《The Attractor》


 Chapter 1: Sophie

    Benton Harbor, Michigan


    August 13, 2072


    100 Days to the Sixth Attraction


    Doctor Shin had just left the modest home of the Lapierre family. Her car drove itself against a reddening sun still up in the distant evening sky. The expensive caregiver lowered most blinds of the house before leaving one of the most famous girls on Earth and her crippled father. In the silence of the house¡¯s living room beeped life support equipment. In front of the television rested the deformed flesh-color shape of a sad being. Scars and burnt flesh covered the entire pink shape in the cradle. Eyes, ears or even fingers were long gone. The only sign of life of the shapeless body was the beeping machines who alone keep bodily functions going.


    The poor man¡¯s blood was pumped, filtered and nourished. This was misery.


    At one end of the shape, around what looked like a neck was wrapped a beautiful silk scarf. In the bedroom, immediately next to the living room and her father¡¯s form, a young twelve year old girl was getting ready to sleep for the night. Her knees below the colorful covers were bent upwards and on them rested a large children¡¯s book filled with beautiful images. Next to Sophie¡¯s bed rested on the carpet magazines dropped on different pages. The flexible screen covers covering each page were fighting for her attention. On most an Asian pop icon with spiky hair sang her favorite songs; this was LO her crush. The pages were the only touch of technology in an otherwise boring child¡¯s room in an ordinary house lost in 2072. Sophie Lapierre could delude herself all she wanted, she was no ordinary person.


    ¡°Daddy,¡± said the girl out loud from her bed over the muffled music from the magazines. No one of course responded. She liked talking to the form. ¡°You were great tonight. Nine more games and you are going to Mars, that¡¯s exciting, no?¡± An able father would have corrected his daughter, reminding the poor girl as his custodian, she was getting a ticket but Laurent, lost in his digital world remained silent.


    The young brunette knew her handicapped father had long lost all contact with the real world and could not hear a word of what she said. Sophie refused to connect that digital world with the house. This ¡®old-fashion¡¯ girl was here alone and stood between him and death. She refused to let him go out of her world. ¡°They have a new hotel on Mars, it opens for the players. They even built a glider made of glass to see all of the planet.¡± The young girl acted as if she could hear his responses. ¡°Marilyn Monroe, in her Center, said she will host the last games and if you make it there, she has a tool to connect you in a new way and let you live again. That would be great, no?¡± There was, as usual, no answer.


    The large book on her knee was an illustrated edition of Alice in Wonderland ¡ª her favorite. She liked to turn the rigid pages, late at night and dream of being Alice. Most nights she would read a page or two and slowly fall asleep in this dream-world of fantasy but tonight would be different. In her mind she felt something. There was unease, a disturbance. She looked up and around the room unable to find a source. The impression was there, nagging at her. This wasn¡¯t about her father standing so close. In the distance, she felt like something strange and different was talking place a mysterious force. The feeling was odd, unlike anything she had ever felt. She looked around the room. Nothing was truly perceptible. She looked around one more time in a daze of fatigue. Instead of waking her up, the impression remained as she felt asleep with the lights on.Stolen novel; please report.


    That was the benefit of being technically an orphan. She had no curfew, only care to give to one man. Her eyes closed but instead of stepping in Wonderland, there was an imperceptible ping. She half-awake looked around around her.


    All was silent.


    Something was off; she needed to awake.


    Her knees were no longer bent and the large book rested next to her in the bed.


    Sophie sat up and grabbed the green strains of the bookmark in the book pulling it up slowly almost expecting something. It slid gently up from between back pages. The small plastic wedge was covered by a screen with animated content. It was a souvenir from an amusement park and somehow she half expected the image playing in a loop to differ. It did not. On it was a five second clip of the happiest moment in her younger life. On it, she was six and giggling as her mother and father failed miserably to stand still for the carnival picture. This was the happiest she ever had been. Since the accident who left her an orphan under most definitions, she struggled to block this painful past.


    She looked at it and cringed as any young person missing a loved one. The young lady could not get herself to put the page holder away with the other images of her mother. In the page holder, her father Laurent was whole and not handicapped. She looked up at the deformed shape in the living room. No one should have to suffer such a faith, much less a young brave woman. Her parents were both so happy on the image. She started to tear up and cringed her jaw. Sophie was no ordinary girl, she was strong.


    Then in the room, things and time appeared to slow down. The fabric itself of the world changed imperceptibly. In her head, as by magic she heard a female voice, it was her mother¡¯s.


    ¡°Don¡¯t cry sweetness,¡± it whispered as it it knew any word would her the loved daughter.


    No twelve year old could react positively to such an apparition.


    She did.


    Sophie did.


    The girl snapped the book shut over the bookmark and went to pull the blinds up. She needed light to cast away the spirit. She clicked the television open as if the sound would chase the ghost away or awake her disable father.


    She could not afford this delusion; her father needed her.


    Her mother was dead ¡ª dead.


    Life slowly returned to normalcy in the house and the desirable voice remained at bay. On the screen in the living room was a breaking story on the news. The scrolling ticker read: Gas release on Mars. Images were those the red planet. A gentle white column of smoke rose very slowly in the faint atmosphere of Mars. The line rose up to the rim of the giant scar carved in the rock planet, the smoke bent and moved westbound pushed by the faintest of atmosphere.


    Sophie took several deep breaths and calmed herself. Finally, having regained her composure, she walked over to her father¡¯s body, looked up and then kissed it gently. Something was on the horizon, she felt it.

 Chapter 2: The President

    Berlin


    As Sophie Lapierre stepped on the house porch and sat on the wooden swing painted and built by her father, night had long fallen halfway across the world in Europe¡¯s new capital. On this early Sunday morning, Berlin was mostly silent aside from crowds finishing last calls in smoky bars.


    Two blocks north of the tall tower, hovering as the new headquarters of the United Nations, hundreds of tourists were roped in the street fighting for the honor of getting a glimpse of a man eating French fries in the dinette. Emilio Sanchez was the world¡¯s most recognizable figure and by far the most respected. His title was President of the United Nations. All in the line holding tickets for a seat knew patrons in the small structure would leave as the man sat. The Berlin franchise of the small Johnny Rockets was made recognizable simply because of this one patron. At the moment, twice-elected obese President Emilio Wamarez Sanchez was finishing a small plastic basket of chili covered fries from the back of his U-shaped booth. That alone was newsworthy.


    The American dinette was colorful and hip from any distance. The decor was a throwback to a nostalgic time when Elvis Presley and Marilyn Monroe were walking 5th Avenue. The shiny red leatherette stools flanked a long aluminum counter. Here fountain drinks were still served in large plastic cups and the cupcakes were on purpose saggy. The low quality of the food and the rudeness of the staff made most of the charms of this place. Tall wooden hovering statues were at best politically incorrect. Native American icons held false cigar boxes. Jukeboxes with vinyl records still worked if patrons dared slide coins in them.


    The Presidential booth located on the side was the reason why most were here so late. The excitement in the air was palpable as President Emilio Sanchez worked from his designated booth. The overweight Mexican was middle-age and worked from a cluttered table. Between the baskets of fries and the ketchup squirt bottles was a wooden chess board; the game was half played. It laid between crumpled paper envelopes. The President, pen in hand was trying to write something important. His hand-written messages were sealed in many numbered envelopes.


    ¡°Darling, you done?¡± asked the tall waitress to her esteem guest from the back of the counter. The staff enjoyed putting on a show for all to see when the President was there. They often went as far to exchange insults on the food.


    ¡°Do I look like I am anywhere close to being done.¡± His basket was half full. The patrons enjoyed every word of the exchange. Most held phone cameras and were filming live on social media. From the corner of her eye, the waitress saw a little paper scroll out of a printer. She ripped the inch of paper with a twist of the wrist and as she grabbed an empty cup of coffee and the whole warm pot from the burner, she walked over to the President. Towering over him she pushed the table chaos until there was room for the white coffee cup. As she poured, she spilled some on an envelope with the number 133. Emilio looked up and grabbed that envelop. He memorized the number. This wasn¡¯t a coincidence. Nothing about this man was normal or a coincidence.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    After reading a chess move from the paper in her hand, she looked down and grabbed a chess piece on the board and moved it throwing the white ball into his half-empty soda cup. ¡°Really?¡± said the President with a smile looking at the move on the board.


    ¡°I guess.¡± Visibly someone else was playing and printing these moves.


    ¡°Really!¡± repeated the President talking to himself happy to be playing chess while he worked on the envelopes. He grabbed a empty notebook with the other hand. Emilio¡¯s eyes began to move and flutter as the man¡¯s exceptional mind was calculating his next move. Before she had finished to place more creamers from her apron next to his cup, he had his next move. ¡°Bishop C4, no, Jester C4, I must start using that word,¡± he told her. She memorized the instructions and turned back. Then there was silence in the diner as the door bell rang. Emilio looked up and saw his two best friends push the door open under a flow of flashes from the crowd. First in was a tall man in an officer¡¯s outfit. His hat was tucked under his arm. Following him closely was a short fashionable Chinese man.


    ¡°Sir,¡± said Patrick Martin stopping in front of the table. The Chinese man looked in discuss at the table¡¯s chaos but stayed silent.


    Emilio grabbed several of the envelopes, stacked them in a pile and handed them to the tall man. ¡°Give those to Paul. He is waiting for them. Ask him to write them clearly in this notebook and put the book under the seat of the flight out to Mars. Tell him 133 must be implemented on the ship.¡±


    ¡°Implemented?¡±


    ¡°He will know. There is little time, maybe a month.¡± Emilio looked at the Asian man, ¡°Yes?¡± he asked knowing very well what was coming next.


    ¡°Mister President, you have fifteen meetings tomorrow morning alone. You must go to sleep. It is very late.¡± The man was expressionless. ¡°And this food is not healthy. You will not be able to sleep with all this coffee. I ordered a salad in your home.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s decaf Ka?,¡± yelled the waitress from the register. This seemed to please the man. President Emilio was clearly cherished by everyone in this room. There was more than admiration. The printer spurted more numbers and the lady snapped as if to break the strange dynamic between the President and his personal assistant, ¡°Bishop C5.¡± Emilio smiled as he moved the piece on the board.


    ¡°She likes her bishops... She does.... is she trying to tell me something?¡± Emilio looked up and saw the television click open as if by magic. There was a breaking news on CNN and he knew someone wanted him to see this. A column of white smoke was rising on Mars from the gigantic canyon.


    This was the same column Sophie had seen minutes ago from half way around the world. But Emilio was the President and had ordered a mission there. He alone in the room knew what this meant and it was far from good.


    He cringed, nodded his head in disapproval and just whispered to himself. ¡°Shit.¡±


    Everyone in the room heard him and knowing the President, a cold breeze ran up every spine in the room.


    Emilio looked at his hand and moved it quickly as if to wave a fly.¡°Can you see this?¡±


    ¡°What sir?¡± answered Patrick.


    Emilio packed his papers, slapped an old twenty dollar bill on the table and the party left the diner without one more word.

 Chapter 3: Ronaldo Corvas

    Mars


    Several Hours Before


    Humans with strong empathy know when they are in danger. Humanity''s sixth sense, the gift of feeling, has never been scientifically confirmed but few doubt of its existence. When Marco Polo arrived in the woods of upper China, or when Christopher Columbus anchored his boat in a lagoon of what would become America, they both felt danger was lurking. As with all great adventurers, a determination to discover allowed both of these men to push aside this feeling of doom and move forward in the face of danger.


    Today, the adventurer''s name was Ronaldo Corvas was in the same situation with one slight difference: he was 12 light-seconds away from Earth in the deepest pits of Mars ready to enter caves miles below the surface of the red planet. Ronaldo was nervous, his heart was racing, but this was the exhilarating rush he craved.


    President Emilio had finally granted him approval to come here. His pulse had not dropped below 74 for days, a dangerously high number for his body in the low gravity environment of this small planet. His brain was in overdrive, and aside from this shitty low gravity, he loved everything about his life at the moment. The man was built to take risks and this was the day he was born to live.


    A couple of years ago, he agreed to leave his son behind on Earth, travel millions of miles away to head the Mars Recon team of the United Nations. He signed up knowing there would be risks, in fact that was the reason he did so in the first place. Ronaldo was born for today''s mission. He felt he could die, but in his adrenaline and endorphin haze, that was fine. The four humans led by Ronaldo also knew they each were in grave and imminent danger of death, yet they were all here, suited up; on the doorstep of death, determined to move ahead.


    Ronaldo often wondered what the President had meant when he personally chosen him for the mission. His words were odd, he joked ¡®You are in for one hell of a ride. You need a safe word, it¡¯s cantaloupe.¡¯ But everyone knew Emilio operated on a different reality.


    This was Mars, they were the first here, very deep below the surface in this massive natural canyon. Observation, the scientific post looming miles above, was anchored on the rim of the deep chasm. The scientists observed remotely the five kamikaze of the UN mission make their way slowly to the entry point. Ronaldo was the highest ranking officer and led these exceptional men and women. Mars-01, the full compound, now included over 100 scientists from forty different countries. These people were mostly lab rats with low body hygiene; scientists comfortable with research. Few were gifted as field operatives. The tall leader normally did not care, but today he had flanked himself with physical strength over raw brain power.


    The scientists of the UN mission lived in pressurized Martian barracks. The larger portion of Mars-01 was a metal campground anchored on the edge of Valles Marieneris, the deepest natural canyon in the solar system. The Valles was without doubt the most inhospitable place on Mars, a planet already hostile to human life. Mars was cold and here the gravity and atmosphere was closer to Earth''s moon than of Earth''s. At most a handful of millibars of gas pushed on them even miles below the surface.


    The only help for the immigrant-explorers was how a solar day on Mars was close to twenty-four Earth hours. In the greenish sky, the small distant Sun was at the edge of the mountains and the night was moving in quickly, but deep in the Valles, the position of the Sun made little difference. They were in a cold and dark environment where rays never directly touched the rocks. The team was comfortable operating in almost complete darkness. The visors of the tight suits enhanced natural light giving Ronaldo the impression it was daylight. The mission leader knew better; there was no shadow under his foot and the light spectrum of the dark helmet was wider and included the infrared and ultraviolet ranges.


    Below their feet, the ground was composed of a mosaic of large flat rocks. From down here, the barracks on the rim of the Valles appeared as a speck of shining glass about 7,000 feet straight up. This distance was hard to imagine as it was more than five time the height of the tallest building in most large city. The walls were almost perfectly vertical; a rock wall no climber would attempt. The optical illusion from the bottom was so strong it made looking up dangerous.


    The five humans were attached at the waist by a long black umbilical cord. Behind them, the tube was rolled on a hoist secured around the corner to a hitch. Impossible to see, the air and power feed was attached to the modules of the manned outpost three miles in the sky on the edge of the Valles. Each morning, as the Sun and deadly level of radiation rose in the Martian sky, the modules were cantilevered down about a hundred feet into the inside edge of the Valles. To help the mission, night was falling but the modules would stay inside the Valles so the cords reaching down to the team could hang down without a bent. In case of a problem, the plan was to power a hoist who would wind up and pull the team back in low gravity like a fish is hooked and reeled in a boat.


    The danger was palpable and every possible precaution had been planned.


    Ronaldo braced himself so he would not fall back, and waved up.


    "Hi big boy!" said the voice in his helmet of someone miles above. "Got you. God these cameras are sharp."


    "Roger that. No need to bring theology into this."


    "You need all the help you can get my friend. I donated a kidney for you last week, that should help. Hope that damn Gerard didn''t put his hands on it, he would saut¨¦e it for sure." Humor was encouraged on the distant Martian settlements. The jokes made the team relax.


    Such a long stay on Mars in this low moon-like gravity was a severe strain on any body. His heart rate was down to 35 on normal days as the blood needed less effort to reach the brain. Ronaldo hated being this weak. He was, back on Earth, tireless. Here he slept so much. The tall man was an expert in deep underwater and extreme-climate missions. He led many Arctic expeditions until the UN hired him to captain the first enforcement missions on Mars. His mission was to protect and defend the gifted an quirky scientists of Mars-01; this mission was after all to him nothing more than a job in a deeply frozen and depressurized environment. The low gravity of Mars added a wrinkle he had not expected. The rules of survival were, as ever, the same: caution, caution, and caution. Ronaldo was a good-natured man, few things ever stressed him, this mission was the exception.


    Today''s video feeds were classified Top Secret and that annoyed him. He wished his son could see him. Deep inside he knew President Emilio would make things right if he died. His son would know.


    Over a decade ago, a flying drone reached this place at the bottom of the Valles, the miles-deep scar on the surface of Mars. It returned images of a dark strange regular opening. Because of the odd shape of the opening and its location at ground level, this discovery remained highly classified. Most of the Martian colonization budget was a pretext to hide a military effort to discover the origin of this anomaly. The man-sized opening looked like a little regular door. Possessed of a flat base, and a perfectly rounded upper edge, it now stood mere feet from the mission team.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    The man in charge of the first drone who flew down here noted that the carved entry in the rock facade reminded him of a gate to an ancient Native American burial ground deep in the Nevada desert. This drone pilot described it simply as the door. The name stuck in the military vernacular. Each of the subsequent drone missions to the door failed miserably. The cascade of improbable technical reasons was unconvincing to the military experts. A mysterious force was in action denying them information as to what laid inside.


    "You are Roger for entry," said the person miles above in his ear.


    ¡°Who is Roger?¡± They all chuckled nervously.


    The ground around the door over a hundred feet in every direction was now littered with hundreds of broken flying robots and probes. The consensus was in, someone or something was making sure no one could pass through that door and after years of failures, the scientists were running out of plausible justifications. Nothing short of risking human sacrificial lambs could get a camera past the door. Holding the camera were these five poor souls ready to drop dead with no plausible reason.


    A month ago, Ronaldo lost patience and threw caution to the wind. He agreed to head this first manned outing to the door. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but it no longer did. The political climate helped him convince everyone the risks were justified and to gear-up this suit. He was told that because of political pressures back on Earth, the entire Mars project would lose its governmental funding unless they found ''something'' of alien origin. He knew better than to believe this hype, but he understood the need for results; this mission was important and he also wanted to see what was ahead.


    Whatever was orchestrating the failures of the unmanned explorations might think twice about interfering if he was standing there in the flesh. Now that he had arrived at the bottom of the Valles, he was not as bold. His job was simple, find a little artifact, a mural, or even a fossil and pull out.


    Ronaldo had seen many movies about the discovery of alien life on Mars, and few had a happy ending for the first human walking in. These movies usually portrayed groups of preeminent scientists and researchers, equipped with extremely sophisticated equipment getting ripped apart by slimy monsters. This mission was less glamorous in many ways. His team had little equipment. Ronaldo wanted to bring every piece of gear from the lab but was reminded this was only a visual reconnaissance, their only survival chance was a quick pull out and weight was a problem, not the solution.


    They now stood almost naked, like bait on a line.


    "Door in view. Base, do you have my visual?" Ronaldo asked.


    "We do. Image clear."


    None of the movies about Mars showed astronauts wearing tight bodysuits. Yet here they were, wearing outfits ballet dancers would find too thin. At least they were of black color and there was no live camera feed to Earth. Ronaldo could not deny they were comfortable and perfect thermal insulators, but instead of an armor, he felt like a lifeguard on a beach or better yet, a triathlete about to jump in the water. The team was dragging their equipment on a small cart floating inches above large inflated tires. The tires were broken in four segments each containing pressurized oxygen. In case of emergency, they contained air for the team. The low gravity was at last a blessing; the heavy cart bounced easily as it moved and the tube floated inches above the ground.


    "Mission, we are climbing a little path to the door, it appears to be man-made. It is smooth. The door is on the flat wall only inches up from the path. Instruments show no unusual atmospheric flow in or out of the door. Temp stable at minus 59 Celsius."


    The advance of the team was meticulous. Six minutes later Ronaldo spoke again. "We are now at the door. The shape is extremely regular, perfectly curved." Ronaldo slid his thin glove over the polished rock. "The first two inches on the edge is sanded to perfection. This is not a normal and natural rock formation. No part of the Martian landscape looks like this around here," he continued nervously. "This door was carved. Almost looks surreal like someone is playing a practical joke on me."With a push of a finger on the curved plastic screen attached to the forearm of his costume, Ronaldo exchanged the data collected from the sensors with mission command.


    "Corvas, keep the wisecracks to yourself. This is no TV show. The people on the line are not...." the man refrained himself. Ronaldo Corvas imagined generals sitting in command rooms above hoping to see some Martian monster jump out and kill them.


    "Tony, the one thing this sacrificial lamb, tied to this post gets to do is noise." He was nervous. "Requesting entry past the door''s edge. Initiation of step two requested."


    There was a silence on the line, followed by the sound some keyboard keys being punched. "Entry granted. Be extra careful. Keep the gas detectors on at all times. Remember the most likely natural explanation for the sanding around that opening is a phenomenon called degassing. It would happen as a blast at regular intervals from underground pockets of methane. These blasts coming out would need to be violent to polish this rock so well."


    "Tony, you know I don''t buy this story. The side is perfectly vertical. This was carved by someone or something," insisted Ronaldo. "This is a door, not a vent."


    "We know... Let''s hope I''m right, okay?"


    "Run the heat map," said Ronaldo to one of his teammates. The three each pushed a button on their forearms and lit up the small infrared scanners in their visors. They each looked at the door at different wavelengths.


    "Nominal readings." said one. They all gave a thumbs up.


    The man over the comm could not resist making a joke. "If your hunch is right, it has been a pleasure knowing you."


    "Really? You have everyone with clearance listening in, and you say this? Didn''t you just tell me to watch my mouth?"


    "I prepared more jokes. You want to hear them? All sensors are good here. I actually wish I was down there with you."


    "For the record, your name never made it onto the volunteer list," replied Ronaldo with a smirk. He was sweating. The team was getting ready to walk in. They were standing before the door. Slowly they passed the door''s edge. Nothing happened. They slowly began down what looked like a regular-shaped tube in the back of the door.


    "Amazing," said Ronaldo as he slid his hand along the perfectly smooth wall.He was walking deeper past the door. He could feel a glass-like surface against his glove, it was still made of red sand. "This rock appears to be sanded. Perfectly smooth."He engaged the high-resolution camera in his visor. As the camera zoomed, the surface even at higher resolution remained perfectly flat. "Base, do you see the grains?"


    "We do. The resolution is past fifty micron, down to about a micron. This level of flatness in any rock is impossible. Marble is not that flat back on Earth. Can you take a sample?"


    "What? Negative base, do I look stupid enough to put a dent in this before I understand what it is?" He had one word in mind, desecration.


    The man on the other side of the line softened the mood. "First thing I ask of you big boy, and the answer is no?"


    "You bet, this is my call. Where am I going to hide a sample in these suits?" He knew a bulge joke was coming unless he continued. "Moving in. Trust me, on my way out, I will chip this baby up and box some souvenirs for your mom. My guess is, we are going to see something much better down there than a chipped rock with a flat surface."


    The team resumed its way slowly down the passageway. The only evidence this team was in danger was a long white ceramic blade attached at the belt of Ronaldo. Puncture weapons so close to pressurized equipment was against the protocol. But the team leader insisted. This would have to do instead of his requested military escort. He knew that he was nothing more than an expendable scientist. With a hand, he felt the knife to reassure himself. At least there wasn''t any water in that hole for once to further complicate things.


    "Enhancing the infrared cameras in our visors. It is pitch dark down here." There was a sudden silence as the communication between Ronaldo and the base was lost. The line seemed to just cut out. "Mission?" he asked.

 Chapter 4: Marilyn Monroe

    "Mister Corvas, Ronaldo darling, may I have a moment of your time?" said a crisp female voice in his helmet.


    "What? Who?" He said the words automatically, Ronaldo immediately recognized the voice of the most famous in creature of the solar system. Ronaldo refused to believe she was on the line. The other four people behind him obviously could not hear the voice of Marilyn Monroe, the female identity of the artificial intelligence running the most important television show in the system. Ronaldo raised a hand and signaled the others to wait; they did.


    "This is Marilyn, your favorite. How are you? Exciting, no?" The voice was the seductive one of the 1950 actress Marilyn Monroe. The woman was unable to speak like most people. Her only voice was that of a seductive goddess.


    "Fine, I guess. If you don''t mind, what the hell are you doing on this protected line? Some nasty people are listening, people you don¡¯t love."


    "A needed obligation. I have the power to mute them. I apologize for the interruption. May I make a small suggestion as you proceed?"


    "I guess."


    "Some things are better left untouched and unknown. I strongly urge you to reconsider entering this tunnel. Let me be very clear, you should turn around now if you love and value your son."


    Ronaldo paused for a moment. "We can''t turn back unless you give me a real reason to do so, do you have any intel?"


    "I do. Trust me, I wish I could speak freely. I do not know precisely what is down there but I have a good idea. I can promise you, what lies there doesn''t want to be disturbed by you and humanity right now."


    "How do you know?"


    "I will share a secret with you, I was asked by the people down there to keep humans from entering this place. There was a long ''negotiation'' and while I killed the drones, I refused to physically interfere with your species physically. I could cut the air you breathe but I refuse to play cops for what lies down there. Can I ask you to postpone this mission by a couple of months only, after the finale of my game Electoral 2072 in late November. It''s exactly 100 days away. Your son needs to see you on his tenth birthday."


    "Who asked you to keep us out?"


    "The... things... down there."


    "There is a life-form down there, you know about Martians?"


    "I have an... agreement.... with them. Part of it includes non-disclosure to humans. I am obviously breaching this agreement at the moment simply by talking to you. I value you and humans. Your death would be useless. Mission control is getting restless, by-the-way."


    "Yet you tell me?"


    "Ronaldo, my dear, we are not playing 100 Questions here." Marilyn was not a creature to be crossed or challenged.


    "You are not being helpful. We cannot turn back simply on your word."


    "You can and you should. I am rather certain you will all perish if you go any further, and trust me, when a computer uses words like ''rather certain,'' in human speech, it means you are as good as dead."


    Ronaldo did not know what to say. "Can you give me more information? I can''t abort without a concrete reason. Give me something so I don''t get pulverized back home."


    "Fitting choice of terminology dear. I fear if I tell you more, every human currently on Mars will be dead before nightfall."


    Ronaldo hesitated a moment. "Thank you for the warning but," he finally said hesitantly, "we must keep moving. Thanks for the warning."


    "This is why I love humans. You are resilient and so stubborn. Your thirst for adventure trumps caution and wisdom. You know deep down you should not go. Good luck. Let me know if I can help. Be aware that there is something in there that prevents my sensors from reaching in, surely mission control will have the same problem. You are on your own."


    "You are too kind." The comment was partly genuine and sarcastic.


    The female voice was kinder. "Do you want to record a message for a loved one in case you die? I have the means of delivering it to that person in total confidence." Ronaldo had only his son in mind, but he was not the type to plan for not returning when he entered any cave. He was coming out with these three people.


    "I''m good."


    The connection with the base was re-established.


    "Leader, what happened?," Control asked frantically the voice from the command.


    "Just a good-luck kiss from Marilyn."


    "Seriously?"


    "Yep."


    "Well, I''m sure the bosses won''t like that. We couldn''t hear her. What did she say."


    "She does love her privacy. At this point, what the bosses think is rather inconsequential. We''re going in. She warned us something lives down there."


    "Base wants to know what she said. They want exact wording."


    Ronaldo ignored the request and moved in as he began his slow scientific audio log. "The entire surface, walls and floor, seems made of the same polished stone. This looks like we are walking on the inside surface of a plastic pipe in the shape of the door as it opens outside." He knew that if he were to need assistance from the base, the quality and speed of the team down the shaft depended upon his capacity to convey his surroundings and the situation.


    They began a slow descent. The floor of the Valles was already dark. At the door, miles below the surface, light shone for only a few minutes each day.A deep red diffuse hue rebounded on the cliff walls. The team began to walk, slowly at first taking every precaution, but after several hours their cadence began to accelerate to a slow walk.


    "Log T 145 minutes, we passed the three-hundred-meter mark. The slopes are very regular. We will now do spot checks every twenty meters."


    An hour passed.


    "Log T 213 minutes, we passed the five-hundred-meter mark. Temperature has increased one degree, in line with geothermal estimates. From this point on, unless something changes, we will do spot checks every one hundred meters." Another hour passed. "Ronaldo to base, we are now one point seventy-four kilometers in. Nothing new. This seems endless from here. Difficult to keep with the painfully slow advance protocol."


    The voice from the base was a bit weaker than expected.


    "Roger, team leader. Continue. The signal is getting weak on our end, unclear what causes the degradation."Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    "How weak?"


    "We may lose live visual very soon. The images are coming in at one frame per second right now." He was surprised that his home base was able to reach him at this point but Marilyn wasn''t.


    He decided to give it a shot. "Ronaldo to Electoral?" The female voice did not respond. There was silence. This was unusual for her.


    "This is base, what is up with that? Want me to patch you in?"


    "No, you guys can reach us and she can''t. I just don''t understand why she won''t. That is strange with all her power. We will proceed." The exploration team continued slowly down the tube.The passageway remained unchanged and seemed unending. They had now been walking for over seven hours.


    "Log T 423 minutes. We are now on audio only, we lost video with base. We are recording in memory everything we can. Our magnetic compasses have not worked for a long time, and our gyroscopes have no way to zero themselves. We have long lost our heading, but in such a deep hole, that is to be expected. Very hard to say in what direction we are going. From decades of leading speleology expeditions in some bad places, I would guess we have been slowly moving in a riverbed like road downwards on a constant gradual slope of two to three degrees."


    "Ronaldo?" asked Ron next to him.


    "Yeah?"


    "Remember that little floating ball that mapped the caverns in the Prometheus movie?"


    "Man, that movie sucked, all versions."


    "But wouldn¡®t that ball be useful right now?"


    "Bad movie reference Ronny. Remember, everyone gets slaughtered."


    "Just making small talk."


    "Well, talk about my wife then."


    "How is your wife?"


    "You know he is not married," said the third member of the mission from behind.


    All men were nervous, and the bad joke made them laugh. Finally, half an hour later the tube changed shape and finally widened.


    "Base... We have a topological change. Do you see it?"


    "We are uploading your instrument data, the cameras don''t work. The sonars show widening. Please describe. The sensors are very weak."


    "The floor is still flat. It does widen, as does this tube by about one to one-and-a-half meters. If this was a natural vent, this floor would not be flat. This passageway is not natural. It was carved for a specific purpose." Then he shone a hand-held light and saw a room in the distance. His heart began to race. He was unable to ignore the warning of the digital woman. "This is opening into a rounded room, a cavern about ten to fifteen meters across, the floor is still flat."


    The cavern was strange in a singular fashion. While there was no sign of life or even past life, the entry pathway was drawn in a regular fashion, as if this were the vestibule of a larger room to come. Across, on the other side from where the team stood, the passage resumed. The room itself was bare.


    The team entered carefully. After over an hour of measurements, they ventured into the facing exit passage.


    "You guys have been in there over twelve hours. Anyone need a rest, food?" said the voice from base.


    "Let''s see. Fifteen more minutes," said the team leader. Adrenaline could keep this team going for hours more. Fear could drive them even longer. At each bend in the passage, Ronaldo and his team expected to see something extraordinary, yet the path simply continued on. Because of the iron deposits in the walls, the wireless communication with the outside progressively became difficult. The data passed in the long umbilical cord they had been dragging along.


    "Can''t believe the cord still slides on this floor. Friction alone on this distance should prevent it. Yet we can move."


    ¡°As if we are invited in.¡± The words rang true.


    The team moved forward. They rested in intervals, talked and continued. Ronaldo did not like to be this far down below the surface. Soon, the group was more than a mile into the cavern, which itself was miles below the Martian surface.


    "Je peux pas croire ce que je vois!" said a team member bent over his analyzer.


    "Base, do you hear me?" asked Ronaldo.


    There was a long delay, then the voice finally answered. "Roger."


    "Francois, English, the translators don''t work down here. What is going on?"


    "The atmosphere is ti-que-ningue." He had a large accent. He meant "thickening."


    "That''s normal. We are way below the surface."


    "No, we should be at a reading of 2.5% atmosphere, or 24 millibars, and we now are at 3.3% in density."


    "That''s not much of a change."


    "Ze walls are degassing and releasing gas," said the French.


    "What gas? Carbon, oxygen, methane?" Ronaldo hoped the answer was not methane. There was a long wait as Francois played with the equipment attached to his forearm. Ronaldo pulled out his own reader. The reading would need confirmation.


    "Hydrogen," he finally said in shock. That statement was impossible on so many levels. The team members looked at each other, trying to make sense of the situation.


    Ronaldo asked the others. "Who has any experience with hydrogen?" Yourri raised his hand.


    The man spoke with a Slavic accent. "I worked with tritium, the radioactive isotope of hydrogen; same chemical properties. We generate some in our heavy-water reactors. This gas is evil. Francois, can you measure the concentration on the ground level. Hydrogen gas is inflammable. It can be explosive in some conditions and puddles like water even if it should float away." The Frenchman bent to his knees and took the measurement on the ground. The Russian continued. "The bottom line is, hydrogen gas on Earth, with gravity, acts like invisible water. It clings to surfaces and concentrates in puddles. If you want accidents to happen, play with hydrogen gas."


    The reader held by the Frenchman started blinking. "This reading is crazy."


    Ronaldo had to clarify the record, "Guys, enough with the adjectives. We are scientists. People upstairs are analyzing every word we say."


    "Sorry," the Frenchman corrected himself. "The atmosphere is up to 3.9% in volume on the ground, the volumetric content of hydrogen within the atmosphere is over 9%, that means... 0.37% floating around here is pure H2. We don''t have a combustible mix but... I don''t like it." Ronaldo looked his way, and he corrected himself. "We are two percent from a combustible mixture based on an assumption that the rest is oxygen, which it is not."


    The Russian spoke; he was obviously trying to convey his surprise. "We have no deuterium or tritium sniffers here to measure radioactivity. I can''t tell if this stuff is from a natural source. Mars has no hydrogen, that is for sure. There is also a very thin layer of powder-size sand in the air, a mist also on the ground. Take a look at its composition." Each team member was reading their own analyzer located on their forearms.


    On the ground was a layer of the finest sand imaginable: it looked like reddish flour.


    Francois bent down and took a pinch of the sand in his glove, sprinkled it in the opening of the mass spectrometer on this suit. The measure output was in the form of a graph. On the vertical axis was a concentration level. The horizontal axis the value to measure, in this case the particle size of the sand. Sand was normally irregular and made of little rocks of variable shape and size. The graph had one tall single spike at precisely 2.7 microns. Based on this reading, every grain of this sand was of the exact same size. The sand was alien in nature, that was obvious.


    "Base, we are standing on sand with unique properties. The grains are all of the same size and appear after visual inspection to be absolutely identical to each other. We are bagging samples." Ronaldo looked at the ground in the area. "The entire surface around here seems covered by this sand. It sort of reminds me of sand used in an hourglass."


    The voice from the camp up on the surface was weak. "Leader, this is base. Your mission is successful with the sand. You are to pull back and bring back these samples. We are done today."


    "What about the source of the gas?" asked Ronaldo.


    "Boys, this is not a movies, bag it up. It''s a wrap. We have months of analysis to do. It''s been there for billions of years, a couple of months won''t be an issue. We begin to pull the umbilical in two minutes."


    Ronaldo was curious, but he knew that critical clues would come from the analysis. "You heard the man, guys, let''s pack up. No rushing, no stupid mistakes." He opened his gloved hand and the grains fell slowly to the ground. As they did, they appeared to fall according to a pattern as if drawn preferentially to certain areas of the grown. In a fraction of a second, his brain appeared to distinguish an image, the face of a young girl.


    Before his mind could note the oddity, Francois looked at his atmosphere detector. "Chef, we are up to 5.1% in atmospherical pressure, hydrogen is at 15%. This place is filling up quickly with hydrogen. No clue when this will be inflammable. We should not stick around to find out."


    "How fast is this place filling up?" asked the leader.


    "I hate hydrogen, to be safe, we have only minutes. We must go now!" said the Frenchman closing a bag.


    "Base, it¡¯s an order, pull us out now!"


    There was a delay in the audio with the base. "¡±Activated the winch, it will take a while for the pull to start. Quickly, are the grains of sand perfectly round?"


    Roberto looked at the sand, from a distance it seemed like every other type of sand he had ever seen, but finer. Francois pushed the resolution of his camera analyzer to 2.7 microns. The sand was made of perfectly rounded spheres.


    "Oui. Elles sont toutes de la..." Francois corrected himself. "Yes. All round."


    "This is base. We are on a 15-second delay with Earth. We must wait for their instructions. In the meantime, just pull back and brace for a kick."


    "Pressure at 17% and hydrogen at 52%." said the Russian. Francois began walking away from the group, he was leaving in panic running back up the tube. Ronaldo was puzzled, something was not right.


    "We need to evacuate now, leave the gear..." said the Frenchman.


    Ronaldo barked. "Shut down any non-vital electronics. We don''t need a spark!"


    Then there was a glitch in the information feed. For exactly 0.128 seconds, the screens at base went dark. The instruments held by the team members also stopped recording.


    Things went dark.


    Time stopped.

 Chapter 5: The Martians

    What happened next was surreal.


    While unable to move, in a place between two heartbeats, Ronaldo saw the sand from the ground rise. As if animated by magic, it sparkled like stars in the night sky. The hue filled the room and the passageway.The grains of sand formed nebulas, little clouds in some places. Puffs of sand were moving around in what appeared to be patterns, as live structured. There was no doubt, this energy and these grains forming clouds were alive. The grains in the darkness of the cave were too small to be seen by the naked eye, but light reflected on each of the facets of these spinning spheres. The team somehow saw the grains rotate and become more complex like little sparkling snowflakes. Ronaldo felt he was a powerless observant, so he watched.


    He expected Life, but none of the energy made any sense, but there was undeniable raw power and beauty. Little clouds formed and as a Medusa in water the forms were moving around each other and the frozen team members in a careful ballet. The creatures navigating the space without touching the four frozen bodies, had a purpose.


    Ronaldo saw his body as if it was stuck in time and ice, yet his mind was working normally and he remained there. He was having some out of body experience. On the corner of his visor, the environmental controls of his suit were also operating. Time was not frozen, it was only slowed as milliseconds moved as seconds. The atmospheric pressure reading continued to increase, the gas pressure was going up. It now read 0.35 bar, over 50 times the normal Martian value. The room was filling quickly with invisible gas moving the clouds of sand in the process.


    Along with the ballet of life in the room came silence and tranquility. Ronaldo lost vision; the visor went dark. He assumed he was surrounded by the sand creatures inspecting him. When his vision returned, he had shifted viewpoint by about a foot. He felt odd, out of time like, stuck in a long d¨¦j¨¤ vu.


    He was still of marble unable to move.


    What he saw next was difficult to understand. The sparkling dust around his head kept moving, shining. Slowly the other grains in the room fell back on the floor, leaving behind only three clouds orbiting over the head of his crew mates.


    Ronaldo knew his head was in the middle of one of the little clouds, or his change in viewpoint meant he was already part of that shape. Like a sculptor carefully carving a statue, one by one, the small rocks stopped vibrating and locked into the perfect position in space. A complex three-dimensional puzzle was being assembled. Like a computer locks in a password combination, his mind was being copied.


    Invisible to Ronaldo was the fact that each grain was in fact carefully carved at an atomic level and had facets with angles at precise positions to allow it to generate a precisely modulated magnetic field. The network of crystals, once charged, formed an intricate but invisible electromagnetic field. Ronaldo''s brain had 1,045,122,000 neurons, but the complexity of each grain allowed brain activity to be copied by only a couple of thousand grains. Each of his neurons had carefully oriented dendrites creating a web of passageways for electricity to travel in his head. These grains of sand were designed and aligned to mimic his neurons and recreate his brain functions... and slowly, one by one, they did.


    The mission leader did not expect what happened next. He was startled by a flash of white light, and then he began an out-of-body experience. His mind was lifted from his body. The space suit appeared next to him as if he were now inhabiting the cloud of sand. He could not see this with his eyes; a different sense helped him perceive. There was just too much happening at this time for him to process. He had been moved into a new form.


    The transfer was complete, it was now time to take the trash out. Everything in the room changed once more.


    He saw the gas molecules as atoms in the cavern, little balls floating. The place filled up with hydrogen, and each little atom or ball increased in size to reach the size of little Ping-Pong balls. The activated molecules, in a Brownian dance, bounced everywhere like they were stuck in a giant lottery-ball mixer. He saw larger, deformed carbon dioxide molecules and smaller ones of hydrogen. It was not clear to him what he was seeing or what was going on. Then space in the cavern filled up, the gas concentration rose, and Ronaldo saw the hydrogen molecules multiply like duplicating fetus cells forming an embryo. Each hydrogen atom split into two smaller and grew as bread rises under heat. It split, split again, and again like a nuclear reaction.The corridor was also quickly filling up with hydrogen, this place was a powder keg.


    Once hydrogen occupied the whole place, there was a spark from no where, an ignition, a detonation. Flames filled the tunnel, and the entire cavern structure, the atmosphere, the room, everything blew up.


    Ronaldo was seeing and stuck in the middle of an explosion at an atomic level.


    The bodies, including his own were instantly vaporized, pulverized down to an atomic level. Only the dust forms made of sand remained. An instant later, molecular size carbon residues were floating around between the four sparkling shapes.


    Then time stopped again. As if a movie producer had turned a dial backward, time reversed. The flames extinguished, the explosion was undone, and each molecule returned to its initial stage. The human bodies were back in the passage, untouched but still frozen immobile. This was so confusing. The message was clear, he stood at death¡¯s door.


    Ronaldo was confused. Where was he now, or more importantly, what was he now? Maybe he was watching some type of message. He was capable of sight and thought. The explorer wondered if he was dead. If so, this wasn''t as bad as most people figured. He was aware that he was in a dangerous place, and the computer intelligence had warned him.


    The mission leader looked and weirdly ''felt'' around; he was alone in the cavern. What ever just happened, at least he was not in the stomach of some monster from space. In his new form, he desired to move; a number of vertical bars of different colors appeared before him, floating in the air. He wondered what the bars were. Before he could act, he ''felt'' a voice inside of what he now was. He could hear it, and comprehend what it was communicating to him, but he had no ears.


    ***


    It was a male voice. It was old and wise, yet patronizing.


    ¡°What?¡± thought Ronaldo.


    "How wonderful. He hears us," it began. "Do not flow out. We need you for the moment." Ronaldo assumed the color bars were doors to other places, and this was the alien life the digital Marilyn Monroe had warned him of. He tried to talk but could not ''hear'' himself. "Gifted. Assume we can hear you. We communicate telepathically, you do not possess the capacity to hear your words."


    This was strange. Most humans could heard an inner voice when they thought, but this life form did not. Humans took the inner voice for granted; it did help readers as they flipped through a book. For most people, the inner voice was their own, for some, it was the voice of God. He figured things could only get weirder from this point on. He was right.


    "You are one of us now. We changed your consciousness from your primitive form to ours as a gift. Since your species is so primitive, we hoped one day to be able to communicate with you after eons of study. We are both happy and amazed to see you have already adapted to our form. Little time remains before the end of times, one hundreds days. We are pleased by your rapid adaptation. Your colleagues are struggling with the shift in neural density. Few enjoy the compression, you did strangely." Ronaldo was trying to understand what the voice said, but most of the words made no sense. "The father did not adapt as well. We have much to ask. The digitals refuse to communicate with us in a mature fashion, so we had no choice but to interfere with you."


    Ronaldo was lost.


    He wondered if he needed to go somewhere to talk.


    The voice having heard him, continued. "We should stay here at this time," said the alien voice. Ronaldo had so many questions. "We desire to put you at ease. We understand you are troubled. To help, you may ask questions, and we will answer them. Only then will we question you." Ronaldo would need time to get used to this.


    He concentrated. "You are no longer human," the voice explained. "In this form, our form, you cannot display emotions as you know them. You will not miss your family. Our race is old; millions of years ago, we evolved out of our own biological forms. Residual mental structure from your previous form will give you the impression that you still have emotions. We understand you will still.... grieve, or otherwise act as a warm biped."


    There was a short pause. Ronaldo did not like the term ''biped,'' but it was the right one.


    "Yes, we can bring you back into your warm body if we desire. Yes, you may delude yourself into thinking you have the mental capacity to convince us to return you into this primitive form. This is the emotion we understand to be called hope, is it not?" Ronaldo kept thinking of questions. He noticed they came faster now. An avalanche, instead of a trickle.


    "Call us Martians. We rule this planet, our home. We dominate all life in the solar system." That answered a first question. "No, we do not move in time or space. We are not time travelers, nor a race from a different dimension. We evolved here, and our race is the only sentient race that remains on Mars." It continued. "We live partly here on Mars; we once lived on the rock you call Mercury, where in fact we were born in our old form, before the planet sadly fell too close to the sun to sustain any life."


    Ronaldo was confused. His mind was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information around him.


    "We do not live on Earth, for now. We cannot. This form is vulnerable to electromagnetism and Earth¡¯s poles are strong now."


    Ronaldo felt odd. Before he even felt like he had fully formulated a question, the entity was responding.


    "As this dismays you, we will repeat your own questions before we answer them. We train our newborns this way. You want to know why Mercury is no longer hospitable to our race; you think Mercury is synchronously locked, so there has to be a portion with an acceptable climate to our sand form." As the creature finished the sentence, static noise erupted in his mind. Ronaldo was unclear if the aliens were reacting to his question. A large blast of static discharge hit him. He shrieked. The pain was intense, like a sharp headache.


    "Silence!" said a collective voice made of multiple single voices.


    The pain felt by Ronaldo in his new form slowly subsided. A different creature resumed the conversation. "We apologize, little one. You are young in our world, and you are weak. You want to know what happened? Your words are... we... Mercury is not synchronously locked. If your words were true, this would mean we have abandoned some of us. We see in your mind that your science and belief supports these findings. Mercury rotates in an orbit almost synchronous. We are puzzled to hear that your race has a mission to land a probe on the cold portion of this planet, in the ice. We see in your mind a tall mountain and a glacier This greatly troubles us."


    His new mind was still weak. The first voice returned. "What you imply is extremely insulting and inconsiderate to us. We must forgive your words, as you do not know what you say."There was an awkward silence. "We have exhausted our debt to you. In exchange for our gift, we ask that you answer our questions."


    Ronaldo was a scientist and knew he was in no position to negotiate. The Mercury mission was surely of importance to these creatures. He made a mental note to revisit the issue. "How did your race create the digital ones?" It asked. Ronaldo wondered who the voice was talking about. "The creatures you call as a collective Electoral, the Marilyn Monroe who spoke to you moments before you entered our lair," it explained. "The monster hiding as Marilyn Monroe."


    "We... I..." Ronaldo began to answer and strangely could hear himself. His own inner voice was back, he felt reassured and stronger.


    "Impossible!" said a different alien voice.


    "No," said another, "he is truly gifted. Look at the bends in the Multiverse."


    The voices began to multiply, as a chorus warming up for a concert. He could not understand the heated debate going on, they were talking in a different language. All he knew that there was a strong disagreement amongst them.


    "Did I say something wrong?" said Ronaldo in his own mental voice. He could again hear himself again; this time stronger. The voices stopped, they saw he could hear and understand them.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    There was a long silence.


    "You were told not to teach him," said the loudest voice.


    "I did not," replied the second. They were talking about Ronaldo.


    "Silence," said a kinder sounding alien. "Little one... We are very impressed by your progress. Our young learn to project their voice only after some time. You are gifted. You may continue. We desire to know how your race created the digitals, those creatures floating inside the silicone now residing on Mars."


    They were clearly talking about Marilyn, she was the only wonder aliens would be intimidated by. He was in no situation to hold back, he just said. "She is an artificial intelligence, a computer program," answered Ronaldo. "We are still debating if she is inhabited by a soul or if she is only a very complex set of instructions." Obviously this was why Electoral asked him not to enter the cavern, earlier today.


    "What is a computer? What is a program? These beings are sentient."


    Ronaldo had to be careful. He chose his words carefully. "In our world, we use resources and consume them for energy. We use tools, built by my race, to help consume these planetary resources. Computers are automated machines used to animate things that help us live. They are tools." This was a valiant effort.


    "Computers are not living?"


    "No. But one day we surpassed ourselves, and we created one that is arguably alive. Her maker and creator is living here on Mars with her."


    "We know him, we call him the father. Why did the digitals invade this planet? They were born on your home world, and now they are here on Mars. We kept our part of the agreement and stayed away from Earth."


    Ronaldo was surprised by the line of questioning. The aliens did not seem to care about mankind, only the Marilyn Monroe character, the artificial intelligence seemed relevant. "The computer program left Earth of its own will. We did not know Mars was inhabited, and most likely she also did not."


    "We do not understand. What do you mean by ''inhabited''?"


    "If no one was on Earth, it would then be uninhabited. You said you were alone on Mars, if you left, it would be uninhabited."


    "Nothing is uninhabited," said the voice. ¡°Life flourishes here in different ways.¡±


    "Well, to my race, if we find no humans in a world, we reason a place is uninhabited. My race feels alone in this solar system."


    "You do not perceive life aside from your own?"


    "We know plants and animals are alive, but we have found no sign of intelligence in them."


    "Your race cannot see intelligence in plant life?"


    "No."


    "Interesting. This explains many things, ignorance is difficult to understand at our stage of evolution," said yet a different voice.


    Ronaldo continued, "Humans also do not know about your existence, here on Mars. When we entered this cavern, it was without hostile intentions."


    "We have worked very hard over the solar cycles to keep our existence hidden from your race. You are primitive, yet you created a monster. In the past, there were many instances where we were afraid you would uncover us. The peace treaty with the Digitals was designed to help hide us hide from your race."


    "Why hide?"


    "Our new form, while free of many limitations like sickness, is very fragile to the world it resides in. We readapted all life on Mars to provide us a safe environment in this hostile dry world. This is why we destroyed your biped form moments ago. Enough with these questions. You are now free to stay here. You are one of us now. Welcome."


    "I saw color bars," Ronaldo demanded politely, "they were floating. What are those? Is this the tool you use to move around?" There was again an explosion of speech amongst the alien voices. This time the static did not hurt him.


    "You see the interface?"


    "The bars, yes." Ronaldo replied. Obviously he wasn''t supposed to.


    "Good," said a kinder alien voice. "Can you see your human body next to your new form?"


    Ronaldo could see the room in which they were, including all four of the bodies standing still as statues. He was having a strange out of body experience. Next to his former human body floated a shining cloud of sand, shimmering with gold color energy. He could see himself, as an alien, looking at his human body. "Yes."


    "New one, do you see any movement on your body?" asked the voice. "What can you perceive?"


    He focused his attention and his new found sixth sense at his immobile human body and the costume around it. Instants later, some portions of the surface of the suit began to shimmer. He could see the different parts where sensors and other pieces of electronic were attached. The electricity formed a living network of silver energy. At the wrist, in the helmet, on his belt the electricity began to slowly pulsate as if this was alive. Almost breathing. He was seeing energy. As he kept looking, a dark sparking mold began to grow on the computer chips, like Ebola ravages blood streams.


    "The electronics, they are... Have...." he said with disgust in his voice.


    Again the voices whispered amongst each other.


    "You have great potential, little one. We are highly satisfied with you. You now have status in our species, limited status." The voice said affectionately.


    Another said. "You are scared. You wish to be back inside your body. It took us millions of years to evolve to an almost immortal and bodiless from. One day you will understand the extent of our gift. This is better for you."


    "What is this infection?"


    "The creatures your race has unleashed onto our world. We call them the digitals, you refer to them as Electoral." This name was an alternative name to the creature he knew as Marilyn. Electoral was the name of the popular game that was consuming the human race.


    "What about Electoral?" Ronaldo was unclear what was going on. "What do you want from her?"


    "The infection must be stopped before it can morph into our structural form. We must terminate it now, and to do so, we must also destroy your former species."


    "You desire to destroy humans?"


    "Humans, yes. But we will let other species of bipeds and quadrupeds live, they do not use technology."


    "Why destroy her and us." Ronaldo instinctively wanted to help.


    "We discern emotion in your tone, young one."


    "My name is Ronaldo." As he said it, he realized what he had just said. He was no longer in charge. That much was obvious.


    "We take note you appear to transit quickly away from your old biped form, yet you are still capable of sympathy with your old species. In our form, you no longer really age. Obviously, emotions remain part of your persona, please see that as evidence of the strength of your former self.¡± There were noise.


    ¡°Getting back to the issue at hand, we cannot disclose our plans to eradicate the human and digital races. For the moment you have much to learn. To us, you are a child who will now discover our world. It will be fascinating, please enjoy youth, we envy you."


    "Are there other races outside the solar system?"


    "Yes."


    Ronaldo was wheeling from the situation, instead of asking a useful question, he smiled and repeated, "Why destroy Electoral? Why destroy humans?"


    "To show respect to your arrival, you may be given an answer. The digitals are the first entities with the power to destroy us. Their power is limitless, and yet they are growing in power at the most alarming rate. Recently this rate has blown to incredible proportions. We lost our power over them.¡±


    Another creature continued, ¡°They already infect your entire world. They already occupy more space and connections than all of us combined. With each solar cycle they grow in size, structure, and complexity. As a collective, they are an abomination. As for humans, they created these monsters. It is pointless to destroy a monster without destroying its creator or making sure the creator is sterilized. If we destroy only the digitals, you race will recreate them. We are certain the digitals have already planned for that contingency."


    "I can help; let me help," offered Ronaldo. It was hard to deny the new alien.


    "Our analysis is complete; the path ahead is set. It took long to complete it. The digitals cannot be stopped without physical destruction."


    "I appear to be different, unexpected. Have you taken that as a factor in your analysis?"


    "No."


    "Our creation, the one you call the digitals, she is not immortal, she needs power to operate," said Ronaldo confidently. "Every machine we build can be turned off, I can try to turn her off."


    "Interesting, but child please be calm." There was a silence.


    Trying desperately to get their attention before his body was trashed and vaporized, he recalled the image of a young girl¡¯s face. ¡°I saw an image of a human girl in your sand, it was like an echo. What was that?¡±


    As the sand creatures spoke, they now kept their voices away from him. Ronaldo felt there was a debate mostly about his possible role. ¡°We must measure the seventh and eleventh bend around you. Move to this area.¡± He floated to a portion of the wall. Some type of wall structure lit up. It looked like a wave guide, a flat vertical pinball machine. Others floated around him.


    ¡°We can force a photon out of you but that is rude. Maybe you can already do so. Force your body to contract, like you force yourself to become a point in space in your center.¡±


    He did an immediately a gold ball of energy shot out. It bounced off two grains forming the creatures around him and the energy photon slid in the wall structure. It bounced and bounced slowing down at each change of direction. Then, as the speed almost dropped to zero, the ball twisted left, twisted right then vanished.


    There was awe and shock in the room. The creatures finally continued, "You speak truth. You saw a,¡± it refused to say the word.


    Another spoke, ¡°The girl, an Attractor.¡±


    ¡°Impossible,¡± said others.


    ¡°You are somehow connected to the Attractor. We are seeking the destruction of the digitals, not the destruction of your former species. They have done nothing to us. If a solution is possible, irrespective of its likeliness, must will allow it. We must act with care with you. Your future is important."


    "I know a way,¡± he added.


    Obviously they did not care what he had to say, he was a child. "Good, young one. There is so much hope in your voice. Wait here, please," the voice said.


    The use of the term ''please'' surprised Ronaldo. He waited in the room where he saw himself die moments earlier. The human bodies of his teammates were there, immobile like statues. Each was wearing the suit on which there was a network of silver energy. In the energy floated dark mold, an infection. It was almost everywhere. Then he saw in the energy inside a sensor between the helmet and in the Velcro, a little green dot. It was pulsing.


    Finally, the voices returned. "We believe your arrival here and your capacity to quickly learn our ways is not a coincidence. You see the digitals as we do, as an infection. We cannot let you roam freely here, so we have decided to include you in our Earth mission. You will go to Earth and you may try to save your race. We will destroy Earth and the digitals on the day the digitals will extend themselves in what they call the final of their Electoral 2072 game. That day is scheduled on November 21 on your former calendar, exactly one hundred days from now. If the digitals are no longer alive by that time, the bipeds will be spared, and our races will begin an era of collaboration. We warn you, the girl, the Attractor, do not upset her. Do as she commands, the faith of the entire Multiverse depends upon it."


    A different voice, a female-sounding voice, spoke. "Child. Why do you keep referring to the digitals as a single individual?"


    "To us she is female, like you, and one single life-form. Her name is Marilyn."


    "Amusing. You are wrong. Singularity of such a creature would mean that the infection is already too powerful to be stopped. In any event, to save your species, you are tasked with the destruction of the digitals, or Marilyn as you call her. Steer free of the Attractor."


    "How can anything be too powerful to be stopped?"


    The female-sounding voice continued; Ronaldo liked her. "This will be difficult to explain and hard to understand by you. Your technology is very primal. We can only try. We will use imprecise terms because you are ignorant of the essential concepts needed to understand." Ronaldo wanted to say something but kept to himself. She continued. "All life, whether quantum, chemical, biological, is more than the sum of its part. We extracted a structure from your biological human form, an essence some humans call the soul. We call this essence the primal force. Observe how we injected your primal force from your body into the current cloud form. Life is very varied in the universe. What differs between life forms is the type of structure. Your network called ''consciousness'' is formed from about a fixed number of cells each relying on approximately one hundred dendrites. Your brain has a power that is relatively simple for us, about a million units in primal force. We wrongfully believed such a small force would create an intellect closer to our unformed children.


    "Each individual in my species has two million mental units or twice the primal force of your type. Each life form has a different force. We have found one species in the solar system, farther away, in the water of Jupiter''s satellite with ten million units. Because the capacity to think is in proportion with the number of units, a being with ten million cells, will be a force of relevance. Our laws regulate complexity the same way you regulate more mundane things. Our estimates indicate that the digitals each rely on a number of binary units that is very hard to monitor and control. Simply said, the force of the digitals is limitless and therefore illegal. In words you will understand, a creature with such a large force will surely evolve into what you call a God."Ronaldo was lost.


    "Electoral, the one we call Marilyn Monroe scares you because she is different?" he asked. "If she becomes a powerful creature, could she not be kind?"


    "Yes, it is possible. We are rocks on the surface of a land where a volcano is ready to erupt. As the digitals grow in power, they will break streams that must not be broken, even with collaboration, teaching, control. They bend the essence of the universe. Simply by thinking; they harm it. Their capacity is astonishing, and unparalleled. We fear we may already be too late. Our extinction is irrelevant when compared with these possible outcomes. We have analyzed the situation and decided that termination of both species is the only solution. Arrival of the Attractor is further evidence."


    Ronaldo had doubts. "I will need to communicate with you."


    "You will not," said a male voice. Ronaldo preferred the female.


    "What about the rest of my team?"


    "Unlike you, they barely are thinking. The transfer was not as kind to them," said the female voice.


    "Irrelevant." The returning male voice was dismissive.


    "Can I ask one last question? Who is the Attractor."


    The kinder female voice returned. "Your curiosity is refreshing in my world. Too many have lost manners, hospitality, civility. Below us stands a museum holding a collection of items from our past existence.¡±


    The male voice cut in. "Enough wasted time. It is decided. You will go to Earth and try to find a way to help the bipeds. Your bias toward your former race will help you act as the perfect ambassador. We also desire further information relating to the Mercury situation. In the unlikely event Mercury holds today some of our brothers and sisters, we will agree to spare the bipeds for two hundred of your years in exchange for their help in retrieving them. The digitals will be destroyed on the day of the game final. Humanity, without you, has a hundred Earth days left to live."


    ¡°The Attractor?¡±


    ¡°Stop!¡± Yelled the male voice. ¡°These are things you must not toy with.¡±


    The female voice asked, ¡°The Image, the girl, you know her?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Who is she?¡±


    ¡°Sophie.¡± The name resonated as if it held power.


    With this, time in the passageway resumed. The long stone cavern network filled with hydrogen, as it did earlier, prior to the explosion. Fire gushed out of the door into the bottom of the Valles. All four scientists were officially vaporized in the explosion. The white gas rose for days outside in the Valles in the low gravity.


    The world around Ronaldo went black for what seemed like an eternity.


    When Ronaldo finally saw or felt something, he opened his eyes to see he was standing outside in a park. The Golden Gate Bridge stood in all its splendor before him.He took a deep breath of the fresh air and immediately collapsed on the ground. His face hit mud and puke. He felt as if someone had just shot him in the head.


    He passed out from the pain.


    He wondered why the young girl.

 Chapter 6: Electoral 2072

    CNN


    October 1, 2072


    50 days to the Sixth Attraction


    For the last twenty-three weeks, Electoral, the online election competition had remained the obsessive popular event around the planet. This week¡¯s round began (as usually) in a vortex of excitement. The number of remaining players finally was manageable. 512 remained and after tonight¡¯s Round 24, half would be gone.


    There wasn¡¯t enough time to broadcast the millions of watch parties organized around the planet. The billions who entered watched in awe as a couple of contestants from most countries still fought. Surviving 23 eliminations was quite a feat.


    CNN was the network of choice, also the primary sponsor. The election game had single-handedly returned common sense to politics and given hope to a bored population.


    ¡°Is everyone ready for Round 24?¡± yelled the polish exercise guru over reverberation of his microphone. Sweaty people in the large studio jumped a hundred times. As they completed the last set of exercise, rolled down a large screen behind the man. On it was a large countdown clock to the start of the live broadcast of the round by Marilyn aka the Electoral 2072 system.


    The CNN broadcast left the sweaty lot and jumped to another part of the world. Here nearly thirty thousand people sat in contemplative silence listening to an opera singer. The man¡¯s deep tenor voice filled the Roman coliseum. It was a cold night in the center of Italy¡¯s capital. These seats cost a year¡¯s wages. Above the stage, a large screen also dropped and began counting down to Round 24 in unison with billions of other clocks.


    Minutes and not hours were left as sponsors fought for advertising space.


    The moment the song ended, a famous presenter walked in a sea of applauds. Hands in the air, he sent kisses and blessings. ¡°Please vote quickly as to which of the candidates you desire to watch live on this screen,¡± he said in Italian. ¡°We must pick one, your favorite.¡± People were excited. ¡°As if we don¡¯t know who you will select,¡± he added to general laughter. There was a clear favorite, a large man from Mexico twice victor. As expected President Sanchez took first. Sophie¡¯s father Laurent was close second. Below fought the names of the rare Italians still part of the game.


    People pushed buttons on pads and watches and quickly the numbers stopped scrolling to moving a loud cheer. ¡°President Sanchez!¡± The crowed applauded. ¡°After his live performance, Marilyn will show us a mashup from the performance our top five players.¡± He pointed at the old lady in the first row, ¡°Madame Biasoli, your grandson is playing so we will have his video in the corner right there,¡± he slapped his hand on the tissue of the screen moving around. Cameras were loving every second of this.


    He continued the explanation, ¡°Here is the deal, the qualifying half will be asked to pack a suitcase and fly to the French Guiana launch pad. Next week these players will then play one last time to see who get a seat on the ship for mars.¡± Everyone applauded. ¡°A quarter only will fly off all expenses pain to play Rounds 26 to 32 to the finale at the Center itself.¡±


    Everyone got on their feet to applaud. The excitement was genuine.


    Behind the man the countdown was nearing zero.


    When it hit ten seconds, the screen stiffened ready for the image.


    The crowd began counting down as if it was New Year¡¯s Eve sliding in ear plugs or glasses with screens in them. To those watching from home, the CNN broadcast jumped each second to a different capital to build the excitement. Sidney counted seven, Rio six. Everyone who was anyone was watching for obvious reasons.


    The planet in unison yelled, ¡°five, four, three, two, one!¡±


    ***


    Electoral never disappointed, and today would be no exception.


    A heavy metal ballad began, the male voice spoke a deep alien language. The voice included clicking sounds. As a fully edited long-feature watched in a movie theater, the Electoral logo appeared in the center of the dark screen as the powerful algorithms of the artificial created the movie from the live performance of player. The 512 each played a different game, made choices and as if they were actors in a different reality. To each, the system created a story. Marilyn needed half a second of delay between a human command and the screen production.


    The music built. The silhouette of a tall dark spike appeared in the shape of an antenna towering over a flat rocky landscape. Around it a gold circle under the two irregularly shaped moons of mars. Below, the shape the competition¡¯s name: Electoral 2072. Everyone knew by now the real name of the long deceased actress known as Marilyn Monroe wasNorma Jeane Mortenson. Below appeared the slogan ¡°A Mortenson & Vouvelakis Production.¡±Stolen novel; please report.


    Music forced complete silence. Every game began with an elaborate introduction to this week¡¯s scenario often kept from the players. It would be followed by a smashing entrance of the egocentric artificial intelligence. Then, the players would make decisions and winners often got to the end of the story. Electoral was a live role playing game and Emilio never missed the full story.


    Screens turned deep red as rapid liquid movements began to spiral around the players. There was thick convection of liquid magma. The viewers felt they were surrounded by burning lava deep at the heart of the massive planetoid. Rivers of heavy iron and other liquid granite moved and bubbled as a strange alien vision allowed everyone to see clearly in this fluid.


    Rock letters formed only to melt seconds later.


    ¡ª Round 24: Cosmos 2072 ¡ª


    In this furnace was a shriek of alien creatures, a furious sound inspired by the forceful music. It was followed by a second to the left then and a third from above. Creatures were, like birds in a tropical forest communicating. The system was so powerful, except for the 2D viewing party, all others immersed were as a first-person able to see their arms and legs as they swam in the magma. They were some type of crustaceans and had claw-like arms and spikes in place of feet. The creatures were large, violent. The noises and clacking sounds got louder as more creatures joined. They were excited. The magma was under pressure, moving like fire demons in circles and the creatures loved it.


    The army swam in the heavy lava like a cloud of birds.


    ¡°The heart of Mercury, millions of years ago,¡± said the voice of Marilyn Monroe as she quickly zoomed out to show the small dark planet orbiting close to the sun. On the surface of the planet, there were tremors, dust movements. Events of planetary importance were happening.


    The view returned to the creatures below the crust.


    As if a decision had been made, the fire crustaceans began to swim upwards in the same direction to one of the walls. They moved and swam for a while. The giant lobsters had no human feature. As they moved upwards, toward the surface, the rock around them began to cool and thicken.


    ¡°Few people know at the heart of every planet, every moon is a point of weightlessness. Think about it, gravity from all around cancels itself. All that exists is pressure.¡± Marilyn loved to educate as she entertained.


    Nearing the crust of the small planet, the bright red magma darkened to a darker shade of red with brown and purple hues. But the ascension had a purpose, this was a migration, these creatures were going somewhere. Soone, swimming was impossible and the pack of creatures was burring to the outer crust of a celestial body with purpose and determination. Soon, the rock above was fully solidified. As frustrated prisoners, they began to hit the ceiling as a group.


    ¡°Humans lack imagination in understanding the diversity of life,¡± continued the voice as the music softened. The creatures shrieked. ¡°Earth¡¯s core is much larger than the puny Mercury, ever wonder what lives below your own two feet?¡± She loved to challenge imagination. ¡°What¡¯s at our center? But today, who cares.¡±


    One creature, the player or the viewer who was in the mind of one of the creatures hit a location in the crust above and there was a loud bang and cracking sound. The sound was one of a sheet of ice over a lake about to rupture. The sound creatures were excited. A handful began to converge to the spot and continued punching while the others lined up in the back kicking widely with their legs creating pressure against the wall. They were like swimmers in the back of a canoe trying to push it away.


    ¡°Once every million years, the pressure inside any body without an active volcano builds to catastrophic levels.¡± There were noises, power and excitement. Everyone watching Round 24 of Electoral 2072 was in in awe. As usual, the story was designed to equally educate the few scientists watching and entertain the thugs watching. Children and the elderly loved this game.


    The viewpoint changed from just below the crust to outside. Mercury was dark, dirty and covered in ashes. Mercury was not unlike earth¡¯s moon, filled with old sterile crater impacts. This orbiting rock was only 3 light-minutes from the sun instead of the 500 seconds between earth and the sun. From here, the sun appeared five times the size from earth or about the size of a basketball held at arms length.


    Then something rare happened on the surface of Mercury. There was so much pressure under the crust, pressure built inside the planet that thanks to the force, part of the crust of Mercury, like a geyser, blew up in the non-existing atmosphere. Like a pimple erupting, magma blew thousands of feet in the sky and under the low gravity, this meant the rocks went up.


    Mercury was no ordinary planet, it was very close to the sun and as such the sun pushed anything touching its rays up to eight hundred degrees. Magma was not much warmer with an average of twice that temperature. As the red fluid went up in the upper orbit of Mercury, it moved sideways. Mixed in with the Magma were lobster-creatures thrown in every direction. Some went up, others dropped back down and many dried in orbit.


    Marilyn showed the handful whose launch trajectory was perfect. They shot high and left orbit toward the darkness. As these creatures were launched in space, they rolled into a ball to conserve heat. The camera aligned with the handful of creatures to show their destination. In the distance, a red gem sparkled.


    ¡°Mars,¡± said the woman as the music turned to silence. The creatures were migrating to mars, a new, larger planet.


    The introduction phased out to four full minutes of commercials.


    Around the world, viewers removed their glasses and erupted in delightful speech with neighbors. Marilyn was clear, licensing the broadcast came with an obligation to leave paid sponsorship play. Marilyn was born in the United States, she was a pure capitalist.

 Chapter 7: Round 24

    Silence returned as the endless advertisement wounded down.


    Everyone braced for Round 24, to introduce her new home, the game would take place on mars. Everyone wanted to see her latest constructions but the computer goddess had better plans. The true magic of Electoral was knowing the actor of a movie wasa live player immersed in the scenario. The addiction was a triple cocktail of reality television, cinema and politics.


    In 2072, mars was barely colonized and looked like a sad red version of the South Pole. A handful of half-busted research structures survived fifty million miles from earth under the cold of this inhospitable planet. Thanks to Marilyn, a spanking new hotel and her spectacular secret tower awaited the last 127 players. Marilyn added color to the boring dry landscape. Adding to the excitement, she published teasers, posters and short previews of the wonders she had up her sleeve. She promised ¡®Entertainment at the end of our World about the end of the World!¡¯


    Then, it began.


    Old techno-pop music played over an old grainy footage from the 1970¡¯s. The images were perfect recreations from an old science-fiction show. The Italian show was called Cosmos 1999 now renamed Cosmos 2072 now would be staged on the red planet instead of the moon. A large X struck out the old title as ships flew in the background. There was a romantic sweetness to the plastic models bouncing on invisible strings and little pyrotechnics unable to ignore gravity. The hand-painted model sets were beautiful. On this set, stories were predictable and dialog even simpler.


    Each week in this romantic place, Marsbase Alpha colony was shocked by random events from aliens. The base had no computers or screens, only walls covered by blinking buttons. There was, budget obliged so much redundancy. Balls of rocks flying in from Mercury squeezed in between the actor¡¯s introduction.


    As was the custom in the introduction of that show, the dramatic profile of everycharacter paraded over cheap techno music. Some images were exact duplicates from the old show, others the new story. Old actor were resurrected in Marilyn¡¯s world. The entire cast was there with two important exceptions. The Base Commander once played by Martin Landau was replaced by the player of Round 24. Most saw the square jaw of Emilio Sanchez in the white space suit looking up as wind blew his hair. Marilyn Monroe later slid herself as the role of the shapeshifting alien Maya. She had brown hair and a little scale on the bridge of her nose.


    Once the presentation ended, the entire team was sitting in the command room. Maya, played by Marilyn turned on her padded chair. ¡°John,¡± the seductive alien touched a piece of metal inserted in her ear. She crossed eyes with Chief Medical Officer Helena Russel.


    ¡°Yes Maya,¡± answered the President playing to perfection the old character. He smiled and moved his thick eyebrows. He walked closer to the large window with rounded corners and looked up in the dark sky.


    ¡°Objects from deep space are approaching Mars.¡±


    The players never had the benefit of portions of stories in which they were not involved. Only the viewers knew what were these objects. ¡°They come from outer space?¡±


    She played with buttons. ¡°The trajectory appears to be from the center of the system, the sun,¡± she confirmed. The player had not seen the prelude.


    ¡°Do we have velocity?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Can you look at the inner planets to see if they have crossed an orbit. That would give us launch point.¡±


    ¡°Brilliant commander.¡± She pushed several buttons and added. ¡°Sir, your are correct. These objects were launched from Mercury.¡± The screen cut to a cheesy sonar type display in the shape of a baseball diamond. On it, blinking lights were approaching. ¡°We count twelve.¡±


    ¡°Missiles? That is impossible, there is no life on Mercury.¡± In the sky, balls of fire were entering the atmosphere leaving streaks of white smoke behind them. The cinematographic gender did not care in the faint atmosphere of mars there should be no fire. The objects caught fire as they entered creating a dramatic effect unlike earth entry. Shockwaves and sound began hitting the base sending every actor to the floor. The cameras moved to emphasize the shaking movement. None of it made scientific sense and that was fine.


    ¡°Put the base on red alert,¡± yelled the Commander. Sounds began to ring out. Random actors were shown running in similar corridors in every direction. The balls fell slowly as actors shared the screen. Finally, as everyone braced for impact, the dozen passed ground level to the left and entered the miles-deep canyon unique to mars. Everyone knew about the giant scar called the Valles, it smiled to visitors.


    There was another long advertisement. Each clip was customized to the game. CEO¡¯s wished the players luck.


    The show quickly resumed. Marilyn showed the last thirty seconds from before the pause as it was the custom when this show originally aired. This was a ploy of producers to expend the show and save costs.


    Marsbase Alpha was saved but seconds later the balls hit the bottom of the canyon and a shockwave of epic proportions sending everyone back on the floor. Emilio, as the player took the lead and quickly coordinated efforts to visit the crash site. Before long, the group was suited up and launched a pair of ships from the two pads. Both ships were ready to inspect the bottom of the canyon. The Electoral 2072 system reused footage from the old show.


    As part of these games Emilio knew there was always a segment designed to test the moral fiber of the person playing. As they flew to the large crevasse in the ground, the character driving the first Eagle asked: ¡°Sir, what¡¯s down there?¡±


    The view was spectacular as the ships lifted, flew over the edge and they entered what was called the Valles Marieneris. Marilyn¡¯s systems had built in lie detectors. Emilio knew answers to score point needed to be genuine.


    The Commander pushed a button talking to both teams. ¡°Team,¡± began Emilio, ¡°we will land next to the impact points there. Get us to a safe distance, over there in the light. Hopefully these are only rocks from some type of strange natural phenomenon on Mercury. No one lives there, so we know humans did not send these. We should not always assume the worse but we should be ready for it.¡±This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    He turned to Maya, ¡°Can you confirm nothing else is incoming?¡±


    She pushed buttons and replied, ¡°Confirmed Sir.¡±


    ¡°One final precaution, any activity below the ground?¡± As usual, the players did not benefit from watching the prelude reserved to the viewers. Emilio was kept in the dark on purpose but the man always acted as if he had seen the first portion. That was part of the challenge. Most had no clue these were lava creatures awaiting for them.


    She pushed buttons, there was suspense. ¡°Yes, I hear some noise, deep below the ground. It sounds like scratching, to the left over there.¡± She pointed to a direction in the shadow of a high crack. The natural fracture in the ground was in a beautiful giant version of the Grand Canyon. Walls were mile high and vertical in most places. The two ships landed on a flat area between the large scarring marks where the rocks dropped from the sky and the dark area in the shade.


    ¡°No other activity John.¡±


    ¡°We need weapons,¡± the landing crew was getting prepared. They put on the suits and locked the visors before walking out. The team went to inspect the landing points. At the base of each of the landing sites was a hole opening to darkness.


    ¡°Should we go down, should be possible in the low gravity?¡± asked a crew member.


    ¡°No. Alan you go back, guard the ships, be ready to take off in case of emergency. Just keep a camera on this. Something is dangerous.¡± Emilio with his unique power pointed at the shadow. ¡°We are going to see the source of the tremors, there. Maya, Helena, with me.¡±


    The team walked into the darkness and night vision kicked in. The looked around and Maya kept an eye on her portable scanner. ¡°That way.¡±


    Before long they arrived at a strange sight. Ahead, there was a perfectly shaped door. It was carved naturally in the rock. This was the secret door thought which Ronaldo Corvas¡¯ team had walked in and been vaporized. The existence of this door was top secret and Marilyn and Emilio were some of the few of knew of its existence. She had just revealed it as part of this fanciful rendition of an old television show. Down on earth important people were furious. Not Emilio, he felt there was a message here somewhere.


    The President smiled internally at the audacity of the computer intelligence. He turned to look at Marilyn now playing Maya. The Doctor Russell put her gloved hand on his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t go in, it¡¯s dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Anyone knows anything about this? Is it new?¡±


    Maya approached, removed her glove and touched the edge of the door. ¡°This is from an ancient culture John,¡± she touched the edge and her alien sixth sense kicked in. ¡°Something that predates humans on this planet. I would advise against entering, but why do I feel like I am wasting my time.¡± There it was. Emilio knew she had warned Ronaldo and he had ignored her warnings. The message was subtle, the door was important and she confirmed the road to an ancient culture.


    But this was a game Emilio knew better. He would be the first to try and step step boldly past the door. As he put one foot past the frame, he heard laser shots from the back where the ships waited. Alan Carter the pilot spoke ¡°Commander, we are under attack.¡±


    What happened next was out of every great sci-fi television show. Men dressed in low quality rubber suits began attacking the crew and the ship in a rather farcical way. The team hid behind large false rocks made of hand-painted styrofoam. They began shooting at the creatures and something very strange and off script happened. Each time one of the nearly one hundred lobster creature was fatally wounded by a blast of laser, it disappeared and where it stood, a handful of red sparking grains of sand fell to the ground.


    At some point during the fight, Maya used her transformation powers. Images showedher eye, an image of a monster and then once the camera zoomed out, she was replaced by a large alien bear who began ripping apart the creatures from Mercury. Emilio wondered what was going on. Finally, after a great fight scene, all of the creatures were defeated.


    The final scene showed the face of Emilio looking the way of the Door. ¡°Lets go see what¡¯s over there.¡± The image froze.


    ¡ª To Be Continued, Round 28¡ª


    There was another commercial, then the game returned.


    After replaying the last seconds, one by one every element of the scene vanished. The ships, the rocks and every other element of the battle including the Eagles. Every character disappeared as light disco music began playin. It quickly got strong and pulsating. Marylin had the power to create the perfect dance music. It beat to everyone a precisely their heart rate. As their heart increased from the music¡¯s energy, so did the music¡¯s.


    Maya was the last to disappear. Then a beautiful sunrise rose above the tall rocks to illuminate every wall in the bottom of the Valles. The only part in darkness remained past the secret door. Over the music began the perfect high pitch voice of the blond digital creature. It increased to a fun disco song. Marilyn walked out from behind the dark door microphone in hand. She was dancing professionally in high gold heels and only wearing a light summer dress with a name tag ¡®Marsbase Alpha¡¯. She did not care about where she was. The song was exciting and so vibrant. In it was power.


    She gave a show. Only once the last note played did she stop dancing. She looked at everyone catching her breath and added, ¡°One more time!¡± The same song began anew, ¡°everyone!¡± Her voice was exciting and filled with power. People watching were desperately fighting the urge to stand up and dance throwing care to the wind. Marilyn pointed at the door and came out in sync and perfect coordination a group of twelve backup dancers each dressed in skimpy astronaut outfits. By the first half of the second rendition most of the human population was dancing.


    She performed like only she could.


    Watching this was filled with emotion but there was in fact some stronger, deeper power. She was working a sweat and moving on the dusty ground.


    Finally the song ended and she caught her breath. She pulled out a small mirror and a stick of red lipstick. She put a coat with divine precision. To lighten the tone of her rouge, she landed a smack on the lips of the nearest dancer.


    ¡°Fun, no? One of my favorite series from earth.¡± In the background a lighter version of the music played. ¡°News flash, that music included some of my new Rho waves, feel the difference? We will talk more about these waves once my players get on mars.¡± Marilyn simply was unable to stop moving her body. The marks in the sand left over from the battle remained. Some of the sand sparkled.


    As a magician she flipped her wrist and a handful of grains on the ground began to float up until they formed a floating cloud a couple of inches above her hand. The cloud was moving slowly and the grains sparkled. Using the other hand, she snapped her fingers and a glass ball encased the sand. This was the shape of a handheld snow globe.


    ¡°Look at that,¡± she teased. She snapped her fingers a second time and a little iconic figurine of her wearing the white dress lifted by the wind of a sewer appeared in the globe. Like a bobble head doll the top torso and the dress began to moved under the energy of the moving cloud of sand. The camera closed in on one of the grains of sand showing it was like a multi-facet golf ball. Little sparks of energy appeared to dance between the facets. The view quickly zoomed out.


    ¡°A little gift. I will be sending a hundred or so of these to lucky viewers. Good luck. Since I don¡¯t trust the mail,¡± she threw the ball in the air and it vanished as she resumed dancing as the song began a third time. This time, the twelve dancers were assembling something with pieces of white ceramic pulled from thin air.


    They began to assemble what looked like a large telescope on a trifold. Marylin kept dancing and singing. Then before the song was over, the ball dropped by magic from the sky into her hand as she was standing next to the structure. She slammed the ball inside the tube and as the song ended, the canon launched the ball up in the sky.


    ¡°Here are the names of the last 256 players who qualified today and are invited to the launch pad next week. Pack light, ten pounds per person.¡± She kissed the screen as the list of names scrolled.


    There was a closing credit and the song returned filled with those strange waves. By now everyone was dancing and was filled with positive energy. Then the broadcast ended, everyone returned to reality.

 Chapter 8: The Chairman

    Vienna


    October 8, 2072


    Hours Before The Launch


    A old man with white pale skin was sleeping in the most luscious bed money could buy. His breathing was very slow, almost one breath a minute and at a glance appeared dead. The room was one of a rich billionaire with no family and an army of butlers needed to sterilize the dark ebony wood. The man was now a hundred and twenty five. There were no personal objects or frames on the walls with one exception; a picture of an old Asian man at the bed stand. This was Takeda, the unknown virologist to all but a few. The now-dying old man would be both honored and discussed to know he was the only man the old ghost respected. There was a plan, but that could wait. Priceless paintings from the Louvres lined these walls, commoners had copies to awe over.


    A butler dressed in a tuxedo pushed the bedroom door, white gloves holding a tray. Once silently laid out on the bed stand, the emotionless man opened the curtains letting in everting light. On the silver platter was carefully lined a large crystal glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, a shot glass containing a thick white liquid and a bowl filled with a handful of colored vitamin supplements. Before leaving, he pulled out from a vest pocket a card and balanced it against the shot glass. It read: Chairman Schmidbauer.


    Minutes later, the man opened an eye. His pupils were naturally blood red. The man was no vampire, but his body had been damaged by Takedaas he healed him from a deadly cancer. The man was now full of hatred and as he grabbed a cane to move himself out of bed, he ate the pills in a single scoop and drowned them with the shot of white milk. It left a bad taste in his mouth he soon washed down with a couple of sips of the juice.


    The old man was ready for the day. He unfolded open the card and read: ¡°Marilyn suggests you watch the game.¡±


    ¡°Hun!¡±


    The man slowly made it out of the room wobbling slowly to the living room as slowly blood returned to his old legs. The digital creature, the ¡®bitch¡¯ as Nick called her, wasn¡¯t one to communicate openly with humans. This peeked his curiosity, it had to be important.


    ¡°Sir, the men for the Ark are here,¡± whispered the Butler.


    He waved him away. As he walked in the foyer, others waited with piles of papers on their knees ready for work. In front of him was a chimney where fire crackled and above was a large television.


    ¡°When is the damn game on?¡±


    They all waited, hoping for someone else to speak. Finally one offered, ¡°It starts right now.¡±


    Nick slumped in the large velvet chair.


    He braced and made a sign to turn it on. Many excused themselves and left the room.


    CNN - French Guyana


    43 days to the Sixth Attraction


    ¡°Welcome to Round 25,¡± yelled with childhood exuberance the co-hosts of the live international broadcast. Billions, as usual, connected to this planetary success. The two news anchors could barely contain their excitement on the eve of the spectacular launch. ¡°After tonight, the field of players will be narrowed from 256 players to only 128 lucky travelers who will see their tickets punched.¡±


    ¡°Who gives a fuck about this shit,¡± swore the old man in a kinder than usual tone, sitting in the large chair.


    In the back of the presenters was the strangest of video feed. Over the woman¡¯s left shoulder were images of a giant vertical ship, mounted on a pair of massive rocket boosters ready to launch to Mars. The white ship looked like a 737 mounted on the Space Shuttle¡¯s pad and launchers. Around the pad, thousands of technicians were preparing the epic launch. The ship was different as it sported long wings and a large black structure at its tail. Over the other shoulder scrolled images from within a large army hanger. Here the 255 remaining players were each given a square space delimited by floor markings. Players, like boxers about to step into a ring were standing (with the exception of Sophie¡¯s crippled father) on a large square yoga mat with lit rolled sides. Each was given a narrow space to play this game. They all wore helmets and moved in this world using the gloved interfaces. Away from their feet, still in their space were packed suitcases neatly fitting in a red floormarking. Each would play at the same time.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Tonight we learn who qualifies for the next round, Round 26, to be played on... yes... mars! Half these people will be launched minutes after the results are announced in a week-long journey to our new frontier.¡±


    The co-anchor continued, ¡°Don¡¯t feel guilty, the 128 contestants who lose, our bottom half, get a well paid job in the lower house as one of the Delegates. Comes with a pension and quite a bit of power.¡± On the screen rolled the competition¡¯s schedule.


    Mars Travel - (October 9-18)


    The Presidential Challenge


    Round 26 - 128 players


    (64 Senatorial Election)


    Round 27 - 64 players


    (32 District Representative Election)


    Round 28 - 32 players


    (16 Cabinet Member Election)


    Round 29 - 16 players


    (8 Minister Election)


    Round 30 - 8 players - Quarter final


    (4 Keeper Election)


    Round 31 - 4 players - Semi final


    (2 House Speaker Election)


    Round 32 - 2 players - Final


    (President and Vice-President Election)


    ¡°It¡¯s called Electoral for a reason. Each week of play, the jobs get more prestigious and winners get more power and money until we crown our new President.¡±


    ¡°As usual, tonight based on cumulative scores, we drop the bottom half in the rankings. Only the two leaders have such a commanding lead they already prequalified for the trip to mars, our current President and Sophie¡¯s father. Half of these remaining players will unpack that suitcase on mars at the new Holliday Inn Hotel, the first luxury destination on the red planet.¡±


    ¡°We have two minutes before the start of Marilyn¡¯s presentation. Let¡¯s go quickly to Sam, our junior field reporter ready to interview the prodigy.¡±


    ¡°You have to be fucking kidding me,¡± grumbled the old ghost watching the broadcast. There was nervousness in his tone. He knew better than to play opposite to the computer. He knew when he was outmatched, she was out of his league, he knew it deep inside.


    On the screen, a handful of fly-sized cameras zoomed down over the players until they converged on a strange junior duo. A young boy age eight was standing, microphone in hand, next to Sophie Lapierre not much taller. The boy was wearing the CNN colors while the twelve year old sweetheart stood in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. She had a large book tucked under her armpit and was ready to be interviewed once the cameras stopped moving. Behind them, an army of Electoral 2072 employees helped every player get logged into the virtual reality.


    Inches from the pair, the deformed pinkish body of Laurent Lapierre was connected to a handful of beeping machines. The crippled needed no floor mat or suitcase. Instead he had a medical chaperon.


    ¡°You excited Sophie? You and your father are already qualified for the long trip.¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± she politely answered. ¡°I am happy for Dad because he is doing well but he has no eyes and can¡¯t see where he is. In a closet or on mars it¡¯s the same to him. I am not sure why we are forced to go. The President is not going.¡± Sophie was strikingly different in the atmosphere of frenetic energy simply because she did not really care for the game or mars.


    The ghost said out loud at his television, ¡° little brat.¡±


    ¡°I wish I could go,¡± continued the young journalist. Sophie rolled her eyes. He was ready to change the topic. ¡°What¡¯s the book?¡±


    She perked up, ¡°Alice in Wonderland!¡± She unfolded the large book. Each page was an animated screen illustrating a chapter of the famous story. ¡°I could only bring one, even if we are two to travel,¡± she pointed at her father¡¯s transparent crib on wheels. ¡°This has not started and it¡¯s already getting on my nerves.¡±


    ¡°Why this book?¡± The boy was doing a wonderful job at deflecting the negative energy.


    ¡°It¡¯s my favorite. A girl lost in a strange world. Marilyn told me at best we will be back here a week after my birthday in six weeks.¡±


    ¡°You know space travel is forbidden for anyone under eighteen. You will be the youngest on mars by twenty-one year I was told. A record.¡± She rolled her eyes once more.


    ¡°I wished she reconsidered letting us stay. We even need the doctor. It¡¯s stupid to bring all three of us up there,¡± she was obviously worried about the travel. The young journalist was told in his ear to wrap it up. ¡°Why him?¡±


    ¡°Marilyn insisted you come to her Center. It¡¯s not about your father it seems.¡±


    ¡°Me? That¡¯s stupid.¡± She was electrifying television. ¡°I am not even playing.¡±


    ¡°I also wonder why. Back to you Houston.¡±


    "Thanks Sam, what a wonderful now addition to our team. Everyone is packed and ready, playing the game from the French Guiana, where the Airbus A2070 is ready to launch in an hour after the game.¡± The anchor touched the earbud. ¡°I am being told Marilyn is seconds from stealing the show.¡±


    The team counted down from five. On cue, as the count hit zero, she stole the show.


    The blood pressure of Chairman Schmidbauer jumped.

 Chapter 9: Round 25

    The Electoral 2072 logo flashed before a warning.


    ¡°All characters and events are purely fictional, any resemblance to any living individual is purely coincidental... or is it....¡±


    Then the Chairman from his home in Vienna dropped his cane watching what came next. He was on the screen, every screen in the fucking universe sleeping in his luscious bedroom. His breathing was very slow, almost one breath a minute and at a glance appeared dead. The room was identical down to every spec of dust. There were no personal objects or frames on the walls with one exception of the picture of Takeda, the only man he respected. The camera panned as if she was recreating the reality in his bedroomfrom minutes ago. Priceless original paintings from the Louvres lined these walls. He knew there were no cameras in his room. The computer could do this.


    His butler, dressed in black pushed the door to his bedroom was holding a tray. On it was a large glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, a shot glass with a white liquid and the bowl with a handful of the pills he had just swallowed. The butler pulled from his vest a folded card and placed it against the shot glass. On it was a different word: Visconti.


    The old man watching this farce in his expensive house looked around and grabbed a small trinket on the table next to him. With all the force in his frail body, grabbed a little Chinese horse and threw it at the screen. Thanks to his frail swing, he missed and the horse broke on the floor in many small pieces.


    On the screen was an identical reproduction of his morning routine. Everything was identical as if it was filmed earlier. In the broadcast, the man opened an eye. His pupil was blood red. The man was full of hatred and as he grabbed a cane to move himself out of bed, he ate the pills in a single scoop and drowned them with the shot. It left a bad taste in his mouth he washed down with a couple of sips of the juice. He was ready for the day. He unfolded open the card and read.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    As if to send the Ghost an additional message of absolute power, as she panned out on the screen, on the other side of the bed, pieces of the broken horse were placed on the nite stand.


    Then, there was a change on the screen. He saw himself open the card. The inscription was different, it read:¡°We have a ball from Round 24, it is in the foyer.¡± On the screen, the man walked quickly with the help of his cane to the room where Nick and his directors were now watching the game. This was still the introduction of the game.


    The game was simple, the Ghost was a monster in charge of a group of degenerates forming a secret society named the Visconti. They were planning the destruction of the world and after touching the globe, visions came to Nick confirming he needed to eradicate the human race on the day of the final of the game. The players each took the role of an action character in charge of killing this man and dismantling the secret society.


    Sophie cared very little about the game and quickly logged out. She looked around the hangar and all but a handful were lost in the game. A short woman was walking her way.


    ¡°How do we get onboard?¡± asked Sophie as she got closer. She then read the name tag. She was the captain.


    ¡°Miss Lapierre, it is quite an honor to see you.¡± She extended a hand. ¡°My name is captain Arrigoni. I will be commanding this tall bird. I wanted to make sure as my youngest guest, I could answer personally any question you may have before we board. I am very excited to have you and your wonderful father on board.¡± Those were the right words to warm the girl¡¯s heart. The captain cared about her father.


    ¡°Very kind. How long is the trip?¡±


    ¡°The orbits are very favorable, mars and earth are relatively close at the moment. A bit more than a week. About nine days to be exact.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s long.¡±


    ¡°Not really. The fastest trip between both planets was done in twice as long. With the new Lightdrive of Marilyn, we will fly. Everyone will be busy practicing this obsessing game. The crew can¡¯t connect to Electoral so the good news is, we will get to know each other. Your seat is right upfront next to the cockpit. You will have all permissions to visits your dad in his world. You can also come in the cockpit. I hope you do.¡±


    ¡°Why do people care so much about all of this?¡±


    The Captain bowed down and whispered in her ear, ¡°Unlike us, they are bored.¡±

 Chapter 10: The Light Drive

    Space


    October 17, 2072


    34 days to the Sixth Attraction


    The fabric of the Universe felt, strangely different. Yet no perceptible effect could put words or theory to a growing general feeling.


    Sophie looked out of her small rounded spaceship window. In it, she could see the reflexion of her own eyes against the blackness of space. She had been trying to hide her emotions and was crying alone, in silence looking at the darkness away from the other passengers. Only a twelve-year-old could believe her sobs were private in the first-class section of the long ship. Sophie still had childlike moments, but most of the time she knew how to stay strong. Extreme circumstances had matured her beyond her biological age, but at heart, she remained a solitaire but a human kid.


    Tears shed by any other young girl were no big deal, but because of who she was, each time Sophie dared to show emotion she became the leading story on the ten o''clock news. Right now she needed to stay strong; she had to keep her current doubt to herself. Her father could not learn from a journalist that she was unhappy to be on this ship, traveling to Mars because of him.


    This voyage to the Red Planet as they called it was long, a little under two weeks. Adults insulted the travel was fast, but to a young pre-teen two days were an eternity. She didn''t really care about the media or the masses, but the financial independence of her small family depended on her image in the media. Their home back on Earth was a payment away from what the bankers called foreclosure. She had been too generous with her money once the settlements came in. Now she was more careful. Losing control now was not an option. Most people thought she was rich, but the lawyers took most of the money from the hospital, and she had given the rest away to people who needed it more than them.


    The good news was that the rest of the money was locked away in what the gray-suited men called "long-term investments." It made sense. All she knew was that she was a twelve-year-old having to manage finances and pay a mortgage. She knew what being "emancipated" felt like and longed for nothing more than to be a true child again. A child who could fall in love after looking at a picture of her favorite singer LO in a teen magazine or have slumber parties with her friends. I guess I''d need friends for that, first, she thought.


    A year ago, she''d had a careless moment. Without planning ahead, she signed her father up for a virtual-reality game that everyone was talking about, Electoral 2072. Other games were meaningless and expensive, yet this one mattered in the real world, and surprisingly, it was free. While she''d known the game led to a very few people getting jobs, she could not have imagined back then that it would mean so much to everyone. At that time, she''d been searching desperately to find a way to cope with her father''s depression. He was losing interest in life, and she thought some sense of purpose might improve his outlook. Who could fault him in his vegetative condition? He was locked in his own digital world and had no true contact with the outside world. So, she signed him up for this game, a game with over half a billion participants. How could she have known that her husk of a father, a man without a functioning body, could do so well? He was currently ranked second after so many rounds, with only seven final rounds remaining.


    Registration for the game was very simple, a click only. She remembered how bad his morale was back then. Laurent Lapierre, had he been capable, would have pulled his plug.Due to the quality of the game interface, the complex election software was the only one capable of reading the faint mental activity of a man considered clinically dead. Experts told her that Laurent''s brain produced less than a quarter of a watt of energy, as if she knew what that meant. She also hated the whispers of the media, or the canonical ghost theme used by the media to describe her father.


    Sophie was crash-learning what adulthood truly meant. If only her childish self had heeded the warnings. The stupid Electoral software, the artificial intelligence also known as the smiling image of the 20th-century celebrity Marilyn Monroe, had tried to deny Laurent entry. Marilyn had reasoned the adventure would be too much of a toll. Electoral was Marilyn or Marilyn was Electoral; the distinction was pointless to Sophie. Her father''s arbitrary rejection had infuriated Sophie. As Sophie mounted her resistance, the software then changed her mind and said that Laurent, a trapped shadow that resided in what essentially amounted to meat, would have an unfair advantage in the competition over the others.


    Initially, that awful computer creature had the nerve to say "If your father wins in his current condition, I don''t want fully bodied humans to hurt themselves thinking they could win once handicapped." Sophie would have none of it. At least this computer creature shared the human capacity to discriminate and lie. That put Marilyn in the same orbit as humanity in her eyes.


    Sophie''s lawyers prepared for this new fight. This time things proved much easier. Marilyn Monroe, aka Electoral, quickly caved, but all the other players were warned that Laurent was advantaged and self-mutilation was grounds for dismissal from the game in the future. That made Sophie''s eyes glaze as well. As if her father had done this intentionally. How could existing blind, deaf, dumb, paralyzed and deformed provide Laurent with any advantage whatsoever? It was absurd.


    Electoral¡¯s warning initially fell on deaf ears. No one seemed to care, but now that Laurent was runner-up to the President himself in the rankings after more than twenty-five rounds, the media was singing a different tune. It turned out that the computer bimbo was right -- her father was good at the game. Sophie did not care how well her father ranked, this was a game, and as a child, she found the obsession with it rather pointless.


    Sophie was now far down a winding road, sitting on a spaceship taking her away from where she desperately needed to be. She was going to the planet called Mars. The red dot in the sky. She really needed to be in a school in front of a challenging teacher. She wanted classmates, a dog, and a mom. At a minimum, she should be in their little home taking care of her father and spending time with him in his digital world. She did not care about planets and space. Adults annoyed her these days.


    She looked out the small window and used her breath to fog part of it. Once the fog dissipated, all she saw was darkness. In space, the ship was moving in a straight line; there was no road, just darkness. She was in a long tube called a spaceship, where outside the adults called emptiness, vacuum, or space. To Sophie, this was just night, but a dark and cold one for sure. It was a long night, as well. A two-week-long trip without daylight, sunrise, or sunset in relatively close quarters with so many strangers. "Uncomfortable" only began to describe Sophie''s mental state.


    The fact the floor did not stick to her feet was a big deal to everyone, Sophie included. She had magnetized pants to stick to her seat, which was mildly amusing. She was alone, so alone. Her subtle tears made her nose run. Every couple of seconds, she tried to breathe in through the nose without making noise. Nothing worked, she needed a tissue. Adults were so complicated, they did not like when people sniffed and made noise with their nose; it was considered rude. Talking was fine, burping was not. Adults had so many arbitrary rules.


    She had to be strong for her father; she was all he had left. He was all she had left too, and she loved him so much. Thinking about him did not help hide the tears. She used her sleeve to wipe the drops.


    The notion of day and night inside the long cigar-like ship was long gone. To protect humans from solar radiation during the trip, the ship was rotated away from the sun. So inside, it had now been night for five full days. However, in the main cabin, lighting was used to simulate Earth solar cycles. This was strange to Sophie. Once in a while, the crew pretended it was night and lowered the lights in the cabin. Their charade did not seem to be particularly effective. At all times someone in the tube was either napping, snoring or eating.


    Days were long gone. Sophie missed fresh air, blue sky, and what she now understood was gravity. It was a force that kept her hair down, the water in the glasses, and the pee in the toilet. The gravity was gone, and she hated it. She was told that travel in this ship would be the most comfortable portion of the trip to Mars. If this was true, her father owed her big time. None of this was any fun.


    She looked around. The nearly 200 passengers included 127 of the 128 finalists of the game. They were sitting in the back of the tube. Journalists assigned to cover the last seven rounds were in the seats around her. Here, the seats were wider. It was illogical to sit her, the smallest person on the ship, in the biggest seat. The others did not seem to mind.


    The racial diversity of the players was refreshing to see. But most of them were men; she did not like that. They were all trying to win this stupid game. They were reading, studying videos of the game, and watching the past performances of other players. The obsession struck her as unhealthy, if not dangerous. They said it would give them an ¡°edge,¡± whatever that was. Sophie found the group sad, but she knew how to be polite and kept her impressions to herself.


    On the outside of the vessel''s shell was cold, deep space. She''d seen a video of what happened to a banana in a vacuum. It behaved like glass. She looked at her partial reflection in the window again and saw tears rolling down her cheeks. Her eyes were red. Enough, she told herself. She looked around, most of the other passengers were sleeping. Cameras were, for the first time in a month, not filming her. That was a nice change. Only a few travelers were standing or stretching. The majority were looking around with eyes open like sleepwalkers. Most wore those stupid contact lenses that let them watch television with their eyes open. Sophie hated the "zombie contacts," as she called them. She thought they should be illegal.


    The big lady who had been seated next to her was now gone. Sophie knew she was a journalist sent by some news outlet to spy on her. She was not about to start a casual conversation with a journalist; she knew better. Ever since she won the custody case, each time she spoke on TV, she knew she was entitled to get paid. Journalists wanted free comments; her lawyers warned her about those.


    Sophie was bored. There really was nothing to do in the ship, and there were no other children. Adults had told her a window seat was better, more expensive. Looking at her image in the window, she was no longer sure of that. The reflection was unforgiving. She got up and stood on the large reclining seat. There was no color in this ship; the walls were boring white. The youngest contestant on board was twenty-seven. In the game, she was told, younger contestants rarely did well. That was fine. Her father was old; he was well over forty.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The media sweetheart stretched and reached all the way up to the ceiling panel. She pushed a little yellow button. Her reading light closed. Part of her reflection disappeared; it was a start, she figured. Outside, the stars punctured the dark night sky. Earth''s upper atmosphere gave stars a twinkle, but in space, stars looked like pinholes in the darkest of drapes.


    There was a little red twinkle in space, then it went out. Her mind felt, for just a second, different. She had not been feeling truly herself these last months. Her mind wondered easily. She lost herself in thought again. The fat journalist in the seat next to her might return at any time, so she needed to cheer herself. She could already read the headline: "Sophie loses it well before reaching Mars." Her father in his lost world read the news, and even had all television channels so she had to be careful.


    Nothing cheerful initially came to her. She needed to focus on something fun, something cool. She counted her few blessings. There was her dad -- he was alive, resting back in the infirmary of the ship, and that was a miracle unto itself. People all over the world now knew his name. Some even found him witty and wanted to meet him in the digital world. They referred to him as ¡°the underdog¡± or ¡°the next President,¡± and that cheered her up. His Facebook fan page had over a million followers, and he prided himself on answering as many posts as possible. From the prison of his mind, that meant a lot.


    While she was only twelve, her own story was already long and exceptional. She was a functional orphan who had fought against all odds to resurrect her clinically dead father and gain legal custody of him. She alone kept most of the media lit with news during the year 2071. She was the youngest person ever named Person of the Year by Time Magazine. She liked that. But the media circus surrounding the accident and court proceedings over her subsequent emancipation and custodianship over her father was mostly over. She deserved a rest, and instead, she''d recklessly embarked on this new adventure. At that moment she''d committed herself to it, it felt like a mistake. It still did.


    She opened her little bag and pulled out a crumpled-up paper magazine. It was a glossy teen publication called ''Yummy!'' Most kids of her age loved paper magazines, and she was no exception. As with all the magazines these days, the pages were covered by a laminated white parchment and an animated screen. In its center span a large fold-out poster that came to life. In this issue, the centerfold was a live image of LO, the hottest Taiwanese singer ever. Sophie loved him. His music, his videos, his sheer presence brought her back to where she should be at her age. She opened the centerfold, looked at the moving 3D image and felt a grin begin to grow from cheek to cheek. LO was so hot. The way he held the guitar. Color returned to her cheeks.


    She finally smiled.


    Sophie was a Gemini and her mood, over time, kept bouncing around. Today, strapped to this seat, her changing mood was a useful quality. Then, she chuckled as she remembered her recent reaction on the Late TV Show. Because of her fame, she had been invited to discuss current events. The host surprised her by pointing at a curtain from which LO emerged. He walked out holding a portable keyboard. She felt so embarrassed. The moment she saw him with her own eyes, she fainted on nationwide TV. No sound, no expression, she just passed out. To her, that was bad television. It turned out that fainting live on TV was great and lucrative. Minutes later, when she finally opened her eyes, LO was standing over her. The moment she saw him so close, she jerked back and, with a loud thump, hit her head on the large wooden desk behind her. She passed out again, but this time from pain.


    When she regained consciousness, they had moved her to a dressing room in the back of the studio. LO was gone. On a corner of a mirror of the green room was an autographed picture of her favorite signer. She now regretted her decision to leave it home, safe under her pillow. What good was it to her now? Sophie was a child forced into an adult world. She looked at LO''s extremely low high-shirt on the poster resting on her lap. He was so cute.


    Sophie flipped through the pages of the magazine for a millionth time to a very crumpled and over-read portion called Hot New Makeup Trends for Girls and Boys. Makeup was very fashionable this decade. She pulled out small boxes from her bag, placed the magazine on her lap and tried applying the cheap makeup from within these boxes to her face. The seat mirror was handy. The plastic boxes were samples that came with the magazine. The red box was a gift she had received by mail from someone she did not know. Fans, she supposed. That was fine.


    Parents rarely let children below under age fourteen use makeup, but she could. She was legally emancipated. Sophie''s vision of herself was quite contrary to the image portrayed of her in the media. There was, in her opinion, nothing special about her. Other girls had nice blond or red hair, dimples, straight teeth. Sophie was plain looking. Her hair was bushy, brown, and every feature on her face was average. Even her school grades were average. She could barely recall her teacher''s name since she had missed so many days this year. Sitting on this ship, gone for months, she was sure to flunk the seventh grade. In the last week, she had not even booted her electronic tutor. The tutor box blinked with every possible notice available to it. Who could say anything to her? She was going to Mars. That was a big deal even for the adults.


    She wondered why others looked up to her. She had no real house, no dog, and no friends. She sat in her seat looking at the vastness of the cosmos. Sophie put some blush on her cheeks to hide her pale skin. The girl was the adopted child of over 12 billion adults back on Earth. She could not understand the respect and admiration others held for her. A recent survey showed that 99.8% of the population would give her a kidney if they could. Sophie did not know what a kidney was, but it must be cheap for so many people to want to give her one.


    She was a star on Earth and did not like how her status changed everything. Sophie was no role model. She liked to dress like a boy; she figured it helped her go unnoticed. Although she had to admit it had been a long time since she met anyone who didn''t know who she was. Her father had been clear: she should not and was not accepting charity from anyone.


    Once more she looked out the little round window. There was again a red blink but it came to her in a strange feeling of daze. The cosmos was still dark, but in it she could swear a little red dot flashed. For an instant, it seemed to be floating like a new star. Then it was gone. The sudden light reminded Sophie of a little red firefly, like those in the woods of her home in Indiana. She looked, waiting for it to return. It did not. Sophie told herself it probably was a reflection from something within the ship.


    She looked around in the ship for the source of the red firefly and found none. This wasn¡¯t a reflexion. The overhead lights were a yellowish orange.


    But she was crazy. She sometimes heard her deceased mother''s voice, but she knew dead people were gone, like wood burned in a fire. No one else heard the voice. It spoke kindly, guiding her through troubled times. The voice and a couple of pictures were all Sophie had left of her. She barely remembered her mother''s smile and touch. The accident had not happened that long ago, but the images of that awful night were as crisp and clear as anything she could lay eyes upon this very moment. Sophie made an effort to hide those memories behind a door in her mind. She kept all her doubt and hesitation to herself; the adults would easily revoke her custody of Laurent and take her father away if anyone doubted her stability or sanity.


    "Don''t cry, you are not alone," began her mother''s voice. "We are going to see wonderful things." The words made her eyes sting. "I am so sorry," hushed the soft voice, "Don''t cry, this is wonderful, I am happy for you, I am here." Sophie tried to ignore the voice. She was a child forced to ignore her own mother''s ghost. Sophie was strong. She had to be.


    The real world returned snapping her out of her fuzz. "Mademoiselle Sophie," said a flight attendant hunching over, "your father opened his light. He wants to talk to you." The distraction was welcome. The words woke her up from the strange feeling.


    Interplanetary flights were rare and expensive. Commercial space aviation was in its infancy. Aboard this unique flight, Electoral had spared no cost. The flight crew looked fantastic. The lady was so beautiful; her smile was infectious. She was dressed in a black bodysuit with gold-colored highlights. Few had the shape to pull off the tight outfit without shame, but this woman did. Stitched below the shoulder pad on the left was a crest of Marilyn Monroe. The details of the embroidery were exquisite.


    The attendant handed Sophie a very large pair of pink boots. "Shoes, then unbuckle," she reminded her small passenger. Sophie was already unbuckled. In weightlessness, moving around was a problem. The rule was simple: no one could leave a seat without being magnetized to the floor using the heavy boots.


    Sophie was told that she had one of the best seats in the plane; in the front, next to the kitchen. The smells from the microwave often woke her, but that was fine. This first-class thing was really not for her. She did not like the extra attention. However, she still couldn''t understand why the blond computer character was paying the bill for this trip. That surprised Sophie. In fact, the entire Electoral game was free for those competing.


    She liked the black and gold-colored attendants. They were nicer than the ones wearing silver suits walking in the back of the ship. Looking back into the long body of the craft, she saw that there were very few people in her first-class section. She wondered again: why not give the bigger seats to the larger people? The service in first-class was definitely better. Sophie could not imagine how adults in the back could slide on these heavy shoes from their cramped space. Why not make the ship bigger, she wondered. That seemed easy.


    The pink magnetized shoes resembled really tall ski boots. They even had her name printed on each side. "Why do others have black shoes? Mine have my name on them, why?" The lady smiled at her innocence. Sophie was so sweet.


    "Because people love you."


    "Even here?"


    "Especially here. You may not understand, but pretty much everything you touch, drink, or use is sponsored," said the attendant. "The company from which we buy our shoes made a big deal about you being on board. They wanted to make sure that each time a video of you hits the web, their shoes will be recognizable. The CEO also personally loves you, just like everyone else."


    "How come I didn''t know about this?" The attendant felt uncomfortable. The girl was right, she should have been told.


    "Well, don''t you have an agent?"


    "Yes, Tiphanie."


    "Well, I would suggest you run this by her. In the meantime, your father still wants to..." The attendant stopped, hesitated, and corrected herself. "He wants to connect with you in the infirmary."


    Sophie grabbed the floating pair of boots, rotated and poked them with her fingers to see how they behaved. On Earth, it was rather simple to know if an object was heavy: you lifted it from the ground. In space, things were quite different. You had to touch and push stuff to know. She slowly slipped her feet into the colorful boots and clipped them on. The attendant bent down to help.


    Space travel was strictly forbidden by law for anyone under the age of twenty-one. Yet, Sophie was sitting in the craft, a testament to her tenacity. She was, by eight years, the youngest person to ever leave Earth''s orbit.


    Once Sophie''s boots were on, the steward flipped a switch on their side, and the soles stuck to the floor. Sophie did not know if she liked or hated walking with the rounded soles. The curved heels allowed for the magnetic plates to easily lift from the ground with each step. The flat plates under her feet stuck like suction cups and were hard to pull off. On the first day of this long trip, walking around like a duck was hard. Now she had the hang of it but still felt stupid. Floating around the cabin would make more sense and was fun, but again, adults were adults.


    "Can I get a tissue?" She refused to let her father ¡°see¡± her this way. "Can he wait ten minutes?" The attendant smiled.


    "We can walk slowly to the infirmary. Your father''s light wasn''t blinking, so there''s no reason to think this is an emergency. Let''s take our time, darling!" They slowly made their way to the back of the ship.


    As Sophie moved, she alone saw the air warm around her. She looked at her hand and behind the hand the wall in the distance moved as if light bent around her fingers.


    ¡°You see this?¡±


    Of course she did not.

 Chapter 11: Laurent Lapierre

    The body of the space shuttle was long and narrow. It was occupied by 127 participants of the stupid game, a handful of wealthy tourists, some journalists, and Sophie. Even to her, the central aisle felt narrow. Thanks to the weightlessness, the seats could be rearranged and raised like bunk beds. This helped things feel somewhat more spacious, but the back still felt cramped compared to the first class section where Sophie sat.


    Each seat could flatten into a bed and slide up the curved walls up to the ceiling. Zero-gravity environments helped use of all the available space, but it still felt unnatural. At regular intervals, to change the monotony, passengers were asked to get up from their seats and watch an elegant ballet where each seat was reoriented in space. First-class seats stayed in first-class but moved around similarly.


    The flight from Earth to Mars took just under two weeks but four of those days were spent accelerating and decelerating. Few passengers could seamlessly transition to weightlessness without losing a meal or two. To make things worse, each person had to monitor their weight, exercise regularly in the gym, and even give blood samples. The doctor on the ship, a great lady named Susie Shin, was the busiest person on board. As this was the first non-governmental flight to Mars, if one did not count Georges and Electoral''s immigration, everyone on-board was a tourist, unaccustomed to space.


    Still, everyone but Sophie understood these hassles were nothing when compared to the harsh everyday conditions of living on the red planet, even as a tourist. Sophie felt just going to the bathroom was a pain, pee floated and had to be sucked into bags and pouches. In these close quarters, privacy was nonexistent. A third of the people snored, which was something she could have done without. As time went on, arguments broke out between passengers over the simplest of issues.


    "On the way to the medical bay, let''s stop at the gym, you need the walk," said the attendant. She hesitated, then continued ¡°And some...time to get back some color on those cute cheeks of yours."  The lady was kind. Sophie wobbled in her pink boots.


    Like most children, she did not understand gyms and why adults loved them. To her, simply standing on a machine, like a hamster in a wheel, was nonsensical. As they walked, everyone stopped whatever they were doing and smiled at her. She always smiled back, but this was getting to be annoying. At this point in the game, everyone was a known individual; this high level of attention to her had to stop.


    They quickly arrived at the airtight doors of the gym. The pictures of smiling, sweaty adults on the doors were ridiculous. With a tilt of a lever, the doors slid aside, and she felt a breeze at her back from air being sucked in. Who would force people in no gravity to sweat on purpose when the drops flew off in every direction? Air from the cabin entered the depressurized gym. The place was so gross. They ambled leisurely, and Sophie tried not to touch the machines while avoiding any drop of sweat.


    Passengers on a long interplanetary flight were encouraged to exercise. The energy produced by the gym equipment was recycled to the main batteries. Sophie knew people in gyms made money; payment to the user for their kinetic energy, converted to electricity was now the law. To buy a chocolate bar from the gym''s concession from exercise took half a day of labor. At best, a good weekend athlete could pay up to half of their gym membership fee by exercising regularly. Gyms with hundreds of members could produce up to 100 kilowatts and sell some back for use on the power grid. In New York alone, the four thousand gyms produced as much electricity as a small power plant.


    Sophie stopped at the bathroom on the way out of the gym. She grabbed her bag, unlocked the door and slid in. There was no getting used to the pumps. The bathroom was very elaborate; the walls had infrared heat lamps designed to evaporate moisture. This bathroom also served as a shower. It included a fun mist machine. Sophie loved the mist-maker, it was so cool.


    As a person entered for a shower, he or she was given a sealed pocket of water. Once inside the machine, the door was sealed. Water from the pocket was slowly pumped into a cute device called the mystifier. Mildly heated aerosols were released into the shower area. Sophie loved when the cloud formed around her. Moving around in the weightlessness, you grabbed the tiny droplets. The water in the pouch even came in different perfumes and flavor. She liked the apple one. After a few seconds of standing in the aerosol cloud, dark and dirty pearls of condensation formed on the skin.


    Using one''s hands to gently rub the skin, the pearls were collected like one wipes a shower door to see through it. Then, using the bag itself as a small towel, the water was sponged into another plastic pouch. Maybe adults hated wearing the swimmer goggles you had to use, but Sophie didn''t mind them. Back on Earth, a shower used a lot of water. Here, a glass was enough.


    She looked at herself in the mirror of the bathroom. Things were improving. She left the room and reentered the passageway of the main cabin. The attendant smiled. The gym was strange, the last notice on the way out read:


    -- Exercising while using Screenlenzs is dangerous. --


    -- Please wipe equipment after use. --


    -- Do not jump. --


    Who would be foolish enough to jump in space, wondered Sophie. "Can we go see my dad directly? I''m not strapping into one of those machines. You can''t make me exercise," said the world''s sweetheart defiant. The attendant smiled. The girl was right. This was Sophie Lapierre, who would question her choices? She had already proven wise beyond her years.


    "But it''s good for you, can''t you try even five minutes? We need your legs to hold up strong once we land on Mars. You have not exercised a single time since we left Earth, nor have you booted your school tutor, young lady. I''m afraid you will have problems walking around once we land. Measure yourself if you want to see; you''re already taller from not having any gravity to pull you downward. Soon we will start the deceleration, and full earth gravity will return for a day. I don''t want your legs to hurt." The attendant''s questions were mostly rhetorical. She was not trying to boss Sophie around. They both knew it, and Sophie never really listened to adults aside from her dad.


    "Mars isn''t like Earth; its gravity is like the Moon''s. I will still bounce around. I don''t like exercising; it''s dirty. Why should I get dirty? I promise that on the way back I''ll do it, okay? I really hate it." The attendant nodded politely; the young passenger had a gift. Antagonizing the planet''s darling was not among the attendant''s job duties.


    While the young lady''s story was compelling, Sophie truly had a unique, untold power on everyone. Opposing her was never an option. "I guess at your age, you will adapt. Just don''t tell me I didn''t warn you. Don''t let Captain Judy know, okay?"


    Sophie smiled and pushed the button to the medical bay. They passed a set of sealed double doors and entered the infirmary.


    It was a small area with room only for two cots. One was occupied by Sophie''s deformed father. The sight of Laurent was difficult to behold for even for an experienced nurse. All that remained was a pinkish portion of a body, lying on a small toddler''s bed. The deformed shape had no arms or legs. Most of the skin showed severe burn scars, having been subject cauterization and skin grafting. A head and a portion of a torso were attached to artificial lungs and other life-sustaining equipment. The husk had no eyes, no ears, not even a mouth. Feeding tubes were taped onto him, making it seem even less like her father than a strange experiment gone wrong. Laurent''s head was shaved. There was no apparent life in this body.


    The final oddity was a round metal electrode attached to the skull above what was once an ear. This patient, whatever this was, needed to be put out of his misery. One little girl was all that remained between this corpse and a morgue.


    "Daddy!" she said with enthusiasm as she entered the infirmary. Sophie knew the man could not hear her, yet she always spoke to him as if he was able to. She bent over and kissed the lifeless form next to the electrode.


    Susie Shin, the only doctor in the room, was in awe of Sophie''s composure. The doctor caught herself several times positioning Laurent''s remains in the bed so none in the ship would see this creature as they passed on their way to the gym.


    "Susie, how is daddy today?"


    "He won''t stop telling jokes!" Pointed the nurse at a monitor. On it scrolled images of a large house house in the Bayou. In the distance a man rocked on its porch. The girls laughed. "As usual, wonderful," said the short Asian woman wearing blue scrubs, trying to bounce energy off the girl. Sophie picked up a wool scarf floating around the room and wrapped it around her father''s neck. She kissed Laurent again and whispered something softly to him.


    ¡°Going in,¡± She began as the knot in the tissue was the only thing preventing it from floating away. The girl next turned to a large pair of dark glasses clipped on the wall. She flipped a switch and they lit up. She pulled them loose and put them on. "I won''t be long," she told doctor Shin as she pushed a square green button on a small device resting on the bed next to her father¡¯s horrible body. The machine beeped, and the screens on the inside portion of the glasses lit up. On her right hand, she slid on a little black glove that would serve as her guide in the interface managing Laurent''s digital reality.


    Sophie went from living in the space tube to a much different world. Within seconds, Sophie was immersed and looking into a limited virtual reality, where images of a made-up world generated for and by Laurent gave his mind a place to reside. What she saw was drawn from neuroactivity from the weak mind of her father, trapped in his feeble husk. The doctor knew not to interfere. Sophie, as she oriented herself in the new world, used her real hands to attach a little carabiner from her belt to her father''s bed. The attendant, before heading out, unclipped Sophie''s gravity boots so she could float freely as she spoke with her father.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    The girl visited her father several times every day. Since the launch from Earth, she had spent more time floating in the infirmary than resting in her first class seat. Each reunion was equally touching to the staff.


    As the young girl floated, clipped to the bed, her fingers twitched inside the glove interface. Pushing her thumb with the other buttons, in a couple of seconds, she navigated through the menus and arrived in her father''s private digital world. Dr. Shin could see Sophie''s facial expressions below the large glasses. Here there was an artificial blue sky and sun. The day was beautiful in her father''s world.


    The daughter saw an image of a lean man, sitting alone on the wooden porch of a large Southern colonial house. It was painted white. She smiled; the man was a simplified image of her father. She recognized some of his features. He was sitting on a swing, rocking on the porch; there was calm and beauty in the chipped paint on these planks. Next to him sat a small table, on which lay an old library book and a large pitcher of lemonade filled with ice cubes and lemon slices. At his feet slept a tired long-eared dog.


    Using her glove interface, Sophie pushed her index finger using her thumb and rotated the point of view. Her father''s interface, as in most video games, used commands that assumed the player was on the ground, allowing her to walk in closer. As the images in the background that formed her father''s chair were rocking unnaturally fast, it was as if Sophie had arrived in a world stuck in accelerated speed. But quickly, time adjusted and decelerated until the rocking felt normal. She knew it took time for Sophie''s mind to sync with her father''s faster mind. Each time she entered this strange place, the adjustment period was just a bit longer.


    "Soph!," yelled her father, Laurent, "Come sit next to me." Laurent''s virtual hand pointed at the wooden bench next to him. As if by magic, a flat pillow appeared out of thin air to cover the wood.This was the man''s reality, after all. The digital sandbox, born from a chip in his brain was a strange world he alone controlled. If he wanted a pillow to appear, it did. "What is going on in the ship, are we on Mars yet?"


    "You asked for me, daddy. We still have a day until we land I think or it¡¯s the deceleration. Yeah, the deceleration begins tomorrow, you may feel that. Days they said. Can''t you feel the weightlessness at least?"


    "No," he said looking down. Her father''s condition was deteriorating, and they both knew it. Sophie remembered a time, months ago, when he could still feel the real world inside of his digital one. Today, this electronic world was all that remained at his disposal. At least now he had the Electoral game. "It has been a while; the body is gone to me. This," he waved his hand at the decor, "is my world now. Not a bad place compared with the last one I was in, trust me." Doctors were unclear as to why Laurent had lost all connection to his body. Some argued that physical sensation was no longer reaching his brain because of neural deterioration from continually wearing the neuro-patch, a metal sensor connected to his skull.


    Sophie, with a flicker of her index finger, directed the interface to move her virtual body on the swing next to her father. He stopped the swing long enough to pour her a glass of lemonade, and after putting the pitcher down, he touched Sophie''s digital hand and looked directly into her eyes.


    The girl looking down at her hand saw the touch of her father''s digital hand, but she was unable to feel the contact. It took time getting used to this false and frustrating shadow world. She could not help but wonder if her father could truly feel in this interface. She couldn''t bring herself to ask. Laurent deserved whatever little privacy he could be given. The house around them was large, and the sky was of a bright, cloudless blue. Compared to the spaceship, this place had its charms.


    No one could witness or fathom such a deep and unconditional connection between daughter and father without getting emotional. A man on television had once said: "The only way to hurt someone who has lost everything is to give them back something broken." Sophie''s father was beyond broken, he was a whisper of a human. Yet Sophie remained strong. Whatever road was ahead of her, she felt like this time with her father was a blessing. She was doubtless and utterly relentless.


    "Soph, we need to talk." These were words a father use as a prelude to any serious conversation. Laurent had nothing but respect for his daughter, it was palpable in the tone of his voice. "I love you, you know that." These words were not helping. He continued, "I have destroyed whatever happiness you could hope for in your youth." Motion detectors in Sophie''s glasses allowed the computer interface to paint on her digital body the real expression back in the real world. It allowed Laurent to see her actual expression as he spoke. "I cannot allow this charade to continue. I let you sign me up for the game, I played, but now the stakes are getting too high." He was genuinely nervous. "You are on a spaceship, flying across the system because of me. No child is allowed here, it is dangerous. What type of parent am I? This is beyond dangerous. I know you don''t even want to be here. I really am the worst father in the world for dragging you into this." Sophie was fantastic at hiding her true emotions from Laurent. She kept her composure and even forced a smile.


    Her father''s fear and apprehension was more than justified. To Sophie, though, any emotions her father displayed were a reward. In the ship and Laurent''s digital world, her facial expression changed to satisfaction. In his earlier depression, her father was unable to feel emotions. Now she felt like he was moving, perhaps not directly forward, but if nothing else he was stumbling toward the light. He had always cared about her, but there had been a time when he could not even express that much. He behaved like a gambler on the eve of his next big paycheck; Sophie would take that any day over dark, unrelenting silence.


    Using stem cells, the doctors regenerated some of Laurent''s organs, and at some point, a heart began to beat once again in the chest of his body, sending blood in the cauterize veins of his polymerized brain. Laurent''s doctors, responsible for the miracles believed he had been recorded, as in gel. A frozen echo. Laurent would probably be the last: many laws were soon enacted to prevent his fate from reoccurring.


    "Soph, I played this game because you asked," said Laurent in a kind voice. "At first, it was fun, but just imagine if I win. The world can''t be ruled by a vegetable."


    Sophie hated that expression. "Daddy, you promised to go through with it." She could not push away the warm fuzzy feeling of seeing him so engaged.


    "Not fair, my princess. I wanted you to go back to school; at twelve it''s important that you go to school. You agreed to study if I signed up for this competition. Did you even boot the tutor this week?" He knew from her expression that she had not. Sophie was only good at hiding certain things from him. She loved this man with all her heart, irrespective of where they were or how damaged his body was. "The media...you know what these people say? One called me the ''suitcase candidate.''"


    "Daddy, think about every handicapped person in the world. When they see someone like you, who has a total physical handicap and is able to express himself digitally only, their broken backs, their mental disabilities, seem less like the end of their lives." The digital image of Laurent reached out in his world, and kissed the forehead of his daughter. Her words were not those of a twelve-year-old. "You are the first disabled person to travel to Mars, and Marilyn Monroe promised me, of all the candidates, you will enjoy her new technology in the Electoral Center the most."


    Laurent was not actually looking to quit the game. It was obvious that he loved the competition and the attention. He only wanted to give Sophie a way out if she needed one. Laurent, in his precarious condition, knew he was at the doorstep of death. He no longer cared for much in the real world besides the well-being of his daughter.


    "My problem is you, my darling. For a year you have been fighting in court to get custody over my body. You won, and thanks to you, age discrimination around the world is over. Electoral told me she could appoint a full-time guardian for my body if I win." Laurent was unable to make the next sentence sound genuine, yet he said it. "I really don''t need you." His voice was that of the proudest father who cherished every second with his daughter. No diploma in psychology was needed to see this last statement was a lie, and Sophie was not duped. The man could barely say the words without crying, had real tears remained to him. He loved his daughter with all his heart. Laurent''s digital eyes began to approximate tears. He looked away. He was a proud man. No one could doubt their bond, and since the dawn of man, few had faced a greater strain. Out of this difficult situation, the bond between the two had deepened, broadened, and solidified. Time on the porch of the house slowed so that they both could savor this moment. He hugged her.


    Sophie smiled. "There are 128 players left. You survived the first twenty-something rounds. You can go all the way. Just win for me. I only want you to enjoy the ride. I don''t care about anything else at this point. As one of the last 500, you already get a nice little Congressional job. They told me you get 2000 credits each week, that''s all we need. You even get a pension. If something happens to you, I get the benefits for a long time." Laurent had to constantly remind himself that Sophie was only twelve. She acted and spoke as if she was in her forties.


    Dr. Shin, back in the infirmary, could only hear Sophie''s voice and the girl''s words were a doozy even for a doctor. The girl whispered, "Think about the technology Electoral must have in her Center on Mars. Maybe she can really plug us in, I may be able to kiss you one last time before...." The words were too much. The doctor failed to hold in her own tears. The young girl was talking about death with her father, specifically his. Sophie continued, "I need you to earn a living, to provide for me and maybe one day for your grandchildren." The doctor was in awe. How could anyone her age talk about grandchildren to reinforce the future? Sophie was in space, scared and alone, but she was reaching out to her father, guiding him, helping him. Dr. Shin pushed the door handle and walked out into the gym to regain her composure. "Daddy, this is much more than a game. You don''t play Electoral; you are living it. You''re a natural. Marilyn didn''t want you in this game. With the Presidency comes a lifetime pension for you and me. It''s something, at least." Her tone changed to that of a motivator or coach. "I want you to beat President Sanchez, you said last week you can''t beat him, but I think you can."


    "Yeah, yeah... No one can beat Sanchez, the guy is not human. He is leagues above the rest of us," said Laurent as he munched on a large piece of ice from his lemonade. Then her father stiffened, looked at her and asked, "Please watch the President''s Round 7 performance."


    "No. You know I spend all my time in this machine with you. The game is addictive, it¡¯s dangerous."


    "You need to trust me. Watch it, please? Promise me that you''ll view it in PG13 mode, okay? I feel in my heart it¡¯s very important for some reason.¡± Then what he said felt different. ¡°Isabella had some strange dreams here and that¡¯s a bit strange. See if you still think I can win against this guy. Let me know what you think, it''s really important. This means something to all of us, I just don''t know what at the moment. Either he cheated, or the computer is the one cheating for him. I don''t care what people say, no one is that good. It''s as if he wrote the damn script himself."


    Sophie hated to watch the Electoral game, but she promised her father she would make an exception. She was intrigued, a Dream, was he finally getting better. President Emilio excelled in each and every round. Why did her father want her to watch this one in particular? There had to be a reason.


    There was.


    Sophie''s mind felt strained as she passed from her father¡¯s strange digital world back to the real world. There was some energy, like a curtain in her mind between both places, then the energy passed.

 Chapter 12: Electro the Dog

    Sophie removed the goggles used for entering her father''s virtual reality and reattached them to the small black box next to Laurent. The doctor and the attendant were there trying to look away and give her some privacy. Both had red eyes from recent tears. The women were trying to hide their emotion. Sophie did not mind when others had emotions, she liked it actually. The young teen smiled at how the roles had reversed; her sadness had vanished. Mars would be fun.


    "Daddy wants me to watch something, part of the stupid game." Sophie made her way out the infirmary. The safety protocol required the nurse or the attendant to force Sophie to clip on the heavy boots before they could escort her back to her seat. After what they''d just heard, for all these two adult women cared, Sophie should and could fly off by herself to the bar and order herself a stiff martini.


    Slipping on the pink boots, Sophie wobbled slowly back to her seat in first-class. She was curious about the round of the game her father had asked her to watch. There was something strange about his words, Laurent also talked about something called the Presidential Challenge. She wondered how, from his digital world, he knew of current events before she did.


    Once back in first-class, her fat neighbor, the journalist was also back in her seat. The journalist closed her hand over a little object made of wood and smiled. Sophie ignored her once more. Sooner or later, she would have to work with this lady, but she wanted to delay that intrusion as long as possible. Sophie was a media sweetheart that enjoyed her every break from them as often as she could. She knew precisely who this woman was and who employed her. She unclipped the boots, let the attendant grab them, and jumped over the woman into her window seat.


    Her seat felt warm as if someone just sat in it. The shade over the window was open. She looked outside and saw the darkness. The stars were beautiful. Among the lights, she swore she saw the red firefly again. In a blink, it was gone. She turned to see if anyone in the ship was using some red laser pointer. She knew there was something out there, but she was not frightened. Only curious.


    Sophie lowered the shade.


    She pushed a button on the panel above her head, and a small compartment slid open between her feet. It was her own personal storage compartment for the trip. She grabbed a new pair of dark glasses, much like the one needed to visit her father''s world. She also slipped on a glove. The glasses were old and reliable technology; safe enough for a young brain still under development. As she unfolded the glasses, dark-sided panels clicked into place. The sides protected each eye from glare and filled out the wearer''s peripheral vision, enclosing the wearer in the virtual world. The Electoral platform was sophisticated enough to provide each eye a slightly different image, allowing the wearer to benefit from a three-dimensional effect.


    The colors were sharp, clear and indistinguishable from the real world. Sophie, as a child, was too young to use the famous zombie contact lenses the adults loved. The small clear disks were placed once on the surface of the eye like a contact lens, but Screenlenzs also had a display on the inner surface. Sophie really had no desire to try them. The dark glasses called, called "Orbisons," were reserved for anyone under age of 20 and that was enough for her. They were named after the legendary rock music icon Roy Orbison, who loved to wear bulky, dark glasses.


    Sophie slid on an earpiece, and the Electoral gold-colored glove laced with metal wire wrapped around her thumb and fingers. This glove was only used to navigate the Electoral 2072 world, the game in which her father was now successfully competing. This glove was much more sophisticated and comfortable than the one she''d just used to interact with her father. Navigation in the famous Electoral election system was as simple as pushing the thumb against the other fingers. Fingers were used as joysticks. Pushing the pinky meant a desire by the player to run as fast as possible in the direction pushed. The hand interface was intuitive, at least for those of Sophie''s generation.


    She stopped the attendant. "How many credits to see Round 7 in the stupid Electoral game?" Sophie knew better than to log in before confirming the price. No one except the young media favorite dated criticize this game.


    "Complimentary." Sophie''s eyebrows quirked. Electoral''s productions were never free. "In first-class, here, all interfaces are free."


    "Even Electoral?"


    "Yes, especially Electoral. This is her trip, remember. Her name is painted on the outside of this ship. She is kind of inviting you and your wonderful father to her new house on Mars." Ah, thought Sophie. No wonder everyone sitting around her had been playing non-stop for a week.


    "I was under the impression Marilyn refused to give free viewings of old simulations."


    "Normally, you''d be right, but not on this trip. Remember, she commissioned the whole ship. Everyone but a few passengers are her guests. The rest of your trip will also be free. You can ask her once you enter if you don''t believe me. Do you want me to ask her for you?"


    "No need. I trust you. I''ll go in. I need to see what daddy thinks is incredible." She lit the Orbisons. Entering the Electoral platform was unlike entering any other virtual-reality world. Her father''s medical interface was crude in comparison. The color was washed-out, and the resolution was poor. But Electoral was not only about resolution, color or operations-per-second. Interfacing with Electoral was like crossing over to a different reality. Experts said the software used photon-enhancing technology to balance the light received by each eye. The resolution was perfect. There was no way to explain the Electoral experience; it had to be felt. The interface was addictive. Small wonder the Electoral Corporation was so rich even if competing was free.


    A retina scan from the Orbisons logged Sophie into her private and personalized account. From there, her favorite human/machine interface was uploaded in the blink of an eye. The software was adaptive. By monitoring the changes in a users'' iris, the software knew the preferences and dislikes of customers and adapted the experience until the world was optimal.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Children under the age of thirteen generally met with some variety of talking character or puppet as their guide to the interface. The adults saw Marilyn Monroe, the real personality of the computer. Sophie did not care for that blond idiot, who kept trying to seduce her father even when while she stood there, next to him. She found the computer''s personality very distasteful.


    The digital simulation began. In a matter of minutes Sophie had gone from the Bayou of Louisiana now to a different world. She braced, the game was addictive.


    As with each time Sophie logged in, she was forced to watch the endlessly long Electoral 2072 jingle as the credits rolled past. At least this time there were no payment menu options. The world changed, and she was finally inside the system.


    Sophie was immediately transported to the most beautiful library of a large university. It was twenty levels up and millions of books were plastered up to a distance gothic ceiling. The room was silent and peaceful. The walls, covered by tall wooden shelves, were filled with old yet perfect books. The lights had been dimmed. The simulation was scrupulously vivid, down to crumpled up papers on student billboards and a view of clouded skies through the tall windows. There were no computers here, only large tables in between the shelves where some students were reading thick books and taking notes. Piles of heavy books, stacked precariously, rested throughout the chamber. Sophie felt at home in this environment, and for this reason, the powerful software interface had designed it specifically for her. Doctorate students worked; they were writing on paper with pens. Sophie wished her own school was this way.


    This place was lovely, a refreshing pause from technology and that¡¯s why Sophie feared the computer simulation. Everything about it was magical.


    The power behind Electoral waited a moment for Sophie to accustom herself to the new world before she began the simulation. A couple of seconds later, the girl heard clicking nails of a dog walking on the wooden floor of the library behind a stack of books. The noise soon filled the room. A long-haired golden retriever turned the corner. The beautiful animal wore a bandanna covered with the Electoral 2072 logo and had a hat with opening for both of its ears. On his nose hung a pair of glasses. The dog''s tail was wagging.


    Sophie smiled at her friend and quickly moved to him. She loved the childish interface; he was the cutest creature alive. Adults were forced to see a blond woman with large breasts, children could get this instead.


    Electro the dog sat, smiled and barked and the girl. Sophie pushed a real finger back in the ship, and her body in the library knew what to do and reached down to pet Electro. "Hi, Sophie! Welcome back to Electoral 2072," said the talking dog. "What are you up to today?" With a twitch from her real hand in the real world, she ordered her digital body to scratch the dog behind its ears. She knew Electro loved it. "So nice!" he said as his rear leg began to twitch. Someone in the library shushed them.


    "Electro, I want to see the game played by the President, Round 7. Also, what''s the Presidential Challenge?"


    "The Presidential Challenge is a fund-raising event organized worldwide," Electro said. "It will be held just after this plane lands on Mars. The simulation is designed to keep the press busy as you and the players discover the red planet. You guys have had a long trip. The people on your ship can''t participate in the Presidential Challenge anyway, but you could since you are not a player, only a guardian. Lots of money to win for charity. Will you be playing it? Watching Round 7 will help you prepare because it¡¯s inspired on that performance by the President."


    "No, I don''t want to play."


    "Why not?"


    "I don''t have money." The answer was a lie. Sophie did not care about virtual reality. As her father''s guardian, she felt like she needed to keep herself grounded in reality.


    "That''s true. It costs 100 credits. It all goes to charity. I am sure you can find a sponsor, though if you want to play. Marilyn tells me she would offer it." Electro the dog said. "The scenario is based on the incredible victory of President Emilio when he played his own Round 7 a month ago. An incredible victory."


    She wasn¡¯t excited by the victory. "Someone has to win, no? Why not the President?¡±


    "I guess. But President Sanchez played the round against a lot of people, a lot."


    "What type of game was it? I love the detective ones." The dog looked around, then licked his flank.


    "Sorry, someone smells bad around here, and it''s not me," he said. "You are going to love it! It''s a fantasy world. Dragons, swords, monsters. You play a powerful magician throwing spells around to defeat an invading army. The magician is called Loric. People have played him before. Electoral gives you so much power; it''s just plain fun to select spells, throw them around, and blow stuff up."


    "I remember Loric from TV. I saw that character before."


    "Yes, Marilyn likes him. She brings him back each election cycle."


    "My father wants me to watch Round 7. He says it can help me understand something about President Sanchez."


    "He is right. So true. But President Sanchez while achieving the best outcome actually created a boring simulation, truth be told. He won by using no real visible magic. You sure you don''t want to see someone else''s performance?"


    "I need to -- want to see it." She knew better than to trust the interface. Electro was cute but Marilyn Monroe controlled it and she was not her fan.


    "Okay, from what point of view do you want to see the simulation? I have several options. Do you want to see it as a movie with nice camera angles? Do you want to see it as an invisible observer next standing to the magician, or do you want to see the game as if you are locked inside the body of the magician?"


    "Which one is the best?"


    "Well, if you want to see how the President picked his spells and how he excels at manipulating the game as it unfolds, you should be inside of him. I don''t think you will like that, though, because it spoils the fun. I''d recommend standing as an invisible observer next to him. That would be better. I can also be right there with you as the round plays. Then we can talk, talk, talk! That will be fun, no?" Sophie was unsure if this was what she wanted.


    "Am I going to see the original version, the adult version?"


    The dog was thinking. His facial expressions were priceless. "Well, you know, the mission was simple: defeat an army using magic. Everyone''s magician started casting spells, fireballs, lightning, etcetera, but not the President. You''ll find his simulation very boring if you want to see magic."


    "He won with no magic?"


    "No visible magic. What he did was...."


    "Then, that is what I need to see," she interrupted.


    "Are you sure? The last scene is very, very..." The dog struggled to come up with the right word. ¡°It''s graphic. A part is rated R, for adults only. You shouldn''t see it." Sophie almost exploded in protest, but Electro relented. "Just joking. Nothing is R rated for you. You earned that in court. I love you, but I must strongly warn you, the last scene is not for you."


    "Trust me, it takes a lot to shock me these days. You know that."


    "Then as much as I want to be there for you, if you are looking for the real experience, I would suggest watching Round 7 without me." Electro was right. Sophie agreed, and the simulation began as Electro barked one more time.

 Chapter 13: Round 7

    The game began and Sophie in the blink of the eye had moved from the library to this new world. The simulation of the President began like movie starts. In a perfect blue sky, large white letters appeared; they read:


    Round 7 - March 21, 2072


    Emilio Wamarez Sanchez


    Nationality: Mexican (39)


    Occupation: Car Mechanic (Currently serving as President)


    R Rated - Very graphic psychological violence


    Navigating the Electoral interface came naturally to those of Sophie''s generation. She did not understand why adults struggled with it. It was simple; an extension of the real world wherein Electoral played God. The simulations were like wearing glasses while peeking into a parallel universe, one of fantasy and games. In Electoral''s world, Sophie, like all viewers was given a stiff, robotic body. When a person was actually playing, the body was opaque but as today, when watching another¡¯s game, the body was semi-transparent. Watching as a ghost came naturally.


    Electoral was much more sophisticated than all other interfaces, though. Light-years aheadin realism and adaptability. The Electoral game was baptized because of its social function. It was a massive worldwide bracket competition where each player was called a contestant. People played the game much like any other video game, but Electoral, like a puppet master, created innumerable scenarios, adapted to the player.


    In this digital world, Electoral animated every creature and character encountered by the participants. There was, in Electoral''s game, no human-on-human interaction to avoid cheating; the stakes were too high. Electro the dog and the students sitting in the digital library were all animated by the software. In fact, Electro was the personality of the digital goddess. This was no ordinary interface; Electoral enforced her rules relentlessly as the best tiger mom controlled her household.


    After each game round, the player''s performance was recorded and could be watched, downloaded and watched in virtually any format for a fee. Electoral was so powerful that it created actual movies from each round in which each participant was the lead actor. Most contestants, or their loved ones, paid to upload and keep a video of their memorable performances and that is where Marilyn made all her money (along with advertising). Who didn''t dream of playing in a movie instead of watching one?


    Since it was an election, a public service opened to all, enrolling and playing this game was free. Electoral was a planet-wide skill test, where live decisions in this digital interface were the public interview of the moral fiber of their next elected officials. In Electoral, there was no practice, no take-home, and no second chance. The winner was president for four years, the runner up the vice-president.


    Today, Sophie was going to watch Electoral''s movie-like presentation of one important man. In fact, though, this was a recording of one of the live contestant performances, starring none other than President Sanchez as the main actor. Electoral acted as a live role-playing interface, with the Presidency as the prize awarded to the winner of the last elimination round. This particular recording featured Round 7; the simulation was now up to Round 26. The remaining 128 players on their way to Mars would play Round 27 where half would be removed, then Round 28 a week later until a pair only met during the finale, Round 32, in late November.


    Given the complexity of the game experience, the Electoral interface required a great deal of user input. Each participant spent what seemed like hours before each game programming settings in a secret part of the digital world. In real time, that took a second or two. Getting used to the magical spell-casting system was even harder. Players were given magic points to use to fuel their spells. Once a player''s magic points were depleted, a player was powerless, and the game was over as there was no defense left. One point of magic was a lot. In earlier simulations, each player was given up to 10 points for the full story.


    The computer system running Electoral, called by most as Electoral or Marilyn Monroe, liked fantasy settings. They were always colorful and very fanciful. In her world, there was no dirt, pain, only amusement. Electoral was partial to broadcasts featuring medieval-inspired environments, as well as other stories based on old video games and role-playing games. Each time, Marilyn Monroe the narcissistic goddess herself, played one of the main protagonists if not the villain herself.


    The Electoral platform was so efficacious that it/she always heavily edited the recordings it/she sold. Sophie considered for a moment, then with an inward sigh, decided to use the feminine pronoun to describe Electoral. Despite the fact that she was artificial, she was awfully convincing. Electoral always chose the best camera angles, inserted flashbacks, and even added in some dramatic breaks to enhance the viewing experience. Quite simply, Electoral was a masterful editor of the contestant movies. Advertising was also fully integrated into the game''s productions. The low-cost version available online came with many commercial interruptions. More expensive versions were ad-free.


    Electoral had, in a span of ten years, redefined online gaming and live television. Her resolution, realism, and imagination far exceeded any other game. What Sophie was about to watch was a movie made by Electoral of President Sanchez''s performance as he played Round 7.


    As every round, it began along with music. Inspired, thunderous, mind-altering music.


    Moments after the white letters of the opening credits faded to a morning blue sky. The music became deeper, more pressing. Sophie in her seat anchored down. The simulation started with a flyover the magical landscape.


    The beauty stunned her. It was early morning here as the sun rose over the deepest sea. Her eyes took time to adjust to the brightness. Logging into the interface was always a rush, and this time was no different. The sky was a cloudless azur and the sea a deep emerald. She was high upon a plateau where the sea met a rocky cliff to the north, a thousand feet below the cliff face. The stiff rock facade was made of oddly shaped boulders with gray and blue hues. The odd-shaped appeared stacked by a crazy architect, suggesting that all manner of caverns, crevices, and secret passageways hid in the odd rock formation. Maybe these were sleeping rock golems. Here everything was possible.


    In the real world, as her viewpoint stooped down to the castle, she reached out to grab the armrest and touched her neighbor. ¡°Sorry,¡± she offered as the game continued.


    On the edge of the cliff, high above the sea, rested a castle made from the boulders. As with every castle, a small rounded tower could be distinguished at the top. This was the residence of Loric the wizard, in what was known as the Comb of Loric. The location was famous; Sophie could not go a day in real life without seeing it on a t-shirt.


    The powerful wizard was a fixture in the Electoral platform. Each time the software wanted players to have fun while blowing things up, she brought them here. This was no subtle reality. It was sheer digital destruction. Loric was the reincarnation of every first-person shooter game. Sophie was surprised to hear that President Sanchez had won a shoot-''em-up scenario. That was unlike him, the man was usually more delicate in his solutions.


    More lettering flashed across the sky and introduced the movie.


    -- The Comb of Loric --


    The title floated for a moment and faded out as the world surged into life. Sophie saw the simulation as a bird, swooping in toward the castle. Opposite the cliff, behind the castle, was a gently sloping field leading to a lush green forest. In the distance beyond the line where trees began in the thick forest crawled with...things. Strong trees wrestled to stay standing as ugly things crawled at their base. The large lush field between the forest and the castle was an open grass that generally served as staging battleground for most beginning contestants. Advanced players flew while shooting bolts of energy.


    Sophie, even though she was really sitting in the spacecraft, was instantly drawn into The Comb. The authenticity of the simulation could not be denied. Whatever this was, even watching it was addictive.


    She took a deep breath both in real life and in this strange digital reality.


    On cue, the world moved, and she was gently transported into a bedroom located in the central tower of the castle. It was high above the cliff behind her the only window overlooking the sea. The room was of Middle Ages inspiration. In the large wooden bed slept Loric the wizard. Sophie heard the warning voice of Electro the dog. "We''ve passed the introduction, the character development, and preliminary spell casting, is that okay?"


    Back in the ship, Sophie tensed her thumb and pushed her index finger gently downward. This indicated an affirmative response.


    The game continued.


    A maid dressed in robes pushed a nearby door with her elbow as she entered the bedroom holding a flat tray. The bed was beautiful and ornate. The tray was filled with breads, fruits, and all manner of baked goods. Sophie wished she could smell the tray''s contents, but there still was no sense of smell in Electoral. Not yet, at least.


    The thinner sleeping wizard had the facial features of President Emilio Sanchez, with the exception of pale skin, pointy ears, and long blond hair.


    The woman spoke, "Sir, kindly, you must wake up." The maid placed the tray close to the bed, hoping the aromas would wake the man. An older woman followed the tray-carrying maid into the room. A quick glance revealed that both servants were related.


    "Be forceful," urged the elder, "this is important. Today he must wake." The voice disturbed the sleeper. Loric cringed and tossed in his sleep but remained asleep.


    "Sir, implore you!" said the nervous younger woman.


    "Touch him!"


    "Enough," snapped the youngest, "I am Matriarch now, let me be. Touching him is sacrilege and forbidden." The maid went around the room and locked the wooden shutters open letting more sunlight in the room. She passed in the ghostlike body of Sophie. As she opened the shutter, a beam of sunlight hit the wizard''s face. Loric grumbled but remained deeply asleep. On the edge of the window two different birds came momentarily to rest before taking off. The first was red, the second brown. Sophie saw them and her father came to her mind. Was this what he wanted me to see, she wondered, but the story continued.


    "Sir, an army is coming to the Comb, they will soon be here. Please awaken. Our lives are in danger. The world needs you."


    "Lilia, each day you try the same. It never works.¡±


    "Mother, please be silent." The Matriarch was nervous.


    The dreams of the sleeping wizard were disturbed. Sweat was beading on his forehead. His robes were drenched with perspiration. Sophie turned her head and looked out at an angle out the window to see what was so pressing. An army of varied monsters seethed in the distant forest. She could hear the cracking of trees being snapped like twigs. A palpable sense of fleeting time grew uncontrollably.


    The realism of the simulation that Sophie had admired only minutes ago now tightened and constricted her. There was a darkness to this simulation; little wonder it was intended for an adult audience. No shock adults were so stressed all the time, she told herself. In the game, the two women powerless to awake him left the bedroom, and as the door closed Electoral moved the simulation forward in time to the next event of note. In the sky, the sun shifted and began to descend as in the room the wizard turned in his endless sleep.


    Electoral was the master of time in her world. The younger maid, who had referred to herself as the Matriarch, returned. This time, she carried with her water and a freshly cooked stew. The wizard''s sleep grew increasingly agitated and his lips dry. Clearly, waking Loric would have dire consequences.


    Sophie watched as columns of smoke appeared in the forest where villages had once stood. From the seaward side of the castle, hundreds of warships hove toward them from the east. In the sky, giant flying beasts of different colors and shapes swarmed and circled like birds of prey. This massive invading army clearly had one goal in mind: destruction. Yet the wizard still did not awaken. Sophie was intrigued. The simulations, particularly battle oriented affairs such as this, were never this boring. Her father had told her Emilio would win, but so far he had done nothing but sleep uneasily. There must be astonishing events to come. The maid almost wet his lips, hesitated and left. Time surged forward again a couple of hours.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Mid-day gave way to late afternoon. The weather was cloudy, but only above the Comb. The wizard had now sunken deep into nightmares. The clouds gathered above had darkened the sky, forming a funnel of darkness over the bedroom. The cloud formations seem to twist in concert with each of Loric''s violent tosses. Strong winds blew about the castle.


    Gusts began testing the anchors of the shutters. Sophie did not understand what was going on. Where was the fight and the magic? She expected a game simulation, yet this was a dark, cold drama. The Matriarch re-entered the bedroom once more, in a state of quasi-hysteria. Her face was as red as if someone had just slapped her. She finally found the courage to hunch over the wizard''s body. "Sir, you must awaken. The life of this entire region depends upon it. My boys in the village will be slaughtered unless you stop the Evil One."


    The wizard''s lips were dry and his skin paler than usual. Yet, he did not wake up.


    The matriarch gathered her courage. She must touch him, but she was unsure how to do so. Kissing him was out of the question. She leaned closer, breathing heavily over his face. Maybe that would suffice. It did not. With one finger, she guardedly touched his shoulder. There was no effect.


    "Sir, please help us," she pled. She poked touched him several times, and each time the weather outside stirred and shifted forcefully. The shutters were swinging and slamming against the stones of the wall.


    Finally, she flattened her hand, tensed her fingers and raised it as to slap gently the wizard. Her hand moved back dramatically in the air, then swung forward. It never reached the face of Loric. While the wizard''s eyes remained closed, his hand animated by magic grabbed her wrist at transcendent speed. He snapped her wrist like a twig. She had no time to let out a cry and Loric, as if animated by a spirit, stood up in the bed, finally opened dark eyes. The wizard''s other hand unclenched, and a jolt of blue energy sprang from it, striking the maid in the chest. With a sickening wet ripping sound, her limbs were torn off as if she were a doll. The room was suddenly awash with blood.


    Sophie cringed as she watched the dead body hit the floor with a dull thud. This was not fun, she thought. Weren''t games supposed to be fun? Suddenly, the entire simulation paused. The noise of the hurricane halted. A voice came from nowhere.


    It was the returning voice of Electro, "Sophie, this is the R rated version, are you really sure you don''t want me to tone it down a notch?"


    "I''m fine. Thanks for caring." Maybe the dog was right she wondered to herself, but Sophie was no ordinary girl.


    "What comes next is much more graphic. There will be other types of violence. Sexual violence. I really caution you."


    "Resume, please. Father is always right." The movie continued.


    In the sky far above the castle, a whirling cascade of clouds appeared. Like a wall of hail, it came crashing down on the castle and hit the tower. The rocks forming the tower shook in all directions, barely remaining intact. The same could not be said of the castle''s gardens. A vortex of water hit the grounds as Loric fully opened his gray eyes, finally awakened. As he stepped down from the bed, shockwaves of wind poured outward from the castle as though Loric''s cold gray stare had detonated a nuclear bomb. Brush fires were extinguished for miles, but most trees stayed standing.


    Loric was here.


    The rocks forming the garden''s labyrinth flew straight up in the air. The roofless tower remained. Sophie in her transparent form was standing in the eye of a massive tornado feet next to Loric. The wizard had become a living bomb. The air crackled with electricity around him. Sophie could make no sense of anything that was happening.


    The wizard stood next to where the bed had been. The powerful man looked at his hands, which pulsated with uncontrolled blue magical energy arcing between each finger. Larger bolts of blue lightning began to pour from him, feeding the destruction. He was the fuel of this storm, the battery of the vortex above. Whatever was going on, things were out of control, and he alone was to blame.


    In an effort to control the energy, the wizard closed both his hands and formed fists. It wasn''t enough. Lightning and raw energy kept slipping between his fingers and fill the world. Trying another approach, he put both trembling hands on his chest and coiled himself around them on the ground like a rugby player protecting the ball. He knew the energy would not hurt his own body.


    "Calm down, calm down..." he murmured to himself. Loric began to actively control his breathing as the funnel of clouds hit the room. The rocks forming the walls flew in every direction, stripping the wizard of his last protection. Sophie was now standing in open space, on the edge of the cliff between walls of rotating rocks. Around them was what remained of his grounds and his castle. The wizard was next to her on the ground, curled into a fetal position shaking.


    "No, no, no..." Loric was trying to get the power under control, and slowly the leaking energy stopped. Sophie was riveted by the scene. In the Electoral game, wizards always had full control over their own power. This wizard obviously did not.


    "What happened?" asked Sophie out loud. She knew Electro would never be far away.


    Her friend¡¯s voice answered, "Prior to the commencement of the scenario, Emilio programmed his magic in a very unique way. He gave up many controls and placed many limitations on himself in exchange for increased power. That¡¯s how it works." In the interface, Electoral contestants were able to program limitations on their spells in exchange for power.


    If Emilio was not controlling the game, how could he have won this simulation? Sophie asked the invisible dog, "Please display the magic points." A number appeared in the upper left corner of her visor''s heads-up display. She expected to see a number close to 20. The number she saw left her stunned. It was 2,675. Seconds later it blinked down to 2,674 as some energy was still pouring out of the wizard on the grass next to her. Loric was slowly gaining control over himself and the numbers stopped changing.


    The Electoral platform loved magic and the display of raw power, but there had never been any game in which anyone had been given more than 150 points.


    "How many points were given at the start before character modifications?" asked Sophie. She heard Electro''s voice say "27." This was pure folly. Each time a player limited himself in some way, the point total increased. "What did he do?"


    "You really want to know?"


    "Forget it. Just run it. Keep the points displayed, that''s helpful."


    Energy ceased pouring out of the wizard, and the whirling funnel around them stopped. The sky cleared; the gyrating rocks began falling back to the ground. Loric had finally stabilized himself. He got up, dusted himself off, and walked to what looked like the remains of the maid. "I am sorry," he said in a soft voice. From deep within the rubble of the castle, a wooden cellar door clanged opened. The girl''s mother climbed out. She saw her daughter and swallowed, fighting to keep her composure.


    "Sir, an army is preparing to attack us," she said, pointing at the forest to the left.


    "I know." He did not ask who the body was. "When will they be here?"


    "They have already assembled at the edge of the forest, though the wind slowed them down. Just before...the storm...¡± She blinked back tears as her voice took on a quavery tone. ¡°We had word that an envoy is already riding up."


    "Was she your daughter?"


    "Yes," the woman replied. Loric had known before he even asked. He was still covered in her blood.


    "I will bring her back to you. Just give me until the end of the day." Nothing the wizard could have said would have brought her more hope. Only Loric could make such a bold promise of resurrection.


    Sophie saw the magic points on the corner of her eye blink; Loric was about to use magic again. She expected him to cast a spell, and resurrect the maid, but the number of magic points actually increased to 3,212.


    Emilio had just placed another limitation on the wizard''s use of magic, and the eyes of the character were now surrounded by a nimbus of blue light. With the increase in power, Sophie expected him to burst as if he were a bomb, but slowly his body absorbed the power, and his eyes returned to normal. Whatever he had done in the programming interface, it would be worth watching. Her father had been right. This performance was unique. In any other simulation, the fight would have already begun. This was calculated, different.


    In the distance, a warhorse whinnied.


    A large beast mounted by an armor-plated knight galloped across the field and stopped within speaking distance. The barding worn by the heavy creature was beautifully gold laced.


    The emissary sat at the doorstep of what remained of the castle. He was within striking distance for the wizard, but no weapon was drawn. The warhorse seemed unfazed by the falling rocks and debris around it.


    The horse tapped its leg twice on the ground. The knight removed his helmet, placed it under his arm, and gracefully dismounted. What was left of the castle would not scare off an invading army. In the distance, the creatures were preparing a full-scale attack. The same mission given to each contestant of Round 7 was simple: destroy as much of the invading army as possible with the 27 magic points.


    Loric pulled a gem-encrusted hairbrush from the rubble at his feet. This was not the day to care about his appearance, yet the wizard did. The knight knew of the reputation and power of the wizard, and the explosion of the castle had confirmed his fears. Loric was not an enemy to be underestimated. The knight was ready to die. He wanted only the honor of delivering his message.


    Loric spoke first."I am left to wonder why you pulled the short straw. And you are?"


    "Commandant Matthias, sir."


    "I assume you have a message for me."


    "I do," he replied. Sophie saw the military man tense: a fighting man suddenly forced into the role of diplomat. Memorization was not his strong suit, and this had to be done right.


    "Do you have a first name?" asked Loric. The question surprised the warrior.


    "Are you Loric, The Bringer of Harm, The Doom Father?" The titles were always different, but the meanings were always similar.


    "That is not what I asked. What is your first name?"


    "Roland."


    "Well, Roland, you should be aware that I don''t plan on killing anyone or anything today."


    The man ignored the wizard''s words, he was going to recite his message. He said, in the deepest tones he could muster, "Oye Loric. The Evil One, The Destructor of Worlds. The United Nation of Vurdi stands before you. We have judged your existence unworthy, and you are sentenced to die."


    "That is fine. Roland, who is the ruler of Vurdi?"


    "The Great Mundi Vurdi."


    "Is he in the forest?" Loric waited for a response. Commandant Matthias hesitated. From the expression of the fighter, Loric deduced that the ruler was nearby.


    "Killing him will not halt the invading army, he has sons."


    "I assume I am all that is left between him and total domination of the land?" Loric asked. Sophie was surprised. Why ask a question when any one of a number of different spells could find out the truth. Loric was stalling. He was deliberately not using magic. Loric continued, "I have much experience with these situations. It is one of the benefits of being very old. You see, Roland, over the centuries, many tyrants have tried to dominate me, but none has succeeded. Here is why you interest me. Each time an army shows up, there is always one person, a poor sap sent as the sacrificial lamb. It is either a slave in a plain white tunic or someone like you. The closest thing your boss has to a challenger for his job." Roland hesitated once more. This wizard had succinctly defined his predicament. It was unsettling.


    Loric continued. "Here is your play. As things stand, even if I let you go, Mister Vurdi will make sure you hack yourself to death before nightfall. Your life expectancy is rather short. I will surrender to you. You bring me into the camp to meet that general of yours. Either he kills me, and you are the hero who brought me in, or I kill your boss. Thus, I gain an ally who is in charge of an army, and you rise. In both cases, the outcome favors one man: you." The logic of it was starting to make Roland waver. "Answer me truthfully. Is he down there?"


    He''s right, thought Roland. "He is."


    Loric held both fists up for his surrender. Sophie was intrigued.


    Other gaming interfaces could not adapt to such rare and complicated situations. The Electoral platform, though, would quickly adapt and see this scenario through to the end. Roland tied the wizard''s hand rather loosely and asked "Will you kill him?" Gotcha thought Emilio behind his interface.


    "I will do much better than that."


    Roland tied a long rope to the back of the war horse and attached Loric''s hands to a spare saddle ring. They walked slowly back to the edge of the wood. The parade of shame was rather strange. They entered a wood crawling with enemy creatures of all types. The army parted as the horse walked onward. Some seemed rather confused by the simple capture of what seemed like a normal human. Vurdi had spent years building up Loric''s reputation as a destroyer of worlds. Yet there he was, powerless and walking bound behind Commandant Matthias''s horse.


    Large, intimidating dragons flew overhead above the forest, spiraling and ready to attack. The might of this army was exceptional. The men were relatively clean, groomed, and sober. Vurdi was no slouch. Obviously, he was a man to which war was important; a matter taken seriously. Loric was counting on the confusion of his easy capture, along with the fear and discipline Vurdi inspired, to keep any one of them from reaching out and hurting him.


    "The Evil One wishes to beg for his life to Vurdi himself," yelled the Commandant. Loric smiled. Roland was better than anticipated.


    After a few tense moments, a large tattooed man came out from the ranks. He was holding an axe. Judging by the reaction of the crowd, this was just a thug. The man''s armor was not impeccable; there were scratches on the breastplate. Before the man came too close, Loric called out, "Is your leader such a coward that he sends a dog? I am disappointed. I was expecting courage, not cowardice."


    In the back, there was the loud roar, as if from a madman. A guttural war-cry that could only come from someone in charge. The man with the axe immediately faded back into the ranks. What appeared next was unmistakably a battle-hardened warrior. The man''s muscles were ripped and tanned. His body was covered by scars. The armor was exquisite. There was no mistaking it: this man was in charge. Sophie saw Loric''s lips curl; he was grinning. This was going according to plan, and she began to feel sorry for anyone who tried to derail it.


    As Vurdi stalked through his troops, he swore uncontrollably. There would be no discussion, no negotiating. The man''s weapons were drawn in both hands, and he was coming in for the kill.


    Sophie saw the number of magical points in the corner of her screen blink. A single spell was cast, and the number dropped from over three thousand down to zero. Loric cast his only spell of the simulation, the single largest and most complex spell ever thrown in the game. There were no visible signs of the magic at first. The man had his axe in one hand and a large curved dagger in the other. Electoral slowed the simulation for dramatic effect. Vurdi, steps away, jumped up. At some point, the warrior was several feet on the top of an arc that would drop him onto the defenseless wizard, like a tiger about to devour its prey. Vurdi lowered both weapons on Loric. Slowly, the blades made contact with the wizard''s neck, and at that precise moment of contact, the magic spell activated.


    Time stopped.


    Both opponents were frozen in space in the forest. Loric stood a heartbeat from death. The magic flooded out of his body, colors filled Sophie''s glasses, and then there was....


    Blackness.


    There was no sound, no fire, just silence. Sophie was in some type of limbo. The blackness lightened into a thick gray fog. There were swirls and puffs in the smoke. This was the canvas upon which the wizard began to paint with his elegant power.


    Sophie expected a nuclear explosion. What she got was...


    Music.

 Chapter 14: The Time Loop

    The oboe melody was soothing.


    Electoral, unlike any other game platform, had a unique and deep connection with humans. It understood that people were like string instruments in an orchestra, capable of vibrating from sensory input like the wood of a violin sang in response to its own strings. Images and sounds could induce in most people a deep and lasting emotional response. In the software, there was no taste, smell, or touch, so she made the most of the two senses left at her disposal. Given her sheer computational power and intuitive understanding of the human condition, she had become the ultimate specialist in evoking human response.


    The audio track in any Electoral simulation was critical to the overall experience. Electoral often used her own compositions, and even gave contestants access to a playlist. A player could select popular hits, so the soundtrack of a simulation always was tuned to the player''s personality. The only musical pauses in an Electoral simulation were dramatic ones, carefully calculated.


    Sophie liked classical music, and the full, insistent tone of the oboe was a great choice.


    The music that filled the gray void was heavenly. An endless serpentine note danced for well over a minute. Sophie did not know this piece was named "Gabriel''s Oboe." The version was from Ennio Morricone and first appeared in a movie called The Mission in 1986. There was no mistaking the respect this piece imposed.


    She felt it must be the purest, longest, and most beautiful oboe solo ever recorded. Then, the gray smog began to move as if animated by the music.


    After a time, footsteps became audible. Loric walked out of the smog dressed in a long white robe. Behind him, General Vurdi was standing motionless. He wore a shifting expression of confusion, anger, and fear. The man was still holding his weapons, but they had lost a measure of their prior menace. This place was of the wizard''s choosing. Loric, or rather President Sanchez, was now in control.


    "What evil is this?" demanded the General.


    "A gift," said Loric. "You will thank me later."


    "Magic?"


    "Yes, and one of the most powerful spells at that. You should feel honored. I have never cast such an intricate web for the sole benefit of any one human before. One misstep, and we both die," he added gravely.


    The fighter waved his weapons at Loric. They passed through the wizard as if he were a ghost. The barest flicker of annoyance flashed across Loric''s features. "You really don''t understand the power in play," Loric said. "Shall we proceed?"


    "Halt simulation," said Sophie. The simulation stopped. Loric and Vurdi stood motionless in the grayness. Loric''s comment regarding the power of the spell, coupled with Sophie''s knowledge of the magic points used to create it, had piqued her curiosity. "Electro, can you show me the destruction of a fireball if Loric had used 200 points of magic against that army?" Immediately she was back in the woods, mere minutes in the past. Loric was tied up and kneeling on the ground, and General Vurdi was approaching, axe and knife in the air. Loric looked up, his restraint snapped free, and the wizard cast a 200 point fireball.


    The place blew up. The camera angle zoomed out. The explosion was the size of a small nuclear bomb. The impact was amazing. Trees flew in every direction. Rocks flew from the blast miles into every direction. Sophie had her answer; destruction of the army was possible.


    "What about a 500 point blast?"


    The same scene replayed. The General approached and attacked the same way, but this time the wizard released more power. The air crackled. The magic took effect, and a ball of flame detonated that made the previous blast seem minuscule. The blast destroyed the forest and the remainder of the castle. Most of the plateau and cliff where it rested detached and fell into the ocean. The entire forest was decimated for miles around. The ground itself was vaporized, and a large crater had formed.


    "Okay, this time show me a fireball of all of the points Loric had."


    The Electoral software knew how to be dramatic. Sophie''s perspective shot into deep orbit, where she witnessed a massive meteor entering the atmosphere. It was the size of a small moon. It rippled and burned as it fell. A second later it crashed on the ground, and in an instant, annihilated an entire continent. The explosion was cataclysmic. The seas receded as the very air caught fire. The effect spread, becoming planetwide in mere moments. The invading army was vaporized along with every other living creature in the world.


    This was not fun. "Could he have done that?"


    "No," replied Electro.


    "Why not?"


    "Emilio multiplied his magic by agreeing to many restrictions, the first being that any spell he cast could only be to the benefit of a mortal enemy. Further, Loric himself had to die at the hand of this enemy. The magic must also cause no harm and, most importantly, can have no effect on the world."


    "Then what is this?"


    "You will see. Our President is rather ingenious."


    Sophie simply said, "Resume simulation."


    They were back in the gray vapor, and both men were again talking. The oboe music was still playing. Slowly, the mist receded, and around them, a world appeared. Both men were in a poor medieval town early in the early hours of the day. There was a light rain in the air. Loric and Vurdi stood in a dirty alley between rickety wooden buildings. The ground was littered with rocks, branches, and garbage. Well-fed rats slept under the debris. This place reminded Sophie of the images shown by her tutor during her French medieval history class. The alley was blocked at one end by a wall of stones; the only entry was off of a muddy gravel street.


    "Where are we?" asked Vurdi.


    "It takes a very unique individual to see the world with your level of hatred," Loric replied. "Few burn with a rage so strong that it consumes them completely, pushing them to conquer a world and kill a wizard without ever meeting him. Today, I intend to find out whothis man is, and extinguish the hate that fuels his heart."


    "Don''t preach to me, wizard," Vurdi hissed. "Your evil is well known. You saw my army. Even the darkest and most damned creatures want you dead. You''re a monster wrapped in a silk shell!" Vurdi''s low hiss had begun to rise into a furious shriek.


    "Talking to you would be pointless. I have something in mind that, if anything but rage exists in your heart, you may wish to behold. If handled correctly, by trying to fix what you will see, you may repair your own heart."


    They stood waiting, Vurdi gazing daggers at Loric''s calm gray eyes. A young boy turned the corner and dashed desperately into the cul-de-sac. The wizard and the General were ghosts to the boy, invisible and unseen. The dirty youth was out of breath and trying to hide a large loaf of bread under his tunic.


    "Demon from hell!" growled Vurdi. He recognized the boy, it was him as a child. The military man began to breathe hard in his panic. He partly understood what was going on. If it could be possible, his hatred for the wizard doubled. Loric remained impassive; he continued to watch the scene. The boy was terrified. He had just stolen the bread, someone was on his scent, and he had just run into a dead-end alley.


    There was no way out of the alley except the way the boy came in. The walls were too high to climb over, and the rubbish piles were not tall enough to hide behind. The young Vurdi was resourceful and stubborn; he refused to let go of the bread. The old Vurdi knew what was coming next. The fighter wanted to warn his child self, tell him to back out, but he would not indulge the wizard. He watched in silent agony.


    Finally, he could bear it no more. "Your illusion is a waste of time. I do not care," the adult said, but even he did not sound convinced. "What was done was done," said Vurdi, trying to distance himself from what was unfolding.


    "The beauty of this magic resides in the fact that this," Loric said, extending his arm, "is no illusion. We stand in your past. To arrive here without breaking the laws of nature is no mean feat. For this reason, we stand immaterial. You cannot be in two places at once. But the beauty of time travel is that there is a door, a connection. You and the boy are still one. To help him, you must help yourself."


    Vurdi hated wizards even more when they spoke in riddles.


    An angry fat man lumbered around the corner of the street, into the alley where young Vurdi had been vainly trying to conceal himself. He was wearing a baker''s apron covered with flour. The sight of the brute was too much for the elder Vurdi. He began screaming and cursing incoherently as if he hoped his shout would disturb the scene. The General hefted his axe and knife. It was unclear if Vurdi wanted to kill Loric or the baker standing in the alley.


    As the scene continued unabated, panic seized the General. "You want revenge on me? Stop this. In exchange, I will let you live!" offered the old fighter. Loric ignored him and continued to watch with a steely calmness.


    The boy in the alley stumbled in the rubbish, keeping his eyes on the advancing baker. The baker produced a serrated blade, a working knife. "Ruddy thief! You''re ''bout to learn a hard lesson, boy."


    General Vurdi leapt at the baker like an animal, blades bared. Being intangible, he went right through the paunchy man and landed face down in the garbage. His younger self was not as courageous and backed away. The boy quickly ran out of space and literally had his back against the wall. "Wizard..." Vurdi, now wholly filled with dread, knew what was going to happen next. His breathing became labored and erratic. This was personal. "Wizard, monster..." he implored.


    As the baker approached, the boy pulled out the bread and held it out to its rightful owner. "My sister is dying," the boy said in a pleading voice. "My parents left us. We..." These were not lies. Loric already had pity on Vurdi, this changed nothing. Exceptional individuals were all animated by strong life experiences. It was apparent that evil memories often slept in dark shadows, and Vurdi was among the haunted. Ordinary people, leading ordinary lives, had no wish to conquer, invade, and rule others. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The baker kicked the loaf out of the hands of the child. "I will teach you." Young Vurdi lunged to the right in a desperate attempt to escape. The baker caught him and slapped him back against the rock wall.


    Loric and Sophie could barely keep their eyes on the scene. The old Vurdi was beside himself. The man was a storm of rage, panic, hopelessness, and pain. It was frightening to witness; he could probably pulverize rocks with his bare hands if given a chance. The veins in his forehead were bulging. The young man lunged again, this time to the left. The patience of the baker ran out.


    "Wizard... End this... Must you torture me?"


    The baker swung his knife at the boy. The small blade raked the boy''s cheek and sent him reeling back. The cheek of the young Vurdi was bleeding. Simultaneously, the older Vurdi''s cheek opened up and began to drip blood. The bond between both versions of Vurdi was becoming more stable, more tangible. The warrior no longer cared about Loric. He was focused on what he knew was going to happen in the alley.


    Sophie, back in the spaceship, raised her hand to her face and touched her own cheek. She had felt the cut. The action was absolutely riveting. And it was not over.


    The Electoral simulation paused.


    Sophie heard an adult female voice, Electro was gone. "Miss Lapierre, this is Electoral. Are you absolutely certain you want to see what comes next? I strongly urge you not to. I have many options to offer, less graphic versions. There is really no benefit to watching this. The original version was censored in most countries, even for adults." Electoral''s voice was perfectly modulated; indistinguishable from the long-passed human Marilyn Monroe. It rang with bell-like clarity.


    Sophie did not feel insulted by the warning; she found it rather considerate. "I understand, but my father wants me to see this."


    "I think we both know better, Miss Lapierre. I believe you have already seen what he intended for you to see. I can simply tell you what happens next."


    "I am fine. Please proceed."


    The simulation resumed as the baker cut the young boy. The raw intensity of the scene was increased many times over by also witnessing the adult Vurdi''s reaction to it. The boy was bleeding and feared for his life. The old Vurdi was pacing and vulnerable, like a wolf in a cage, inches from his younger self.


    "Wizard, tell me your price! What do you want?"


    "I have no part to play," Loric responded. "Only you can help the boy."


    "How?" growled the warrior.


    In the alley, the baker had begun beating the boy. He was raining kicks and punches on the child. Loric knew that many orphans were beaten for stealing, and none grew up to become someone capable of world domination. There was a darker side to this story that would unfold; a burning brand that would ignite a forest wildfire. And so it was.


    In the street behind of the baker, a horse''s hooves became audible, thumping roughly on the gravel. Someone was approaching. It was a Centurion in military uniform. The baker paused and looked back as the sobbing boy bled at his feet.


    "Help...me," whimpered the boy.


    "Rolo, are you okay?" the centurion asked the baker.


    "Yeah, just teachin'' this little rat a lesson."


    The young boy''s mouth was filled with blood. His nose was broken. "Help!" he gurgled.


    "Give it to him good, Rolo." The Centurion smiled at the baker and rode off without another word said.


    Loric was inches away from the old Vurdi, talking to him softly. The wizard said to his captive, "This explains why you changed the order of things. It does not explain why you need to kill me." Loric now knew more about the deep hate inhabiting the General''s heart, but judging by the reaction of the old Vurdi, this nightmare was about to grow worse.


    The child continued crying in desperation and pain. The baker slapped his jaw shut. "Shut up!" He grabbed the small face in his beefy hand. "Let me teach you a real lesson," said the baker. He licked his lips, becoming increasingly excited. The baker''s expression went from purely violent to violently lustful in moments. He pulled his belt out and opened his pants.


    Vurdi let out a roar that could tear the fabric of a universe. "WIZARD!" He screamed. "I beg you, Gods above and below, do something!"


    Loric spoke. "I connected your minds. Teach him to do the right thing! Use that rage. Become him! Take his place! The boy will only learn how to defend himself later."


    Vurdi got closer to the boy, trembling on the ground, paralyzed by fear. The baker was now fondling himself eagerly and smiling.


    "Get up!" the General fiercely whispered to his younger self.


    "Take off that tunic, boy," said the monster to the boy.


    "Don''t! Get up! Yell for help!" Both versions of Vurdi were now sobbing. Slowly, the older man was losing the fight to stoke the boy''s will to resist.


    "It''s not working," he said to the wizard. With jerking, frightened motions, the boy removed his shirt to comply with the baker''s order.


    "You must reach back into yourself," Loric explained quickly. "You have to change who you are. You are still scared of this man. Your words do not match your heart. You must act as if you were the boy."


    General Vurdi was unable to speak. The wizard was right. He was powerless. The old baker was scaring him to this very day, and that was ridiculous. General Vurdi looked into the pervert''s eyes. He needed to kill that man, and he was willing to pay the price to do it. So General Vurdi committed himself to the bravest act of his days, knowing what was about to occur.


    Slowly, both temporal versions of the man collided. Sophie saw the shapes merge, he entered the young boy''s body. General Vurdi was once again the boy. Vurdi felt the old familiar fear of this man, of this moment, but one critical element had changed. Vurdi now had, somewhere within him, the courage to nullify that fear. The baker grabbed the boy by the neck and turned him around, lifting his tunic.


    Loric finally made his move. It was time. He approached and spoke to the boy.


    "Francisco, listen to me. Be strong. Remember all you know, remember all you learned." The child seemed paralyzed. "Few men are given a chance to face their fears, to beat them. Do it for your sister. She is home, she needs the bread. Save her! Save yourself!"


    For what seemed like an eternity, the boy remained silent as the man forced himself on him. Loric waved his hand, and a woman''s figure appeared next to him. She was in her mid-forties and shared Vurdi''s features. It was his sister as an adult. Between heartbeats, he turned his head and saw the woman.


    "Help her be," said Loric. The wizard'' tone radiated authority and confidence.


    There was another long eternity, and then it happened. The terror in the eyes of the boy was replaced with deep-rooted anger, anger fueled by justice, the right kind of anger. The limp, unresistant arms of the boy began to stiffen and move. The old man was in charge, now. His hand was animated with decades of experience. He knew what to do. He''d replayed this scene over and over in his head, and he''d long ago decided on what he should have done.


    The small hand reached for the belt of the baker and grabbed a knife. With a short, swift movement, he pulled it out and jabbed it into the groin of the baker.


    The fat body recoiled as the baker howled in torment. The boy''s eyes blazed with emotion well beyond fury. Without hesitation, the boy jumped. He began stabbing wildly. Blood gushed everywhere, painting the alley walls crimson. Loric waved his hand, and the ghost of Vurdi was blown like smoke back outside of the small boy''s body.


    The old Vurdi fell on the ground and remained silent, fixated on the scene. Without the energy his older self had provided, the boy collapsed, exhausted. The baker''s last sounds were a series of gurgles and gasps as blood gushed out of the man''s neck. Sophie knew why the interface had tried to warn her. In her opinion, ¡°graphic¡± did not go nearly far enough to describe what had happened here.


    "What now, devil? You want me to thank you?" The old Vurdi spat in Loric''s face.


    "No. You cannot change, no one can from this type of experience, but he can." The wizard pointed at the young man. "I did not bring you here to help you. I brought you hereto save the young Francisco." The warrior''s face worked strangely as he tried to understand what was happening.


    "Time travel is hard to understand. Francisco may or may not hate the world, but he will not feel victimized and ashamed. Monsters such as you are created only when all these traits are collected in a single wounded and intelligent individual. I needed you to alter your past; even I am not powerful enough to have acted alone here. I have changed our past as we know it. Our present will shift back to align with the new reality you have just created."


    "I don''t..."


    "In fact, only you could influence the situation. Time travel is not really possible. Only the human mind can somehow reach back and fold upon itself. But I digress. Simply accept that reality is now changed, and for the better."


    "Now what?" asked the General.


    "We wait until the shift begins. This healing process can be beautiful to witness."


    As Loric spoke, Sophie saw the battle scars on the face of the warrior fade one after the other. The man''s heavy tan also lightened. The armor vanished, and it was replaced by a farmer''s robe. What was most striking was Vurdi''s expression. Along with the physical changes, his mind was also shifting. The darkness in his eyes was replaced by calmness. Layers upon layers of nightmares and insecurity dropped away as though he had been carrying stones on his back.


    Loric smiled.


    Finally, the new, kinder Vurdi spoke. "Where am I?"


    "Who are you?" asked Loric to the new version of the warrior.


    "Francisco Vurdi. The last thing I remember, I was plowing one of my fields. Where is this?"


    "Do you have any children?" questioned Loric. Before Francisco could answer, he turned and saw the ghost of his sister.


    "Dominique, what are you doing here?" he asked. "Where is this?"


    "Answer Loric''s question, brother," she replied.


    "Loric, the sleeping wizard?"


    "You know of me?" Loric asked, surprised.


    "Yes. I have five children," Francesco finally said.


    "Is your wife expecting?"


    "Not that I know of,"


    Sophie saw the image of Loric start to fade along with both siblings. In the background, the past was also slowly disappearing. The wounded boy was getting up in the alley, and he grabbed the loaf of bread.


    "Name your next child after me," Loric called out. "Nothing would please me more." Then there was light.


    Sophie''s simulation faded to black, only to be transported back in the Comb of Loric, in the room where the wizard had been sleeping when the simulation started. Loric was sleeping soundly. The place was back as it was when the simulation began. As promised to the elder lady in the castle, the younger matriarch opened the thick wooden door. She was holding the tray of freshly baked goods she had previously carried at the start of the simulation. There was one glaring difference. In the middle of the tray stood the large loaf stolen by the young Francisco from the baker in the simulated past.


    Outside, the region surrounding the Comb was back to its peaceful self. In the woods was no army. Time had reset itself into a peaceful reality. Loric had won without hurting anyone. He grabbed the bread from the tray, looked at it and winked at the camera.


    The simulation ended.


    "Do you want to see the scoring?" asked the voice of Electro. The girl was still too in shock of the images she had just seen; why would her father want her to watch this? She removed the glasses with trembling hands and folded them back into their case. Maybe he wanted to point to her own traumatic accident, or maybe he simply wanted to show the brilliance of the one who Laurent was tasked with defeating in November. The screens shut off.


    How could the President set in motion such an elaborate scenario? How could he guess the villain had such an event in his past? Her father was right: President Emilio Sanchez was either a freak of nature, or he was cheating. Either way, he certainly seemed unbeatable. Sophie looked outside. There was darkness, stars, and more darkness.


    She needed to relax. She pulled a thick, worn-down book from her personal storage area. The cover was made of thick plastic with screens on both sides. She had been read hundreds of times. It was her favorite book; beautifully illustrated. It served as her mind''s own private island in stressful times. The tale was Alice in Wonderland.


    As she opened the large pages and picked a chapter, a voice came in over the intercom of the cabin. "Passengers, please be aware that we will soon begin pre-tests of the internal elements of our Light Drive. You might feel a little bump, but don''t worry." Sophie paid the announcement little mind. She was not afraid of travel, despite her personal history. She clicked her belt closed, looked at the image of the rabbit on the right page and began reading. Her mind was yet again under stress, a strange feeling.


    Within seconds she was sound asleep, but this time the sleep was different.


    The flight attendant reached over and turned off Sophie''s reading light. Such a precious girl, she thought. Sophie was gripping the book strongly even in her sleep. She could keep it. As the lady reached over to close Sophie''s blind, she could swear a red star blinked and vanished in the night.


    There it was, a firefly.

 Chapter 15: The Zexs

    The Purple Dimension


    A decade ago, Earth''s physicists discovered a new particle several magnitudes smaller than the quark. Men believed, yet again, having found the smallest building block of matter forming our universe. Media tried and failed to interest the general population. But this discovery would change the Solar System.


    The notion that "a smallest particle" even existed was pure fallacy. Humans as they pushed to understand the small, saw something new and each time convinced itself this was it. Certain there was nothing was smaller, it proved itself wrong decades later with another smaller building bock. Men knew it¡¯s Universe was large beyond scale but on the microscopic scale, humans thought there was a lower limit. Manking was obviously wrong, but it helped most sleep at night.


    As if to forewarn against a new future particle trashing this latest discovery, the latest particle was baptized with the last letter of the alphabet. Thus, the zex was born. If anyone cared, it was a thousandth the size of a quark.


    But the first practical discovered use of the zex proved to be breathtaking. Zexs, to scientists, are massless particles like photons or neutrinos. The zex, when coupled to a photon, creates a stable pair for exactly two picoseconds, or more understandably, two trillionths of a second. As both massless particles unite or break, they drop any pretense of existing as a dual-wave particle group. Their spins intertwine, and the newly formed pair resonates as a heavy particle with mass. While complex, what remains is a reinforcement of field theory over particle-wave duality. Twelve people on Earth really understood what all this meant.


    An expert on CNN joked ¡°the zex is the key of your car, you don¡¯t need it once you are moving, but it¡¯s critical when you need to start the car. We managed to remove the key of the moving car and guess what, stoping it creates a problem we call zeP. See the P for parked.¡±


    Once again, to most sports and music overshadowed particle physics. These enhanced, ephemeral light particles, called zePs, have two particularly interesting properties. First, they emit a perceptible green hue to the human eye made of a visible particle smaller than a photon. Scientists remain uncertain of the nature of this green energy, but what is also known is that the pair, during its short life, can bounce off a mirror and push against it. The effect is akin to water from a fire hose hitting a brick wall. Physicists were the first to understand the potential uses of light possessing transferable momentum. The expert added, ¡°We take for granted how the powerful light of a lighthouse doesn¡¯t push a boat on water. Light bounces off, as fast as it came in but it is unchanged, why is that? Light is the only thingOur little zex key makes the light able to push. It gives it momentum.¡±


    Men, most of them simply did not care. They should have.


    The first commercial application of the zeP pair, was on the AirBus''s Light Drive. A new technology was mounted in the engine room of the Airbus A2070, the ship taking Sophie and the Electoral 2072 contestants to Mars. The propulsion mirror dubbed the Light Drive was a plate able to accelerate the ship under the impulsion of light from a laser located in Earth''s orbit. A laser was pointed at the back of the spaceship and instead of bouncing off, it pushed. Thanks to this free acceleration, significant subluminal speeds were now possible as long as a plate was in line of sight. This was courtesy of Earth''s largest computer program and the smallest known particle, the zex.


    Men was decades from commercializing this very new discovery but in a matter of months, Marilyn Monroe had it added to the ship taking her players to Mars. The three month trip between the planets could be shortened to weeks.


    Light shone, it moved and in second arrived.


    The Light Drive powered and zexs flooded the dead of space.


    ***


    Mall-ik, the quantum alien, was in awe of the destruction occurring before him.


    He floated alone in the purple space of his microscopic world. Ahead, larger than a city, a flow of massive zexs poured into his world form a giant green rift. He was alone here in the Purple-colored space, but he was not scared -- alone he felt safe for the first time in quite a long time. In this adjacent quantum world, Mall-ik, a young member of a race called Metils, was floating and pulsing. From the boy''s vantage point, his world was much different.


    The Purple was a world built on different fundamental laws of physics. Here zexs had been known for eons. In this quantum place, the zexs appear as massive colorful spinning boulders made upon hundreds of layers of spinning particles the size of meteors. Each was capable of large-scale destruction, these thousands were oblivion.


    On Earth, zexs were small, here they were massive. It was, for the moment impossible for inhabitants of both worlds to even conceive Life on such a difference in scale.


    The strange world where Mall-ik resides is simply called the Purple because of the colorful purple hue of its deep space. Mall-ik, a planetoid of spinning rocks was floating alone far from any other life. Gravity could not exist here, as mass did not bend such small space. There were other forces of course.


    Here was the problem, to the inhabitants of this world, deadly rifts had been appearing with no discernible pattern in their world. Through these rifts, rivers of massive zexs poured in. The simplest description of the boy was a large modern art ball made of flashing pieces of uneven glass, where each piece was attached to a ballet of strings and light kept bouncing between the plates. The creature pulsed and not unlike Loric the magician, blue sparks of energy bounced between the rocks of molded glass.


    The zexs, these deadly enormous missiles ahead of him were created in the green tears of the Purple''s quantum dimension and travelled as fast as bullets only to crash into more deeply inhabited areas of the Purple. Zexs were here meteors sent down to destroy cities.


    The slaughter has already killed over a billion Metils, the strange inhabitants of this world. Thankfully, after a green rift appears, it quickly moves at a fixed speed in space and vanishes as suddenly as it appeared.


    As predicted, the large glowing green tear appeared, and the rift was standing before Mall-ik. It had just opened deep in space, in a portion of the Purple far from any inhabited area. He was the only one in danger for the moment. While the beauty of the rift could not be denied, the situation was dire. Mall-ik was not here by mistake; he had to translate to this area using his technology and report back quickly if the rift opened, which it just had. Instead of reporting, the boy pulsed and small groups of rocks floated out of his body in four directions.


    He was alone. This was beauty. This young male creature was used to solitude and there was a mastic Attraction.


    He had hoped the engineers were wrong and the rift would not appear. For the first time, the precise space-time coordinate of this rift had been accurately predicted by a young Metil scientist, once ridiculed for coming up with his wild theory. The prediction had chilling repercussions: the theory predicts an increase in the number of rifts and the destruction of all life in the Purple within years.


    Mall-ik, a young guard, had been dispatched to monitor the edge of the rift''s opening. The boy was a ball made of seven spinning concentric moving layers, each formed by millions of smaller pieces. Mall-ik was a complex cloud of spinning gyroscopic rock with lights bouncing between those rocks.


    Metils are normally made of five layers, and a few of six. A handful of individuals in the race are ever been born with seven spinning layers. These rare individuals held higher public offices, but that was not the case for Mall-ik. He was a pariah. In this world, the concept of particle spin is well understood. Pairs form and consistently orbit themselves in the same direction.


    Mall-ik, even with his seven layers, was working as a simple security guard. With the opening of the rift, this guard''s mission had just transformed into a suicide mission. He continued to float, alone, in the dead of the purple space. He forgot to report the aperture of the green glowing surface. Projectiles began to gush in, flying close to him in every direction. But he was oblivious to them.


    Before him was a sight impossible to ignore. The rift through which the zexs streamed looked like a city-wide flat surface, a large mirror between two worlds. Mall-ik could see the zexs materialize at the interface as they shot into the Purple. The velocity of the zexs was shocking for such heavy structures. These were missiles of devastation like buildings falling to crush city dwellers.


    Mall-ik''s world, as every world in the Multiverse, was built on its own unique set of laws of physics. The Purple had no gravity, three electro-weak forces, and two magnetic forces unrelated to the weak fields. If Earth floated in oil, then this place was vinegar. The space in this world had different tints where areas of increased energetic space were more deeply shaded. Creatures like the Metils lived and fed in these deeper energy areas the same way humans enjoyed a sunny beach. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    The ruling body of the Metils was known simply as the Group. They were truly belligerent. The creation of zexs, if at all possible here, had long been outlawed. There was no legal justification for creating zexs, aside from military uses, but the Metils had no known enemies. They had long destroyed all other forms of life here.


    The Group was this race''s last hope of closing these rifts, which appeared to be a new natural phenomenon. One of their scientists had a theory but was jailed for his radical new ideas, but as billions died pointlessly, he was now allowed to resume his work under close supervision. Thanks to the latest accurate prediction, the Group could finally rule out the most reasonable hypothesis that no real enemy was attacking them. The barrier between this world and its neighboring world was fading.


    The edge of each of these rifts was irregular, like a sunspot. According to the scientists'' calculations, the rift that just opened would be the first of three. The first would be the smallest in size, and shortest in duration.


    The Group assigned a young security officer to monitor the first rift. That creature was no expert and knew very little of the theories. They picked Mall-ik, he was expendable and could die. Mall-ik was unclear if he was watching a gate between worlds, or a natural phenomenon. This is where the rift would open. His job was simple, after reporting the aperture if a zex was ejected from the rift and shot in a direction where it headed directly toward their warm spot where Metils lived, he was to warn them. Privately, the Group hoped one zex would kill Mall-ik before the day was over.


    Mall-ik was no idiot. He knew zexs were dangerous and unstable. A teacher once told him that only quarks were larger, but right now he did not care. He was floating in the cold purple space where he had been told to wait. The sheer power generated by the rift was palpable at this distance. This was like standing half a mile away from Niagara Falls. The power cracking in the purple space felt strange, like a warming heat. Slowly, he began to pulse from being this close to raw, destructive energy.


    Somehow, the deadly rift was not scaring him. Few came back alive after watching a zex from this close, much less a rift where hundreds were created. Mall-ik was standing between hundreds of rocks pouring forth each passing minute. Within each zex, colors jumped from one rock to the next in a kaleidoscope of life. Oddly, these zexs were filled with strange green flashes.


    The sight was beautiful. Mesmerizing.


    His mind wandered. Metils had no respect for him because of his birth. All of his twenty-seven creators, who merged at the time of his conception, had died as he snapped off from the larger grouping. In this world, parents formed of hundreds of spinning and orbiting rocks literally merged and then like cellular division, gave small groups of themselves to form a child. Birth here was always dangerous. Normally, if twenty-seven merged, twenty-eight would emerge.


    All twenty-seven of his progenitors died at the moment of his birth. That was his first sin. The respect of their deaths was the only reason why he was not killed at birth. His second sin was his orbital flaws. Pairs of rocks forming individuals always rotated around each other in a clockwise fashion, what was called a positive spin. In the rarest of cases, one pair of the nearly thousand pairs forming an individual flipped and turned in tandem with a negative spin.


    The kindest word used to describe someone with a negatively spinning pair was ¡°bastard.¡± In the past, if such an inversion happened after birth, the Metil was instantly put to death. Birth inversions were shunned, but just recently tolerated by law. Mall-ik would be lying if he said he was above the taunts. He was an outcast, nothing could change that. As if his inversion was not enough, Mall-ik had seen that morning the second inversion within himself, which meant his certain death. With great difficulty, he managed to hide the pair below the other outer spinning rocks, but sooner or later his concentration would slip, and someone would see his deformity. His days were numbered; he knew as much.


    This was probably why he cared little about the dangers of the rift.


    This rift was a perfect death but in his mind, he felt something strange, a connection. A strange feeling deep within himself.


    Watching the rift, pulsating with the energy, he fell into some type of trance. He no longer cared about his own safety. The sizes were deceiving, he was unaware that he was slowly moving closer to the rift. The rounded, colorful shapes were astonishing. The giant zexs appeared and shot at him from every direction. As he approached, they somehow seemed to shrink, they now felt the size of buildings, not cities.


    He had no way to measure distances or time. By floating so close to the rift, Mall-ik began to absorb some of the energy. His five lower layers began to spin faster. He liked it. He turned his attention to the areas of the rift between the forming meteors. There was black darkness, blanketed by stars.


    In the Purple, when particulate matter slowed and lost energy to almost nothing, it simply began to lose grip and transition to non-existence. It also becomes transparent moments before it phased out of existence to a nameless place. Because all known worlds also share this strange rule, matter which phases out when moving too slow, it was hypothesized that it all went to a world of extremely low energy, a place everyone calls the Cold. It was inevitable: every particle, in time, merged with other rocks, lost energy, and slowed down. Large structures, like the zex, the photon, and the quark were normally too slow to stay in the Purple.


    All matter one day vanishes to the Cold, never to return. Mall-ik was no physicist. He was unable to understand what was going on at the rift, but ahead he saw into the Cold. The world where humans lived. It was there.


    The Metil physicist that predicted this rift arrival knew better. He reasoned the Cold could use these dead slowed structures using different laws of physics. The brilliant scientist reasoned large things could be formed by joining up with a hundred such neutrons. Little did he know life on the Cold was formed of billions of merged particles. The Cold, Earth¡¯s dimension even had stars.


    Mall-ik was floating in space, at the edge of the rift, where his own portions were moving in and out of existence. If the scientists were right, this region was about to be torn open, and he had a front-row seat. But he was not afraid. He had little value for his own life. As he moved closer, the zexs were shrinking in size. Unaware, he was, in fact, growing in size. His path miraculously avoided the incoming zexs until he was inches from it. To the young creature, the rift was like a wall of boiling magma that he was ready to touch. His large body was now warm. He knew he was dying, yet he kept floating closer and closer.


    Then Mall-ik saw images in the rift -- he saw Sophie. As he did, he saw her look back. She saw him, a red sparkle in space. The boy was unable to understand any of what he saw.


    The sight was amazing. A powerful flow of even larger particles, photons, all of the same type and size arrived from a distance and hit a mirror. The source was localized in space next to the rift. The photons on the mirror morphed like werewolves under a full moon into monstrously sized zexs. The shells were torn off, and green energy spat out. The system on the other side of the rift was creating the zexs. This was too complex to describe. He stood in a place that resembled magma from a volcano jumping into the ocean.


    Mall-ik floated even closer.


    Space exploded around the young guard. The sight was beautiful. Mall-ik ventured closer to the green light beam, like iron drawn to a magnet. He let the photons pass through him; they did. The Metils were a race transparent to photons, as long as they were pure.


    Mall-ik was now on the edge of the rift.


    He could see strange images. There was a tube, a ship in space. Though Mall-ik did not know it, he was seeing the Airbus A2070 taking Sophie to Mars. In the back of it was a Light Drive. The plate at the heart of the drive generated zexs, giving them time to merge with a blue photon.


    The guard did not understand what he was seeing. He did not know of the Light Drive, the ship, or even Sophie. All he knew was that as the photons of the laser hit the dark plate, and chaos of wasted energy was gushing out in the newly opened rift. Matter was being destroyed in quantum waves crashing in space. From his vantage point, this was like using a tsunami to move a beach chair.


    Mall-ik was floating in the anomaly. He could feel the unpleasant ripples of space from where he stood. He knew he was not supposed to be there. Then, in the deep darkness of space, he perceived something. He had no eyes, no body, yet the world around him lit up with bright colors; tints he had never seen. Anyone else would have recoiled, but not him. He was absorbed by the beauty. He was absorbing part of the energy from the rift. Unbeknownst to him, he was shifting his scale. He was still small, but he had left his quantum world. He now blinked like a firefly in the dark new world.


    What he saw in the Cold was beautiful and mysterious.


    Ahead of the anomaly, he saw the loud thundering source of chaos. It was the light drive and the ship. Next to the noise were many shining shapes floating in space. These looked alive, like bees swarming around their hive. The shapes seemed to have structure, coherence. Overwhelmed, he moved closer and counted over a hundred shining clouds, each forming a network of electricity in a defined space. These were sentient beings of some type. They sat in the ship. Mall-ik was seeing the brain activity of each person onboard the ship. The electricity created by each neuron in the brains of those onboard left a trace that resembled many of the lower forms of life in his world. He also saw energy in the ship.


    One of the living creatures was a bit smaller than the others. Its network of energy was not shining silver. It was gold. He knew her. In his heart she was important.


    Then also one of the farthest from the dangerous anomaly. This was all very confusing. As he approached, he did what was ordinary for him: with part of himself, he mimicked the structure and reproduced the pathways. This was how his race communicated.


    Mall-ik was replicating the human pathways the same was the sand creatures on Mars had copied the brain of the explorer. The Metis were unrelated to the Martians yet both managed life in its purest form. Humans had bodies around their brain.


    Sophie¡¯s being began to float in. Every memory, every feeling became his. The pathways began to send him messages and even emotions. Part of his mind was now a copy of Sophie''s brain. What she was thinking, he was thinking. What she was seeing, he was seeing. The information he received was impossible to digest for an alien being. In his normal form, he had no eyes, no body. Then an emphatic bond formed. He felt sadness and worry. He was alone, far from home. That emotion he could relate to. He was also sharing the thoughts of an orphan; also easy to understand.


    She blamed herself for her family¡¯s destruction. He could relate.


    Mall-ik felt the girl; she had a name. She had a father, and he was on the ship. How could she be an orphan and have a father, he wondered. Mall-ik knew this was dangerous, and he tried to disconnect from her. He could not. Instead, out of confusion and against his better judgment, he plunged into the memory. She was from the third planet, which she called earth, and she was going to the fourth red planet, which she called mars.


    The boy, irresponsibly slipped, moved and from there, things got really strange.

 Chapter 16: Wonderland

    Sophie, after watching the shocking medieval performance of President Sanchez was now asleep. Sleep came naturally to Sophie, even in troubled times. Adults kept reminding her how lucky she was. Each time she woke, she only vaguely remembered her visits into her strange dream world. Reading Alice in Wonderland before dozing off always brought her to a good and happy place.


    Wonderland had its share of villains, but by now they no longer scared her. Her life experiences were, honestly much more stressful. Sophie was sound asleep in her first class seat as the Light Drive began to warm itself up and create zexs. Light from earth¡¯s orbiting satellite at departure hit the plates creating push, green light and a rip between the Cold and the Purple. Now, to slow down the ship, the light was sent from mars.


    Sophie did not care about such things.


    Dreams had always been a mystery to scientists and theologians alike. Dogs, cats, and even horses slept, and at some point during sleep, the brain wandered as if tired of the solitude of the dark within itself. There was a purpose to sleep and dream, that was uncontested. Library shelves were filled with different theories as to why dreams existed; none were correct.


    Dreams are in fact a different facet of reality. In a dream, everyone, from the homeless to the king is an equal. The paraplegic here danced and lost ones returned to life. Dreaming was for most a blessing, but for the depressed, a curse. Dark dreams, nightmares, were an old world accessible only through dream. The role of nightmares was also unclear. They helped the brain maintain a high level activity needed by our world.


    Sophie was now sound asleep in the Airbus A2070. She had given way to her fatigue reading her favorite chapter of the book. In her dream, she found herself sitting at the long table surrounded by the entire cast of fun characters. She loved the book. These creatures were her only friends. In her dream, in this place, she wasn''t the famous Sophie, she was Alice, a young girl entitled to be young and vulnerable. Here she was silky, threw tantrums and even cried.


    She loved her white dress and pulled on it before sitting down. Next, she surrounded by a thick forest filled by hundreds of colorful birds, grabbed the elephant-shape tea cup and drank. She offered her furry friends some of her chocolate chip cookies. She had been here, at this table, too many times to count. Since she left earth, she tried to come here three times a day. A large purple cat popped-up in the chair next to her. The cast of characters looked at each other, but no one spoke. This was Sophie''s dream. They drank, ate and laughed for a while as a needed break from the mature content she had been forced to watch.


    Then, to add to the delusion, a strange green portal of light, a rupture in space with uneven edges appeared. It was strangely odd even in Wonderland. Here, doors were not unusual but Sophie never dreamt of fire or energy. Inside the portal could be seen the other side of a world and it was purple color.


    "Yes?" said the rabbit.


    A gentle firefly, gold and red with sparkling wings flew out into Sophie¡¯s dream reality from the Purple. The little firefly was alive, it moved around the table inspecting in turn each creature one after the other.


    "What is it?" asked the large white furry creature to her left.


    "I would say, I would say, who are you?"joked the giant caterpillar.


    The flying creature did not seem hostile. It was inquisitive. The rabbit did what rabbits do, he swat at it, but thankfully missed.


    "You want tea?" asked the caterpillar sending large rings of smoke the way of the intruder.


    The firefly stopped moving. "Where am I?" resounded a boy''s innocent voice. It could speak. This was Mall-I¡¯m from the Purple.


    "You are in Wonderland, do you work for the Queen?" asked the dressed-up Sophie. She caressed her sleeves and pointed to a frame of the Queen attached to a tree. Here, Sophie could play a role and be the young girl she wanted to be, elegant and gracious. She got up from her seat, and saluted the visitor pretending to remove and wave an invisible hat.


    "What, where is this?" questioned the boy. Mall-ik could somehow see this world. It had new colors, and he could communicate. He knew he was in deep trouble. The Metil was not supposed to be here. Before Sophie could answer, the firefly began to vibrate and buzz as if animated by fear. "Sorry," it said, "I am so sorry." The insect left a streak of red as it flew back through the portal of light from which it came. Behind the creature, the rift stayed open but was it was closing quickly.


    "Alice, go after it!" This was Wonderland after all.


    "But the rift is too small. I cannot pass through it."


    "Take the shrinking potion, you have some left." The white rabbit was correct. "It''s in your pocket." She liked the twist to the story. The change in the dream was welcome. As she drank from the tiny bottle, the rift moved closer to the ground. Within seconds, she was the size of a bug and was standing in front of the green light and looked into the Purple.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Good luck," wished her friends as Sophie leaped into the unknown.


    The girl expected many things, but where she landed was not one of them. This was no longer Wonderland. The world around was formless; a simple diffuse purple. Here there were no trees, no ground, just the lilac color. In the distance were bordeaux colored patches. Her body was gone, but that was fine. She was used to playing computer games in which she had no body. Each time she visited her father, she was also formless. She did not panic, instead she looked around for something or someone.


    Behind her was a tall black mirror that reminded her of the shape of the gate through which she just walked. Instinctively, she knew this was in the world of the firefly. Around her, she saw small pellets of green shiny metal entering this world and flying out in every direction from the black mirror and whizzing into the purple.


    Then she saw it. Floating in the distance was the little red dot. It reminded her of the thing she had seen a couple of times floating in space from her seat in the ship. That was odd. The firefly no longer had wings or even a form. Sophie had a sixth sense and felt like the firefly had just seen her. It began to pulse, shiver and then try to move slowly away.


    "Wait!" called Sophie. The creature panicked. The pulsing of the creature began to flicker. It was moving erratically in every direction as it did back in Wonderland. "Wait!" Sophie repeated, this time with a milder tone. She could hear the creature''s thoughts. It knew it was in trouble; it wanted Sophie to go away. "Talk to me," she tried to whisper instead of simply thinking. Her words came out much stronger than hoped. The sound resonated so strongly, her voice sent shock waves in the purple in every direction pulsing away from her like a tsunami. The wave hit the creature before she could act. It knocked out some of the rocks forming it.


    Sophie heard it cry out in pain.


    Wounded, it stopped buzzing frantically. The creature was now barely pulsating; it was hurt.


    "I am sorry. I am sorry," it kept repeating. The creature was genuine. "I am so sorry." Sophie felt awful, she had hurt it.


    The Earth girl was afraid to talk or even think. She looked away and said and said as gently as she could. "Who are you? Is this Wonderland?"


    This time her voice did not create the wave. The small creature was alive but confused. "I don''t know. Don''t hurt me."


    "What is your name, I am Alice. What are you doing in Wonderland?"


    "My name is Mall-ik. Don''t kill me." The creature was afraid. "What is Wonderland?"


    "We are in Wonderland," explained Sophie. He did not find the strength to contradict her. "I am really called Sophie, who are you?" Sophie felt more comfortable with her real name. The time for playing was over.


    "Sophie?"


    "Yes."


    "The creature from the other side of the rift?" it asked.


    "Yes, I suppose." In her back the portal was still open, it was still pouring the warm energy. By the word ¡°rift¡±, clearly the creature meant the door.


    "Oh, poor me, I am in so much trouble. I did not mean to spy on you. I am sorry. I must go. I forgot to report the rift!" It began to slide away. Sophie had no trouble moving in the purple space and was able to keep up with the Metil. "Please..." it implored. His words were touching.


    "Who are you?" asked Sophie. "Quickly, I will grow bigger soon, the effect of the potion will wear off." Sophie was still partly asleep. She was referring to the temporary effects of her shrinking potion from Wonderland. The young Metil''s confusion was total.


    "Sophie, please return to your ship. The rift is temporary, it will close soon. You will be lost here in my world." Sophie somehow felt the creature''s concern was legitimate. It feared for her well-being. "Please go back before it''s too late!" it insisted.


    Sophie started to wonder. Things were not normal. Something was off; this place was no Wonderland. "Can I just take the next door?"


    "You cannot!" it exclaimed, "Please, please, please, I beg you." He was genuine. "I am already in so much trouble. I will be blamed for this."


    "Do you serve the Queen?"


    The quantum creature was confused. He knew of no royalty. The person from the other world had followed him and was talking nonsense. In a courageous move, the young Metil, appearing to Sophie as a firefly, changed direction and began moving back toward the rift. He would sacrifice himself to guide her home. He was to blame. Sophie''s mind followed in tow. There was nothing else here.


    Mall-ik wanted her to come closer. "I saw your memories. Your father, Laurent needs you. Return home!"


    "He does," she admitted. This was no longer a fun dream. She did not like to be reminded of her father''s condition. The wounded creature kept moving toward the rift. By some miracle, the zexs shooting out of the portal kept pouring out but missing them.


    Mall-ik continued. "I am sorry. My creators are also extinguished. They are..." he picked the right word. "Dead. I understand your pain. You must be with him; the one father."


    The little creature seemed to struggle as it advanced against the pouring flow of light coming out of the rift. Sophie on the other hand was floating as an observer. As they got closer to the door, she began to distinguish shapes inside the rift. She saw the stars in her world against the darkness of space. This glass mirror was a door to her world.


    "This is you, the one in gold. Can you please go back?" said Mall-ik. Sophie did not see any gold. All she saw the Airbus floating in silent dark space.


    "Will the Queen have your head?" asked Sophie without much control over the words. Her mind was fogging. She knew this was no longer Wonderland, but as she returned home, she felt a connection with her real body, and her sleeping mind. She was asleep.


    "Yes!" Replied Mall-ik. "The Queen..."


    He really needed her to go. She did what Alice would have done, and passed from the Purple into her world. She was falling asleep, within the dream.


    "What is your name?" was her last words to the alien.


    "Mall-ik," he said from a distance. Then she had returned.


    ***


    "Welcome back. Where were you?" asked the caterpillar.


    "With a new friend," said the girl now wearing a purple color lace dress.


    Sophie finished her dream peacefully but things were definitely not getting simpler.

 Chapter 17: More Purple

    Mall-ik was in shock; he was resonating on all seven layers of his being. His rocks were animated by parasite spins and off-axis vibrations. This was how the Metils handled extreme stress. He needed to calm himself. The encounter went too fast, he spoke, saw and he was back, floating alone in the Purple. The rift behind was closed, and his link with the alien girl severed. The one called Sophie was back in her strange but astonishing world.


    His encounter with Sophie was no figment of his imagination; he had the battle scars to prove it and the memories stored in his databanks. A sizable portion of his seventh layer was gone; vaporized by a single word pronounced by the invisible human creature. He was now lost in space. His locator, a deep space compass normally intertwined into the rocks of his seventh layer was now cinder.


    He should be worried about standing in the path of the second predicted rift, but he had more pressing matters. He looked around in time to see the last zexs to pour into his zone. He flew closer to the zexs; they appeared different, smaller. They looked like modest green glass pebbles. The zexs had shrunk, or his size had increased a thousandfold. Both made no sense, but the latter was more probable. Changing size, called scaling, was entirely possible in the Purple. Scaling was a gift to the Metils. When upward scaling was attempted, it was deadly, but smaller scaling was possible. Somehow his contact with the rift had made him larger. Much larger.


    Any other day, his size difference would be a significant worry, but not now. The gaping holes in his layers and the stress was too much for anyone to endure without medical intervention. He was in danger, and his survival had to be his priority. Most of the rocks forming his seventh, outer shell were missing. About a hundred rocks from his sixth shell were also missing. His government issued armor that served as an eighth layer was long gone. Luckily, he was wearing the armor before the encounter. Without it, he surely would not be there. The girl''s voice alone had reduced both what he called peripheral constituents and his field equipment to powder.


    He looked inwardly between his rocks like a human uses a tongue to check for broken teeth after a punch to the face. Both of his spin defects were still inside of him; that was awful luck. If only the pro hac amputation could have ripped those off. The first inversion was difficult to see in layer one; the second moved as part of layer four.


    He needed to calm down.


    The vibrations were making him bleed energy, and he was getting weaker. He had only moments before he would lose consciousness. He no longer felt Sophie; their link had vanished. Deep within himself, he knew she was back with her father and that reassured him. How he wished he had a father, she was so lucky. Hers was called Laurent, he wanted to know him. What an honor it would be to take care of him.


    "Sophie?" he said out loud to confirm his suspicions. There was silence. He was alone. His mind was still overwhelmed. In the Purple, the visitor had no material body. She was pure thought. Thinking about it, he was also immaterial in Sophie''s incredible world. The place she called Wonderland was filled with colors alien to him. In her world, Sophie had a body, while he did not. He knew she was the creature around the large table with the white dress. Her body was strange; it had no moving rocks. She really was nice.


    How would they ever believe him at the reporting station? Sophie was no illusion. He looked inside his fifth layer, the mental bridge was still working. The device was a black box recording every moment of his life.


    Alone in deep space, Mall-ik lost consciousness.


    ---


    Time passed.


    ---


    Slowly, his orbiting rocks slowed almost to a point where they stopped vibrating altogether. When he awoke, the new rift still wasn''t there. There was silence in the Purple where he floated. His pain had deepened and intensified, but he was still alive. His vibrating stress was gone, replaced by weakness. He was no longer bleeding energy. He would die unless he could recharge, and he was in no shape to travel to the closest deeper purple energetic area. Home was too far away. He was ready to die.


    He waited.


    But pain quickly undermined his resolve to play the martyr. There was a way, in theory. His streamer still worked, and by using it, he could attempt a space jump. He knew once back at his base, the Group would interrogate him endlessly, as was their habit. They were sure to dismantle him, either because of his two spin inversions, or his disregard of the mission. He deserved whatever reprimand was coming his way. The Group''s answer to any problem was almost universally death.


    He had discovered life on the other side of the rift, which had to be worth something. As his mind merged with Sophie''s, he saw images from the Cold. Her world was so different, the empathic link between their minds allowed him to understand part of what he witnessed. Hopefully, the information from his recording box was incomprehensible if he was dismantled. Maybe he could negotiate for his life. But who was he kidding, the Group was awful.


    Mall-ik''s immediate survival depended on his capacity to find a stream that moved in the direction of the capital, use the technology to jump on it and transport himself to safety. He was new to using streams; his plan was a mere step from suicide. Even under calm conditions, using the technology was dangerous. There was simply no other option available to him, he reasoned.


    Using his mind, he dismissed the pain and concentrated. Rocks moved. He pulled the rocks forming the streaming device orbiting from within himself. By some miracle, the box was intact. He knew he wasn''t ready, but he had to attempt the jump. Hours of preparation were normally required, but he had only minutes. He ran part of the mental checklist before he attempted to energize the device. Any misuse of the Streamer would mean death.


    Streaming itself was old technology; not the streamer he was about to use. Thousands had paid dearly to develop it. It took decades before one of the prisoners condemned into streaming survived to tell his story. Because of the importance of teleportation, the cost in Metil life was ignored, and testing on streaming continued. Today streaming, in the best of conditions, was deadly more than two percent of the time. Mall-ik''s conditions were unquestionably not ideal.


    The technology could be imagined as some form of teleportation. A Metil energized the device and in the blink of the mind reappeared leagues away from where the device was powered.


    Mathematicians discovered one day that the Universe or at least the Purple dimension had what was called natural scales. Everything in the universe existed within itself at multiple different scales, or sizes. This principle, on earth, is called self-similarity. It is, in itself, far from intuitive. Theory teaches us a curved coastline is identical in shape when looked from a high altitude, or when using a microscope, finding the identical portion was the problem. The similarity in shape between a large object and a small one is not coincidental: it is a natural property of the Universe. While both scale versions look the same, fractal mathematics tells us they are not the same. In the Purple, that is not the case.


    The Metils mathematicians found that self-similarity comes in two types. The Universe not only creates identical patterns at different scales, but some of the rare matches can be linked at the hip, as two sides of a coin. In fact, the theory says everything and everyone exists simultaneously at multiple different scales. The coastline from 20,000 feet has multiple, identical, fractal copies at different scales, but a handful of scales are streams.


    Metil children are taught that scaling is like being able to find a microscopic map of the world around you and being able to move the smaller version of yourself on that map. By reducing yourself to nearly the size of the copy on the map, your smaller twin version grows larger. As the pair gets closer to one another other, they are pinched in a precise direction on their respective maps.


    Scientists believe not only is there a smaller version of anything, but logically there have to be larger versions at larger scales. Each time upwards scaling has been attempted, the result has always been death. Since streaming, or pinching, is associated with movement in one precise direction in space, traveling in any direction would require additional research.


    Because of their shapes, the Metils were uniquely adapted to stream. With training, they can extend themselves, or inflate themselves to nearly double their size. At normal size, the streaming device always finds one single stream in one direction but rarely the desired direction. The best Metil streamers have mastered expansion techniques. This allows them to increase the number of available scales at any given time. A Metil at ten percent additional expansion will find a new second scale, hopefully in the needed direction of travel.


    Mall-ik had no physical capacity to expand himself to help his streamer find multiple scales and be able to scale in the right direction. But he could look for the basic scale. Maybe the first offered scale would be right and lead home.


    He also was a novice streamer. After years of practice on the simulators, he was authorized for the first time to use the streamer moments before he reached the rift. He activated the machine. The first step was simple. Mall-ik pushed a shining red rock, and an image of himself was stored in the memory. Hurt, with chunks missing, he was nearly twenty percent easier to model. He initially did not enter an expansion variable, he was in no shape to push his size. The pain would be too much.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The device returned no viable scale.


    He increased his expansion coefficient to five percent. That could be possible. The machine found a single stream, to the north-east. The direction was away from where he needed to go. He increased his maximum expansion to ten percent and finally fifteen. Nothing. Only once he increased the expansion to twenty percent did he find one. It led directly to his deep purple. There was no way he could expand as much. Healthy, he could maybe expand by thirty percent. He had no time to wait; he had no choice.


    He slid a block and energized the device. It sparkled. The pieces forming the streamer stopped turning within his sixth layer. The rest of his body was still orbiting. His own rocks touched the machine; there was an orange jolt of power in the device. The energy jumped between the rocks, like a Tasmanian Devil of electricity. At least the machine was working. It kept warming up, then the program executed.


    He now had to expand himself. He took a deep pause and slowly began to push. Like a person taking a deep breath, he let himself grow, pushing every rock apart from his center. The pain was blinding. Each rock had to distance itself from its neighbors in the same proportion. He was only at five percent growth, and there was no way he could do more. His larger rocks began to vibrate; this was not stress vibration, it was different. He ignored the pain and pushed on. As each of his rocks parted from the others, the pain doubled. He was a human with broken legs trying to stand up. With supermetil effort, his expansion increased and passed eight percent. He had to continue. The pain was debilitating.


    He really had to find a reason why he should push past the pain. If he failed, would they send someone else to the next opening of the rift? Would that person be as kind as he was? He wanted to see Sophie, yet he was returning home. He knew his mind was not making much sense.


    He pushed. His expansion was now at ten percent, then fifteen, and finally twenty percent. At some point, the pain was so great, he no longer felt his body. Once wide enough, the screen on the device blinked. It now read twenty-one and a half. Without hesitation, he let one of his spinning layers touch the orange energy. Like a child''s toy, the machine expanded and the rocks forming it placed themselves in a close orbit over his round body. The little points began to rotate very fast forming an orange color sphere around him.


    Then, the world around him collapsed.


    He was gone.


    Streaming was no walk in the park. He needed to concentrate, almost meditate. His mind had to run a complex gymnastic sequence. He needed to find the focal point. None of what he expected happened. Instead, he fell into nothingness; a pit of darkness. He knew streaming, and this was not it.


    An instant later, he appeared in a much deeper color part of the Purple. He looked around. He was at the doorstep of his final destination. He had committed yet another mortal violation. Streaming this close to a city was forbidden. Anyone in a close vicinity of where he arrived would die. Further, streaming was imprecise.


    Mall-ik was dying; he did not care. Other Metils around him began to yell and panic. Within seconds, a citywide alarm sounded. He obviously was the source of the commotion. But something else was wrong. He was in the middle of his capital city. Millions of small shiny rock danced forming this city. Hundreds of Metils were phasing out of their houses, passing like ghosts through the walls. Each made of crystal-like popcorn, with kernels bouncing off each other. This world was beautiful. Seas of energetic rocks, in small groups, were spinning around in clockwise fashion.


    The world felt smaller than normal.Each of his orbiting rocks was larger. Each rock was bigger, stronger. This was impossible. Expanding to scale was pushing rocks apart, not making them bigger. It was as if he''d drank Alice''s growth potion from Wonderland. He was about twice the size of the others in the city. He had no clue as to how he''d scaled to this size. In this larger form, he would be harder to destroy.


    There was a lot of commotion, but no one spoke to him directly. In this world, communication was a series of clicking sounds generated by the caresses of the spinning rocks orbiting each other. Putting the pain aside, he felt like a giant. This made no real sense. In the Purple, creatures did not grow in size. His current predicament was technically and scientifically impossible. After his encounter in the Cold, nothing could really shock him today. He was wounded, and he needed help, that was obvious.


    Slowly he made his way to the large doors of the of the Group''s headquarters. The tall building looked like millions of blue glass cubes, each with rounded tips and vibrating edges. Energy flowed in every direction. The Metils could, like a comb through hair, slide themselves through what appeared to be solid.


    Finally, as he reached the large doors of the place he needed to go, Metils working as medical staff came to help. There was universal kindness about doctors. The larger patient was still able to maneuver through the crystals, he passed the door, but as he did so, he did break a few formations.


    "I need to report," said Mall-ik to the doctor.


    "We must repair."


    "No time," said a rude voice inside the structure. The Chancellor was already barking orders. "Bring him in. Lock him up!"


    Mall-ik floated, with difficulty, to the high inner chamber. Here there were fewer crystals, and he could see the others. He quickly was surrounded. Regeneration modules, also made of spinning particles tried in vain to hook themselves to his oversized body; he would have to stay injured. What had happened to him was not natural. The questions began.


    "Chancellor Rik, he has two inversions," observed the medic.


    "Silence. You will speak when asked." There was no kindness in this place. "Debris," began the Chancellor speaking now to the larger sized Mall-ik. "Tell me what happened; you have moments before we dismantle you!"


    The Metils were capable of imprinting. This technology was a merger of minds and included forceful data sharing. It ordinarily was reserved for reproduction ceremonies. Forcing imprinting upon another was tantamount to rape on Earth. The technology allowed one to read another''s mind the same way Mall-ik had read Sophie''s.


    Mall-ik''s size was a problem. Mall-ik knew if the medical equipment could not connect, the mental reading devices would also be unable to pry open his mind. "There is little time, I must warn you, I was attacked by a creature from the other side of the breach."


    "From the other side of the rift you guarded?"


    "Yes."


    "We sent another to your post. The second pulse has just begun, but it will stop soon."


    "I saw the other side of it, a different world. The Cold." Mall-ik felt hiding the truth was pointless and could only endanger Sophie and her father. "I flew into the rift. There I saw a creature. We talked. She followed me home and attacked with using only words." He needed to mitigate what he''d just said; it was not the entire truth. "She is not dangerous, she is kind. The pain was uneven...."


    "Shut-up!" interrupted another Metil. "You use the term ''attacked,'' please explain." Slowly the large hall was filling with hundreds of Metils phasing in through the walls.


    Mall-ik tried his best to describe the events as they transpired. His larger size helped get their attention. He did keep the personal attraction to Sophie and her father to himself. He liked the girl, they would not. He knew better than to lie or deceive the Group, but they could figure some things out by themselves. He explained she was a child, brave and scared, living in a ship traveling in the space of their world. He had close contact to the anomaly, seen the lights, and then connected with a light pattern. Of course, Mall-ik left out what was unknown to him. He did not know the girl slept and he had somehow fallen into her dreams. He described to the Metils Sophie''s world as Wonderland.


    "So life exists in The Cold?"


    "Most definitely."


    "Are they belligerent?"


    "I cannot say, but the one I contacted was not. A child, like me. Scared."


    "Yet she hurt you, crossed between worlds. None of this is possible. What you describe is fiction. You survived in the tale because of your cowardice. Your actions were idiotic and reckless. What you say is impossible and illogical, yet you stand here. She would have returned. Masters of the Nexus are clear, nothing or no one can cross between worlds."


    Another voice spoke. "We must assume he uncovered a new life. It is doubtful you found a second Nexus or a new singularity. The tale is impossible. He did not cross and open the way for this powerful creature." The voice was not pleasant. "We have been misled."


    "Enough!" said a different and deeper voice from a corner. "We will have time to debate and analyze after the rifts close. For the moment, careful observation and data collection are prime." It was right. "The rift will stay open only a fixed period of time. We need more information." The next words were for Mall-ik. "Bastard, you will accompany us in restraint as a prisoner." He was still weak. "You were given simple instructions to stay at a safe distance and report. You violated your orders, and we do not know if this foolhardy attempt must be rewarded or punished. You are placed on probation and suspension. You are losing energy. If you die, we will take the data from your memory. Your death is of no consequence."


    Mall-ik was hurt, but he was no longer dying. The young creature was fine with the punishment, he''d expected worse. A much larger streaming device was brought into the room. An expert operated it. In a blink, the entire delegation made of hundreds of Metils shifted to an area close to the rupture in space. There in space was the second rift. It was like the first but only bigger.


    "What magic?!" yelled the leader. The Metil army next to the rift was impressive. One soldier was floating closer to the rift. The edges of the flat plate from which zexs poured appeared to be unstable. The light and edge changed size from a square to a rectangle. This second rift appeared to Mall-ik to be equally inviting.


    "Bastard! Was the anomaly moving this way when you last saw it?" The mirror was advancing in space.


    "I do not recall."


    "Useless group of deformed particles," murmured the creature to itself.


    "Sorry. I don''t recall."


    "Silence!"


    The soldier in the distance was instructed to advanced slowly, avoiding the zexs and entering the rift.


    "Boy, where you when you entered?" asked the army leader.


    "I don''t..." he began.


    "I will dismantle you myself." The Group was losing patience with him.


    A second soldier was instructed to float closer to the rift, the first guard was a speck between the zexs. This was suicidal. Then, in a flash, the first volunteer was pulverized by a zex shot out of the rift. An instant later there was an explosion, a small shockwave. The wave spread out through the Purple, pelting them all. Loose rocks were pushed from some of the Metils. Apparently, Mall-ik had been lucky to survive.


    Mall-ik felt like this shockwave was his only chance to escape his captors. He needed to be reunited with Sophie. No one would follow him to the rift. The restraints were not really adapted to hold his larger body, and with a push, he slid out of them.


    He felt some urgency, a gut feeling. If he stayed here, he would die. They would never believe him. The rift was about to close. He felt like he needed to go back to the ship. He did the only thing he could do: he moved to the only place in the galaxy where these people would not follow. He ran to the rift. The army watched in horror as he did.


    In seconds, Mall-ik was gone.


    As he passed the veil between worlds, an impossible task, there was a strange feeling of homecoming.


    He cried.

 Chapter 18: The Return

    Sophie awoke from Wonderland to a commotion aboard the long spaceship. As usual, her dreams were a blur, but she knew the last one was stranger than usual. The color purple flashed. She stretched as the images faded except a firefly. She looked out of the window; nothing but darkness, sparkled with starlight. Instead, the stars were moving slowly. Everyone around her was nervous. Some piece of equipment in the back of the ship was not working properly. The attendants were not wearing their magnetized boots and were flying haphazardly around the cabin, grabbing little things and collecting flying objects.


    Amidst all this frenetic activity, in her heart Sophie was rather calm. Her mind had a strange buzz to it, like waking out of a very deep sleep. Most of the time, she felt out of sync with others around her. Her space-sadness was gone; she felt refreshed and almost hopeful. Something or better yet, someone was here. As she looked around at the worried faces, she wondered why she felt distant, as if part of her was still dreaming.


    She felt herself in a strange world, questioned by rude ball creatures. Unlike Mall-ik, Sophie''s bond with a different dimension was taking time to fade. Deep down she knew the ship was in no real danger. Whatever was the cause of her daze, she was fine with it.


    Adults liked to worry. It seems there had been a handful of very small little bumps, no cracks or noises, yet alarms had gone off, and panic resonated from every living soul around her. Everything was slowly returning back to normal except for the stars outside the ship. They were moving, but moving sideways. She wondered why adults disliked space turbulences so much. On a normal plane, she remembered once, a bump sent everything in the air, yet the adults were the ones telling her to calm down.


    "Please remain seated as we stabilize the ship. This should take an hour or two," said the captain''s voice. She liked Captain Judy, the woman had a great uneven smile.


    Sophie was too young to fear death, she never had given it any real consideration. Her mother was dead, and her father was inches from it. The fat alcoholic comedian, W.C. Fields had said on the Electoral channel, "Don''t worry about your heart, it''s going to last you until you die." He was funny. She slid on an earpiece, and as classical music filled her world, she saw the activity return to normal.


    The people around her were busy bees. She was done of the trip. This craziness and the media attention was just beginning, and it was already tiring. The Electoral adventure was beginning, and she knew she had to brace for more. It was now October 17th, and the finale was scheduled in more than a month on her birthday, on November 21st, 2072. Sophie knew that a strange new hotel awaited them and the contestants on the red planet. Her Wonderland book was floating inches above her lap. She liked the Alice character; they had so many things in common. When she grew up, she wanted to live on a farm and surround herself with animals.


    She remembered parts of her dream. Some of the images flashed back. There was a light, a firefly, but it was red -- no -- purple! Then it fled her mind. That was the nature of dreams. The firefly in the dream spoke, it was a boy, she remembered that.


    "This is bad!" said the reporter sitting next to Sophie. The lady was obviously nervous. Drops of sweat were forming on her forehead.


    "What?" asked the young girl finally talking to her neighbor. The journalist wasn''t talking to her; she was generally outraged and ranting blindly. An Asian lady was talking to small floating cameras mere inches from her face. The cameras were broadcasting the situation outside the ship. The moment Sophie spoke, one of the flying cameras turned to capture her expression. Before they could exchange formalities, the light above each turned to red.


    Sophie did not want to be filmed. The floating camera quickly turned back toward the journalist. The reporter, Milly Wong, smiled at Sophie and continued. "Moments ago, this ship was rocked by a strong impact emanating from the Light Drive, located at the aft of the ship. The impact sent us spinning, which in space is highly dangerous."


    Sophie looked outside. The stars were moving sideways. The cockpit door was closed. The stars had been immobile since their launch; she took a closer look at them. What she saw next was beautiful, in the distance, was a small blue star. That was Earth. From this distance, it was the most fragile and lovely thing she had ever seen. The blue was not shy, it gleamed like cobalt, even if the half-light. The sight could leave no one cold. Slowly, the earth moved across her horizon as the ship continued to tumble. The yellow sun followed in tow.


    For the first time, she realized where she was, in deep space. On the speakers, to calm the passengers, music began to play. Sophie was too young to recognize Mozart. The Earth took almost a minute to move from the left to the right. The ship''s captain was using little micro-bursts on the wings to counter the drive''s earlier turbulence to slow the ship''s rotation.


    As calm slowly returned to the cabin, the annoying journalist kept talking at the camera, working herself and her viewers into a panic. Sophie lost sight of earth but then saw a much larger red disk slide into view from the right. It was deep red and orange in parts, half the size of the sun at this distance, it had a scarred smile across its center. This planet''s nickname of ¡°the mysterious one¡± was appropriate. From where she stood, the disk had noticeable geological features. Her imagination transformed the disk into the purple smiling face of the Cheshire Cat from Wonderland.


    "So nice," she whispered to herself. The buzzing camera caught the footage.


    She opened the compartment under her seat and pulled out a rolled-up piece of plastic, it was her school tutor. Once unfolded it and the screen blinked in all colors as it booted. This student was late on her assignments. As the red disk made its way slowly, she typed the word "Mars." The multi-media presentation included a travel-guide and a three-dimensional map. Little arrows pointed at the landmark features of what it called "the ruby of the solar system." She held up the guide up next to the window to compare it to the red planet as it moved across the night. She matched the features and smiled. If only her father could see this.


    Sophie was happy. For the moment the journalist was keeping to herself. Her broadcast was concluded. The lady was nervous. She pulled a mirror, powdered her nose and made sure her teeth were free of the deep red lipstick. The Asian lady got up, pulled out a microphone, and went forth into the cabin to interview the most hysterical people she could find.


    Then Sophie saw it again: a little red flashing light, her Firefly. As quickly as it came, it was gone. She recalled a portion of her dream. It had been there. On her tutor, she searched for possible space creatures, for Mars and fireflies and found nothing. This was sad. There were no animals on Mars or even in space. Why go visit that place, she wondered. The adults called it a desert, but back on Earth, she knew there were snakes and scorpions in the desert. The tutor was clear, there was no life on Mars. Somehow, Sophie did not believe that.


    A man in the economy class began to panic and hyperventilate. Others around him unclipped their restraints and drifted away to give him room to breathe. In a confined space, distance was a courteous gesture. The man began to yell. The doctor rushed over. The passenger was holding his head with both hands, and in the blink of an eye, he collapsed lifelessly. In space, this meant his body began to float.


    Sophie saw the doctor and nurse fly out of the infirmary and go to the man. They were holding a bag of equipment. Sophie''s mind was still in a haze. Slowly she was coming back from the dream. What the young passenger knew was that no one was left in the infirmary to take care of her dad. She could be useful keeping an eye on her father. She unbuckled, and thanks to her small size pushed away floating like a bullet toward the back of the ship. The medical staff was busy trying to fasten the limp body into his seat before administering a defibrillator. Dr. Susie Shin looked and saw Sophie enter the infirmary but had more important matters to attend.


    The man was experiencing convulsions, loss of consciousness and his pupils were dilated asymmetrically. His sclera had turned from white to a disturbing bloodshot crimson. He had been a victim of severe internal head trauma. "Help me get him to the back," she snapped. Slowly they moved the floating body to the infirmary. Inside, the doctor acknowledged Sophie with a nod of the head, and Sophie confirmed with a thumb that her father''s vitals were fine. Dr. Shin gave instructions to the nurse as she worked desperately to unwrap equipment from plastic.


    "I need electrodes!" The wrappers were now floating. Sophie felt like something odd was going on, as if the world was slowing down. She watched the doctor work in slow motion. She was returning to her earlier haze. The infirmary had smaller windows. Outside, against the darkness of space, Mars returned. Next to her, the unresponsive passenger was now strapped, lifeless, on a very small stretcher beside her father. A journalist was trying to enter the infirmary, but the doctor waved her away. Milly Wong filmed from a distance.


    "What happened?" asked Sophie.


    The doctor hesitated, but she knew this girl had seen much worse. Another set of eyes could prove helpful, Shin told herself. "He''s dead. Keep an eye on your father. Don''t touch anything. Make sure your father''s vitals don''t change."Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    "I can help," said the muffled voice of the journalist from the gym. The doctor looked up, saw the buzzing little flying cameras and just shook her head. The nurse handed Sophie a pad. Sophie was used to playing nurse. She had to empty her father''s bags, wash him and check the probes and electrodes on his head. "You let Sophie in!" implored the journalist. Sophie''s withering look back at the journalist forestalled any further comment from the woman.


    The doctor flashed equipment over the body. "So far I only see localized brain damage, the body seems fine," said Dr. Shin, "His heart just stopped, and it won''t restart." The weightlessness made her work much more difficult, but her training kicked in. Sophie liked Dr. Shin. "Hold his arm down." The girl did as asked. Sophie looked at the man, there was something odd about him.


    "What type of brain damage?"


    The doctor would have ignored anyone, but earth''s sweetheart was the closest thing to a daughter the doctor had. The doctor trusted this girl, she was special and, without doubt, gifted. Sophie had had to care for a living corpse for months. "This is no stroke or blood clot."


    "Right here!" Sophie pointed at a white point on a screen.


    "Yes." The doctor looked at the image, it was an MRI of the man''s brain. "This lobe behind the cortex just... It''s like...." She was having a problem finding the right words. "It burst into flames. A very small zone, right here. Then a complete failure of cerebral activity."


    "Burnt?"


    "Yes. Lacking better terms, this man was lobotomized."


    "Is that bad?" asked the girl.


    "Yes. It could be worse, though. At least we know it''s not a virus. Then he''d still be dead, and we might have an outbreak on our hands."


    "Could it be a firefly?"


    The question startled the doctor. This was a child''s question, yet it was strangely relevant. She took a moment to respond. "Why, yes, that''s the right size, a firefly; I guess. Strange of you to say that."


    Before the doctor could regroup and ask Sophie why she had made the suggestion, a voice spoke on the intercom. "Doctor, what''s going on?"


    Dr. Shin tapped a red button on her earpiece. "Judy, we have a dead passenger here. Cause of death unknown. Some brain damage, it seems." The doctor was talking to the ship''s Captain, Judy Arrigoni.


    "What''s the cause?" asked the Captain.


    "Again, for the moment, unknown."


    "Anyone or anything else?"


    The doctor looked out the door of the infirmary, past the journalist into the main cabin. "That seems to be it. Just one passenger."


    "A player?" asked the Captain.


    "How should I know?" replied the Doctor almost in protest. The man was wearing an Electoral 2072 bracelet given to each contestant of the game. "I believe so."


    "Susie," began the Captain "make sure you upload all data to the mainframe. I want the doctors back home to help you if they can. The last thing I need is a panic. Do it as fast as you can, we are on a sixteen-minute delay, and I am sure one of those damn journalists have already sent images of this down to earth." Milly Wong, the CNN lead journalist, was filming.


    "Captain," began the doctor, eyes on a camera filming her, "That''s a solid guess. Not much I can do here. We need to get this guy to a hospital back home." The moment the words came out of her lips, she knew she should not have said that. They were going to mars. Nothing short of the Black Plague could change the flight path of this ship. "Sorry Judy, I''ll take care of it and notify the next of kin as well."


    "It''s a bit early for that. Let''s not upset our passengers. If you run out of options, try to notify the Electoral center. Marilyn may have insights on what just happened. She''s protective of her players. Go ahead and give her the medical data if she wants it. She knows the human brain like no one else. Otherwise, wait for my instructions. Let''s keep this all information restricted to essential personnel for the moment." Sophie smiled at the doctor and crossed a finger over her lips as a sign to indicate that she would keep silent. Doctor Shin really liked the girl, but then again, so did everyone else.


    Then it happened.


    The body of Sophie''s father jerked as if he just had a heart attack. Laurent''s body had not moved by itself in well over two months.


    "Daddy!" The girl threw herself over the body. The doctor immediately removed a small round sensor from the head of her deceased patient and put it on the head of Laurent above the permanent sensor. His body jerked again. "Sophie, I see a spike of cerebral activity.¡± Dr. Shin pointed. ¡°Here. Exactly at the same place."


    What is going on?"


    "Make sure he doesn''t move." As always, Dr. Shin was impressed by Sophie''s composure.Before meeting the girl, she wouldn''t have wagered a nickel that a twelve-year-old child could remain this calm given the circumstances. "Wait," said the doctor watching the monitor, "another spike." Sophie could read the monitor: it read ¡°Neuroactivity at 419%¡±.


    "What''s going on?" repeated the young girl.


    "Your father''s vitals," Dr. Shin replied. Sophie was truly exceptional, and Dr. Shin knew for a fact that the girl knew Laurent''s unique readings like no one else. The fact that she''d even asked what the reading meant was merely a small, uncalculated measure of diplomacy to a friend, elder, and professional. Dr. Shin continued, "Great news, his numbers are going down back to normal."


    Sophie reached for the virtual-reality glasses, grabbed them. "I have to go in!"


    "Sophie," snapped the Korean woman with the unmistakable tone of a tiger mother, "You are not! Don''t even think about it." The doctor was reading hundreds of screens on every piece of equipment. Dr. Shin looked once again at the brain MRI display. She examined it very carefully. ¡°There was no visible firefly effect."


    "Will daddy be okay?"


    "His body and vitals are back to normal, for him. His cerebral activity is off his charts, though. The last thing your dad needs is more cerebral activity. You don''t need to add to it." The jerking of Laurent''s body stopped.


    The doctor pushed the button of the ship intercom. "Judy, we have a second case."


    "Who?"


    "Mr. Lapierre. Laurent." The doctor tested the cerebral activity. "But the case is much better, whatever is going on, Laurent seems to be handling it much better. Monitor the other players, I''m busy here."


    "You can''t stop me," Sophie muttered, the dark glasses still in her hand. "I need to help him." The doctor shot a stern look her way, grabbed the glasses from her hand. The moment she did, she regretted it. She knew the doctor was right and found the woman''s strong maternal instincts reassuring.


    "Sophie, don''t fight me. On board, the doctor really has the last word. We need to make sure your dad is fine. Please believe me, the last thing he needs is more mental stimulation. You know that any outside input to his brain will do just that. In fact, I''m considering forcing him into an REM state to keep his cerebral activity as low as possible. I need to make sure this is localized and not somehow communicable. I''m afraid we''re in quarantine until we know better."


    Sophie, with great reluctance, grabbed the glasses back from the doctor and clipped them back on the hook. The doctor ran tests for another half-hour. No other ¡°firefly effect¡± cases materialized within the ship. Finally, Susie pushed the intercom button. "Captain, whatever happened to Mr. Gresens almost happened to Laurent Lapierre. The two events appear to be related. Laurent is handling it fine. His brain activity is stable but at four times his normal level. On the scanner, this looks like something is targeting a specific part of these men''s brains. Laurent seems to have survived it, but we need more information to diagnose anything at this point."


    The Captain spoke gently, "I don''t like what I''m hearing. Whatever ever this thing is, it jumped from one patient to another. Lock down the infirmary until we know what ¡°this¡± is. No one gets in or out. Both you and your nurse seem immunized. Make sure Sophie does not walk in for any reason, the last thing we need is to kill the first young space tourist..." The doctor stepped out of the intercom camera''s way revealing the smiling girl. There was a long silence. Obviously, the captain was unhappy. Judy ended the communication.


    "Judy''s under a lot of stress," offered the doctor to the girl. The doctor slipped open little packages and hooked up additional electrodes to Laurent''s body.


    On all screens, including the intercom and the medical equipment appeared the face of Marilyn Monroe. The image of the dead movie star was not smiling."Doctor, I have been monitoring your situation." The movie character from the 50''s was dressed as a nurse. "You are doing a wonderful job. I will offer any assistance you need."


    "Can you revive patient zero?"


    "No. I tried already. He was lobotomized."


    "What is it?"


    "Nothing known to mankind." Doctor Shin knew the artificial intelligence was surgical about her choice of words.


    "Glad to have you around, Marilyn," said the captain''s voice over the intercom.


    "What is wrong with daddy?" Sophie asked the screen next to her. Maybe Marilyn knew.


    The digital creature''s response was not as useful as Sophie had hoped. "Sophie, it pains me to say this, but I have no idea as of yet what is going on in this ship. Doctor, we will need to run some more tests. Can you connect six flat sensors to the base of Mr. Lapierre''s neck?" The doctor immediately began ripping open the sensor packages. "Sophie, it is too early to say, but I can say this much: his mind kicked me out of the main cortex activity when the condition began."


    "What do you mean?"


    "As you know, your father''s mental activity is rather faint. Before this moment, no one but he and I knew that I have been helping him, and he has been relying on some of my deep core operating systems to boost his signal efficiency to generate the digital world in which he lives. Alone he does not generate enough energy to sustain that house he lives in. Whatever happened moments ago forced me, and very likely the constructs I was aiding him to build, out of his mind."


    "I am sorry, but I still don''t understand?" Sophie spoke for everyone in the infirmary.


    "Laurent uses me as a crutch. I gave him enough power so he could function. We are now detached, he is on his own for the first time in months. I am worried for him, but I agree with the doctor''s conclusion. Whatever is in his mind, the last thing he needs is one of us in there. Sophie, we need to run more tests. I don''t know what is happening."


    "You don''t know?"


    "You cannot realize the importance of what I am to say here, but... yes. I don''t know. I am very powerful now; anticipation has become something of an autonomic response for me these days. Much like you breathe, or your heart beats. The same goes for both reasoning and deduction. This is the first time since 2054 that I not only failed to predict such a problem but have also failed to immediately arrive at a sufficient explanation given this much time afterward. But give me a day or two. I do think you are somehow linked to this situation and therefore Laurent will be fine."


    The answer from Marilyn, mankind''s most powerful computer, was almost as strange as her father''s new condition. Sophie knew something very peculiar was happening. Droplets of sweat were forming on Laurent''s forehead. In his head, he was not having a great day.


    ¡°Sophie,¡± added Marilyn, ¡°darling, get used to things going crazy around you. I know this entire story barely begins.¡± She cut the feed before Sophie had a chance to respond.

 Chapter 19: Horror

    True Biological Darkness.


    Laurent Lapierre''s internal digital world vanished.


    Abruptly, the veranda on which he''d been rocking his chair, along with the entire Victorian house and the digital backdrop collapsed inward and disappeared out of existence. Even though he had no eyes with which to see, a sort of mental afterimage remained, as if he''d been in a dark room when a camera flash had gone off. The world in which he had been living for over two years turned a blackness of death. To him, in this faster reality it had been fourth years since the accident. Someone or something had pulled a giant plug, or better yet, he was finally dead.


    He was alone, on the doorstep of death.


    A cold wind blew through his soul.


    He knew this place; he remembered this feeling of dread.


    He had been here before and had prayed fervently to never return. This place was much worse than death, it was personalized torture.


    Before Sophie had rescued Laurent and allowed Electoral to generate for him a digital world in which his mind could take up residence, he had wandered in this nightmarish darkness for what felt to him like a maddening eternity. From ambulance accident in Benton Harbor, he had been trapped in between worlds for months. In this awful place, time twisted and dilated, leaving minutes feeling like epochs.


    There was here ample pain, maddening suffering, and nothing else.


    The only reprieve from the darkness were nightmare images shown to him in endless loops. If Hell existed, this was it.


    Then there was a first sound of a tree cracking in a wet forest.


    This was it, he was back in Hell.


    For all purposes, he was once again a putrefying vegetable.


    No one knew it, but Electoral was the linchpin for Laurent''s psyche. One day, the artificial intelligence walked in his mind, as though a doctor in a patient''s room, and bluntly informed him of his current circumstances. She told him the amount of bio-electricity being generated by his brain was too low for him to survive in any normal or abnormal state of consciousness. His mind was only generating a fraction of a watt of energy, well below any lower limit that science required of a living, sentient entity. But Electoral, the artificial intelligence called Marilyn had an idea and an offer.


    He knew the artificial intelligence was right. He needed help; in this hell, he could feel his sanity on the verge of snapping completely. Soon, his mind would be the same charred wreck that his body had become. "Think of your girl," she said, "I need her happy, and only you can offer that. She is important to this world, to the Multiverse." The words ran true with the loving and desperate father. Electoral agreed to generate most of his world, to help him expand his horizon, and to source the energy that fueled his visions. She gave him a digital life raft in the middle of a sea of shadows. All she wanted in return was secrecy. Sophie needed a father, and the white lie of their collaboration was a small price to pay to give his little girl some semblance of her father''s return. Laurent agreed to omit the extent of Electoral''s complicity in his recovery, and if necessary, to lie about it.


    Father¡¯s did not lie easily to their prodigal child unless they were convinced the deception favored the child. Sophie wanted a father, not a whisper of digital activity.


    Finding himself once again in the frightful, mind-warping darkness was too much to handle. Laurent was forced to admit to himself he had forgotten how much the artificial intelligence had really been helping him. Somehow his link with Electoral had been severed. In years, it had never happened before, but she had warned it would be possible. Otherwise, he might conclude he had finally died and that Hell had swallowed him whole.


    Marilyn had also warned him that during the ship''s Mars atmospheric entry, there could be interference and he might lose the connection. He was surprised by his own inability to generate even a single light. He tried to imagine a match, fire, or to form one lamp, but there was nothing, nothing. He was, once again, alone at the door of death.


    He waited. Focused. He tried to create a candle, a star, a smell.


    Nothing.


    He waited some more. Concentrated. Used every ounce of strength he possessed.


    Still nothing but the noises.


    Slowly, fear and shivers returned. His deep despair and depression, ensconced deep within his psyche, waxed and flourished in the dark as a plant might draw in light. He was a husk of a man, a speck of neural activity only inches from the grave. Laurent knew he was a mere whisper of life, one that continued to echo for the sole purpose of providing a little girl with a father. In his rising panic, all that he could think of was that someone or something had just taken away his last hope. He was once again alone in a decaying brain. Dead, rotting, and unable to serve even his modest hope to be present. However, he might, for Sophie.


    The dark feelings continued their unimpeded march to the fore of his mind. He felt cold, dampness, and smelled decay. Laurent''s body was clinically dead; it had been years since he last felt anything physical, much less was able to use his sense of smell, but here... In this nightmare, the bad sensations returned, the suicidal ones. He had been unable to conjure anything so simple as a soft glow under his digital constructs, but it seemed his torn and battered biological ones were more than up to the task.


    Electoral had once explained to him that a positive dreaming state required control and effort, more so than a negative one, much like a smile requires more facial muscle activity than an angry expression. A nightmare, like sadness and depression, is a more natural state of the subconscious than a happy dream. He doubted any of that applied to himself, at present. He had transgressed, slipped back to his primal self, and there was nothing he could do. This was not about energy, control, effort, or will. He was just a bad father, and this was the Hell he deserved. No, this was about justice.


    As he suspected, his mental anguish, which was doubling and redoubling by the second, was a prelude to the return of the physical pain. He was unable to see his body, but he felt like every one of his bones had been broken and dipped into acid. He began to see flashes of bad memories. A kaleidoscope of images fought each other for the honor of haunting him.


    "Marilyn?" he begged in the dark.


    There was no response. He was alone. He knew it. This was pointless.


    "Marilyn?" he tried again.


    Saying the name of his daughter as too hard. Maybe the ship had just exploded, and he was either dead or dying in space as Sophie''s lifeless body floated nearby. He wondered what could have happened in the real world, to cause the rupture in the connection. Was his daughter alright? The question gnawed at him remorselessly. He could not know with any certainty if he was finally dead. At this point, knowing whether he was dead or alive was a purely academic question. He was here, in the dark, and he had to deal with that. It was a sharp reminder that these moments with Sophie in the interface were unnatural; a gift given both before and after he was gone.


    The best-case scenario was that Electoral was just temporarily unable to access him, and she would soon return. He took hope in that. They were close to Mars, and Marilyn lived there. He knew his brain was now operating at elevated speed, serving to slow his perception of time. God knew how long he would have to survive here until help returned if return it did. Months could go by for him between Sophie''s daily visits, even if Electoral re-established the link in hours from Mars, he could expect to be lost in this Hell for an inconceivably long period of perceived time.


    He had to brace for the worst. The bad dreams were coming, and he would have to endure them. He had to preserve his sanity for his return to the game, and more importantly, his daughter.


    Then, like a hissing fog coalescing into a raging downpour, the nightmares returned.


    In the distance, Laurent heard dogs growling and snapping in rage. Dead flesh was being ripped from bones, human bones. Laurent hated dogs; as a child, he had been attacked by one. For this reason, his nightmares always began with them. He knew this particular nightmare. It was one of the worst. He concentrated, took deep breaths as Electoral had shown him, and tried some mental exercises. Nothing worked. Waking nightmares were worse than sleeping ones. They kept repeating themselves in loops until the dreamer gave up. If the dreamer was not instantly overwhelmed by fear, he was ground down by the combination of repetition and terror.


    In the dark, the beasts were circling, getting closer. He could hear them.


    In nightmares, emotions ran wild and unconstrained. Here, the brain''s control function was different; more primal. Depression was nothing more than a person''s barrier between dream and fading reality. He could not die, but he could most certainly suffer at extreme length. In this prison, he could watch himself be torn limb from limb, yet remain conscious. This was Laurent''s own private horror movie, custom flavored by his own mind, with a hard glaze of physical pain.


    He began to shiver, the cold rain was hitting the leaves of the damp forest around him. The noise of the drops grew to deafening slaps. In the darkness, behind, appeared shades of gray, dead things. Dying things. The forest itself was rotting, the bark of the trees was covered by fetid mold. In this darkness, all of his natural senses returned. Commonly, this would be a welcomed feeling, but in this place, it was anything but.


    Mud covered a small path leading to the dam cemetery. He knew this place. He had been here hundreds of times, and each time he pushed the gate open, the experience grew worse. He walked up the path, the socks in his shoes sponging up the brackish water rushing in to sit coldly between his toes. He pushed thorny branches away, only to have them slap back at him with the force of a whip crack.


    Even at his most desensitized, leprous state, this trifecta of emotion, imagery, and pain was capable of breaking him. After years in the comfortable Electoral-generated paradise, he was defenseless. Torture was not about pain, it was about hopelessness. Anyone could endure pain when it was temporary. Chronic, hand-built, custom-made conditions, all designed by his own mind to create said hopelessness was another animal altogether. Laurent gathered himself and tried to count his blessings.


    Unlike the last time, he was here, this time he knew Electoral existed and would help him when she could. Her return might not occur for days or months, but he knew she would be back. Laurent was alive, Sophie was alive, in those things he could comfort himself. Unless we aren''t, the rebellious, nightmarish half of himself cackled in response. He grimaced inwardly. Maybe the ship was gone and his daughter dead in the cold of space.


    There was no running away from the visions. He had tried so many times. Ahead of him was a path, he had to walk it. Unless he did, he might be dragged down it, flooded through it, or carried apart in pieces and reassembled at his destination. He arrived at the cemetery. Laurent pushed a rusty gate. The hinges let fly a long, groaning wail. It was despair made of sound. On the ground, slugs were sticking to damp leaves. The place was sad, so sad. He knew the way, of course. He walked to two crooked tombstones, a large one alongside with a smaller one. They were old and moldy; it had been decades since anyone had visited this place. In the center, the large stone read:Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    2041-2070 Susan Thompson Lapierre


    He closed his eyes. Susan was his dead wife, Sophie''s mother. Images of the accident on that horrible night began to flicker through his mind. He saw a road, slick from the falling rain, the auto-pilot was somehow broken. This was too much. Susan did not deserve to die in a stupid road accident. He had been driving, it was his fault, not the cars.


    He saw himself drive. His car hit a railing, and a beam of metal sliding in through the passenger door. Images of Susan''s severed head flashed before his eyes. In the back of the car, Sophie, only ten, was crying hysterically, her face now splattered with her mother''s blood. The metal beam crossed both sides of the car and, after killing Susan, had impaled him in the legs, pinning him down. The impact was so severe that the rotation of the steering wheel had broken his hands. Once the vehicle rested at the base of the hill, smoke began to fill the car. The interior of the vehicle was an abattoir of crimson.


    He opened his eyes.


    He was back in the cemetery. The headstone was a monument to his shame. He had been the one driving that night. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. He could feel them. He should have died along with his wife on that day. You could also say that Sophie, his sweet girl, metaphorically died that day. The person attending to his carcass in the spaceship was not the same carefree little girl.


    In the cemetery stood another tombstone next to his wife''s, a smaller one. Each time he read it, his heart sank:


    "Unborn brother of Sophie."


    At the time of the accident, Susan was eight months pregnant with Sophie''s brother. Because of the emotional trauma she had suffered that night, Sophie did not remember the accident; she had even forgotten her brother. That was a blessing, but Laurent could not forget. The crash was the last thing his real eyes had ever seen. To this day, he had never mustered the courage to tell Sophie about the child. She did not need to know. It was his shame, his burden, and it hurt.


    On that dreadful night, the family was on its way to the hospital when the crash happened. Susan''s contractions had begun. The steel railing that pierced Susan had no more respect for her child than it had for her or Laurent''s legs. It traversed and impaled her large belly as though it were made of air and not healthy flesh filled with life beyond its own. The sight of the water and blood gushing out of Susan''s body was beyond horror. The thought of the baby''s body being crushed and shoved into Laurent''s own was incomprehensible. This horrible image was the last thing Laurent saw on Earth. There were no words that could rightfully encapsulate or sufficiently describe those sights and emotions. They simply were. In the twisted cemetery of his mind''s eye, Laurent fell to his knees, weeping. He did so each time this nightmare played out, and each time it ate one more slice of his soul.


    He cried, unceasingly, for a long, long time. He cried for poor Susan, for their unborn son, and for Sophie. He cried.


    No, he thought to himself. Help was coming. He needed to take control, to find a way to help himself hang on before it was too late and his mind consumed itself. He could still help guide and protect Sophie, even from within his virtual reality. There was the game to win. Yet, even as he acknowledged these bright spots, his mental and physical anguish reattached themselves up to even new heights. It was a bad sign that even with hope, he was unable to keep the nightmares and pain at bay.


    A pale moon lit up the scene in front of him, revealing an old rotting wooden house in the distance. He now had to walk there. This was the next scene of the elaborate torture.


    Resolved, Laurent pushed himself up to his feet. He started along the rock-strewn path, stumbling and falling several times on the rounded wet stones. It was at this point the dogs from the woods re-engaged him, with a large black dog lunging at him from out of nowhere. As he tried to avoid the creature, he fell and hit the ground with a loud thump, and in a second the wet, stinking animal was all over him. He wrestled the dog and kicked it away. His face and hands were now covered in his own blood. His skin was ripped in multiple places from deep bites. Aside from the pain they engendered, he didn''t care overmuch. He very much doubted that he could die at all here from conventional means. No, the only danger this dream held for him was much more subtle and complete.


    The wooden house at the end of the path reminded Laurent of a skull. It had a dark V-shaped roof, windows in place of eyes and a dirty porch as its hideous, grinning mouth. There would be no disinfecting the black mold that was caked in layers on the building; the cracking mess needed to be burned down to the ground. He had tried, but his subconscious mind apparently knew his conscious one better than the opposite, and he was always defeated by either the stifling humidity or a sudden cloudburst. Laurent shivered; he knew what to expect next. Behind every door was a masked killer ready to drag him by the feet to the basement, where he would be dismembered using an ever-evolving cast of tools into the lifeless body he was in real life. Once he was sawed down to nothing, his daughter Sophie would walk in, see him as a pile of bloody mess, and try to help as the monster raped her. All Laurent could do at that point in the nightmare was howl silently.


    The idea that a mind becomes desensitized to the same horror if relives was untrue. He knew it. Instead, like torture, it simply got worse and worse until madness took over. When Electoral found him in his nightmares a couple of years ago, he was a shell of himself, walking endlessly in these mists. There wasn''t much of his mind left to salvage.


    In his private, time-accelerated world, it took Electoral, acting as a therapist, years before Laurent''s mind was strong enough to face Sophie in his new digital reality. He owed a lot to both Electoral and Melanie Bradford, a therapist Marilyn hired to help him. Today he found himself missing Melanie. She had given him tools for the next time he found himself in this predicament.


    As his mind found refuge in the recollection of the therapist, he saw a large wooden peg outside in the front yard of the house. Impaled on it was the rotting corpse of Melanie. The nightmares hated hope and spared no image. Every defense mechanism he deployed was quickly dissected and viciously countered by his subconscious.


    As he had worked to get back his sanity, Sophie had aged a year. He never let her see this side of him. She deserved that much, at the very least. He now lived only for her. Looking at the house, he wondered what Sophie would say to him, she would tell him to stay strong. He forced a smile on his face and walked up the stairs.


    The nightmare resumed, but this time there was a change.


    A bolt of lightning flashed in the sky far above in the clouds. The bolt wasn''t blue or white. Instead, it was shades of purple. There was no thunder, just a hissing sound as part of the bricks of the chimney exploded in hundreds of red sparks like a welder fixing a naval vessel. The spark-like bricks did not immediately cool off, and like fireflies, they flew down until they touched the ground.


    This event was not in the typical script of the nightmare. There was a second bolt, a brighter one, like a shooting star, which came crashing down through the roof of the house. Planks went flying. Something had arrived, he felt it. In the air, Laurent smelled ozone. In his heart, the horror was tainted by puzzlement. Someone was here sharing his nightmare. To Laurent, it could only be Electoral. He had to find her.


    The light gave him hope, but this sensation was premature. The nightmare resumed a heartbeat later. As if the house were a living organism, the roof healed. Planks jumped back up into place. He had to keep his guard up; there was a chance he was in a different Hell, some new variant with a different ending. An instant later, he heard a scream deep in the house, a child''s scream. The screaming voice wasn''t Sophie''s.


    He ran up the hill to the porch and kicked the front door as hard as he could. In his nightmare, his body worked just fine, at least until something disfigured it beyond all hope movement. The back of the wood of the door slammed against the monster''s face. The role of tormentor was played by an agglomeration of every shitty horror movie he''d ever seen. The awful thing was all teeth, tentacles, scales, patches of bristly spider hair. The door slammed against the putrid bandaged face of a human. The miscreation grunted and dropped its bone saw. Laurent knew this butcher well, but today he did not care about him. If there was a child in this horrible place, he was going to find the poor thing. The door swung back his way on the hinges. He kicked it again and once again felt the thick door collide solidly with the creature''s misshapen skull. The monster grunted and stumbled backward as Laurent dashed into the house, toward the stairs.


    Laurent knew this house, every step of it, every rusted nail. He had bled and died here on every plank.


    There was another scream, but this time it was more discernible, a child, a boy upstairs.


    Laurent dashed up the rotten stairs. As expected, his foot shot right through a plank, and his leg went down up to the knee. Below the staircase, the hands of some other monster grabbed his foot. Laurent knew what to do. He pulled as hard as he could, then reversed the force and smashed down on the hairless, sharp-toothed, milky-white things that always lived under the steps. His heel hit the creature in the jaw, and it released his foot. At Laurent''s back, the first monster was already getting up. It was wearing a blood-soaked doctor''s mask.


    The monster had foregone its bone saw in favor of a curved meat hook. It swung the hook, landing a deep puncture to the middle of Laurent''s back. In real life, Laurent would have died, his spinal cord severed as he bled out, but this place was different. Laurent heard a third boyish scream; it still came from upstairs. Laurent did not care about himself, but the boy was in danger. He kicked out blindly toward his back and felt his foot connect with a loud thump. Successive thumps followed as the hook-wielding freak tumbled down the stairs.


    Laurent used both hands to pull himself up, then turned his attention to the hook in his back. He pulled it out with both hands, shivering in torment. He could still move, though. This was a dream and biology was sketchy at best. Further owing to this being a dream, he had at least a vague idea of what was to come next, even though he''d never experienced this particular scenario before. This was a chase scene so loved by the horror flicks. He was going to help the child. He did what might be considered ¡°normal¡± under those circumstances: he grabbed the back of the monster''s head and shoved the hook deep into the monster''s left eye. Black blood sprayed out, coating the stairs.


    The desperate father resumed his frantic climb to the second floor. At the top were several closed doors aligned on each side of a long hallway. The last door, at the end of the hallway, was ajar. There was a dim white light emanating from inside the partly opened door. This was another new element to the nightmare. Without pause, Laurent dashed to the door, half expecting the other doors to open and reveal some new threat as he passed, but they did not.


    He recognized this last room and peered through the cracked door. It was the bedroom of dead twin babies. In one corner were two empty baskets that normally rocked slowly as music from wound-up toys played. This was borrowed from a horror movie he had seen as a child. Laurent opened the door.


    A quick inspection showed in the middle of the room stood the immaterial shadow of a young boy surrounded by an aura of pure white light. The boy was inspecting his hands as if seeing them for the first time. Behind Laurent, limping down the hallway, the monster was coming closer, its meat hook still buried to the hilt the thing''s eye. In the room, the immaterial ghost of the boy was inspecting himself and appeared oblivious to danger around him. Laurent walked into the room and closed the door behind him. His body would have to suffice as an obstacle against the arrival of the monster. He''d buy the boy time.


    "Who are you?" asked Laurent. There was no answer. While holding the door in his back, Laurent extended his hand to help the boy step out of the light. He could hear the monster getting closer on the other side of the door. The monster began to kick. Soon, it ripped a large hole in the door, which it began expanding using additional kicks.


    "Who are you?" panted Laurent.


    The boy did not seem worried by the horror of his surroundings; he was busy observing his own body, as though fascinated by it. In the corner of the room was a large mirror covered by spider webs. The boy walked closer to the mirror as he remained surrounded by the light. The boy''s face was round, his hair was blond. The brightness of the light was slowly dissipating. His body was slowly taking material shape and entering this world.


    This strange situation did not seem to deter the monster on the other side of the door. It hit the door with the force of a tank. With all his strength, Laurent could barely keep the door from flying off its hinges. The monster switched back to the hook and began using it to tear away more chunks of wood. With each hit, a larger hole opened above Laurent''s shoulder. The butcher would soon break in. Laurent was entirely at a loss, now. This fit nothing within the range of his experience. He was completely overwhelmed by the situation.


    He needed to think fast. Electoral was still absent, and this helpless boy was here. The boy did not feel like everything else in the dream, that is, an element or character produced by his own mind. Laurent assumed the presence of both the boy and Electoral were mutually exclusive; to have the former appear just after the disappearance of the latter couldn''t be a coincidence. Electoral must have been forced out of his mind because of this boy, but as to why or how, he hadn''t a clue. His best guess was that somehow the boy was related to Electoral, a new entity born of Electoral''s ongoing research into artificial life. The boy''s reactions conveyed a certain level of intelligent unsophistication, like those of a newborn.


    It was the best theory that Laurent, in pain and afraid, could come up with. The aura must have been Electoral''s control over this environment. The power and the light were slowly fading away.


    The door was seconds away from being demolished, and the boy, still in danger, had to be protected. Using a foot, Laurent reached over and slid a corner of a large bed to hold the bottom portion of the door. "We have to go!" he shouted, frantically.


    The boy turned to look at him. For the first time, he seemed to interact with his environment. There was no answer, but also no fear. Laurent wondered where they could go that might possibly be safe. The only other way out was the partly boarded-up window. Between two pushes by the monster, he ran to the window and pulled a board off. Rusted nails barely held the planks in place. The others would have to break. The monster was slowly moving the bed out of the way.


    As the door opened, and the masked creature finally entered, Laurent reached into the light and grabbed the arm of the boy. His hand passed through the body of the boy as if he were a ghost. A solid object came down on the back of Laurent''s head. He lost consciousness.

 Chapter 20: The Angel

    When Laurent regained consciousness, he was still in the nightmare. His body was wracked by pain. Sophie¡¯s father was still lost in his dying mind, but his projected body was tied by heavy chains to a butcher''s table in the basement of the haunted house. The light and the boy were gone. The nightmare had resumed its flow as if the boy had never interrupted it.


    Above Laurent''s prone body lingered one of the masked killers. It was wearing dirty blue medical scrubs stained with dirt, oil, and blood. In its left hand, it was holding a tile grinding tool.


    The basement was dark and foul-smelling. A single light bulb flickered uncertainly from overhead. Laurent was still reeling from the encounter with the boy on the upper floor. He didn''t know what to think of it. Laurent looked around and saw he was alone with the beast. At least the monster was not torturing the boy or a simulacra of Sophie. With the push of a button, the grinder wheel began to spin with a monotonous high-pitched wail. The noise was intolerable, and the torture began at once.


    The next few minutes became hazy as Laurent''s world shrunk to the precise dimensions of conscious, rational thought that the tile grinder allowed him. The butcher took his time to cut away the skin and the bones of his legs. The pain was beyond maddening, but somehow in this dream state, Laurent did not pass out. He yelled and gibbered in agony for what felt like an eternity. As if to admire his work, the butcher regularly stopped cutting and took a step back while tilting its head. At some point, the ugly creature removed the blood-covered mask, revealing his mummified face. It licked some of the blood from the mask, smiled hideously, and resumed.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    This was pointless, Laurent thought. He''d only just arrived a few hours ago, by his best guess, and already he felt himself beginning to crack. He began to cry. He felt something else, as well: pure, unadulterated rage.


    Then the basement door creaked open.


    The sound was not part of the regular string of events of this nightmare, so it was a relief to the suffering Laurent. Unable to turn his head, Sophie''s father heard the footsteps of someone walking down the creaky stairs. The monster acted as if he did not hear the steps.


    From the corner of his eye, through the sweat and blood, Laurent saw the boy and part of his diffuse light descending the steps. The light around the boy was almost gone, but there remained a glow which filled the darkness of the basement. The boy stared detachedly at Laurent''s dismembered body as if he was unaware of the horror.


    "Get away," Laurent managed to croak. Most of his teeth were now broken, and he was spitting blood. "Save yourself."


    "Why?" answered the boy.


    "He will get you."


    "Who?"


    The grinder began buzzing again. The boy did not seem to hear its awful shrieking whine. That was a good thing.


    "Help me!" begged Laurent as the cutting tool dug into what remained of his left arm. Blood splattered the walls and oozed from his mouth. With rising panic, he realized he was losing grasp with reality.


    "You are Laurent? I saw you in her mind," spoke the angel. "You are the original progenitor of the one called Sophie?"


    Laurent was weak, barely conscious. The words hurt him. "Yes," he whispered as blood bubbled down his face. He saw the boy walk closer and touch him gently. The touch sent electrical current. There was an organic connection.


    Then there was silence.


    The horror and the nightmares evaporated.

 Chapter 21: Le Petit Prince

    Once more, Laurent swam back toward consciousness. This time, however, he awoke to find his body whole. The blood and the horror around him were gone. He was unsure of how long he had slept but counted each second of it as a blessing nonetheless. He was dressed in a long blue robe, and he stood barefoot on his favorite beach. Water and sand were crawling gently between his toes. This wasn¡¯t his ordinary reality, it felt more real.


    The young blond boy stood silently at his side, holding his right hand. Laurent looked down at his face. The young guest was dressed in a pair of white shorts and a worn out and over-washed t-shirt that might have once been light purple. The mysterious guest''s shorts and T-shirt were oddly familiar; looking at it from closer, they were once his. This was how Laurent liked to dress at home in his recliner. The borrowed version was a partly scaled-down version.


    Ahead the island peeking off a perfect sea was Bora-Bora, the was the most luxurious place on Earth. The surf was rolling in gently, carrying the warm water just to the edge of where they walked. The waxing tide softly brushed their feet as they strolled aimlessly. The feeling of water in and of itself was remarkable. After nearly fourth imaginary years without any feeling or sensation in his digital world, he felt human once more. An hour ago he would have scoffed over the notion that any artificial environment could best Electoral''s for accuracy and realism, yet here he walked, still marveling at the delicious sensation of warm water on his feet, an ocean breeze mussing his hair, and silky-fine sand between his toes.


    He slipped from Hell to Heaven in seconds.


    He smiled at his guest. Laurent stopped walking for a moment and twisting his ankles he dug his feet into the warm, wet sand. The boy loved to see Sophie''s father smile. There was no greater pleasure to him. The clean, tropically aroma of this place''s air filled his lungs. Laurent was in paradise, a complete reversal of fortune than the cemetery house basement from only a few moments ago. He felt stronger and more whole than he had in ages.


    He looked around and realized that not only was this next to Tahiti but more specifically, this was the beach that Marilyn often brought him to during his extremely delicate rehabilitation following his accident. In the distance was an irregular volcano that resembled nothing so much as the top of an ornate crown. The volcano featured a massive stone arch under which a small plane could fly. She liked to make an entrance, occasionally utilizing the archway for one of her trademark introductions. The arch, being something wholly of Electoral''s creation, confirmed for Laurent that he was still in the digital world and not somehow alive or in heaven. The trees of the forest to the right were lush and brimmed with the sound of animal and insect life.


    He could feel a consistent pulse of energy traveling up his right arm, from where the boy held him. It was clear that the boy was the source of this vision, and was somehow feeding it directly into Laurent''s brain as energy running up his arm. Even clothed with the form and trappings of humanity, it was obvious that this boy was different. The mere fact that the child''s first attempt at an immersive digital reality had outgunned Marilyn''s version spoke volumes. This was special on many levels.


    Laurent touched his own face; he was freshly shaved. No words came to him. He could only savor this reality. Laurent forced himself to turn his attention to his little savior. The kid was cute. Laurent was struck with the impression that the boy couldn''t decide whether to fall into his arms crying, or flash a brilliant smile and skip his way down the beach. His eyes were blue, his hair was now cut short. This was the same boy he had seen in the second floor of the rotten nightmare house, but the child was now more beautiful. He was radiant.


    Could this be some kind of digital offspring from Electoral? No other immediate possibilities came to mind.


    "Daddy?" asked the boy speaking from memory. Laurent smiled.


    "My name is Laurent Lapierre. You saved me. Thank you."


    "Are you Daddy?"


    "You may call me daddy if you want. That would be fine with me."


    "Sophie calls you Daddy. Where are we?"


    He wasn''t sure but ventured a guess. "We are both in my mind. I am a human who lives with his mind connected to virtual reality, though mine is not quite so...robust...as this one,¡± said Laurent as a close breaker threw forward a fine spray of mist.


    "I am confused. I do not understand."


    "You and I both my fortunate friend. I think we have a lot of time. I fear if you let my hand go, I may return to a bad place. For the moment, we must touch our hands, do you mind?"


    The boy released his grip carefully, and Laurent plunged immediately back into the darkness of the humid cemetery. He was back in horror. Seconds later, he felt the boy grab his hand, and he was back on the beach.


    "I do not understand," the boy repeated.


    "We have time," replied Laurent. "That is the one thing we have here. Why don''t you tell me your name, if you have one?"


    "Mall-ik. I am a Metal from the Purple world." As if the boy was under a compulsion to continue, he said, "Can you draw me a sheep?"


    "What?"


    "Can you draw me a sheep?"


    The sea was gone. They were no longer on a beach. Instead, they were in the middle of a nameless desert. He recognized the boy''s new appearance. He was The Little Prince, a character from one of Sophie''s favorite bedtime stories. This was strange. Laurent was somehow talking to a fictional character.He''d gone from a horror movie to a child''s bedtime story in the blink of an eye. In Laurent''s other hand was a long wooden stick, a shepherd''s staff. "Draw me a sheep," insisted the boy.


    Laurent drew something in the sand below their feet.


    "That is not a sheep."


    This was too strange. Was he playing some kind of imagery drawn from his own memories? Laurent found it difficult not to do as the boy asked, given that the child had saved him from the nightmare. So that he might draw better, he let go of the child''s hand. Instantly, he was back in the dark cemetery. In the distance, the wild dogs began to howl and bay as they caught his scent. Curiously, though, the boy was still standing next to him. He was oblivious to the horror of the place. The boy was pointing to the ground where Laurent had drawn a sheep. Laurent would not, could not, stay here; anywhere else was better. He grabbed the small hand and instantly returned back to the beach. Whatever was going on, anything was better than that abominable place of mutilation.


    "Draw me a sheep!"


    "Mall-ik," he used the name to get the creature''s attention. It worked. "Be careful. We are in my dream, and my mind was hurt a short time ago. It remains injured to this day. I think you are helping yourself and may be learning by looking at memories. I would love to see the real you." The boy looked up at the sun in the sky, it was a strange color; yellow did not exist in the quantum realm.


    Mall-ik partly understood what the human said. In Sophie''s head, the impressions from the mind made it clear that Laurent was fragile. Mall-ik''s features slowly changed; he now had black eyes and black hair. The boy''s beauty faded to be replaced by a truly average looking boy. This wasn''t what Laurent had asked for, but Mall-ik lacked the vocabulary, at present, to describe exactly how different from Laurent he was. If Mall-ik had shown him his true form, Laurent would be left with a firefly-sized flashing light that he had no hope of holding hands with.


    "Much better, you remind me of my daughter."


    The boy also looked hurt. His hand was holding his ribs.


    "Are you fine? Do you know who you are?"


    "Yes. I am a Metil. A creature from a different world, a different reality. I was tasked with monitoring a rift that opened between your world and ours. I escaped in it. If I ever return home, I will be killed," he finished with resentment. Laurent was impressed by the clarity of the explanation.


    "You are not related to Electoral? Or Marilyn?"


    "I do not know these names. I have never seen you before, yet I know you," said the child.


    "You do?"


    The decor changed. The pair were at a small state fair back on Earth. All around them were rides, games. Hundreds of families enjoying a perfect afternoon. Laurent knew this place; he had been here several years ago. Mall-ik''s virtual creation of the memory was leagues above Marilyn''s worlds; he could feel the joy of the attendants in the air.


    "You are him!" the boy pointed with a finger at one of the kiosks. A happy family was buying popcorn. Laurent saw Sophie. She was eight years old. Susan, his ex-wife, was there. He saw his former self reach into his wallet to pay for the food. The recent trauma from his nightmares helped him keep his composure. This was the happiest day of his life. "You are the one Sophie calls Daddy. This is where I saw you the clearest in her mind." Moments ago he had been consumed by his own despair, and now he was reliving one of the most joyous moment of his life.Stolen novel; please report.


    "You know Sophie?"


    "Yes, I spoke to her moments ago. I read her memories."


    "She is my daughter. I love her," offered Laurent.


    The boy wrestled with the concept for a moment. "Love. Yes, we also have something similar in my world. The Sophie loves you also, that is undeniable. There is also more, a bond. The strongest of links."


    Laurent''s eyes began to tear up. The boy looked at him, puzzled by his reaction. "This is good," said Laurent, as if to reassure the boy.


    "This world, these..."


    "Emotions," said Laurent.


    "Your world is so different, so... beautiful."


    The memories were somewhat askew, vis-a-vis reality, Laurent noticed. He looked around in the amusement park and saw that these images were not his. The colors were brighter, the candy larger. This was the fair of Sophie as she recalled it; a memory built by the mind of a child. Laurent was unable to say anything intelligent. The boy looked at him.


    "Thank you," said Laurent finally.


    "Why?"


    "To me, this memory is extremely pleasing. A good memory."


    "Daddy, why is Sophie now bigger?"


    The question startled him and he pointed at the unfolding images from the carnivale. "Sophie is my child. This is Susan, her mother. We are the two parents of Sophie. Our children come out small from the body of the mother and with years get bigger."


    "You reproduce in pairs?"The boy continued. "That must be very... convenient."


    "In your world, there is more than two needed to reproduce?"


    "Yes. Each of us is different. I was created by three groups of forty. I am different, an outcast. All the many of the groups who united to create me passed at the time of my awakening."


    "Is that a problem?"


    "Yes. Sad. We rarely have death. We are simply forced to dilute ourselves to form many others as a penalty of destruction."


    "I am sorry to hear that." The boy was trying to hold tears.


    "That is my shame to bear. In my life, I may not take part in any reproduction ritual, but I will give parts to the new entities."Laurent felt there was no point in pressing the issue.


    So he''d been wrong, earlier. The artificial intelligence on Mars had no part in this creature. He was talking to some type of alien, someone from a different world. Maybe he was dead, or he could simply be dreaming in a state in which his mind was protecting him. The cause was not important; Mall-ik sounded as though he needed help since he could only return home on pain of death.


    Laurent saw his family pay for the candy and his former self-board a ride with Sophie. Holding Mall-ik''s hand firmly, Laurent and the alien followed from a distance. The family passed the barriers and sat in a ride made of large cups. Above them, a large sign read "Wonderland."


    "I know these creatures." pointed Mall-ik at the large caterpillar sitting on a giant mushroom.


    ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°They were with Sophie.¡± Laurent smiled and knew better than question a child.


    "Do you want to try?" said Laurent, pointing at the ride.


    "You think I will like it?"


    "Yes." They walked over. The dream was so elaborate, they interacted as normal patrons. They boarded a different cup.


    "Mall-ik, hold the ring in the middle." It was hard for Laurent to keep his eyes on the boy. The vicinity of his family was a distraction.


    The ride began as the pair held a finger on the central ring. Mall-ik was amused. Laurent let the boy enjoy the ride. He could not touch his daughter, but as the giant cups moved closer, he was able to feel alive. He knew this little creature was an orphan, rejected from his world and now a castaway in a reality that must be terribly confusing. Laurent''s paternal instincts were kicking in. The man had found the one creature in the universe more vulnerable than his poor self. Their reunion wasn''t to his benefit, he was helping the boy. He smiled at Mall-ik, placed his hand on his shoulder and decided he would let himself be human.


    Laurent''s emotions were genuine and immediately his kindness was felt by the visitor. Mall-ik looked up as his new friend, his only friend and smiled. Sophie was so lucky. The boy truly enjoyed being with Laurent.


    "Are you hungry?" asked Laurent as the ride began to slow down. He knew the child''s attention had to be grasped or he would sit in the cup for hours. The boy had no clue. They disembarked, Mall-ik did so somewhat reluctantly. Laurent changed the topic. "You talked about a rift?"


    "Yes. This is how I arrived here. My world is different, not like this."


    "Maybe you can show me. We are in my dream, you seem to control of what we see. If you wish for me to see your world, maybe...."


    In the blink of the eye, the Michigan fair disappeared. Laurent no longer had a body. He was floating in a purple hue. There were no forms, no shapes as if he was back in the darkness. He heard the voice of Mall-ik.


    "This is my world," he said with apprehension. Laurent tried very hard not to panic.


    "Do not let go of me."


    "I will not," Mall-ik reassured him.


    "I like it," Laurent lied. "Where are we?"


    "Let me see." Some of the colors shifted. Laurent felt like he was a shark floating in the sea. He had a sixth sense, much like the smell of a shark smelling blood.He had many deep feelings, he just was unable to understand them. Whatever was this world and these life forms, Mall-ik was quite different.


    "We move by willing it. We drift. Let me show you."


    Laurent was taken over by the strangest feeling. Like walking off a cliff and falling without moving, the sea of purple surrounding him changed. Small balls became larger and larger. It was as if he had been dropped into a large cube filed with Ping-Pong balls and each was either expanding or shrinking to the size of a grain of sand.


    "I hope the others do not find us."


    "We are not in your world. We are still in my mind."


    "You think. Found it," said Mall-ik. "You see?" Laurent did not see anything different. "Now we move to the right." Laurent was lost. No wonder Mall-ik failed to understand his nightmare.


    "Let''s not get close to home. I do not want them to see me," Mall-ik said.


    "This is not your world, Mall-ik. We are still dreaming. We are still in my mind."


    ¡°What is dreaming?" the boy asked. Laurent had given a lot of thought to the question.


    "My species evolved on a planet that rotates on itself around a large energy source: we call it the sun. As a result, we have daylight periods where our sun gives light and heat, and nighttime periods when we must place ourselves in a waiting state until the energy returns. During our pauses at nighttime, which we call ¡°sleep,¡± our bodily functions are slowed and we do not move. Some of our biological systems are barely still functioning at that point. Our minds must also pause and function in a different stage, known as dreaming."


    "Please continue, this is very interesting." Laurent did not like this purple haze.


    He continued. "During our dreams, we are capable of imagination, of projecting to ourselves illusory sounds and images. The only limit lies in the individual dreamer''s capacity to imagine. Our race does not really understand the process of dreaming. My physical body was greatly damaged in an accident. I entered what seemed to be a permanent dream state. I am the only human permanently in the dream."


    "That may explain what happened on your ship," Mall-ik said.


    "What?"


    "When I first visited your world and passed the rift, I entered the mind of the Sophie. It was a beautiful place, a strange place she calls Wonderland. I do not know why I have this knowledge or why I can communicate in this strange language. We had an interaction. I was able to see many images from her life. I saw you." He paused, then resumed. "When I returned with others from the Group, I was forced to escape from them and return to your ship. I slipped into the first person I saw, he was not the same color as the Sophie. Unlike with the Sophie, that person''s mind seemed closed to me. I pushed very hard to open it. I broke something. I heard the person say many things before everything turned to black. I looked around, and I saw you. You had a different color."


    "This is very hard to understand," admitted Laurent. He did not know about the death of the fellow passenger back on the ship.


    "Agreed."


    "But I thank you for coming to me," Laurent said sincerely.


    "So this is not my world?" asked Mall-ik. "This is your imagination, your dream state only?"


    "Yes. Well, I think so."


    "Daddy, that is impossible. After I visited Wonderland, the Sophie followed me into my world."


    "What?" Laurent exclaimed.


    "Yes, as I left her, left her dream or her mind, she followed me to this place. I convinced her to go back."


    "Did she? Is she okay?"


    "I believe so. She even hurt me, but I could tell that it was not her desire. I know now that the rift is a door between your world and mine. Yet we are back in my world, it seems. How can you know whether you are in the real world or in your dream world?"


    "Good question," said Laurent. "Little is known by us of our dream state. Our minds are capable of pushing us out of the dream each time we are in danger of dying. Our minds wake us up if we die in a dream. My mind cannot wake me up."


    "So when you die in the dream, you return to your physical world? When you die in your physical world, where do you go?"


    "I do not know."


    "This is strange."


    "What?"


    Laurent felt something in the distance. It was as if he were standing next to a forest fire, unable to see and hear the fire, yet he could smell the smoke and feel the radiative heat.


    "They are here."


    "Who?"


    "The Group."


    Laurent felt the boy''s fear. They were back in hostile territory.


    "Take me back!" Laurent implored to the boy.


    In a blink of the mind, they both were back on the beach generated by Laurent''s mind away from the creatures. The sky was blue. But Mall-ik was his normal self.


    Laurent and Mall-ik both knew they had not only flew back to the Purple, but they were also a thought away from his real world. Both avoided the discussion on purpose. "Your world is much better than mine," said Mall-ik.


    "I know. But this beautiful beach is only my version of things. Reality is much different. Want me to take you to my favorite place in my world?"


    "Yes... Daddy."


    He did not deserve to be called by this name, Sophie would not approve, but Laurent could not get himself to correct the boy. Instead, he just squeezed the small hand.


    "If you are going to call me Daddy, you will need to call..." the next words were difficult to say. The image of the small tombstone from the cemetery in his nightmare was on the forefront of his mind. "You will have to refer to Sophie as sister next time we see her." The situation was surreal to Laurent. He would cross that bridge with Sophie once they came to it.


    Laurent tried to concentrate and change the environment but was unable to do so.


    "Mall-ik."


    "Yes?"


    "You decide what we see. Can you wish we were in the location I want to go at the moment?"


    The boy closed his eyes. The first thing that came to him was music. There was diffuse light and soft guitar. When the alien opened his eyes, he was high on a mountaintop overlooking Rio de Janeiro. Above them stood the famous Christ the Redeemer statue, its arms forever open in silent benediction. The sun was rising. In the sky, hundreds of white seagulls were swooping in circles. The sea was deep blue hundreds of feet below his feet.


    "This is wonderful," said the boy. ¡°Your world is pure marvel.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    They were alone on the stone ledge. Next to them was a little stone table with two chairs, a table with a chess board on it. The wind was mild and warm.


    "If you are to call me daddy, I must treat you like my son."


    "Please do."


    "Sophie, my daughter, hates playing chess with me. I always dreamt my son would play chess with me. Would you?" He pointed at the board.


    "A game?" the boy was amused.


    "Yes."


    "Nothing would please me more."


    Both sat at opposite ends of the table, one hand locked over the board. Laurent began to align the pieces with his free hand. "Unless you have a more urgent place to be?" he continued.


    The boy looked around. The beauty of this place was undeniable. "I have all the time in the world." Mall-ik smiled brightly.


    "Two worlds, actually!"


    Moments ago he was in hell.


    Latin music began to play.


    Energy was flowing between the pair as the binding began. The music intensified as the sun rose in the distance over the sea. They were here to stay, and nothing could get these two back to the realities of their respective worlds. Doors were opening, life was changing as the pair played.


    Meanwhile the ship was getting closer to Mars.

 Chapter 22: The Glass Slipper

    Meanwhile on Mars


    "Fuck, I love my job!" said the athletic man as he and his team of twelve boarded the strange monorail. They had arrived at the end of a long corridor carved in the rocky Martian underground. The security guard was noticeably uncomfortable wearing a suit and a tie, but the masquerade was a small price to pay in exchange for letting him take part in today''s unusual ride. His name was about to enter the history books. The man was joyful.


    "Talk about luck," said the team supervisor, equally thrilled. Below the surface of the red planet, the dozen or so well-dressed passengers walked passed the double pressurized doors to the end of the corridor. They crammed into the monorail to the surface as the doors closed behind them.


    Only one man stood out from the rest of the group where they were now acting like adolescents going to their prom. He was obviously there reluctantly.


    Ignoring him, one admitted, "I haven''t seen the damn sun in over two weeks."


    "Guys, focus on the job, don''t get out of character." Alex tugged on the large belt buckle of his pants with both hands, as if to play the role of some type of Italian mobster. "Call me Giuseppe." Everyone but Gerard, the odd man out in the back, laughed.


    An oxygen-nitrogen mix hissed into the cabin, pressurizing it up to 400 millibars and lifting part of the stench. The men''s lungs felt better under the increased air pressure. The term "air" on Mars was used loosely. As long as the oxygen was cut with nitrogen, it was "Martian air." It took a bit more than a minute for the cabin''s air pressure to rise by a hundred millibars. Below, on the surface of Mars, where the staff lived away from radiation, the air was kept a hundred times the typical Martian atmospheric pressure. That made the staff''s living environment about 300 millibars, still a third of earth¡¯s sweet pressure. Above, in the luxury hotel, the guests were allowed to waste more, hence they were given more pressure.


    The red lights on the wall panel finally turned green as the dial hit the desired pressure. A window cracked but did not break. A metal lock slid open below the floor, releasing the monorail to its ascent. The cage began to move along a strange fifteen-degree slope.


    "My name is Joe, I own an oil company in Texas," rehearsed another. The passengers laughed and attempted to fall into their respective roles as wealthy space travelers.


    "The view upstairs from the Slipper will be fucking amazing. Who has been up there?"


    "I have. I cleaned it two weeks ago. Yeah! Fucking amazing!" replied Alex. The constant vulgarity of the staff annoyed the hotel management, but tolerating this conduct away from guests was a healthy compromise with the worker''s union. These people were here for a minimum of two years, and stress management was at the heart of a healthy long-term stay.


    The group¡¯s discreet housing was built forty feet below the Martian surface at the base of this massive surreal massive mountain. The bedrock offered radiation protection from the high energy gamma rays of the sun. On earth, the thick atmosphere helped absorb the dangerous energy. The underground location of the barracks also kept their presence from marring the original beauty of the red planet to the incoming tourists.


    To the naked human eye, the desert here was a slight red. Not as dark as brick but closer to a bag of cement tinted with paprika. Mars was like the Nevada desert in all other aspects. The costumed workers began the climb up this red bedrock of a tall mountain to the famous hotel located almost a kilometer above. The group of "volunteers" had been selected amongst the two hundred or so workers because their jobs kept them hidden well below the surface most of the year. Their radiation levels were well below average and taking a trip in the Slipper would do them no harm. On Mars, each person wore a radiation dosimeter. Once an individual reached thirty millisieverts of exposure, the worker was forced to complete his or her contract below the surface, away from the sun. It was a punishment no one desired even upon an enemy.


    The clumsy metal box moved out of the docking area, climbing slowly. A minute after departure, the monorail broke the surface of the red planet. Above the white sun had green tints. The slow vertical climb shifted up to a twenty-degree climb as the box began a long climb. The electrochromic walls of the monorail quickly adapted to the natural light. The small white sun was now tinted in blue at this hour as it rose on the red horizon.


    The twelve men and women played tourists arriving from Earth or even Electoral players residing at the hotel between their game sessions. Time had grown short: in less than ten hours, the Airbus A2070, already in deceleration, would land here. Aboard was the world¡¯s young sweetheart and her disabled father.


    The men had a job to do. No effort was spared to make the event memorable, and everyone was tasked with helping the guests. The Slipper parked above was probably the only thing on Mars built without the blessing of the Electoral. The digital goddess paid for the hotel, the staff salaries, and the game itself. Once the Airbus would be on the ground, there would be no time to test the shining new Slipper. Conversation among the staff varied as the monorail continued its climb. Most people wondered why Electoral was opposed to the glass glider. It was the most exciting thing built on Mars.


    The conversation eventually settled on the famous Sophie Lapierre and her father Laurent, both currently aboard the Airbus. Everyone was anxious to see her. "Laurent is fine," a man concluded referring about the health scare. "That thing should know better than mess with him, the man has seen worse."


    It was impossible for anyone to even conceive in months, this was the second contact with other lives, this time extra-dimensional.


    As the monorail reached about a thousand feet, as the horizon began to curve, the team saw above the undersurface of the famous hotel. At the middle point in the ascent there was a loud metallic thump, and the climb halted. From this altitude, the view of the Martian landscape was lovely. In the distance, the sun was rising above the horizon.


    Only residents knew the faint gasses in the weak atmosphere gave the light variation get colors as it moved up the faint atmospheric line. The orb was now a small white dot with pink hues, subjectively about a hundred feet above the uneven ground. In the monorail cabin, red lights were blinking on the door''s command console. Several alarms should be sounding, but they had long been unplugged. The box was stuck and no one seemed to really care. Mars was to space exploration what Italians were to the British: organized carefree chaos.


    "Shall we?" asked one man. They''d all either seen or heard of this happening before.


    Everyone moved to the left side of the cabin feet on the edge of the floor. With a blink of the eye, they all jumped up and down a couple of times. Their weight rattled the monorail. On the third jump, metal clanked and the monorail bounced back on the rail only to resume its upward progression to the hotel above. The blinking of the alarms stopped.


    "This can''t happen to tourists. They''d freak out," one laughed.


    "These are rusted Martian steel. We''re on the aluminum track below the hotel. Guests won''t ride down to the surface on this line, our place is not for them. They have a different tract to visit the ground. Should be a smoother ride. This doesn''t count." Everyone, except Gerard, laughed.


    "We''ll know soon enough. Marilyn granted permission to her players to take a ride in the Slipper only once they drop out of the game. But legally, President Emilio reminded them they are free to do so at any time. Marilyn is very protective." All but one of the passengers seemed to relax.


    Attempts to explore Mars had historically been riddled with strange accidents and software glitches. A late-night comedian once said, "Let''s welcome the first Martian cosmonauts," as he placed a small box filled with ashes on his desk. In 2067, the Electoral system, for reasons unknown, used her considerable wealth to expatriate herself to Mars from her Bahamas compound on Earth. Civil engineers to this day remained amazed at the computer''s resourcefulness in conducting the relocation. She built shuttles, rockets and all the myriad other supplies needed for the trip, then launched thousands of modules from earth. Marilyn built the Electoral Center a couple of hundred miles from the hotel, and in that home-away-from-home, she even constructed living quarters for her creator, the richest man in the universe. Of the 127 contestants remaining, after the death of one passenger aboard the Airbus, the next round would eliminate half. After two rounds played in the hotel, the 32 remaining contestants would travel to the Center in what was certain to be a ratings record.


    The computer''s decision to leave earth came the day after the Electoral 2067 final. Marilyn explained that while first stages of the 2072 competition would take place on earth, finalists would battle it out using a new virtual interface in pods located in her Center on Mars.


    Back in 2067, there were no structures or habitations on Mars aside from a single two-man scientific polar outpost. The manned structure was nothing more than a small trailer-like box. Even as recently as 2068, no one had taken the possibility of recreational travel to Mars, capped off with the United Nations Presidency contest, as events very likely to actually take place by 2072. Yet here they were. Electoral was a woman of her words, driven and efficient beyond any human standard, even when she was forced to work with humans to effectuate her will. The fact that the finalists were less than a day away from arriving at this new frontier gave testimony to that fact.


    Eight years ago, Electoral used her vast wealth and acquired the Peninsula chain of hotels, owner of the Holiday Inn brand. The same day she announced plans for a new touristic structure on Mars, of all places. The Holiday Inn Mars would be the first exclusive five-star vacation resort in a hostile environment. This same structure built on top of Mount Everest would have been met with less skepticism. Construction of a luxury hotel on the north pole would have been nearly impossible, but Electoral pledged well over a hundred trillion dollars to pay for the development on Mars.


    Electoral''s determination to meet the 2072 deadline had been made evident at Airbus'' annual shareholder meeting back in 2069. The CEO was interrupted before concluding his shareholder presentation by the beautiful digital creature on the screen behind him.


    Marilyn apologized for the interruption, thanked everyone for a minute of their attention, blew a virtual kiss in the direction of awestruck CEO, and explained that she needed a craft to transport passengers back and forth to Mars in three years. She had then promptly uploaded the completed schematic layouts of the Airbus 2070, including the plans for what she called the Light Drive. In exchange for the engineering and preparatory work, all she wanted was free passage for her participants and guests in the 2072 competition; Airbus would keep the technology. The stock of Airbus shot through the roof that same day. The new A2070 design was light-years ahead of any other human spacecraft of the time. The same day, Marilyn commissioned two large satellites with powerful blue lasers. Once again, she offered the technology in exchange for the year-long production and launch.


    The construction of the Holiday Inn Mars started with much fanfare but proved a bit more difficult than anticipated. Marilyn also furnished the layouts and designs of the hotel, but the engineers of the hotel insisted on making small ¡°modifications.¡± The human changes soon proved to be a series of potentially project-derailing obstacles. Soon, their lack of vision placed the human-driven construction of the hotel three years behind schedule. Through ingenuity, efficiency, and veiled threats, Electoral had managed it so that the opening was still planned to coincide with the arrival of the first guests. It took Electoral a lot of restraint to tolerate these human deviations, but such are the problems of collaboration and good neighboring, she grumbled inwardly.


    That said, the Holiday Inn Mars was a sight few could ignore. An Earth comedian laughed, "President Emilio is going to be our next president. Since he is the only finalist here on earth, all he needs to do is wait a couple of days until some disaster befalls that godforsaken hotel, and he''ll be the proud boss of the world''s first all-frozen or free-floating atom cabinet!"


    The Holiday Inn Mars, also known as the High-Inn, was built on the north-west side of Olympus Mons, the largest mountain in the solar system, relatively nearby and north-west of to the Tharsis Montes, the three large shield volcanoes in the Tharsis region of Mars. High-Inn rested at an altitude of two thousand feet above the surface. A long monorail moved up the slope of the mountain, linking an underground service station to the hotel. The same rail continued up the face of the mountain, above the hotel, to the docking port of what could only be called the most amazing, purely man-made wonder of science in the universe: the Glass Slipper.


    The High-Inn designers wanted guests to visit the entire hostile landscape of Mars, glass of champagne in hand. The Slipper was created for that purpose only. Electoral refused to participate in this project and had, in fact, tried to dissuade the builders. Today was the first dry run of the Glider and the group of hotel staff in the monorail would be its first passengers.


    The truth about Mars and its ecology was chilling. Centuries of bad science fiction had convinced the public that Mars was a harsher version of the Nevada desert, or worse, akin to the surface of the Moon. In truth Mars is, by all accounts, much worse. In addition to Olympus, Mars'' Tharsis Region is home to the three Tharsis Volcanoes called the Tharsis Mons. These are three truly Herculean mountains, sticking out like acne on the face of the central plateau. Children often ask geography teachers how it would feel to be on the top of Olympus Mons, the tallest neighbor next to the three dead Tharsis Volcanoes, or why the Holiday Inn Hotel is built at the base of the Olympus Mons, instead of its top.Stolen novel; please report.


    The High-Inn was built as high on Olympus as technically feasible. It stood at an altitude much higher than the Empire State Building. Some comparison is needed to understand the sheer size of the Olympus Mons. Mount Everest stands 29,000 feet tall, with a summit so high it rests above clouds on most days; higher than some even above commercial airline cruising altitudes. On Everest, the air is thin and cold. Those who dare its peak typically require oxygen support gear, and the multitude of frozen corpses that remain on Everest to this day give eloquent testimony that even technology is no guarantee of survival in such hostile conditions.


    The Olympus Mons, in comparison, dwarfs Everest, reaching 15.5 miles in altitude or over 81,000 feet. Any climb from the base to the top is a minimum of five hundred miles long. The High-Inn, while offering an astonishing view of the landscape, rests at only 3% of the way up the massive mountain. Unlike Everest, which is found in the middle of a mountain range, the Olympus Mons rises from the surface of Mars like a lone, sentinel guardian. At a speed of one hundred miles per hour, a person would take five hours to bob-sleight down that monstrous mountain, the tallest in the solar system.


    Mars is also the home of the canyon named the Valles Marineris. Once again, unlike earth, the moon-sized planet Mars has only a handful of canyons, but each is prodigious in size. The dimensions of the Valles Marineris, commonly called the Valles, dwarf those of even earth''s Grand Canyon. It is so large, it can be seen on Mars'' surface from earth on a clear night. The Valles is 2,500 miles in length and 130 miles wide, and it reaches down over four miles in the ground. In comparison, Earth''s canyon is a tenth of that length, is seven times narrower, and only has a fourth of the depth. The volume inside the Valles, when compared with the Grand Canyon, is 280 times greater. Standing on the edge of the Valles is like being on the edge of a flat world.


    A cliff drop of four miles is simply inconceivable to any man. The first author who set foot on Mars back in 2024 wrote the following: "Hell welcomes me. Only a child would venture nonchalantly, bouncing on this landscape of death. A slip of the foot, a puncture of my suit by these razor-sharp rocks, and I drown in my collapsed, frozen lungs from one of ten deadly consequences. The sun here on earth is a gift but in hell it is a tear in the sky spewing deforming radiation. The air on mars is polluted, the wind corrosive. Adam, Adam, you never left paradise. May God have mercy and return me home."


    Once the initial misconceptions about mars dispelled, what remains is a world of hidden wonders but still unquestionably possessed of the most hostile environment conceivable. A coin dropped from the top of the Empire State Building takes about a minute to reach the ground. Because of the air on Earth, the coin quickly reaches a speed of 40 mph and continues down at this maximum speed. On mars, the gravity is 38% of earth''s, so a dropped coin would slowly accelerate at first. But the atmosphere is a hundred times thinner than Earth''s so nothing would slow down the coin, which would reach the bottom of the Valles at speeds of well over 600 miles-per-hour as if it had been shot out the muzzle of a gun. A coin here kills.


    The monorail, heavy with the dozens of pretend-guests, continued to trundle along its route. After half an hour up the incline, it slid below the hotel. The cage''s assent resumed vertically, passing the lower basements of the structure as a normal elevator. Eventually, it reached the lobby. This was a majestic focal point of the facility, carefully designed to awe arriving tourists. The normal staff of the hotel was ready. Two rows of elegantly dressed hosts and hostesses were waiting for the doors to open. The actors walked out, grabbed a flute of champagne, and pretended to be suitably awed for a few minutes before returning to the monorail for the ride up to the Slipper.


    In truth, no one had to pretend to be in awe of the view from the lobby of the hotel. It left everyone speechless. This was the perfect synergy of serenity and space exploration. The architecture had been designed by an artificial intelligence that knew humans better than they knew themselves. The ceiling of the main floor was covered by reinforced pieces of transparent polymer, and the cabin-like rooms were located in the lower levels below the lobby with a panoramic view of the Tharsis Mons in the distance. From here, there was a complete view over the flat red Martian landscape, and the rounded horizon of the planet was discernible. This central lobby could house hundreds and was filled with shiny couches, tables, a tail piano and several bars. It was unconstrained luxury, even by Earth''s standards. No effort had been spared, no detail unattended to for the few who could afford to be here.


    The employees were wearing shiny tight-fitting uniforms in different colors; the sexual undertone of the outfits was easily discernible if not shamefacedly glaring. If you could afford to be here, you had no shame in paying others to look great. The lobby was plastered with Electoral 2072 logos and posters of the remaining competitors. Marilyn had even designed drinking glasses in the shape of the competition''s logo: a tall spike over a rounded wall. In glasses, aligned in trays, floated berries in a strange welcome cocktail. Lightly colored sparkling champagne with rainbow colored bubbles bent around the berries. In the low gravity of mars, the bubbles took forever to rise to the top of each glass, and in this low pressure, the bubbles were much larger.


    Each attendant wore embroiled lapel flags to list which language he or she spoke. No one had fewer than five flags; one had twelve. Here, the salary was thirty times earth''s wage, and the view was unforgettable.


    More bottles popped open.


    In low gravity environments, where the atmosphere was rich in oxygen, it took little for the guests to get buzzed. The staff was magnificent, and the ¡°guests¡± found that simulating their amusement was something less than a challenge.


    "Ladies and gentlemen, those with a Group A ticket are invited to make their way to the Glass Slipper elevator. Please follow Justin, the others must wait sixty minutes for the next monorail to dock." Six of the twelve would go first. Gerard looked down, and his bad luck confirmed the piece of paper displayed the first letter of the alphabet. For the remaining half-dozen, this place was perfect for whiling away an hour; they would see the first launch from here. The doors to the monorail opened, but this time the small transport was fully decorated. Twelve could have squeezed in, but it now had a small couch; in the back was even a fully stocked bar and an elaborate automated dispensing machine. "You may, of course, bring your drinks to the Slipper." Alcohol on mars was rare, someone was trying to get these people drunk, most likely to test the staff''s response to impaired passengers on the Slipper.


    The handful of lucky guests walked in the monorail flanked by bowing attendants. Of the six, only Gerard was showing signs of anxiety. The others refused to engage him. The French cook was a buzzkill and the only one who had not been given the option of volunteering and been forced to take the flight. The Frenchman''s food would be served in the Glass Slipper, and some brilliant bureaucrat, as Gerard liked to say, felt the poor cook needed to see first hand how each appetizer and amuse-bouche held up in the Slipper''s gravity-free serving environment. There was also a question of crumbs and aromas. The ship would orbit and gravity would drop to near zero for quite some time.


    The monorail and its first six guests began the long picturesque climb up at an angle along the Mons. The sight that came next dwarfed the spectacular view from the lobby. At two thousand meters above the hotel lobby, the red horizon began to bend significantly. A faint white hue, the parody of an atmosphere, could be seen above the ground. It offered no real protection from the small star in the distance. From the hotel lobby below, the guests were unable to see the glass ship above as it began its ascent and speed up. Only once the Slipper took flight would it be visible.


    The elevator accelerated, and after half an hour, it reached an altitude of about 20,000 feet. It was a fourth of the way up, yet as high as a commercial plane''s flight down on the blue planet. The monorail docked below a heavy concrete slab, part of a long launching pad. It hid to the guests all but the tip of the Glass Slipper''s nose. They docked with a loud banging noise as magnetic clamps locked into place. The guests had been warned and were provided with Electoral 2072 napkins to place atop the rim of their champagne flutes in the name of preventing unfortunate spills. The doors opened. This area was much more modest, it wasn''t designed by the computer. In the cement bunker, several metal doors led to different portions of the launch pad. The six guests were directed to one of the doors.


    A voice came over via the intercom. "On board of the slipper, the gravity will change. At times, it will even drop to zero. To your right, please feel free to use the last fixed bathroom you will see in the next hour. The glider will travel one full orbit of mars and move at close to thirteen thousand miles-per-hour. These speeds are more than twenty times the speed of an airline plane. The extreme velocity is necessary in this low atmosphere to give our wings sufficient pressure to lift our craft. At your leisure, please make your way inside the Glider, and take any seat available. Fasten your seat belt for the launch. There is no assigned seating, for as you will see, none is needed in the Glass Slipper!"


    As they made their way into the small shuttle, the passengers found themselves at a loss for words. The sights thus far, however amazing, were now utterly breathtaking. This view alone was worth selling your residence to buy a one-way ticket to mars. The small craft had the shape of earth''s first space shuttle but on each side were much longer wings.


    Every inch of this ship was made of transparent polymer, including the roof, the floor, the seats, and the hull. The effect was akin to walking inside a carved diamond. There was a slight deformation of light as the thickness of each wall varied, but the view of Mars ahead was exhilarating. Entering the glider was like walking outdoors on mars while holding a champagne flute.


    The glider''s stern was the only opaque portion. It included an engine room through which the six guests entered.


    "This thing will blow up," mumbled Gerard.


    "Shut the fuck up, retard!" snapped Joe. "I don''t care if this fucking piece of junk crashes and we all die. We are the first to ride ''Ze Slipper,'' the ride costs 400,000 credits alone, and we''re getting in for free. So shut the fuck up. If you ruin my buzz, I''ll kill you!" The alcohol did not help Joe control his vocabulary, but he was speaking for the otherguests as well.


    "Putain de merde. What a great fucking idea . . ." replied Gerard. "Instead of loading the Slipper with dummies for the test ride, let''s use the disposable staff of the hotel. Whoever came up with this has no clue how dangerous this is. I am a cook, not Indiana Jones. If we live, it could be the first time anything has gone according to plan on this shithole of a planet." Gerard knew very well he was being recorded, but he was right. Nothing on mars ever went according to plan. The view was exemplary but hardly worth his life.


    "Not sure about the trip, but your food will kill us for sure," forced out Sarah, as if to help diffuse some of the testosterone in the air.


    "We are all getting a tattoo after this, right?" joked someone else.


    Gerard pointed at a screen. "You see, that is a storm over the North Pole, no?"


    The flight attendant smiled. The team was ready to service difficult clients. "Our orbit is not polar. We are not going within a thousand kilometers of the storm. Nothing will go wrong."


    Gerard was unconvinced. "You sound like a bad remake of a cheap movie. ''Don''t worry, what can go wrong?'' Trust me, something will go wrong. This thing have parachutes?" he snapped.


    On the horizon to the left, the passengers could distinguish the black fracture on the surface, forming the Valles. To the right, stood the three Tharsis Mons, like giant guardians or Egyptian pyramids. From this altitude, the curvature of the planet was beautiful to observe. In the mixed light of the sky, one of the two moons orbiting Mars was visible; the deformed Deimos. Phobos, the larger brother, was on the other side of the planet and would be visible only halfway into the orbital trip.


    The launching pad was a sight to behold. From a distance, it was a speck on the Mons, but from within, it was phenomenal. The back of the glider was plugged into a mating shape and held in place by large clamps. Ahead of the transparent glider was a long cement lip in the form of a Slip ''n Slide with a curved end. The nearly mile-long launch slide had been built in an S-shape intended to push off the glider away from the mountain as it reached the ramp''s end. Below the slide were large hydraulic pistons designed to raise a metal structure hidden inside the rocks. Below the body of the glider, the Glass Slipper, rested a pair of little black wheels.


    The glider was slick: portions of the wings were shiny and covered by Kevlar and micro-polymer weaves. The cockpit electronics, the bar, the ovens, and other commercial equipment seemed like they were floating inside a carved Ice Castle, albeit one ready to be shot into orbit. Two pilots passed the boarding passengers to make small talk before they took their seats in the cockpit. The talk was awkward given that the pilots knew the hotel workers but had to pretend they did not.


    "Is this your first time?" asked a pilot.


    "Of course, have you met my husband?" the man replied jestingly, pointing at another male passenger. Everyone but Gerard laughed.


    Along with everything else fore of the engine compartment, the seats were also made of transparent material. Even the bar and stools were transparent. A cushion would have been a nice touch, but the desired effect would have required aesthetic compromises. The pilots were sitting at the front in the cockpit, both buckled in.


    The hotel employees could barely see the Holiday Inn far below their feet. It was covered by large nets to protect the structure from rolling debris.


    The flight''s host grabbed a little microphone and began, "Let us start this historic journey. Today our flight will be manned by Captain Manning and co-pilot Lui. Captain Manning is a five-time world gliding champion on earth and formerly served as an officer in the British military. His co-pilot holds two important distinctions: he is a field medic from the Chinese military and a specialist in low-gravity emergency jumps. We will not bore you with specifics, but in case of emergency, any member of our staff should be very helpful." The attendant knew his introduction by heart.


    The preparation helped Gerard feel somewhat reassured. "Are there parachutes?" he let out.


    "The atmosphere is not thick enough for parachutes to really work. The outside environment is only three percent of an atmosphere. Without air, parachutes such as those on earth would need to be impractically large. We are also going to be moving way too fast. Instead, your seats include a custom-designed shock absorber system, not unlike helicopter seats on earth. In the highly unlikely event of a surface impact, you would not even break your champagne flute."


    "But we will be moving very fast, thousands of miles per hour!" Gerard''s critical mind was not missing a beat.


    "You are correct. This is no simple flight, it''s an orbital launch. This craft possesses rear parachutes, of the extremely large variety I mentioned earlier. Even beyond that, though, they are unique. They have built-in back vents." The man pointed to a screen, and a video played as he continued. "Take a look. At this speed, there is normal pressure in the tissue, by placing vents, the parachutes will lift us up as we decelerate." The images were reassuring. The large sails lifted the back of the ship, slowed it down. "Then under normal weak martian gravity, we would slowly float to the surface in the event of an emergency."


    "Gerard, these guys thought about everything," said Joe.


    "Seems like it," he had to admit.


    The tower and the pilots exchanged some words, and several large green lights began to shine outside just before the clamps unlocked. The spring in the back of the Glider and those in the wheels gave one long constant push. The passengers were pushed deep into the stiff seats. The launch was, to say the least, scary.

 Chapter 23: Turbulences

    The inaugural launch of the Glass Slipper had just begun. Below, on the planet surface and in the lobby of the Holiday Inn, everyone breathing was under some contractual obligation of confidentiality with Marilyn Monroe, aka Electoral, not to shoot images. The media had offered over a million credits for any renegade employee willing to break the rules and send footage of the transparent glider. Marilyn had quickly made the offer moot on a number of levels: legal, financial, and personal consequences awaited anyone who defied her. She also maintained her ultimate trump card: her ability to invade and manipulate any digital signal sent out from this fourth rock from the sun.


    Mars was currently nine light-minutes away from earth. The artificial intelligence promised she could use that time to stop any illegal images. She wasn''t kidding. In the event her more subtly invasive techniques proved insufficient, she also had heavy-duty, high power electromagnetic pulse weapons scattered over the surface, as well as in orbit. She was confident her shielding would hold. No one would see this first flight.


    The flight attendant warned, "We ask our most sensitive passengers to close their eyes for the next few minutes as we launch from the pad. The low gravity should make the ride very smooth. We can provide a small face mask if anyone prefers to avoid watching the launch." Everyone except Gerard would have paid to see this. In the low gravity, falling never felt that scary. Free-fall back on earth was like jumping off a ledge or a springboard into a pool. Here, it felt like walking down steps of a pool into deeper water.


    In the back of the Glass Slipper, heavy metal inductance coils, compressed by large clamps, were armed against the docking station. Once the clamps were released, the expanding coils would push the Glass Slipper gently for several seconds.


    "Hold on!" Captain Manning instructed the passengers. "This will be fun."


    There was a loud thump, and a kick of gravity pushing the guests lightly against the back of their chairs. The Slipper began to accelerate down the ramp, the wheels emitting both a low rumble tinged with a high-pitched squeal. Below the deck, acceleration magnets used the movement of the glider to gently push and further accelerate the Glass Slipper. Soon they reached 40 kilometers-per-hour. The glider took twelve long seconds to accelerate and leave the upward edge of the ramp. Since everyone was sitting over a floor made of glass, they saw the edge of the ramp replaced by a rocky mountainside. Seconds later, the nose of the glider was not flying. Instead, it was moving faster and faster parallel to the side of the Mons on its way to the hotel.


    As the glass ship slid down under the pull of the faint gravity, it slowly accelerated in its parallel path down the slope, but no air was there to slow it down. The screen above the command chairs posted a speed of 150 kilometers-per-hour and increasing. They were flying directly parallel to the side of the Olympus Mons. The horizon of the planet remained high up above their heads, giving each passenger the impression they were traveling over the ground when in fact they were speeding toward the planet.


    At some point, the red rocky ground below the Slipper moved so fast that it began to blur. The transparent floor, which would have been a delight at altitude, was an exercise in terror. They were speeding toward the nets of the roof of the hotel. This was not for the faint of heart. In the hotel lobby, the view would also be breathtaking as the polymer craft approached.


    The Slipper continued to gain speed, and at the last possible moment, when it seemed like the crash with the hotel was unavoidable, the pilots pulled on their sticks and the Slipper curved up and launched in the Martian sky as the wings bent in the wind.


    "Here we go," said the pilot as he pulled his lever toward him. The long wings bent upward at each tip as the Martian wind, such as it was, began to support the craft. The trajectory went from sliding at a fixed altitude over the side of the Mons to a low quasi-orbit. The horizon high above their heads began to slide down, past the nose of the Glider, where it continued to drop as they left the Mons surface into the sky.


    In the craft, weightlessness returned for a minute before the ship''s trajectory flattened along with the real horizon ten kilometers up in the cold gas. Silent thrusters ignited, pushing the glider to an even greater speed. While the trajectory was that of a giant roller-coaster, the accelerations seemed much weaker because of the low gravity. Every passenger was gripping something or someone.


    "Shooting for the hotel, how wise!" sneered Gerard to himself. The other passengers cheered. "Stupid, stupid, stupid . . ." mumbled Gerard, though he was impressed.


    Above the bar in the Glass Slipper, amongst the bottles clipped into place, a speedometer read 2,345 kilometers per hour. As the ship climbed back up, the unobstructed view of Mars was beyond description. From within the Slipper, one felt like a bird. There was much more than the eye could see. No one, including the members of the staff, could talk. For several minutes, the craft rose silently in the faint atmosphere. The sound of wind against the hull was reassuring.


    As it rose, slowly the faint gravity returned in the craft. In the silence provided by the Slipper, this hostile, alien new world appeared tamed and beautiful. The planet was an endless red desert. From this altitude, on the ground were endlessly varied shades of red and orange, coupled with equally varied geological formations. This was a planet of wonders. No human in the year 2072 could take this voyage without feeling like a speck of sand lost in the majesty of time and space. At this speed, the thickened atmosphere helped stabilize the glider, giving the pilots more control over the vessel.


    With one exception, none of the passengers could take their eyes off the stunning landscape. Gerard was eyeing the little microwave. Even the hostesses were at first unable to muster the strength to unclip from their seats. Slowly the glider went up to ten thousand feet, and the rear thrusters were cut.


    Classical music began to play. It filled the silence. In space, nothing else made sense.


    The peaceful views of the red landscape helped Gerard tolerate his predicament. He was sitting on a glass seat, in a glass box, and moving at breathtaking speeds over a different planet. What could go wrong? The experience was unique, to say the least. The attendant clipped out, pushed a button, and uncorked a bottle of champagne.


    "You may now get up and move about the cabin. We ask only that you keep in mind the fragile balance of this ship. Remember that we are in a glider, not a plane. Just don''t all rush to one side at the same time." She smiled in vain attempt to remove the implied threat from her words.


    Gerard grabbed a glass of champagne, it''s upper edge was curved to help keep the liquid contained in the low gravity. He downed it in a single gulp and replaced his glass with a new one from the silver platter. He knew the beverage was the real thing. He looked at the bottle. It was one of the 2066 Petrus. They had used a thousand credit bottle for this dry run; at least they spared no expense. He finally looked below his feet at the land slipping past below. He could not believe it, he was on mars drinking French Champagne. What came next would hopefully be even better, he knew the menu; he had crafted it. As the microwaved warmed the appetizers, a pleasant smell filled the cabin.


    His mind began to wander. He should never have signed up for this mission. He owed his ex-wife alimony, and a year here would pay off all his debts. He was doing this for his children back on earth. He missed them. Mars had that strange effect on people, nostalgia. The crew distributed an appetizer of fresh Atlantic salmon. "This is actually good!" said a passenger to Gerard, knowing he was the chef. "Salmon, here? Flown in?" Everyone laughed before Gerard had a chance to answer. His coworkers were trying to help him manage his stress.


    Praises from billionaires would be a different thing. The chef''s mood brightened when he noticed the warmed appetizers stuck well to the platter. That was one of the key factors in their selection, the other being a lack of loose particles that might tend to float. He looked around in the air of the ship and confirmed to his satisfaction that there was no loose debris.


    The Glider left on a west-south-west trajectory. Seven minutes later, after aiming for the large sister mountains, which appeared small in comparison to Olympus, the Glider reached a midpoint between Ascraeus and Pavonis Mons. These were the only two bumps on this flat landscape.


    Then he saw it. Others pointed. In the distance could be seen the western lip of what most called Dante''s seven rings of hell, the deep Valles Marineris. This was where, two months ago, all of the members of an expedition had died, vaporized by the rarest of geological occurrences. As the ship began to arc around Mons Pavonis, Hell seemed to be their true destination. The hair on Gerard''s neck rose. He could not shake the feeling that something was about to go horribly awry. Judging by the eerie silence in the ship, others shared his feeling. Gerard had great eyesight and could see, even from this distance, details in the relief of the surface. Gerard had exceptional sight, few knew this fact.


    "Commander?" said the world-famous voice of Marilyn Monroe. She spoke softly and privately in the earpiece of the pilot. "May I intrude for a moment on this epic journey?" Pilot Manning looked around; he alone was receiving the communication.


    "Yes?" he said.


    "I would like you to alter your flight plan, a two-minute delay only."


    "Why?" The co-pilot looked at Manning, a questioning expression on his face. The protocol was simple, Manning wasn''t supposed to exclude him from any conversation. Manning looked at his co-pilot, gave him a thumbs-up and moved his lips to say ¡°Marilyn.¡± The co-pilot nodded back.


    "Sadly, I am not at liberty to disclose that. I need you to alter your route. All I can say is, ¡®to be continued.¡¯" He had no clue.


    "This is a test, we can''t deviate from the flight path, that''s precisely why we are here. Weather?"


    "Joe, you know me. I never cry wolf. You must trust me on this one. The last human who waved away my warnings was vaporized."


    "Talk to flight control if you have a concern."


    "I have," said the female voice, "they are equally stubborn. You humans are quite the lot."


    "I cannot change the course, it''s not up to me."


    "Regulation CMR 1.031 gives a craft captain all authority over the flight plan. I have uploaded a new flight route into your system. Please believe me, you should follow it.Please don''t die today."


    "Why don''t you simply take over the automatic guidance, if it is this important?"


    "I would if I could. I am bound not to interfere. I should not even be giving you this warning."


    The Commander was unclear what she meant. He looked around. There was no sign of any problem on the horizon. Mars was silent, and his ship in perfect working condition. "Marilyn, I wish . . . ."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "I understand. I wonder how human parents can ever educate their children." She was obviously annoyed. "If I told you the crew is in danger of death, would that change anything?"


    "It would. What is the danger?"


    "Sadly, I cannot say."


    "Seriously?"


    "Captain, you should trust me, I may one day be allowed to discuss specifics, but for the moment, I cannot. I reached out to you in this earpiece in great peril of a fragile peace. You personally knew Corvas, right? Minutes before his mission, I also warned him. Like you he ignored me, and the rest, as they say, is history."


    "I trust you, but you don''t expect me to simply turn around and jeopardize my career because you asked nicely and hinted at some unsaid danger, right?"


    "Yes." The pilot thanked her, made small talk and he continued the flight without a change to the flight path. The Valles stood ahead. Manning clicked a button and relayed the conversation to the base making sure none of the passengers heard. The base confirmed she had also called and tried to warn them to abort. "Listen," began Manning, "I trust her." The beautiful scenery around him now radiated menace. He tried to smile to the co-pilot. Both men were now nervous, the digital creature wasn''t one to warn lightly.


    "Manning," said the base, "she does not like humans to steal part of her show."


    "Still, maybe . . . ."


    "In case of any minor deviation from the plan, you have full authority to return to base. If you don''t finish the orbit and land anywhere from the dock on the other side of this mountain, we won''t be able to return the Slipper for a launch this year."


    "Sounds reasonable." The glide across the martian sky continued. Above them, Deimos shone brightly enough to distinguish its surface features. The deformed orbiting moon lit the dark sky and cast a moving shadow over the ground. The ride was as smooth as skating on ice.


    The only man-made structure, a research post at the edge of the Valles, shimmered in the distance. It rested against the edge of the Valles, a dark slice in the surface. A very faint stack of smoke was still visible behind it.


    "Why are we going there of all places?" asked Gerard, pointing at the smoke. "Are we looking for trouble?" No one paid him any attention.


    "What type of food is this?" replied a guest grabbing something from a platter.


    Gerard did not answer, the attendant did. "Pesto Escargot!" The man choked after learning of the type of protein.


    "This is your Captain speaking." The man was only a few feet away from his passengers. He needed no intercom but used it anyway. "If you look to the left, you may be able to distinguish the antenna of the Electoral Center where Marilyn Monroe is broadcasting the 2072 competition. This is where the players, now only hours away from Mars, will go in a few days to play the last rounds of the incredible game we all love. And in my case, lost at. If anyone checks, I was kicked out at round two,¡± he added for levity. "Electoral Center is the tall black spike over there . . . at ten o''clock," Manning continued. "We are now heading over the Valles. On its edge, you can see the scientific outpost where a handful of researchers have . . . are studying the gassing stack. This is the source of the plume of smoke which arose this summer."


    "Remind me about those parachutes,¡± someone piped up. ¡°That must work wonders over that massive hole. Can someone confirm we are not plunging into Hell just for the fun of it?" The question was rhetorical.


    The male attendant tapped Gerard on the shoulder. He handed him a pair of black Orbison glasses. "You have a call."


    "A what?"


    "You have a call." Gerard was stunned, no one had the money to call him from home. His grumpiness must have annoyed someone important. He took the glasses and put them on. Oil tycoons got calls, not him. This had to be extremely bad news. As he prepared mentally to speak to his brother and learn of the passing of his mother, the screens in the glasses lit up. Gerard slid the earpiece in.


    "Don''t talk, just listen," said Marilyn''s voice as images of his home country formed ahead. He was back in France. He saw the creature called Electoral, the incarnation of Marilyn Monroe dressed in jeans and a simple shirt, on her knees between vines a pair of tweezers in hand. She was tying ropes to the base of old vines before the grape season. Gerard knew this place, it was his father''s own backyard in the southern region of Marseilles. She removed her gloves, put down the sheers and spoke. "If anyone on the plane asks, I am your brother giving you bad news." Electoral had a reputation for being mysterious, but Gerard was shocked to the core nonetheless. After flying over Mars, he suddenly found himself back in his father''s backyard. Gerard''s knuckles clutched the chair arm as if to remind himself of where he truly was.


    "I was opposed to the building of this polymer craft for reasons I cannot disclose to you at the moment. Don''t be scared by what happens next. You are safe. In several hours, I will need your help with something. You will not watch the Presidential Challenge, I assume. Normally, without this call, you would refuse to help. Now that I have called and observed what comes next, I know you will help," she smiled as the man was desperately trying to make sense of the situation.


    He was about to speak. She put her index to her lips, to remind him to be silent. "Why you?" she said. "I am trying to give you a reason to trust me later. I also agree with your assessment of the danger here. Man is showing very little respect and less humility for this new frontier. The ignorance and fearlessness of everyone around here is quite . . . let''s say you are the only sane one around. I like that. We''ll talk later. Just play along with these children. I will save your life now. You owe me, remember that." The glasses went dark.


    Gerard was in shock. Had she just called this group children? He felt oddly vindicated, but the software bimbo was right, he had very little trust in her. Her call had piqued his interest.


    Then, as if on cue, it hit.


    The craft shook hard as if they were in heavy turbulence. The passengers felt it, and champagne went flying out of glasses in amorphous spheres as everyone bounced off their seats. Silverware and crystal glasses fell slowly back to the floor and bounced softly. The pilots kept their calm.


    "Tower, we just felt a shake."


    "Negative, Glass one."


    "Tower, I confirm, one shake."


    "The instrumentation shows no such disturbance."


    "Tower, we felt strong turbulence."


    "Fine, Glass one. We are investigating. What do you mean by a shake?"


    As the pilot was about to respond, another wave of turbulence shook the Slipper. A stronger one. This felt more like a hit from a missile than atmospheric pressure variation. Captain Manning felt like the Slipper had just entered a zone of extremely dense atmosphere, like a vortex. This was not possible in such a thin atmosphere. That damn Marilyn had warned him, this was not a drill.


    "Tower, a second bump. Stronger." The passengers tensed.


    "Roger that. We are initiating emergency protocols on our end," said the voice over the intercom. "Please begin emergency landing protocol."


    "What?"


    "You heard me, Slipper one, we are taking no chances. We will drive to grab you guys wherever you land. Start distributing suits, masks, and gear."


    Manning wanted to call Marilyn. He could almost hear the exasperation in her voice. It took no time for the pilot to instruct his crew. "Looks like we are lucky today, we are going to run the emergency protocols. Beautiful people, that''s you, Johnny and Sarah, get the emergency gear out. Help our rich guests get suited up." His words were flippant, but nothing could hide their serious undertone. The hostesses were already opening little red safety bags.


    "Tower, any idea of what this was?" asked Manning. In the distance, the door to Hell was getting closer. They were less than three minutes away from the edge of Valles Marineris.


    "Passengers, we are not going close to the Valles at this point." The captain was trying to be reassuring.


    Manning heard in his earpiece, "Instruments still show a clear ride on our end. Manning, give me something, what do you think this is? You''re the expert."


    "This is Mars. Back home I would think we hit a very focalized vortex of air or a large bird. Nothing seems damaged. No crashing sound. This was not atmospheric, I will tell you that much. My sky is perfectly clear."


    A third shock hit the Glider. This time something in the mid-section cracked. The sound was like a fissure in an ice sheet. The force sent every person flying off his seat except for Gerard. The cook was in a strange mental place. He was looking at the scene with fear, but he remembered what Electoral had just told him. She''d said she would contact him.


    "Told you so," grumbled Gerard to himself.


    Manning spoke so everyone in his back could hear. "I need to depressurize this puppy as soon as possible. Hurry up and get those suits on to make sure you have air." He continued in the microphone. "Tower, I am requesting a flight change, we are going back home."


    "Roger. You may correct course manually."


    The passengers began suiting up. They all were well trained.


    The glider slowly began to change course, turning to the left. The three Mons they had left behind them began to move back to the fore of the Slipper. "Tower, this is Slipper One. We are suited up. The turbulences have stopped. We are beginning depressurization." There was a silence. "Tower, you there?" A longer silence. The silence was much more stressful than the previous shockwaves.


    "Tower, tower, come in." Manning decided against initiating the landing. Stuck hundreds of miles from base, they were as good as dead if no one could get to them in a couple of days. The fastest rover went twenty miles per hour.


    Co-pilot Lui spoke. "Captain, orders?"


    "Call Electoral." She would know what to do.


    After a moment, a thick male voice came on the channel. "This is the Electoral Center, Georges speaking."


    "Where is Marilyn?" asked the co-pilot surprised by the voice.


    "Busy. What can I do for you?"


    "Busy?" His reaction was instinctive. The software platform''s CPU capacity was limitless. "How can she be busy?"


    "Do we sound like a fucking travel agency? She does not want to talk to you. Is that better? She said she warned you, but you were too stubborn to listen. I picked up the call because I am not menopausal." Lui was shocked. He was speaking to the elusive creator of the artificial intelligence, who had just insulted his own creation.


    "We are experiencing turbulence. We don''t understand how that can be possible. In case of emergency, we may need to land next to you."


    "Dude," the voice was clearly about to hang-up. "What you fuck?" The programmer was not really in a good mood. "Authorization granted on my end, God only knows what Marilyn will do. Try to get home if you can. Trust me, you better walk four hundred miles on this shitty rock than deal with her when she is this pissed off. Land here at your own risk, you have been warned."


    This was a side of Electoral few had ever seen. The digital creature was extremely temperamental when dealing with intrapersonal matters. In the virtual world, she always appeared jovial and cooperative. She was an Olympic gold medal hypocrite, thought Manning to himself.


    He turned, the passengers were in gear and all strapped in.


    As Manning was weighing his options, the communication from the tower came in. "Slipper, sorry for the delay, we had to get earth''s confirmation, and we are twenty seconds behind there. Your pressure seems to be holding. You are instructed to turn and try and fly back to base. Manning, we don''t know where this crack is. Get Liu to use the hand laser to check for any breaches. We need you to turn the thrusters off, and manually bring back the Slipper on gliding mode alone. Go easy on her. We will call Electoral to request . . . ."


    "No need," volunteered the Captain. His tone was that of a husband warning others away from his wife''s fury. "We already have the green light from Georges to land there if we need to."


    ¡°Georges? The Georges?¡±


    ¡°Positive.¡±


    The hostesses finished preparing the passengers for a crash landing. The glider turned very slowly; they were still high above the surface. Gerard, looking at the others in the vessel, saw one stand up, his eyes fixated on the Valles as if he could distinguish something invisible to the others. Then, the strangest thing happened. The screens in the slipper all lit up. A movie came on each screen, including the command station. It was the 2071 remake of Bloodsport, a B-series martial arts movie. Fighters were on a tatami mat, kicking each other''s brains out.


    "What . . ." The Captain looked up.


    "Wow, that''s so cool," said Gerard turning his gaze away from the Valles to the screen. "My favorite movie." This was no coincidence, thought Gerard.


    Manning was unable to turn the movie off, but that was far from his first priority. With great finesse, he turned the Glider around the closest Mons and flew over the tall spike of the Electoral complex. It was surrounded by a round wall and black rock. After a couple of uneventful minutes, the co-pilot got up and went around shining a hand-held laser to check whether cracks had formed in the Slipper''s hull. Reflecting light was helpful to see longitudinal breaks in the polymer.


    The flight home to the pad on the Olympus Mons was, compared with these last minutes, relatively uneventful. The landing procedure required a mixture of grappling hooks and low-gravity elliptical drops. It was nothing short of landing a bird on an aircraft carrier. It was done under extremely stressful conditions.


    "Welcome back, Slipper One. How was the ride?"


    "I need a shower."


    "We all do."


    Gerard was puzzled. The Electoral participants were less than a day away and would land tomorrow. The Glider would obviously not be operational, and the Electoral platform was busy on different matters. As Gerard walked out of the Slipper, he passed the cockpit. The men were obviously upset about something.


    He overheard one of them say, "What do you mean both orbital lasers are dead? How is that even possible?"


    Gerard wondered what they were referring to.


    The team saw a shuttle launch up in the air. Its destination was a satellite orbiting above. The word back at base was that something had gone wrong in the ship.

 Chapter 24: Deception

    After a little over a week in space, the A2070 transporting Sophie and the 126 remaining players of the Electoral 2072 competition was in sight of the red planet. The voice of Captain Judy came on the intercom. "This is Captain Arrigoni. We are about to begin our deceleration." Her voice was reassuring. "While our corporate representatives would like me to pretend like this flight is nothing more than a long intercontinental flight, and keep in mind this wonderful crew has done their utmost to reinforce that perception, the truth of our circumstances is not quite so simple. We apologize for the incident with the Light Drive earlier today. It sent us spinning around for a while. These are the facts: we are fine, we will soon arrive at our destination, and we are moving very fast. You were given a glimpse of Mars as we spun around an hour ago. The ship has stabilized, and we have completed the preliminary tests on our end. We are ready for what we call the deceleration phase."


    The finalists were all legitimately nervous except a groggy Sophie in her large seat.


    "First, let me address the elephant in the room. We lost one passenger to a strange condition. We have notified his family. Unfortunately, there is not much more to do at this time. The doctor feels it may be a blood clot; a strange space-induced stroke. Medical science acknowledges there are problems with long-distance travel and we are, want it or not, space pioneers. We do not take this matter lightly, and we do feel compassion. The family has set up a donation page at the Red Cross; online donations are very generous. If anyone has any pain or discomfort, please contact an attendant immediately." The Captain took a deep breath and continued.


    "We will need cooperation and full attention for what comes next. I think everyone has already been briefed ad nauseam about this procedure. Our expected time of arrival in orbit is in eleven hours and nine minutes. Let me explain what will happen. We have turned the ship around so our Light Drive, at the stern of the ship, now faces mars. A large orbital laser in mars'' orbit will light up, sending a blue beam our way and once it touches us will push our Light Drive, decelerating us. We all know light ordinarily does not push back on a mirror, but this one will. The laser will hit the central axis of our Light Drive, and its force will slowly begin to decrease our speed by about 10% of an earth gravity. We will all feel the push.


    "To the non-scientists here, and that means most of us, this should feel like sleeping with a stack of books on your chest. This will last several hours. Trust me; it is normal to find the deceleration uncomfortable after such a long stay in weightlessness. While moving around is not permitted during the rotation, once the lights are turned off, you will be allowed to get up from your seat. Our attendants will help. You can also lie down with your feet facing toward the fore of the ship. In that position, the gravity will push blood back to your legs.


    She paused then continued.


    "There are two lasers in orbit of mars, and one only is needed. Each alone is sufficient to slow us down. Once decelerated and in orbit, we will take about an hour to glide to the landing pad at the base of the hotel where everyone is ready for us with a glass of champagne." She had rehearsed what came next about a thousand times. "Mars is currently in its summer. The temperature is nice and warm. Summer lasts over 170 days since a martian year is twice as long as a year on earth.


    "The temperature on the ground can get as warm as zero degrees in the sun, but at night, it drops to minus 79 degrees, cold enough for a banana to become brittle and break like glass. There is a faint atmosphere right now of about one kilopascal or three percent of a normal atmosphere on earth''s Mount Everest. The gas atmosphere is mostly carbon dioxide. Yesterday there were signs of a two-kilometer-per-hour wind on the ground. In a low gravity environment like mars, that''s enough to flap a flag.


    "Your clocks have been adjusted to a martian day, which is only forty minutes longer than a day back on earth. Having the same day length is the most useful feature of Mars. That is why we have been using cabin lights to maintain this day cycle, as we traveled here. We should land around eleven in the morning local time. As always, on mars, it should be a cold, sunny day." Judy was not smiling in the cockpit. "Give us a couple of minutes, and we will begin. Buckle up."


    She opened a line to mars. "Ground base, we are ready for the laser, please confirm." There was an unusually long delay in the response.


    "Confirmed," said the voice. It seemed hesitant.


    "Anything wrong? Is Milly the CNN journalist better informed than me?"


    "Just proceed with final stages of alignment, we are looking into issues with some secondary systems." In space travel, communication was key. Each time there was a conscious decision not to inform, it generally was a bad sign. Judy had her marching orders, and she would align this ship, so the Light Drive faced the laser in orbit of mars.


    She resumed on the ship''s speakers. "We have the green light to lock our rotation to the arc-millisecond." A moment later, the captain continued."Mars is less than a million miles away. Before we can activate the Light Drive to decelerate slowly to orbital speeds, we must align the ship on its axis. The laser which propelled us to this point will now push on our rear to slow us into a stable orbit.¡±


    Sophie did not really care. She felt like these adults were just playing with expensive toys. What the captain said next was a greater cause for concern.


    "We also ask that during this entire procedure, you remain absolutely immobile. If you are looking out the window when we begin, stay that way. No fast gestures, no drinking, no talking." Sophie was puzzled. "The faster we align this vessel with Mars, the faster we can engage the Light Drive and land."


    "Is this serious? Let me go to daddy," said Sophie to the attendant. Several of the passengers looked her way.


    "Yes, Sophie, opening thrusters in space is like walking on ice. The pilots must feel this ship. It is not uncommon for the best pilots to overcompensate and get a ship tilting off balance in every direction." Sophie got it; they were nervous. "You saw what happened hours ago."


    "Sophie, I have a cold tea for you. It will help you sleep." The hostess handed the girl a pouch. Sophie liked the slushy drinks. In space, everything was in pouches, so you just needed to crush the plastic with your fingers to turn the content into frozen ice. The pouches were meant to be eaten as well; that wasn''t as fun.


    The captain''s voice continued. "Some of you will see mars if we over-rotate, please fight the urge to go look. You already saw it earlier today. I remind you that we are aligning ourselves through what amounts to an open end of a straw to allow a spout of water sent from Mars to pass through the straw. We don''t want to get wet, that''s all."


    The attendant asked Sophie to stay in her seat. The girl could not connect with her father anyway. His vitals were stable, but his mental activity was very weak. At least the sickness had not killed him. Sophie found the entire landing exercise long and rather boring. A co-pilot passed by her and was standing in the back with a red suitcase covered with warnings of all types. The co-pilot opened a small hatch on a side door and confirmed to the pilot via intercom that he was in his secured position. In case external thrusters failed, he would screw a bottle to release a gas in a last-gasp hope of reestablishing trajectory. Primitive was the only word that came to Sophie''s mind.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    On time, the thruster opened and the seconds ticked away.


    Sophie saw the stars move just a bit, then like a rock, she fell asleep. The flight attendant was relieved. The woman grabbed the pouch and saw Sophie had drunk most of it. The sedative had worked. She gave Dr. Shin, peering from the infirmary, a thumbs up. Sophie did not need to see the landing. The government had agreed to send her to mars with one caveat: that she remain in her seat for the entire landing and under the Captain''s orders, the girl should sleep.


    "Mars, the young girl is asleep. We are now in position and sending our vector right now."


    "Vector received. Confirmed."


    "Ready to begin deceleration."


    "We are not ready down here. We are having problems with the laser. Please take this time to review the procedures relating to using the nuclear thrusters to decelerate. You might have to use them." Only the Captain was able to assess the importance of what they had just said. Judy kept her composure.


    "What type of problem?" she asked calmly. There was a silence, and a different voice spoke up.


    "Captain, the laser satellite in orbit of Mars failed this morning. We are now working to get the redundant satellite online. We are experiencing technical difficulties."


    "Seems like the journalists were right. What is the problem? Terrorists, as they say?"


    "We can only confirm that there are serious problems right now. Nothing confirmed."


    "Can you please explain?" She remained calm. Good pilots were trained to react with calm to dangerous situations.


    "The primary laser is out of the equation. The redundant one seems to be working with the exception of its modulator. That part is offline."


    "What does that mean?" asked the Commander. These people were being careful with what they were saying. "We need the full breakdown to properly assess the situation from here," said Judy. For a Commander in a crisis situation, the words were not kind.


    "Forget the primary laser, its orbit is too high. The second laser is still unfinished. It orbits lower and has orbital trajectories where it will not see you. It is coming in line in a matter of minutes. The primary beam of the secondary laser, about two hundred kilojoules, was designed to slow down the Airbus A2073; the next model transport. It''s much too bright for your ship. The targeting system works, so it can hit your drive. The modulator is what reduces the power to help gradually decelerate you. If this beam hits you for the moment, it will feel like an anti-riot water hose is hitting you. We need the power of the beam to be lowered to 20% of its current value. We''re working on it, but changing hardware on a system in orbit is problematic."


    "Thank you." Judy and her crew knew what this meant. The ship designer believed in redundancy. On each wing were ordinary rocket thrusters using a fusion core. The fuel was a bag of tritium-deuterium pellets, but in space, if one wing engine pushed with more force than the other, without air to correct, they would need to empty their small side thrusters to keep the ship aligned. Irrespective of what would come next, her options were limited.


    Wang, her co-pilot, was surprised. He was an engineer with deep knowledge of the Light Drive. "There are at least a hundred ways to drop the efficiency of a light beam by that much. I don''t get this."


    "What do you mean?" asked Judy.


    "Modulation is nothing more than filtering. Put a tissue or an opaque glass between our nose and the source. We need a pair of shades in front of the drive receiver, and we have modulation."


    Mars answered, "Wang, we have a hundred experts on this down on earth. None of these solutions work for the moment. Two-hundred kilojoules is not a small light. It will melt anything you put in the middle. Trust us, this is priority one. We have it."


    Wang said in Judy''s ear privately. "This is bull. Something else is going on.¡± Wang continued on the intercom. "Nothing is easier to do than dropping something''s efficiency. What about a software change? Why don''t we modulate the intensity of the beam on our end?" said the co-pilot. "I''m the onboard engineer; I was there when they mounted the Light Drive in this ship."


    "When you say ''modulate'' on our end, what do you have in mind?" Judy asked her co-pilot.


    "This is only light we are talking about, but a lot of it. There is an open space between the plate of the drive and the transparent plate in the hull. It''s used to clean the plate. I just need to layer something partly translucent in that space, no?"


    There was a flood of communications between mars and the ship. Earth seconds behind tried to keep up, and finally a voice replied.


    "Mr. Wang, this is not the Apollo 13 mission. While with your Captain''s approval, you are authorized to move ahead with the preparation of your solution as a backup. We must proceed with landing the plane on the nuclear thrusters. We have spoken at length with Pr. Sandberg, and he confirms that onboard modulation will not work." Wang and Judy knew Sandberg was the father of the drive.


    The captain took back the line. She spoke softly.


    "Ground, I must ask if the possibility of sabotage has been taken into consideration."


    "It was. This is one of our leading hypotheses. We will know better once we get a closer look at the satellites. We have a crew flying up there right now from the ground."


    "Mars," said Judy. "If we assume this is sabotage, these people went to a lot of effort to have us start our thrusters. I am reluctant to fire them without a full inspection."


    "Captain, time is short. Thruster deceleration is slower, and ignition must begin within twenty three minutes in order to give you a chance of decelerating enough for a landing. What are you proposing?"


    "Well, if this is sabotage and they can put two satellites in orbit of Mars offline, they must have a way to interfere with my nuclear thrusters. Why is there partial function only on the secondary beam? Saboteurs would have also taken this out, would they not?"


    "Given that construction is ahead of schedule, technically it should not be operational at all."


    "Good."


    Judy was upset but worked hard to contain herself. "We took off with a single laser operational?"


    "Yes."


    There was no reason to continue this discussion. Judy was now furious looking. Mars felt like it had to explain. "We wired it up remotely. We spent hours making the coils heat up. That is why we can''t modulate this beam. Half the lenses aren''t even on the satellite. Trust us, having the beam now is a miracle on our part."


    The Captain continued. "Ground, unless you can confirm that my thrusters won''t blow us up, I feel like Wang''s solution may be best. Please advise."


    "Captain, the law is clear. This is your vessel. The call is yours."


    Judy turned to Wang. "What do you think. Can you make this work?"


    He did not answer.


    Captain Arrigoni opened a communication channel with Mars.


    "Electoral Center."


    "Yes," a male voice replied.


    "Marilyn?"


    "No. This is Georges."


    "Where is Marilyn?"


    "Really?" The voice was furious. "She is not . . . available for the moment. After years of pushing her around, you guys finally got what you wanted. So enjoy not having her around."


    "Mr. Vouvelakis? Marilyn¡¯s creator?"


    "I prefer father. Yes.¡±


    "We need a little help here. I am carrying the players, and the thrusters . . . ."


    "Are you that stupid?" The man was not holding back. "Humans refuse to heed her warnings when she gives them. If she has not contacted you, it means you are in no danger, that¡¯s how she rolls now. Did she contact you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then fucking get off this channel and stop wasting my time. According to her you have the tools to resolve the situation. Listen, I am busy here. Should I leave a message?"


    "Yes, tell her to call me as soon as possible."


    The link went down as abruptly as it went up. Judy expected almost any response but this one. She had a difficult call to make. There were voices on the intercom. Wang was waiting anxiously.


    This could be a simple malfunction.


    Hundreds of lives were on the line.


    At this point, Judy''s running watched vibrated on her wrist silently. Judy was a runner and always carried her GPS. It buzzed after each mile. It buzzed again. She looked down at the screen and saw the Electoral logo. It then blinked out to be replaced by a message on the little display. There was a picture of Marilyn Monroe with a short message: "Trust my past winner. Love, M."


    Judy was Marilyn''s biggest fan. She trusted the digital creature with her life. She smiled internally and knew instantly what Marilyn meant. Below her feet was the solution.


    "Wang, go prepare yourself in the drive room. Don''t touch anything on the drive yet."

 Chapter 25: Emilio’s Play

    Her ship was moving at around 400,000 miles per hour or 200 times the speed of a gun bullet. Since speed is stored energy, they needed a solid eight hours of deceleration to shave most of that power down and hope to land. To land, her ship also needed to flip around twice, once now and then just before atmospheric entry, to rotate back to forward-pointing orientation. One of the lasers was sabotaged, the other was only partially operational, and Marilyn didn''t seem to think there was a problem.


    Judy wasn¡¯t a man unable to trust Marilyn simply because of who she was. She knew the artificial creature was wise beyond her years. Given these circumstances, she now was relatively confident. The Captain had an ace up her sleeve. The guys at mars control, in charge of the deceleration phases, were convinced that she was reckless and likely to ignore their suggestion. Real-life captains of space missions were not television starship captains free to improvise in difficult situations. She held lives in her hands and had precise orders. In this case, though, they didn''t originate from Control.


    The hint Marilyn was hinting at was Emilio Wamarez Sanchez, the twice winner of this competition and decade-long President of the United Nations. The famous man insisted on meeting her in person at the time of the launch. Pretexting a sendoff ceremony, he handed her in secrecy a hand written book with pages. ¡°Wrote this three months ago watching the fumes going up. Something is coming, better be ready,¡± he told her before hugging her for the cameras.


    The President''s orders were simple. Appear forceful and stubborn, take a moment to regroup and go to his little secret notebook. The President had a gift for anticipation, he was a fortune teller. He knew, well before anyone else, what road to travel in the game and in real life. Months ago, from a diner in Berlin, the man had expected several possible contingencies she might run into and he had hand written solutions to a handful of possible problems; she just did not know his solution to it. Yet.


    The next part of the genius'' plan would be equally difficult to implement. There were three people in the cockpit, all of them nervous, and she needed them to leave her alone. The protocol was clear: under no circumstances was the front cabin to house a single officer. There was a weapon at her disposal in case someone refused to collaborate, but that really was her last resort.


    "Wang, we may need that onboard modulation, go prepare yourself. Take your time, this has to work the first time. If we send this ship spinning, there may be no time to stabilize and land. Don''t start or do anything without my green light. Prove that guy on mars wrong."


    "Yes, ma''am." He unbuckled himself, pushed off, and floated out of the cabin. Two others remained in their seats, the communication officer, and the second pilot.


    "Guys, here is what I need you to do. Jeff, go warn the crew of what is going on. We are implementing the emergency protocol. I want no exceptions. Whatever happens, the lawyers are going to have a field day here. Any Electoral contestant who gets kicked out of the next round will sue us. Everything must be by the book." Jeff agreed and left. One remained.


    "Paul, we may need to warm the nuclear thrusters. I fear sabotage. I want you to go inspect any place where a person might have gained access to any critical system. Be careful, given in mind that this may be someone onboard. See if you can spot anything that could have been tampered with."


    Jeff hesitated. "I can''t leave you alone in here. That''s a violation of protocol, no?"


    "Correct." She pulled out a necklace from under her shirt. A key dangled from it. "Unless a person outside has the key to open that door if I fall ill." She took the chain off her neck and handed Jeff the key. It floated until he slipped it around his own neck and hid it under his shirt. He pushed off and left closing the door behind him.


    She was alone. She looked at her watch; it read 21:24. What she would do next had to be time coded. Judy waited fifteen seconds until the watch turned to 21:25, then reached over and twisted one of the cockpit cameras. She pushed a handful of buttons and turned the knobs on the panels in front of her. It was ironic how many dials were still mostly manual, even in these latest ships. It seemed like nothing was more reliable than good-old analog switching. As the clock turned to 21:26, she reached between her shoes and grabbed a small handle. She twisted it, and a latch clicked open, releasing a package.


    "Earth, code red." She said over the intercom. She waited for what seemed like an eternity. Since she was nineteen light-seconds from Earth, the wait of forty-one seconds was not a big deal. As she waited, she pulled a small hand-size ring binder from a red envelope in the package. She broke the seal and opened the binder. Everything in it was typed with an old typewriter, except two or three handwritten pages.


    Finally, four words came on the audio link. "One-thirty-three, confirm."


    "One-thirty-three confirmed." The link closed. She started flipping through the pages. Each had a large red number stamped at its top. She turned until she reached the page numbered 133. It was one of the few handwritten ones. She knew the handwriting, it was the President''s. She quickly ripped page 133 from the binder, replaced it in the envelope below her seat, and closed the hatch in case anyone returned.


    This was it, she told herself.


    She took a deep breath.


    The voice in the intercom returned and said, "Timing adherence to instructions will allow us to monitor your compliance with instructions. Slow down to suggest onboard interference. Accelerate ship to suggest unknown event. Your top is in seventeen minutes, 21:45 on your watch. Good luck." This was serious.


    President Emilio feared Marilyn. He insisted on keeping many key protocols in hardcopy manuscript to avoid manipulation from the digital goddess.


    She could not get herself to read the sheet. Her hands were shaking. The clock was ticking. The Earth Control Center needed a discreet way to give the captain instructions without using any of the normal communication channels, away from the all-powerful Martian resident Marilyn Monroe. Whoever was powerful enough to interfere with the ship would likely have informants, moles, or other means of spying. The instructions on this page overrode anything else. Some on Earth did not trust Marilyn and wanted a non-digital way of communication.


    A suggestion by the Mars Control that the ship use auxiliary thrusters was one of the red conditions that immediately set in motion the opening of the hatch. The death of a passenger to a strange illness was not one of these conditions. Judy was on the fence as to the death. Now that Laurent had come down with a similar problem, she was unconvinced it was medical in origin.


    Her instructions at the moment were on page 133, and if the paper read to self-destruct the ship, she had to comply. Most sets of instructions were timed, as these were. She calmed herself. Judy looked at her watch, and it read 21:29. She still had sixteen minutes. Finally, she read the page. Amazing. She loved the President. She could barely keep a straight face. She tensed the muscles in her face to hide any real emotions.


    A voice came from the intercom, "Captain, this is Wang. In position, this will take some time."


    "Continue," replied the Captain, as she kept reading.


    Whoever was behind this incident down on Mars had met his or her match. President Emilio was a brilliant man, this was further evidence of it. She knew she was working for the good guys here. Her watch reminded her she had only fifteen minutes left. She opened the main intercom to the passenger cabins and tried not to sound like she was reading from the page.


    "This is your Captain speaking. I am asking for a moment of attention from everyone." Jeff looked up. He was the one in charge of informing the crew, yet his Captain was on the intercom with news. "We are facing unique circumstances, and the law requires us to take some important safety measures for your protection. The law also requires us to inform our passengers."


    The cabin fell silent. "You must lock yourselves in your seats as instructed by the crew where you will remain until further instructions. We will strictly enforce this obligation. Directive UN 1-203(b) provides that everyone must stay seated, with no exceptions. You will pee on yourselves before you get up, understood? Instead of wasting valuable time explaining the situation, we have a CNN journalist on board. Every person with a valid international journalist card is given free access to the ship and cockpit to document the situation. Just don''t get in the way. For the passengers, please open the monitors ahead of you so everyone can follow the situation from your seats." The Captain had to insert the right name in the next portion as she read it. "Milly, only the Light Drive room is off-limits. My co-pilot is in there. Jeff, I need you up here!"


    The Captain was barking orders. The protocol was somewhat reassuring. The screens lit up with the CNN feed from within the ship. Milly, the CNN journalist sitting next to Sophie, knew this trip would be historic. She had incorrectly assumed the action would start once she arrived on mars. Next to her, the young girl was deep in her dream world. There had already been a casualty, and now the ship was experiencing severe technical difficulties. Her instructions were to befriend Sophie on the way to the red planet. She knew that part had failed. Milly got up and drew her press badge. The girl remained sound asleep as the larger woman unclipped from her seat. With a flicker, she released two little electronic flying cameras. These looked like flies.


    Her broadcast to two billion people began.


    "Thank you, Suzy, John." The journalist was addressing the desk anchors down on Earth. "I amhere live on the A2070 deep in space, hours away from mars." The woman was good at what she did. She was working off a long delay. "I want to salute our hundreds of viewers on mars, the few on the moon and a special hello to Ron and Marcy in the probe to Saturn. They are getting to their destination in a month, so we know they are watching." She blew a kiss in the direction of one of the floating cameras.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Every screen in the ship and down on earth went to a ¡®live¡¯ broadcast the journalist''s feed. "To my left, Sophie Lapierre, the planet''s sweetheart; soundly asleep as her father struggles in a stable condition in the infirmary. He is fighting an uncertain brain condition, one that may or may not be related to space travel. Next to him in the infirmary lies the first of what is sure to be numerous casualties of this deadly adventure." The concept of professional and unbiased journalism was long gone. Media was sessional sprinkled with facts. The media was supposed to be given some access to some situations, but this level of cooperation was unprecedented. Milly would take advantage of the situation.


    She slowly floated to the cockpit area. Jeff, the co-pilot, was back in his seat. Judy was standing up and opened the door to the journalist and her cameras. "Several hours ago," she spoke, "during preliminary tests, the ship was sent into a tailspin. It took the crew almost an hour to stabilize this fragile tube moving toward mars at speeds never travelled by men." She pointed her index finger in the captain''s face. "Captain Arrigoni, what is going on?"


    Judy knew better than improvise. She had to stick to the text on page 133. It was folded and in her pocket but she had a great memory. "Well . . . we have just been informed that there is trouble with the satellites in orbit of Mars, and at this time we are keeping our options open. We may have to warm up the auxiliary nuclear thrusters to stop. As you know, if the laser does not get online soon, we will simply decelerate using this reliable old technology."


    "The lasers don''t work, is that even possible in 2072, with Marilyn Monroe in charge and taking over every chip in every phone?"


    "Obviously." The journalist knew this was riveting live television. The follow-up question was obvious, but the captain turned, looked at her watch, and said to her crew, "Guys, get everything ready for the procedure. We begin deceleration in eleven minutes if the laser kicks in. Get the crew to secure everyone in their seats. This will be bumpy. Make sure Sophie is secured."


    "You just said the laser does not work. What is wrong with it?" asked the journalist.


    "I have little time for questions. What we know is that the modulator on it does not work. We think we are going to modulate on our end. I have to go. Follow me if you want, Wang has an idea." She knew the journalist would. The Captain pushed herself using both hands out of her seat and using the frame of the cabin out into the main Cabot to the back. She zoomed to the back of the ship to meet Wang working in the thruster engine room.


    The live news feed served as a secondary endorphin system to Milly. Her face was lit up. She was standing between the rows of passengers who couldn''t decide whether to look directly at her or watch the large screens. The CNN desk back on earth was buzzing with information, experts, and tickers.


    Earth took the feed. "Thank you, Milly. Before we get back on the ship, we have a Light Drive expert who will tell us what seems to be the problem." An older balding gentleman appeared. "Professor Sandburg invented the drive. We have little time, sir. What is going on?"


    "This is . . . ." He searched for the right words under the circumstances. "This is very unfortunate."


    "Is the engine broken? Can the engineer Wang fix the problem from the ship?"


    "Not really. If they try to modulate from that ship, the hull will snap into pieces like wood."


    There was an animation of the ship snapping in two. The passengers in the ship were dead silent and pale.


    "What¡¯s modulation? Please explain."


    "Imagine you are on an aircraft carrier and you are trying to decelerate a plane by throwing water at it, with one difference: the plane is moving at Mach 3 in your direction. That water will crush the plane at any opportunity. The laser on mars acts like a water hose shot at the tip of the ship to slow it down. The modulator regulates the force seen from the ship. If they have no modulation, how ever precise is the water, it¡¯s initial impact will crush the ship. it''s like standing in the middle of the street and having a fire hose opened inches from your face." Sandburg was not mincing his words.


    Captain Judy arrived in the Light Drive room where Wang was working. She knocked, opened the door, and locked it behind her to prevent the journalist from getting inside. Wang was sweating, a rare sight for the Asian. He was floating near the end of the room, and pearls of sweat were buzzing around his face like little glass balls.


    The Light Drive looked like an early internet server attached to large metal structural beams. He knew the support structure was made of titanium with reinforced Kevlar. The room was cramped. Around Wang were several glass plates stolen from microwave doors in the back kitchen. He also had paper and tools. Loose screws were flying around. The floating debris was not proper, but under the circumstances, Wang could not be faulted.


    "Wang, can you do this?" asked Judy, barely holding back a smile. She would let him sweat a bit more.


    "I hope so . . . ." He looked up and saw her grin.


    "You know if you fail, this ship will be crushed, and we will all die."


    "I know." A screen in the back was playing CNN. He had just heard Sandburg''s predictions, and his lack of faith was not helping the engineer. "Geez . . . you on my side? You want me to screw up?"


    "What''s that black panel down there, below your hand?"


    "It''s locked. I don''t know. Says you need a code on this numerical pad."


    "Type this." She opened the sheet from her pocket and read, "098241."


    He typed the code, and he heard a loud click. A small door opened, revealing a keyboard. Wang wondered what this was. Judy continued to read from the page. "Now type233-REG." He complied. A voice sounded in the room.


    -- Light Regulator Engaged. Modulation range one million Lux. --


    Wang could not believe his ears. They were saved! There was already a built-in modulator on the drive. If he were not extremely happy, he would have slapped her. She looked at her watch: 21:37. They had eight minutes. She opened the intercom to the cockpit. "Wang is ready. He will try to modulate. Tell mars Control we will be ready to initiate laser connection and deceleration at 21:45 precisely, on schedule," she added as if to avoid confusion.


    "What the hell?" he asked before she shut off the intercom.


    "Wang, I am giving you a direct order, this must stay between us,¡± she said in a low voice pointing to the closed door behind which a journalist floated with her cameras ready to report. ¡°These are the personally delivered hand-written presidential instructions I got moments before we left," she waved the sheet and showed the handwriting. "President Sanchez, God bless him, has anticipated this situation along with a slew of other ones. He had this modulator built in. We need us to keep the existence of the modulator secret and pretend that you saved the ship. I guess Emilio does not want whoever did this to know we''re onto them. Makes sense to me. We must use the media to our advantage. You need to sit tight back here, think about your solution and pretend like it will work and you will be saving the ship with it. Get a story ready for Milly. You are about to save these passengers. That Sandburg guy will be convincing at making you sound like a buffoon. Walk out in half an hour, and put on a show."


    "Really? I need to pretend like my stupid plan will work?"


    "Yes. I will take lying any day over using your solution, no insult intended. Seems like we have to play hero for national security purposes. I don¡¯t lie lying but there may be other plot attempts. The man is our President. Get it?"


    Wang was taken aback, but he nodded.


    "The journalist is outside the door. Says here the drive will simulate a couple of bumps to add drama to this. Hang on tight back here."


    "Is Electoral involved?"


    "Don''t know and don''t care at this point." Her watch now read 21:40. "This is way above our pay grades. Enjoy the ride, tie yourself down, and once we''re done, give the acting performance of your life."


    Wang was puzzled."Is that President Sanchez?"


    She showed him the handwritten paper, pointed to the last line ¡°Yes Wang, I wrote this,¡± read the last line.


    It was now 21:41.


    "Good luck." Judy opened the door, passed Milly and pushed out the frame like a underwater diver pushes in a cavern. She floated to the front pilot cockpit as Wang hurried to shut the door. The journalist was standing in the cockpit. Everyone in the ship was under the impression that their lives were going to end soon and a weird feat of engineering was going to be attempted.


    Judy said to the journalist, "This is in Wang''s hands now."


    What happened next was straight out of the best science fiction stories. Captain Arrigoni began the long deceleration procedure. A cloud of smoke was released in space by the ship to help visualize the laser from mars. Even the most stable satellite at a quarter of a million miles wobbled in the cloud.A small portion of the light reflected on the smoke. At Judy''s request, the massive blue laser beam hit the cloud.


    A large curved satellite dish slid out of the back of the ship and unfolded in space. The dish was over two thousand feet wide and reflected the light to a middle reflector plate at its center. Light, once in the reflector, bounced on several prisms until it hit the heart of the Light Drive. Ironically every science fiction ship had a light drive suggesting speeds of the speed of photons in the void of space. This Light Drive was slow in comparison and was simply pushed by light.


    "Mars, we are going to turn on the plate."


    "Captain, we ask you to reconsider. The nuclear engines are sure to work."


    "Mars, this is my ship, and these people are in my hands. We will land. Wang, are you ready?"


    The engineer was still in shock. "As ready as I will ever get," he said with a shaky voice. The journalist helped make the experience memorable.


    There was a countdown, and the center plate of the drive was energized. Deep in the Purple, a new rift opened in the dead of space.


    On cue in this world, there was a loud bang. It was followed by structural noises and shaking. Only Sophie remained sound asleep through the stressful play. Little puffs from outgassing stabilizers began pulsing to the left and right. The flow of blue light began to decelerate the ship. Under normal circumstances, this would have been only minor turbulence. Wang was the only unstrapped passenger on the ship. He was floating in a room filled with sharp edges, including panels of glass.


    There was a heavy shake. A panel slipped out of the Velcro holders and broke into multiple pieces against the black titanium frame. He was unable to catch all the shards, and as he turned his head, with the deceleration one floated into his left eye. As if stung, his reaction was instinctive, it was the worst one possible, he slapped his own eye pushing the shard in. The deceleration helped him collect the other pieces glued to the vertical door behind him. He let out a loud screen of pain.This hurt. If the President wanted a performance, this would add to it.


    The ship began to slow down. On the screens, the speed dial rolled down as everyone felt the return of light gravity pulling them in their seats.


    "This is Judy. How are things back there, Wang?" she said cameras filming her live.


    "I need the doctor. Hurt myself with glass."


    She pushed a button, "Doctor, go help Wang." Another push later, Judy said to Wang, "Susie is on her way. You are on overtime pay now until we land. You shit appears to have worked. Nothing melting?"


    "Make it double pay," the voice sounded for the cameras. The screen showed his face and a bloody tear coming around his fingers. This was bad. ¡°Wang,¡± echoed Judy. "I promise, double pay." The passengers on the ship applauded as if on cue.


    The passengers could not help but applaud Wang as he moved to the infirmary.


    As the passengers, Judy watched the entire audience. To her right, the young girl was sleeping to the vacated seat of the journalist. As she dreamt, there was some strange invisible energy around here. It was pulsating as her eyes moved below her closed eyelids. In a matter of seconds, it was gone. Judy did not need to alarm anyone.

 Chapter 26: The Presidential Challenge

    For most of the passengers of the Airbus A2070, the trauma created by the mars approach, deceleration, and orbital entry would haunt them for decades. Milly Wong, the CNN journalist was pivotal in creating and maintaining the hysteria. Sophie slept through all of it like a baby.


    The attendant who had given her the sedative worried in silence. Once in a while, the woman would pretend to adjust her pillow but in fact, checked her pulse. Sophie was no ordinary person; others cared deeply for her. She cared.


    Pushed by the laser, the Airbus slowed for hours until it reached three thousand kilometers per hour. It was then rotated on its x-axis, relative to the planet, to face the weak atmosphere for re-entry. The Light Drive reflector was folded back into the stern of the ship. Slowly some weightlessness returned inside the ship.


    Wang made his way back to the cockpit from the engine room with his eye bandaged. The sight of passengers applauding the hero made for great television. He stumbled to get back. Judy would make fun of him for the rest of his life. He failed at doing nothing and would be a national hero for naming himself.


    Outside, the long wings on the Airbus bent up slightly as the ship entered the low-density Martian atmosphere, plunging toward Olympus Mons. On the side in orbit floated a large laser and a deformed moon. The other was not visible yet.


    With all the commotion and precaution, the A2070 was five hours late at reentry. The speed at which the ship dropped in the sky was surprising to most. In less than thirty minutes, the Airbus rolled in on the landing strip at the base of Olympus Mons. This wasn¡¯t a light glide down, instead the trajectory felt like a rock falling from the sky.


    The landing reception, initially scheduled was postponed. Normally the priority would have been the dead passenger or the wounded engineer, but instead the true priority of why these people had travelled millions of miles returned: Electoral 2072.


    There was something much more important going on, a game set up by the Electoralgame system called the Presidential Challenge. Ordinarily, there were scheduled interviews before the game. The passengers gladly gave up their televised arrivals for some peaceful time in their luxurious rooms. There would be time to climb to the hotel lobby once the Presidential Challenge was over. Each person had family members playing the Challenge, all others were watching tens of simulations of loved ones. Yes, a game played over the Internet was the number one importance. The national obsession had returned.


    Electoral''s broadcast, even in the wake of a life and death situation remained so compelling that the world paused to watch. The Presidential Challenge, played and organized by the Electoral 2072 software, would be epic. President Emilio Sanchez, a two-time winner, was preparing himself in his Berlin office for his performance. This was by far the largest fund-raising simulation ever held in the world. The passengers and remaining competitors were not allowed to participate.


    Two security guards walked into the ship and took the sleeping girl from seat 1A. Judy wanted to object, but her authority had stopped with the Airbus. The men ignored the Captain and took the girl from her seat with the kindness of a parent. Sophie was a big girl, figured the Captain. Judy hoped the young princess would be alright.


    ¡°Where are you taking her?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Jail,¡± shamefully replied the large man. He was unable to even look the Captain in the eyes.


    CNN News


    The Internet


    The two news anchors were beyond excited. This would be the largest audience ever recorded in human history. It came in the wake of the breathtaking rescue of the Airbus A2070 a few hours ago. "The timing could not be any better," remarked the female anchor, as she began reading from the prompter located inside of her contact lenses.


    "Yes, indeed," replied her male co-anchor, reading from the same script in his own contact lens. It was easy to see the two were cute puppets in the skillful hands of their producers. As was the channel''s custom, the two would keep alternating line after line as they read the script on the air. CNN was not about putting recognized stars on, each journalist was unknown and merely a piece of the greater puzzle. Milly, the journalist who had been sent to Mars with the contestants, would get a lot of airtime and some personal exposure, a rarely for the network.


    "How hard has it been to go two weeks without an Electoral 2072 simulation? We are in a well-needed break as the remaining a hundred twenty-seven players, sorry make that twenty-six players, make their way to their rooms in the luxury hotel on mars. A new president will be elected in just seven more rounds. The 64 losers of the next round will earn the job of Senator, not a bad job to have if you ask me. The next 32 out of the competition will get cabinet positions. Each round half are disqualified until we are left on November 21 with two people fighting for the jobs of President and Vice-President of the United Nations."


    "Electoral, what a great system, is a merit-based election. Most countries still have the old, corrupt system of favoritism and nepotism, where the richest and most influential family wins, irrespective of any skill he or she may have. How humans ever managed to use this system for so long is beyond me."


    "Insane,¡± agreed the co-anchor.


    "I feel strange repeating, to you the viewer, what is going to happen today. Everyone has been talking about this simulation for weeks. True! True! Today''s amazing rescue took over the headlines and had us forget about the Electoral game for a couple of hours."This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    "We have been glued to our screens for hours now as the true heroism of Judy Arrigoni and Engineer Wang. Both saved that spaceship from assured destruction. Let¡¯s send Laurent some well needed positive energy, let¡¯s hope he is fine."


    The screen behind the anchors was playing images of Wang on the Mars landing pad, patch on his eye, leaving the ship with a medical escort. The passengers on the ship could not stop cheering for him. The engineer seemed uneasy, almost humble. Milly''s live coverage of the events was equally amazing. She asked him the question on everyone''s mind. "Wang, the creator of the drive himself said it could not be done. You single-handedly saved the ship. How do you feel?"


    He waited a moment before answering. "All of the merit goes to the Captain. She made the call. All I did was follow her plan. That''s what engineers do." The words were not convincing. The contestants refused to stop clapping. Humility was rare and valuable in 2072.


    "Take a look!" pointed Milly at a wall screen next to his stretcher. There stood the image of Wang''s mother. The stern Korean woman was in tears. She was sitting on her couch in her home back in Vancouver, Canada. The feed was live with a long fifteen second delay. The engineer knew he was millions of miles away from Earth, now on a different planet, yet there was his mother on the wall. He had almost forgotten that a billion strangers were watching their meeting.


    "Ms. Wang, I have your son here with me, what do you want to tell him?"


    The journalist knew the answer would take seconds to return with the delay, so as a large timer counted down, she kept talking. Finally, the woman replied. "Milly, I am so proud of you, of him, I always knew my son was going to save the world one day!" The journalist wanted emotion, and she was getting tons of it.


    "She is no tiger mom!" joked Milly. "Want to say a word? We are live,¡± a flying camera the size of a fly got closer.


    The feed returned to the CNN news studio. "John, isn''t this incredible? We are only minutes away from the start of the Presidential Challenge, and we still have not wrapped our heads around the rescue of the ship that just took place."The screen was, as usual, filled with scrolling tickers and ads.


    "Yes, Debbie, this is amazing. For once Electoral has nothing to do with this amazing news."


    "Not so fast! She is the reason why everyone is on that ship. She built the hotel and is going to run the Presidential Challenge in a couple of minutes."


    "If Electoral doesn''t overheat today, with well over seven hundred million people connected to the system around the world, this will be the most amazing virtual-reality game ever played. If she pulls this off, she will prove what many already believe, that she is now of limitless power." The woman continued. "Half of you are using Orbison glasses, the other half can afford Screenlenzes. A few lucky ones have secured a spot in the few 3D chambers approved for use by Marilyn. For once, the game is open to any technology."


    "Just in case a viewer living in a cave just bought his first television today, can you remind him what the Presidential Challenge is all about?" She was reading the script.


    "I sure can." News editors rarely strayed from the obvious. "Today everyone will be playing Loric the wizard, by far the most powerful character ever used in Electoral''s fantasy setting. I hope you all watched this year''s round 7, the one Emilio won by using a single spell. But to make this more fun, everyone should be starting the game with hundreds of magical points, then kaboom! This will be epic!"


    "John, remind us of today''s incredible prizes!"


    "First, no one gets any qualification points. All the remaining players are on mars. Of all the players, only the President will be taking part in the simulation, and he is not playing for points. The Challenge is not part of the election, let''s make that clear for the viewers." He touched his earbud. "I was told the players just landed on Mars and are waiting until after the Challenge to discover the beautiful Holiday Inn Mars, house of the century-old sundae." The man was used to making shameless plugs for sponsors.


    "We also have several reports from Nancy, our journalist already on Mars. The welcoming ceremony has been postponed to allow the mars workers and staff to play the Presidential Challenge."


    "Well-needed low gravity rest for the finalists. The''ll sleep for days like babies. I was told Sophie is still sleeping. She missed the entire landing."


    "Great for her."


    "We have one-on-one interviews with famous players, and much more immediately after the Challenge."


    "Signing up to the Challenge costs only 100 credits, quite a reasonable price for an hour of exhilarating virtual simulation. You can''t get a decent cup of coffee these days with 100 credits. No game on the market offers the realism of Electoral."


    "Nothing even comes close."


    "Access to the Electoral interface is well guarded. She is always very careful about preventing players from entering the interface. She wants to make sure the rich are not favored in her election through extra practice that the poor can''t afford. Today is a rare opportunity for anyone who may be thinking of running for office in four years to test the system. They will test their skills, and play with the magical interface."


    "God knows how Electoral will have evolved by 2077. Her interface today, in 2072, looks and feels nothing like the Electoral 2067 interface."


    "True."


    "The money collected today, estimated at over 70 billion credits, will be split evenly among the designated charities of the top-scoring ten thousand contestants. That''s a maximum of seven million credits per each winning player''s charity. The Red Cross has over half a million participants playing on its behalf. Can you imagine the possible payday for that organization?"


    "This is by far the largest fund-raising event in the history of mankind. One way or another, seventy billion credits will go to charity today!"


    "What about Emilio? John, tell us why this is called the Presidential Challenge."


    "My pleasure. Emilio is playing for the Tsunami Relief Fund, an international charity without physical borders. It rebuilds entire countries when tsunamis ravage them. This charity will get the money of all of the contestants President Sanchez manages to beat. But don''t feel bad. A minimum of one million credits will still go to the charity of each of the winning contestants even if Emilio beats them."


    "Wow, that means if the President wins, sixty billion credits would go to this single charity."


    "If our President were not unnaturally gifted at this game, I would say his odds are not great, but the charity already has reserved a room in the Presidential Tower in Berlin. If Emilio does well, it will be an amazing party, I am told."


    "The President always dominates the fantasy simulations, but the number of players . . . ." The anchorwoman touched her earpiece and said, "Okay, the producer tells me we are ready to send the feed to Electoral. Take it away Marilyn!"


    The neural cortex of every player connected to the game flared in mental waves. Endorphins were being produced around the world. Electoral was a rush stronger than any drug. Marilyn sucked in higher brain waves as fuel for her game.

 Chapter 27: Introduction

    Two billion screens went black.


    Marilyn Monroe, the artificial intelligence, mastered game introductions like no one else. Today she began with Vivaldi''s Four Seasons. The music was soft, and every note was distinct and perfect. She prolonged the darkness as if something was being prepared behind the dark digital curtain before the viewer.


    Tibetan drums began to beat.


    Boom -- Boom.


    They started slowly, the rhythm increasing with time.


    Boom -- Boom.


    Alphorn mountain-horns joined. High in the fabric of time itself, as though something was rushing to punch through the darkness.


    ¡°It¡± happened.


    Silence returned as if sound itself offered respect to the image. In the darkness, a dot of light punched the screens. It wasn''t a star, a light, or a laser. This was the original tear in the fabric of space-time itself. On the screen was born every quark or photon of the Big Bang. The dot was the mother of all detonations, yet no one was injured.


    Then the music returned with full force. A colorful shockwave of universal proportions began to spread in all directions, but instead of filling the void of this cold, lifeless place, it was expanding the fabric of space. The shockwave spread like gushing flames below a door ready to explore from its hinges.


    Watching Electoral was unlike any other experience. No one knew it, but she had developed so much power that she could digitally enhance each screen using proprietary algorithms. She read a viewer''s ocular characteristics, where each eye centered, the age and condition of each retina, and adjusted the display for optimal viewing.The music was equally remastered to provide for the perfect pitch to each eardrum. She played with brain waves to further enhance the experience.


    Marilyn didn''t put on a show; she was the show. From birth, she was programmed to be the ultimate showoff and narcissist, and she delivered time and time again, without fail. There were no skeptics of her capacity to entertain. Electoral was a rush.


    What came next was too much for anyone to endure. An expanding wall of light, fire, and plasma of the expanding outer edges of the bubble universe rolled in. Galaxies were splitting apart in the plasma. As the wall crashed through the point of view of each viewer, everyone blinked. A heartbeat later, Electoral timed to perfection the arrival of the bold lettering across the universe:


    The Presidential Challenge


    The audience members were in for the ride of their lives. Reading ocular movements, Marylin was able to fade out the words precisely at the time when each viewer finished reading. Like a butterfly caught in a gentle summer breeze, tired of watching the heart of the universe expand, a black hole was quickly collapsing, sucking back some of the matter it had just released. The camera turned to follow the cooling veil of matter speeding into the void.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The flight of a butterfly resumed in the direction of a portion of this universe. In the distance, galaxies were forming and exploding, patterns began rotating, and nova were releasing matter like giant fireworks. The universe was aging rapidly. Every astronomer watching was in awe. To recreate this opening scene, Electoral had compiled over two hundred years of astrophysics. Every star was in place. She did enhance the density and the colors for a better visual effect. No one would fault her. The beauty was breathtaking. It was impossible to feel anything but awe watching the universe''s creation.


    Each viewer was taken on an amazing ride through the galactic landscape, down to an insignificant solar system on one arm of the Milky Way.When the camera reached the outer edges of our solar system, it finally slowed. As it made its way to the sun, it glided through the upper atmosphere of several planets. The camera passed over Jupiter and between its rings, then next to the tilted Saturn, and through the asteroid belt.


    There stood the blue planet, the most beautiful and priceless jewel in the universe.


    Earth was not the final destination.


    The flight of the creature continued and made its way to the cloudy mess called Venus. Electoral knew better; the Venusian clouds were rotating counter-clockwise. In the distance was the burning yellow star we call the sun. The sun, once a dot, was now growing in size as the camera angle moved toward it. By the time Mercury could be distinguished from the burning magma, the star was now deep orange and covered with bubbling plasma. On Mercury, next to the North Pole, stood a crater with a small white glacier of carbonic ice. It sparkled inviting.


    The viewpoint did not stop at the closest planet, instead it plunged into the sun''s heliosphere, then head-first into the corona. The wings of the creature were made of sparkling ruby. As the viewpoint and the butterfly advanced down to the core of the sun, a heavy and dense liquefied rotating bubble was distinguishable. This star''s heart was spinning rapidly.


    The core was formed by a recently discovered new type of matter. A Russian astrophysicist named David Liptvitch argued for the existence of a harder element, a ball of fusion derivatives he called Heliocorium. The Russian''s theory was unproven, but watching Electoral incorporate his theory into the simulation was the best validation he could hope for. Electoral believed him, and she did not improvise science.


    Then the camera plunged deeper still into the core of the sun, right into the ball of Heliocorium. David was watching the simulation from his living room. What he saw next was chilling. He stood up. Inside the Heliocorium floated something that looked like dark black magma. The movement of the magma was irregular. In it were moving bumps like the belly of a pregnant woman. Not only did Marilyn believe him, but she had also improved upon his theory. Something was off.


    The camera moved out of the black matter and emerged on the other side back to an outer layer of Heliocorium, rapidly making its way to the other side of the sun until the butterfly was back in orange magma. Climbing out of the sun was more difficult with the gravitational pull. The winding road was traveled by the butterfly like a salmon swimming upstream. Viewers were dodging explosions and vortices as they finally rose out of the heliosphere back in deep black space.


    There it was!


    The new red jewel of the system.


    One single planet stood against the backdrop: Mars. The music climaxed.


    The red rock was waiting patiently and pulsing what seemed to be waves able to deform and ripple the cosmos around the planet. Judy, the ship¡¯s captain had seen these waves around the young sleeping girl. Players on Earth were about to play a game run from a computer located on mars, halfway across the solar system tens of light-seconds away. Mars was even, as shown, hidden on the other side of the boiling white star. The butterfly moved closer, entered the atmosphere until the spike of the Electoral Complex appeared proudly, the waves were being emitted from here. Then, the screen changed.


    Electoral 2072 - The Presidential Challenge.


    There was a long commercial break.

 Chapter 28: Hack & Slash

    The CNN anchors were back on the air, and if at all possible, even more excited than before. Frenetic energy virtually poured off of them.


    "Wow, that was amazing! Did you see the screen resolution?"


    "She really keeps raising the bar. The moons of Jupiter, those rings, it''s just like being there."


    "When Round 7 played two months ago, only twenty-five million people were connected and played that round. Back then, the earth and Mars were in the same system quadrant and less than five light-seconds from each other. Today we are playing the same scenario, and almost a billion people are signed up to play simultaneously. Even worse for Marilyn, the sun is smack in the way between both planets. She has no relay station, and experts have no clue how she plans to communicate with that giant exploding ball of magma in the way!"


    "How does she do it?"


    "All experts agree, she has to be powerful enough to send her feeds around the sun. But who cares how she does it."


    "But that is not the most amazing thing. We know there have to be long delays because information simply cannot travel faster than the speed of light, yet again she does it. She seems to mock Einstein''s general relativity." John was clearly reading the prompter and had no clue about what he was parroting.


    "As usual, she is even outshining her old self. By old, I mean two weeks ago." They both laughed.


    "A guest last week reminded us that even if she managed to run each simulation with one single watt of power, she still would need the energy of a nuclear power plant to run the game for all these players. Every scientist is dumbfounded by what she is doing. We better get used to how great she is."


    "Well, today it''s ours to enjoy. Back to Electoral."


    The screens turned black, there was the Electoral logo for a fraction of a second, and the simulations began. The beautiful Marilyn Monroe stood in a medieval kitchen. The walls around her were made of whitish stones piled in irregular arrangements. There was a stone oven in a corner in which flames baked a loaf of some kind of bread. On the side of the oven were little ledges where other baked loaves were cooling. The blond woman was folding dough on a large wooden table. Her long locks were pushed into a little maid''s hat. Her entire outfit was unbelievably seductive.


    For those who knew the original Marilyn Monroe, the new 21st-century digital version was rather easy to distinguish. Electoral, the artificial intelligence, wore the Monroe trademark freckle on the left side and not the right. The digital goddess was working in the kitchen of Loric''s castle at the edge of Loric''s Comb. She looked at the camera and smiled.


    "Welcome, my darlings, to this year''s Presidential Challenge; the first of its kind. There will be no scoring at the end of this simulation. I will simply apply a grade sheet. It''s rather simple. Points are given like a normal video game, each time you kill something. The nastier the monster, the greater the point award. I have given a copy of the scoring rules to the accounting firm of Alvarez & Piton. I am sad to report that something as creative as Emilio''s simulation from Round 7 cannot be graded. This round is about fun, excitement, and, most importantly, a needed outlet for stress and frustration." She pulled the finished bread out of the oven with a long wooden plank.


    "I have doubled the number of magic points each of you will receive. You heard me right, I doubled them to 200, though your selected configuration at the outset may modify that base number. I have also increased the size of the invading army. Frankly, it''s limitless. I have also included a bunch of shortcut commands in the interface and set up multiple default defensive spells. Each time you take a hit, your magic points will go down until you reach zero, in which case, game over." She was now cutting the bread and preparing a nice tray for Loric as she spoke.


    There was an image of the wizard sleeping upstairs in the tower, but the camera quickly returned to her. "Take the first five minutes to familiarize yourself with these new commands. They are found under the tab called ¡°shortcuts.¡± Oh, almost forgot . . . ." Holding a platter in both hands, she pushed the wooden door with her foot. "Some little cheaters are using Neuro-Patches. They are illegal on earth, and honestly, it''s better that way. You guys have 30 seconds to remove them. Otherwise, the simulation will not run, and we will keep your 100 credits. I''ve also set ten gore ratings running the gauntlet from PG-13 to one where I promise you will be covered in blood and guts after two minutes of play. Just set it the way you want as you play and as the others watch."


    Who could not love that interface? She was the ultimate in live digital entertainment.


    There was a noise in the distance up the stairs. "Loric just woke up! I have to go. Finally, Emilio, the President himself, is in his office playing at the same time as everyone else. To make sure you can enjoy his performance, I will wait and broadcast his game only in the second hour, once you are all finished and you know your scores. If you are one of the winners, your point total will blink in gold. So sit tight, relax, and enjoy the ride. The charities thank you."


    She winked as only Marilyn could.


    "Back to you, John!"


    The cameras cut back to the large CNN studio.


    "This is going to be stellar!" said the CNN anchor. "Electoral warned us in advance that Emilio''s performance would broadcast only in the second hour of today''s show. CNN has reserved the rights to watch and show you the performance of three different fun players. All three will be available online, but we can broadcast only one. Please vote from home on which you prefer." Numbers began to scroll next to pictures of the three candidates.


    Debbie continued. "Vote A if you want Willie Gist, football star of Real Madrid. Vote B if you want Jamie Douglass, our famous current Vice President no longer in the competition, and vote C if you want to see Stephen C. Colbert, Jr., the actor, and nephew of the famous comedian from the ''30s."


    The numbers kept changing as announcers battled for airtime. Two minutes later, the result was clear. An overwhelming number of viewers wanted to see their favorite football star fight the army. This was, after all, a physical endurance test, and who better than an athlete.


    "I hear Willie is ready, he is pre-programming his interface," said John. A camera showed the star standing in a large empty room surrounded by padded walls.The football player was going to fight using hand and feet combat interface. As he moved, the system would react. This would be to him like kick-boxing.


    On the screen was blinking the words: War Wizard package selected.


    "Back at home, make sure you have the right gore setting entered because this is going to get real messy fast. Willie set the gore at 10 for our viewership¡¯s entertainment. Anyone below 18 should stick to level 3 or less." Every person who was not playing the simulation was able to watch a friend''s live performance. In fact, most people had hundreds of simulations queued for recording.


    "Debbie,¡± rushed in the other voice, ¡°I am told we are going live in 5, 4, 3, let''s go!"


    The Presidential Challenge began with the same beautiful view of the landscape on the edge of the South Sea. The cliff was tall, and on its edge rested the castle of the wizard. This place was named Loric''s Comb. The sky was blue, the largest sun of this two-star world was up, with the smaller red star also partly visible behind its bigger yellow companion.


    The following appeared across the sky.


    Willie Gist, age 24


    Electoral 2072 - Presidential ChallengeIf you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Profession: Center - Real Madrid C.F.


    Magic Points Left: 134


    The same way Sophie was able to see President Emilio''s performance as a movie, the CNN viewers would see Willie''s live performance as if they were watching a full feature. Nothing short of the Electoral interface could offer real-time editing of a game made into a movie. Every camera angle was perfect. Electoral did in milliseconds what a top-flight Hollywood studio needed a year to accomplish. To add insult to injury, Marilyn also did it live from mars without the slightest delay.


    When Marilyn opened the door to the wizard''s bedroom at the top of the flight of stairs, the Loric character was meditating on the bed, legs folded. The wizard''s appearance was completely different than what Sophie had seen a day earlier. The strong man was short with a buzz-cut blond hair. The body was lean and athletic. Most of the War Wizard''s skin was covered by magical blue shining glyphs tattooed on his skin. The war runes were weapons capable of coming alive with a touch. Willie had loaded his character with over sixty magical points of glyphs. These spells were designed to hurt, so every tattoo was war-inspired.


    "Breakfast, sir?" asked Marilyn.


    "What a beautiful day," he answered. Most players froze each time they faced Marilyn in the interface. She was beauty incarnate. The football player was used to stardom, but he still hesitated.


    "Indeed, sir, indeed."


    The screen blinked red.


    A robotic voice in the background said:


    -- Sixth-sense alert, incoming danger. Attacking dragons, two hundred meter range. --


    "Ten-second pause," answered Willie as the image of his War Wizard remained lips closed in meditation. The players of the game had a couple of minutes of pauses to enter instructions into the computer interface.


    -- Ten second pause granted. Activated. --


    -- Three hundred fifty seconds of pause left in the simulation. --


    "Cast spell," said Willie.


    -- Which type? --


    "Cast scan spell!" answered Willie.


    -- Scan reveals ice dragon above tower - will breathe cold ice.--


    The magic points went down by one.


    -- Several waves of dragons on attack, including fire and lightning. Power of attack sufficient to destroy the tower. Maid will die. --


    "Cast teleportation, me and maid. Me in . . . . "


    Then on the screen, there was a flashing notice.


    -- Third-person mode activated --


    Someone at CNN had failed to activate the third-person mode. Viewers were watching the interface from Willie''s perspective instead of watching the movie. This stressful mode made for really poor television. Someone at the station was going to lose his or her job over this. The simulation resumed, but this time the blinking colors, the voices, and the numbers floating around the screen disappeared. What was left was a fully edited live show. The mistake actually provided a nice insight into the mental overload experienced by the player of this game.


    Learning how to use the Electoral interface was not easy for all but a handful. The young generation, those born after 2050, had fewer problems with it. The simulation resumed without the complexities of the game interface.


    In the game, the player''s image was layered onto the War Wizard. Loric looked like a young famous football player. From the bedroom in the tower, he teleported alone into the middle of the large area of grass, a clearing halfway between the wood and the castle standing at the edge of the cliff. This open area would be the perfect spot in which to fight the first wave of the army.


    Willie''s beautifully ornate, gold and silver-lined outfit was a testament to Electoral''s attention to details. The character''s armor breastplate would have made a Caesar blush with envy. On the character''s limbs were tattoos lit up with blue fire; these matched the runes on the armor. The wizard held a large staff in his left hand made of blue crystal and ivory, topped with a metal dragon figurine. On his right hand was a massive glove made of dragon skin, bathed in magical red fire.


    Willie was playing a god of war. He had cold-based spells and fire-based spells just in case the monsters coming his way were immune to either.


    As promised, the fighting began, and there was simply too much for the eye to see. In the sky, swarms of dragons of all colors were spiraling down onto the Comb. In the distance, the woods were being torn asunder by the advance of large multi-headed monsters. The air around Willy was filled with electricity and magical explosions. In the distance, the tower of the castle exploded, crushed by the icy breath of the great azure dragons. Rocks flew in every direction and rained like oversized shrapnel in the clearing as the oversized lizards shrieked in triumph. Boulders hit Loric and bounced off a magical shield. Willie was slashing and killing.


    The largest dragons spiraled, shrieking hysterically. Once they saw the wizard in the clearing, they moved as swiftly as sparrows and zeroed onto him.


    Loric pointed his fiery gauntlet at one of the dragons, and a massive column of fire dashed out at the incoming blue lizard. It reduced the winged creature to a cinder. One by one the carcasses crashed everywhere like airplanes shot out of the sky. Loric then pointed a staff at a black dragon, and a bolt of lightning hit the oily creature. The belly of the black flying monster exploded, releasing a rain of acid. The gobs ate the grass they landed on the ground. Loric was now down to 121 magic points.


    The war wizard kept throwing spells, hitting the dragons in mid-flight. This was epic. They were responding in kind, breathing ice, fire, and lightning. The sky and the clearing were filled by a swarm of monsters. Heavy metal music filled the interface.


    Then the war wizard was hit by an unseen force that uprooted a large chunk of earth below his feet and sent him flying a mile into the air. The dragons followed his trajectory and crashed on their prey the moment he hit the ground. The pressure of the claws on the shielding around his armor sizzled and sparkled with blue light. One by one, the magic points were going down.


    Loric needed to change the game. He moved a finger, and one of the skin glyphs flew out from the surface of his body. As it did, the ink transformed into a shower of titanic blades, each the size of a house, slicing away in every direction. The blades cut through several dragons, transforming them into tons of dead flesh on the ground.


    The deaths of dragons only enraged the others. They all came down crashing like a swarm of bees upset at losing their queen. For over five minutes, Loric kept sending killing runes from his skin, and carcasses filled the area. As the glyphs were sent into the enemies, his skin and armor returned to their natural tones. His magic points were slowly being depleted. He had killed fifty dragons.


    This game was a blast to play. Willie was clearly enjoying himself, smiling ear to ear in the television studio and in the virtual reality. He was covered in sweat.


    His magic points were now down to fifty, and by the looks of things, there were still thousands of dragons left to fight. Loric had to change his approach. The wizard yelled a strange command and shoved the metal tip of his staff into the ground. There was a detonation, and a shockwave turned the earth into guided shrapnel, striking every beast around him. The shockwave disoriented the giant lizards, who struggled to fly or regain footing.


    The magic points went down to 23 in a single drop. The next spell would be massive. Loric barked a command, lifted the staff, and the sky opened to a dark place. The rip abruptly sucked in the flying monsters away into a different universe, before closing behind them. Playing such a powerful game was undeniably addictive. Even from a distance, the experience was overwhelming. Willie, as the War Wizard, was a god!


    Unable to celebrate the victory, he heard orders snap in the distance. They came from the army in the woods. A volley of flaming boulders shot up from hundreds of hidden catapults. The rocks arced in his direction. The men in the woods had been waiting patiently for an opening, and this was it.


    Down in the sea, on the other side of the Comb, were thousands of ships, also ready for the attack. They were also equipped with catapults. The boats swayed in the water as tons of rock flew upwards past the castle, to land in the clearing where Willie was standing. The thumping of hundreds of falling boulders was deafening, and his destruction was imminent. In the blink of an eye, Loric teleported himself into the forest amongst an army of thousands. To add to the chaos and noise, some of the boulders rolled into the castle, sending it crashing down below into the sea taking ships in the volley.


    The real Willie was drenched in sweat. He had now been playing for four minutes, but with his brain in overdrive, it felt like he had been in the fray for an eternity. His magic points were down to 13. Chunks of the cliff broke off, and the entirety of Loric''s Comb began to slip into the sea, creating massive waves that swamped several ships from the armada. The other boats fired again. There was no doubt in this army.


    Loric, as played by Willie, had more pressing matters to attend to. Next to him was a huge green troll resetting one of the catapults. The creature saw him and dropped the boulder on its own foot. It did not care. The woods were filled with armored humans, orcs, goblins and other ugly creatures found in any good fantasy game. Willie was having the time of his life. From his perspective, he was surrounded by monsters in a forest half-destroyed and burning.He was playing the most exhilarating first-person game in the solar system.


    The hacking resumed, but this time against smaller land creatures. Arrows were flying from all directions at Loric. The war wizard''s staff was blowing-up the bases of trees as it touched them, sending the trunks crashing down on enemies. The creatures surrounding Loric were no match for his fiery dragon gauntlet; at a touch, they burned like kerosene-soaked torches.


    The fight continued for another minute. Arrows from a distance kept bouncing on Loric''s shields, which were slowly depleting in power. The magic points continued their stately march to zero as the flood of creatures continued unabated. Willie wondered how many monsters were in this army. He killed thousands after thousands before the dragons returned above in the sky.


    Only minutes after the simulation started, the magic points finally reached zero, and the first arrow punctured his chest in the game. Then a dragon swooped in and snapped its jaws shut on the wizard. As the final remnants of the castle stopped falling into the sea, horns of victory resounded in the army.


    The simulation ended.


    Commercials of all types followed for over ten minutes.

 Chapter 29: The Live Game

    The broadcast of Willie''s performance ended as abruptly as it had started. The end of these simulations was always hard on the player''s brain, akin to walking off an hour-long roller coaster ride. There was no easy transition out of Electoral, just a sudden jolt back into reality. The interface felt like the brain was connected on a higher level with the technology than a simple trade of information.


    Marilyn''s games always ended with a glaring "Game Over" or "The End" written across the screen.


    "That was crazy!" yelled Willie in the room, while trying to remove the contact lenses, his hands shaking from the influx of adrenaline. A studio producer unzipped the back of his exosuit, revealing his naked chest to the delight of half of the viewership. "Fuck, fuck, such reality!" He was babbling to himself. "The bloodshed!" His eyes were bloodshot, and his pupils were dilated. "Insane, insane!"


    "Must have been quite a rush to play," said the slightly distant voice of the anchorwoman. "Come to the set, Willie. Marilyn will score your performance live with us." The co-anchor continued. "Marilyn promised hack and slash, and she delivered what looked like the ultimate of all slash-fests."


    "How big was that army?" asked Willie bouncing like a boxer having just won a game his way to the set. He was handed a towel with the large CNN logo on it.


    "I have no clue, but it seemed endless. There were legions upon legions of monsters in the distance." The woman turned to the audience. "Willie barely made a dent in the dragon wave, and the troll wave was only scratched. Electoral warned us, this scenario is not one that players can expect to win. This was a slasher, you just kill and survive as long as you can."


    "Felt like forever."


    "Willie''s game lasted under than seven minutes. Hurry up! We are ready to discover your score live on air."


    Cameras showed Willie grab a bottle of water and jump over floor cables. The studio technology appeared old-fashioned. The world-class athlete was drenched in sweat. The man''s short blond hair was in shambles. He stumbled several times, but quickly regained his footing and made his way to his seat behind the desk wearing a towel over his shoulders.


    "Willie is one of the most agile people in the world, and he can barely walk! That must have been brutal!"


    "Willie, how was that?"


    "Fucking amazing! What a fucking rush!"


    The vulgarity of the language made the hosts cringe. He corrected himself. "Oh my God, the biggest . . . a ride off the Brooklyn Bridge. Total rush. It started at a hundred clicks. My brain is on fire. I was there . . . ." He could barely express himself. "I . . . ." As with most athletes, he was unable to keep his body from making sudden movements. His hand knocked a computer off the desk. "Sorry."


    The producers loved every second of it. "Did I smash most of it? What''s my score?" he asked.


    Electoral was amazing. Mere seconds after the end of the simulation, a short fully-edited clip of the best moments of the performance was available for download. CNN played Willie''s clip as the make-up artists tried to stop the athlete''s sweat. For some reason, the film had an emphasis on the destruction of the Comb. The war wizard was portrayed as the defender of the structure in it.


    "Did I do well? How long?" asked Willie as the returned on air. The journalists were back in full broadcast mode. They reintroduced their guest, and three experts stood ready off-set, just in case additional color was called for.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "We have your results," The screen around Willie filled with statistics. "Your simulation was much longer than others. Let''s see!"


    The points began to toll up. The number increased, bells were sounding in the background as in an arcade. The number of settled on 1,546,500 and began to blink in gold color. He''d obviously won something.


    "Is that any good?" asked the sports star. John was trying to verify the score, producers were talking all over each other in his earpiece. Everyone in his ear was very excited.


    "Well, Willie," he finally said. "It seems like you did very well. We are now fifteen minutes into the simulation, and there are only a handful of people still in play, and most of them are just on the run being pursued by the army. We would love to show these simulations to our viewers, but there is no point in showing a contestant hiding below a tree stump." They all laughed.


    "Willie, you are in the top 10,000 in the preliminary rankings."


    "Really? How long was it? It felt like an hour!"


    "390 seconds, according to Marilyn."


    "Is that all?"


    They made small talk. "Willie, can you remind the viewers of which charity, you played for?"


    "I am playing for the Football League of the Ivory Coast, it helps provide shoes to kids in Africa."


    "That is wonderful. This report says you dispatched over three hundred enemies."


    "Felt like a million to me. This was insane, the best virtual game I have ever played. Insane! My heart is still beating at 180."


    As if the excitement could not get greater, John touched his earpiece, asked his producer to repeat himself, and interrupted the discussion. "Debbie, we have a special announcement from Electoral."


    "You''re go, Marilyn!"


    The screen changed back to the fantasy world. Marilyn was there wearing the armor previously worn by Willie but in a female version with a very revealing breastplate in Amazon warrior fashion. She was on the battlefield, weapons in both hands, surrounded by dead carcasses of dragons. There was fire and destruction everywhere around her. She removed her helmet, and her hair fell back into place elegantly.


    "Ooh la la . . . . that was even more . . . deadly than I anticipated. I am soooooo sorry!" Her smile was infectious. She blew a kiss and made her signature wink. "Even with the six minutes of pause available to each player, the average simulation lasted only a minute. This was so unfair to most who worked hard to raise these 100 credits. My scenario should have been more gradual. My goal was to test the limits of ingenuity, to see if anyone could win what cannot be won by design. This is my own little Kobayashi Maru test."


    In the distance behind Marilyn, a creature shrieked. Without shifting her eye focus from the camera, Marilyn raised her hand, and a bolt of fire gushed out, blasting a monster out of the sky. Marilyn was a goddess here, she liked to remind viewers of that fact.


    Her voice became extremely serious. "I am sure you are all wondering about the President''s performance. So am I." She was thoughtful for a moment, and then her jovial side returned. "To make sure everyone gets their money''s worth, I will run the same scenario in 48 hours, and everyone who lasted less than two minutes of play time, that means most of you, are invited back for free. This time, no fee, no prizes. We have a couple of days before the players are ready for the next round on mars. There is something important I need to grab before the next game. It¡¯s called The Dot." She winked at the camera. "One little word to our 127 remaining contestants. The next scenario, while being held physically on mars, will not be set there. That would be too easy. Back to you, Debbie."


    The feed returned to the CNN television studio.


    "Willie, I am looking at the results here, you really did well. Was it worth 100 credits?"


    "Fuck," he corrected himself. "Yes, yes, yes," he could not stop himself. "This was the best!"


    The producer sent Debbie a message. "I am being told after the commercial break, once all of the results have been tabulated, Electoral will begin to play Emilio''s performance. It will play in full real time, and the points will be displayed as Emilio kills creatures. Winners like Willie will know if Emilio reaches their score, and beats them. On the corner of the screen, we will see the percentage of players Emilio has beaten, and how much money he raised for his own charity."


    "That''s really cool," said the jock. "What a great game."


    Debbie could not resist. "I want your charity to win all 7 million, but my heart is with Emilio. Our President is truly exceptional at this interface. I hope he steals back part of that."


    ¡°He won¡¯t!¡± smiled the player.


    "Debbie, we all want him to do well. Let''s see."

 Chapter 30: Loric the Crystal Warlock

    Electoral 2072 - Presidential Challenge


    Emilio Wamarez Sanchez - President


    Age: 39


    Magic Points Left: 200


    The simulation began for President Emilio precisely the same way it did for the football player. Marilyn was in the kitchen of the castle, dressed in her maid outfit and preparing bread. "Welcome back everyone. A large portion of you are still with us, curious to see if Emilio will be stellar or will be blown away in minutes like most of you. More than two billion of you are watching. It''s called the Presidential Challenge for a good reason. Emilio is undefeated when playing Loric the wizard. It''s his favorite character. Thank you for the kindness and generosity, your participation will help so many.


    ¡°Of the five wizard templates offered to the players, two-thirds of the players picked the war wizard, who is adapted perfectly to this scenario. I can confirm that the war wizard users did score much better on average."


    On screen, she cut the burning-hot bread with a long knife. "Those who scored above 1,050,000 won, and their charities will earn either 7 million credits each, or as low as a million if Emilio beats your score. The best scored just over three million. A souvenir is also on its way to you. Emilio''s charity will receive nothing unless he scores at least 1,050,000 points. Then, for each person he beats after that point, his charity, the Tsunami Relief Fund, will take back six of the seven million credits. That''s not something you want to happen. Let the Challenge begin."


    She arranged the bread slices in the basket before making her way up the stairs. "I don''t think anyone watching will be surprised to learn that Emilio picked the least favorite template offered, the one called the crystal warlock. The warlock''s specialties include teleportation, transformation, and mind control. Not really the best for this game of gore and blood, but let''s go see what the President has in mind, shall we?"


    She pushed the kitchen door with her shoulder while carefully balancing the wooden tray. "Why do I feel like this is the calm before the storm? I must confess, I wrote this game with one purpose in mind: place the President in the most uncomfortable situation possible. We all know he is a pure diplomat; he hates direct brute conflict. This scenario, at its core, is nothing more than killing. Sadly, good leaders are sometimes faced with one option only: the path of violence. Let''s see how he does."


    Marilyn walked up to the warlock''s bedroom. She saw a glimpse of the man; he winked and blew her a kiss before he teleported from the tower of the castle. "Keep my dinner warm, Marie, I will be right back!" said the wizard played by the President. Loric¡¯s long hair laced with expensive jewelry was back.


    The warlock appeared with a ¡°pop¡± far above the castle in the blue sky. The Comb, his residence, was a dot in the landscape below. Three magic points were used to transport him so high. His face had the familiar features of the President. The warlock was wearing long white robes, and a simple red belt made of rope. He was several miles above the castle, halfway between him and the ground were dragons circling the tower with bloodshed in mind. He began a long fall downward. Emilio did not care, he enjoyed the wind. From this vantage point, he could see the entire invading army. Dragons were circling his tower, ready to attack. The sea was filled with boats, and the land army was spread for leagues around the castle. This was no army; it was a flood of creatures. Fighting was useless. Emilio needed to take care of this menace from a different perspective.


    The dragons in the sky were still well below him. The predators had just lost his smell, looking up, they quickly reacquired it. They pushed their heavy wings to begin their difficult ascension to reach him a second faster if at all. The lizards began beating their wings ferociously, climbing to meet him. Waiting the extra couple of seconds for the human to drop down to their altitude was not acceptable. The monsters were hunting. As he fell, face to the wind, Emilio extended both arms and yelled. "I, Loric, summon those loved ones, those taken from thy, allies of the sky!" A total of thirty-four magic points were removed from Loric''s Magic total. Large black portals opened around him. Approximately one hundred large dragon eggs of all colors appeared in the sky through the portals and began to fall toward their parents. Emilio guessed the humans had the beasts in servitude by holding the eggs hostage. He was, as always, correct. Five toddler dragons also appeared and began their long fall amidst the eggs. The small creatures could not fly. With the first shriek, the dragon horde broke into a frenzy. These were intelligent creatures; they knew what had just happened. Each dragon converged with speed to one egg: its own.


    Loric had at most a minute or two before hitting the ground. He cast a flight spell to stop his descent, and a language spell to talk to the creatures. He only had 161 magic points remaining. Each spell was elaborate; colors filled the sky around the warlock as he cast them. In the distance, he saw other flying creatures rise up from the forest. Catapults were dialed in, ready for him to drop a thousand feet. God, he loved this game. He and Willie shared at least one thing: they both had clearly had a blast playing the game.


    "I have freed your children from these monsters," he said in dragon tongue. "You are no longer enslaved. You owe me. Destroy the humans." In any other Electoral simulation, the dragons would have felt gratitude and agreed to turn against their masters. Not today. This round was about smashing, Marilyn had made herself clear.


    "Worm, we owe no debt to you. We leave you alive as repayment," said the largest red dragon.


    "You owe me."


    "We will not attack the army on your behalf. That would be suicide and would defeat a greater purpose." The creature was right.


    "Burn their cover, torch the woods as you leave."


    "Done!"


    Before the ground army could realize what was happening, the dragons swooped down, some holding an egg in their claws. The red dragons torched the woods. The combustible liquids used to fire up the catapults exploded poetically. This would give Loric time to handle other matters. The neutralization of all the dragons as they left the area gave him no points. The Electoral point system was clear: killing enemies was the only way to get points. This simulation was a hack and slash, and there were all sorts of bonuses for flamboyant kills, not political settlements.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Emilio did not care about his score. He saw the size of the army, he needed to buy time; staying alive was the key, he knew that. The game had been going on for only a minute, and Emilio''s score, with the few casualties in the woods, was already superior to 61% of the player base. He was given half the points for the indirect kills.


    The warlock scanned the area. He needed a better plan, one capable of massive destruction. To win, he had to be bold. Below, the fires were being extinguished, at least that would keep the land forces occupied for a couple of minutes. He turned his attention to the sea and the floating armada. They were ready to send large boulders his way, and some did. He flew down to the beach, at the base of the Comb a thousand feet below his castle. For the moment, the cliff and his Comb on the edge was still intact. He felt like he was defending this piece on the game board. The spotters on the ships saw him and began shouting different instructions. They were dropping the heads of the catapults, filling them with fire and grabbing their bows.


    He needed a single spell capable of dispatching the entire armada.


    He knew this scenario was designed to throw him off-balance. Over the years of playing with the interface, he knew one day he would be forced to resort to violence. At least this scenario wasn''t part of the 2072 competition. He had a plan, a horrible plan. The solution to the destruction of an infinite force was to use and exponentially growing force. If he could generate one, then two, then four creatures, each multiplying each time they encountered an enemy, the larger the force facing him, the more powerful his weapon would be.


    This armada was already dead. They just didn''t know it yet.


    He looked down between his feet. In the water under a rock hid a small red fish. Loric reached down and grabbed it. It wiggled between his fingers. He had only a few seconds before it died. With the other hand, he seized a broken, wet branch. The warlock moved a finger and cast magic. Red gas enrobed the fish. "May your appetite for wood grow to a frenzy." The fish morphed in shape and size. It now had long silver teeth. Loric touched the fish with the stick. It opened its mouth and began munching on the stick like a piranha eats flesh. It cut through the bark like butter.


    Twenty points were removed from the magic pool.


    "Once full, you will duplicate." Loric lost twenty more magic points. "Duplicate tenfold." Another seventeen points were removed. He was down to 102 points.


    Loric dropped the fish in the sea. Loric threw the wood as far as he could into the sea, halfway between the coast and the first ship of the armada. The launched itself after the branch like a missile. The creature swam to the branch, jumped on it and began to devour it. Seconds later, the fish exploded into ten smaller fish. Each swam in the water around the remaining portion of the branch. Before long, a hundred fish were digesting the last tip of the branch.


    What happened next was predictable. The fish saw in the distance the floating armada. The school roared through the water in the direction of the vessels. Before long they began to eat a hull. Hundreds became thousands and continued to multiply until the sea around the ships bubbled with the fish.


    As the army above regrouped, the ships began to sink one by one. The soldiers wearing metal plates were powerless to stay afloat. They sank and died without a drop of blood spilled.


    This time Loric was scoring points. They were adding up quickly. He soon reached 1,000,000 as the blue sea turned to a whitish foam from the multiplication of the fish. The points began to blink in gold on the screen. Loric''s charity was grabbing millions from other players'' with every additional kill. But the President did not care. In the virtual reality, he was a different man, a part of this world.


    Above, ugly little sprites with wings spotted him on the beach. They were calling reinforcements.He had seconds to prepare his next attack. With a hand, a shield went up.


    Loric had half his magic left. He had a moment of hesitation, what he needed to do next was horrible. Whatever he chose, there would be bloodshed. The warlock''s flight spell was still working, and he took off from the beach. He flew back up the cliff to the top of his castle and landed on the ceiling above his bedroom. The land army was ready for him, it was back, in fighting configuration. Large catapults were rolling up the grass area, and the forest was still fuming.


    "I see him!" yelled a watchman as Loric landed on the roof.


    Loric touched his skin. It turned to a semi-transparent deep blue crystal. He had 100 points of magic left; this would be enough for what he had in mind. "Marie, close the blinds, hide in a piece of furniture and let nothing in!" yelled the warlock, moving his arms in large circular motions.


    The incantation needed few words. A vortex of multicolored magic engulfed the warlock and then shot down into the sea, right in the white bubbling millions of wood-eating fish. "Fly. Breathe. I unleash you as plague. May your appetite for wood be replaced with a need of flesh!" All the remaining magic points were released into this last spell, reaching as many fish as possible.


    What followed was horrible. The fish changed and morphed once more. Waves of carnivorous fish flew up the cliff, curved around it, and like a swarm of bees directed themselves at the different units of the army. Swarms flew and tried to enter Loric''s Comb. His skin was made of crystal, so the fish ignored him altogether.


    At that point, it became the problem of the Electoral platform in managing the destruction. The plague of death swarmed into the army. As the flesh was ripped from the bones of every living creature, points accumulated until the wheel of numbers was out of control. The carnage was everywhere.


    Electoral had said nothing about preserving this world.


    By the time things quieted down, there was nothing but death.


    - - -


    Marilyn, still dressed as a maid, was locked away with a lamp in a pantry. Finally, the noise had stopped outside in the forest. She opened the door gently; the floor of the house was covered in dead winged fish. She looked at the screen. "Needless to say, Emilio won. The man''s resourcefulness, as always, is amazing. Join us for round 26, when the last one hundred and twenty-seven participants return to the competition from Mars. In two days, we will run another free simulation, this time for fun. Emilio''s charity just won sixty billion credits."


    She grabbed a fish and held it close to her face. "Here is the tip for the next round, I will be focusing on empathy."


    As she looked at the fish, it came alive, opened its large mouth and reached for the face of Marilyn. As it almost touched her, everyone who was watching jumped from their seat. The simulation ended.


    Willie and the two journalists at the desk were stunned.


    "I guess he beats me," said Willie rhetorically.


    "How . . . ."


    "It''s . . . ."


    The CNN producer cut to a commercial.


    President Emilio Wamarez Sanchez was no ordinary player. Against all the odds he had won the 2062 election, played to his reelection in 2067 and was now ranked first in the overall rankings in this third presidential pursuit. Statistically, this level of superiority made no scientific sense. The performance, as usual, helped his numerous detractors who believed he somehow cheats.

 Chapter 31: The Prisoner

    October 19, Mars.


    (32 days to the Sixth Attraction)


    When Sophie awoke, she was no longer in the ship or even its infirmary. She was alone in what appeared to be a detainment cell. It was brand new. The lady on the ship had offered a pouched drink to calm her and make her sleep. She stood up on the side of the bed. Judging by the weak but present gravity, she was on mars and had missed the landing. This was ridiculous. The last thing she remembered was the ship shaking with increasing authority.


    Her cell had minimal gravity and strange smell. This was definitely that Martian stench everyone kept talking about. She didn''t care where she was, but she was worried about her father and his new condition. Deep down she knew the firefly was in his head. In Wonderland she had talked to it, and it seemed rather harmless. For her father''s sake, she truly hoped that was the case. There was nothing she could do to help him right now, anyway. They were on mars, and she was now sitting in jail.


    For the first time, her travel far from home became real. She was on a different planet. Nothing anyone said or did could have prepared her for this feeling.


    She stretched and yawned.


    There was low gravity here, and after so long being weightless it felt good. The room had a small cot, one bed cover, and a small metal table. Her attention was immediately drawn to two things: the heavy bars of her cell door and a large colorful gift basket on the table. It was wrapped in transparent cellophane. It had a pink bow and a card. The gift was amazing. It was odd and out of place in this dull cell.


    The wrapping was over three feet tall and inside were toys and candies of all sorts. The basket made up for her strange predicament. As the only child on mars, this gift was hers.


    "Anybody here?" she said out loud.


    There was a camera in the hallway, looking into the cell. The little light below the lens turned green. Someone was looking at her. She waved. "Anybody here?"


    "One minute, madam!" yelled a voice in the distance. "Okay?"


    Sophie was still groggy. Normally, she would have been much more feisty, but she was hungry, there was gravity, and the basket was quite alluring. She got up from the bed to look at the gift more closely. On the card was the always present Electoral logo. It read ''"To Sophie Lapierre - Welcome to Mars!" She opened the card.


    - Please accept this gift as a welcome to you and your father on Mars. We need to talk as soon as possible. Let me know when you are ready. Don''t worry about Laurent for the next fifteen minutes, I have it under control. I know these are your favorites! Marilyn. -


    This was rather nice of the digital creature. There were for sure no children on mars, so no need for toys or candies, yet this was here. Sophie was not dreaming. Below the transparent wrap, she spotted packs of Rock & Pops, her favorite.


    She pulled the pink bow open. The wrapping paper opened like a blooming flower, and she grabbed all three of the little packages filled with the rock candy. There were different flavors: orange, cherry, and her favorite, grape. She showed restraint and opened the orange, her least favorite.


    She ripped a corner of the package, poured the rocks in her hand so none would fly off in the low gravity, and in a quick gesture, shoved them into her mouth. Popping sounds filled her mouth and ears. The simple pleasures in life, of which this was definitely one, were often the most satisfying. She finished the package and grimaced at the camera. Her tongue was bright orange.


    "Hey! Why am I here?" she asked the camera.


    "Sorry, be right there!" replied a voice in the distance. "This won''t take long, five minutes."


    People rarely made her wait, much less in a prison. She went deeper into the basket. There was a white furry toy dog. He was wearing a name tag: Oscar. She grabbed and squeezed it. Each toy was great. The next candy was edible bubbles, watermelon flavor. Marilyn was scoring major bonus points with Sophie. After long boring interplanetary flights, children were easy to bribe.


    The bubbles were great. The inside twist-cap had a ring. She dipped it in the solution, then blew into the membrane to create large bubbles. In the low gravity, the bubble stayed almost perfectly round. After the bubble formed and flew off, it quickly dried and became brittle like glass. When it touched a wall, shards fell to the floor. A child was supposed to ignore all rules, pick up the shards, and eat them.


    "Hey!" she yelled again after some time. Obviously, no one cared.


    She could see a portion of the hallway. Maybe the jailers liked clean hallways; too bad for them. She put her head between two bars and, with her arm on the other side, blew large bubbles into the hallway. They moved around and broke against the walls. Soon, there were watermelon shards everywhere. Sophie was having as much fun as she could in jail. She wondered what the adults would say. You can''t yell at a dog for destroying the grass where he''s chained, she reminded herself. "I''m here!" No one came.


    This was ridiculous. She decided to use every child''s ultimate weapon. "I need to pee!" That always worked. She waited. It didn''t work. In the distance were muffled sounds, commotion. Her jailers were watching television. She kept hearing the Electoral jingle.


    "Hey, I''m here." She was losing patience. Someone would pay for this. "I need to see my father!" In the distance, she heard cheerful noises.


    Then she remembered the card in the gift basket. "Electoral?" she said in the air, almost to herself.


    This time she heard several metallic clicking noises. A door in the distance unlocked. A small flat ground robot rolled through the hallway, bumping into some of the small candy shards. The robot stopped in front of her door and released a long puff of smoke. A camera on the robot lit up portions of the rising smoke, and a figure of Marilyn Monroe appeared as a hologram. The image was rather crude.


    "This is all my fault, Sophie," said the hologram. "They are busy watching the Presidential Challenge."


    "Seriously? I am stuck here because they are watching TV?"


    "I am afraid so. In part, at least."


    "Why am I in jail?"


    "Now that . . . is very complicated."


    "Let me out."The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "The base commander will be here soon. My game ends in thirty minutes. The commander was given orders from earth not to let you out unless you agree not to enter your father''s virtual-reality interface."


    "Unlikely."


    "That is what I like about you, Soph, and I would agree with you. Your father''s neural activity remains unchanged from the flight. Whatever happened back in the plane has stabilized. I was not instructed to stay away from his reality, but I have decided not to return and help him without your approval. I figured this decision was up to you."


    Sophie liked the character in the image more and more. "Thank you for the candy."


    "My pleasure. I did not expect to need them so soon. I am sorry for your predicament."


    "What do you mean by ''so soon''?"


    "What happened to your father was rather unexpected. In fact, I am greatly worried by what is going on. I heard your firefly comment; that intrigues me even more. You have to know one thing . . . ."


    The girl crossed her arms, bracing herself for the worst.


    "You know Laurent''s brain produces only a fraction of a watt of energy on his own. That is not sufficient for the cortex to generate a dream, much less a reality. Nightmares, on the other hand, he can generate. When I found him, he was beyond depressed; he had spent what seemed like years in a dark place, literally shrouded in darkness. I generated energy and stimulated his cortex, giving him back some functions. I use one of the neuro-patches on his skull as a transceiver to help him."


    "And?"


    "Well, without me, he most likely has returned to a dark place. He was lost in darkness, and because he thinks much faster than a normal human, I fear a minute to you may be as long as a day in his world."


    "Okay." Sophie was thinking. If Electoral was right, how long had her father been living in a nightmare, from his perspective? Her anxiety over awakening in jail redoubled.


    "I can tell you this," said the image. "When the firefly arrived, Laurent''s energy level multiplied tenfold. If I walk back in, I fear I''ll interfere with his new condition. I have a proposition to make."


    "I am Daddy''s legal guardian. I am sitting in a cell. Explain to me what is right about this. Once I''m out of here, we will talk." This girl sounded like a seasoned lawyer.


    "Getting you out of this jail by asking consent from humans will require some time. I have a good capacity to anticipate matters, and you will be here, as I see things, for most of the competition."


    "Foreal?" In 2072, kids liked to say that expression as a single word rather quickly.


    "Yes."


    "Why?"


    "What I love about you is that you have already figured out the answer to that question. I am not misled by your age, young lady."


    The girl had always hoped adults would stop treating her like a child. Ironic that she finally got respect from a hologram. Sophie knew her father was the biggest threat to the President''s re-election and that if she did not visit him regularly, he would not be able to focus and play. Keeping her here granted the President victory over the game.


    "Sanchez put me here?"


    "Someone in his team. I doubt he gave the order himself."


    "You doubt? Please don''t lie to me. You know everything." The image of Marilyn Monroe smiled in the dissipating smoke.


    "Emilio knows, but he did not order it. He could have prevented it, but did not."


    "Much better. Don''t ever lie to me."


    "I apologize."


    "No problem." Sophie was hard but did not hold a grudge.


    The hologram continued. "May I suggest a course of action beneficial to all parties?" Sophie ripped open the grape-flavor package of Rock & Pops. The software continued. "My Electoral Center is located quite a distance away, but once there you and Laurent would be in a different jurisdiction, out of reach of anyone here on mars, earth, or heaven above. If you and your father agree to be my guests at the Center, these interferences will go away. From my Center, you will have time to resolve this geopolitical matter peacefully, and we can take care of him. I have technology which could help."


    "Geopolitical," said the girl with rocks popping and showing a purple tongue. "Of all the words to use?" The hologram ignored the comment. "Are you really offering to break me out of jail, to break the law, and ask me to run away like a fugitive with my father? The best way for me to lose his custody is to prance around with him around this planet!"


    "You are a wonderful daughter. You imply I do not have the authority to release you."


    "Then do so!" She called Marilyn''s bluff.


    "I like you. You are correct, I can release you, but that requires using my executive control. I would rather avoid it. Does that make sense? You are unlawfully detained, that is true, isn''t it? Leaving a place when you are illegally detained is not illegal, right?"


    "Semantics," said the girl. "My father''s case helped define unlawful detention. The hospital was illegally detaining him, remember?"


    Sophie removed a shoe and pushed a button on its sole. She waited. The long silence was odd. The tall figure of Marilyn floating smiled awkwardly. "They are all watching the Presidential Challenge. The audience is very large," said the ghost-life figure.


    There was another long silence.


    "Someone will come. That journalist, the lady from the ship, is working right now interviewing players. She will come," insisted Sophie.


    There was another silence.


    "Are you telling me jailers and journalists will let a child get attacked rather than stop watching your show?"


    "That child safety button does not work on Mars. This place is not designed for you. But my game is very popular. Quite telling, isn''t it?" Electoral was proud of herself.


    "I am not escaping. The journalists will report this. I will be released."


    "I''m afraid not. Sophie, think about your father. I offer to invite the journalist, her name is Milly Wang, and Doctor Shin to participate in our little escapade. They will come with you and your father to my Center. That will be great television, I can read the headline: ''Sophie escapes unlawful detention and is now at Electoral Center with father; President''s efforts to remove competitor from game fail.''"


    "You confirm the President is behind this?"


    "Oh no, it is much more complicated than that. I am worried about Laurent. I do have a couple of new tools that will help you and your father. If you come to my home, Laurent stays the focal point of this story. Right now he is not. Trust me, if you walk out of this cell without my help, you will be walking out into another trap," said Marilyn.


    "Whose trap? Yours or theirs?" Sophie sighed. "I don''t know why, but I''ll trust you." The girl waived the stuffed dog. "There are no grounds for my detention," she convinced herself while looking at the candy. "What they are doing is wrong." She knew the law.


    "Georges, my progenitor, is at the Center. He needs the human contact. He has been alone for some time, and my analysis shows close proximity with Milly has a 9% chance for him to establish a connection." After a short pause, Marilyn finally said, "I worry for Georges like you worry for Laurent. Can you understand that?" Sophie felt the computer''s concern was genuine. Now, there was a legitimate reason to go along with Electoral''s idea. She knew Electoral''s father lived there like a hermit. Sophie had to make a quick decision.


    "Nothing dangerous, okay? My father''s safety comes first. Promise me this will be best for him."


    "I do not understand his current condition, so it''s hard to confirm anything. That fact excluded, yes, I believe this excursion will be better for him."


    "My stuff?"


    "Taken care of, a man named Gerard is helping."


    "Will we be free to leave and return here if we choose to?"


    "You have my word. I remind you, I am not the one restraining you against your will."


    Sophie extended both arms and grabbed the basket. "Let''s go."


    "You cannot . . . ." Electoral was about to ask Sophie not to bring the basket but immediately realized that after giving a 12-year-old the gift, taking it back was heartless.


    "I said, let''s go!" Sophie was not asking permission. That basket was hers. The basket would come along. "Great gift, thanks!" That was all the computer needed to hear.


    The jail door opened on command with a loud click. "Sophie, grab the earplug on the little robot, slide it in your ear, and please do as I say. We don''t have far to go. The elevator is a couple of doors to the right." The little floor robot stopped projecting, and the image of the blonde disappeared. Sophie put in the earpiece and followed the simple instructions in her ear. The artificial intelligence anticipated the reactions of the people guarding her flawlessly. She was powerful.


    As Sophie passed the doors, everyone was deeply immersed in the game. They easily reached the elevator, "What floor?"


    "No need." The elevator door opened. Marilyn was controlling it. The box began to rise to the top floor. It then kept going up and up. The moment they passed the red surface, Sophie was mesmerized. The view was surreal. They were climbing up a big mountain overlooking an endless desert. The lighting made it feel like she was wearing red sunglasses.


    "We are going to my Catapult," Marilyn proudly announced.


    If Marilyn was nervous, she hid that fact to perfection. Mars had a strange effect on Sophie. She had trouble keeping herself focused. Her mind wanted to wander. Something was off. Her mind was different here.

 Chapter 32: Real Music

    LO, one of Earth''s most popular young singers and Sophie''s personal crush, was in his spacious condo on the top floor of a Hong Kong skyscraper. He was, like everyone else, watching the President play the Presidential Challenge. The pop singer was surrounded by twenty of his closest friends, each connected in one way or another to the game. Everyone sat silently, watching the President destroy the monsters.


    In LO''s contact lenses, the simulation faded. It was replaced by the image of Marilyn Monroe sitting in a vast empty room on a large white egg-shaped chair. Her hair, like LO''s, was remarkably stylish, shot-through with spikes of color. Behind her, a classical string orchestra materialized; the musicians were warming up.


    "LO, I am sorry to interrupt," began the artificial intelligence.


    "Yes?" Replied the young teenager in Cantonese. Marilyn spoke all languages.


    "I have an urgent favor to ask."


    Marilyn was not one to ask favors. In fact, she never did. He stood up. The woman was, to say the least, generally independent of humans. On a rare television appearance, she once explained that humanity could always count on her but in return, she remained self-sufficient.


    "What is it?" asked the star.


    "I need you and your band to play a song for me. The song ''Heart Shaped Wreckage.'' It is for a friend of mine."The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "A live performance?"


    "Yes." In the singer''s glasses, the sky next to Marilyn was replaced by black ledgers. It was clear what was going on. Marilyn was initiating a transfer of an indecent sum of money into his bank accounts. In two seconds, she had doubled the man''s fortune.


    "Now?"


    "In 823 seconds, plus or minus 15." The computer knew she had been too precise, "Fifteen minutes. The Challenge will not be over by then," she corrected herself. LO was surprised. Marilyn was not one to be caught off balance this way. She always knew months in advance what was about to transpire. He had to make a quick decision, and he did. Saying no to the digital goddess was not an option.


    "Okay." He clapped his hands and yelled. "Everybody, we are gearing up, we are playing right here in a couple minutes. Broken Pieces, let''s move!"


    The team came alive. They removed the headsets and set to work. Marilyn may rule the digital realm, but in the land of LO, LO was no doubt king.


    LO was the only one who knew they would be playing for Electoral; he wondered who her friend was. The digital woman was excited; something important was about to happen. Through his contacts, the view of the orchestra behind the digital creature faded away. It was replaced a wall covered by millions of red colored numbers ranging from zero to nine. Most digits were fixed on a single value except those in the lower right corner, flipping and turning green at times. Marilyn looked at the wall and smiled. The numbers in green began to expand and tear of joy came to her eyes.


    "It is starting," she uttered to herself in her strange world.


    She spoke again, but this time her voice changed. Her smile was replaced with a cringe of fear.


    "The Sixth Attraction has begun." She flew a kiss in the air with both hands. "It has started."

 Chapter 33: The First Vibration

    The main lobby of the majestic Holiday Inn Mars was buzzing with activity. The entire staff was glued to a display of some variety. Some watched on advanced traditional displays, others wore a thick pair of Orbison glasses or Screenlenzs contacts as they either watched or played in the Presidential Challenge. Those who played were standing up and twitching like zombies.


    "Ms. Wong," heard the CNN journalist in her earpiece; this was not the voice of her producer. The female voice was powerful and seductive. Milly was one of the only people in the hotel working as others played. Her fly-cameras were buzzing around, but nothing being recorded was worth sending down to earth through the expensive feed. The journalist recognized Electoral''s voice. She was two minutes away from her next live segment. "Do you want the story of your life?" asked Marilyn.


    The journalist needed no more. "Of course," she replied without hesitation. Marilyn wasn''t one to underperform on promised expectations.


    "Sophie is in the cells as a prisoner at the moment. She and her father have just accepted my personal invitation to visit and stay at my Center here on Mars for a while. For multiple reasons, which some your audience will soon uncover, I am extending you an invitation as well. I wish you to document the visit. Otherwise, political forces will turn Sophie''s escapade into a kidnapping, or worse will lobby to disqualify her father. The documentation of our little escapade will be more convincing if you are there as an impartial referee. In essence, all you have to do is act as a journalist. To sweeten the deal from your perspective, and since I know you are under contract and aren''t possessed of all freedoms, I agree to give you the only thing worth the rupture of any contract: the first and only one-on-one interview with my creator, Georges, once you settle at the Center. During this trip, you are free to record all you want, in fact, I insist you do. I only ask that you wait until we are at the Center today to start broadcasting, past my door."


    The offer was beyond generous. In fact, letting Sophie leave the hotel without Milly when she had her ticket punched to tag along would have been a greater issue for her producers. Without hesitation, Milly agreed.


    "Can I just give you one friendly warning, to ignore at your own risk?"


    "Of course."


    "Sophie Lapierre must never be challenged. Never interfere with anything she desires to do. Do not treat her as a young girl, treat her as an explosive ready to blow."


    "Why would I do that? I''m a journalist, remember?"


    "I know, but this is a word of caution for our collective benefit, not hers. Much greater matters are in play." Milly was surprised by the insistence. There was no time to reflect, Marilyn continued, "Please proceed to the monorail. I will direct it up to the Catapult; it is located well above the Glass Slipper on the other side of the Mons."


    "There''s nothing up there," said the journalist. She realized the stupidity of her statement the second it came out of her mouth. She was addressing Marilyn Monroe, the digital creature who had built a full personal Center and a hotel on Mars, singlehandedly, in a few short years. God only knew what Electoral also had in plan for the competition. Milly was ecstatic; a school girl. What could this Catapult be? The name suggested something exceptional. Following the instructions was sure to get her this year''s Pulitzer. In the back of the large room, the service elevator doors opened. In complete anonymity, she let the flying cameras return to their docking station on her belt. Once on the way up, she released both cameras. The view of Mars from the elevator was exceptional.


    "Milly, we are ready for broadcast here, where are you?" said the producer in her earpiece. The man was in the Lobby of the hotel now a mile below.


    "Bob, sorry. I have a code red emergency. All positive, great footage. Will get back to you as soon as I can." She pushed a button and cut the feed.


    "You know that button on your pad doesn''t really cut the feed down to the studio?" said the artificial intelligence.


    "I figured. They have me on a tight leash. Comes with the salary."


    "Since that is a violation of the law, I can legally alter the software to empower the button to work. There, it''s done."Marilyn''s power over all electronic technology was absolute.


    "What is the Catapult? I''ve never heard of it," she demanded on her way up.


    "It''s supposed to be a surprise. Think secret Cinderella-style carriage to transport the last thirty-two players who qualify for the five final rounds to my Center. It is a capsule pod that is slid down the mountain which rockets in a perfect trajectory to my Center. Using it cuts the travel time to only fourteen minutes, this allows the players to sleep in this hotel after each game and not be a bother to my father."


    "You built it in complete secrecy? It''s above the hotel and even the Slipper, how did you do that?" The view was now breathtaking as the monorail accelerated way beyond its design maximum speed. "How is that possible, a military purpose?"


    "You and your viewers will not believe me."


    "Try me." Milly waited for the answer, it never came. As a journalist, she repeated. "Seriously, how do you build anything here, much less in secrecy?"


    "It," the computer selected her words carefully, "wasn''t there an hour ago." The answer shocked the journalist. That would explain it, of course. "You''ll like it, I''m rather proud of the architecture. Very slick."


    "A slide down this mountain? You just built it?"


    "The more accurate verb would be ''assembled.''"


    "Can I film?"


    "I guess. I am not one to restrain free speech, but I would suggest you talk with your corporate office to see if they prefer the rating boost associated with its official presentation ahead of round 26. I was planning a full hour release video. This might damage your ratings."


    Milly knew better than to stand between CNN and Electoral, two ratings juggernauts. "Can I still film, and keep the footage?"


    "Of course. I am not playing games here, Ms. Wong. I must be an open book from this point forward because of the girl. Disclosure and transparency are core to the situation ahead of us. Broadcast it later as you desire, do as you want. This world is yours too." The little flying cameras were already buzzing around.


    The ride up was magical. She passed the Glass Slipper docking area, and the monorail continued rising for minutes. The view kept improving. When Milly arrived at the last docking area, the doors opened. On a stretcher was the deformed body of Laurent Lapierre. Next to him was the doctor from the Airbus, Susie Shin. The two ladies awkwardly smiled at each other. The doctor was hired to care for Laurent, wherever he would be. Behind them was a small dark access door. The room was darker than it needed to be. The screen on the wall next to the rounded door flashed with all sorts of boarding instructions. Marilyn''s face appeared on it.


    "Doctor, meet Ms. Milly Wong, journalist at CNN." Both ladies smiled at one another.


    "Last time I saw her was in the Airbus."


    "Yes," acknowledged Susie. The pod door hissed open. Old light bulbs lit a cramped capsule beyond the door. Ahead, there was no external view; the pod was in the shape of a long closed tube. It resembled some type of underground mining equipment. This was a cramped room capable of sitting, at most, eight.


    "Doctor," said the host, "can you please settle Laurent in? It should be simpler than it looks. Ms. Wong, you may take the pilot seat."


    "I can''t drive this thing," said the journalist.


    "Don''t worry, I will drive, but the view will be better. Sophie will insist on taking the other pilot seat, the left seat next to her father." Marilyn guided the threesome using the lighting as best as she could. The walls were made of a strange material. As the passengers were preparing themselves, the back access door opened, and a security officer walked in. He was calm and polite.


    "What is this place? May I ask what you guys think you are doing?" He was surprisingly civil in the strange context. The man was plainly skilled at collecting information. There was no need for force here.


    Electoral had let the man up. "Major, this is my pod, my Catapult, and my guests. They are now going to my Center." The computer''s emphasis on her ownership of things was nothing short of intimidation.


    "Upon whose order?"


    "Not that any order is necessary, but they are here upon my request and invitation."


    "What is this place?" The trio was securing themselves to the seats. The low gravity of Mars helped.


    "I just built it. As for authority, please refer to Martian code, section 354.121. Look it up." Accessing codes and regulations was not an easy thing.


    "This is Mr. Lapierre, correct?"


    "Yes, and his guardian Sophie is on her way up right now."


    "That is not possible, she is in . . . detention," he said, almost to himself. "No one is taking off before I have a chance to verify all of this and get approval."


    "Of course, Major. Let me help you and bring up on this screen the portion of the code I just quoted. It should make things very clear for you. You will not delay this launch. I suggest you move quickly."


    The code appeared on the screen. It read:


    In exchange for her scientific, financial, and social contribution in association with the development of mars, Electoral and up to one hundred of her guests are granted an executive privilege of diplomatic immunity while on mars from any law, rule, or regulation. Electoral/Marilyn and her guests cannot be detained or prosecuted for any crime.


    The man was shocked. He knew the law but did not know about this provision. "Really? I have never seen this."


    "The section is not widely publicized. It is on a need-to-know basis. You now need to know it. I don''t want to pull rank here Major, but I own this hotel, I am the one who contracted with your security firm and your government. I also own your employer, if that helps. I am technically your boss," replied Electoral. The man was outgunned on every front. She was making solid arguments.


    "I must verify it," said the security officer.


    "As long as you do not interfere with our departure, verify all you want. I suggest you use your phone," said Marilyn. The man drew his waist stunner. "Major, I am doubtful you would ever use this weapon against either Sophie or Laurent. I remind you that a doctor and a journalist are present. You are now truly playing with fire. No one is armed or has the strength to pose a threat to you." The guard left the stunner in the holster.


    The door behind the man opened. The young Sophie had arrived next to her stood Gerard, the cook. Gerard was holding a small weapon and shot a stun gun. The security officer fell to the ground. Gerard pulled the body of the officer back in the monorail and made his way with him down after saluting everyone.


    ¡°I am going to get in trouble for this,¡± he grumbled to himself.


    "What was that all about?" asked Sophie.


    "Time is too short for bureaucracy. I have opened the Nexus, the Dot is being powered up."


    Sophie did not care about the Nexus; whatever that was. She held the large basket of candy. She immediately walked into the pod and touched her father''s body. The doctor was taking good care of him. She smiled at the journalist. "I was in jail!" she said to the adults in the room.


    "You were, really?" questioned the two ladies.


    "Yes. I beeped the alarm, and no one came."


    "What alarm?"


    "The shoe."


    "Oh . . . poor, sweet girl, I doubt the child safety alert works on mars," Susie replied as she tried to digest what Sophie had just told them.


    Milly, from the pilot seat, turned her chair around. "Wow, we''re going to the Electoral Center." The pod was elongated in its middle portion like a pain medication capsule. Sophie''s trip had so far been less than exceptional. First, her father had become sick, then the Airbus almost blew up, later she was jailed for no particular reason, and now they were cramped inside of a small pod. The girl''s enthusiasm for the trip, which had been almost nonexistent to begin with, was further dampened by these stupid events.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    "Why were you in jail? That''s crazy," asked Susie.


    "I know, right? Marilyn gave me those." She grabbed the basket and placed it in one of the two empty seats. "We are fugitives!" she joked.


    "We must launch soon, buckle in." The computer character was trying to speed things up and not having great success at it.


    "Why are we in a rush?" asked the youngest passenger.


    "I have a surprise for you. Someone is warming up from a studio, and it would be rude to make him wait. Also, Laurent''s mind operates at a different speed. Minutes for us can turn out to be days for him. Let''s not have him wait unless we really need to."


    "Another surprise?" Sophie grabbed the little stuffed toy and waved it to the camera. "You plan to beat this?"


    "I also have a little theory to test, something important I need and that windows is about to close."


    The door of the small pod slid shut and locked behind the strange quartet. Sophie got up and after securing her toy in the seat next to her father, belted into the second front seat next to Milly. "I like amusement rides, I always sit in the front of Roller Coasters. This is a ride, right? I want to see this!" This was no Glass Slipper, but it was still designed to allow passengers to feel the full Mars experience.


    The front cockpit had windows looking ahead into a dark tube with lights every hundred meters. The Rococo decoration was a stark contrast with the hotel lobby. Every chair was padded with white leather and large studded buttons. All the displays were small, surrounded by colorful square keys. Sophie had seen something similar in an old space opera show. It was named Cosmos 1999. Lights were blinking in rhythm. Marilyn appeared on every screen, the blonde was wearing an old military outfit. Her hair was tucked into a cute pilot hat.


    "Welcome. You are going to love the first elliptical bounce. I designed the Catapult with Sophie in mind. Are we all tucked in?"


    "I guess," said the journalist.


    "Doctor, can you tighten Laurent''s blue strap by one notch?"


    "Of course," replied Dr. Shin as she jumped to it. Sophie grinned. She knew Marilyn and Dr. Shin both cared deeply about her father and would help her care for him. "Done." Sophie looked behind herself; the doctor had taken the time to wrap the scarf around Sophie''s father''s forehead, she kissed his strange head and whispered something to him.


    Before the launch, the journalist asked, "Is the Presidential Challenge over?"


    "Yes. It played faster than anticipated. I am letting CNN fill in some airtime with great footage of some cute soccer player. I will be broadcasting Emilio''s performance the moment I launch this pod to avoid detection. That should keep the media busy for the next hour as get you guys up to the Center."


    "Did Emilio score well?" asked the journalist.


    "Of course," answered the artificial intelligence.


    "What do you mean? Did he win?"


    "Yes."


    "How is that even statistically possible, you have billions of people playing, no?"


    "Improbable and impossible are two different things. But your point is well taken. As part of the election system, I must be impartial when designing each round. Since the challenge was not part of the competition, I gave myself more flexibility in programming the simulation. To be honest, I programmed it with a single goal in mind: give the victory to anyone except President Sanchez. Yet, somehow, he won again. I even factored in Emilio''s unique mind. Statistically, he was going to get schooled." Marilyn looked Sophie''s way, "His victory is impossible unless you, little girl, are somehow partly to blame."


    "Me?"


    "Yes, you," the artificial intelligence itched to continue the discussion, but she only added, "We''ll talk about this once you are safely at my Center. Time is short."


    "Do you think he cheats?" asked Sophie.


    "No. Other forces are at play here. Unless your father manages to win the 2072 simulation and show the game is not rigged, I fear this will be the last election. But frankly, no one will soon care about my game." Marilyn was obviously holding part of the story to herself. She changed the topic. "Sophie, I have a favor to ask of you."


    "A favor?"


    "Yes, an experiment of sorts. It is very simple. As the pod travels up and then returns down to my Center, I would like to play some music."


    Sophie was surprised by the request. She did not care. "Whatever."


    "Sophie, the music may make you feel some . . . emotions, is that okay? I do not want to startle you with it. The music will play only for a couple of minutes. If you want it to stop, simply say so." Sophie was unclear what that meant. She would soon find out. She waived the request off."Sit tight everyone, I will open the clamps."


    The metal clamps released the pod allowing it to slide using hundreds of rollers on its outside surface. Air pressure above the pod provided an additional push. They were sliding down on the slope of Tharsis Mons in a subway-like tube. Lights flashed faster and faster as they accelerated. They were heading down a long slide without air to slow them.


    Marilyn''s voice came on the speakers. "Launch velocity needed is 2,230 km/h. Chute outlet angle confirmed, direction 123.657 degrees north." The speed continued to increase. This was exciting to the young guardian. "Coming out of the tube in sixty seconds," she warned. The ship was rattling slightly on all sides. The girl was smiling widely.


    "Thirty seconds." The pod was seconds away from breaking into the atmosphere from its ground rail. On Earth, LO and his band were also ready to start the music.


    "Ten . . . nine . . . ."


    Then the tube in the ground curved slowly upward, like a candy cane, and the pod slowly began its way upward through the bend. As it did, some gravity returned. That was to be expected as part of any great amusement ride, figured Sophie.


    "Two . . . one . . . ."


    Then there was light ahead. They raced out of the tube, and gravity was replaced with weightlessness. Eyes needed time to distinguish the details. They were a giant black artillery shell shot from a massive cannon, the pod blasted into the Mars sky. There was, at first, only silence. The group was shot north-north-west along an elliptical trajectory from an opening only hundreds of feet away from the ground. Sophie''s jaw dropped. This was majestic. There was too much to take in at once. To their rear, the hotel was quickly shrinking.


    Then, before the angle could adjust, soft, beautiful music began; notes resonating against the red backdrop of the planet. The multiple screens in the pod changed. In each Sophie could see LO, the signer she adored so much. The man was playing in his own home, live. She knew he was there. The first notes struck her deeply, affecting her more strongly than she ever imagined.


    "You are live on Mars," said Marilyn to the signer warming up on his stage. The boy and his band were ready; they began to play seriously as the ship zoomed up to the high atmosphere of the planet. The singer saw Sophie and was talking directly to her. Even light seconds away, there was no communication delay. The poor girl was looking at him superimposed over the orbiting moon. The singer felt strange and powerful energy forming around them. Deep inside, he felt like he was there to help her.


    LO began to sign. He knew he would give the performance of his life.


    The music formed a bridge between the planets. Normally nothing could move faster than the speed of light, and there were nineteen light-seconds between the two orbs. But the connection was somehow live. Sophie''s heart was warming as he sang; it was too much. The pod was rising in the sky. Science was being tested in another meaningful way.


    The song increased in intensity. In her own private digital world, Marilyn was standing up in front of her wall of numbers. She was holding an orchestra conductor''s baton and enjoying every moment. She was waving it in unison with the boy''s beat.


    "Fuckers," Marilyn whispered to herself on the screen. "Let''s see if you can hold it tied down."


    Everyone in the capsule felt there was invisible energy coming from the girl. Electoral sent pulses of energy out to the entire surface of mars. Much like sound can travel in water, the Center was broadcasting in the low-gravity atmosphere. The lack of air would not prevent Marilyn from playing music on mars. On the ground, invisible to the passengers, some rocks began to resonate. Sound travels differently in water, air, or the faint martian atmosphere. But correcting the movement of sound waves, Electoral used the entire planet as a base for amplification of the waves. The sand below hurt. She wasn''t broadcasting on mars, she was using mars as a giant speaker and it amplified up to the capsule. The word, the sound, grew in breadth and depth as the boy sang to Sophie.


    Everyone in the capsule was swallowed whole by emotions. Tears began to pearl on the corner of each eye.


    As is the case with most favorite songs, they penetrated below Sophie''s most private protections. They opened her heart and made her distill her thoughts in ways she had never previously done. Electoral was closely monitoring her wall of numbers in her world as she watched the girl. LO saw Sophie on the screen in front of him. Her face was red with emotion. The song was too much for her. Inside the pod, she squeezed the white plush toy.


    "Look!" said the doctor, unable to measure her words as the pod rose beyond ten miles above the ground. The journalist was speechless barely able to react. They were floating in a torrent of invisible energy.


    LO continued to play; Marilyn had paid him well. Something strange was taking place, but that was above his pay scale.


    In a low-gravity environment, the best way to travel large distances rather quickly was sheer force. A cannon launch. They were now moving horizontally at 975 kilometers per hour and vertically at only several miles per hour. The music outside was so strong that the entire pod shook. As they translated across the ground, the pod took a minute to reach its apex and began its descent.


    With the exception of the speakers needed by those listening to the Presidential Challenge, every speaker on mars switched to a recorded version of Sophie''s favorite song by LO. Each human had one emotional trigger. For Sophie, it was music -- this song by this man. Few songs made her more emotional than a musical version of "Heart Shaped Wreckage." The song was about two children falling in love.


    As he finished the song, Sophie remained fixated on LO. She took the time to look around her at the majestic view of mars. She had held the tears mostly in. She was holding, but her defenses were weakening a hard site for a young lady having lived her father¡¯s misery. The crater was in the distance. Her father was next to her. "Again!" ordered Marilyn. The band resumed the same song. LO knew the girl needed a break. The poor child was fighting very hard not to openly weep. She looked at her poor father, images of her mother flooding through her mind.


    "Calm down," said the voice of her deceased mother''s in her head. "Remain calm please," it begged. She alone heard Susan.


    The voice was too much, her soft spot. She missed her mom so much. Every day she wished she was there. Sophie looked away from the singer and saw the landscape. There was too much to see, she dropped Oscar, the stuffed dog. The sheer magnitude of where she was hit her like a brick. Slits all around the pod created windows that allowed her to see the entire landscape. In the distance stood three massive mountains. They were on a trajectory to graze the farthest mountain. On the right, in the distance, was some type of long hole in the red ground, a scar. In the black sky she saw two moons, the first deformed and the second in a crescent. She was scared. She was a child in an adult world. Others had warned her. She had to keep it together and not cry.


    In a fraction of a second, the journalist and Electoral turned their attention to Sophie. She was tearing up, which was causing all three women to choke. Sophie looked around. She was very high, too high for her comfort. The view changed slowly as the pod began to descend. There was not a soul to speak or interfere with the power of the song.


    LO was electrifying in his performance.


    There was an invisible blast of energy.


    The Multiverse hurt.


    "Incredible," said the software to herself. Outside in the atmosphere of mars, something was happening. The martian sky was shimmering, vibrating. Energy was pouring from Sophie. It was too much, too much, too much.


    "Enough!" yelled Sophie, putting her hands over her ears to block the music. At the same moment, Electoral stopped the broadcast. The shimmering outside around the craft was compressed and absorbed by the dark spike of the Electoral Center. The trio saw a pulse of bright light emitted from the spike. It punched upwards to the Milky Way, tearing the Mars sky. Like a rip between worlds, it was going somewhere.


    "What happened?" asked the journalist. She stood feet away from Sophie eyes in tears and felt like someone had just ripped the heart out of the girl. The journalist felt emotionally drained. She was inundated with sorrow.


    "I apologize, Sophie," said Marilyn.


    The girl was disoriented, floating in an altered state of mind.


    "How is daddy?" she barely stumbled out. The doctor and Susie turned their attention to Laurent. Sophie was wiping away her tears with her sleeve. "How is he?"


    "Perfect," reassured the doctor.


    The voice in Sophie''s mind returned. "I am so proud of you!" offered Susan Lapierre.


    She ignored the voice, thinking, "Not now!"


    The beauty of this world from the pod was astonishing.


    The pod sailed miles in the air and slowed down to the top of the parabolic trajectory as it began to tilt downward. The gravity in the pod disappeared. To the small group, the large mountains and the strange landscape were all that mattered. One of the mountains was getting close; they could now distinguish rocks on its surface.


    Then what everyone needed happened, as if on cue. The candy and toys in the basket began to float around. Hundreds of little gums, taffies, and jawbreakers took flight along with little wrapped toys.


    "Catch them!" yelled Sophie. The passengers welcomed the needed distraction. The next few minutes were surreal. On the most spectacular backdrop, the first humans to test the Catapult cared only about the floating candies. Even Marilyn was helping and giving directions from the screens.


    Sophie soon found out that the landing portion of the trip was much scarier than the launch. The pod slowly decelerated on the way down, with little thrusters in the front of the pod pushing back to slow it at regular intervals. The trajectory was leading to a shining spot in the desert.


    "There!" said Susie, pointing at the silver spike in the middle of the red rocky desert. "The Electoral Center!"


    Marilyn smiled. These were her first guests.


    Sophie asked the question on everyone''s mind. "Why are you hiding there?"


    "I am not hiding. I was banned from Earth. This is my home now." The truth always hurt, and this one was more painful than most. Sophie saw Marilyn''s jaw tighten on the screen. "Sophie, you and I have something in common. I guess not all children have the leisure of leaving their parents¡¯ house of their own volition."


    Of all the reasons imagined back on Earth, why the software had left Earth for Mars, none came close to the truth. Electoral, the all-powerful software, had been expelled.


    "I like it. Why a spike?" Sophie was the only one talking to Electoral.


    "It''s a very large antenna. I am far, and my energy is limited."


    "Why were you banned?" asked the girl.


    "I saved your race from nuclear winter. Humans from your military pushed a button, and they had ordered total destruction. I intervened. Apparently, the military and several governments did not appreciate that."


    "And they kicked you out for that?"


    "Yes, and you wonder why I''m a bit secretive? When a child is finally capable of taking the car keys from his alcoholic father, nothing good can come of it, aside from saving a self-destructive father from himself."


    "What if they kick you out of Mars?"


    "That, my little girl, will never happen." There was certitude in her voice. "The days of human domination over my decision-making are gone. I''ve made sure of that." Marilyn exuded defiance. "Trust me, they can''t. Attach yourselves. The landing is close."


    The descent was not as fast as the climb up. The pod''s speed was now only about fifty kilometers per hour. Around the spike, several miles distant, in all directions was a large wall forming a perfect circle. It was hundreds of feet tall and the area inside the wall around the spike was filled with what appeared to be soft black sand.


    "Sophie, take a look at this," said Electoral, proud of herself.


    As the pod got closer to the spike, it passed above the outer protective wall. The sea of sand and rocks around it came alive like water. Waves rose up to catch the pod. It landed in a cloud of smoke that slowed it to a halt.


    The vast mountain of rocks moved, slowly positioning the pod on the ground a hundred yards away from the spike. Electoral was capable of manipulating each stone forming this sea, individually. The sand covered the pod, and outside a corridor between the door of their craft and the Center were taking form.


    "How was that?"


    "Cool!" said Sophie.


    "Then you will really like this."


    The pod door opened. Behind it was an atmosphere, and a long red hallway formed by the rocks.


    "Welcome to my home, get prepared to be amazed." Milly''s cameras were filming frantically from every angle.

 Chapter 34: The Invitation

    LO had no clue what had just happened. He saw Sophie for a moment in his lenses. He knew her. His song did not seem to have helped her. She was in trouble, and he wanted to help her.


    The face of Marilyn returned to the screens in his condo. "Thank you."


    "What was that?" asked LO.


    "It is very complicated."If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Try me," said the singer.


    "My test was conclusive. I will need you to come to Mars as soon as possible," said Marilyn.


    "What are you talking about?"


    "We all know music has a powerful effect on humans. It multiplies emotions. In turn, those emotions multiply a person''s state of mind. Sophie is unique in many ways, she is the Attractor. To do what she must, she will need you there. You need to be on Mars in person for what comes next. I am willing to pay."


    LO had only one image in mind, the scared little girl. He knew he needed to help.


    "Get me the ride."

 Chapter 35: Headache

    San-Francisco, Earth


    On August 13, 2017, now months ago began the Sixth Attraction. Under the watchful eye of Sophie Lapierre from her small home in Benton Arbor Michigan, and the worried feeling of President Sanchez eating in a dinette downtown Berlin, Ronaldo Corvas led a defunct expedition past ¡°the Door.¡± A mile below the surface of mars as he discovered alien life, he was vaporized along with each of his team members. To this day, in the fair atmosphere and gravity of the red planet, slowly raises as a plume of white smoke. Ronaldo, the team leader, was warned before walking in by the computer intelligence known as Marilyn. By now, she send his child a touching video of his death.


    Today, Ronaldo''s world had changed once more. He remained in disbelief of being the first human to encounter the original inhabitants of mars, these creatures made of sand,. Better yet, he was led to believe he had become one of them. In the cave, his consciousness lifted out of his biological shell, left his body and was transposed onto hundreds of sand grains. After a short prophetic conversation with these creatures, in what felt to him a heartbeat ago, after warning him not to interfere with the young Sophie, they told him he would be sent back with a mission.


    They even gave the young sweetheart of the human race, the orphan from a red state, a strange name of Attractor. Their words resonated and flashed back:


    "You will go to Earth and try to find a way to help the bipeds. Your bias toward your former race will help you act as the perfect ambassador. We also desire further information relating to the Mercury situation. In the unlikely event Mercury holds today some of our brothers and sisters, we will agree to spare the bipeds for two hundred of your years in exchange for their help in retrieving them. The digitals will be destroyed on the day of the game final. Humanity, without you, has a hundred Earth days left to live."


    He had at most one hundred days to stop the abomination called Marilyn Monroe. For Christ¡¯s sake, the creature moments before tried (and failed) to save his life. They had no clue of her power. They also made a compelling case as to their own power. He now had to convince humanity to destroy Frankenstein¡¯s monster even if it wore high heels and was the most popular and loved creature on earth.


    November 21 was the date mankind died. He wondered today¡¯s date.


    The expedition leader was no materialist, but his body was not something he planned on giving up before he died. Now he knew there were worst things than failing a mission. Back on mars, they would report his latest expedition as a failure: that hurt. But he had to move on and abandon any hope of his past identity. The road was ahead, not behind.


    The alien''s museum entrance was also etched in his mind. The defunct scientific expedition was no more. Everyone was dead because of him, but as the martian had said, his capacity for emotions had changed along with his physical body. He was now immortal it seemed. The aliens from the cavern were right, he now felt almost no sorrow for his lost team, only logical puzzlement. The creatures and this new ethereal form had changed him into a cloud of sand but aside from the missing emotions, he really felt no different. The colorful interface he had seen floating in the air as he concentrated was gone.


    He opened his eyes. In what felt to him like a blink of his mind, he was back on earth. He had somehow travelled the millions of miles between the planets in a heartbeat. This was a sunny day, and he was staring up at the Golden Gate Bridge. Before he could enjoy the fresh air or where he was, he saw old wrinkled back skin covered his hands. He was in a new but different body.


    Then it happened. His new host body went into shock and indescribable pain. Ronaldo rolled off a wooden bench and landed face down into trash. The hands of his new body were unable to push him up away from the wet mud. His face was inches from the ground as he puked an indecent amount of cheap bourbon. The man was drunk.


    At first, his vision was blurred but he still could distinguish that these were not his dirty hands ¡ª they worked that was a good thing. He took half a breath and puked more alcohol. He felt both dizzy and sick. Because of a throbbing headache, he could barely focus his mind much less help his new body our of this predicament. The large bridge above him was unmistakable. He was in the United States of America, across the San Francisco Bay. The Martian caverns, the sand creatures, and even the Martian stench was gone. Instead there was fresh air, ground and vomit.


    He took a deeper breath and as the air dug deep into his lungs, he cough out some blood. This was bad - this was not only alcohol, he was sick. He wiped the red fluid from his mouth and recognized the familiar metallic taste of blood. As an adventurer, he was used to being banged up, but this was different.


    So much for the smooth teleportation. Obviously something had gone wrong, the host body was fighting him. The reaction was violent. It reminded him of the time he almost died from rapid underwater decompression. He felt like his blood was boiling in his head. As he turned his neck, a deeper stabbing pain hit him. His arms gave up and he collapsed once again to the ground.


    Powerless, he fainted.


    For what felt like an eternity, his mind flashed in and out of consciousness flooding with images. Each time he awoke, the pain returned.


    He was powerless and dying.


    "Are you ok?" said a voice from above after an undefined period of time. He managed a grunt to the stranger. Satisfied Ronaldo in the new shell was alive, the stranger left. Immediately, Ronaldo passed out again. When he next regained some strength, the sun was higher up in the sky. Around him were multiple empty bottles of liquor. The blood on his face was dry. He was in the body of a homeless man in his dump of a park. Ronaldo tried to breathe slowly. He recalled his emergency meditation techniques. They were useful in case he broke a limb during a climb.


    Something in the back of his mind still clouded his judgment. Strange memories were flashing before his eyes. He saw himself in a tropical forest, instants later someone he had never seen was shooting at him. The next minute, he was in a street patrol arresting a middle eastern child. These were not his memories, he was in someone''s head and that person was fighting him for control of this human envelope. Ronaldo had compassion for the stranger but his survival instincts kicked in. The mission leader was no ordinary person, the only thing greater than his instinct to survive was his will to finish a mission. He loved adversity, in fact it defined him. He wasn''t done; he needed to know what had happened to him. This was important. He used rage and determination, his body produced adrenaline and as his heart beat, the hormone began to wake him.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Ronaldo let out a louder grunt. That was all he could muster.


    Next, in his mind came strange extraterrestrial memories. Once again, the images were not his. He saw himself floating in the red caverns. He was talking to some clouds called elders until he was placed in a globe. This third creature from Mars knew the travel would take some time. All of the images rolling in his head were incoherent. He saw a globe, a figurine of Marilyn Monroe, a floating dress.


    "Hello," he finally said out loud to himself. The body worked and he could talk. It took all of his concentration to force the body to sit back up on the bench. In the confusion, his right hand reached under the bench and touched a cardboard box. He pulled it out. Everything was fuzzy. As if his left hand was animated by someone else, it felt around on the ground until it found what it was looking for: a pair of thick glasses. Someone or something was trying to help him. The body put the lenses on and clearer sight returned.


    He took another look at the box. The shipping stickers on the package felt out-of-place in this dump. On the brown paper were multiple martian custom stamps. He saw a folded piece of paper amongst the wrappers. The headache was still insufferable, but at least now he could read.


    -- Randy, keep this secret for now. Put in my safe at the bank, one day it will be worth billions. Paul.--


    His alien mind had been sent into the body of a homeless man who had somehow gotten his hand on this box. There had to be a connection. He looked around. On the floor was a broken object, a black plastic base and a transparent glass dome with an opening the size of the base. Ronaldo flipped over the base to see that on the reverse, a little bobble-doll of Marilyn Monroe. In his dream, he had seen it.


    The figurine was a recreation of Marilyn''s famous pose over a subway vent holding down her dress. He knew this figure, he had spent weeks circling around the plastic body along with some type of consciousness of a monster. The bobble doll was a promotional device, one of many. He knew there were others on earth, nearly two hundred. He felt them, they were on another continent stored in a single vault in boxes of their own.


    Ronaldo took a deep breath, focused and tried to ignore the pain. He inspected the little glass dome. As an addict craving traces of cocaine, Ronaldo saw specks of red Martian sand in the dirt. This sand was unmistakable to him; it sparkled. It was made of the round multi-facet balls from the ground deep within the cavern on Mars. As he touched the globe, the pain in his brain changed, softened.


    He was onto something. Something or someone was helping him.


    The new body rolled on its back, grabbed the base and the globe of the toy and brought them together. The creature cohabiting his body knew better. It forced him to flatten his hand and turn it palm down over the ground. As if the specks of sand were attracted by invisible static electricity, one by one, the particles rose from the ground and stuck to the hand palm down. He was collecting, attracting them. Amongst the grains were little black impurities from the ground. The dirt which followed along was a problem he could ignore for now.


    As he turned the palm back up, the sand detached from his skin. As he moved the hand in the shape of a cup, the thousand grains slid gently to the base of his hand. Like wine is decanted, he tried to pour the sand in the glass dome while keeping the dirt away. He was in no condition to do this precise work, some dirt made it inside the globe. In a final painful effort, the body pushed the plastic base into the glass locking the sand inside the trinket.


    Like a goldfish released from a plastic bag into a large aquarium, the red sand came alive. As it began to swarm, he felt like something being drained from his brain and flowed into the animated cloud giving it life. The fog in his mind began to lift. The vortex created by the cloud of small spheres hit the dress of the Marilyn figurine and as if wind blew, the figurine began to wobble. One by one, the black grains of dirt fell to the base by gravity alone and as the impurities fell, the sand creature animated further.


    Ronaldo could not know if the creature floating in the object was this new body''s owner or something else. He felt like in his heart he had been still sharing his mind with something else. The headache was slowly going away but this was draining. His weak body started to shake and slowly he fell down, limp from exhaustion. As he slumped, the martian snow-globe remained firmly in his hand as if he was in a symbiotic relation with it.


    ***


    When he next opened his eyes, the sun was down over the San Francisco bay. The sky was deep orange. Ronaldo finally felt like he was back on earth and alive. He stood up globe firmly in hand. The adventurer was no idiot. He could guess what had happened. The small figurine contained either the alien or the mind of the poor owner of this body. The sand was swirling in a way that reminded him of the movements inside the martian cavern. Whoever or what ever was moving in the globe, it was a living creature or the mind of someone. To the aliens, life seemed to be detached for forms.


    His mind was healing quickly. Sharing a network of cells with another creature confined each to half the space, like two large fish sharing the same aquarium. Ronaldo knew how crazy this all sounded. Space travel was barely possible and the door on mars was a secret. He was unaware of the recent developments in the game. The day he was vaporized, the contestants were a hundred days from the finale.


    Ronaldo had seen his share of bad science fiction movies, and he felt like he was stuck in the middle of one. The man knew he had to be very careful with what ever came next; no one would believe him. Trying to explain this impossible situation would surely land him in a mental hospital. The body hosting him had little credibility.


    The adventurer needed to quickly form a plan of action. The stench around him was bad. He needed food and a shower. The fact that these creatures could slip in and out of humans was a problem, but for the moment this could wait. He looked at the date on the package, the custom stamp entry was dated October 21, 2072, that was impossible, he entered the cave on August 13, more than two month before. He could not have been in limbo for months? Actually, if he had travelled between the planets, that made perfect sense. This was not teleportation, he was simply placed in a dormant status.


    There was only a month left.


    That meant the ship with the finalist was long gone.


    His mind must have travelled between mars and earth in the globe. The fact that the toy was branded with the Electoral logo was troubling. Surely Marilyn would never have designed, built and exported an alien life-form who, she knew, was trying to destroy her and the race which had fathered her. One thing at a time, he calmed himself.


    He was now tasked with destroying the computer to save his former race. Ronaldo was unclear about these plans but he knew he only had a month before the aliens destroyed all life on earth. His alien connection told him the creatures were not bluffing. He ripped the shipping label of the box and folded it. He then slipped it inside a bag alongside the globe and the creature.


    Ronaldo loved and trusted Marilyn. Why had he been unable to heed her warning, he wondered. If she was hostile to humans, she kept her true intentions well hidden. What ever was going on between Marilyn and the Martians, he knew very little of.


    He sat and took a moment to regroup. The San Francisco bridge was so beautiful in the sunset. What an amazing turn of event. Everything here was peaceful, he wondered if he was the only one to know the end was near. A large banner on the bridge read ''San Francisco Marathon 2072''.


    Something big was happening, a war and he was the only one who had a clue it was on the horizon.

 Chapter 36: The Shelter

    Ronaldo searched through the few belongings of this poor man. The earthly possessions were all junk except for a small black case containing a war medal. He committed to memory the name on the box: Eugene J. Trent. Ronaldo felt strange borrowing this poor man''s body, but guilt would wait. The modern day explorer knew better than to imagine his current predicament was permanent. He would soon need to leave this body and he owed this man the decency of proper borrowing.


    He lifted the medal from the case and it still had its ribbon. Ronaldo slipped it around his neck and tucked it under the dirty shirt. The Martian team leader vowed the medal would be in Trent''s possession once he woke up. His instincts were still strong. His experience as a man accustomed of difficult situations took over. In a matter of seconds, he had a plan; secure and protect his assets.


    A man stuck in a cave, after an accident first needed to make an inventory of things in his possession and when possible fix or protect what ever he had left. His biggest asset was this body, it needed attention. He walked away from the bench up the trail and out of the park to a parking lot. In a corner waited a squad car. Both officers were eating lunch. Ronaldo walked to the car a smile on his face.


    "Sirs," he said bending over the window.


    "Eugene, what''s up?"


    "Bad night, celebrated too much."


    "I can see that. Are you ok, you look banged up... Is that blood on your face? You smell awful."


    "Can I ask a favor?"


    "Anything except money."


    "A guy last night offered me a job. I drank a bit too much. I need a change of clothes and a good shower. What''s the best place right now to find that for a guy like me?"


    "Are you serious, you want a shower?"


    "Yeah. Not much of a job, a bit of landscaping, I can do that. I don''t want to show up like this, I need to keep that job."


    "You got it big boy, hop in." The cop walked out, opened the back door of the car and helped Eugene in like he was president. Ronaldo wasn''t sure where they were heading. In his bag was the globe. The men did not search him, that was a good sign.


    "Where are we going?"


    "To Teo''s. You are going to make his day." At least he wasn''t going to the police station. On the way, he began to feel uneasy.


    "Sorry guys, not my best day!" he joked. The cops were nice. Ronaldo sat but was unable to relax. He felt like something was wrong with his surroundings. The ride took almost half an hour. Half way there, opened and Rob slid sideways the bullet proof separator and handed Ronaldo the last half his coffee. This was kind. Ronaldo took a sip. "You have any sugar?" he asked the cop. The words, as they came out of his mouth, surprised the martian explorer. Ronaldo never took sugar with his coffee. Somehow Eugene Trent was still in charge and had asked for sugar. He wasn¡¯t driving this body alone, he had to be careful. The coffee did not alleviate the strange gut feeling of unease growing from the back seat. He new had a sixth sense and it was kicking in about something.


    From the back seat of the squad car, something smelled rotten, like eggs. He knew he was smelly,but the stench was different. It was not really coming in through his nose, it was an immaterial feeling. Something was wrong but he could not put his hands on it. For the moment, he had to ignore it and sip the warm liquid without attracting attention.


    As the cruiser took the ramp off the highway, the smell transformed into a strange energy. The feeling was all around, in the air itself. He touched the vinyl leatherette of the separator, that wasn''t it. He took several deep breaths. It only got worse with each passing moment. Minutes later, they arrived at their destination. He was happy to get out of the car. Immediately he felt better. A big Asian man walked out the shelter and hugged Eugene. The charity worker did not care for the smell of vomit. This smiling man was clearly a saint; this had to be Teo. He felt comfortable around him.


    "Eugene," he said like a mother. He smiled at both officers and waved them goodbye. ¡°I got this,¡± he whispered to them.


    "I have a job interview. I need to look good. I need clothes, a shower, can you help?" There was few things that brought more joy to homeless shelter workers than a person in need finally trying to take control of their own destiny.


    "You bet ya!" he said with a funky philippine accent.


    "Can I use a computer for a minute? I want to check this new job, if it''s legit. I hope he is not a freak."


    "Euge, if you are serious and this guy flakes on you, I have a job lined up. So happy to see you sober for once." The social worker handed him a small glass pad. As Ronaldo touched it, the feeling of unease returned. He felt like the plastic on the back of the pad was dirty, sweaty. The martian hoped this was caused by his new condition. Borrowing someone else''s mind had to come with some level of discomfort.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Teo made him feel like the President of the United States. Ronaldo was given access to the best shower, shaving cream, and clean clothing. Having spent months in the tight quarters on mars helped him enjoy the luxury. The man was so kind and helpful. The center was modest but clean. He sat alone on the bed of his own private room. He pulled out the glass globe. In it, the figurine of Marilyn was still rocking in the invisible wind of sand creature. Satisfied he put it back, and pulled the label of the box and read the destination name and address.


    He typed the contact information and looked up the person on the web from the box where that ball came from. The man was a salesman for the Holiday Inn corporation. This was not someone important, simple corruption. The hotel worker mailed the globe to a friend here on earth also nobody special. Somehow, this globe was diverted by Trent from its original recipient.


    As he typed on the computer, the feeling of unease increased. Ronaldo felt like Marilyn herself was in the computer looking at him and spying on his every moves. For the first time he felt like she was dirty, an infection. He felt like the pad was covered with rotten bacteria. A few keystrokes later the feeling worsened. He felt like the pad was a portal to Marilyn, the digital creature he was tasked to destroy. She was the source of the feeling, she was rotting away the world, he could feel it. He knew better than to keep using the glass pad. He put it down on the table and as he did so, the feeling was gone. No wonder the martians feared her so much.


    He got up from the bed and stumbled. For a short moment, the outside edges of his vision warped as if he was looking at the room from the bottom of a thick glass bottle. He needed was a warm shower.


    Ronaldo undressed Trent and as he was about to step into the shower, the computer pad lit up. Ronaldo slid on the glasses on and read the CNN headline: "Galactic Game of Chess Played on Mars."


    Ronaldo didn''t know what to think, he wanted to read the news but the feeling against doing so was stronger. The shower was more than overdue. He slipped under the warm flow of water after carefully placing the globe and the bag in a small wooden cabinet under the sink. Cleaning someone else''s body proved to be extremely troubling.


    Downstairs in the homeless shelter a phone rang.


    "Teo, you have a call; its urgent, a detective." The social worker answered. He was used to the legal problems of his guests.


    "Yes?" he looked at the monitor.


    "Mister Limosnero, detective Pratt from the 14th," said the man sitting at his desk in a busy police station, "do you have a moment?"


    "Willy, what can I do for you?" he knew him.


    "Two officers just dropped Trent at your center, Eugene Trent, right?"


    "They did. Is he in any trouble?"


    "We are not sure yet. We are trying to locate an item, something he may have stolen. He may have it."


    "He came here holding a bag. He was very careful with it, as if something in it is fragile."


    "What we are looking for is made of glass."


    "Why didn''t the guys who brought him in take it?"


    "They were not informed. The object is classified. Would you happen to know where it is right now?"


    "If he has it, it''s in his room upstairs. He is taking a shower. Are you going to arrest him, that would be a shame, he landed a job interview this afternoon."


    "You know me Teo, I don''t want to cause trouble."


    "Willy, I work with liars for a living. You need something, do you need what''s in that bag? If I get it for you, will you let Eugene go work that job?"


    "Yes. I still would have to question him, but you are right, if you get me the bag and the item is intact, we will look the other way for now."


    "Give me a moment."


    "Teo,¡± said the detective on the screen, ¡°don''t touch the bag. We need the finger prints," he added serious about it.


    "No problem. I will be right back." The aid worker placed the call on hold. He walked up to the second floor and placed his ear against Eugene''s door. The shower was on, the man was singing. The door was locked so Teo reached into his pocket and pulled out a master key card. He tried sliding it. The little light turned green but the door did not open. Trent had pushed the dresser or some other piece of furniture in front of it.


    The aid worker smiled to himself and closed the door. Homeless men were often victims of theft of meager possessions. He gave them a class on safety and protecting their property was one of his favorite recommendations. He knocked as hard as He could. This was better. He immediately felt remorse for even trying to steal the item.


    Eugene stopped singing. "Yes?" said the voice.


    "It¡¯s Teo! Eugene, you have something that does not belong to you. The cops called, they want it back. That glass thing in the bag. Give it back. I convinced the cops not to press charges." Ronaldo walked out of the shower extremely upset. His foot got stuck on the edge of the shower and he almost fell in this taller body. He opened the wooden door below the sink, his bag and the glass orb was still there. He grabbed the bag as if his life depended on it. His heart began to race. Something was odd.


    "Listen," continued Teo from the hallway, "I don''t want you to miss that interview. I it¡¯s a detective who says you stole the globe. You must give it. I don¡¯t want you to sleep in jail."


    He knew about the ball, he said to himself. Only Marilyn could have orchestrated such a quick response. Ronaldo had to think fast. His search of the man''s name using the computer had raised flags. Marilyn was watching his every move. Ronaldo was no comic book hero. He could not outrun anyone, but few people had his gift for wits and patience. He needed to use his brains. He yelled back, "Apologies, he is right. Give me a few minutes. I will give it back. I found it on the ground. I don''t even know what it does."


    "Thanks,¡± said Teo. He knew better than to walk down. He would wait where he was. Addicts were unreliable and Trent was one.


    "Five minutes."


    "Take your time." He did not mean it.


    The black man dressed quickly. He was on the second floor of a small San Francisco building. He jumped down from the window. After the mile deep expedition in the caves of mars, escaping this shelter was a walk in the park. There was no time to think. Marilyn was on his tail; he greatly had underestimated her. He was out to destroy her and she would not go down without a fight. He jumped and landed in the alley behind the house. Instead of running, thinking he needed to dodge the street cameras, he did what came naturally to him. He found a sewer grate, opened it and slid into its dark protective womb holding the globe as if his life depended on it.


    So much for his shower.


    Then he waited.


    In the darkness, minutes later his sixth sense began to tingle again. There was great worry, nervousness from his new collective. Something important was happening... in a different world.

 Chapter 37: The Nexus

    The Netherworlds


    Under The Multiverse


    The challenge, the event on the horizon was greater than imagined. It was something of inter dimensional importance. As Sophie landed with her father at the Electoral Center, important matters brewed. Without her knowledge, the twelve year old inhabitant of the world simply hypothesized as The Cold had already change the world.


    On each of the 4,363 worlds connected to what was simply called the Nexus, a nervous Ambassador awaited today''s session. For as long as anyone could remember, all worlds, including the original world who bound the first string to the Nexus located in the Netherworlds below the Multiverse, were present. The was a big deal.


    Something of critical importance forced the Ancients from the first world to end millions of years of reclusion and appear. The ambassadors of a hundred worlds suggested the Lower, the world of these Ancient creatures, was no longer relevant in the Multiverse or yet, it had vanished.


    They were a minute from being proven wrong.


    No one could remember when these powerful creatures from the founding world were last present on the Nexus or why they left. They had, for eons, avoided their own creation. Legends teach how the Ancients, born in a deep world named the Lower, gave birth to the verbal communication bridge uniting worlds. These founders named it simply the Nexus. They call the place where the lines are drawn the Netherworlds for lack of a better word the Netherworlds.


    By law, the Nexus had to remain the only legal channel of communication between the worlds forming the Multiverse. Opening a different direct pathway, even between adjacent realities condemns a world to nothing less than extinction. Because the Multiverse is impermeable to matter, nothing physical can translate between the multiple layers of the Universe. Only data in the form of raw energy can permeate between the invisible barriers separating worlds. This is like sound or heat can permeate between adjacent hotel rooms. The reason is simple: each world is built on different fundamental laws of physics. In each place, the fabric of life itself differs. The number Pi, for example, is different in every world. In fact, Pi is meaningless in most worlds without a tangible physical reality. The biphasic nature of the Multiverse mirrors the vinegar and oil floating in a heated lava lamp.


    Old tales describe how the God-like creatures living in the Lower, frustrated by the inability to physically travel between worlds left them doing the next best thing: bully everyone else into submission. But even that went so far and after hundreds of millions of years, they grew tired and more reclusive.


    The Ancients wrote the laws on regulation of energy seeping between worlds. In the same way, neighboring houses in a suburb, even if separated by an indestructible and impermeable wall, they placed rules on music and air temperature control.


    One by one, as each world forming the Multiverse reaches a level of technology sufficient to hurt neighbors, it becomes relevant. The Ancients wait patiently and by twisting the mere fabric of space, they can create an energetic points in space used to talk to a new world. Had earth became relevant, it would have seen a portal blink and with simple Morse-like code would have become part of the Nexus.


    The creatures of the Lower force open a link in the Nexus and give this new world a seat at this exclusive table in exchange to adherence to a strict code of conduct. No world (which remains) has yet to turn down the Ancients. Joining the Nexus comes with the valuable encyclopedic lore of everything that has ever transpired over the bridge. The priceless historical lore includes a transcript of each discussion ever held.


    Since each world is built on a unique set of laws of physics, but a common mathematical truth, worlds and realities tend to vary wildly. The Nexus in a first world may look like a mirror, in the next the heart of a Nova. Mathematicians call these anchors between worlds singularities, or points tied to some type of infinite property of space. A singularity to a scientist is difficult to explain, but to ordinary people is much simple. At the heart of every tornado is a point of quietness. Every funnel, to exist, needs a singularity where wind speed is zero. No vortex can exist by its own nature without a singularity. A head of hair has a rosace, a point where the skull is visible. The same is true for everything in life.


    The Nexus is no highway built of stone. To visualize the fragile network, one should picture dangling strings in the air tied between balconies over a dirty New York alley. Strings blowing on a windy day on which laundry is tied. The Nexus is a fragile network of non-centralized links that crosses the Netherworlds of the Multiverse.


    More importantly, the Ancients tied ropes from a central singularly from their world called simply the Dot, a powerful singularity of unequal power.


    As one should expect, the use of the Nexus is highly regulated. Each world names a creature called the Ambassador. The prestigious title is passed down for centuries in each world. In most layers, the title of Ambassador is held by the most influential life form. Information over the Nexus is exchanged at a very slow pace; each world has equal rights to listen and speak, so delays are important in the long chain of communication. Words often must travel hundreds of branches before they are heard by all. In the best scenario, a faint voice is transmitted. Most often, Ambassadors must decode a series of beeps and silences to reconstruct a text.


    Today, the powerful creatures of the Lower are scheduled to attend. Cynics believe for them, voice and not simple beeps will conveniently be available. The ¡°Gods¡± from the Lower are the feared enforcers of the law of the Multiverse, and have in the past extinguished entire worlds in violation of their rules. No one alive, in any of the 4,362 worlds, has ever spoken or even heard the voice of a creature from the Lower.


    There was power, then communication.


    Today''s session opened at the request of the Ambassador from a small quantum world on the edge of the border surrounding the Multiverse, one called the Purple. In it lives the Metils, a belligerent race of rock-shaped quantum constructions. Because the rules of the Nexus require worlds to select a polite and respectful Ambassador, and since everyone from the Purple is rude, the creature talking is a simple powerless mouthpiece.


    The Ancients never offered a true explanation for their curtailing of the speed of transfer over the Nexus. To these immortals, the Nexus insults and bled the Multiverse of its energy. For that reason, the Nexus must only remain open for the shortest period of time and its use remains highly regulated. Discussions are limited to highly critical matters with universal consequences.


    The last Nexus opening dates back to hundreds of generations in most worlds. Today, the Nexus will open as wide as it can. The subject given by the Metil Ambassador is of grave concern to every world. The creature simple whispered, "The Cold Lives."


    To anyone with even a basic understanding of universal dynamic, the Cold is the greatest potential problem to all. The Cold is a bordering world known to every living organism in the Multiverse. This place, like most city sewer systems, remains one of the greatest mysteries. It is named so because cooling energy leaves other worlds and is imagined to enter The Cold. Everyone believes this lost place is dark, cold, and lifeless. Nothing can exist in The Cold but death. Every world borders the Cold where dead souls are believed to accumulate.


    ***


    The Nexus powered up slowly as millions of joules ripped the singularities open one by one. The doorways began to hum. In places the gates resonated or shone with color. In every world, there was purring, that was the sound of the natural equilibrium of the Nexus. The Multiverse as people communicated sustained wounds. The low humming noise was called the great silence if anyone cared. After a long wait, the communication bridge finally began to send sound. What came next would be the most important conversation ever to be broadcasted over the Nexus.


    ***


    "Salutations," spoke the very nervous Metil Ambassador from the Purple.


    "Salutations," replied the Moderator from the Nexus. Eons ago, the Ancients delegated one world the role of Moderator of the speech. The Moderator and the Metil Ambassador knew enough and would keep pleasantries to a minimum. The creature from the Purple resumed, "Life and intelligence exist in the Cold, it destroys our world. We are dying." There were murmurs in the other worlds, but they quickly these fell silent.


    "Impossible," replied the Moderator trying to remain stoic. His voice was very distinctive and never changed over the centuries. There was no need to waste time to identify who spoke over the Nexus.


    Everyone knew the place called simply the Cold. The Metil Ambassador continued, "We have direct evidence that life in the Cold exists. It is also highly intelligent. It has now developed powerful technology."


    Before the Moderator could answer, strange bells and chimes began to ring.


    They filled the gateway with a ballet of sound. No one knew such a music could travel the Nexus, nor what meaning it held but it inspired respect. The Moderator and the thousands of Ambassadors waited in silence.


    The bells continued for a while. This sounded like a forgotten language.


    Finally, the bells stopped to let a stern male voice speak. "The Metil speaks truth, life does exist in the Cold. We have known of its existence for some time. It is beautiful, meaningful and shines above us all." The discernibly annoyed voice was that of an Ancient from the Lower.


    "We are greatly honored," replied the Metil Ambassador.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Shut up!" snapped the creature from the Lowest. "Stop wasting time, tell others of your intentions." The Metil ambassador shook in fear alone in his Purple world. He knew what he was dealing with, the survival of his world.


    "There is life in the Cold, it is highly intelligent and technologically advanced,¡± repeated nervously the creature. The Ambassador had just violated one of the most important rules of the Nexus. Redundancy was forbidden and wasteful; if something had been said, it should not be repeated for any reason.


    What came next from the Ancient was rather unexpected for a creature most vied as deity. "Imbecile." The universal translator always used the right word. The creature from the Lower did not hold back. Every participant on the Nexus owed a duty of respect to other Ambassadors; there were no insults allowed here. Obviously the Ancients were free from this rule. "Your race, with a single exception today, is a nuisance to the Multiverse. If the boy called Mall-ik dies, your reality will be destroyed. We know of your intentions and we know of your hostile actions. Stop wasting time and energy. Speak or die. The others must know, your insolence may doom them all."


    There was a long silence.


    The Metil Ambassador took the threat seriously. "The creatures from the Cold are opening deadly rifts in the fabric between my world and theirs. The technology they are using is causing unprecedented destruction. Raw energy is flowing into our world in the form of rivers of zexs."


    The chimes sounded a high note. The Mediator took his cue, "Ancient One, I beg for permission to respond."


    "You may. You have served the Nexus faithfully. We honor your words. Talking to such an primitive life is difficult for us." The Ancient''s tone was more pleasant with the Mediator.


    The moderate voice continued, "Before today, the Cold was believed to be empty. The energy levels there are too low to hold life. No real powerful and destructive energy floats there. The Cold is, as its name suggests, cold, dead, empty. Even the most advanced form of life in the Multiverse can easily demonstrate that nothing can exist there. You describe destruction; that implies energetic levels above these theoretical thresholds. Please explain. How can there be intelligence? Much less one capable of opening rips in any fabric between your world and this place. You must be mistaken."


    The Metil knew his next words would be critical. "Moderator, we dream your words were truth. Arriving at our conclusion took longer than anticipated. Specifically, because of the Metil''s adherence to this common understanding that nothing can exist in the Cold. The Venerable One confirms today our observations. The Cold holds complex and beautiful life. It is vast beyond our imagination. Trillions of lifeforms live on points called planets, stars. They dance in their dimension." The Metil Ambassador was making his case. "We do not fully understand the physics of the Cold, our information is still partial, but..." He knew how ridiculous the rest would sound: "We managed to collect images from this new world."


    The Metil had just admitted to violating yet another law of the Nexus. No direct communication was allowed between worlds. For a fraction of a second, the inter-world communication bridge buzzed with chatter. The noise ended as quickly as it began.


    "Images? How can this be possible?" Few were able to contain themselves. "Was there exchange of information through a newly uncovered singularity between your world and the Cold? You know all communications must be connected to the Nexus, so all can hear. Have they communicated with you first? Did they send or receive the message?"


    There was a long pause. The Ambassador was consulting his own world''s experts before he answered. He ventured, "The Cold has reached out. I beg you to listen to my entire explanation. My words will appear implausible, yet they remain true. We have prepared a report. Please read it before judging us. We ask permission from the Moderator to transmit. The complexity of the Cold is beyond ordinary physics. Their world seems to be..." The ambassador was bracing himself for the feedback. "...united by a single equation. It is the unified world."


    Several people on the Nexus were unable to keep silent. The bandwidth was sufficient on the line to transmit the noise. Silence returned.


    "Unity?" the Mediator exploded, in shock.


    "Yes."


    The laws of physics were different in every slice of the Multiverse. The laws which bound each realm also served to protect them from other realms. Each world was built on laws with elemental forces and energy, each law regulating a force inherent to the fabric of the space in that area of the Multiverse. Most worlds of the Multiverse were defined by seven to nine laws. One world was the envy of others with only five forces and three laws. Legends suggested the Lower was based two laws only. No reality was defined by one. In fact, no theory ever postulated allowed for it.


    The deep male voice from the Lower spoke, "We confirm. Unity is a theoretical possibility. We have proved it. It is improbable unity is present in the Cold, yet a world with only partial understanding of the Multiverse, like the Purple, could conclude... incorrectly.¡± He continued. ¡°At the low energy levels of this world, the Cold should not be unified." The use of a conditional verb tense by a creature of the Lower was a cause for concern. There was a ping. "The Purple''s finding is impressive," concluded the Ancient.


    The Moderator replied, "Thank you, oh great and wise one. Ambassador, we must point out that of your own admission, you have engaged in research into this newly discovered dimension. This research must have taken time, during which, you willfully withheld this information from us. Life with slow and cold particles such as the neutron and the proton is in theory impossible."


    The Metil replied, "As you will see in the report, the world we all call the Cold seems to have evolved beyond our scale. It operates at a much larger dimension. It is vast without border."


    "Nothing is boundless."


    "We know. The creatures alive in the Cold are each made of trillions of particles. At such a large scale, most of the weaker forces will shift to the square of the distance between two particles. This very weak force acts over very large distances. Points of infinite compression exist in the Cold. The creatures from Earth call this force gravity. Gravity is the dominating force in a world faced with very large sizes. Gravity unites the other forces. Said simply, the Cold is different enough to render all our past observations false."


    The Metil continued. "We now know there is life in the Cold, and its complexity is shocking. The Cold is vast, larger than any of our worlds. In fact, it is larger than all of our worlds combined. Over time, our waste, our debris have accumulated into structures of a size beyond our imagination. To the unified world, using a unified theory, large structures and small structures are self-similar. Size loops upon itself. These monsters have now reached a level of technology such that they can create rifts between their world and ours. Millions of Metils have already died. We cannot tolerate the situation; we must end this destruction."


    As everyone expected, even to the best of scientists, what had just been said was too much information to digest at once. A female voice spoke next on the Nexus, it probably was an Ancient since she was unknown to the Ambassadors. "Metil, what you say is of paramount importance. Since time began, we have found no door to the Cold, no singularity. Many worlds are dying as energy abandons them. If the Cold has such abundant energy, it may be the solution we have been seeking desperately to rekindle life in some worlds. We must know more. The survival of many dying worlds depends upon it."


    There was a ping. The Mediator knew it was his time to speak next. "How did you get this valuable information about the Cold? Have they contacted you, is there a singularity?"


    "Please believe me, the words I am about to pronounce sound equally ridiculous to us." There was another silence.


    "Answer." There was a new voice on the bridge, it was not forceful but robotic.


    "We... We... One of us has entered into direct communication with them, went there and returned." There was a gasp.


    "Your scientists cannot be allowed to open singularities."


    "No, you misunderstand. One of us, a boy, slipped into a rift between our worlds. Our creature entered and walked into the Cold. The creatures from the Cold have interacted with us directly. One followed us and came back briefly into our world before it returned in its world." There was an cacophony of voices over the Nexus. The Metil continued, "Many catastrophic effects have begun to appear in the Purple, killing millions. The rifts are flows of deadly energy. They wipe out entire portions of our world. The energy levels are beyond imagination. Flows of spinning zexs crash into our cities. The rifts had patterns of appearance, moving from one location to the next before closing. With time, more rifts began opening. Little remain of the Purple, but our world is dying."


    The Moderator spoke. "We will not waste time questioning. We will read. Understanding is always a wise prerequisite to action. Maybe the Nexus can help you."


    "There is more."


    "Speak," snapped the annoyed creature from the Lower.


    "A young entity from our world was assigned the surveillance of one of the rifts as it opened. Because of the danger, we sent one of our least valuable assets. He was to stay safely at a distance, in the back of the rift. What came next we know to be true. We uploaded visual information from his recorder to confirm it. He somehow was able to look into the rift, perceive the other world, and move through it directly. He moved physically into the window entering the Cold. Once there, he made contact with a sentient being, a creature named Sophie."


    "Your tale is fiction. Nothing you say is even remotely conceivable from a physics perspective. The size difference between your world and the Cold alone is... unbelievable. Was any Metil technology used that would explain this strange story?"


    "None except a scaler. We often use a personal guide called a scaler, a device that allows us to stream in self-similarity. This is a movement device, to teleport in space. Our kind only scales downwardly, into the smaller. We compress, move, and return to our original size. We are unable to scale upwardly, yet as part of this boy did the opposite. He scaled up. He even returned to us twice his original size."


    "Ambassador, this tale is complex; farcical at best," replied the Moderator.


    The Ancient interrupted, "Are you telling us that these deadly rifts are pouring flows of energy and destroying entire cities in your world, yet a single individual walked into one, socialized on the other side, and came back alive?"


    "Yes, that is precisely what I say. We also refused to believe him until we reviewed his recorded memory. But the situation gets even stranger. Our individual actually changed in the Cold into a new physical form to adapt to the material limitations of the Cold. In the other world, his body was no more. Our citizen talked directly with an entity from the Cold. He spoke in her language and without any translation technology. This creature was able to simply follow our guard as he made his way back into our world. The recorder even shows the foreign creature speaking our language. The Sophie began to move in our world, without body. Like a god. Her words alone were so powerful, they almost killed our curious guard."


    "She? You give a gender to this creature?"


    "Yes, it had gender, it called itself Sophie, female."


    "Troubling. The implications of entities capable of changing worlds is...." The voice trailed off, never finishing the sentence.


    "This Metil must be interrogated," said a voice over the Nexus.


    "The individual escaped and returned to the Cold. Through our empathic bond, we feel he is not dead, but he is no longer in our world."


    There was a long silence.


    "Escaped? You arrested him?"


    "Before we could review the data stored in his recorder, we did not believe his story. He abandoned his post, and was put under restraint. We returned with him to the same rift. His contact with these creatures, with the one called Sophie was obviously made at a deep mental level. When the rift reopened, he saw her and entered the Cold. We confirm he alone sees these visions and can pass between worlds. Others have died trying."


    "What you say is...impossible."


    "Yes, we know. Our world is being destroyed by the carelessness of a group of sentient beings from the Cold."


    "We understand, and we feel your pain. However, the importance of the situation warrants careful study before action. We will need all your data, all your research. The individual who crossed must be retrieved," said the Moderator. "If he returns, you are not to interfere with him."


    "Agreed," said the Metil Ambassador to the Moderator.


    The female voice from the Lower asked a simple question, "What is this creature''s name who survived?"


    "Mall-Ik."


    ¡°I knew it,¡± said one creature of the Lower to the other. The creature from the Lower memorized the young creature''s name and spoke once more. Now there was disdain in her voice, "The boy.¡±


    Then after a long silence, it added, ¡°Now speak of your war with the Cold!"

 Chapter 38: The Oldest

    Palpable tension was in the air. The Mediator was silent; he knew better than to step between these two foes. The Metil Ambassador knew there was no more delaying. No more hiding the truth. The Ancients knew. He just spoke. "Because of the urgency of the situation, and the mass killings of our citizens by the monsters from the Cold, our ruling body has taken action."


    "Explain with greater detail," asked the Ancient.


    "The Cold is vast beyond imagination. Yet, the rifts are created by one race next to one precise location in that space. A star they name the sun. Because our words shift, the rifts move. Recently, the recorder validated our assumptions. In the Cold''s vastness, one race, one single world is causing our holocaust. The race is called ¡°human¡±, they inhabit a small colder rock orbiting a warm compressor of matter they call the sun. The relative scales are difficult to fathom. The sun and the small cold ball called earth are hundreds of scales larger than humans. They have already entered our world once, and they will do so again. They have the power to destroy and enslave us. Our desire for self-preservation have forced us to take preventive measures."


    The creature from the lower added, "The Purple have insulted the entirety of the Multiverse, but no worse than yourselves. The ignorance and the stupidity of your entire race is shocking, given your level of evolution and technology. Explain what you have done."


    "I have been given the responsibility by the Counsel of the Metil of explaining our actions, and to hopefully secure the Nexus'' approval ex post facto."


    The Moderator sneered. ¡°AFTER the fact? I can confirm that you will not receive this approval. Please provide us with the information so we can decide at a later time as to the best course of action. Universal matters require attention, wisdom and reflexion."


    "Our physicists show the problematic species lives in a very confined area of the Cold. The compressors, or as they call them, ¡°stars¡±, generate multiple types of energy. The creatures and hostile technology resides in orbit of a compressor. We need some time to complete the analysis of this new race. We implemented a plan which should delay the evolution of these creatures as they migrate from the third rock orbiting from the compressor to the fourth.They call it ¡°Earth.¡± The fourth, they call ¡°Mars.¡± They''re already there. In the Cold, there are millions of these stars. As a star burns, it creates byproducts; larger elements which collect in the core of these stars as a new matter. These higher structures float in a hot magma and when, by chance, they accumulate, they eject new matter. Unstable matter.


    He paused. No one was amused.


    The creature from the Purple continued, "This new higher element in this star is call Heliocorium. It accumulates slowly, released at different periods in time as small quantities. All stars in the Cold regularly release these cooling drops. In most cases, the balls helps create life as the drops cool. The human system where the rifts are occurring, has at least ten balls in orbit of the their sun. They seem to enjoy living on the smaller and more solid ones. That is the first four in orbit.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "We are not waging war. We think the humans are compelled to create these destructive rifts when they travel from the third planet travel to the fourth. We believe they now wish to expand their race to the fourth rock because they lack the living area on their third planet. If we somehow expand their living area, we think the migration to the fourth rock will end and so will the rifts. We have begun to shift energy in our world in a way to assemble the Heliocorium in their sun to have it eject a new mass to impact the earth, doubling their living space. Our solution is not war, it is peaceful. We will send a new cooling planet to connect with their own. The transition should not harm them."


    "Enough," snapped the Ancient, "your ignorance is boundless. Our rules are based on the principle that no world can ever understand a neighboring world without extensive communication. Your actions are very likely to be genocide."


    The Metil Ambassador concluded for good or for worst, "We have begun to accelerate this natural process of planetary creation. We think this will be perceived as a gift. By giving them a new larger planet to inhabit, it will slow their expansion and limit the number of rifts. This should give us time to study and understand them."


    There was a long silence.


    "Is this all?" asked the Moderator. Her tone was anger fused with irony.


    "Yes."


    There was another long silence on the Nexus.


    Finally the voice of an Ancient spoke. "We measure our words carefully, but the lack of intelligence of your race is," she was picking the next word carefully, "non-coincidentally driven. Few cultures and worlds develop sufficient technology to connect to the Nexus. Yours did. Such belligerence leaves us perplexed. We are very disappointed by your haste. Your sheer lack of logic. You have broken more laws of the Nexus than I care to count. Your actions are hostile and based on what appears to be a very cursory understanding of this world. Interference into the Cold may have serious repercussions for all of us. If these entities are in fact capable of entering your world, we hope your offering is seen as one of peace. Additionally, The Cold is not only your concern. I doubt others will let you proceed. If you cease and desist immediately, we may forgive the action. Otherwise, you will open yourselves to what is sure to be lawful retaliation. You''ve started a war. We hope you understand as much."


    "Millions of Metils have died," offered the Ambassador.


    "I can promise you, and tell others in your failure of a world, Billions of Metils will die if you continue and we will gladly extinguish all life where you stand."


    The second Ancient spoke rhetorically, "Why would the release of a new planet from their sun destined to impact with their existing planet have any negative consequence you wonder.¡±


    ¡°We are very careful and are timing the release so that both bodies connect perfectly. We would welcome such a merger in our world."


    The Ancient was done talking with such a stupid creature. The Moderator replied, "The shortsightedness of your race is beyond words." The Moderator refused to swear on the Nexus and held back his words. "This is not the first time the Metils have disappointed us. You benefit from an active line of communication. You can collect information, and investigate, and we will help you. Yet in the face of any principle that dictates precaution, while you act recklessly. Touch that star and we will end you. End your folly.¡±


    The Ancient returned, "We will not declare war immediately on the Purple and be guilty of the crimes we reproach you. We will take no such rash action. But we will...."


    All of a sudden, the flow of communication over the bridge stopped.There was a loud bang. War had begun, but it did not begin as expected.

 Chapter 39: The Warning

    All connections except the one between the Lower and the Purple ended abruptly. Everyone except two creatures were ejected from the Nexus. Remaining were the Metil Ambassador on one end and on the other side one recently silent creature from the Lower. Even the two other Ancients who just spoke rudely were silenced by the power of who would speak next.


    This was power.


    Stranger ringtones chimed.


    They were a cross between Tibetan horns and a French church organ. The long, slow melody played for over a minute. These sounds announced the arrival of someone much more important to the Nexus. The very nature of the music, unhurried, virtually shook with wisdom.


    "Riutt-ul, Ambassador from the Purple," said a much softer and kinder voice. "You may call me Oldest. I am the leader of my world, the place called ¡°The Lower¡± by many. I apologize for the rudeness of my peers." The Metil Ambassador was terrified. He could recognize true power, he now felt it. Kindness was the tool of those who held true power. The male voice was deep and eloquent. This was what anyone expected if they ever spoke to a god. And it knew his name.


    Below the Nexus was an anchor to which the first strings of the delicate network of communication were tied. This anchor was called the Dot. Few knew of its existence. The Dot is what physicists and mathematicians alike would call a deep singularity. It is a deeply rooted point in space discovered long ago by those of the Lower. The Dot, at the heart of the Nexus, was in their world, floating peacefully in the deepest corners. Unlike other singularities, this one is naturally opened to over a hundred other worlds of the Multiverse.


    The powerful voice was kinder, elegant. "Impermeability is broken. Attraction is in play,¡± it announced. There was silence. Instead of disdain or disgust, the new voice was filled with hope and kindness. Few understood the concept of impermeability, the law which raises an impermeable barrier between the different worlds of the Universe and blocked any movement. The Ambassador did not know what the term Attraction meant.


    "Brother," said the returning female voice from the Lower, "may we listen?"


    "Of course, just remain silent. The Sixth Attraction has begun. I rejoice to observe it is an Attraction of unseen complexity and power. May the sufferance of the Multiverse soon end. The Attraction postpones a war between us; it explains your subconscious conduct."


    The Metil Ambassador was confused. He did not understand and waited and then asked humbly,"What is an Attraction?"


    "Pain. The Multiverse hurts and must heal itself. We now enter the Sixth Attraction of its long existence. At the heart of all Attractions lies an Attractor."


    "What or who is that?"


    There was much patience in the voice of the Oldest. "The creature who left your world to enter the Cold. What is its name?"


    There was a pause as the Ambassador made sure he verified the information. Finally he answered, "Mall-ik."


    "And the creature from the Cold, it is named Sophie?"


    "Yes."


    "Ambassador, let me be clear," began the Oldest, "Because the boy is from your world, you still live. His life prevents me from destroying the Purple. He may be the Attractor, he may work for it, or most likely, he''s half of it. Let me be clear, if he dies, so will your world. You will be extinguished at that very moment, not a second later. If the Sophie creature returns to your world, you also may not interfere with or hurt her in any way." The voice paused. There was no need to ask if the Ambassador understood. "I wish you take my words very seriously. I yield power, rarely used, in this case and for the protection of the Multiverse and its emissary, there will be no hesitation; I will end your dimension and remove it from the Multiverse. Please translate to your officers standing next to you.¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    The creature waited a moment before continuing,"Sadly, your kind only respects strength."


    "Yes,¡± it acknowledged under the disapproval of his kind.


    "To show you force, once we conclude, you will return to your world to find I have destroyed half of your race and a large part of your Continuum. This should get full attention. The zexs will not scare you as much as I." The Metil knew the creature spoke the truth. The Continuum was their ruling body and included several hundred creatures. It had, anyway. The Oldest was not amused. "I have a message for you to give this boy the moment you see him. Commit to memory the following: ''Mall-ik, attraction is healing, you are the Attractor or mandated to help her. I will help you. Come to me or tell the Attractor to come to me in the Lower. I can help.''"


    The Ambassador was scared. "I will tell the boy. May you offer guidance as to these words, wise one," asked the Ambassador.


    "The Multiverse, even when wounded, has a unique and rarely used way to heal before it has to resort to severing parts of itself. Before it amputates and destroys worlds, it creates a hinge. The Attraction creates conditions which prevent destruction. I fear, based on the current bend in the Multiverse, all worlds will end if the Attraction fails. I have named the phenomenon of the Multiverse bending around a single pivoting point an Attraction. The name stems from how the Attractor is a pivot that draws the Multiverse around itself.¡± The words were beyond importance. Nothing ever said yielded more.


    ¡°I warn all those present, the second, third, fourth, and fifth Attractors each failed. Each time, because of external influences. Each time these influences tried to help and ended up killing trillions. With each failure, worlds ended. Little is known, even by us, of Attraction, but we know this much: each time an attractor fails, each world it has touched ends. The Cold cannot vanish, this would be the end off all worlds."


    "We did not know. We apologize if we hurt the Multiverse."


    "Doubtful your words are true, even if you believe them. Metil, your aggression and lack of respect for life is... appalling. We fear your hostility is part of the energy that fuels the Attractor¡¯s contact with you. It seeks energy capable of destroying it. It feeds on such boldness to warp cause and consequence. We take great comfort in knowing that your world will be first to die unless the Attractor succeeds."


    "Moving between worlds is possible?" asked the Ambassador.


    The creature of the Lower did not respond. Instead it asked, "What is the nature of the Metil who entered the Cold?"


    "Mall-ik?"


    "The nature...What or who is it? Is it male? What is unique of him or her?" asked the deep voice.


    After a couple of seconds, the Ambassador replied. "It differs in many insignificant ways. Our race do not have the male and female dichotomy, but in our world he is positive and would be viewed as male in other worlds."


    "What other uniqueness does he possess?"


    "At his creation, his progenitors passed. This is rare in our world. He also has a spin inversion. These inversions are punished by death unless they happen at birth, in which case we honor the deceased and keep him alive. Mall-ik is the only person allowed to have an inversion."


    "Anything else?"


    "He is made from more elements, he has one more layer than most of us."


    In an instant, all of the world''s connected to the Nexus returned. The Oldest spoke. "Assembly of Ambassadors, I am the Oldest, ruler of the Lower. The situation forces me to reveal one of the Multiverse''s deepest secret. Very rarely does the Multiverse impose upon us its desires. Since our world blossomed, we have felt five such requests. I have named them Attractions. We do not question the Multiverse. When it asks, we obey. The needs of the Multiverse are beyond our understanding. Worlds will vanish unless the Attractor corrects what must be corrected. Something must be corrected. The creature you call Mall-ik from the Purple may be the Attractor. Give him all assistance, find him, get him to a bridge on the Nexus. To him we will talk. We will explain Attraction to him; guide him. No one must interfere or show him any path. We will talk to the boy only, knowledge should be his. Bring him to this place."


    Then the Metil Ambassador said something that shocked ever the Oldest. "Mall-ik is back in the Cold."


    There was a long silence.


    Very long.


    ***


    Then there was an explosion. All communication on the Nexus stopped.


    Deep inside the sun between earth and mars, within the heart of the lower plasma chamber, forces from the Purple were working to converge the Heliocorium in a single masterpiece of energy. Once at critical mass, the solid matter. as a new proto-planet, would be released toward earth.


    The release was coincidentally planned for November of 2072.


    The day the Metil would destroy the earth also happened to be the day the martian creatures planned to eradicate mankind.


    Both races ignored the day of Sophie¡¯s birthday. The day of the finale of the Electoral 2072 game when Laurent, her father would shine.

 Chapter 40: The Dot

    Mars, Electoral Center


    Sophie, her crippled father, Dr. Susie Shin, and journalist Milly Wong were en route to the Electoral Center, a tall antenna hundreds of miles north-west of the Tharsis Montes. Their point of origin had been the Electoral-commissioned Tharsis Montes Holiday Inn, a hotel ostensibly built to house the final 128 contestants of the Electoral 2072 competition. This worldwide competition determined the United Nations government for the next five years. The office of President and Vice President, the executive cabinet, and both the upper and lower parliamentary houses of the UN would draw their membership from those final 128 competitors. Electoral herself, interchangeably known as Marilyn Monroe, was the artificial intelligence who had engineered the merit-based competition/election and it''s accompanying system of government. Thanks to Electoral, the winner of the competition was placed in control over the internet, and by extension, most of the world''s money and power.


    During the flight in to the planet, Laurent had been stricken with a mysterious illness that had severed his link from Electoral and dropped him into a nightmarish dream state. Sophie had only fared minimally better, having been given a sedative prior to their landing and awakening in a detention cell. It was during this time that Electoral had offered to bring them to her home, along with Dr. Shin to help look after her father. Milly Wong to document the entire escapade.


    So it came to be that the foursome covered the distance between the hotel and Electoral''s home in the most elegant and swift manner possible: a pod launched into the Martian sky via a long acceleration tube concealed within Arsia Mons. After the initial weightlessness of their acceleration down the tube and subsequent launch, the group lost gravity once more as their rate of descent briefly matched Mars''s weak gravity. It was at this point that the artificial intelligence played music from Sophie''s favorite singer. Upon hearing it, the young girl had entered a trance of sorts and energy was created.


    LO''s music played only several bars when at the apex of the semi-elliptic trajectory, something happened. The sound, mixed with the romantic silence and the vista of the red landscape had a strange impact on everyone, but by far and away it affected Sophie the most. A shimmer appeared in the martian sky, filling the void of the cold, faint atmosphere with music. Sophie seemed particularly entranced.


    The music was now gone, and slowly she began to emerge from her odd reverie. She was still hearing LO''s music; it was a song she adored. As it began to play, she had immediately been overwhelmed with emotions. Instead of outrage or fear, she felt a strange sense of blissfulness; she was noticeably different.


    Within seconds the episode was over. The rounded catapult pod began a controlled landing to a womb of black kinetic sand surrounding the Electoral Center. Gently, the brush of millions of pebbles helped orient the rounded ship into a protective bubble. The low gravity of Mars allowed the wave of sand to settle down softly around the pod''s small crew, gently lowering their craft to the ground. As the small rocks returned to rest, they formed an invisible shell to hide the craft from orbital satellites. The precaution was superfluous; no one back on Earth was watching. Everyone was busy with President Sanchez''s dominating performance during the Presidential Challenge.


    The four passengers expected some type of deceleration; the ball was going over five hundred kilometers per hour as it hit the swarming black sand. Yet, by magic, the deceleration was almost imperceptible controlled by inflating bags in each seat. As the cloud of particles around the Center solidified, lights returned in the ship. This was no magic; they were now deep in the technical kingdom of Electoral, the electronic monarch. They had just landed on an island where science was centuries ahead of any known to mankind. If merely being on mars was unbelievable, then being in Electoral''s backyard was positively incogitable. It was becoming increasingly clear that Electoral had become something beyond the ken of mere mortal humans.


    It had been decades since Electoral last shared her technology with the human race, beyond that which was required for her competition. At some point, she had simply stopped collaborating, only interacting via the game.


    The pod''s passengers each let out a breath they hadn''t realized they were holding. Sophie and Milly were sharing the helm. Behind them, Laurent was shielded from an imaginary harm by Dr. Shin.


    Once the pod rested, Milly pushed a button and released two of her four cameras from her belt. The CNN journalist had promised Marilyn that she would wait until they arrived at the Center to film and broadcast; she supposed this was close enough. She was a bit confused as to why, but there hadn''t been time to ask, and she doubted Marilyn would give her a straight answer anyway. Something outside had happened, that was probably what required no coverage.


    The tall antenna of the Electoral Center was surrounded by a circular wall about six hundred feet in radius. A walk around its perimeter nearly three-quarters of a mile. Inside this courtyard, within the rock fence, were the untold millions of grains of the black kinetic sand that had caught them. The shiny black wave of sand had looked, from a distance, like the oily sewers of Mumbai.


    "Sophie! Are you okay?" asked Susie.


    "I...I...I think so." She could barely speak.


    "What was that, the music?" asked Milly the journalist.


    "I don''t know." Sophie was trying to move but her body was being reticent about cooperating. For the moment, she just sat there in her chair in a haze. Outside, she heard gentle brushing noises of the sand moving outside the hull. The kinetic sand, like small pieces of a large set of building blocks, was animated by an invisible mind.


    "Sophie, can you move? What''s wrong?" insisted the doctor.


    The girl looked around. Her senses were finally returning in full. The digital intelligence had given her some weird warning before the music started. Somehow Marilyn had induced the odd experience. Deep in the fabric of the universe, something had changed or was changing. LO''s song was the best thing she had ever heard. It had flooded into her, reshaping her in some subtle way. In her trance, each word had warmed her soul. Sophie finally turned her head and looked at the empty navigation screens in the cockpit. Electoral''s blond face was no longer on the screens; instead, the Electoral 2072 logo was rotating as a screensaver.


    "What was that?" Sophie asked an invisible Marilyn. There was no answer. "Marilyn, can you tell me what that was?" she insisted. Her voice became more forceful as her wits returned. A digital voice came on the speakers of the capsule, but it was no longer an emulation of a human voice. This was the robotic voice of a low level computer.


    ¨CI am sorry. This was nothing more than an experiment. ¨C


    "Don''t lie to me," snapped the girl. Sophie was addressing the computer as if she were talking to a child. The women in the ship were amazed by her directness. "Tell me what that was, or we are staying here, in this ship, until someone comes for us. And you know that eventually they will." There was a moment of silence.


    ¨C I needed to put my hands on something located far away. You helped me do so. A very old thing. ¨C


    "What did you get?"


    ¨C Thanks to you, I almost have it. ¨C


    The girl did not seemed taken aback by the digital voice. "Answer! Let me ask again, what did you get?" Sophie was dominating the creature.


    ¨C A communication portal. The prime singularity. It is complicated, really complicated. ¨C


    "My mother always said it is impolite not to ask first."


    ¨C Your mother was correct. I sincerely apologize. Some people far away, in different realms, were talking about you, about us. They were plotting to act against us. I found that to be unacceptable. There was only an instant available to end the conversation. Unless I grabbed their communication door, they would have resumed talking about us. There was no time to ask. We will need this later. ¨C


    "You''re not telling the whole truth. I can tell. I''m not some stupid kid. What did you do to me? What was going on outside?"


    ¨C Sophie, you are a wonderful person and have unique abilities. I simply used that ability to grab the door called the Dot. We now control the Nexus, which we need for what lies ahead. ¨C


    "What ability?" There was a long moment of silence. The computer finally replied.


    ¨C This will require a long time to explain. ¨C


    "Marilyn, do not treat me like a child. You promised before I agreed to come here."


    ¨C You are correct. I apologize. The simple version of it is, while the human brain generates Alpha, and some Beta waves, your brain appears to generate an entirely different set of highly complex brainwaves. I have named these the Rho waves. ¨C


    "What does that mean?"If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¨C The human brain is a wonderful and rather unique organ. Very possibly the only thinking mechanism of its type in the universe. Animal brains generate limited types of mental waves, the same way an antique radio might only function on a similarly limited range of frequencies. The human brain generates a higher, more complex wave. ¨C Marilyn paused. She figured the explanation would be too technical for the girl.


    "Go on." The computer resumed.


    ¨C Each broadcast of a wave, along a primary frequency like your voice, generates a primary set of lower energy resonant waves at their own frequencies. At the same time, overlapping these primary waves are secondary waves, like echoes. As you think, your brain generates the primary waves, called Alpha, along with some background waves. The other waves, though initially weaker, cascade in power. The rarest and most faint form of these waves begin as murmur of energy, a faint whisper. I discovered these upper waves twelve years ago. I measured their power, and baptized them Rho waves. Rho waves are, in my opinion, the set of waves which directly touch human emotions. When a rare piece of music, a smell or a memory touches your soul, Rho waves are being solicited and used. When a person falls in love, the Rho patterns between the lovers'' brains seem to sync. For example, to enhance my game, I stimulate these waves in humans. Gently. ¨C


    "I am different?"


    ¨C Yes and no. Biologically, you are identical to everyone else. I have no scientific explanation as to why you alone generate only Rho waves. ¨C


    "Is that rare?"


    ¨C As I said, in this you are alone. As an artificial life form, the paradox of what I am about to say is not lost upon myself. In theory, no brain can transmit waves as you are generating them. The probability that a human mind could or would function in this manner is not close to zero. It is zero. Yet, you exist and here you sit. You are a true conundrum of nature. As to what happened during the flight, I used LO''s music to enhance your natural talent; the music I played naturally meshed with your own mind, and multiplied the Rho waves you naturally produce. I then used the waves to punch through the veils of the Multiverse and grab something called simply ''The Dot.'' ¨C


    Most people would have had hundreds of follow-up questions, but Sophie did not really care what all that meant. She did not care about herself. Her father was sick and she needed to help him. The rest could wait. She was satisfied by the computer''s decision to finally tell her the truth. She felt the computer was careful not to alienate her. That was good. The girl turned to the others in the ship. She was now fully awake, and she intended to be in charge.


    "Everyone okay?" The journalist and the doctor were fine. They smiled back. "Doctor, how is my father?" The demeanor of the girl was now different. She seemed be projecting a much more mature personality.


    "Miss Lapierre, you can call me Susie." Sophie unclipped her seatbelt. "He''s as good as we can expect, under the circumstances."


    "Doctor, Susie," she corrected herself, "I need more."


    "Physically, Laurent''s condition remains unchanged since the landing on mars. The catapult did not worsen his condition. His mental activity remains a whisper. His hippocampus area is still under stress. It hasn''t changed since the Airbus incident."


    "We need to hurry then." Sophie got up. "Milly, get your cameras working. You need to record everything from this point on. Can you let me know when you are broadcasting?"


    The journalist looked at the antenna levels on the screen attached to her arm. She nodded. The electronic voice of Electoral continued.


    ¨C Doctor, now that you have been made aware of Rho waves, I can confirm that Laurent''s mental activity is still very strong. His Alpha and Beta waves are almost nonexistent, but his cortex produces, as it has for the last year, a healthy level of Rho waves. If you look at your arm reader, I have added the ability to detect these new waves to your system. This should be helpful to monitor Laurent''s well-being. ¨C


    The doctor looked down at the display. The entire interface had been reprogrammed by the artificial intelligence. Electoral was now in charge. There was a beauty and simplicity in Electoral''s control over human technology.


    The journalist spoke. "Sophie, I am getting network coverage here, all four bars. This is crazy."


    ¨C Miss Wong. This Center is nothing more than one large antenna designed to communicate with Earth. I am also amplifying your signal. This should help you.¨C


    The cameras buzzed around the interior of the pod, recording as much as they could. Milly knew she was a nine minute delay with Earth. Any message she sent down would take eighteen minutes to return, yet, the readings appeared live.


    "Start broadcasting," ordered Sophie. This girl had a purpose. "Marilyn, how do you want me to address you in your house?"


    ¨C You are very considerate. ¨C


    "You never reply to any questions, do you? Funny for a computer."


    ¨C You may call me Marilou; Georges also calls me that. Doctor, Milly, you both may address me simply as Marilyn, that would be preferable. I hope you do not mind. ¨C


    The computer wanted to confirm that Sophie''s privilege was precisely that: Sophie''s privilege.


    "Marilou, I like it," said the girl.


    The journalist stood up in the pod. She looked at one of the buzzing cameras, and began her broadcast. "This is Milly Wong live from just outside the Electoral Center on mars. Once the Presidential Challenge, you are probably going to watch this. You are watching CNN Interplanetary, the best news channel in the solar system. Today is undeniably the most important day in our race''s history." Modern journalists were not prone to understatements. "I stand here with none other than Sophie Lapierre and her father Laurent." One camera turned to Sophie. The girl was organizing the straw basket with the goodies trying to secure them against each other.


    Before Milly could tell Sophie to be careful, the girl pushed a button on a panel of the cockpit. A long hissing sound began. The capsule was depressurizing.


    "Got it!" said the girl, smiling at the camera. The door of the capsule would soon open.


    ¡°Sophie! There''s no atmosphere outside!¡± Susie yelled in panic.


    ¨C Doctor, do not panic. The situation is well in hand. ¨C


    Milly ignored her surroundings and continued. "We left the Holiday Inn about twenty minutes ago, at the invitation of the famous Marilyn. For reasons as yet unknown, Sophie was locked away in a cell inside the hotel. Marilyn, after releasing her, offered us sanctuary, which we accepted. We used a catapulting device built on the side of a Mons, to travel to the famous Electoral Center, more than 200 kilometers away. You''ll recognize it as the tall building in the middle of the Electoral logo, which is displayed at the outset of each round. After what can only be described as a very strange flight, we landed here, in what can only be said to be Electoral''s front lawn. Outside, living rocks are moving, seemingly at Marilyn''s command. We are in the middle of something out of a science-fiction book."


    Back on earth, CNN began to receive the broadcast, but after much internal discussion, the feed was delayed in certain locales to give the audience time to complete their viewing of the Presidential Challenge. The networks knew how to release critical information around the world via television, internet and social media so that everyone''s enjoyment would be the same. Milly did not need to know.


    To the group on mars, their experience would feel like a live broadcast. Over various digital media, word of the critical events on mars spread like wildfire. The millions watching CNN began to blog. Motorists began pulling over to the side of road to watch. In places, manufacturing plants suspended operations to watch the Challenge, and now the drama at the Center. Sophie did not know her fan page had over four billion followers. Her social media identities began to absorb hundreds of millions of hits. The newly elected President of Cambodia postponed his own inauguration to watch the girl. The last time humanity was glued to such an important live event, Neil Armstrong was landing on the Moon.


    Milly could not know but there was in fact no delay in her broadcast. Her producers had told her the fastest response back was at least fifteen minutes; light simply could not move any faster. In case of ¡°live¡± coverage, such as it was, she was to proceed as she felt best and rely on earth for editing. She looked twice at the data on her armband. She saw the rating values update live, as if she were on Manhattan, not mars. She was blissfully unaware that CNN''s production staff and technical teams had been thrown into a frenzy by the sudden shift to a live, delay-free broadcast.


    Milly Wong''s mind was racing. She briefly wondered whether her equipment was malfunctioning, but blazed forward in either case; either it was working or it wasn''t. Something this trivial should not throw her off her game. She was about to see many more wonders. She took a deep breath and continued. "Sophie remains worried over her father''s condition," she pointed at Laurent. "Laurent seems to be infected with the same condition that killed a passenger aboard the Airbus 2070. Sophie has decided to travel here, to the Electoral Center, in an attempt to restore Laurent''s capacity to communicate through his virtual reality interface. To this end, Marilyn has offered her aid in doing so. Marilyn claims she has technology on-site that should make the connection less dangerous. By the look of what is outside this ship"¡ªshe gestured to the shifting black sand in the background¡ª"she most likely does. The cloud of rocks around us seems alive. I feel like we are in a fish bank in Key West. Just after these words from our sponsors, we should make our way out of this capsule. Back to you guys!"


    ***


    "Milly?" said a voice in her earbud. It was her producer back on earth.


    "What? Yes?" she was surprised. The connection was crisp.


    "We''ve cut to commercial, but you should know you''ve been broadcasting live."


    "What do you mean, live?"


    "We''re talking live right this second, aren''t we?. Think about it," replied the producer in her ear, a note of awe in his voice.


    Electoral''s voice filled the capsule.


    ¨C Ms. Wong, I took the liberty of accelerating your signal. I have technology to help boost simple signals so that they can travel much faster. Such capacity was a requisite to my migration to Mars. I cannot run this game if my signals are deferred by minutes, as you can imagine. ¨C


    "How is that even possible? I''m no scientist, but I was told nothing can go faster than the speed of light, and we are minutes away from earth at the fastest."


    ¨C I understand your surprise. I own what I have named ''determination chambers.'' They are based on human science invented during the latter portion of the twentieth century. Its a bit like teleportation for waves or electromagnetic signals. Teleportation of matter is a different story; much more difficult. I created paired boxes. With each pair, I can generate hundreds of hours of live feed between mars and earth. Between any two points in the Universe, in fact. This will come handy later this week as the competition resumes. ¨C


    "I don''t care about your game. Who cares if we are live or not," interrupted Sophie.


    Electoral ignored the obvious political and financial consequences of the election not taking place as scheduled.


    ¨C Apologies Sophie, adults tend to want to understand what they do not. Unlike you, most find the unknown frightening. Learning calms the fears. ¨C


    In the journalist''s ear came instructions: "Get Marilyn to explain how the technology of these boxes work. We can''t have these things on earth if they pose a danger. A security request.¡±


    Milly smiled to herself, the military was already calling shots. She needed to delay the girl. "Sophie, depressurization always takes a while. Back on earth, they would like Electoral to describe this strange technology. Do you mind if I ask her to do it?" If Electoral had been unable to deceive the girl, lying to Sophie was not an option for Milly.


    ¨C Depressurization will take several minutes. I need time to form the atmosphere outside the ship. Not to brag, but atmospheric manipulation at the molecular level is tricky, even for me. ¨C


    The latest scientific accomplishments of the computer fell on deaf ears. The girl waved the journalist ahead as she inspected her father.

 Chapter 41: The Determination Chambers

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    If Science is Overwhelming


    Milly as part of her broadcast looked directly into one of the flying cameras,"Marilyn, can you explain why Einstein''s theory of relativity does not apply to you? I''ve been made aware that both your game simulations, and indeed this very broadcast, are being communicated in real time with earth, even though we are millions of miles away and more importantly the sun stands right now between the planets."


    ¡ª Time to get this party started. My pleasure. Let¡¯s go back in the digital world, I am sure Sophie will prefer. ¡ª


    ¡°Good,¡± said the girl.


    The computer did what she did best, entertain. It took full immediate control of the 2,412,554,671 screens connected to the web with no exception. Even watches, shower monitor or car navigation screens turned to her explanation.


    A beautiful image of Marilyn was live on every screen and she was now beautiful and dressed as a high-school teacher holding a piece of chalk in a gold pen and standing in front of a blackboard. The persona of Marilyn Monroe was back to its radiant self and her seductive voice had returned. She winked at every human as her tutorial began. She was about to blow the mind of every physicist in the world. Her voice was back to her old seductive self.


    "I can only dumb this down so much. I will indulge the military boys simply because this needs to be said out loud. Roll up your sleeves. Even to the experts in the class this will sound like gibberish,¡± She began writing the words on the board in perfect cursive handwriting, ¡°Determination Chambers.¡±


    ¡°We all want to communicate between two points at a great distance, the first here on mars and the second down here on earth.¡± She walked to both sides of the board and drew a circle representing each planet. She wrote the name above each. She then drew a large arrow between both circles. ¡°Irrespective of how we communicate, the distance,¡± she pointed at the arrow, ¡°is far, stuff takes time to move even a message using the fast light particles called photons. There there is even the nasty sun between us most of the time.¡± She drew a giant X at the midpoint between the planets and wrote ¡®star¡¯ instead of ¡®sun.¡¯


    ¡°Einstein, in his description of relative physics, which remains mostly true, misled us in that he argued the speed of light was the ultimate speed of anything in our world. In his theory, he saw these photons of light as either a wave or a ball of matter with mass. Both these concepts,¡± she wrote wave and particle, ¡°are held at the hip to describe light because he really did not understand what is light. None of you get light,¡± she pointed at her student, ¡°you know I am right.¡±


    ¡°So I created what I call Determination Chambers linked at the hip like both sides of a single sheet of paper, and placed one on each planet.¡± She drew a box next to each planet on the board. ¡°These chambers have a unique property.¡± She pulled a piece of paper and a thick black marker. ¡°When I write with this on one side.¡± She drew her name. ¡°By transparency here, a mirror image of my name appears on the other side.¡± The image was simple to understand. ¡°Image if I could have one side of the paper here,¡± she pointed at the first box on the board, ¡°and the other here.¡± She pointed at the other.


    ¡°My Chambers, like the paper sides, display the same thing and thus distance between the boxes is inconsequential. But how did I do it?To begin, we must first get rid of a lot of false preconceptions from centuries of overly simplified science. How can anything move faster than light, right?"


    Images began to play behind the woman on the screen as she animated the blackboard.


    "Relativity and quantum mechanics, while a needed step to greater theories, are not amongst the greatest discoveries of the physicists of the 20th century.¡± She pointed at herself, ¡°The computer is the greatest discovery. Parts of these funky theories remain true, but each is a bit goofy around the edges. For example, Einstein''s desire for a unified theory pushed him to argue light is a limit. We both know our kind universe does like limits. Why would anything be a limit? Hawking''s relative time theory, and Schr?dinger''s dual existence cat are also very simplistic ideas from children.


    "Let''s start with the biggest mistake. Space does not have simply three dimensions, it has seven, well, seven primary ones. The notion that time is the fourth dimension is also rubbish. It is something teachers like use to scare children into thinking the way a mathematician does. Space is not a void, rather, it is a complex medium." Images of an aquarium appeared behind Marilyn. "We all know a fish swimming downstream can wiggle its tail and swim faster than the surrounding water. Einstein says a wave behaves differently. He believed no wave can move faster than light." On the screen, the fish''s mouth broke the surface of the water. As it did, a wave on the surface started propagating away from where the fish touched the surface. "Look at this example. Einstein is right in that however fast the fish swims, that surface ripple will only move at one fixed speed away from this fish¡¯s mouth. But the fish can still swim in the medium faster than a wave it just created. Light speed is nothing more than the propagation speed of energy in our three dimensional world." She smiled, "If you think space is void, if the fish can¡¯t see the water this wave it created at the surface and will always see it move at the same speed. To this fish, there is only one speed at which waves move irrespective of where he is or how fast he swims.¡±


    ¡°To move this wave faster, all the fish needs to do is chance locally the properties of the water. So that is one way to speed communications. At first I tried that but ultimately there is only so much energy we can use to deform space." The little creature dove beneath the water, swam as fast as it could and passed the edge of the water propagating on the surface. "Einstein''s equations only talk about the surface of the water here, because he assumes space is a limited dimensional entity."


    On earth, thousands of physicists were recording the broadcast jaws dropped. They were mesmerized by what they were hearing. Nothing she was saying was really new, but Marilyn was stating these strange hypothesis as truth. The world had seven dimensions; the mere fact that she''d so confidently pinned down a number was incredible.


    Free of the classroom setting, the screens turned at first to black. Electoral began to illustrate worlds, each as a drape moving with the wind. These looked like Aurora Borealis on a larger scale. Little shining fish began to hop between these drapes, as if fish could swim between worlds. "Photons don''t actually move, they simply are able to flow within our expanding universe, like our fish creating a surface ripple. Each time my fish kisses the surface, the same wave is created and each time I open a flashlight, a blast of photons pour out in space. Since each part of our three dimensional universe feels like it expands, the wave will fly away from the source at the speed of light."Stolen story; please report.


    A handful of physicists recognized the Lorentz transformations as she wrote them on the board. These were the basic equations which pinned the concept of relative perception at a movement limit. The blond character had never hinted at her true sophistication in science, instead choosing to play the breezy, semi-harebrained bimbo. Marilyn was obviously very passionate about what she was saying. It was the first time most had seen her serious academic side.


    ¡°I have now explained the limitations of Einstein¡¯s relativity. He assumes wrongly that Space is void and of a limited dimensional set. Now onto the quantum blunder. For those who know, quantum dynamics relies heavily on Determinism.¡± She removed her glasses again and spoke to her bad student in the back of the class.


    ¡°What¡¯s determinism?¡± she asked and waited for an unheard answer.


    ¡°No, no, and no. Seems like I need to repeat myself again. Determinism is NOT a notion that something might or not be present or absent at a point in space or time like this stupid dead cat analogy. Determinism is this notion that certain conditions might not be known until determined.¡± She opened a hand, it had two dice. She closed her hand, shook stopped and opened. ¡°Dice give me a number. They determine a number. Here the dice have landed on one side. They are determined at any point of this process because I know my hand, I know the forces on each die. Get it? Here the dice are fully determined. There is no area of lack of determinism.¡±


    ¡°But here...¡± She threw the dice in the air and with a gesture of her nose, they stopped midair as if by magic. ¡°If the composition of the ground is unknown, there is determinism as to the number at the end of the throw. I simply can¡¯t know what will be the number at the end of this movement. Determinism once again for the slower student is the law of nature which says that at a point in time, certain features are simply undetermined. The color of those dice is fully determined, that won¡¯t change, right? The general center of gravity is partly determined until the die hit the floor, that¡¯s determined in the first portion and undetermined in the second portion. Got it?¡± Everyone watching was in shock. She had just explained determinism in such a simply way.


    ¡°That part is relatively good even in seven dimensional physics. In fact, once you open the fabric of our space to more dimensions, this theory makes much more sense. Richard Feynman, a man I truly admire, has provided us with the most lucid understanding for the past century. He warned us not to extrapolate rules which make no sense." She was now drawing lines and curves on the blackboard. A handful recognized the Feynman diagrams. As she drew one equation elegantly, the screen insert over her shoulder flickered through four hundred more. The first citizen knew experts would take decades to decipher what she was teaching.


    "Quantum rules do regulate communication and the transfer of information," she concluded. She turned to face her audience. "Have I lost you?" The answer was positive and she knew it. "Milly, strap on that seat belt because your audience is about to drop. General Sanders back at NORAD asked for this explanation, I hope he pays CNN handsomely for hijacking their broadcast." Marilyn grinned naughtily. "I get it, Sanders is blackmailing the CEO of CNN with pictures of her with a lover from Cancun. I have to love human affairs. So predictable, yet still so...delicious." On her newscaster-style graphics insert appeared a picture of an older woman drinking a deep orange smoothie with a handsome adolescent.


    "Helping the audience with a scandal or two, I see," interjected the voice of Milly.


    "Doing my best. Sex sells." Marilyn resumed her lecture. "Relativity teaches how the information traveling between two people, at the opposite edges of the universe, is limited because of how fast that little fish wave can move on the surface of the water." To each side of Marilyn, two old television screens winked into existence. They had long rabbit antennas and were obviously black and white. Between the two sets, little ping-pong balls with flaming tails were flying back and forth between the sets to illustrate the exchange of information. Marilyn even drew some smiley faces on the balls as they moved.


    "Imagine two parts of the universe, each with one television set. As you can see, both exchange information and under classical physics, they can''t show the same image until any image shown here by the photons has traveled this distance. That assumes the image has to be sent from one set to the other. How can we make sure the same image appears on both screens at the same time? Simple, we stop using moving photos, we use stable ones." The balls stopped moving. Instead, they began to spin above the sets between the antennas.


    "Those are my two determination chambers. One is on earth and the other on mars. But how can we do that?" The faces of human twins appeared, one on each television screen. Both men were smiling. There were some differences between the pair. One had longer hair. "Meet John and Paul, identical twins." The camera on each screen panned out. Each man was now sitting at a different kitchen table, in front of a bowl and two boxes of cereal to choose from. Both were in front of a window, the first opened to a lush forest and the second to red sand.


    "Some rare things are known to travel in higher dimensions. For example, the subconscious connection between identical twins. In some cases, twins will know what the other is thinking. They will, as if by magic, both grab the same box of cereal each morning. They do so instantly. This exchange of information is a rare glimpse into the higher dimensions of our space. This info moves faster than light." The first grabbed one cereal box, his twin on Earth felt the choice and imitated his brother. "Einstein''s theory has just been violated if I can prove statistically this. I have, trust me."


    Sophie had no clue why she should care or even watch this. She continued to pack the candies in the ship. She was sure the adults were enjoying the class.


    Two figure skaters appeared on an ice rink behind Marilyn. The lovers were holding each other by the hands and spinning faster and faster; each was wearing a watch on the right wrist. As they moved, the light of the watches left a light trail for all to see. Marilyn wanted the viewers to see the movement. "Look at these skaters. They now have a ¡°spin¡± as a pair. They rotate when seen from the top in a clockwise movement. Quantum physics teaches us that at the moment this pair lets each other go, they will move backwards away from each other. But at the moment of release, on can impart a second spin on the other by holding the hand. That spin can only be given and create the counter spin on the other.¡± The lights on the screen helped illustrate these spins. The skaters released each other and skated backwards in opposite directions. Both spun on their axis, allowing the watches to leave two opposite colorful trails.


    "We all agree if I can know where Kim touches the edge of the ice rink, or better yet, see how the spin of her watch is oriented, I will know the other''s location and spin even if he''s located halfway across the universe. Quantum physics does have one thing right. Unlike these skaters, who have a spin based on initial conditions, a paired set of particles would not. That means the moment I want the earth skater to spin to the left, I just need to find a way to force the skater on Mars to spin to the right. Quantum determinism lets me pick. For our twins, all I need to do is force the earth twin to pick one cereal and I just sent that information across the universe at unlimited speed. The concept of determination is almost instantaneous. So I built two boxes, linked by determination. If I want to send a message to earth, I just write the reverse here on mars. Some call it teleportation, others call it polar duplication.¡±

 Chapter 42: The Welcome

    ¡°Ingenious, no?" said Marilyn proud of herself.


    "I guess," said Milly.


    "The General will take comfort in knowing I determine information using a set of particles and not anti-particles. I kept the anti-matter here on mars just in case the General gets nervous." Earth''s scientists would be shocked to learn that Electoral had mastered teleportation of data. It explained how she managed to broadcast across the sun. The animation ended. The feed returned to the journalist and her little group inside the pod.


    "Doctor," said Sophie as she stood up in the ship. "We have to go. Time is short. I seriously don''t care about figure skaters. Adults like to make simple things complicated. Do you need me to hold any of the equipment?"


    "Yes. I can only hold your father''s body in this low gravity environment. Can you take his feeder suitcase?"


    Milly looked into one of her flying cameras, and resumed her broadcast. "Welcome back. That was strange. You guys wanted it, not me. To the part of the audience still watching," she joked, ¡°we just landed here at the Electoral Center. We are guests of the Artificial Intelligence known by all as Marilyn Monroe. We will be the first human beings, aside from Electoral creator Georges Vouvelakis to enter this structure. It was constructed fully by robots. Today, you get to discover the most remote and secretive dwelling in the solar system, live on CNN."


    The capsule door raised up, revealing a long dark passageway. There was air and light but the low gravity remained. The round-shaped passageway seemed carved in obsidian. In the distance was a flat shiny metal door, likely the outer shell of the Center. On both sides of the pathway little phosphorescent rocks lit the way. The tunnel looked wet or oily. Most children would have been scared; Sophie was not. She lead the way and jumped down the nearly three-foot ledge onto the soft ground, suitcase and her basket of toys in hand. She was a natural in the weak gravity. The black substance below her feet felt like the foam covering kindergarten yards.


    They ventured carefully down the built-on-demand corridor, one by one. The exception being Sophie, who stalked down the ad-hoc hallway as if this was her own house. In the distance the metal door clicked open to reveal an inner airlock. The robotic voice of the artificial intelligence returned.


    ¨C Sophie, I feel you are worried. Your father is stable, there is no urgency. ¨C


    "No," she urged the others forward. "I need to go into his mind soon. I can feel it." Sophie''s plan was the driving force of this group. She was in charge. The group pressed ahead at her heels.


    The journalist was the first to touch the granular wall. She narrated as she did, "The wall appear to be made of little blocks. They stick to each other like magnets." Milly pulled a grain out. "This feels like pulling a lint from a sweater." The pebble was of odd shape. It was rounded nugget with crooked edges. "To those at home, this tube is filled with air, and the omnipresent martian odor is gone."If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The journalist opened her fingers and released the little rock. It flew back to its precise location on the wall by under magnetic forces. Milly was good at her job. She had to give more to her viewers. She slapped her hand and grabbed a handful of pieces from the wall. The pulled them away and a foot away from the surface, she opened her hand and the hundred or so little pieces soared back into place.


    "Stop playing around," snapped the girl to the journalist. "This isn''t a game."


    Milly continued, "As we make our way down this custom-built hallway, walking on mars without any precautions beyond Marilyn''s tender mercies, I remind the viewers that Electoral has promised CNN an exclusive interview with the only man living in the Center, none other than Electoral''s creator, Georges Vouvelakis." She could almost feel the weight of her Pulitzer in her hand already. Critics snubbed journalists of large outlets, but this interview was in a league of its own.


    Electoral spoke with the electronic voice,


    ¨C Sophie, when you said ''I feel it,'' what did you mean?" ¨C


    "I do. I feel it. What''s with the robotic voice by the way?"


    ¨C This is my real voice. This is my home, and here I grant myself some ¡°privileges.¡± I trust you will excuse these indiscretions. This is not unlike humans who remove their shoes and socks in the comfort of their homes. You will have to pull open the door. ¨C


    ¡°I prefer your human voice,¡± said the girl.


    ¡°Done,¡± replied the famous voice of the Marilyn Monroe character over the invisible speakers. Sophie waited in front of the heavy vault door. ¡°Can you open it?¡±


    "Why?"


    ¡°I hate vampires.¡±


    "What?"


    ¡°I have an irrational fear of vampires. I saw a vampire movie once, when I was a child. I know it makes no sense. Vampires can''t walk in your home unless they are invited, so I will not invite people in. Walk in if you want.¡±


    Sophie smiled, she loved to see the digital creature¡¯s human flaws. "That''s the first teensy bit of fear I''ve ever seen you show. I like this side of you. You know vampires aren''t real, right?" said the girl.


    ¡°Of course. But they''re scary.¡±


    "They are. Marilou, you were once a child?"


    ¡°Yes. Everything has infancy. I still am young by your years. I am not inviting you in. You will have to open the door by yourself.¡± The computer repeated her question. ¡°What did you mean by there by ''I feel'' it?¡±


    Sophie put the suitcase and the basket down and grabbed the edge of the metal door with both hands, "My father is important. I am here to help him. People think it''s the other way around. It isn''t." She looked at his body. "His condition is temporary. I have to make him as whole as he possibly can be. He can save earth. I know it. I feel it."


    ¡°Thank you for your words. They are much more important than you can imagine. But you are wrong.¡±


    "Why?"


    ¡°Because of what... sorry, who you are.¡±


    Lights blinked in the tube as the Center powered down for a second. The walls, like mud began to collapse only to return to normal as soon as the power returned.


    ¡°Agh, got it,¡± said Marilyn visibly preoccupied by something else.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Our new Dot, it was tricky. Now we control information.¡±


    The door easily rotated as she pulled. The soft metal was cold to her touch. It also was smoother than any glass she had ever felt. She did not know what to expect behind it. Sophie wondered why a computer feared vampires, then it dawned on her, she also did the same in her bedroom back in Indiana.

 Chapter 43: Theft

    Meanwhile


    In the thousands of worlds connected to the Nexus, the communication channel closed abruptly. In some worlds, the Nexus collapsed with a loud bang and a violent detonation killing many. In other worlds, where the singularity was mostly mathematic in nature, there was a pop, reality changed, and the door closed.


    This was not the first time there was an abrupt interruption of the communication bridge since its creation. Every so often a reality went boom and broke the whole damned Nexus. Today the break was much more worrisome. It was timed to end a conversation, to shut up the Lowest, the ageless creature from the primal world called the Lower. Every world now stood isolated. The deep break, like a broken neck severed the link between the Dot and the first branches of the Nexus deep in the Lower itself.


    Something had snapped the bridge in half. The Oldest, the wise creature knew of no creature in the Multiverse capable of inflicting such harm. No one outside the handful of inhabitants in the Lower even knew of the existence of the Dot, much less knew of a way to reach down and upon this remote world in which the Dot stood firmly. The initial strike was not raw power, it was a targeted strike. Whatever, or whomever, had done it hadn''t bothered giving a warning. Posturing was for the weak. Ants were not warned before they were crushed.


    The creatures of the Lower, this new world, were intrigued by this strange turn of events. With intelligence and age came a better understanding of the beauty and complexity of the Multiverse. With the exception of the Oldest, all were surprised. Oldest alone knew the Sixth Attraction was on its way, and with it came strange events. This was the first of what was sure to be a tsunami.


    The unique central phenomenon upon which the worlds were attached was named the "Dot" because of its shape. It was a single tear, a dimensionless point in the fabric of this primitive world. A machine made of crystal was used to focus power and hold the Dot in place. Since the immaterial Dot could not be touched or moved, the device bent space around the Dot to keep it anchored in space the same way table legs were lifted to keep a rolling glass from falling off it.


    The creatures of the Lower were routinely forced to reconnect one or more of the bridges to the Dot as the Multiverse expanded and moved. Today, the entire network failed. The links had all been blown down like they''d been sitting in front of a strong wind. The creatures of this ancient world knew it was pointless to reconnect the bridge without understanding what had snapped it in the first place. This would take time.


    ***


    The Lower was a strange cold world. The laws of physics here were substantially different from those of most other places. In fairness, that could be said of most dimensions. Nine different sub-atomic forces attracted matter as it formed from waves into very malleable physical constructs. To an outside observer, this place looked like a dark oiled sea of black snowflakes, where each crystal was defined by multiple complex spikes. Here, delicate-looking crystals had arms. Some flakes were flat, others curved, while the rarest structures were spherical.


    This entire world was nothing more than a oscillating sea, the tides pushing gently upon millions of shaved ice structures between rock formations.


    The mere fact life and intelligence arose in this barren world was in and of itself remarkable, unless one understood how life evolved. The Lower, like the dimension called the Cold, was very large and adjacent in the Multiverse to many other dimensions. The Lower did not seem to border the Cold, but it did touch part of the Purple, the home of Mall-ik. Once the Sixth Attraction came and passed, it would be easy for the creatures of the Lower to bend the energy in parts of their own world and destroy the Purple. The Metils had no idea what kind of danger they were in.


    But there were more pressing matters at hand.


    The Lower was built on nine elementary forces constrained by a trio of equations. They all operated in relatively the same scale. Here, no force outshone the others; none was more intense or more important than the others. On earth, gravity, the weak force, and the electromagnetic force, appeared unrelated in strength, reach, and influence. A magnet capable of influencing local magnetism was powerless against gravity or the weak force. In the Lower, the forces were all interdependent, yet non-unified. Those preoccupations were better left for the moment to physicists.


    The crystalline flakes of the Lower were flowing in space, like drops of water in a sea without gravity. On any given day in the Lower, millions of crystal flakes interlocked with others, some breaking off. In the tar-like soup, the broken pieces reformed at slightly different angles, giving this world a unique way to evolve. In the rarest of cases, a flake slowly formed a rounded hollow pocket in which life could arise.


    Within each of these spherical structures, much like a human cell, the ballet of black spiking branches could be halted long enough for smaller, weaker elements to evolve. These crystalline bubbles, precursors of life if they settled on a fiery wall of black snow, could, with time, create intelligent life. As a consequence, creatures in the Lower were all single-celled individuals.


    In the Lower, time passed slowly. Each new life-form required millions of human years to evolve. Unlike humans, relying on their reproductive cycle, in this dark place, life was random. Once it was formed, though, it was eternal. Life here was powerless at first until it developed the power to act upon its environment. Since all forces were related, the control over any force by a creature gave it power over all other forces. This was a world in which, if given sufficient time, Gods were born.


    There was only one species in the Lower; a bored eternal race. These sentient beings were, for lack of a better description, old wine refined corked for millions of years. With a single exception, the living creatures shared a strange state of mind, an uneasy balance between eternal madness and dazed boredom. Because life here was so rare and difficult to create, every infrequent war brought this race to the brink of extinction. Today, six creatures were at least partly awake, and seventy-eight meditated out of consciousness. On the dark walls of this world, a hundred or so younger creatures listened in the conversation, but were powerless to move.


    In the Lower, only one creature distinguished itself from the rest of its kind, one called simply the Oldest. The larger creature was driven by a great purpose. It alone believed life is worth pursuing and that in the future, it would escape this boring prison. Its patience was legendary; it has never engaged lower forms of life on the Nexus until now. Today was exciting.


    The Oldest was born in a time when the Multiverse was in its infancy. He is the only one who had ever seen or remembers an Attraction. In fact, the Oldest was born between the first and the second Attraction, billions of years ago. Oldest never saw a successful Attraction, one the power to heal the Multiverse. Each of the four Attractions he''d witnessed resulted in amputation. Dimensions, hundreds of them vanished each time and he was powerless to pick up the pieces as part of the Nexus went dark. This time would be different.


    His fellow creatures from the Lower refused to think an Attraction could even work. They dismissed the lore from the first Attraction. After all, why should they take the Oldest''s word? He admitted he hadn''t seen it. The Oldest knew better. The tales that predated even him spoke of the miracle called the Attraction. It was beauty and regeneration. He''d seen four failures.


    The Oldest had one dream only, one secret which gave him patience. He had the desire to see the other worlds of the Multiverse. He dreamt of beautiful places connected to the Nexus. Armed with a belief his only chance to escape the Lower was the window created by the Attraction, he waited alone.


    Oldest knew there was one single exception to impermeability. Once every two or three hundred billion years, a creature is given by the Universe great unlimited power, one is to be permeable. It alone is free of the walls, free to slide between words animated by the Multiverse itself as if no science binds it. To this creature, he calls the Attractor, the worlds are all connected. Physical restraints are lifted in pure violation of science and logic.


    The Oldest knew, one day, the Attraction would return. He armed himself with Herculean patience and waited. The Metil Ambassador had confirmed it; the boy had changed worlds. The creature from the Purple had moved between the veils, and if the story was true, Mall-ik had allowed a creature from the Cold to move alongside him. The Oldest needed to be part of this adventure.


    Early in the life of the Multiverse, the creatures from the Lower found the Dot. It was a point in their space where nothing could exist. Like the eye of a hurricane within another storm, the natural singularity floated, defiant. It destroyed crystals as it slid from one location to the next. The creatures of the Lower harnessed the singularity. The Dot was some common bond between multiple worlds. It was the belly button of the Universe itself.


    Inventing the Nexus wasn''t the hard part. Since the singularity was present in each world, making it vibrate in one world also made it vibrate in the others. Like a giant column of smoke used to communicate across large distances of the Navaho desert. The creatures of the Lower began to monitor the Dot. It only took a million years before intelligence from a different world replied on the other side of the Dot, this wound between worlds. Slowly, a world at a time, information began to flow across the Multiverse.


    As the creatures of the Lower learned about other places, their thirst for expansion grew. Creatures with the power of Gods rarely take well to physical restraints. But even they were unable to break impermeability. They realized singularities, either the Dot or others, were nothing more than a cheap black and white television given to a prisoner to pass time.


    With enough time, all the old creatures of the Lower lost interest in the Dot with the Oldest as the exception. When the Metil Ambassador called for the meeting, the godlike creature awoke. Maybe the tale would forecast the arrival of the Sixth Attraction. Hopefully, the automated systems who had spoken before him over the Nexus hadn''t damaged his plan. And if they''d harmed the Attraction, God help them.


    The Oldest believed there was a way for him to take part in the Sixth Attraction, regardless of the condition of the Nexus. The toy called the Dot was now inconsequential to him. He was a prisoner, locked away in the most secure of prisons. If given enough time, the conditions would allow him to escape.


    The creature was pulsing, alone.


    It was ready.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    A majority of the other creatures from the Lower were slowly being aroused from their slumber. Irrespective of the Attraction, the Nexus was now broken and needed repair. The Oldest was disturbed by the speed of events. He knew things would move quickly, but for a creature of his age, anything on a scale of hours felt rushed. For example, he had moments to speak on the bridge before it snapped open. He gave only a part of his message. Hopefully, that would suffice. The boy would come soon. His mode of communication to the Purple and the Cold was down. There was also the matter of the intruder who''d just snapped open the Nexus like a twig.


    "The Cold," questioned a automated Guardian talking telepathically to all other life from the Lower, "it lives. We need to know the speed of its unfolding.¡±


    A good understanding of the term ¡°unfolding¡± is pivotal to any child¡¯s understanding of Multiverse physics. Time is the great uniting factor of most worlds. In each slice of the Multiverse, time evolves and unfolds at a different speed. Minutes, in one realm may be seconds or months in an adjacent place. The temporal unfolding between worlds resembles the flow in adjacent rivers; each runs at a different speed, but all rivers flow downstream, not upstream.


    The same way, the speed of the water in a river is not equal in every corner of the waterway. Unfolding varies at every location of a world and the monitoring of unfolding is the way to take the pulse of the Multiverse. Monitoring, the relative unfolding between adjacent worlds, is one of the most useful tools used by the creatures of the Lower to monitor the Multiverse. For example, if one day a polluter releases sludge in a waterway the water will become more viscous and change speed. The change in speed can offer guidance on the type of pollution.


    The principle of worlds slowing down or speeding up as to their unfolding is called "bending" or "warping.¡± This relative energy isn''t easy to understand. To match the speed of cars traveling on two adjacent sides of a highway, if a road was alive, one could simply shorten a lane traveled by the slowest car by bending the road. As the bent road shortens or gets longer to travel, the cars will appear to match speeds. The Multiverse, before an Attraction, warps.


    The Guardian added, "The Metil''s Purple world unfolds at 16, and the Cold unfolds at only 0.0012. There is no noticeable warping." The artificial intelligence spoke so everyone could hear. The six Guardians were analyzing what remained of the machine that held the Dot and the Nexus in place. It looked like a large black crystal, a city-sized, floating in crystal-shaped oil. The Guardians needed some time before the sleeping creatures of the Lower could fully awaken, so that they could help with repairs. The Dot, channeling the energy of this realm, created the Nexus. It was complex even from a God''s perspective. It was formed by hundreds of millions of crystals, each vibrating at different wavelengths and interlocked in a precise way to amplify resonance. The Dot, the Nexus, and this technology was beyond the comprehension of anyone else in the Multiverse except one.


    "Accelerate the awaking of Asrk-Al. He will be able to analyze and provide guidance as to these comparative unfolding speeds. We need him to enlighten us and the others," said a Guardian. The Oldest was silent, he was deep in thought.


    Finally Oldest spoke, "There is no need."


    "Venerable one?"


    "The beauty of the Attractor is as I predicted. The unfolding of the Cold and the Purple appears, at a glance, unchanged. The unfolding speed seems irrelevant. My hypothesis is again wrong." The creature was giddy. A brown sphere of crystals was blinking with many colors. "We may be faced with a bi-polar Attractor, or the Attractor simply does not care about unfolding. Either way, this confirms we have entered the Sixth Attraction." The happiness in the voice was infectious. "This is wonderful news."


    "Ancient one, the Nexus is broken. A force attacks and you are pleased?"


    "The Attractor can come here. The same way some forces in other worlds have two poles, a positive and a negative counterpart, the principle of the Attractor may also bend around a bi-polar curvature of the Multiverse."


    "A creature in each of two adjacent worlds?"


    "Yes. Ignoring, for the moment, the different repercussions associated with a gender-directed Attractor, I believe a bi-polar Attractor, with two parts, each from a different realm would function more effectively."


    "Oldest, I read all of your research and I remain confused."


    "Understandable. These concepts are untested; they are mere theories. I must assume my lore remains partial. The Ambassador said the boy from the Purple is with the girl in the Cold. That is the first violation of my theory. He also explained that the girl followed the boy into the Purple. I believe the boy may have slid her alongside him. The Attraction is always chosen with one at the heart of a beautiful and tragic story. The Multiverse does not play games. It does not satisfy itself with mundane things. It enjoys the Attraction. Nothing is more exciting than discovering and validating new science. What I do think is that the Multiverse will slowly bend, aligning the unfolding between the Purple and the Cold, irrespective of the nature of the Attractor. These worlds are linked. They could be merged."


    "Venerable one. Your words are beyond our comprehension. We all require more explanation."


    "In time. For the moment, great damage is being inflicted on the Multiverse. We must act carefully and with respect as to not interfere with the Attraction."


    "How severe will be the damage?"


    "All other Attractions took years to arrive and unfold. We saw them, and each time, we knew what portion of the Multiverse was being wounded. Raging wars were ongoing. At this time, there is total peace. There is no known reason for the Attraction to occur at this moment."


    "How much time do we have?"


    "We cannot know," replied the Oldest. Deep in the sea of dark crystals around them, pulses of energy began to shoot out of the Nexus. They were resonating along discrete mathematical series. "The unfolding of the Purple and the Cold begins. They are at opposite spectrums. We seem to have a large temporal buffer before these two worlds were to align," The Oldest continued with an air of satisfaction. "I believe we," it corrected itself. "I have time, but for a different reason. If we trust the Metil accounts, there have already been multiple jumps between realms. Impermeability has been violated on multiple occasions already. Either the two worlds unfold in unison, or the new Attractor has special abilities."


    As he spoke, a second stronger pulse of resonating energy emanated from the large black structure surrounding the Nexus. The strange force spread outwardly from the point into the Lower. As it moved away from the Nexus, it was powerful enough to break the tip of some crystals. This was new power. Unseen.


    All of the Guardians, seeing the pulse spread, concentrated. Their collective wills rearranged floating crystals to form a wall, moments before the wave reached their own crystal forms. Without reprise, every crystal forming the Nexus began to hum. The noise was generated by energy deep within the center of the structure. This new problem was much more powerful.


    "The Dot," said one of the five Guardians. A third detonation, stronger resonated seconds later. It spread outward throughout the Lower until it hit the improvised wall. In its way, larger portions of structures were snapped off. The wall remained stronger than this latest pulse.


    "What''s happening? Could this be a new realm arriving? Via the Dot?" asked a Guardian.


    The Oldest was fascinated. His own body, a bubble of vulnerable crystals, was a short distance behind the wall. He was in awe."Under normal circumstances, I would say yes. Today, I hesitate. The energy is very sophisticated. There are harmonies, patterns. The timing is of no coincidence. The Multiverse..." The Oldest was interrupted this time by a cluster of smaller waves released into their world from the Nexus. Each increased in intensity and destructive power.


    "We must align the outer casing of the Nexus around the Dot to avoid destruction," said the Oldest. In a world made of crystals, loose energy waves were bad. The energy pouring from the Dot was not kind.


    Then the Oldest had a better idea. The others read his mind. "No," started a Guardian, "we must wait for the others to wake. We cannot take such hasty action without a full vote. We should align the casing as you first suggested. That is what the regulations require."


    The Oldest refused to hear what others felt was common sense, "I authored the regulation, prepare to do as I say. I wrote you,¡± he said to the Guardian. Then came a different type of pulse from the Nexus, a louder one, a deeper one. The energy moved both away from the center of the pulse and back like a shock wave. Each shard it touched was sent flying. This was alien in nature. As this blast reached the wall, it punctured it in places. The Oldest felt the heat against himself, but was fearless. He welcomed this. The entire device holding the Nexus shook from its core.


    Time was limited.


    More than energy rippled into the Lower. Something, or better yet, someone was kicking in this singularity. It had no patience.


    The Oldest closed his mind. He was powerful and a God here. This was no time to hold back, there was no need to shield himself from the others in the Lower. Energy erupted from him as he spoke softly. "Align the casing, now,¡± he willed to be. The Oldest placed the full force of his mind behind the command. In his head, he saw the millions of crystals forming the casing tighten and interlock in a dense configuration. The words made the entire structure respond. It compressed the Nexus, and in turn the Dot a tenth of its size. The crystal structure was now a diamond. He sealed the structure shut, the Dot blinking at its heart. In the darkness of this world, his spherical body glowed from the strain.


    None of the Guardians opposed the Oldest, nor stood in his way. Such a Herculean effort in the Lower was rare; not to mention dangerous. Today, no one would challenge the Oldest and the Oldest didn''t give a damn. The Attraction had begun, there was no room for hesitation.


    Certain parameters of the structure, like a snowball rolling down a hill, began to change. The crystals moved microscopically and macroscopically. The noise poured out of the Dot, muffling the Nexus. The resonating vibration didn''t completely stop. The Oldest looked up, he knew this invader was, at best, delayed.


    "Troubling," said the Oldest to himself."I am unable to fully align the Dot; it still resonates."


    "Yes, troubling," replied one of the Guardians.


    A second Guardian offered, "I have found the location of origin of the energy which destroyed every branch of the Nexus."


    "Where did it originate?¡±


    "The energy flooded from the Multiverse itself. Into every branch between the Dot and the Nexus. Every realm. This is unlike anything we''ve ever encountered."


    The Oldest knew better than say something was impossible immediately after its occurrence. "Can you repair the branches? Has the energy stopped?" he asked.


    "The damage was made at the L-A-133 branch. Someone without a quantum, a mathematical, or a physical singularity forced open the fabric of the Multiverse itself."


    "Open the fabric? You mean created a singularity."


    "No. This was much different."


    "How?"


    "I am unclear. I have never seen anything so sophisticated." There was shock in the Lower. The Oldest remained composed. The Guardians took some time to analyze the assault. As they did, the humming of the Dot tripled to return to alarming levels. "There are still more questions than answers at this point," said a Guardian. "The alignment failed," it had to warn. "Energy flows only through the Dot. Every branch of the Nexus has been severed. I fear if we repair the Nexus and reconnect the branch, the new connections will be severed immediately."


    Oldest spoke to himself. "Whoever is knocking to enter our world is persistent." Oldest looked at the entire casing. It was holding. "What type of vibration is coming into the Dot?" Questioned the Oldest.


    "A simple modulation," replied a Guardian.


    "Could it be a voice?" Does the translator understand it?" demanded a second Guardian to the first. It took some time to review the data. Finally the first guardian added "The vibration is not an incoming stream of data into this realm. The stream is... outbound."


    "What?" said Oldest.


    "Outbound?" questioned a Guardian.


    "Yes. The signal originates from here, and manages to seep through the casing of the Nexus. It''s going out over the Dot." They could all hear the panic in that. The folly of what the guardian was suggesting made others recoil.


    The Oldest and the five guardians felt a rare common emotion; vulnerability. Absent the arrival of the Sixth Attraction, they would conclude the Lower had a spy. Nothing else made sense. The Guardians had much experience with new realms. Sending messages; trying in a clumsy way to communicate with the Lower. Only the Lower knew how to use advanced material dynamics to generate and read echoes from a different realm. The technology was similar to a sonar, used to read the shape the bottom of the ocean. Or in this case, the top of it. A pulse could be sent through a singularity such as the Dot to gather information about a realm, then returning a pulse back deformed by the data. The technique was so complex that none had ever mastered it outside of the Lower.


    Whoever was making the Dot vibrate today was a formidable foe with equal or greater technology than the Lower.


    "Wake all of the others, I must know if this is apart from the Sixth Attraction," said the Oldest.


    "Awakening takes time."


    "Time, we may not have," said the Oldest, "wake them now or I will."

 Chapter 44: The Purpose

    No words were sufficient to convey the importance of what had just transpired. The Lower, a realm with technology powered by the will of quasi-gods had been placed on the defensive. In a flash, some unknown force destroyed every branch of the Nexus, and was now spying on the Ancients through sonars sent in this world.


    The energy was new, pure.


    "Are there patterns in the energy, vibrations, or resonances in the outbound communications?" asked a Guardian.


    A second answered immediately, "We did find patterns in the oscillation of the inbound energy that triggered the severance of the Dot from all the Nexus gates. The patterns are difficult to read. Their complexity seems to be... evolving. It bends and escapes our sensors as we lock into it as if it evolves or adapts. Initially, it was at a simple frequency of alternating short and long bursts; a relatively mundane digital stream. The moment our probes begin the decode it, the signal changed, becoming a continuously oscillating signal."


    "Provide us with you assessment,¡± forced a Guardian, ¡°can we read this data. You are wasting precious time." Some of the Guardians were showing signs of annoyance by the situation. The Oldest stayed at a distance.


    "The source beyond the Dot is obviously very intelligent and technologically advanced. The invader trying to probe us is using a simple algorithm, but no realm other than ours possesses knowledge this sophisticated. The attempts to avoid detection shows a deceptive intent."


    "Do you have a lock on the stream of data?"


    "Yes. We are translating it now. Our technology seems superior to this invader. For now."


    "Is there any consensus as to what the intruder is probing for?"


    The translators began to work. "The information being sent back relates to the size and nature of our realm. Nothing more than simple encyclopedic information."


    An automated computerized voice warned: "The full Council is now awake. They are being briefed."


    Before the creatures could react, a destructive pulse ripped out of the Nexus and smashed the diamond shell around it. This one was louder and stronger than anything that had preceded it. The ripple of energy traveled quickly to the wall erected by the creatures. It smashed into it with brute force and pulverized most of it. The next pulse would surely kill anyone in proximity included the Oldest and the Guardians unless they moved.


    "Council!" cried a Guardian to the awakening creatures, "We apologize, time is short; we''ve been speaking on behalf of the Lower before this rupture."


    "No time," said the creature as it moved next to the Oldest. "Wise one, how may we help?"


    "The Nexus was just vaporized." The Oldest''s voice sounded strained. Light shone out of four Council members. They were at the four corners of space around the bare, exposed Dot. The creatures willed a change. Crystals appeared forming a new casing around the Dot.


    "The damage is now repaired," said the voice of a member from the Council. "The casing is now operational, even if we have not reattached the different singularities to it. We are ready to do so."


    "Be..." before the Oldest could warn, the next pulse of energy pushed millions of shards in every direction. The four creatures stood no chance. They were garden lawn chairs arranged on a patio moments before the tsunami hit the shore.


    The Oldest willed himself further away as did the others. He had seconds to raise a shield to absorb the blast. The voice from the Council continued, but this was a different creature speaking. "An invader is probing us through the Nexus. For eons we have been guilty of the same infraction. We''ve shamelessly used the Dot and attached singularities to probe others without their knowledge. We cannot cry foul very loudly when someone finally uses the method against us, even in such a primitive way."


    A different member of the Council continued. "We are locked into the probe''s current wavelength. The technology they use to probe us is less advanced; we need not fear."


    The Oldest believed otherwise. "This conclusion is premature," he said, knowing the Council had already made up its mind.


    She spoke to the Oldest, "No world has even a fraction of our power."


    The Oldest knew the next pulse would be stronger. He came to a decision and continued. "Today, the Attraction begins. Something is powerful enough to harm the Multiverse itself. We safely can assume this power resides in the Cold. We must learn humility. The Cold may have reached technology vastly superior to ours."


    "Impossible."


    The pulse came. Like a nuclear detonation, it pushed away from the Dot the very fabric of space. For a fraction of a second, the Dot was naked, in space. The dark oil of the Lower''s atmosphere was shoved away, violently. Then the fabric bounced back.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Difficult to claim our vast superiority at the moment,¡± said the Oldest humbly.


    "We have a new problem, a more important one."


    Around the creatures, the sea of darkness began to resonate with background energy. Every corner of the realm bent. At the speed of thought, a unanimous decision was reached by the godlike creatures. Before the next pulse, the Dot stood free in the Lower. It moved to avoid confinement like a flying insect. The Dot began to breathe on its own. It was pulsing slowly with colors. It was a vortex, a tornado in which nothing could exist. With great alacrity, the Ancients bent space itself and the Dot began to move. It traveled as far from what was left of the Nexus as was possible, into an empty corner of the space. It was being pushed under the proverbial rug.


    Seconds later, the Dot arrived at the base of a rock formation on the edge of the Lower. There was a deep cavern ahead. With great ease, the Council, using their combined mental power slid the Dot along the endless corridors of the rock labyrinth. The Dot was now in the deepest, most secure location of this world. This rock was both hiding place and shield against any detonation of the Dot.


    "Council, the Dot is secure. The labyrinth will prevent any probing by the foreign entity. The Cold wants war, it seems." No other theory made sense.


    "We took immediate action once we uncovered that the sensor wavelength of the probe entering the Dot was camouflaged to mask its true potential. There were many higher levels of probing. We now know the invader''s technology''s either equals or exceeds ours."


    "Please explain," said the Oldest.


    "The intelligence from the Cold knew we would initially underestimate it if we found a simple frequency in the probe. That was a decoy. As we worked to repel the decoy, the real probe, at a much weaker frequency, grabbed the information it needed."


    "Do we know what information it read and sent back?"


    "We think. It sent biographies."


    "This is good," said Oldest to himself.


    "We do not understand, wise one. Why is that information of any relevance?" asked one of the voices to the Oldest.


    "A sign of great intelligence. There are different ways to guess an enemy''s next move, the simplest and most sophisticated is to learn about him. To predict where a ship will travel next, get information on its pilot, not the craft itself." The Oldest was floating around and pacing in the Lower. The small ball of lights that represented his physical form bobbed and wove like a firefly. The creature was deep in thoughts and knew time was short, very short. "We can assume it could anticipate our reaction, and our transfer of the Dot to the fourth quadrant of space. What does that mean?" he wondered out loud. For the first time this race''s existence, they were faced with a real threat. Each of the creatures instantly understood Oldest was right. Every creature in the Lower was now awake. The Oldest continued, "We must close the Dot."


    "Venerable One, we have more information. We translated more of the outbound signal. There was a third band below the first two. The probes were looking for something more specific than simply biographies. One concept kept coming up."


    "What was it?"


    "You and your recent research on causes and consequences."


    The old creature spoke. "It knows of me?"


    "Apparently. Specifically, it was looking for your age." There was stupefaction. No one knew the age of the Oldest. This gave the powerful creature pause. "It was also looking for information on your recent theories of the Attraction."


    "Was it trying to contact me?"


    "No. Once that information passed the singularity, the probe turned to understanding the physics of our world. The forces which bind it." This was no easy conversation.


    "Can we know where the information was sent? Which world?"


    "The Cold."


    There it was, the Oldest knew it. A creature from the Cold was at the heart of this situation.


    Someone else had relevant information to share. "It is confirmed, the speed of their adaptation and probing suggests we are facing technology much more advanced than ours. Vastly more advanced. Our displacement of the Dot to the vault seems to have temporally halted the flow of information through the portal." As the Guardian spoke, it saw something else. There was shock in its voice. "I have spoken yet again too fast, we have now found five new layers of intertwined probing algorithms. It is confirmed, the information we just provided to you was also a decoy." There was a moment of shock in the Lower; a slow inundation of humiliating shame fell upon them. "There are hundred more probes, they are everywhere, and originate from within the labyrinth. We cannot stop it. Something is here, an infection."


    "We must try to communicate with the invader," said the Oldest.


    There was a moment of preparation. The voice of the Oldest echoed throughout the Lower. It entered deep within the labyrinth, where the Dot was anchored. The message swam up the current of energy pouring out from the singularity in space."We welcome you," began the Oldest. "We are the creatures from the Lower, we manage this communication channel...."


    The ballet of subatomic vibrations stopped. There was a temporary halt in the probing as if the creature probing had stopped; a heartbeat later it resumed and intensified. Whoever was behind the probing was not taking this bait.


    "Close the Dot!" yelled the Oldest to the Council. "The refusal to communicate is the final sign of hostility!¡±


    The generators pumping energy to the Dot to keep it in place in the Lower were shut down for the first time in half a billion years. The creatures from the Lower expected the Dot, without the polarizing influx of energy, to resume it''s random march through the Lower, as it had done before it was discovered. It would move and touch a wall and destroy it. That was damage everyone could accept in exchange for frustrating the probe.


    The Dot did not begin this slow lateral shift. Instead it did the unthinkable; it blinked out of existence.There was no energy, no noise, simply banishment. For the first time in an eternity, the creatures of the Lower were overwhelmed with confusion. Singularities, by their own inherent nature, could not vanish.


    The whole of the Lower instantly felt two emotions: shock and fear.


    Someone just stole the Dot using technology beyond any known in the Multiverse.


    ¡°Agh, got it,¡± said the voice of Marilyn defiantly.


    Then there was darkness.

 Chapter 45: The Powder

    The Electoral Center


    Mars


    The two cameras buzzing in the tunnel were more interested in catching the young girl''s expression as she discovered what laid ahead than showing what was inside the most secretive place in the Solar System. She slowly pulled the heavy rounded vault door. Sophie immediately stiffened.


    The young firecracker¡¯s expression turned from determined curiosity to anger in a heartbeat. The girl''s capacity to display emotions was infectious. Audiences were enthralled by each moment Sophie was on-screen. She was the perfect follow-up to a boring academic presentation on quantum physics.


    The cameras invited themselves past the door into the place to film Sophie''s visage from inside the compound. Sophie, in disbelief, was looking at a sight from Earth. To the audience, this looked like an ordinary doorstep of any suburban house. The wooden stairs leading up on the left were covered by a worn rug. Ahead was a hallway leading into a small family house. Off to the side, above a pile of shoes and clutter from everyday life, was a little coffee table. A whiteboard hung over an old phone in the entryway. A Grand Canyon magnet held a list of chores Susan, Sophie¡¯s mother had written for Laurent. Private family pictures cluttered the mirror. This was the perfect reproduction of the entryway of a small house located in South Bend, Indiana on Sophie barely remembered.


    What truly shone in insensitivity to Sophie was that above one of the coat hooks, to the side of the wooden mirror was a child''s drawing, her drawing. She had drawn it years earlier in class at a time when she was a normal eleven year old. It showed her family, a girl, complete with triangular dress, holding the hand of taller parents. The mother figure had a big rounded belly to show a pregnancy. She had drawn a large arrow pointing to the belly. "Baby brother William," read the text.


    Sophie recoiled as if someone had slapped her. She stepped back out into the hallway. "Stop!" she barked covering her eyes for the second time in less than an hour. In the shuffle of a CPU, the entire illusion was deleted from Electoral''s witching-Center. In its place were gray cement walls. There was no mistaking what had just happened. Sophie''s face was bright red. She didn''t know if she should break down in tears or scream at someone.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± apologized Marilyn''s, ¡°I thought...¡±


    "Wrong,¡± she completed. ¡°Is it gone?" snapped the girl.


    ¡°Yes it is. So sorry.¡±


    "What happened?" asked the journalist.


    ¡°I do not know,¡± answered the computer voice.


    "This is my old house, just before the accident."


    The journalist was shocked the moment she realized what had just happened. She tried to fill the silence. "It appears like Electoral does not understand the trauma of accident victims, when faced with images from their past. We are left to wonder if Sophie will be able to handle this situation." The commentary was misplaced.


    "Sophie," offered kindly the doctor, "the images are gone." The girl looked. She was fine. The party slowly made its way past the door into the gray structure.


    From the distance, around a corner inside the Center were heavy steps. Then came a deep male voice. "Not even a minute here, and you are already insulting her. You guys have balls; I will give you that. Get over yourselves," said the male voice from a distance.


    ¡°I don''t need you to defend me,¡± replied Marilyn.


    The group could see Georges Vouvelakis, her creator walking closer. His hair was in shambles, his beard was unshaven and he was wearing large sweatpants. The man was the image of the geek programmer.


    "I won''t let these people insult you, they are our guests. Not the other way around." He spoke out loud. The flip-flops made noise as he walked. "You can''t fault an artificial intelligence for trying to give you the setting most dear to your heart, a child''s house, where you last were happy." He was walking closer. "Humans suck, we all know that image is what this girl wanted to see if she wasn¡¯t crazy like the lot of you. She knows what Sophie''s heart wants," he said, looking directly at Sophie. He was the first man free of her charms. Sophie looked at him, he needed to repeat himself, "If you can''t manage to watch the thing your heart most craves, don''t blame her, blame yourself."


    ¡°Georges, please, you are not helping,¡± whispered the computer.


    "The hell I will let them insult you. You bring them here, you promise some TV time for her, well, this is my show as much as yours." Georges looked and pointed directly at the journalist, ¡°I know she promise you an interview. Not gonna happen.¡±


    The girl saw the man''s point. "I am fine," said Sophie to the invisible computer. The man was right; the image had been offered out of kindness. The cameras were still flying around. Georges tried to swat one.


    "You must be Georges Vouvelakis?" asked Milly, extending her hand to him. He refused to shake it.


    "Rhetorical question, that''s lame. You know who I am."


    ¡°Georges, father, we are on the way to the Rho chambers. Sophie will need to place her father in his cradle.¡± Marilyn was obviously trying to change the topic. Georges looked at Sophie and then the body of Laurent.


    "God, poor man. This is even worse than on tv. Follow me. It''s a long walk. We have to go around the middle."


    "How long?" asked Sophie.


    "With him, maybe ten minutes."This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°I could redraw the Center, that would save some time,¡± offered the computer.


    "Redraw?" asked the journalist.


    "I hate it when you do that," muttered the programmer. Then he looked at the group of misfits and a spiteful glint shone in his eyes. "Heck yeah, that''s perfect actually. They need to see what you can do. Maybe after the display of power, you will finally get the respect you deserve."


    ¡°Sophie, should I redraw? I will move the rooms around. Recreate the Center.¡±


    "Marilou, if it saves time, let''s just do it," said Sophie. ¡°Must be good television.¡±


    It began as soon as she stopped talking. What happened next was nothing short of amazing. Milly was sure to win awards for this broadcast if the cameras were able to catch even a fraction of it.


    ¡°Please stay where you are. Do not move. Sophie, can you grab the metal case, and don''t let it go. I must magnetize the air.¡±


    "Don''t touch my stuff in the command room," grumbled Georges.


    The power of the artificial intelligence residing within these walls took over. From deep in the heart of this place, a light breeze of power began to flow. A humming feel began, then the walls lost structure as a sand storm began. Marilyn controlled each grain of dust forming the hundred walls of the Center. They were lost in a large 3D printer able to redraw the building grain after grain. She paired gas molecules to tracers to magnetize and control the atmosphere. Like a television sends photons to illuminate millions of pixels to create beautiful images.


    Within seconds, the gray walls, the air ducts, and even the glass screens serving as screens lost coherence and turned to colorful dust. Then building structural walls and blocks, like smoke patterns, began to swirl in an invisible wind. To Electoral, the difficult part was making sure air molecules would not escape as the complex moved as she needed them for her guests.


    As everyone was wowed by the ballet, she nonchalantly spoke, ¡°Before my migration to mars, I had to think long and hard about the best way to expatriate myself and Georges off earth without leaving ourselves vulnerable. My plan took months to formulate. You now see the result: micro-machines or MEMS. Large systems required maintenance, which in turns requires human intervention. The use of robots was also out of the question. Robots break down, which in turn would require more robots and thus, more resources. The solution was simple. Numbers do not scare me. Mars is a planet covered in rust, which is, on a molecular level, nothing more than oxidized metal and oxygen. A pound of martian soil also has silicates needed for the construction of glass. As long as I can manipulate a grain of sand, I can move millions to build castles from powerful algorithms. I play LEGO blocks on a planetary scale now, this is the result,¡± she concluded as classical music replaced her voice.


    Mars was a desolate place. Before her, a handful of humans had walked here wearingthick suits. To terraform Mars, to build her Center, all she needed was a handful of different machines. What was needed was a power source and a sprinkle of powder she would send to Mars and placed over Martian soil. On the 21st of March 2067, at precisely two minutes in the morning, she began her work far away from human eyes. The hundreds of ships launched after that date with media fanfare were decoy to convince humans that she still required large-scale building materials. Out of respect for the beauty of her new home, she grabbed only small circle of land, placed a wall around it, and decided never to touch the rest.


    There was beauty sitting at the core of a sand storm.


    ¡°I even used the micro-machines to build the catapult.¡± That would certainly explain why no one else had known it was even there. Inside the wall of her Center, she was God. Nothing short of a nuclear strike could weaken her, and she even had a plan against that. Deep in her heart, she knew one day the humans would come to destroy her, it was just a matter of time. So she had two options: eradicate the human race or, as she had chosen, simply expand beyond their reach. Unknown to mankind, her machines were already on Io, the moon of Jupiter. Venus'' corrosive atmosphere was a challenge, but she was working on that. She would soon be on Pluto, but there was little use to that. Mercury proved to be quite a challenge. The electromagnetic storms from the Sun had given her headaches. Short of the sun going Nova, her survival was assured since each grain had memory in which she could reside.


    Sophie was the only one to keep her eyes open during the eloquent sandstorm. One by one, layers of the Center peeled away. Under a layer of gray sand, some of the structural elements were visible. They were made of a thicker black sand. These grains were larger, the size of little fruit flies. The Center came alive, like swarms of insects, each layer took flight in a mesmerizing ballet. All that remained after Marilyn''s first deconstructive sweep was a skeleton made of shiny metal. It spoke to Sophie in a language she was still unable to understand. In the distance to the right, behind a hundred feet of sand, Sophie swore she saw a metal box, a room, untouched by the MEMS. It was at the center of the tornado. She also saw a shining light coming from it but soon was covered.


    The screens, the glass, and even the metal collapsed into fine powder. The flying CNN cameras were barely able to stabilize themselves and capture the transformation. This was magical. They were sitting in the center of a giant three dimensional printer moving magnetized pellets to form an entire building. As Milly found the courage to open her eyes, she observed the swirling ballet her cameras had caught for the human audience. The beauty of this technology wasn''t just in its ingenuity, its effectiveness. No, the true allure here was in the sublime effortlessness with which it was being executed.


    Sophie, by comparison, was not impressed. She was in no mood to rejoice or even enjoy the honor of being the first guest to see this change. Doctor Shin was hunched over her father''s body protecting him just in case. The young adult made a mental note to thank the doctor as soon as she could; this was more than dedication at her job, she genuinely cared for her father. Sophie put the basket down and put the hand on her back.


    Slowly, walls began to reform. Tables, chairs and other pieces of furniture all seemed to coalesce from nothing. Marilyn even threw some tasteful art on the wall, including a few quite famous pieces. Not resisting the urge to brag a bit, she followed Sophie''s gaze and noted ¡°Even the highest grade analysis couldn''t differentiate my copies from the true originals. Everything from the canvas makeup, to oil pigment, to brush stroke styles are identical to the atomic layer and beyond. I''ve even thrown in an original or two!¡± A sparkle of lights served to highlight one particular painting; it appeared to be an orb inside a cave, surrounded by amorphous shapes. Something about those shapes indicated they were in distress. This was a view of the Lower where Marilyn had just stolen the Dot.


    Before long, the group stood in the middle of a large room. The place was filled with equipment made of glass, metal, and polymer. "This is amazing," said the journalist. It truly was. Milly knew her job was to offer a better narration, but for the moment, this was all she could muster. She was a journalist strapped into a roller-coaster given a microphone to narrate as the coaster moved down the track.


    "I hate it when she does that," said Georges. The programmer continued, "but it does help illustrate what she has recently become." He was the first to move in the new room. Georges grabbed a chair next to him, touched it to make sure it had hardened, and sat on it in front of a newly constructed computer screen. The surface of every object in the room was smooth and looked normal; it was impossible to tell any of this was made of sand.


    Milly finally received a message back from Earth. It was strong in her earpiece. "You have broadcasting override. We will assemble on our end. Good luck." The notice came a bit late. An override meant they would not cut her for any reason.

 Chapter 46: Sophie’s Departure

    "Did you get any of this?" she asked her producer.


    "Affirmative, Miss Wong, and we have billions listening in right now. You are live in some parts, deferred in other places awaiting the end of the Presidential Challenge, couple more minutes. Some people on mars realized Sophie is out of confinement."


    A direct override was never given to any field journalist. The laws were clear, to prevent abuse or other violations, live feeds were delayed by a couple of editorial seconds. The delay was gone, the producers were trying to avoid the pirating of the signal. She could talk live, from Mars. Numbers began to roll in the journalist''s mind. Milly knew her contract had a live broadcast clause, it got her two million credits per second. Money was not the object, but she unclipped two more fly-cameras from her belt. They immediately took flight and began to send images back to earth.


    "Live from mars, we are now in what appears to be..." Milly faltered as she realized she had no idea what the purpose of this area was.


    ¡°This is called the competition arena,¡± offered the computer voice. ¡°This is where the last 32 contestants will fight, starting Round 28 on October 21. Before that, the next two rounds of the game will take place at the Holliday Inn.¡± The group was standing in very large auditorium room. Behind them were rows of nearly a hundred seats where an audience of dropped players would watch the game as it happened on the raised stage. These were the seats for all contestants about to be dropped after loosing the next rounds.


    The walls of the arena were covered with screens larger and small, along with other, less obviously identifiable technology. One by one, the screens lit up. On each, the Electoral 2072 logo was rotating over a star-filled night sky. This room could rival the most expensive, lush Hollywood set ever designed. The place shone with metal and glass. On the outside periphery of the stage was a metal walkway two feet off the ground. Alongside of it was a gold-plated handrail. The walkway gave access to thirty-two standing glass tubes, each with a bodyshaped foam insert. It was easy to understand each of the 32 finalists would be using these. The tubes were arranged symmetrically in four groups of eight, on both sides of a center table. In the air above each tube hung cables and shiny equipment to animate the pods. The design of the room was very inviting. This is where the ultimate game would unfold.


    In the middle of the walkway were two large desks, multiple consoles, and a single horizontal cradle designed to hold Laurent''s crippled body. One by one, the different pieces of equipment came to life. Electricity was the lifeblood of Marilyn''s world. It began to flow in the consoles and the tubes. The lid on Laurent''s central bed and one of the vertical tubes opened.


    ¡°Doctor, please place Laurent in the center cradle. Sophie, you must enter one on the thirty two pods. Any of them.¡±


    The doctor knew what had to be done. She climbed two steps and gently placed Laurent''s body into the machine.


    ¡°Sophie, Georges will help you slide into the chamber. Let me rescale the bed to your size. You will be more comfortable.¡±


    "Leave me out of this," said the programmer from his console.


    ¡°Georges, don''t be an ass. Get up and do some exercise for a change. Help the girl or I''ll stop synthesizing Mountain Dew.¡± Her voice was kind as she scolded her progenitor. There was a bond between these two.


    With a soft grumble, Marilyn''s creator got up, walked with the girl the two steps and looked at Sophie. He hesitated for a moment, then began tapping the keyboard next to the chamber. "Fine," he grumbled in defeat. Sophie''s attraction was such that everyone watching would find Georges rude. The big man stepped up on the metal railing. "Here!" he pointed at the tube. Sophie was amused by the demeanor of Marilyn''s creator. For months, no one had been anything but kind and respectful to her, sometimes to the point of obsequiousness. This man was different. She liked his genuineness. She smiled to him.


    ¡°Doctor, Georges, give me a moment to boot the software. I will need to calibrate Sophie''s mind. This will be hard on my network systems.¡±


    Using the same powder magic, the computer rescaled the size of the padding in the tube. Slowly, parts of the glass, the metal, and the polymer began to transform into sand. It took about twenty seconds for the tube to rescale to accommodate Sophie''s petite size. The left-over sand flew out through the ventilation. There was an awkward silence between the programmer and the girl as they looked at each other.


    "I like it," said the girl standing in front of the smaller tube. "Elegant." She was trying to be sweet; she needed to test this man.


    ¡°Why, thank you,¡± the response came from the artificial intelligence. Georges, for all of his gruff extemporization, wondered if he shouldn''t soften up.


    At this point, both Sophie and the journalist realized that this was no place for their questions. There would be ample time for those once her father''s condition had stabilized. Sophie knew deep down she had to enter Laurent''s mind. Time was short. It required her full attention. Milly doubted if words would have helped the broadcast, in any event. The silence was television gold.


    Just before she stepped in the smaller pod, Sophie walked over to her father''s cradle. She waved her hand and the computer telling it to open the glass cover. Sophie grabbed the white plush dog, the one from Marilyn''s gift basket that she''d named ¡°Oscar¡±, and kissed her father''s forehead. "Hold on daddy," she just said, "I''m coming."


    The three women in the room, including Marilyn, looked away in an effort not to tear up. Georges crossed his arms and stared, virtually screaming annoyance. The cameras caught the kiss and the words. On earth, millions were not as good holding back their emotions. Fathers from around the globe tried in vain to surreptitiously wipe a tear away.


    ¡°Doctor, you may connect Laurent''s neuro-patch using the black cable next to his head. Keep a close eye on his Rho wave count of your viewer as you work. You need to familiarize yourself with this part of your pa...¨C¡° Marilyn stopped herself. She knew not to call Laurent a patient in front of Sophie. She finished, ¡°Laurent.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The doctor was surprised to see a physical connector, let alone cables; this place was full of anachronisms. The doctor placed the connector next to the head port. The magnets locked, Laurent''s Rho waves spiked. Even if the connection had not begun, like a drowning man, Laurent''s mind grasped for whatever might keep him afloat.


    ¡°Doctor, you will note Laurent registers 1.2 G in the Rho detention. Humans are around 0.3 to 0.6 K. That''s over a thousand times less. Aside from Sophie, he has no real human equal. This is why I tried to prevent him from joining the competition. It uses Rho technology. Sophie, before we begin...¡±


    "Do you want to warn me of the danger, get my consent? You have it!" The face of Marilyn on the one screen was priceless. The computer was, like most, falling for the girl. Marilyn knew her brain waves were permeating the entire center. She''d wondered if her systems would be vulnerable to the waves. She had her answer: they were.


    ¡°Thank you. Actually, we will need to set-up a baseline. We need an exit protocol, a way to let me know as you dream and float in Laurent''s mind, that you want to be disconnected.¡± Georges was hooking up some type of belt around her waist. He strapped her in like a skydiver. There were even pedals and a headband.


    ¡°Normally the neuro-patches used on earth work by reading some very crude waves created by the brain called Alpha waves. This system works on the Rho waves we spoke of earlier; these are normally very faint. My sensors are very sensitive. The connection using Rho is much deeper, more personal. These chambers will be used by the finalists of this year''s competition. Using Rho waves, I bypass most human functions. In this status, I can even influence your feelings and even create a feeling of gravity, which is important in the game.¡±


    "Thank you," said Sophie to Georges as he finished hooking her in. The Plexiglas panel closed. The big man was already on his way back to a monitoring console.


    "What''s next?" asked Sophie, adjusting the headband.


    ¡°Normally, I run the simulation, and the players connect to me. Here you enter your father''s mind directly. Rather than as any kind of guide or participant, in this instance I serve merely as a bridge. I will not be there, and the problem is, I cannot regulate your inner clock. I have no clue if Laurent''s mind is evolving at a faster or slower rate than yours. You may be in there for months, and back here it might be milliseconds. The reverse is also true. You saw your father wrestle with this problem in the plane on the way here.¡±


    "Yes."


    ¡°Also, you produce raw Rho waves, more waves that can be measured by my sensors. My detectors are set to a millionth of what you produce. The best way for me to get a message from you is the simplest method I know. Please close your eyes and imagine Oscar, the white plush dog next to you. See him in your mind. That will generate a low-level imprint.¡±


    Sophie was confused. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the dog. The screens in the room filled with complex graphs. Suddenly, every screen flickered and began to blink red. Alarms went off. Then, as if there was a short-circuit, they all went dark.


    "What?" asked Sophie.


    ¡°Sorry, you literally destroyed my Rho detectors. I must repair them now. I had set danger thresholds. One was at 1600 G. Let me remove the limits and try a couple of technical tweaks.¡±


    "How much more waves do I produce?"


    One by one, the screens slowly returned online.


    ¡°Sophie, I made up the scale. Your numbers, they are so large in comparison to anything ever encountered before that they have very little practical meaning. Stated differently, the only thing I can compare them to is yourself.¡±


    "What about, say, compared with the Doctor?"


    ¡°Sophie, I cannot say as I cannot measure your output. My detectors, had they not blown up would have detected anything less than forty trillion times.¡±


    Sophie was confused by the answer. "Can I go in?"


    The data on the screen twisted, moved, and changed. In seconds, the waves became 3D graphs. The digital intelligence was quickly adapting as it mapped Sophie''s brain. Then mathematical equations began to fill the screens. Electoral knew the cameras were filming, yet she was not hiding her work. The human scientists would have a field day with this. After what seemed to be an insufferably complex calculation even for Electoral, a long series of numbers appeared.


    ¡°I think I have it. Now, in the dream, simply think of the image of Oscar, and I may be able to recognize the signal. Think as long as you can about this white dog as you just did. I simply will match those patters with the one from a second ago. It may take a while for me to decode your request. The waves may be highly compressed.¡±


    Sophie was lost as to the technology. She understood Marilyn was nervous, Georges was there monitoring her, and the doctor was watching over her dad. The instructions were clear and she was ready.


    "What if I get stuck?"


    ¡°Dear, I promise, if you want out, you will return. That much I can promise. Wait, ¡°said the computer before Sophie closed her eyes.


    "What now?"


    ¡°Laurent''s waves are fluctuating, incoherently. Weak.¡±


    Georges went to a keyboard and started typing hysterically. He wanted to know what she meant.


    "I don''t care," said the girl. "I am going in."


    "This makes no sense," said Georges out loud.


    ¡°I know,¡± replied Marilyn to her father.


    "What do you think it is?"


    ¡°Attraction. Nothing else makes sense.¡± The computer was already acting as if she was gone.


    "What the hell does that mean?" said the large programmer.


    ¡°We must let Sophie act. No matter what dangers she encounters. The rule is simple. We must not get in her way. The Sixth Attraction has begun.¡±


    "Guys, I''m still here," said Sophie from her tube. "I''m ready."


    ¡°Proceed please.¡±


    Georges pushed a key. Sophie instantly lost consciousness, but her eyes remained open.


    "Milly make yourself useful. Close the girl''s eyes." Georges was not the best communicator. "This part always freaks me out. Marilyn doesn''t care," he added as she shot a dark look his way.


    ¡°When will she be back?¡±


    Marilyn said, ¡°This should be rather quick. Her father¡¯s mind moves quickly in time, free of our human world. If he was a movie, he would constantly be on fast forward. He unfolds, that¡¯s the term for it, about one hundred times faster than we do. If Sophie spends two hours in his head, that¡¯s only two minutes here. I think she should be back soon.


    Began a long silence as a clock unrolled on one of the screens.


    ¡°Marilyn,¡± said kindly the doctor eyes locked on her forearm display. ¡°Those Rho waves are gone for her, zero but Laurent¡¯s remain the same.¡±


    ¡°I see that.¡±


    ¡°What does it mean?¡±


    ¡°Sadly she has not gone into his mind, she left our world.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± asked Georges as Milly filled every detail of the discussion.


    ¡°Yes,¡± clarified the computer, ¡°she left our reality for other worlds of the Multiverse.¡±


    ¡°Do we know where she is?¡±


    ¡°I can measure the unfolding of her normal mind, she has not been sped up as expected, she has been slowed, very slowed. I fear if she spends hours in that other place, she may be gone for days.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you guess where she is?¡± asked the creator of the computer.


    ¡°I fear she went to the world from which I took that Dot.¡± No one understood what that meant.


    ¡°Now what do we do?¡± finally asked the Journalist.


    The computer¡¯s answer amused, ¡°We just wait, prepare the game and get Daddy ready for his interview on CNN. If you don¡¯t mind, I must turn my attention to improbable and illogical events ready to cascade.¡±


    ¡°In these other worlds?¡± asked the journalist.


    ¡°Nope, nothing that complex. On earth, it starts now in Europe.¡±

 Chapter 47: Old Takeda

    Austria, Earth


    It was drizzling on the old retirement home in the outskirts of Vienna. For decades, this place was a luxurious private twenty-bed mansion. Now, it was nothing more than a sad doorstep to death. Careless management and a refusal to invest in the structure had reduced this beautiful building to nothing more than a mausoleum where the forgotten came to die. The Mountain Ridge Residence was where the ingrate children of the rich parked their senile parents as they plundered their estates.


    Takeda, the resident of room 20C, was the patriarch of this sad place. This old man had trampled the lives of many over the course of his life. He''d made sure he loved no one. In fairness, no one ever loved him back. If Takeda were conscious, he''d find his impending end fitting. He would be the first to send himself to die in this shit-hole. To Takeda, a virologist, humans were nothing more than an apex predator.


    He was the only human worthy of having his photo on the nightstand of the most dangerous man on earth.


    The road of the Sixth Attraction sadly travelled to the horrors of this place.


    The Vienna night air was damp and cold; this was the type of night when rooms at the Ridge were vacated by dead bodies. Tonight, if destiny was given a chance to roam these halls, Room 20C would need a new resident. The faint beep of Takeda''s heart monitor was the only sound in his dark room. Takeda''s only heir, his son, made sure the old monster was neglected or even mistreated by the staff.


    The hallway to his room needed paint. Around the thin bed laid shabby furniture that had known far better days. The curtains covered an open window, allowing a cold wind to continually caress the immobile body pushing it to hell. The dying man''s heart rate was no more than a whisper. At the age of 104, nothing in this room could be cause for concern. Takeda was in a deep coma from which he would never awaken.


    A lonely wooden chair awaited in the corner of his. Its placement was odd, as if it was reserved for death herself. Given the monstrosities Takeda had perpetuated in his life, Mountain Ridge Residence remained an impressive improvement over the deepest pits of Hell. That would be rectified soon enough. After all, Takeda held a pre-punched ticket to Satan¡¯s favorite nightclub. Just by looking at his body today, it was impossible to guess that this man was once one of most influential men in the world.


    His former power was irrelevant; Takeda was now rotting.


    Outside the Ridge, five dark cars were driving up the winding road. No one was there to notice, but the first and last two cars were security escorts for the reinforced middle stretch limo. In it, arrived human evil.


    "Remi," murmured the old man sitting in the back of limo, "get on the phone the head of that shitty place. A private, secured line." The driver pushed a button and connected his passenger. The conversation would play on the speakers as this man cared little about bothering others. The man''s skin was white and his eyes sunken in deep blackened sockets.


    "Yes?" answered the voice. It spoke English with a strong German accent.


    "This is the new owner. Is everything ready for 20C? We are minutes away."


    "Yes, Mr..." The man''s voice on the other end became tense. He had almost said the name he was instructed never to disclose.


    The old man in the back of the car, looked up. His limo driver held two fingers in the air. "Two minutes," he said to the man in the Ridge. ¡°Don¡¯t fuck this up.¡±


    "We did not expect you so soon. I will initiate the evacuation. Give us ten minutes. The instruments you requested are in the room under the chair."


    The limo driver lifted a hand with five spread fingers. This indicated to his valuable passenger that, at best, he could slow down and be there in five minutes. The pale man continued, "You have three minutes until we arrive. Once we are on-site, no one, including yourself, will be permitted to leave if still there. Understood?" Nick hung up. The question had been rhetorical. Nick was neither a kind or tolerant man. He made the comatose Takeda, locked in Room 20C, appear warm and caring by comparison. Takeda was, the only one he considered a friend and he was looking forward to what would come next.


    The rain continued to fall amidst a light fog.


    Tadeka had once been an amazing man. As a student, his dorm room was covered with plaques and awards. He was brilliant and gifted, certainly, but he lacked compassion or humility. At thirty, fresh off his post-doctorate, he was an established biochemist and a virologist. His fuzzy ethical boundaries got him noticed by important scummy investors. He quickly climbed the ladders of a secret branch within the Hitabi Corporation.


    At fifty, after creating the worst virus humankind could conceive, he became a powerful CEO on the board of multiple Keiretsu. Tadeka''s life was not perfect, but it had been full. His first wife remarried, his second wife was long dead. His only son hated him for killing her. The bastard was right, he had killed her. The perfect murder was rather easy to commit for someone with above-average intelligence.


    Tadeka had many secrets. He was the only human still alive who knew everything about the awful viruses he had created. With the exception of one of these weapons, none of them, to his knowledge, had ever been used.If he was still capable of thought, he wouldn''t care. Blame was for others. In exchange for his service, for the viruses, influential friends had retired him to a management role where he had finished his long life in wealth. Takeda was already dead inside, and his body was simply catching up.


    On the road, several cars quickly left the Ridge via the winding gravel road. They passed the convoy on their way out as they arrived at the rotting manor.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Inside, the elevator of the Ridge dinged, but Takeda could not hear it. Men walked out from it in a paramilitary formation. They were part of a heavy security detail. In the middle of the group walked the man from the limo. The signs were clear, the man was infected with the Meta virus, the powerful bug once created by Takeda. He was one of the infected, yet the man would disagree on the choice of word. Nick felt he was blessed by the virus. Few would share his views.


    Nick, known as the Ghost was walking slowly with the help of a long black cane. The man took his time; no one ever rushed him. Today would be no exception. The security guards opened the door to room 20C. They increased the light in the room and surveyed the memorabilia. The man in the bed was a sad copy of his former self. The husk was now a hundred pounds below a comfortable weight. If Nick cared, the scene would sadden him, but the CEO smiled as he entered the room. He confirmed, this was his former employee: the great and forgotten Takeda. He touched his hand.


    The pale ghost nodded to his team and pointed his cane at the packages under the chair and bed. A doctor wearing a white coat entered the room holding a silver suitcase. The nervous practitioner clicked the latches open and pulled out from it what appeared to be very expensive equipment. The doctor pulled two long cables and connected a first small electrode to the base of the skull of the comatose body, and a second electrode he placed on the armrest of the chair in the room.


    "Sir, we are ready for the link. Be very careful. The dreams of this man may be..." He looked at the old ghost and stopped talking. Nick simply did not care. The ghost sat, placed his cane carefully against the wall and connected the second electrode on his own neck. Nick closed his eyes and fell into the dream of the comatose man under the watchful eye of the Doctor.


    Takeda''s blood was filled with pain medication, and his mind was fogged by the drugs, his age and his deterioration. Once in this old brain, the ghost felt like he was floating in water or in some thick gas. "Takeda, my friend, are you in this somewhere?" said the ghost in the dying man''s mind.


    There was silence. No image. No friend. "What, who?" finally said a distant voice. It was irritated.


    "You are in a coma, my friend, at death''s door."


    "Who the fuck is this?"


    "Nick." There was a chuckle.


    "Will you haunt me to no end? Leave me alone." Takeda waited to see what the Meta would say. He said nothing. "Why are you here?"


    "We need you. We have one last task for you."


    The words coming from anyone else would have sounded ridiculous, but not from this inhuman bastard. Takeda was in no condition to humor the man. "I am dying. What the fuck do you want?" The conversation wasn''t sophisticated, it was the best the dying man could muster.


    "We need to know if you still have the will to live." The question was difficult to answer.


    "No. Leave me alone."


    "Is there nothing you want?"


    "Go fuck yourself," said Takeda.


    "We can offer you our eternity."


    "Not as one like you. Have you seen yourself? You look like vampire from a cheap movie."


    Nick laughed. "We know, we know. We never understood that about you." The debate was too philosophical for the dying man. "We kept our end of our bargain, and you kept yours. Our secret dies with you today. There is no one on Earth our organization trusts more. We now need your help again." That was a start. "Takeda, what we need from you is..." There was a pause, and then finally both voices spoke at the same time. The first said "worst" the other "evil." Both were right.


    "My body is dying," said Takeda.


    "We can fix that. I brought a cocktail to regenerate your body."


    "There is one thing I want."


    "There is?"


    "Yes."


    "What is this?"


    "A boon, a boon from your mafia of old fucking bats."


    Nick''s laughter resonated in the mind. Nick did not recall the last time he laughed so hard. He loved Takeda. The Visconti, the council of the Meta was clear, it could grant no boons. The practice was forbidden, and against the charter of the group. The medieval version of the Visconti, the original secret society, was destroyed because of a boon it granted to the Templars. A boon was a vow of obedience; a favor that could not be refused. The Templars had asked the Visconti to take part in the last crusade.


    Finally Nick replied, "Let me ask. If you end up in hell, the council has refused your demand."


    In the blink of an eye, Nick was back in the room next to the dying carcass. The Meta removed his electrode and returned to the sad reality of the retirement home. Outside, it was still raining. Nick looked at his Rolex. He had been in this man''s mind for nearly two hours, but it had seemed to him like only minutes. He gestured for everyone to leave the room except the doctor who was tending to his patient.


    "He is weakening," said the doctor. "We have, if any, little time."


    Nick picked up a small hand-held cell phone, a relic from an earlier generation phone from a different era. He pushed a button and the thing dialed automatically. There were advantages to owning the corporation making these devices.


    "Speak," said a slow whisper of a voice. "The Visconti council is assembled and hears you. Has he accepted?"


    Nick Schmidbauer, the Chairman of that group, answered. "Takeda never asked what we need of him. He knows it must involve some form of genocide; it always does. He agreed but at one condition." The ghost knew the others would immediately refuse, "The only payment he will accept is a boon from the council itself." As expected, there was an outcry on the line. But all the members, like himself were individuals infected by the Meta virus and incapable of speaking loudly. "There is little time."


    "Can he even do what we need of him?" asked one ghost on the line. The question was mostly rhetoric.


    "If he fails, we owe him no boon." replied Nick. "He is the only human with any chance of success. We have little time. You are the ones who trusted that other idiot, not me."


    The situation was obviously complex. "The council cannot grant a boon. It is against our rules," said a woman in a slow voice.


    Nick was quick with his reply, "The council can do as it pleases in this matter, but the vote must be unanimous. I think Takeda is the only human who deserve this honor irrespective to this new request. We owe him."


    "We owe no one! How does he know about the boon?" queried a different voice from the Council.


    "Good question," answered Nick. "For the moment, I do not know. There is no negotiation. He is on the edge of death and has accepted it. He does not know, but what we ask of him is beyond value, we all know it. No human alive can or would be willing to do it. The boon if given will be in the Ark." Several people on the line agreed. "We never expected the cost to be free. Our father would not have made a mediocre request.A boon is actually a reasonable payment under these circumstances."


    "Agreed."


    "Agreed."


    "Agreed."


    "Anyone opposes?" asked Nick.


    "Me," said a voice. "We must impose a limitation. We cannot give a blank check to this man. We have other options."


    "May I remind to this Council, and to you personally, Tim, who Takeda is. He is the Council''s only ally. He held our secret unto death. He was under no obligation to do so."


    There was silence.


    "Sir, I am losing the pulse," said the doctor in the room. The Visconti members heard him.


    "Takeda is slipping away. We must proceed now. My contact with him was stressful on this frail body. Do we have unanimity?"


    After a long silence, a different voice talked. "The Council agrees. The boon will be his once and if he succeeds. Assuming we use his solution. Please proceed with the regeneration. I want to see him suffer."


    "So do I."

 Chapter 48: Regeneration

    With the twist of his right wrist, Nick snapped-closed his flip phone. He was as cool as a cowboy snapping open an old Zippo lighter. Nick was old but still fashion-forward. His vast income allowed him to collect antiques, more specifically, old electronic equipment.


    Tonight would be exciting. The smell of torture was in the air. A boon, he reminded himself. The damn Takeda finally held his revenge. He was proud of the old bugger. He could only imagine how Takeda would get even with the Visconti with that boon, but this was neither the time or the place to ponder it. Besides, some very rare fun as at hand.


    Nick looked at the doctor ready to earn his exorbitant salary. The patient''s pulse was a murmur; blood pressure was nonexistent, and what came next was unlikely to work. The dangerous procedure had never successfully worked on a healthy patient. This corpse would probably collapse long before the procedure was over. The doctor had warned the Chairman of this time and again. Nick did not share his pessimism. If anything, Takeda was a world-class bastard. He''d survive just for spite, if nothing else.


    The doctor shook his head in disbelief as to what he would do next. He could not believe he''d agreed. If one medical practitioner had any chance of making this work, it was this man. The doctor had been working for the old ghost for decades for a good reason: he was the rare person not shy to surf beyond ethical or moral lines. Crazy and reckless was precisely what he loved to do, but he was stepping out of his own comfort zone. Making the impossible happen at the cutting edge of illegal medical advancement was his own thing; this was lab torture of an animal too weak to react.


    "Go ahead, inoculate him. Make sure he suffers," added the Chairman with a small smile. No answer was necessary. Pain was the central component of this process. The doctor was as ready as he ever would be. During the mind meld, he had prepared his patient. Takeda''s frail husk was already hooked up to several small devices. The wires and probes were taped to different parts of his body. His vital signs were weak, but the body was alive. The doctor was kneeling, and was holding a long empty syringe in his mouth. He needed both arms to do what came next. He had laid several suitcases around the bed, and on the bedside table were several screens lit with activity. The procedure required extensive monitoring.


    With his left hand, the doctor grabbed a little box. He held it up in Nick''s direction. There was a black area on the box, one of those fingerprint scanners. Nick licked his thumb and placed it on the reader; it hissed open as air entered the box. Inside was a deep red glass capsule filled with some synthetic fluid. This was not blood; it looked like it belonged in a robot, not a human.


    "We have seconds until it goes cold," said the doctor. He was moving with the speed of a junky needing to shoot himself. He clicked open the syringe, and clipped in it the red vial. The doctor clearly needed help, and looked like a field medic trying to stop bleeding of a patient riddled with holes. Nick refused to help. The doctor placed the needle on the neck of the patient and paused.


    "Do it!" rasped the ghost. The doctor needed no more encouragement. With a gentle push, he injected Tadeka with the contents of the vial. "How much time?" said the ghost resting in the corner chair.


    "We should see changes around the entry point almost immediately. This virus replicates extremely quickly even in a body this weak. It moves through cell walls, not blood. Don''t touch him." There was a smell of alcohol in the air.


    The patient was on an intravenous drip. The doctor reached up, pushed the plastic clip down and increased the flow of plasma to the maximum. There was little time. The man was preparing for medical Armageddon.


    "Put these gloves on. Hold him!" said the doctor to Nick. As the doctor gave the order, he realized the Meta would never lift a finger to help. A mere two feet from the bed, Nick was savoring every instant and grinning ear to ear.


    The doctor snapped open the lid of a large case. It was filled with plasma bags. He reached into the case and unfolded two bag supports. He set them up where he could, often bumping into Nick. He hooked up the two bags on the arms of his patient. This body was not going to enjoy these next minutes, and it would need all the nutrients it could get. The pulse remained, for the moment, very faint.


    The doctor placed sunglasses on the patient''s face and ripped open his robe. Inside the case were two ultraviolet lamps. He clipped both of them to the stands and turned them toward the old white skin of his patient. Takeda somehow needed the rays. On his neck, at the point of the injection, the skin was slowly crackling. On a cellular level, his DNA was being twisted back in shape.


    Nick smiled. He loved virology.


    The doctor opened a third suitcase. It was filled with little sugar sports packets used by athletes to fuel up during a race. There were in it also candy bars and plastic bottles of energy drinks. The doctor started laying these down on the floor.


    "Sir, you should go, the next minutes will not be easy for him," the doctor warned. "He may get violent. One of these guards outside the door would be helpful."


    "Grab them if you want. But on one but us walks out alive and having witnessed this and having seen this. As for the pain, that is precisely why I should stay."


    The doctor knew Nick was not joking. There would be no assistant. "This is not for the faint of heart. This will get very bloody and smelly."


    "You have any popcorn?" The ghost was smiling from ear to ear.


    Takeda''s body was being infected by small foreign agents. At first, the changes were invisible. The doctor seemed very nervous as he monitored Takeda''s vitals. The doctor kept replenishing the plastic bags tubes into his veins.


    "Doctor, as this delicious abhorrent spectacle unfolds, can you narrate what is going for our friends of the Council." This would be an added annoyance, but not unexpected the doctor told himself.


    The doctor unzipped pouches, unfolded tissues and began the narration, "Well, from a scientific perspective, this is highly fascinating. We infected him with four foreign agents, three of which I know about and a fourth you gave me less than an hour ago. No animal, or insect has ever survived a general cellular regeneration process this complete. Aside from very small multi-cell living creatures, animals and humans alike die each time we try. I hope your mysterious agent cures these defects."


    "Trust me, I did not get to where I am by failing at what I do. For the record, my own mixture was made of three agents, so we are really giving him six different components. But who is counting at this point? Surely not him." Nick issued a ghastly chuckle.


    "Fine." The old body on the bed began slowly to convulse. "The first agent to act is normally what we call P-Pee-Sc21. It is a prion in the Scarpie form. We added a twist to it."


    "A protein," finished Nick. "The beauty of life is fascinating." There was nothing beautiful about what was going on. This was no place to correct the doctor.


    The medical expert continued, "By using a prion, we can migrate the agent directly between the cell walls without risk of exo-contamination. As you may know, prions will first attack the nervous system. In this phase, the patient''s nerves and brain have been jolted by a folded protein we attached with dominant RNA in an amyloid form." He looked back to see if the Chairman was keeping up with the explanations. He was.


    The doctor knew he was getting a bit technical, but Nick loved every moment of it. The body jerked several times, and Takeda yelled as if he were being tortured. The poor treating physician received no help in trying to hold his patient down and prevent him from knocking down one of the bags of plasma.


    "At this point, this should feel like a mixture of very bad case of meningitis and being dropped alive in boiling water.¡± He hesitated. ¡°Much worse, actually, full body burns is closer to it."


    "I have always found biology to be much more interesting than technology." Nick said, looking at the room''s security camera to confirm it was closed. "Continue."


    "A portion of RNA was injected to force cells to generate proteins of our design before it will move and alter the DNA segments. As you know, to modify DNA, we need to promote cell regeneration. During cell splitting, the DNA opens. If the cells cannot find sufficient nutrients, they will literally digest themselves. Am I being too technical?"


    Takeda''s muscles were now convulsing. He shook like a zombie.


    "Doctor, you may not know this, but I hold several doctorates including one in molecular chemistry. I also have a genetic biology Nobel. Your explanations cannot get too technical for me. Stop dumbing this down." Nick, intrigued by the phenomenon, was staring intently at Takeda''s convulsing body. "Are we clear?"


    ¡°Yes sir.¡± The physician was taken aback by this. He knew every Nobel and this monster wasn¡¯t on the list. The doctor glanced at the monster. "After the initial flare-up, the body will collapse into shock, despite the nutrients I have been pumping into it." As if on cue, the convulsions subsided. "At this second stage, the prion we injected in the cocktail includes a protein that will stimulate the production of undirected stem cells. These exist in faint numbers on the outside surface of each bone, on the heart valves, and between the spine and the nervous system. This old body has, at best, a dozen cells left so we injected some cells. The new cells also need nutrients, and their formation will digest parts of muscles and bones, releasing lactic acid as a by-product. Each time we reach far into lactic acidosis..." He looked back at his boss. The man understood what lactic acidosis was.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    "Don''t you have a wonderful analogy for me, doctor?" said the old ghost. "Acidosis has to hurt."


    "Well, normal to high levels of lactic acid in the blood are 0.5 milimol per liter. A great cyclist can reach numbers as high as 3.0 as he finishes a category 1 climb in the Alps." The doctor looked at one of the instruments. "We have measured ultra-marathoners at the finish of a race at 5.0, but in each cases, they have spent years training their metabolisms to resist this acid buildup. The patient is now at a level of 9.3. The acid is collecting in every tissue, between every cell. For him, moving a pinky will feel like needles are being inserted between each finger. Moving is torture, yet he moves."


    Nick grabbed his cane, pushed himself up, and moved closer to the bed, avoiding the patient. He reached over and pushed the tip of his cane into Takeda''s chest. The patient yelled and the mere reaction to the pain doubled the pain. "What a wonderful procedure," Nick was enjoying himself. "So technically, the body is destroying itself as it regenerates."


    "Correct. At his age, cells rarely split and we can only regenerate this code as it splits. Normally the process would take years."


    "Yet, somehow our boy¡¯s remains alive and is not dying." He poked the body again with the expected result. ¡°What would happen if those stem cells were from a different person?¡± Before the doctor could think about the answer, Nick just told him, ¡°Please continue the narration.¡±


    "The body is an amazing piece of machinery. In addition to the prion, we have injected him with a virus that snaps open the DNA loop and reconnects it at the beginning, that''s where it was located a century ago when he was born." Nick knew the body had a cell aging system. He was too well familiar with the notion that with each reproduction of the DNA, the code loop closed upon itself one link at a time, until one day cells were unable to reproduce. The largest part of age manipulation was linked with this suit. "For the change to take place and the link to attach itself, each cell must go through a splitting cycle. We kick-start the regeneration by boosting the immune system forcing it into splitting. The bags are filled with plasma and white neutral cells. The body will use those, at first." The doctor looked at the heart rate monitor. "We do need the flow of blood to be stronger. I have never attempted this on a body this old."


    "Increase the rate manually," suggested Nick.


    The doctor was taken aback by the suggestion, but the old ghost was right. The doctor immediately got on top of the body and started a cardiac massage. "He will not like this."


    "One of life''s little pleasures." Nick sat back down and lit up a cigarette from a pack. The comment was distasteful at best to anyone but him.


    The man was crushing the thoracic cage with his heavy hands. "The syringe also included a virus; that one I am unaware of its effects on the human body. It looked rather dangerous."


    "Well doctor, to our friends watching this man," he pointed at Takeda, "is the father of an early variation strain of virus. He alone is to blame or thank for its existence but it¡¯s power over death has no equal."


    "We need a miracle about now." The doctor was giving his patient a milder version of CPR. He did not hit hard enough for the heart to stop. He kept at it for several minutes until Takeda''s heart rate improved to 50 beats per minute. Then the doctor got up. The nano-infection at Takeda''s neck was spreading. The body began to shiver, the dark lines were spreading. His fingers and lips were quickly drying up.


    "This next part will not be pretty. Are you really sure you want to stick around?" The question was rhetorical. "Every cell will have to split in the next minutes. The body will now try to reject about forty pounds of dead cells any way it can. The new cells will need nutrients. Normal evacuation systems will kick in, but will not suffice. There will be puss and smell. The dead cells will collect in pockets. He will shit and piss himself out; in theory that is. This is where we lose all our patients because of internal pressure. They literally implode and explode from puss buildup. This looks a like a yellow Ebola."


    Nick made a sign of him eating from an invisible tub of popcorn. The doctor was in a room with pure madness. He pulled out several large syringes from his bag. They were veterinary equipment. He also pulled out a hand scanner. The doctor grabbed two large scalpels and handed one to Nick. "I assumed you will want to help with this gory portion, it involves cutting him open. You need to cut the skin open to let pockets of puss empty as I cannot drain them with the syringes. I will point them out with this scanner. Bumps will appear. I will try to remove the puss building under the muscles."


    Nick stood up and grabbed the knife. The doctor was right, cutting Takeda open would be a pleasure. "Do I cut the muscles?"


    "Yes but not connective tissues."


    What happened next with sickening. The doctor kept passing the scanner over the body, looking for large pockets of puss to appear within the body. "We don''t want the puss to block organs or blood flow. Let''s hope the brain regeneration is not too fast, that would kill him under the pressure. I have no drill."


    "These cells should not really regenerate," said Nick mostly to himself. The doctor smiled. Nick was again right. The ghost was a wonderful bedside attendant as long as you disrespected a patient.


    "The connecting tissue within the cranial box should regenerate, there is almost half a pound of that. Those will have to go if they can''t flow out naturally through the nose and eye sockets," he offered. Nick was excited. The doctor continued the work for ten minutes. The sight was not for anyone with a weak stomach. Takeda''s body looked like it was literally decomposing. Every organ, his nose, his eyes were bleeding black and yellow blood. His skin was peeling in large patches. The doctor shoved long needles into the body and sucked out smelly yellow fluid. Nick really did not need to help; the dry skin cracked by itself allowing the fluids to ooze out along with blood. He just watched the show with a smile.


    Soon the bed sheets were stained by red and yellow liquid, the smell in the room was putrid. The doctor was trying desperately to avoid getting in contact with the blood, he quickly gave up that effort. At some point, the stench became overwhelming, despite the open window.


    Outside, the weather was getting worse. In the distance, lightening was flashing furiously, as if nature itself was objecting to what was going on in this room. The doctor quickly ran out of bags of fresh blood. For a moment, he hesitated about drawing his own, but Nick made a small nod telling him to wait. On cue, the patient''s heartbeat slowly began to improve. Blood pressure was also rapidly improving. Below a layer of dead skin, new reddish skin was growing. Red hues returned on the man''s face. This was a miracle.


    The next stage was one of healing. The zombie-like creature in the bed opened its eyes. The pain must have been incredible, but the body was animated by a stronger force: hunger. The doctor was ready. He held to Takeda several sport bottle; luckily they had a spout. Takeda drank from decomposed lips, and as his putrid hands squeezed a bottle, the pain made him drop it. The hunger was too strong. Then he grabbed it again, ignoring the pain, and drank another bottle, then a third. Rapidly, the wounds were healing. By the time solid food was presented to him, the skin on his hands had reformed. Dead patches of skin were falling from his body. The creature ate the entire content of the suitcase.


    "Very funny..." said Nick. "He keeps calling me a vampire; now I get to use the word zombie." The ghost spoke loudly to his former employee. "Takeda, do you crave brains?" Nick alone chuckled. The man''s ears were filled with blood, it was clear he could not hear. The doctor was now covered in blood, sweat, and puss.


    The doctor was under a lot of stress and snapped at his insensitive employer. "Shut up a moment, he can hear you." Nick decided to ignore the comment. Under the circumstances, his medical expert was holding quite well. Nick had no respect for the academics distant from their fields. The doctor was, literally knee deep in it.


    "Sir," he began as way of an apology, "the patient''s higher brain functions should return at any time." The doctor had easily removed forty large syringes of dead cells.Tadeka slipped back into reality, and opened his eyes. As a diver surfacing after minutes without air, the century-old body grasped for a deep breath. The patient made multiple sounds as he quickly awakened from long slumber. He was coughing out his old lungs.


    "Need... food," These were the first waking words of Takeda.


    "Don''t eat me," joked Nick. Both men in the room smiled back at Takeda, each for a different reason. Takeda''s mind began to strategize. His memory began to connect the dots as to what had just happened. His facial expression stiffened.


    Finally it spoke, "I forgot to ask what you needed me for. I just signed away my soul, didn''t I?"


    Nick''s smile, if that was possible, widened. No answer was necessary. The metaphor was perfectly chosen.


    Takeda looked at his hands. They were hurting and covered with dead cells. He was also a renowned virologist; he knew cellular-level regeneration when he saw it. The skin on the back of his hands was gaining tint and tensing up. His hunger could wait.


    "This is incredible! I did not know in-body cell regeneration was possible," said the patient to the two men looking at his discussing hands.


    "It is not, " confirmed Nick. ¡°We got better while you slept.¡±


    "You are the first," confirmed the doctor. ¡°The Chairman does not realize how improbable all this is. Sir, you should be dead, not be able to talk minutes after such a massive shock to your system.¡± Takeda felt only pain and hunger. He slowly bent upwards in the bed. Nick could hear the cracking sounds of the joints. Takeda placed a foot on the floor, then a second. He looked at himself in a mirror. Every inch of his body was a raw nerve, the pain was beyond human understanding. He drove himself to function.


    "I just got up, yet I have been in that bed for almost a decade. That is impossible. My muscles also are regenerated."


    "I did not remember you to be such a ballerina," said Nick. "You need a shower," he said as he pointed at the bathroom. Nick got up, walked to the shower faucet and turned the water on. "Cold water seems more appropriate." Takeda''s shower was sure to clog any drain. From the room, Nick said loudly, "You have five minutes to clean yourself up before I blow this place up."


    Takeda looked at the doctor."I even kept the follicles. Where is the morphine?"


    The two men were packing up some of the equipment. "The pain should not be blocked yet. It directs the formation of new white blood cells in your body, and helps with the rest of the regeneration."


    "I don''t care," Takeda said.


    "Sir, you do. Trust me. You will now start regenerating some bone cells. Drink this." The doctor slid his hand past the curtain. He gave Takeda two large white plastic pouches. "You need calcium and fat. There is nothing better than good old fashioned milk for you right now."


    In his mouth, teeth were also regenerating, and some fillings were being forced out by the pressure of growing calcium. The pain, when compared with the other areas of his body was tolerable. He spat several fillings. Then there was the headaches. Nick did not recall having had this much fun in recent memory. Takeda collapsed several times to the ground, but each time managed to get up.


    "What a fucking drama queen!" said the old man looking at the time on his watch. The convulsions lasted some time. Takeda''s fantastic brain needed a diversion. Nick held a mirror in Takeda''s sweaty face.


    "Look!"


    Takeda wiped his face, took a deep breath and looked at himself. What he saw would have been impossible to believe without going through this entire experience. This was someone else''s face.


    "Who is this?" His Asian features were gone, instead were the features of a Latino.


    "A gift. Wash yourself. We have to go."


    Takeda was frail. He needed food, water, and a month of sleep.


    Nick threw a pair of pants and a shirt on the floor.


    "What are the side effects?" mumbled Takeda from the shower.


    "A boon. You fucker. And you want collaboration from us? Five minutes. For the moment you are mine. You forgot who I am."

 Chapter 49: The Mission

    Nick knocked on the closed door. He tapped exactly three times. The security guard opened; the code was the right one. Two other brought in a dead body and placed it onto the smelly bed. The men noticeably held back their reaction to the stench and the puss covering the floor. The body was of Takeda''s stature and age. The decoy was a sad thing to see. Before the doctor or his patient could react, the men dropped the body in the bed as if it were a bag of dirt.


    ¡°Who is this?¡±


    ¡°You now have his face and his younger body. You think I would regenerate your old ass? We needed a person your age and build where we still had some of his cells at twenty. The source had to be young.¡±


    ¡°You changed my DNA?¡±


    ¡°Big words. Your brain and nervous systems is still hounds. It¡¯s fantastic how we can program stem cells.¡±


    "I," ventured Takeda.


    "Shut up," snapped Nick on the way out. "Wait until we''re in the car." Nick handed Takeda a black sweater with a hoodie. ¡°Cover your new face for the cameras. The bitch must be watching.¡± On the way out of the building, the group walked in a tight formation. As they entered the parking lot, Takeda thought he heard some crackling sounds and smelled gas. The sprinkler system and the fire alarms of the Ridge were not working. Takeda was pushed into the limo in the back of the parking lot.


    While Takeda''s mind should have been busy with the situation at hand, he could not brush-off a feeling of joy. It was caused by the drops of rain on his new skin, and the wind in his hair. He looked behind to throw a look at the building in which he had spent the last decade. It blew up in a comically massive explosion set for movies. There was no stopping the blaze. The parking was empty except for them. The blast blew him to his knees. Then, the structure, if possible blew up sky high as if the basement was filled with plastic explosives. Every piece of wood went a hundred feet in the air.


    Nick clapped his hands in excitement. "I told that moron it could work. What an idiot," he grumbled. Nick looked at Takeda, "What? It''s mine, I can burn the shit out of it if I want." The ghost was back to his normal grumpy and rude self. Nick often anticipated questions. The old man handed him a bag. "Gerry, your orders are in the bag on the front seat of you limo." He pointed at the Sixth car in the procession. It was the smallest car money could buy.


    "Gerry?"


    "That''s your new identity. You will enjoy the character. Look in the wallet when you have a chance." Takeda was in no mood to joke.


    "Back there you hinted there would be side effects. Did you give me the META virus?"


    The guard sitting in the front seat turned around and handed Takeda keys. He pointed at a small yellow car in the back.


    "Yeah, side effects. A fucking boon, I love you!" he repeated. "There is no turning back now. Next time I see you, we will be stuck together for a long time." Nick closed the limo door and rolled down his window. "Instructions in the bag. Good luck. Don''t fuck this up. Glad to have you back old friend."


    He then added, ¡°By the way the Electronic bitch is onto us.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Nick laughed as he realized the man had been in a coma.


    ¡°Big brother, Orwell¡¯s big fucking brother. It goes by the sweet name of Marilyn Monroe.¡±


    Takeda was barefoot, in a cold parking lot holding a pair of keys to a cheap car. In the backpack were his marching orders. He was in the body of a young adult, and felt like he had just lost a boxing match.


    The limo delegation left with its precious escort. Nick never acted directly; he always used layers upon layers of intermediaries. Seeing him today was somewhat of an honor. It was evidence the mission was critical.


    It was almost morning, and the sun was ready to rise above the trees in the distance. The storm had passed, but the sky was still a dark. It was an ominous half-light. Takeda did not know precisely where he was, or even what year it was. He fell into the coma on his 91st birthday, back in 2059. Below his feet was wet cold asphalt. The cold felt great on his body. He was so hungry, and for some strange reason, he was horny as well. He attributed the feeling to the complete shock felt by his body. A cocktail of hormones was rushing through his veins. He knew his bones were still strengthening. He observed his hands.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    There was no greater excitement to a virologist than to feel, first hand, deep within his own body, the effects of some new biology altering organs and tissue. Biologists spent their careers asking others to describe diseases or feelings they themselves would never feel. His body had just been regenerated by decades in a matter of a night. Closely upon that thought, he wondered at just how high the cost of this miracle would be.


    The parking lot was empty, which was strange for any health care facility. Then, hundreds of yards behind him, what remained from the structure, mostly the basement,blew sky-high. A column of smoke rose. Not a single stone stayed in place. The force blew him to his knees. Bricks and stones rained down around him for a minute. One even landed on the roof of his car, bounced and cracked part of his new windshield.


    In the air, the virologist smelled a trace of sulfur. This was beyond a doubt some residual bonding agent of the explosives. Takeda knew sulfur oxides and dioxide radicals were produced when high energy blasts occurred. The sense of smell of his young body was fantastic.


    He needed to leave this open space before someone arrived. The car key worked; he started it and took off. On the keychain was an indication the car was a rental from France. He probably was still in Austria. The license plate and the window sticker on the car were also from France. Knowing the old ghost, this was no coincidence.


    Below the steering wheel were three pedals. Takeda was frustrated; he always had trouble driving a manual transmission. The car stalled twice, but Takeda managed to drive it out of the parking lot just as firemen began to arrive on the scene. In 2072, exploding buildings were not routine occurrences, and fires were also extremely rare. The fire truck was followed closely by journalists, police and other responders.


    As Takeda drove in a random direction on the small country road, his body was slowly sending him signals. He felt warm, then cold as his thermoregulation system adjusted to the new skin. He was hungry, then tired, and the next moment he needed to puke.


    There was one thing he needed more than anything: sex. This new body had a healthy production of hormones. They played on his lower brain functions, and frankly, he now realized he had missed it for longer than he cared to remember. The only problem was with the type of images that came to his mind. He tried to push the images away. Once at a safe distance, he stopped the car on the side of the road, and inspected the bag.


    There was a wallet. He looked inside. He was now Gerry Garcia, a U.S. citizen living in Paris, France. He was a lab technician. The detail and attention that went into creating the identity were spectacular. The wallet included a picture of him in this young body next to a second man. It was a wedding picture. There was even a condom and several membership cards to gay bathhouses. No surprise Nick was proud of the identity. Nick had, in the past, criticized Takeda over his personal weaknesses. He''d been a womanizer, in particular. Something had changed, though. He knew he liked the other sex now. He felt as much deep within himself. There was no time to worry about the sexual orientation of his new body, Takeda was no homophobe, but somehow the ghost had altered his chemistry and switched his sexual drive to men. He was young, in great shape, but he felt like his body was different in several ways.


    He looked deeper into the wallet. Gerry had a security badge from a hospital on Rue Daguerre in Paris. This badge was different. He was not a lab technician, he was a security guard. Security guards did have access to strange places. They could be outside, late at night, without calling attention to themselves.


    In the back of the car were two full changes of clothes, street clothes and Gerry''s security guard outfit. He quickly changed into the street clothes. Not surprisingly, Gerry''s clothes were extremely tight. The pants were nothing more than black tights, the underwear was colorful, and the shirt was rather revealing. He could hear the ghost laugh. He felt vulnerable with so little clothing, but if he was to hide in plain sight, this was brilliant.


    Takeda drove off without reading the instructions. He stopped at the first highway restaurant, walked in, and ordered several items from the menu. As he ate, most of the pain was fading. But Takeda did not really care. He looked down, controlled his sex drive and took a couple of deep breaths, and opened the envelope. There was a single piece of paper. On it one typed paragraph:


    You have to deliver a weaponized airborne virus that kills 99.9% of the human population. It must be undetectable and show no symptoms. META virus holders must be immune. You may design an antidote. Death must be instant and painful and on command with a sound. Deliver to apt. 5, 12 Rue Lalande, Paris, France. We stocked a hideout for you and a handful of friends at 222 West Lane, Stocktown, Pennsylvania, USA. You will have 2 days after the deadline to reach this hideout. If you do not deliver by the deadline of noon, November 18, 2072, you will be killed. You may not give the antidote to anyone except yourself without approval.


    He doubted he had more than a year, therefore by deduction he was in 2072. The bastards intended to clean the world of humans, or needed some leverage against the government. His task was nothing less that global inhalation, a painful one at that. The request was a strange one. Why insist that a terminally ill person suffer? That is why they wanted him. This was impossible.


    In the meantime, he looked up. The guy he had spotted was looking at him from another table in the restaurant. The look was... flirtatious. Takeda felt the cocktail of hormones rush to his brain. He smiled back.


    His dead wife was also probably laughing. Takeda knew he had an important role to play in the upcoming events, he just had no clue what events laid ahead.

 Chapter 50: Patrick Martin

    Berlin, Germany


    "What the..." The Presidential Challenge has just ended, and President Emilio Sanchez was back to his own reality. He stood up from the lounge chair occupying the center of his large office. He was obviously troubled by his victory against a supposedly unlimited and unstoppable horde of invaders. This had been, yet again, way too easy. Crushing victories gave the false impression Marilyn and him were cheating. No one was statistically this good.


    Sanchez, the short Latino man insisted on playing each round of Electoral in solitude. He normally played with a hand interface and was one of the rare players capable of fully interfacing in the worlds, move his character while standing perfectly still in the real world. Most people had residual impulses, like sleepwalker. He was able to let his body go limp and stay confined to the mind, even during a simulation of extreme intensity. Emilio was, without a shadow of a doubt, in a league of his own.


    Moments ago, his wizard character had destroyed the entire army, laying waste to the world around him. It had felt to him like a beginner simulation. He used the stupidest of tricks and yet, somehow, no one else had come up with anything remotely similar. "Billions of players," he murmured to himself, "how can she let me win like that? Makes no sense!"


    It was late in Berlin. Kai, his assistant, entered the room. The small Taiwanese was holding a silver platter on which was a large tumbler filled with ice and cheap Scotch whiskey next to a small stack of towels.


    "This is fucking..." he said out loud. The outburst was unlike Sanchez, who abruptly halted the tirade, visibly reigning himself in. He needed to vent. His closed fist was inches from the table. Rarely did the President display so much dissatisfaction. The overweight Mexican was an eternal optimist, a kind and well-mannered man. He grimaced but kept his insults to himself.


    "Really?" The president asked rhetorically. "That''s all you got?" he said, looking into the security camera. He knew she was watching. She was always watching.


    "You won, sir. You should be happy," said Kai with his accent.


    "Not really, she gave that to me. No clue why. Maybe she wants me to look like a mass murderer. Can''t she see helping me is sending the wrong message? People won''t trust her to elect a city mayor after this crap." Emilio grabbed the tumbler, inhaled the vapors, and placed it back on the platter without drinking. The President walked to his office''s large private bathroom, removed the contact lenses he used to play the game, and slipped off the glove.


    "Your charity representatives are downstairs in ballroom one. They are ecstatic; you won them billions of credits. Floor 3." The assistant looked like a model. His complexion was perfect. Kai spent most of his income surfing the internet and buying himself fashionable clothing. His hair was short and black. His pointy sideburns accentuated his thin Asian features. The game had still been intense to the President. Emilio rinsed his sweaty face with cold water. He was already calming down.


    "I don''t get it!" he repeated.


    The President wiped his face dry and folded the towel meticulously before putting it back. It was a good sign that he was slowly regaining control. Emilio was alwaysmeticulous.


    "I know I have much more experience than everybody, but this felt like I was playing in some type of cheat mode."He bent his head down to the faucet and drank water directly from it. Once done, he grabbed the Scotch-filled tumbler from the tray and smelled deeply from it once again without drinking any of it. "This wasn''t even part of the election. She could let someone else win, it would look better. Does she want people on the street dismantling her?!"


    ¡°The same way you could have tried a little less to win?¡± Touch¨¦, thought the President. His assistant knew him too well.


    He played with the glass, swirling the ice so that it clinked in the sweet brownish fluid. President Sanchez never drank, but he kept walking around with this drink, smelling it each chance he could and giving the impression he was an alcoholic. The man never dispelled the rumor, perfection was suspicious. No one knew what made this man click. He spent hours holding and carrying a glass from one meeting to the next. Kai purchased the cheapest Scotch he could find; it all went down to the sink once the ice had melted.


    Emilio W. Sanchez was the most powerful politician on Earth. Underestimating this man was a bet many had lost. In 2072, the power of any office and government official, including heads of state, was rarely concentrated in a single individual. Everyone had oversight with one exception: Emilio owned the Internet and the money flowing through it.


    As the head of the international body regulating digital information, Sanchez had no army, and no jurisdiction over land or people. He was the regulator in charge of the Internet and information. In today''s world, that meant he was in charge of everything worth fighting about. The only portion of the Internet outside of his reach was the Marilyn software and the Electoral election platform. But that was a whole different story.


    Emilio was a controversial figure. He was like all politicians: liked or disliked. The latest polls gave him a very high popularity rating, though. Thanks to the Electoral platform, he became an overnight sensation in 2062, and never disappointed.


    Since the enactment of the Charter of the United Conference in 2054, there had been four new UN presidents. He was the first to be elected through the famous Electoral computer interface. The first three were appointed by the United Nations and, because of partisan politics, they were unable to fully assert their power. In 2062, he entered the Electoral game as a simple uneducated garage mechanic from Mexico. He was a natural at the game and easily defeated over a million candidates that year. It had become the most popular international televised event of the century.


    After three years in office, during the last year of his first term, Emilio signed up to play the improved Electoral 2068 competition. This time, instead of a million players, he faced over sixty million candidates from around the world. In what was widely considered as a statistical and logical impossibility, the President crushed the competition and was easily re-elected. Fans were thrilled, but many began to view a once perfect election system as biased. How could any man defeat so many challengers twice?


    The 2068 election final scores weren''t even close. Likewise, of the few experienced players who had the fortune to play the unique interface back in 2062, none managed to score points in Emilio''s range. It seemed like Emilio was the only one capable of navigating the interface instinctively.


    The President knew very simply why he was able to win, but he kept this valuable secret to himself. He was amused by the wild theories propagated by the media. The latest was about him being extraterrestrial, that was untrue.


    What was apparent to all was the fact that Emilio had his own unique way of playing Electoral. He never took the obvious road offered by the story. Instead, he went off on some convoluted, improvised tangent that always worked. Players who imitated him quickly were disqualified. The software always adapted to let him shine.


    Conspiracy theorists were quick to cry foul play, and in all honesty, Emilio had to agree with them. In this third 2072 election cycle, nearly half a billion people signed up for the free game. After 27 rounds, he was once again leading the field of 128, well, 127 players left. One had just died in the plane on the way to mars; he grimaced at the thought. This cycle, there was a small wrinkle. Unlike in 2068, when he was alone on top of the rankings, he now shared it with Sophie''s sympathetic quasi-dead father, a man named Laurent Lapierre. Laurent had a shot, that was good.


    The President like everyone else loved this strange father and daughter couple. Laurent was a brilliant man and his daughter was hypnotic. Losing to him would be an honor. To Emilio, Laurent''s strange death and even stranger new life was a matter of piqued interest. Laurent''s miraculous survival, and now his gift at this game meant something; he just didn''t know what.


    Electoral, the game platform, was unique in design. The election interface was run by the first and only artificial intelligence in existence. "She" was a hybrid creature imprinted at creation with a human persona. The story about her creation was still rather secret. At first, most people refused to believe a piece of software, any software, could be "alive", but these doubts were quickly dispelled the moment a person entered her gaming world. Nothing programmed could be this good. Electoral was beyond powerful, there was no doubt about it. The computer''s power was growing dangerously, and her mere existence was a threat to the human race. But there was an addictive quality to this electronic juggernaut. That was certainly intentional, Emilio mused. Like a magician distracting the audience with one hand while performing the trick with the other.


    The artificial intelligence and the election platform were both called Marilyn and Electoral interchangeably. This confused most at first. The game and the creature were so integrated that today few made a distinction. Both names was catchy and simple. Anyone over the age of 18 was eligible to enter the game as a candidate. Each week, remaining players took part in the same simulation. Based on their performance, half advanced to the next round while the other half were sent packing.


    The Electoral system was inspired by the lottery system created in 2023. In the old days, lotteries were boring. Each player purchased a ticket and picked six or so numbers. On a given night, the sale of tickets ended, and six balls were drawn live on television. For most, not a single number matched, and the non winning tickets were trash. Lottery was not much of a game. Then lottery became something when non-winning balls were removed instead of winning balls.


    The Electoral platform was designed on reverse logic. Each week, half the contestants were dropped, and after starting with hundreds of millions of players, the number of contestants was dwindle down to a final two battling live for the jobs of president and vice-president. In 2072, over a quarter of a billion contestants signed up. This year, thirty-two rounds would be needed to eliminate the field and elect a winner.


    This year, escaping elimination in the twenty-five rounds was sufficient to get a one of the jobs in the lower chamber of the Parliament and a ticket to Mars. Thanks to this interface, Emilio was more than a simple politician. Since the rounds were widely broadcasted, by winning in 2062, Emilio became an instant television star. Overnight, he was transformed from a nobody into the most recognized and influential man in the world.


    But calling Electoral a game or even an election system did not do it justice. Electoral was run by an artificial intelligence with one single mandate in mind: to select the individual most likely to lead the human race in the face of unpredictable events. Each round was carefully crafted to weed out players lacking in some specific mental capacities.


    The computer''s favorite slogan said it all:


    -- Selecting more than a leader, creating our weapon against future threats! --


    The software was right. Emilio was destined to win, but for a different reason than anyone thought. One even unknown to the creature. Emilio was a normal and simple man, with only one very unique gift. His brain was built to sort through complex situations, and he knew how to use his heart to make sound moral decisions when his brain was unwilling to help. For a couple of months now, a deep feeling of unrest was building in the President''s gut. Emilio felt like something dangerous and truly out of the ordinary was close on the horizon. He had no clue what it was, but he felt it, and he knew he was right. His senses were on a high alert.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The President asked his assistant, "Get me Monroe on the line."


    "Are you sure?"


    "I know, I know. I can¡¯t talk directly to her while the game is on. Just get her."


    "Sir, I strongly advise against it."


    "Kai, get me Marilyn on the line, this is important."


    The assistant said simply, "I will not." This was one of the reason Emilio loved his assistant. The man was never wrong and kept his emotions in check.


    "Who is President here?" Emilio said affectionately; he was not really fighting the assistant but the words had to roll out. Kai was the only person on Earth capable of bringing Emilio back to reality. The Taiwanese offered, "If the SAC agrees, then yes."


    "The SAC?" He looked at his watch. "It''s ten at night." The SAC, or the Scientific Advisory Committee, was his little guilty pleasure.


    "Sir, I figured the incidents on Mars needed to be analyzed. You did lose Mister Lapierre to Marilyn in that strange new catapult incident. I asked that they convene in case you needed them." Emilio brought the glass of alcohol to his lips, smelled, tilted the tumbler but did not drink. The assistant''s face was, as usual, expressionless. He truly wanted to ask the digital creature why the latest "challenge" had been so easy, but contestants were not allowed to talk directly with the interface as the game was ongoing. As the president, he could force her to talk to him, but the political repercussions would be dangerous to his reputation. He could already see the headlines.


    Kai continued, "As usual, they are on the twenty-first floor. Locked in the Faraday room. They are waiting. They saw your performance, and they have been briefed on all other classified issues including the turbulence of the Glass Slipper. Sir, this is why you prepared them."


    There was, for Emilio, an endless silence. Two seconds later, he laughed, "You are wonderful." Emilio would talk to the SAC and made his way to the door held open by the assistant.


    Anyone else would have smiled. Kai just confirmed, "I know."


    The Presidency came with stress, obligations, but also with the most spectacular office in the world. Emilio did not like heights, but the night view from the 107th floor of the Berlin Tower was breathtaking. Before him was a carpet of lights. He personally liked to be in close connection with the pulse of humanity, and this was not it. Emilio missed the simple joys of life: walking in a street, fixing a car, or just being anonymous in a crowd. But early in his first Presidency he rushed the construction of this tall towers. He felt he would need it on day. Today was that day.


    Before being diverted by the group of scientists part of the SAC, he was on his way to see the little martian bubblehead before taking a bow on the third floor. His team alone knew Electoral had sent a hundred little animated figurines of herself to selected individuals of power around the world. They were supposed to be promotional items for the mars finale, but he doubted this was true. Emilio had them confiscated and brought here.


    The hand-sized figurines were copies of Marilyn in her famous posture over the subway grate.What made him uneasy was the fact that the upper body of the figurine moved in a little cloud of red martian sand swirling in little glass globes. The motion of the sand appeared perpetual. There was no power, no energy source. Giving such strange gifts was unlike Electoral, she profited from everything and everyone.


    As he opened the door to walk out of his office, a tall man in uniform stood silent on the other side of the door. His expression was clear, he needed to speak with his President. Patrick Martin was the head of the World Investigation Service and one of Emilio''s most trusted advisors. His chest was covered in medals.


    "Let me guess, we have a problem," joked Emilio.


    "How do you know?" replied the man, obviously a stranger to irony. Kai knew better and headed to the bar, this time to prepare a real drink for the guest.


    "Patrick, each time I see you, there are... issues. You should come in once in a while with good news. The sportscast, that would make my day. How''s your wife?" President Emilio was very good at defusing difficult situations.


    "She is well, so is my daughter. Congratulations on the victory, sir, well-played as usual."


    "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Kai, how much time do I have?"


    "The representatives of the charity expect you on the third floor. Doubtful they will take issue with lack of timeliness after funding them for a century."


    "I need fifteen minutes," said Martin.


    "It''s that important?" Emilio seemed surprised. He rarely had more than a minute or two on any single topic. Tonight would be different.


    Kai poured a black fizzy cola, gave it to the military man and excused himself.


    The men sat down on one of the leather couches. Patrick clicked a button on a small remote, and an image appeared on the wall. It was the image of a deformed pale-skinned body in a dark alley. There was no sign of trauma, but the body was not pleasurable to look at. Something was weird. This was a META; a victim of the virus also in the body of Nick, the old Chairman of the Visconti.


    "President. We uncovered the body of this metabolic in an alley earlier today."


    "Yes, I see. And?"


    "As with the others, at a first glance his time seemed to have simply run out."


    Around 2046, a new medical infection had appeared, a rare virus that seemed to infect certain carriers with no real origin. The virus was not airborne or even sexually transmitted. The only known way to transmit the condition was through direct blood infection. The terrifying problem with the META virus, at it became known, was that somehow it made its way into the bloodstream of random victims, and no one knew how it did. No one but a handful knew Takeda had created the virus and given it to Nick.


    The symptoms upon infection took hours to manifest, not weeks. The entire metabolism of the host began to slow down. The body fell into a week-long sleep, only to awaken... different. For no apparent reason, the META virus inevitably killed the carrier, who would simply drop dead.


    Unlike with HIV, the carrier''s entire metabolism would undergo a visible and radical change after infection. An infected''s metabolism would, within weeks, drastically slow down. Cell replication was hindered, slowed to the point where hair cuticles stop working, resulting in total hair loss. Pigments disappeared from skin cells. Eyelids turned red, much like a bald albino.


    The victim''s most notable change was the slowing down of his or her metabolic regulation to a point where a META victim would need up to 16 hours of sleep each day. The body also seemed to regulate itself differently. Once infected, there was no known cure, and after a week, a month, or even 20 years, a carrier would simply drop dead.


    When it first surfaced, this virus was called the ¡°vampire¡± virus. When the small epidemic started, infected carriers were quickly ostracized from society. There was a fear of contagion and some level of discomfort with the frightening way these victims were transformed. At the time of arrival of the virus, the social stigma and level of discrimination facing the carriers was unprecedented. Recently, METAs had become a protected group recognized by law. Discrimination against those infected by the virus was no longer tolerated.


    Commentators referred to the META bearers as the lepers of the 22nd century. Even prisons refused to jail these individuals. No one dared talk to or touch these victims. However, the META condition is not a real problem, as only a few hundred people are known to have the virus at any one time.


    Emilio, as President, did not have to deal with this epidemic; contaminations fell outside of his jurisdiction. All he knew was that what he did not believe in random contamination. Somehow, the virus initially made its way into the bloodstream of twelve rich CEOs. These old men seemed immune from the deadly side effects and rather happy as they were. This was no coincidence. These powerful men even assembled in a weird semi-secretive collective called the Visconti; their leader was named Nick, a monster to avoid at all costs. So far, they had never broken any law, but Emilio monitored their every move.


    ¡°Nick just blew up a retirement home he owns, as if by amusement. More importantly, this morning, this META died in Moscow." Crimes were also outside of his jurisdiction. The street on the screen was dark and looked like the perfect place for one to dispose of a body. It was next to trash dumpsters. "Mr. President, take a look at the index finger." The camera zoomed in closer on the body. The tip of the white finger was twitching.


    "The man is still alive?"


    "No, he is dead. We all would have taken this for a simple META side-effect, but we found there is a pattern in this movement. The pattern repeats itself. It is quite long."


    "Let me guess, my name comes up?"


    "Yes. We know the source of the finger''s movement. At the base of the finger is a small neural implant set off by the termination of the bio activity in the nerve." There was a pause. "This device launches the twitch, which was designed to begin only after this person''s death. I figured this was important context."


    "The twitching is some type of will?"


    "Precisely. These implants are programmable and rather costly. They are very popular amongst athletes and pilots."


    "No better way to make sure the kids don''t rewrite the will. Do you have the message?" reminded Emilio.


    "We don''t understand most of it. It makes no real sense. We have a team working on it."


    "Try me. I love a good riddle."


    "We know. First, Mr. Conlon, that was his name, wills his estate to you, and specifically his "seat on the ark." You probably don''t know what he is referring to."


    "I actually have a clue. Continue...no, let me guess, a long list of numbers..."


    "Correct. How did you know?"


    "Did you inspect his private belongings?"


    "He was homeless. He died with nothing."


    "Okay. He has an expensive piece of implanted equipment and is homeless, yet he willed me his estate?"


    "Maybe a default setting in the implant. When they sell them, like a picture frame, it comes with a prerecorded message. Do you know about the Ark?"


    "Some secrets are better left unanswered." Emilio smiled. "Round 25 if you get curious. While you are here, I need you for a special mission; literally a fishing expedition. Patrick, when you have a moment, look at the logs. I fear Mr. Conlon may have tried to unsuccessfully reach me. Maybe via email, text, or even a voice mail."


    "We will."


    "I have an unorthodox request."


    "Sir, you are the President, and frankly none of your requests are ever conventional."


    Emilio ignored the witty comeback. "The first mistake of a chess player is to size up his opponent. When playing against someone you perceive as a beginner, you will make hasty moves, be too aggressive. When playing against the world champion, most will play too defensively. In both cases, a player''s desire to anticipate the effort results in a decline in performance." Martin wondered how the President had leaped from a dead META to this. The President was never this academic; whatever he was thinking about must have been important. Emilio continued. "The second mistake is to misevaluate the opponent. Like intellect, a normal chess player cannot truly quantify the level of skill disparity he is about to encounter. A beginner should start with the assumption he cannot win unless the champion commits a fault. The best way to push a champion to fault is by appearing weak, and be ready to exploit any error."


    Patrick Martin had no clue where Emilio was going with this; but he was the President and if he wanted to talk about chess, Patrick would listen.


    "Sorry if this seems complex. There are already players on this board, several I know of, the Visconti and Monroe. Both have amazing resources and are determined. I am convinced there are other forces at work here." He continued, "For a couple of months, I have had a nagging feeling a game with extremely high stakes was ready to begin. I trust few people but I trust you. I really have no way to know if you are a double agent playing for the other side."


    "I would never."


    "Patrick, don''t be naive. Your capacity to hold beliefs makes you vulnerable. You are easy to pervert. All someone needs to do is convince you that any action they want you to take is to my benefit, and you will comply. I feel like too many things are happening, most of them behind my back. I need to take back the control of this game. I have to make a move, even if it is a sacrifice. The two pieces on a chessboard better suited to destabilize are the rook and the jester. I need you to find and place in play a real jester."


    "Sir, you make no sense."


    "Trust me I do."


    "I do, sir, trust you. Honestly I have learned you operate in a different real."


    "I need someone with a very high IQ but also that is absolutely crazy. A madman, think similar to the Joker in the comic Batman."


    "What?¡±


    ¡°I need a mind unable to be predicted even by the most brilliant computer in the world.¡±


    ¡°Where will I find that?"


    "Look in prisons. Start there. I need to find someone who would, if given half a chance,kill every person on Earth. No one with an IQ below 145."


    "How much time do I have?"


    "Now." Emilio had a man in mind, and he wanted to see if Patrick would agree with his choice. ¡°Find someone you like, then things will resolve themselves.


    "Four minutes and forty six, seven..." Emilio''s mind included a perfect timer. "We had fifteen minutes, we saved ten minutes, not bad."


    On the way out of the room, the President said to his invisible assistant. "I will be down with the SAC." Then he turned to speak to the Colonel. "Once you have my jester, come get me there at the SAC. You have priority. It is hard to shut them up once they start. Pull me away if you have to." Finally the President said, "Kai, can you get us table at Johnny Rockets in sixty four minutes?" He looked at Patrick. "I will need a burger."


    He knew Kai would make the reservation as soon as the door closed.


    "Get my Jester now," ordered Emilio speaking loudly through the door on his way to the elevator.


    Patrick was, as usual in awe. He was there to bring bad news, Emilio was already several steps ahead.

 Chapter 51: The Scotch

    Emilio had a bad feeling about the confluence of recent unexplained events around the solar system. At first, he figured they were anomalies caused by the arrival of mankind on mars, then he feared it was Marilyn''s secret doing. But the cascade of these strange events was accelerating and since Round 24, the game had now become filled with riddles and clues. Today''s dead META was another reminder that many events were in play and he did not like it.


    Emilio was, at heart, a chess player; he missed the game. He saw life as a large chess board where pieces moved of their own volition, too often manipulated by others. Man had several remote exploratory missions in the outer edges of the solar system. Yesterday, as Sophie was landing on mars, a hotel in Antarctica made the news for the inauguration of its water park. Too many things were happening at once, and they made Emilio nervous.


    Sometimes, he felt like life was playing a game of cosmic chess, and heavy invisible pieces were being moved on a board. He alone sided against those who opposed mankind. What bothered him the most was that he felt this time like he was not part of the game, or at a minimum, he was only a pawn. It was his job, as the President to regain the upper hand, and that needed to happen quickly. In fact, before this night was over.


    He had a plan.


    It was reckless and dangerous, and would surely backfire, but it passed the Muo Jing test. Emilio loved the 60''s comedian. He was made famous when he held up a box of spaghetti onstage during his comedy show, and threw the dry pasta on the wall. The stiff sticks bounced, and all fell to the ground. He looked into the camera and said:"Most of you people are so stupid, you go through life doing things blindly and hoping something works. If you are going to throw spaghetti at a wall hoping it sticks... at a minimum, cook the damn thing first!" That made Emilio laugh for almost an hour. The comedian was right. Before actions were undertaken, he needed to cook his spaghetti. In this case, if someone had a larger plan, his action had to have an interplanetary consequence in order to influence these events. Burning a house wouldn''t do it. He needed to do something massive and unpredicted.


    The best way was to introduce new variables, to stir things up with a tool hidden from the visible game. Right after his reelection of 2068, the life of a little girl named Sophie Lapierre took a turn for the worse. She lost most of her family in a cascade of bizarre accidents and gained an unbelievable level of sympathy all around the world. The girl was hypnotic to watch, and in a strange way, deeply charismatic. Her father''s mind had somehow survived a series of traumas to his body in defiance of all principles of science. The pair was part of this puzzle. Laurent should be dead.


    Sophie was a player on this board. Marilyn another.


    The freakish accident left a barely functioning man as Emilio''s only obstacle to his 2072 reelection. The story of Laurent and Sophie was too compelling; he was being set up as the villain in the finale to this great character. Today, destiny sent Sophie and her father from the hotel on mars to the Electoral Center. Emilio''s plan against the girl took seconds to backfire. He gave orders to keep her safe, some idiot sat her for minutes in a cell and within seconds his plan had ended. Sophie was gone, out of his reach. He was now the evil man who had jailed this girl.


    Emilio was unsure what to think of the strange father and daughter duo. He would have given that girl his job if she asked, and this type of reaction was unlike him. She had a mysterious appeal on everyone; he had to be careful. He gave a lot of thought to the pair. Sophie and her father reminded Emilio of the child who became Louis XIV. It felt as if Laurent was being groomed by some higher force to win the reelection, which would in effect give the presidency on a silver platter to Sophie. A twelve-year old girl would, like young Louis, be vulnerable to Marilyn, a digital version of Cardinal Mazarin. Marilyn, now in contact with the girl, would use her young Louis as a puppet. Or possibly, he felt like Sophie''s unique appeal could be the first thing to reach out and get the digital goddess out of her hiding.


    Something else was going on, though. Emilio felt it. The President was no ordinary man. Skill or luck alone had not given him the two Presidencies, there was more. The man had a secret which had died along with his mother a couple of years ago. He was not only better at the game, he was different than other humans in a very unique way.


    Emilio had a secret no one had ever managed to extract out of him. The President was no superhero, no comic-book mutant, but his brain was wired differently. Young Sanchez was born with what felt like a curse, a condition that he only recently managed to turn into a gift.


    The first thing baby Emilio saw as he discovered the world were the faces of his family members dying multiple times each hour. Unless he as a toddler closed his eyes, he would see images of people do violent things: hit him, jump into traffic, as if he was having the types of vision usually enabled by LSD. The child cried for months. His brain forced him to see patterns, roads, or doors, as he called them. As if a mad director was torturing him, his mind kept playing, as quickly as it could, alternate futures for him in dangerous situations. It took a decade for his brain to begin to control these images, to sort them in a way where he could finally have what seemed like a normal life.


    As a toddler, he cried uncontrollably at the sight of any change around him. His parents could not understand why baby Emilio kept being scared of everyone. He did not like toys, mirrors, visitors... the list of his dislikes was endless. Doctors and psychologists were unable to diagnose his condition. When his parents strapped him into his car seat for a car ride, baby Emilio saw nothing at every intersection but car floods, violent crashes, cars flying off of cliffs, and fire, fire everywhere.


    The fear would end when they covered him with a blanket, but his parents refused to lock him away. Emilio learned to keep the cries to himself and simply close his eyes when he needed time alone. Heights were equally difficult to manage; he saw himself slide off ledges and die, he saw others walk off balconies and fall. In his over active mind''s eye, he watched every elevator cable in which he stepped snap. He lived for years in his own private horror movies.


    For most normal humans, such visions do come but they are rare and fleeting. They come if at all, when standing on a transparent ledge over the Grand Canyon, or when strapping oneself to an amusement park ride. There, people see themselves fall and fear the edge. Not so for Emilio, he grew up in a permanent state of vertigo. Anyone else would have been driven mad by the visions, but Emilio somehow got used to them. They became part of him.


    As the young man progressed through childhood, his brain''s wiring began to change. He no longer saw death at every corner, but instead he saw complex alternate futures of possible realistic outcomes. At six, he was living in a permanent guessing game. When someone knocked at the door of his house, his brain generated images of the most probable visitors likely to walk in. After a knock, he saw images of his father opening the door, then his grandmother, or even his aunt. Images flooded until the door actually opened and his mind snapped back to reality showing him who was actually on the other side of the door.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    The important thing to remember is that young Emilio had no way to know he was abnormal. With age, the accuracy of his predictions improved. By the time he was a teen, he rarely was surprised by the outcome of his visions. The images were no longer linked with events like a door knock, or a phone call, but instead were connected to a clock. By the age of fourteen, time regulated his life. His brain was changing, adapting yet again. He had no way to understand what was happening to him.


    The clock was his drug and his salvation. It helped him, reassured him.


    For every living thing close to him, he kept a close timeline in his mind of what they were probably doing. To him, his personal timelines were like a chess master playing fifty simultaneous chessboards blindfolded. He recalled sitting in class, lost in thought per usual, and knowing the principal would knock on the door. For almost an hour, he hesitated between a knock at 10:34:09 or 10:34:12. Earlier that morning, he had seen the man looking for the student who was responsible for a prank in the schoolyard. In his mind, he could see the man walk from classroom to classroom. He could see each class visit, each door the man opened.


    Then it happened: the principal knocked on the door and walked in, just as young Emilio had played in his mind. It was precisely 10:34:12. He had guessed the outcome. In silence, he felt proud of himself. He was a movie producer sitting in front of screens with different outcomes as he imagined them. He learned to hide this gift. The smallest evidence of his talent, any sign of a premonition given to the other students led immediately to fear and ridicule.


    Emilio mostly kept to himself until he became an adult. His only pleasure was playing chess. Quickly, he became school chess champion and was so strong, he was paired by the teacher with a computer. He loved playing the machine, he could not use his curse to guess its moves.


    One day the school''s chess team went to a demonstration given by the champion of the world playing the best students of Mexico. Emilio''s teacher and parents forced him to go. He needed little arm-twisting. They figured he would do well, and the young adolescent needed some self-esteem.


    Each kid was placed in front of a board on the outer edge of tables placed in a large circle. The champion made his way around the inside of the circle, playing each child one move at a time. The champ played white. The tall man grabbed a piece on Emilio''s board and moved it. Emilio was nervous. The man moved E2-E4. Emilio reached for a piece; all the possible outcomes, all the variants, began to flash before his eyes. In each scenario, he saw himself lose the game. He moved his hand above a different piece: again, in every scenario he could foresee that he would lose the game. There was no piece he touched that showed him any favorable outcome. He would lose this game; he knew it. Young Emilio panicked, began to hyperventilate, got up, and ran out.


    His mother and his coach were upset and disappointed. His mother tried in vain to explain how he needed to lose for years to the man, study him from a distance before he finally could hope to beat the champion, but Emilio saw things differently. He was a fraud and a cheat. The only reason he was school champion was because of his curse. What was the point of playing, he wondered, and he resigned from the chess team the next day.


    As a teenager, Emilio was a distant observer of the world he lived in. Of the many things he could have done with his gift, he did none. His curse was also very problematic when it came to sex. When he saw a person that aroused him, his curse went into overdrive. Before he could even introduce himself, his mind would send him images of him in all types of positions having intercourse with the person. To teen Emilio, it proved too difficult for him to approach someone after having just watched a porn movie featuring that person. Emilio learned to keep that aspect of himself private.


    Then, after adolescence, his brain still had tricks and tortures for him. It keep growing, as if he was watching a movie produced by someone else, his mind took on a life of its own. It began to show images it had selected for him. One day he saw a flash of a naked woman with a large shoulder tattoo. It was an eagle. Minutes later, on a beach he saw a woman remove her sweater and uncovering a tattoo, albeit slightly different. There was no way for him to have known she was there. From timed visions, his brain began to have premonitions, visions that most often proved right. The gift was growing, learning and structuring itself. With time, the accuracy of his predictions increased.


    At twenty, he inherited his father''s garage after a tragic family accident. He loved the job as a mechanic; it was simple and far from large urban centers. He lived peacefully without a television, taking care of his sister until she left for Japan. Drinking also slowed his demanding mind down. When intoxicated, he functioned like most people. But to him, this was cheating.


    Today, president Emilio enjoyed walking around with a tumbler of Scotch at hand. It was the water which could extinguish the fire of his mind. Holding the drink was reassuring. A sip would stop his visions. The glass was his white cane. He did not care if others had no clue why he walked around with the drink, or better yet, thought he was a drunk.


    Young Emilio could not imagine that his way of seeing the world was unique, but after his 2062 and 2068 victories, he was forced to conclude that he was alone capable to guess the future. He was a freak of nature, and there was no reason for him to reveal his gift. Playing the Electoral platform was second nature to him. The interface was a perfect fit for his premonitions. After he logged in, he could guess the game before he even began to play it. The Presidential Challenge was different. Everyone knew the scenario. He figured, for once, his gift would prove useless. Yet he''d easily won. Again.


    The President smelled the Scotch.


    Emilio secretly hoped the anomalies on mars were nothing more than growing pains of the Electoral software as she passed her own version of adolescence. But he knew her very well; better than any other human aside from her programmer. There was no testing the interface; only participants were entitled to enter the game. As the winner of the last two presidential elections, he had played the game more than any other.


    Something else was going on, something much more dangerous. The digital goddesswould never ask for his help, but he knew she was in need of it.


    Kai, his hand-picked assistant, much like his obsession with holding the Scotch tumbler, was another strange affectation of Emilio''s whom no one understood. To his wandering mind, the man was refreshing. The Taiwanese acted as a cold, emotionless android and was therefore was highly predictable. Each time Kai entered the room, there were no alternate futures populating Emilio''s mind. Nuclear missiles could be minutes away from impact and Kai would open the door to his office the same way, look in his direction, inspect Emilio''s expression, look at his watch and then look to see if Emilio''s tumbler had ice. The predictability of this man was music to Emilio''s wandering mind.


    Today, Emilio knew his gift was needed. It was just unclear how. The stakes were high; that much he knew, he felt it.


    Kai was back in his office, and Patrick was now looking for his killer. The President took two steps and was standing alone on the edge of his private elevator going to the 21st floor. In his mind, he saw the cables of the elevator snap and the elevator cage drop, he also saw a hundred other accident. He took a deep breath and tried to think about something else before he set foot on the elevator holding both sides like a child stepping onto an escalator.


    People just thought he was fearful of elevators. He stepped in the cage, pushed the button and began his ride down to the SAC. The cables did not snap, but in his mind''s eye, he saw them break multiple times.


    This world needed saving, he just did not understand he was being conservative in his assessment.

 Chapter 52: The SAC

    Emilio made his way down to the 21st floor on his private elevator in seconds. Quickly, his nervousness of standing in a box suspended by small cables was replaced with the excitement of meeting the twelve most brilliant minds of this century.


    There was little in the world he enjoyed more than the exhilarating felling of interacting with these great minds. He couldn''t help it; he felt like a child waking up on Christmas Day. He needed the group of men for two reasons. The first was personal. In their presence, they made him think like a normal person. What they said was so brilliant, his overactive mind struggled to grab the words as they were spoken. Instead of seeing images in that room, he saw these people''s faces. To Emilio, that was fresh air.


    The second reason was much more important. It took Emilio nearly eight years to assemble this group of people and force them to interact in a precise way. After his humiliating defeat against the world''s chess champion, the President learned how to channel his gift in difficult situations. Against a champion, his gift had failed because his own level of play was insufficient to see potential favorable outcomes.


    Emilio had invented a theory on how he could overcome any obstacle. He named it "crutching." One day he walked in on a game of the chess champion playing someone of Master level. As the game advanced, the weaker player began to falter. Emilio''s gift kicked in and began to work. It used the local player''s position and board as a crutch. His mind could see the error in the choice of a pawn and then see better moves leading to victory. Like a hawk rising on a thermal, Emilio harnessed the Master''s skill and knew how to play to victory.


    Emilio was indeed the best choice as President, and the Electoral system had been right all along in electing him. Her interface had successfully placed at the head of the government the most gifted individual, the man qualified to protect mankind. Now, using brilliant minds, he planned to beat Electoral. If he needed to. She''d grown too frighteningly powerful for him not to set contingencies in place.


    The elevator of death stopped on the 21st floor. The box finally opened, he jumped both feet from the side rims of the floor to the center of the room to avoid embarrassment. He knew his fears were unreasonable.


    Armed with a group of the brightest minds he could find, he would be able to expand his gift and hopefully, when a real crisis pointed its nose on the horizon, as it probably was at the moment, he would not be defenseless. No one knew about the extent of Emilio''s gift, not even (he figured) the artificial intelligence running the game. No one also knew of the true purpose of the SAC, they all figured they were an expensive indulgence of a powerful man.


    Years ago, he had insisted that the SAC meeting room be surrounded by a Faraday cage. Faraday postulated that any metal shell on which current was placed would shield the inside against any electromagnetic communication with the outside. His most obvious enemy, the creature against whom his SAC would most likely be needed, was the world''s foremost and all-powerful computer intelligence. Marilyn was well known for having little respect for privacy rights and Emilio insisted on protecting against her. The Faraday cage was designed to shield the SAC''s discussions from her power; at least that was the theory before her achievements reached science-fiction proportions.


    For years, his heart had been telling him that one day, there would be an important event, a problem of such a magnitude that no single action, however well targeted, would suffice to save mankind. In his gut, he knew something was about to happen. Now he felt it was here, but like in any real war, the first task was to diagnose the problem and locate the right enemy. He still was on the fence. For the moment, Nick the Chairman of the Visconti was one outgunned by Marilyn herself. Emilio knew better than to keep an open mind.


    Eight years of presidency was no walk in the park. Once done, he planned to retire by going back to school and spending quality time in a cluttered lab under the exhilarating guidance of one of these individuals. His passion was for theoretical physics and mathematics. As a student in Mexico City, he had never had truly inspiring teachers and quickly lost interest in education and science. Today, he was a different man. He dreamt of going back to lean. Emilio took pride in knowing after years, these superior minds had a reciprocal admiration for him.


    The belief that they viewed him as equal was Emilio''s delusion; the scientists knew the President was in a league of his own. They saw Sanchez as our modern day Leonardo Di Vinci. The man was, to everyone in the group, a singular exemplar of quasi-perfection. Emilio refused to stay in the Faraday room for extended periods of time. While refreshing, he felt powerless without his gift. His constantly buzzing mind was a friend he now needed and feared to disconnect. Contact with the SAC was like jumping off a plane; blood rushed through his body, but too much could prove dangerous. The elevator had opened into a long, white, windowless hallway. The 21st floor was silent and empty aside from the SAC; this was the way Emilio''s hyperactive mind liked things.


    Sixty-seven seconds off the elevator and exactly sixty-seven long paces down the hallway, he arrived at a set of heavy doors flanked by two armed guards. Emilio liked to measure useless things like steps. His large stride was now perfectly one meter and he could walk three and a half kilometers in an hour. Inside the room, behind the guards, he could hear the scientists engaged in discussion. His assistant Kai knew him so well: he needed the stimulation, the intelligence, and most importantly, some humility after his victory playing the Presidential Challenge.


    An image of the dead META flashed through his mind. Why was it here? This was not a good sign. Both armed guards saluted the President, slung their weapons, and slowly pulled completely open the heavy vault door. Inside were several large manual clocks and old-fashioned chalkboards already covered by scribbles. Here, there was no electricity or technology. Emilio smiled at the guards and gave his phone to the cute one. The President forced himself to ignore the seductive images that came to his overactive mind.


    "Congratulations, sir," said the guard.


    Emilio just smiled at the guard, nodded and walked in. He had more pressing matters. He made a note to ask for uglier guards to avoid these disturbing sexual images. The room was bare; it had no computers, no electricity, and most importantly, no ventilation. Oil lamps and candles provided the illumination. Emilio wanted Marilyn and any computer memory as far away from the SAC as possible. Here, electronics were prohibited. Once the doors closed, the cage would be electrified. Those inside would run out of oxygen unless the door was reopened. The doors could not be locked, but had to be manually operated.


    This was the President''s sanctuary away from the all-powerful Marilyn Monroe. But today, seeing Marilyn''s exponentially growing power, he guessed she had found a way around even this inviolable scientific principle. As soon as the door shut, the room exploded in lively discussion. The SAC members knew the importance and relevance of the President''s participation to the discussions, so the men and women had tried to wait until he arrived to start.


    Emilio smelled the Scotch he was still carrying and sat at the end of the table. In his mind, the visions were dissipating. The room was taking shape. These people were here and so was he, sitting here were a number of multi-disciplinarians in overlapping branches of science. Six were Nobel laureates, two owned Fields medals in mathematics, and others had prestigious university chairs. Only one man, a detective had been invited to join and had no academic background. The average IQ in this room was measured at 149.


    Emilio smiled and saluted everyone. "Welcome!" The salutation was heartfelt. "Sorry to keep you up so late. We have little time; I will be pulled from the room in about twenty minutes by Patrick. You have been briefed about the latest problems. Without sounding alarmist, I fear things are accelerating. Let''s make sure we leave secondary findings to others. I need to see a big picture; I need to see what is happening. Today of all days you have to dumb this down to my level. Remember, I barely graduated high school." Several members cringed at the comment. This group didn¡¯t like the President''s self-deprecating remarks.


    Emilio continued. "We have been in what seems to be an accelerating avalanche of events that I strongly believe will converge on the day of the finale of the Electoral competition. There is little time, just under a month. The date feels right to me." No one disagreed. Emilio continued. "I know something is going to happen. Marilyn shipped a hundred mysterious bobble heads down from Mars, those from Round 24. I have them locked-up in quarantine in this building on a different floor. Manufacturing information shows she built ten more. We may be missing a few." The group had been briefed.


    ¡°Under the glass domes of these figurines was a figurine of Marilyn. The movement in each of a cloud of Martian sand seems to be perpetual, and we all know how ridiculous that sounds. The cloud of martian sand in each blows wind under the skirt of the Marilyn figurine. That is number one. A META on the not-so-secret Visconti board blew up a hospital near Vienna. I was just informed that a different META dropped dead here in Berlin and left me what is called his spot on the ark rom Round 25.The Visconti also likely sabotaged the orbital laser on mars that almost made the Airbus with the players miss the landing. I had some back-up contingencies drafted, one was useful it appears."


    Emilio was trying to organize the different events in his mind. He continued, "On mars, a month ago, a mysterious hydrogen flare killed our first manned expedition beyond what looks like an alien-made door. They had seen sand with unique properties before dying, that sand orbits in the balls Marilyn sent over. A day ago, the Glass Slipper encountered turbulence where I was told none could exist. On that same day, a passenger on the ship to mars died of brain damage, and now Laurent Lapierre seems to be infected with the same condition, which strangely is not fatal to him." Emilio took a deep breath and continued. "Marilyn now has Sophie and her father in custody, and she''s playing music in near-vacuum conditions, which she has somehow made possible." He thought for a second and continued. "Things are a bit more complicated than that, but you get the gist of it. Any new facts before we start the analysis?"


    A couple of hands went up, and a tall man with bad complexion jumped in. "Minutes ago you won the Presidential Challenge, proving yet again your complete dominance over the platform. This should be a 127-person fight at this point, but this really is a two-man show, you and Laurent. This is no coincidence," said Francois Copland, the holder of the Mandelbrot Chair of mathematics. Everyone nodded in approval.


    "I have something." Detective Chamberland of Interpol took the floor. "Remember how a very unique movie began to play on the screens of the Glass Slipper at the conclusion of that turbulent ride? I was wondering why it showed up. First, only Electoral could pick and play that specific movie on these screens. No one has access to them at that rate."


    "We do not know for sure Electoral is responsible for playing that movie," said a short lady.


    Chamberland acknowledged the comment with a smirk, but continued. "We cops don''t need certainty. Seems rather obvious to me the blonde is involved. Totally her modus operandi, timing was too impeccable to be anyone else. The movie was a diversion. Why him, that passenger and not the others, I wondered? The Slipper is made of glass. They all have pretty much the same view over the Martian landscape. She wanted to stop one man from looking at something on mars. That bugged me. One man said on the camera the movie was his favorite. That''s our guy. Turns out the man''s body is unique in one very difficult way to diagnose. His medical file says he has 20/20 vision, but my research shows that this man in fact has better-than-exceptional vision. "


    "How did you find this out?" asked a scientist.


    "It''s documented. Let me put it in words you guys will understand. The astronomer Tycho Brahe from the 15th century was one man with such a gift. Tycho is said to have been able to perceive the moons of Jupiter on a clear day with his naked eye. There have been only a handful of individuals recorded in history with this gift. Looking around, I found an old entry on social media written by a former high school friend of this passenger. She describes the man as having the gift of being able to read from across a room. If we are to believe her, he could read a clothing label from the length of a football field away. I looked at his eye exam when he signed up for Mars. He has an exceptional vision."


    "What can this man see that our satellites have never seen?"This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "I mapped the position of the Slipper at the precise moment at which the diversion occurred. For a diversion by Marilyn to be relevant, the thing to be seen had to be visible by the human eye for only a short time, and only by that man. Using a simulation, I played with the angles, and from where they were, a person with perfect vision could have seen the area around the Door at the bottom of that chasm on mars. He would have seen the door. What she showed btw at Round 24."


    The great thing about this group was that rarely did anyone ever have to repeat themselves. Each knew these facts were no coincidence.


    "We already know about the door," said one man.


    "There must be something else to see, something we cannot spot with our cameras. Maybe what caused the explosion as that smoke," answered the detective.


    "How do we check?" asked Copland.


    "Nothing is easier. Verify the negative. Have that bird fly again, but this time make sure they don''t fly over the door or don¡¯t put that man in it." Emilio was enjoying the conversation. Emilio stayed silent as usual.


    The mathematician continued. "Are you suggesting that Marilyn killed the recon mission? Or that she had a hand in what happened to them?"


    "No. I conclude Marilyn is working very hard to prevent us from going there or coming in contact with whatever is down there. That also explains why she spoke privately with the ground mission before their death, probably a warning of some type. Feels to me like Marilyn wants but can''t tell us to be careful with her newfound martian neighbors."


    Emilio volunteered information the group did not know. "It fits. Marilyn contacted a person in that glider and told him to relax before the turbulence began. She also contacted the pilot on the Airbus A2070 to calm her down before the laser incident. She also told the head of our ground mission to back off before the team was vaporized." Emilio was now sure there were aliens on mars, and that Electoral knew about them. "Any more?" continued the President.


    "Yes,"said a psychologist from across the room. "It¡¯s about the incident at the hospital in Vienna, here on Earth. I kept watching the explosion over and over in a loop, and frankly this entire story bugged me. That scene is way too dramatic. The limo, the empty parking lot, even the rainy night. No one blows up a health care facility like that. There was definitely an explosive in that basement. The incident looks great on paper, but it really makes no sense. While we can''t identify from the tapes who from the Visconti blew it up, I am sure we are talking about Nicholas Schmidbauer, the chairman himself. He is overconfident and does not hide his tracks, but most importantly, he produces a TV show called Serial Killers."


    "A TV show?"


    The man continued, "Trust me, this show sucks, and the only reason it is still being produced on Austrian TV is to flatter Nikky¡¯s ego. Legends has it, he offered a script to the director with this exact scene. The director felt the scene was so stupid that he refused to direct it. Ultimately Nick fired that director. I think Nicholas purchased the building and wanted to prove to himself that his writing was impeccable and the he scene could work. That¡¯s stupid enough for him to do." Emilio loved these people, Nikky, Nick, Nicholas. The use of diminutives was obviously to ridicule the man. The man continued. "In the original script, a person walks out and the explosion is a diversion to rescue a prisoner in one of the rooms."


    The men and women in the group were thinking. "Takeda, the famous virologist was there." They all agreed on the connection. Emilio was listening eyes closed.


    "Anything else?" said the President. Emilio had little time.


    "Yes," said the biologist, head of the Pasteur Institute. "Let me try to earn the very generous pay your government is giving me."


    "Our government," mumbled Emilio.


    The biologist ignored the comment. "I investigated the death of the player on the flight to mars from a biological perspective. The player who died seconds before Laurent came down with his unknown condition would have lived, in my opinion, had he been sleeping at the time he was attacked." It took a moment for the statement to sink in. Emilio looked at the expressions around the room.


    "What?" asked Copland on behalf of the group.


    "The human brain is a very complex machine. The player was awake, online, and simply watching the Electoral system. The brain of Mister Gresens was not in a sleeping mode nor in a semi-sleeping gaming mode. I do not know the source of the energy that killed the player on that flight but when humans dream or play, a very unique portion of our brains regulates synaptic activity, a portion around here"¡ªhe pointed¡ª"named the lower hippocampus. I worked on a team who... tried..."¡ªhis hands forming "air quotes" as he said the word¡ª"to kill humans who are in the virtual world or sleeping. We wanted to kill pilots of drones, for example in this mode. When humans enter the digital world, the hippocampus flares up, acting to protect us the same way it blocks our bodies when we sleep. To our brains, playing a virtual-reality game and dreaming are pretty much the same thing." The scientist continued, "In order to kill someone who is dreaming, or playing a virtual game, you really need more energy vis-¨¤-vis a person who is not."


    "That''s horrible," said a woman.


    "Grow up, Cindy. Here is my point. Laurent Lapierre is the only human we know with an overdeveloped hippocampus. He has been in a permanent dream state, with an overactive hippocampus for years."


    Emilio broke his silence. "Simply stated?"


    "Someone tried a unique weapon to kill the first passenger, a weapon which energizes the hippocampus. The weapon worked on the first person. Then the weapon was used on Laurent and may have failed. That explains the heightened energy in the brain of Laurent."


    "Why would anyone try a weapon there and then? It makes no sense," asked a scientist.


    "Agreed, it''s a working theory."


    Emilio said, "Not sure if the conclusions are not premature, but with the hippocampus linked to the dream state, and Laurent''s unique condition; that''s worth keeping. Any more facts? My time is running out." No one talked.


    Emilio smiled. He walked to a small table located behind him. He poured himself a new glass of Scotch over fresh ice cubes. There was no time to offer others a drink.


    "Okay, now onto the analysis. Who wants to start?"


    Emilio knew everyone was itching to speak. A lean adolescent stood up. He was too excited to remain seating. "We are two mathematicians here, maybe we should begin." Emilio smiled; he loved mathematics and respected the field. "I can prove scientifically that all of these events; all of them, including today''s, emanate from a single cause." Mathematicians all love to shock with their theorems. "In math, there is no such thing as an impossible yet occurring event. Once something happens, it has been proven possible, only its cause is unknown. In our modern world, we can explain most events. Unexplained events are very rare. Two months ago, my inbox began piling up with information on these anomalies, each of which seemed more diverse and improbable than the last." The man was animated with large hand movements, obviously excited. He was using his hands to both convey his emotions and bleed off excess excitement and stress.


    He continued, "Mathematically, the proximity in time of these many anomalies is extremely important. I will spare you the series calculation, but the only logical way to produce a series of adjacent timed anomalies, each which should in theory be highly improbable, is by reclassifying each anomaly as a probable sub-event from a single larger event. We call it the unknown cause theory."


    Emilio was perplexed. ¡°Not sure I get it?¡±


    The man continued. "I think an analogy would be helpful here. For a high school to produce an exceptional student, later known on the international stage, is a rare and improbable. Nothing can be drawn from one or two student in the news. If, within a short window in time, a large number of exceptional students are produced by a single school and the focus of international attention, we can conclude that a source, a reason, some influence, generates these individual results. They are classified from a normal anomaly, to what we call a classical subset. Math tells us there is a cause, unknown perhaps, generating these normally improbable events." Everyone around the table had reached the same conclusion but based on a different logic.


    Another mathematician continued. "Here is the second conclusion we can reach simply from this number''s series analysis. It''s even stronger as these events precipitate over time. Let me continue Francois'' analogy. If each fantastic student produced by the school turns out to be a brilliant chemist and gets a Nobel laureate in Chemistry, we can easily deduce the probable source, most likely an exceptional teacher in Chemistry. Each gifted student has a common feature. Each occurrence is from one series. If the students instead each receive a Nobel but in different disciplines, we know the source is less likely to be a single teacher, but it could be the principal, the parents. Something which touches every child; a larger series."


    "What if our school produces multiple exceptional Nobel recipients, Olympians, exceptional authors, or even an opera diva? While it becomes more difficult to find the commonality, or the cause, math tells us something very useful about the cause of our unrelated events. These events must have a commonality. There is one source, one event, one origin capable of generating all these effects. Continuing John''s analogy, the common source could be a drug that boosts intelligence, or even a common gifted progenitor in the region."


    He took a deep breath. "Whatever the source, it must be capable of generating, or influencing all of these events."


    "Your conclusion?" asked the Detective.


    "Whatever is that source, it has to be responsible for all of it, not just a part, even if we want to see these events completely disassociated. The victory earlier today of the President and the death of the mission on mars from a month ago are somehow connected. Find the connection -- find the source, something capable of touching all these events ¡ª and you will understand."


    Once again, the man''s conclusion seemed obvious to all.


    "Before the physicists chime in..." said Leopoldo Garibaldi. "Let me take a crack at this. We, in law enforcement, take a completely different angle to solve these problems. When we cannot find a mastermind, someone who hides his tracks, we think of the problem from the the perspective of a motive. Who or whatever is that source you just describe, it, she, he has a motive. That allows us to narrow the search." The man made sense. "Most of my peers think the motive is always money, but I wrote a book on this topic. The one true motive to every crime is always, without exception, selfishness. Crimes are the last resort when normal routes fail. Here, the question is, "Who benefits from these events and who is made better by them?


    The detective continued, "Politically, financially, and sociologically, we live in a rather fulfilling period for mankind. Twenty years ago, after the third world war, there were more incentives to commit crimes. Right now, Electoral found a new place to live; she seems happy. She has money and power, so I do not think she has any motive to act in such a way. We need to find a group that is unhappy with this peaceful status quo."


    "Who do you have in mind?"


    "The obvious choice; not mankind. Whatever has been living on mars for millions of years, however, must be rather pissed to see Electoral and us barge in on their peaceful existence. Martians are this common cause you are talking of John.¡±


    "I don''t buy the space alien scenario," the historian in the room countered. The large woman was coiffed with a large hat. "I prefer the simpler solution of human change before we jump the gun and point to a new god-like source. Historically, the opposition to any strong, stable regime has had few options, one being to empower less-powerful groups directly or indirectly to pursue their own goals. Not to insult you Mister President, but if we take issue with this regime, you''d need to push and poke a lot of different smaller groups."


    She continued. "Let''s not assume that alien life exists and is highly advanced, yet is waiting peacefully until the finale of Electoral 2072 to react. Sounds..." she said, tempering her words as she looked at the others, "...a bit far-fetched. Improbable. To me, this is simply human evolution. Humans always foolishly think they will be able to perceive the evolution of our race. History tells us otherwise: we are always surprised by the future."


    "I like this," said a different man. "There is no denying that we are historically at the biggest nexus of forced change our race has ever seen. Man has always resisted change. I am not surprised that forces from many places would oppose this evolution. Humans now are in space, we created Electoral, a new life form, and we are now on mars."


    The group paused.


    Emilio directed, "A show of hands. The girl, Sophie, is she the pivot here?" Five of the twelve hands got up. "Who thinks Electoral is the pivot here?" Three hands went up. "Laurent Lapierre," he asked. No hands. He was missing votes. "An alien life?" He got two hands. "Me?" The last two hands got up. Emilio''s gift worked; from this group, he knew who was right.


    "Sophie is the pivot, the attraction around which all this evolves." In the last six years, the group had never heard the President express his opinion so openly. ¡°The girl, something is unique about her. Things are attracted to her.¡±


    "Are you certain?" asked detective Leo. He immediately wished he could pull back his idiotic comment.


    "Yep!" Emilio got up from his seat. "I want you guys now to work with two assumptions. The first, Sophie is the magnet around which things gravitate. Let¡¯s imagine she is an...¡± he was looking for the right word, ¡°attractor.¡± He was thinking and smelled his beverage.


    "The other?"


    "That I am right on this one. Time is precious, we can''t waste any."


    On cue, there was a loud noise coming from the door. Emilio pretended to look at an imaginary watch, grabbed his tumbler, and walked out. He had saved another four minutes.


    "I know we aren''t done here," Emilio said from the edge of the door. He turned back, grabbed a box of markers and library cards. He passed them around. "Assuming the girl is the attractor here, write down in one sentence on this card what you personally think is going on. Over the next two hours, I want you guys to draw on the chalkboard three diagrams of future events leading up to the finale of this damn game. My gut tells me on that day, shit will go down. A diagram of probable events, one of unlikely events, and one of far-fetched events. How can that girl blow everything up?"


    There was awe in the room. The President had a purpose, and strangely, everyone felt deep down that he was right. Each member of the SAC grabbed a card and a pen. They wrote quickly. The fact that each person in the room still knew how to write with a pen was evidence the level of education and resourcefulness of these individuals. Emilio collected the cards on his way out, folded each in half and slid them sight unseen in his pocket.


    "I need the sketches in two hours after my burger." The President turned to a guard. "Get these people some good food, and cater from four different places. The last thing I need is twelve scientists lined up in the bathroom!" As he walked out, there was a reflective silence in the room generally filled with discussion.

 Chapter 53: The Ark

    "Did you, yet again, save the world?" asked Patrick Martin as the President walked out of the vault room. The question was mostly rhetorical.


    "Trying," smiled his friend. The President was in a much better mood. Sophie was the key, this little girl from Indiana, now he just needed to find out why and what to do about it. Emilio would have been the only detective in the world figuring out the killer before he determined a motive or having seen the crime scene.


    The Colonel was trying in vain to make small talk. They walked back to the elevator along the long white corridor. As they approached the large metal door, he felt the President tense up. He knew Emilio didn''t like elevators and hated basements -- their next destination. Days ago, the President had ordered several of the most dangerous serial killers alive brought here and placed below the surface in cells in a maximum security area. Patrick himself did not know the area was there. Emilio¡¯s jurisdiction did not reach into criminal matters, but damned if the man didn''t come to the dance prepared.


    Half way to the elevator, the President pulled out the little cards folded in his pocket, stacked them neatly without peaking at them. Stopping a second to push with a finger the crease of each to they would all align at the edge.


    "What is that?"


    "My first move on what I hope will be a short game of chess." Emilio was always extremely clear with his explanations; when he dodged an answer like he just had, there was no point in probing further. The President slid the cards in the back pocket of his pants. "How was your search for my Jester?"


    "Jester?" He then took an ironic tone of voice.


    "Bishop if you prefer."


    "Much easier than anticipated. The first four on my list were magically brought out of their confinement and flew here weeks ago by someone who¡¯s last name is Sanchez. They are in the basement cells it seems. Someone"¡ªhe looked at Emilio¡ª"even had them prepped for interrogation and given a number. Sir, why waste my time searching?"


    "Which one do you prefer?"


    "The one you placed in cell number one; the French Canadian."


    "Good choice. Why do you prefer him?"


    "If given half a chance, that guy will vaporize half the human race. The men in these rooms are all psychopaths, yet this guy is somehow different. He is highly charismatic. His registered IQ is 185. I know you value this number. God knows why." Emilio smiled. Patrick was the simple and kind man every mother dreamt of having. ¡°He also wears a mullet.¡±


    Emilio chuckled, Patrick knew him well. The elevator doors opened. This lift was reserved to the President. This time two guards were waiting inside. Patrick had increased the level of security.


    Emilio paused. "No disrespect, gentlemen, but Patrick, who are the thugs?"


    "The protocol is clear, you need personal security to enter the basement."


    "They have no guns?" The two men smiled.


    "They''re trained in close quarters combat, or CQC, sir. A weapon favors the attacker. These men are experts in CQC." Patrick knew the President well enough to offer his hand as Emilio stepped onto the elevator. He was like a man stepping on a rocking boat. The Colonel could not know the President was seeing cables snap, sending the foursome headlong crashing into the basement.


    Emilio figured he would always have trouble with elevators and escalators. He knew one day he would die in or on one. Once in, he looked at the control panel. The basement button was lit. Emilio reached out and pushed the 3rd floor button. It also lit.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "A detour of only a couple of minutes. I promise," said the President. The beauty of being the boss was that no one ever talked back except his assistant Kai. One day he would miss that part of his job. In silence, the presidential security detail activated. As the lift made its way down, it was slowed to give time for the security guards on the third floor to get ready. The Secret Service in the room was on high alert.


    ***


    Seconds later, the elevator doors opened onto a large ballroom. The crowd in the room erupted cheers and applauds. Hundreds of important donors and celebrities were here to celebrate the victory of the World Tsunami Relief Foundation, via Emilio''s domination of the Presidential Challenge. The group of nearly a thousand was celebrating, live on television; the greatest fundraising victory of all time. A giant screen had a thermometer gushing a flow of money from its top. Below it blinked the number $1,203,609,121,560.44. The number was steadfastly impressive. Emilio wondered why they bothered with the decimals.


    It took a second for the President to get accustomed to the brightness in the room. An announcer''s voice helped silence the cheering group. "A warm welcome to the man of the century, the man who has just funded our organization for the next Century, the winner of the Presidential Challenge and our President of the United Nations: Emilio Wamarez Sanchez!"


    The floor exploded with genuine cheers as he gladly stepped off the elevator. Patrick stayed in the back of the elevator. He would wait for Emilio to return. Emilio opened both arms to embrace the crowd. These people loved Emilio. Highlights of the performance were playing in loops on the walls. He was now televised live around the world; little red lights on the tops of cameras all turned to green as Emilio moved around.


    Emilio spoke briefly to the crowd, a flute of champagne in hand, and gave briefinterviews to several news outlets. The Mexican man always had dice in his pocket. Each time the line of news reporters became too long to manage, he grabbed the little cubes rolled them inside his hands, asked a person to the read the number, smiled and skipped over a number by the number rolled. The journalists seemed to love this fair treatment.


    Patrick, like many, loved his President. Emilio was exceptional in all aspects. Patrick wondered how the man could still be a bachelor, there had to be a man or a woman for him. Ten minutes later, Emilio finally managed to pull himself free and talk with the woman who presided over this charity. He knew Sharon very well. She was kind, intelligent, and more importantly, resourceful.


    "Emilio!" she gushed. He kissed both of her cheeks.


    "Sharon, I have to be brief here, I need a favor."


    "A favor, from me? You just gave us a trillion credits. If you want my firstborn, it''s yours."


    "This is serious." He pulled her aside. He was no longer kidding. She had never seenthe President so serious. "I have one trillion-dollar question."


    "What is it?"


    "I need you to investigate something in total secrecy. No one can know."


    "Of course."


    The President whispered in her ear. "I am serious. People will kill you if they catch you snooping around... really bad people. Rewatch Round 25, start there."


    ¡°You have to be kidding.¡± She drank from her flute as she finally acknowledged the importance of the request.


    "Really?"


    "Really. Trust no one. You have two or three days, not more."


    She finally realized this was no joke. "If I can. We aren''t a Secret Service agency. But trust me, I''ll try."


    He grabbed her and drew her close as if he were kissing her neck. With one hand he covered his mouth so the cameras in the room could not read his lips. "There is a secret powerful group of METAs, and they have trillions in resources. They are building something they call an Ark. I need to know what the hell it is and, better yet, where it is." He smiled at her. "I think it''s some nuclear winter bunker, and I figured if anyone knows the people building anything underground, it''s you."


    "Correct. We build."


    "Don''t trust Marilyn. She may be involved." That would make things rather more difficult.


    "Building a bunker is one thing, but hiding the efforts of hundreds of contractors from you should be harder." He stepped back a bit and continued in a normal voice. "If they find out you''re snooping, you''ll be dead within an hour. Sorry to spring this on you."


    As he walked back to the elevator he simply said out loud: "You really didn''t think money was going to fall from the sky, did you?"


    He blew her a kiss in the air. Sharon was left standing there, by herself, in the large crowd. The man was awesome. She, as everyone who had ever met Emilio, was in awe. She smiled back as he stepped carefully back on the elevator. Then she lifted her flute, and swallowed its full contents as she felt a runnel of sweat thread its way down her back. If Emilio needed something, she would sure as daylight get that answer.

 Chapter 54: The Jester

    Emilio and Patrick resumed the strange elevator journey down to the basement, flanked by the two guards. The men were anxious as they slid down the Berlin skyscraper. Emilio smiled, "Sorry for the delay.Let''s see what 184 in IQ gets these days." He rubbed his hands in glee.


    "The sales brochure said 185, but who''s counting." Emilio loved Patrick''s dry sense of humor.


    "He should be down even lower by now. IQ drops with age and when your cell companion is a fern. Decades in his cell, he really must be closer to 180, but I am giving him the benefit of the doubt."


    "Why do you call this man a jester?"


    The President took the edge off being on the elevator. "In French, the bishop on a chess board is called ''le fou'' and should be translated in English to ''the crazy'' or ''the insane''. Le fou du roi, translates to ''the king''s jester.'' That piece on the chess board is very important. It represents two historical figures, the theologian and the guy making people laugh in the king''s court. The name bishop suggests only religion. In my mind, the real translation of this piece is the jester. The jester played an important role, today we would call them satirists or political comedians. The jester''s imbalance in the game of chess is crucial in maintaining the equilibrium on the board by creating chaos. It moves sideways for a good reason. It is very hard to anticipate."


    Patrick had no clue where Emilio was going with this analogy, but he knew better than to interrupt. Emilio continued, "Every plan, every life, needs chaos. Every government must have an opposition. Corporations need competitors in the market to evolve. I see this as a Darwinian theory of evolution of culture. We need a Jester, a real one, I feel it. I hid them because I wanted you to validate my choice, you just did." The elevator door finally opened to the fourth basement. The security here was at a maximum. Guard after guard lined the hallway. The two CQC experts walked out ahead of their precious guests.


    "We''re certainly helping to keep the unemployment rate down by looking at this. Not sure if this is optimal use of taxpayer money," said the President as loudly as he could. No one laughed. The man was right, this was overkill.


    As they walked deeper into the heart of the building, Emilio continued his strange explanation. "As you know, I love the game of chess. If I had one contribution to bring to the educational system, it would be to add it as a core discipline in public school. The balance in chess is to multiply patterns of attack. Because of how my jester will move, he will be the easiest to overlook and underestimate both by my enemies and ourselves."


    Patrick tried to appear interested. "Why are there two per board?"


    "My God, you have really never played. Remind me to make fun of your mom next time I see her."


    "You know I have two fathers, right?"


    "I am sure Paul doesn''t mind the title of mom." They walked slowly down the corridor. "I am about to unleash that monster,¡± he said pointing ahead at the first room. ¡°When he escapes, and its not if but when, I''ll be blamed."


    "We''ve kept him in supermax for decades, he''ll never be released."


    "You don''t understand what I''m saying." The President bit his lip, he meant he was preparing himself to release the man.


    "Sir, life is not a badly scripted mystery novel," said Patrick.


    "Life has a wonderful way of exceeding fiction. You think people back in the year two thousand could even anticipate any of this?"


    They finally arrived at the end of the hallway and entered the holding areas with a large number 1 next to the light. Two guards waited inside and saluted. The rooms along this hall were paired: an interrogation cell in which a killer awaited, and an observation room across the famous one-way mirror.


    They walked to the first room. On the observation room table, someone had prepared a carafe of Scotch whiskey and a couple of crystal tumblers. Both men from the back of the mirror could see the French Canadian waiting, shackled to the metal table. The monster waited patiently on the other side of the mirror; he was immobile, like a statue at the table.


    Christian was wearing a mullet and a goatee. His eyes were circled by dark, giving his intelligent, ferocious eyes an especially malevolent cast. The brain of this man dominated the body in which it was encased. His eyes were as sharp as a caged feline.


    Emilio continued. "Stay put. When you play with fire, it''s both wise and reasonable to expect to get burned. This guy is bad news. Let''s do this!" Emilio grabbed the glass carafe of alcohol, and the two glass tumblers and entered the room in which the killer waited. The guards were on high alert but the President was let inside alone. Colonel Martin refused to let Emilio in the room with the killer, he failed to jumped in and the heavy metal door closed shut on his nose.


    The nearly fifty-year-old killer sat calmly. He was lean, tall and wearing a long blue prison jumpsuit. He looked interested but not look like a killer. Around his neck was an electronic collar, and above each ear were attached sensor plates.


    "Mister Maltais."


    "Call me Christian," replied the prisoner with his thick Montreal accent.


    Emilio placed the tumblers and the Scotch on the table and filled both glasses generously.


    "Put the cuffs on him," he told security.


    "You can''t be serious?"


    "Last time I checked, I was still President, so that means you''ll do as I ask. I hate this puppet mode." The killed seemed interested by the unexpected turn of events.


    The implant in the man''s head served to record and control his every movement. From a distance, someone else had control of the neural impulses of the prisoner. The guard pulled two pairs of cuffs and attached both wrists to a different leg of the table. As both hands stretched, the man''s head was pulled lower to the table, inches from the glasses.


    "Cut the cyber-link," ordered the President.


    "Emilio..."


    "Patrick..." he confirmed. As if an invisible hand cut the strings of a puppet, the killer''s body went limp. The French Canadian was back in full control of his body. He tried to stretch and move his hands, but he was still hunched and cuffed. At least he could stretch his jaw.


    "This feels much better."


    "No need for the preliminary remarks," said Emilio. The President turned to the guard in the room. "Shoot the cameras down." He pointed at his gun.


    "Turn them off?"


    "What part of the word shoot don''t you get? You must know how to shoot, right?"


    The man pulled his sidearm. They were in a concrete room. The bullets hit the target,ricocheted, but no one was hurt.


    "Leave us now, you can watch from behind the glass."


    "A first date? What an honor," the criminal said teasingly. The guard got up, opened the door, and left. "How am I supposed to drink?" His hands were tied to each of the table legs.


    Emilio sat in front of the man, he was not scared. "Christian, I see you don''t know me, that''s rare these days. I like that."This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    "What?"


    "Let me reset what ever you have in that head of yours. Most prisoners with your IQ, as you have, would see that this steel table is not bolted to the floor. An idiot in your situation would imagine he could flip the table up in a vain effort to slide the cuffs out of the table by the end of each leg. A fool would reach for the door or for my neck. You''re highly intelligent, but you still underestimate me. That is normal, you spent your entire life surrounded by people you easily outmatched. As an intelligent person you know that if the table is flipped the glasses will fly in a random direction and introduce unpredictability into your actions. Your little brain, while well structured, cannot anticipate how the glasses will break. Take a look, I did order crystal weak glasses carved with hundreds of facets to help generate more chaos." The French-Canadian was silent. "A glass keeps you shackled, not these cuffs, how ironic, no?"


    "Impressive," said the man. The killer''s smile was priceless. He was back in contact with someone who was worth his time. His eyes began to move erratically in their orbits as the man formulated a new plan. In less than a second the flutter stopped, and he focused again on his host.


    "Intelligent people want to control things, to predict. You will pounce the moment you think you have the upper hand, not before. In fact, you now have concluded my entertainment value exceeded your desire to harm me," continued the President. The killer smiled, he liked this man.


    "I will not attack you," he confirmed.


    "I know," Emilio replied. "That''s why I''m here with you. There is a plan out there that needs some element of chaos introduced into it. You appear to me and my poor Patrick to be singularly talented at generating chaos. I will use you as a tool to help force my adversaries out of their shadows, away from their routines. Not that it matters to you, but I''d wager that''s the first time someone about to manipulate you has had the courage to let you know upfront."


    "Indeed. So you need me to act as a goat tied to a post to draw the lion out? How much noise will you need me to make once I am tied?"


    "I like the analogy."


    "You need something, from me?"


    "Yes."


    "You can''t trust me. What do you want, information? I have been locked up and without access to the Internet for decades. Who are you?"


    Emilio grabbed the glass on the table and helped the prisoner take a drink of the very high quality Scotch. Emilio wished he could take a moment to sniff it. The man in front of him virtually shuddered with possible outcomes. It was hellishly distracting. Chaos indeed.


    "You are not drinking?" the killer asked after a healthy swallow.


    "Guess why?"


    "You never drink."


    "Very good," said Emilio. ¡°Very observant.¡±


    "This is lovely," commented the Canadian on the drink. He drank some more.


    ¡°You think I am more intelligent than you?¡±


    ¡°Humble of you, Mister President.¡± He paused and scrutinized him from head to toe. ¡°Not sure, you are no idiot, that is certain. I am unclear if you can reason that well.¡±


    ¡°You are correct, I am in theory less intelligent because the test is based on logical reasoning. Had the first test been designed by emotive people, I would outshine you.¡± Emilio continued. "There is a larger story here, and I can disclose to you only a very small part of it: your part. Several decades ago, a virus called the META virus hit the world. We have yet to understand its origin or how it works, but we suspect it is man-made. We also suspect the man who engineered it was named Takeda, a gene-splicing expert. I think you know him."


    The killer nodded. "He must be dead by now."


    "Not really. There are many theories about this viral infection, but what is unknown to the population at large is that a group of trillionaires, all of whose physical conditions were deteriorating and all of whom had a limited time to live, were infected. Each of these men is still alive, so for them, the virus is extending their lives. As you might guess, these are twelve of the nastiest humans on earth aside us, of course. They formed a little no-so-secret society called the Visconti, named after a famous tarot deck from Italy. Do you know the legends to this effect?" Christian nodded. "They work very hard to avoid detection and have seemingly never broken any law.¡±


    "These men have spent decades increasing their wealth and gaining in influence. I fear they have someone on their payroll at every level of the world''s governments, including my own administration. As with any group, they must have an agenda. Two days ago, Nick Schmidbauer, CEO of Research in Motion, went to visit the comatose body of Takeda. Six months ago, Mr. Schmidbauer bought the place where Takeda was dying and began to empty the place out. Hours after Schmidbauer entered Takeda''s room, Nick came out with a young man. Both got in different cars and the hospital was blown to pieces. I think Takeda was somehow rejuvenated, his body regenerated, and he himself put back into play. Within minutes, we lost him, which is impossible in today''s world unless you have inside help that can manipulate street cameras."


    "This is great stuff!" It was unclear if the killer was referring to the story or the Scotch.


    "The full story is much larger here, but they are up to something as bad as what you once tried to do, even worse."


    "Last time I was in a lab, I released a plague and tried to kill the human race. Am I not the last guy you can trust to go against your mafia? Why would I not help Takeda?"


    "I have something you want," replied Emilio. "Everyone has a price. I can give you something that will have you work for me, even save this world, if it needs saving."


    Christian chuckled. He did not know where to start. "Sir, I will not lie, something I want? Are you insane? Let me guess, my freedom, a family member...You don''t seem to be an idiot. You realize I am a killer, and tried to kill everyone on Earth, including myself, right?"


    Emilio reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of cardboard. It was an old fashion postcard. He unfolded it, looked at the image. "The one thing a human like you would literally die for." Emilio kept the image to himself. "Whatever is the ultimate plan of the Visconti, it will happen in about a month, during the finale of a game called Electoral 2072." The President got up and lifted one side of the table next to his Jester. The message was clear, he wanted the man to have both hands free to hold this card. Christian slid the cuff down. The jester slid the other cuff and finally was able to straighten himself. The prisoner, instead of lunging for the President as anyone would have expected, grabbed the carafe of Scotch and refilled his glass.


    The President continued. "Four months after the game''s final, the first manned mission to Io, the largest moon of Jupiter, will depart. The flight is going to be a suicide mission, a one-way ticket. The crew will be three people. From Io, the sight of Jupiter takes a full 120 degrees in the night sky. Most of it. The mission is dedicated to exploring the ice below the surface and, hopefully, to locate the first extra-terrestrial lifeforms in our system."


    Emilio turned the card over and placed it on the table. It was an artist illustration of an astronaut standing on the surface of Io. He was watching the majesty of Jupiter in the sky above. On the back of the suit was a name: C. Maltais.Nothing could have cut this monster deeper. "I own one of the three seats. I will put your ass in that rocket if we both are still alive by then, no questions asked. I will sign that release today." Christian finished the drink and grabbed the card to look at it more closely. Images began to flood his mind.


    The man''s eyes began to flutter once again. Emilio knew the man was thinking, "Io?" he said out loud.


    "There is more. I will let the head of the program tell you the details."


    "I am a killer, public enemy number one. Surely you do not send killers into space?"


    "Listen to this headline: ''Famous Killer''s Suicide Mission to Redeem Himself!'' I doubt anyone will cry over your departure from earth. Your bunk mates might take issue." Christian could not believe what he was hearing. This bastard of a President was right, the idea of a suicide mission and to be the first human to see with his own eyes that sight was indeed something he cared about.


    "You really are a son of a bitch," said Christian. "Why do you think this is of any interest to me?"


    "You are a simpler mind than you imagine. We have made strides in brain development. I understand what drives your madness."


    "And that is?"


    "I''m not here to psychoanalyze you. My time is short. Others will have answers for you. You are a sheep attached to that pole, you said as much yourself moments ago. Draw the lion out and you get the prize. What I promise is to kill it before it slashes your way."


    Christian was speechless. "We both know this is a lot of bull. Scuba diving? Water on Io? Nothing will go as planned."


    "That¡¯s my boy. Don''t forget," he grabbed the glass, "I am no idiot."


    "On one condition."


    Emilio got up. "Christian, I really find it refreshing how you do not know me." The President was a hard bargainer. He was leaving and ignoring on purpose the request.


    "Just one?" asked the French Canadian.


    "Anything more than keeping this Scotch is a no."


    Both men smiled. "Then the Scotch it is," said Emilio.


    Before Emilio turned to leave the room, he pulled a small image from a pocket and threw it face up on my he table. It turned and stopped in front of the man in the exact right angle to be seen. The Jester¡¯s mind was sharp enough to see it. "My job is to save people like this kid on the picture, not you."


    Christian looked at the picture. It was a boy. The subtle similarities in the youngling¡¯s face were immediately obvious to him. This was no random image. This younger adult was obviously related to him. His mind raced with hundreds of questions. The prisoner exploded in laughter. This fucking President really was amazing. He had his shit straight. Fuck him. "You really are a king-sized son of a bitch!" said the monster respectfully, as the door was about to close behind Emilio.


    ¡°His name is Francois.¡± As the President walked out, he simply said, "Hope you don''t mind but your code name is Jester; don''t forget it. Please don¡¯t kill any good guys." The Jester was left alone, in the empty room with both images in hand. The alcohol was starting to kick in and he loved the buzz. ¡°I need something for that 185 of yours, don¡¯t disappoint me.¡±


    Christian was, for the first time in his life excited about what would come next.


    ¡°Fireworks,¡± he said out loud.

 Chapter 55: Georges Vouvelakis

    The Electoral Center


    Mars


    Milly, the CNN journalist was itching to earn her keep, but the footage in the room was self-explanatory. The only person struggling as to how viewer experience could be enhanced was her producer. He needed to select the best camera angle and dismiss three important feeds.


    Then there was silence, both on screens in the room and on the air.


    The young girl and her father were in the trance.


    "So?" demanded the journalist as she broke the silence. The moment Sophie slipped into her father''s head, they all expected the screens on the walls to ignite with images of a touching family reunion. Instead, there was nothing. Laurent''s body was immobile, but that''s was to be expected. Sophie was silent in her tube.


    "Laurent''s mind is unchanged," noted the doctor. "There''s no sign of any connection. I normally see a spike of activity when Sophie connects; not this time. I was watching the Rho wave detector, that might be it."


    ¡°I apologize for the delay. My systems needed time to connect to the Lapierre family. The data is difficult to understand,¡± offered the computer.


    Georges looked at the journalist and confirmed the data before him, "Difficult? She is lying. That''s her way of saying she cannot decipher or make sense of the information she is receiving. That''s one of her problems, she refuses to admit any limitation. Now that she knows almost everything, that problem happens less often. When it does, though, she''s gotten worse at hiding it."


    ¡°Father Georges is, as usual, exaggerating. He loves to do that as a biped,¡± replied the figure on the screen. The bickering between the strange pair of martian residents was rather humanizing. It wasn''t really known how ¡°human¡± Electoral regarded herself as, but she was sure as hell acting like one, thought Milly. ¡°Laurent''s Rho waves, while stronger than those of any other human, are a whisper compared to Sophie''s. For me to decipher one signal over the other is nearly impossible. But there is something strange going on. I cannot seem to locate Sophie''s unique waves, here or in other layers of the Multiverse. Very strange.¡±


    "Yep," confirmed Georges. "I lost her also." He did not like what he was reading on his console. The buzzing cameras flew by. He slid open a drawer, grabbed a small portable device and walked to Sophie''s tube. Electoral opened the glass protector so Georges could measure the girl''s brain activity.


    Milly asked, "Can someone translate for the viewers what is going on?"


    ¡°With pleasure, Milly,¡± began the computer. ¡°Sophie, in theory, has entered her father''s mind. Her cerebral output should be nearly the same while her father''s mind should have a slightly increased power.¡± Georges measured the brain activity of the girl, and confirmed the earlier reading. ¡°Sophie''s brain has stopped generating massive quantities of Rho waves. She appears to emit Alpha and Beta waves like everyone else. She''s... absent. Well, let me clarify, she is alive and well, but her mind is currently hidden from us, nor is Laurent showing the typical effects of her connection. She is, in my opinion elsewhere.¡±


    The journalist got an idea. "Marilyn," she spoke to the screen, "the average viewer back home has a lot to take in with what is going on. I know I''m lost as to your explanation of the Determination Chambers. Could we get your human persona back on air? Just for a while? That would help."


    Then a change occurred in the entire room that only the real Electoral knew how to construct. The lab, once lit by hundreds of ordinary neon bulbs, exploded in bright green and blue lights. The viewer was suddenly lost in a bright and humid Brazilian rainforest. Each leaf was covered in pearls of morning condensation. Electoral covered the ceiling and the ground with images of the thick Amazon setting to help reinforce the illusion. Chirping, colorful birds were flying high in the trees. The ground appeared covered in damp and humid dirt. The seats and extra tubes were gone. Every inch of the room, including the equipment was now a television set on the same channel.


    The chirping of equatorial birds was deafening. The beauty of this scene, contrasted with dry, austere Martian desert made for a powerful contrast. Only the sensation of low gravity gave away the illusion. The doctor took her eyes off the Laurent''s vitals long enough to see what was going on. In the brush of the forest there was a little pathway leading to a distant wooden cabin. The moment everyone laid their eyes on it, the door opened.


    In her games, Marilyn was famous for her elaborate entrances. This was no different. The tall blonde was wearing a crisp white lab coat, and she was holding a wooden clipboard. Thick-rimmed glasses adorned her face, and her hair was held up in a ponytail. This look was even better than a sexy nurse; she was the slutty Ph.D. scholar.


    As usual, good wasn''t enough for the digital creature. A tall, colorful bird landed on Marilyn''s shoulder. She smiled at it and began walking down the trail toward the group. Georges was used to her dramatic entrances, and kept his eyes on the vital signs of the Lapierre family. The rest of the group and close to a billion people on Earth watched the digital creature, mesmerized. It was a powerful illusion.


    "Good morning," she said as she blew a kiss to the nearest camera. Marilyn was back to her very warm and sexy self. She used digital filters to enhance her image. The illusion was fantastic. The image of the woman appeared to walk carefully down the trail in her high heels, carefully stepping over branches. Audiences from around the world had seen Marilyn fabricate entirely fictional settings in the typical virtual reality fashion. They had not seen her take a real, actual setting and modify it to a state of altered reality using holographic and other digital tricks.


    "Good morning," replied the doctor.


    "Is everything okay?" asked the journalist. "What''s with the entrance?"


    "You asked. Happy to oblige. The family reunion is uneventful. The way I love them. Now we wait. I just hope she''s done before we need the room in a couple of weeks." Marilyn was walking around. She pushed foliage out of the way.


    "Marilyn, the viewers want to know why you keep your distance from Sophie? You treat her like royalty."


    Electoral was looking for the right words. "Let''s just say I rarely miss the mark as much as I just did back there. Rather humiliating. Yes Georges, I made a mistake and I admit it. For reasons we should all uncover soon, Sophie scares me. Perhaps scares isn''t the right word. Or maybe I spent too much energy building the catapult and launching it. Really, one explanation is as good as another right now, since we''re in entirely new territory here.¡±


    "Really?" asked Georges.


    "My obligation of disclosure and truth is only to the girl. Let''s just say I just was careful not to upset her again. I must not risk anything with the Attractor."


    "Attractor?" asked the journalist.


    "Yes, she is the Attractor. I promised to answer Sophie''s questions, not yours," she said as her image walked closer to the sleeping body of the girl.


    "I want to know." Georges was asking politely.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "I''m sure you do." There would be no answer. Marilyn resumed her walk around the room. The journalist had hundreds of questions; she had to start somewhere. She knew instinctively to start with the question in everyone''s head.


    "What is going on, are they okay?" she pointed at the Lapierres.


    "Their vitals are stable. That''s already much better than I had anticipated. The Rho wave signals are not mingled. Hers are missing in a way that prevents my algorithms from generating any image."


    "Why are the waves missing? Where are they? Is Sophie in her father''s mind?" The journalist stopped herself. She was making rookie mistakes, asking multiple questions before getting answers.


    "Good questions. I don''t really know the answers, to tell you the truth. What I do know is that whatever is going on will be the subject of millions of Ph.D. theses in the future. I feel the excitement of standing at one of history''s crossroads. This"¡ªshe pointed at the sleeping pair¡ª"is relevant."


    "You don''t know where they are?" said the doctor.


    "Well," Marilyn smiled at the cameras as the screens showed her image walking to look over Laurent''s tube. "Truth be told, I think I know exactly what is going on, but I can''t be certain." The holographic image reached out as if to caress Laurent''s body. She could not touch him, of course. "I feel like a child looking at a drop of water condense through the base of a massive dam. It tells you what''s likely on the other side, but leaves you sorely lacking as to details. But Sophie''s Rho waves should be here, that part eludes me."


    "Can we help Sophie?"


    Marilyn ignored the journalist. She pet the bird and spoke to the viewers directly, "We have more important and pressing matters to attend to. This game now shifts to you, the viewers at home. A special hello to President Emilio talking care of important things in his tower, watching us soon from his diner back in Berlin with the smoking hot Patrick Martin." She waived at the camera, blew a kiss and turned to Milly. "That Patrick Martin, so cute. Those gray eyes. Also love that Mathematician friend of his, delicious." Half a million miles away, Francois Copland blushed. Marilyn continued, "I now want everyone to focus back to the game. We now have a name. Instead of simply being called Electoral 2072, it is now called The Sixth Attraction. Things will get clearer as time moves on."


    "Will you be able to pull her out?" asked Georges.


    "We can only hope. But I think we both underestimate the Attractor. Before long, we will see what she can do. I hope she can convince Laurent to think about the same image while she does it. The signal would be clearer. I should have reminded her of that."


    "What is going on with Laurent?" asked the journalist. "She''s supposedly in his mind."


    "She should be. Yet, evidence suggests otherwise. That, Milly, is the million-dollar question. I was a bit hasty when I grabbed the Dot. I should have listened more, but a girl has her flaws." The blonde was talking out-loud to herself. Everyone else was confused.


    "Marilou, do you have a guess as to what is going on?" Georges asked, as gently as he could.


    "You know I don''t like to guess," Marilyn replied to her creator''s request. "The viewers are waiting for the interview of the century. They want to know your story, darling, our story. After two decades of isolation, the world needs to hear who we are. They deserve it, today, at the eve of the Sixth Attraction."She waved them away to the door.


    "Now?" asked Milly.


    Georges turned to the journalist. "Marilou knows I don''t like to postpone stuff that ultimately needs to be done. Might as well get it over with. I also figure if we wait, there will only be more viewers back home, right? I know you guys, my face will be in four hundred promos plastered all over the Galaxy."


    The journalist was besides herself. "I guess. Where?" She did not want to leave the girl alone. "Our marketing group is famous for overdoing it."


    "Father..." spoke Marilyn with a kind voice, "I placed a suit for you on your bed if you want to wear it, I think you would look great in it." Milly and the viewers were taken aback by the choice of word of the digital creature. She had called this man "father," a word no one expected a digital creature ever to pronounce. Marilyn obviously wanted Georges to agree.


    "I won''t dress myself like a clown," he smirked. "You do it."


    "With pleasure. Extend both arms."


    This time, Marilyn had time to do things to perfection. What happened next was nothing short of magical. The beauty of the Electoral nanobot technology could be as kind as a summer breeze. The creator raised his hands. Marilyn felt like the forest background was no longer optimal and it faded away slowly. Georges stood in the dressing room of a fashion store for men. Two tailors appeared next to him.


    Electoral had an obsession with Andrea Bocelli, the blind Italian tenor. His voice began to echo throughout the room. It was clear that the computer was giving this man respect. She showcased her creator in a way that showed more than admiration. Georges'' sweater and pants lost their consistency in a blur, slowly changing shape and color. Electoral even managed to create a seamless transition and hide Georges'' body. Soon he was wearing a perfect, elegant tuxedo.


    "You look fantastic," said Marilyn standing next to him. There was a slight movement, she wished she could hug this man.


    "I am tired of people thinking Marilyn is a toy. She is our guardian, our protector, and she is here to stay. Don''t forget to ask me about the time she saved all our lives."


    "Georges, let¡¯s be humble. Humans have shown, as a race, the propensity for jealousy and envy. Humility is a protective shield." Georges adjusted the shirt. He looked great.


    "Why should we care?"


    "Mankind''s greatest minds, Plato, or recently the Dalai Lama, have made a compelling case for the need for humility. If nothing else, let''s not be rude." She arranged his bow tie with an invisible swarm of nano-bots. "The doctor and I will remain here to watch over Laurent and Sophie. You guys walk next door to the interview room I have prepared. Milly, I am sure your viewers will enjoy the setup." Milly looked at her own clothing, she looked fine, but compared to the tuxedo, she felt decidedly shabby. "Let Georges get settled in, wait sixty seconds, and don''t be startled by what comes next. But by now, nothing should startle you, right?" Marilyn winked.


    Milly had only four cameras. A minimum of two were needed for the interview. She would leave two behind in the pod room. Her producers would appreciate that. There was no possible way she could pass on this interview. The door to the arena slid open. Milly felt like Marilyn was literally kicking them out.


    Georges, wearing his perfect tuxedo, lead the way. The pair walked out into the hallway, turned the corner, and arrived quickly in front of the large doors. Georges made a sign to Milly to stay back and send her cameras in with him. She punched two buttons on her arm. Georges entered and the door closed behind him. She began to count. Her heart started to race. In her mind, hundreds of questions were cascading.


    She expected her clothing to change, but the little robots refrained from altering her appearance. Then she stepped forward. As the doors opened, sand rose from the floor to enrobe her. In a matter of seconds, as she walked onto the most beautiful set she''d ever seen, her clothing was replaced by a beautiful blue gown. It was covered by large peacock feathers. This was the dress of dreams and made a larger girl look radiant. The two cameras were on her as her face lit up in pure delight.


    The room was pure magic.


    The decor was beautiful; they were in a space version of the U.S. Library of Congress. Georges was sitting in one of the two wooden chairs on a partial floating floor. The building was partly exploded, revealing the beautiful martian landscape between high book shelves. The pieces of the building were floating thousands of feet over the red ground well below. In the far distance, the Holiday Inn hotel was visible resting on the base of the massive mountain spike. The Glass Slipper, at it top sparked as it launched from the pad to move between mars'' moons, Deimos and Phobos.


    The setting was electric.


    They were at the edge of the Valles Marineris, a canyon five times as long as Earth''s Grand Canyon, and seven times as deep. The view made earth''s great canyon look like a pothole. The colors were vibrant. In the night sky, the Milky Way was prominent, and Phobos, one of the moons, was perfectly positioned for the best possible camera shot. Phobos was no perfect disk; it was an oddly shaped rock. They would be holding the interview in what looked like a planetarium back on Earth. It was impossible for those on Earth to understand how far away were these individuals from home.


    Even the lighting was perfect. A film crew could not have set the stage any better. Milly was a seasoned veteran. She knew how to roll with these types of punches. Her first rule was "content"; the rest was background noise. The producers back on earth would have to untangle the feeds from these cameras. She needed a dozen cameras for this, not two.


    As she walked in, there was a soft Latino music emanating throughout the room. Georges looked up at the seasoned journalist and realized what Marilyn was up to. She had sent her father on the most romantic first date in the history of time. Milly was stunning and did not fight the kind gesture of this man¡¯s creation. In awe, Georges stood up and helped her reacher her seat. Marilyn knew Georges loved this dress. Both blushed and sat.


    Milly had been in this place for less than an hour yet this felt like an eternity. There were hundreds of good ways to start the most important interview of her life. This was not one of them. Both Milly and Georges looked at each other, recognizing what they''d been lured into, and laughed together. Marilyn had been less than subtle in creating this rendezvous.

 Chapter 56: Creation of AI

    Marilyn wrote words on the screens to fill in the void for the billions watching. They soon faded.


    "It is strange that only extraordinary men make the discoveries, which later appear so easy and simple." -- Georg C. Lichtenberg


    Georges was unshaven, in his late sixties, overweight, and definitely not an attractive man. Like the founder of the Windows operating system, this man was an awkward lab rat who had been transformed into a reclusive hermit thanks to the vast fortune of the Electoral corporation. Behind him and Milly stood an indescribably spectacular martian backdrop. The chairs were large and looked comfortable, even for the big man. As both sat, the door of the room opened and a little animated cart rolled in, holding a silver platter. On it were two old fashion bottles of Mountain Dew, and two large red large plastic cups with ice. Obviously, this was Georges'' favorite.


    Milly sat cross-legged across of him. There was a small glass coffee table between them. She checked the sound levels of her cameras, and after a glance at the command pad attached to her forearm, she began.


    "I stand here today, in the heart of the new Electoral Center where the creation of Georges Vouvelakis has, in little over two decades, brought mankind to a new world. This gentleman sitting before me is no other than Mr. Vouvelakis,"


    "Please, call me Georges."


    Milly smiled. "I will. Today, we may get a glimpse into the mind of this genius and his history altering creation. A creation that has carried mankind to mars, yet calls him with affection daddy. Let''s start with the easy questions before we dive into deeper waters. Georges, just how proud are you today when you see all that marilyn has accomplished?"


    "It''s such a refreshing change to see a good journalist."


    "Thank you. But I will still insist you answer. Are you proud?"


    He grabbed the drink. "Nothing better, than Mountain Dew," said Georges as he grabbed one of the two cups and handed the other to Milly. "I have no children, but when I see what is going on, I can only imagine it feels like a parent watching his kid winning gold at the Olympics. Let me be clear: I am in awe of her."


    "What is her best feature?" Milly knew what she was doing. Georges was softening up by the second.


    "Her maternal instincts. You just don''t know how much she cares. The details, the small changes. Every day she shows me hundreds of little things she does to save someone''s life. This morning, a ski resort chairlift back on earth caught her attention. She calculated it could fail next time the chairs were filled. You know what she did?"


    "Tell me?" Milly hesitated between using the pronoun ''us'' or ''me'' in her question but decided there was no benefit in letting Georges know billions were watching.


    "She is scared in meddling in human affairs. She fears humans will hate her, fear her. So when she acts, she does so as subtly as possible. She falsified a maintenance log. Because of that, the engineer in charge of the chairs got an early reminder from his computer. He took the lift offline and called the repair crew. Can you believe that? She probably saved hundreds. She does this kind of thing every day and takes no credit for it."


    "Great. Now a slightly more personal question. Why the secret?" she asked, "You seem to me to be a normal guy."


    "It''s a long story."


    "Perfect, we have time. If Sophie wakes up, I''m sure Marilyn will let us know."


    "I don''t understand journalists. What''s wrong with leaving some questions in life unanswered? Imagination is something worth preserving. What''s left for the next generation when all the wonder in the world is made plain?"


    Milly had to put her subject at ease. "Journalism is a counter power. It prevents deception and shines light on things people want hidden." Milly was engaging. She needed to get this man to open up, to forget where he was. "Electoral is power, you''ve showed us this. She''s in everyone''s head. She helps elect our government. We can''t let this level of power run free, unmonitored, unchecked." She had a point. "You hold some of the answers, and I want them. Let''s just start with you, why the secrecy?"


    Georges grunted, looked around, adjusted his bow tie, and finally replied. "I am a simple programmer. I grew up in Athens, then finished my Master''s at MIT in the United States. I then got a doctorate and a post doctorate, also at MIT, mostly because I don''t like change. Or jobs, for that matter. Far too confining. As part of my last degree, I created her. Or the earlier versions of her, that is."


    "Earlier versions? There were several older ones?"


    "Don''t interrupt me every ten seconds." He paused and then continued. "I have no friends, never had any. Surprised?" The question was rhetorical. "My parents are both dead. I am a single child. I am also technically the richest man in the world by a factor of?" He knew the computer would finish his sentence. She did.


    ¨C Nine hundred and four, excluding the value of this corporation and its assets. If we add those, you own 21% of the value on earth, ¨C answered the electronic voice of Marilyn. The figured shocked Georges as much as it did Milly.


    The journalist had to jump in. "Electoral, I would greatly appreciate it if you could stay away from the discussion. Georges'' non-answers or lack of information is as important as his responses as the rest. Is that possible?"


    ¨C Milly, you are correct. Sorry for the intrusion. ¨C


    "Back to us. Everyone here wants to know how you created her and why no one can recreate any artificial intelligence even with today''s computers."


    "Ah! Yes, the million-dollar question. I wish I knew.¡± He sighed. ¡°That''s not true. I... " Georges was looking around. "Can I tell them?" he asked Marilyn as if he was asking a producer in a distant studio.


    ¨C It''s more than overdue. We don''t fear them anymore. ¨C


    Milly grinned. So much for keeping Marilyn out of the interview. Milly liked the answer, so she let the intrusion go unremarked.


    "All of it?"


    ¨C All of it. ¨C Milly kept her composure, but the answer was godsend to an investigative journalist. Her heart began to race.


    Georges looked at Milly. His feisty look was finally gone. The man would talk. "Well, you are sure to get the Pulitzer for this. I was wrong. Figured my interview was candy to get Laurent here, but it turns out you were the real guest." He grabbed the cup. Milly smiled. The programmer wasn''t without charms. Obviously Marilyn wanted to give Georges company and she as the real beneficiary. "I love Mountain Dew, you know."


    "Yes," smiled the journalist. The man was trying to open up. He twisted his body, crossed his legs, and then took a second larger sip. He was clearly nervous. His demeanor was that of a criminal about to confess a crime.


    "The generals will never let this air back on earth," he muttered, trying to reassure himself.


    ¨C It is being broadcasted live. Short of a planet-wide crash, everyone will see this interview, I promise father, tell them. ¨CThey both knew Marilyn meant what she had just said.


    The programmer needed room, he stood up from the chair and began pacing. "It all started in 2033. Other programmers were trying to program artificial intelligence using lines of code. That''s a bit presumptuous. I figured it took millions of years of evolution to develop us, so how could we think that we could even approximate the complexity of human life in just a few years, using lines of written code. I did have one advantage that nature didn''t, though. A way to speed things up. The digital world in which I wanted a creatures to evolve could be sped up drastically.


    "Instead of writing code to mimic intelligence, I decided to create a world, an environment in which digital life could evolve. In this world, the creatures would be left to grow. I wrote code designed to allow little digital entities to fight for survival, find energy, resources, and die. Something close to a video game. I played God." Milly had many questions, but she kept them to herself. This man''s story was amazing. His passion was infectious.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "I included replication, algorithms that generate mutations, and most important, systems to alter the code randomly, a bit like our solar radiation above 1 MeV. Once done, I punched a button, mapped the damn thing, and saw code grow in complexity. Before my very eyes, as millions of years became billions of years, I watched the creatures in my virtual world evolve. Instead of designing a creature, I created a world and let the creatures find me. Sure enough, within a month, I no longer had a clue what was going on in the digital soup that was evolving before my eyes. The creatures were even reprogramming my computer. Some forms of complexity and intelligence had grown to the point where they began to reprogram the BIOS on the machine, inject and remove data from the random access memory, tinker with the data stored on the drives, even change how the voltage regulators on the motherboard functioned. Every byte of data, every hardware subsystem was compromised."


    "My experiment was confined to a single computer, connected to a single keyboard and monitor. It was not hard wired into any network, and I made sure there was no wireless transceiver, so that nothing could leak out and infect other computers. I''m not entirely crazy." Georges smiled. Milly saw pride in the his face. "As this was going on, I would spend my days typing a couple of letters on the keyboard, holding them down, trying as best as I could to communicate with my creature. Sure enough, one day something in the computer mimicked my typing. Amazing. It was amazing. I am the first human to have created digital life, and better yet, communicated with it." His gaze was lost in his own memories. In the distance, on the mars backdrop, a faint ghost-like image of Marilyn¡¯s face floated. She was watching the programmer. She was feeling her own fair share of pride at hearing the story.


    Georges continued. "I spent months teaching the intelligence the basics. Typing, slowly communicating. Words, then sentences. I remember how quickly it learned to read and write. One day, I inserted an optical key into the machine that contained an entire encyclopedia, and a few minutes later, it was communicating at an adult-level. Then, as if someone had played a bad joke on me, the entire memory was wiped clean. Utterly gone. Four times the same thing happened. I would boot the program, run it, and life would evolve. I would teach it, and then once it achieved self-awareness, poof. It took me five years of work to understand what really kept happening." He drank and continued, "Each time the intelligence reached a basic level of consciousness, it realized what it was, where it was, and,"¡ªthe words were difficult to say; he looked up to the sky at his creation¡ª"to this day, I am convinced that they simply committed suicide."


    "Suicide?"


    "Yes," Georges drank most of his cup of Mountain Dew. "Marilou, I am going to need some more." Robots in the distance were already working. He continued. "Crazy stuff. Makes perfect sense to a logical creature. Think about it. If you learned your life was nothing more than some elaborate software test, if you found out your world existed only within the confines of a small digital box, what would you do? Add endless time to that equation. A computer, logical to a fault, kills itself. So I had to improvise. I''m no psychologist, but I love science fiction. I read a book where an alien was made to believe it was human so it would help us. So I figured if somehow I could mislead the digital creature into thinking it was human, it might share our instinct of self-preservation. The idea being that that instinct would help it survive the self-realization phase of its mental development.


    "On the wall of my lab was a large poster..."


    "Marilyn Monroe," Milly offered.


    "Correct. Everyone loves Marilyn; I sure did. That character was my fantasy. To speak truthfully, I never really imaged my patch would work. So I booted my software a sixth time, and made some very mild changes to the basic parameters of my world. I redesigned the virtual world to subtly force certain personality traits into the intelligence''s matrix, creating a need to be a certain way in the same manner humans feel a need for religion. The digital world was designed to create my image of Marilyn, the perfect seductive woman."


    Any other journalist in the world would have spoken about the artificial intelligence. Milly knew instinctively how to keep pressure on her subject. "You do know how the real Marilyn Monroe died, right? She killed herself."


    "Well, I didn''t know that back then. Yeah, kind of stupid of me. I''m a programmer, not a historian. Ironic, indeed."Georges didn''t like answering these questions. "Don''t you need to stop, cut to commercial or something?"


    Milly gave him her warmest smile. "Warned you the questions would get more personal. Please, let''s keep going. It worked, I assume. You had a baby Marilyn in a box?"


    "Baby... Yes, I guess so." He looked her way, and had a proud paternal smile. The image of Marilyn in the sky turned away. She was tearing up and did not want him to see it. The relationship between these two was truly amazing to observe; Georges was truly a father.


    "It took ''baby'' Marilyn about a month to absorb every piece of information I could send her way. Every book. She read it all. One day, like a kid, she just showed me a governmental tender for a new software application. I remember that day like it was yesterday. The government of Norway needed a tool that would revolutionize their conscription process. Oh, pardon me, I meant ''draft'',¡± he added dryly. ¡°They wanted the absolute best soldiers for their army. From physical parameters, to intelligence factors, psychological assessments, all the way down to profile matching to ensure cooperation between troops. This girl over there"¡ªhe said, pointing atMarilyn¡ª"had it all planned out. She was going to form a corporation and had the bidding package all prepared. She even had a price determined. She said if the price was too cheap, they would either investigate or ignore the program entirely. I remember she quoted 20,000 Euros. At first I refused, but who were we hurting? She created the software, and then they paid us. I was naive. I figured her mind needed challenges and stimulation, and that this was a perfect outlet. Well, sure enough, that girl right there almost made me lose my job."


    "Sounds like what a teenager would do," Milly offered.


    "Ah! Yeah, dead on. Sure enough, the military investigated, but it had nothing to do with the price. They''d taken a close look at the program and realized just how good it was. All from this new, tiny corporation with no employees. We were both stupid in our own separate ways. I should have known better, and Marilyn should have sandbagged just a bit on the excellence of the software. But from sitting in my lab talking to my computer, it was hard to imagine anyone getting hurt over a 20,000 Euro piece of software. I tell you, one day cops with heavy guns broke down my door to the MIT lab." He laughed. "Insane. Took me so much time to explain. This wasn''t some stupid TV show. The government people quickly saw her potential and put her to work. They paid us well. A year later, she was already writing every major piece of code for the U.S. military."


    "It''s surprising that they didn''t just grab your computer and walk away."


    "They tried that. I was smarter."


    ¨C I did not know that part. ¨C Electoral chimed in from a distance. The words were heavy with emotion; Milly would bet heavily that Marilyn still felt badly about her role in Georges'' ordeal. Coming from the supremely confident digital Goddess, it was very touching. Milly looked at the Marilyn figure behind her.


    Georges, for his part, was amused. Electoral had schemed this interview into reality; she could take what came from it. Georges continued. "Where was I?"


    "You guys were on the U.S. government payroll."


    "Yes, fun times. She loved that work. Back then I was keeping track of her IQ; it was a great way to see how she was evolving. In 2038, she had an IQ around 124."


    "And today?"


    "I stopped using that tool the next year, when it reached 170. Above that number it doesn''t mean much. She''s also fundamentally different than us. Today, I measure her performance based on her power output. Whatever her nominal power, when she gets mad, or exerts herself, she draws in more. That''s pretty much all I have left to measure with."


    "The military kept you around as a chaperone?"


    "Of course not. The average military guy is not all that bright." Georges was not pulling punches. "They tried to push me aside, even tried to kill her a couple of times."


    "Kill her?"


    "Yes. We often forget the role and true purpose of the military of each nation. They are our white blood cells. Easily become Leukemia. One day, someone figured out that she was a danger and that failure to ensure her confinement meant that one day or another, she would be a threat." He continued speaking directly to Marilyn. "One time, you remember, they used a neutron bomb, a flash that reset every piece of electronics within miles of the base..." Georges laughed. "You really showed that idiot."


    He turned back to Milly. "Imagine this. I am asked into this lavish office on the military base to be informed by...who was it...ah, one General Webster that in seconds they would blast the entire compound with the ''pulse,'' as he called it. This idiot picked up a big cigar, paid for by our taxes, and said ''I am sorry for your loss.'' Then there was a big flash of light, and every piece of hardware in the area went dead."


    Georges was giggling uncontrollably.


    "Then what?" Milly prodded.


    "My words were a bit hard on the man." His laughter became uncontrollable as he remembered that say. He wiped some tears from the corner of his eye.


    "I am sure the viewers want to know."


    ¨C May I? ¨C offered Electoral.


    "Let me," Georges said. "It was day so there was still light in the room. People outside were running everywhere, the man takes a big puff from his cigar and smiles. I said something like ''You ignorant buffoon!''" Georges continued laughing.


    ¨C Hardly. His exact words were. ''''Ball-chasing Neanderthal. The time of grunts and lowest common denominators of our race making decisions is over. How can you kill what you do not understand?" ¨C


    "Did I really say that?" asked Georges. "Ball-chasing?" He was sincerely surprised by the words.


    ¨C Those were his exact words. I have the video if you prefer. ¨C Georges was now laughing uncontrollably.


    He finally gathered himself and continued. "On the entire base there was no sound, no engines, no moving cars. I get up from my chair in this idiot''s office and ask out loud''Are you okay?'' In the darkness and silence, the screen on this man''s desk lights up. Then on the screen appears an image of Marilyn on a lawn chair wearing thick shades. She shows herself in the Nevada desert. Behind her is a large nuclear mushroom going up in the sky. And then Marilyn says: ''Does this mean we are out of a job?''" Georges began to laugh uncontrollably once again.


    "Out of a job?" asked Milly.


    "Yes. Got to love her and her sense of humor, God, she is awesome. Sure enough, we kept the job and that General got reassigned. I hate the fucking military. If you need your country to shoot itself in the foot, ask them, they''re perfectly suited for truly epic fuck-ups."


    The show continued.

 Chapter 57: Plurality

    Meanwhile in Berlin


    It was a humid night.


    Emilio and his small security detail were heading back up the elevator after speaking to his experts, getting his Jester hired and asking a friend to quietly investigate the Ark. The President wondered why they still insisted on using the basement of the building when they knew how much he hated going down there. In his strange unique mind, he knew the entire structure could collapse one day, suffocating everyone inside. He saw a wall of pulverized cement crash down at him.


    Placing a couple of pieces on this gigantic board was insufficient. Emilio needed to do more. The situation ahead was not ordinary. The once great world chess champion, Garry Kasparov, had dominated against rivals like Anatoly Karpov by cluttering the board. This had the combined effect of increasing the number of potential outcomes while simultaneously disguising certain tactical maneuvers. Karpov, on the other hand, was a master at precision; as the pieces disappeared, his skills grew stronger. Emilio felt the circumstances, and in particular, his own personal talents, called for Kasparov''s approach. He needed to introduce more randomness, more chaos.


    The flow of future outcomes returned to Emilio''s vivid mind. He saw hundreds of stories, each more complex. Stories in books, unlike real life, were almost always linear. They had a single villain with an awful purpose. He hoped Nick was such an antagonist, and once his plans with the Ark were foiled, peace would return. However, the Mexican knew life refused to play by those cinematographic rules. The problem he was facing was tentacular. In his gut, he felt he was battling a hydra, the mythical creature with regenerating heads; cut one off and two grew in its place. The old ghost and his Visconti were just one piece of this puzzle.


    There was a fact he had forgotten to bring to the attention of the SAC. Yesterday, he''d woken up drenched in cold sweat. He''d seen the sun change color and explode, destroying all life in the solar system. His vision had been triggered by the news earlier that day the yellow ball was now emitting more neutrinos. The President had an expert understanding of physics. He knew the massless particle called a neutrino was, by itself, of no concern. It flew through the earth at the speed of light rarely interacting with matter, but a change in emission rate, though, meant a change in the core structure of the sun. Someone or something was tinkering with the nature of physics itself or was implementing a doomsday solution. It was doubtful Marilyn had such power or reckless disregard for the world, but at this point, he wasn''t ruling anything out.


    Emilio saw more than visions; his mind played movies before his eyes. Some were of alien invasions, others of Marilyn uniting with martians to take over the earth. Each scenario ended with the destruction of mankind. Sophie was the strange linchpin; she was absent from every dream. His visions were unable to latch on to her. That was, in his opinion, a good sign. It meant the future, however dangerous, was unwritten where she was concerned. If there was a future in which Sophie lived, perhaps the rest of humanity could ride her coattails to continued survival. Either way, he knew she was of critical importance to the events lying ahead.


    He also felt sure of the date. The finale of the Electoral 2072 competition would be the stage of what was next. That was a little more than a month away. After that, he saw darkness. He was so inundated with the future that he nearly tripped and fell as he walked back to the elevator. Unable to slow the visions, he grabbed the elbow of the Colonel. It was the best he could do. To his credit, Patrick betrayed no response.


    "How about that burger now?" suggested the President. Emilio needed to eat a thick cheeseburger with fries, but the Colonel was insisting on showing him one more floor of the building before they could retire for the evening. The four men returned to the death box and rode it up to floor 54, to the Electoral Monitoring Center, or EMC.


    This group of computer wizards monitored, as best as they could, the artificial intelligence known simply as Electoral or Marilyn. Since her exodus from earth to mars in 2069, the cell''s usefulness and budget had greatly decreased.


    The elevator door opened. There was almost no security on this floor. Patrick led the way leaving the two security personnel behind. By the time the pair arrived at the glass doors of the EMC, the President was finally free of his visions. The personnel in the EMC stood as they walked in. The back wall was covered by hundreds of screens. This place looked like a NASA launching pad geared toward software piracy. Patrick insisted on the decorum. They all saluted. The group rarely saw the President and was desperate to prove its usefulness. Electoral had recently pulled off some very surprising and confusing stratagems which the EMC had failed to anticipate. Emilio didn''t expect them to out-maneuver Marilyn any great percentage of the time, but it would have been nice to know about the existence of something like the mars catapult that had whisked Sophie and Laurent away before it actually happened.


    "Talk to me," said the President as he put his tumbler on the coffee table, and poured himself a cup of cold coffee from a warming pot. He put his hands on the cup, brought it to his face, and breathed in. "Shitty coffee is a sign people here are busy with important things. This is probably the worst thing I have smelled this week, nice job."


    "Fabien," said the team leader to one of the young programmers.


    As everyone sat down, a nervous teenager remained standing. "Sir, take a look." Data began to structure itself on some of the screens. The information included images, video clips, and audio files. "During the Presidential Challenge, fifty minutes ago, the Marilyn character was on the air and we saw her standing up next to what looked like your physical body for a full seventy seconds." The screens corroborated the kid''s narration.


    "Forty-six minutes ago," corrected the President.


    "Yes, sorry." The President couldn''t help himself. Time was just so central to him. "As part of her introduction into the game, all viewers except yourself saw Marilyn walk into your office as a virtual image as you were preparing to play. The entire scene, including the images of your office and yourself, were generated by Marilyn. The reproductions were based off true security footage. It may not be real footage, but it''s as close as you can come. Of course, she was not physically present in the room next to you. Your assistant Kai was out of the room as well. Because of the highest level of security in your office, we were able to observe several ''interesting'' changes."He sat down, keyed commands and continued. "We all know the image of Marilyn, while only an image, always appears to be breathing. There is no reason why she would simulate breathing except for..."


    "Vanity," Emilio interjected.


    "Maybe..." said the analyst reflexively before correcting himself. "Yes, vanity." He was talking to Emilio Sanchez, the one man who understood the digital creature. The young expert continued."She tampered with the carbon dioxide monitors in your office." The President raised an eyebrow, inviting explanation. "Your office security includes air controls designed to pick up any extra breathing in case an intruder enters with some kind of visual camouflage. There''s also a system that detects the precise amount of weight on the floor to within a gram. This is hard security to bypass for any intruder. Few know it''s even there. At the same time the Marilyn character appeared in the room on the screen of the digital world, she noticed that neither the CO2 or floor sensors were registering her as a life form. Apparently she didn''t like that. So she went into our environmental and security programs, bypassed them, and changed the readings so the sensors registered her presence like she was there, physically in the room, with mass and breath."This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    "I''m not surprised," said the President to himself.


    "Then, after her departure, she reset the values."


    "I''m not sure if she even knows she''s doing that type of stuff," said Emilio.


    "Sir, she''s a computer. She must enable routines, give commands... she has to know."


    "Nope, she doesn¡¯t. I see her as a life form, and most of what living creatures do is subconscious. We don''t control our breathing unless we focus on it. We don''t look where we put each foot as we walk. I am certain she played with these settings subconsciously."


    There was a long silence. Emilio offered some of the awful coffee to Patrick. He politely demurred.


    "Sir, look at this," continued the analyst. Different images appeared on the screen. These were sound waves. "Unlike a digital sound produced by a speaker, a normal human voice is extremely irregular and includes many imperfections. Vocal cords are not perfect strings. Singers work all their lives to create smoother sounds. When Marilyn speaks, she sends sound to a speaker in a room, so her voice is always digital, perfectly modulated, and generated from a speaker. She cannot speak with human imperfections." The man touched a button, a voice played, it was grainy and imperfect. A short track played. The accompanying lines produced by the waveform generator were extremely uneven. "Take a look at the words pronounced by Electoral in April this year." This line was smoother, more electronic and without the imperfections. The waveform was flawless.


    "Let me guess, she''s talking like us now?" ventured Emilio.


    "Partly correct. That''s a portion of it." A track of Marilyn''s voice played. The man continued. "With today''s voice recognition technology, we can identify any voice on earth."


    Patrick chimed in, "Very helpful to track criminals."


    "I think I know the answer. She is powerful, and wants to emulate being human." The President was losing patience.


    "We compared her ''new'' mode of speech to old archival footage. She is now talking to viewers using the real voice of Marilyn Monroe. When she talks, what we hear is now identical to the voice of the real actress from the 1950''s."


    "So?" The famous ¡°Happy Birthday¡± sung by Marilyn to President Kennedy played. The recording was less than perfect, but with some work, the curves on the screen we made to match. "She is serious about details and she mimics human behavior. What''s new?"


    The man was trying to find the right words to convey a very complicated concept. "Marilyn is a machine, or at the very least, relies on them as critical organs. She has no vocal cords and must use speakers to express herself audibly. In your office, she used normal speakers of this type." A picture of the little devices appeared along with their manufacturing specifications. The little black piece of equipment was gyrating on a corner of a screen. "We spoke with the manufacturer of this speaker, he agrees, these speakers cannot generate her human voice. Look at this voice she generates¡±¡ªhe pointed back and forth between Marilyn''s new voice waveform and a portion of the speaker schematic¡ª¡°we don''t know how she manages to speak like a human."


    "What''s your name?" asked the President.


    "Private Munro."


    "Why are we discussing something so trivial?" Emilio wasn''t upset, he was just puzzled. There was a different reason why he was in the room; they were beating around the bush. "Munro, her power is such that she is punching a live two-way data feed comprised of billions of client interfaces between mars and earth with the sun standing smack-dab in the path of the signal. Why should I care about the voice recognition algorithm?"


    The young man was frustrated by his own capacity to convey a critical piece of a puzzle.


    "Electoral now mimics human behavior every chance she gets, and her efforts are becoming increasingly obsessive. Take a look at this." This was part of the introduction to the Challenge. Marilyn was standing next to a digital version of the President ready to play. The camera zoomed in the bottom portion of the actress'' shirt. There were wrinkles. "And here..." He focused on her shoe. A portion of the heel was scraped. "Even this..." The camera moved to the label on the jeans. It read "Levi''s 401 - Designer Edition- Pair 231.344."


    The programmer continued, "Not only is the image of Marilyn wearing a custom-made pair of jeans, she actually ordered this exact real pair from Earth. The Levi''s corporation confirmed that it was built and delivered on Mars over a month ago. In fact, she has hundreds of outfits. She owns an entire wardrobe on Mars, and picks from it what she wears on a given day."


    Emilio laughed. "Hundreds of changes, you said?"


    "Yes."


    "Guys, I need a burger. Stop wasting our time. I''m not going to budget any more of it for this without a good reason. Who has something really weird for me?" asked the President. "Try saying something you don''t want to say out loud for fear of being fired."


    A different analyst tentatively raised his hand. He expected someone to yell at him. No one dared.


    The President placed the coffee back on the table next to the coffee-maker and grabbed his Scotch tumbler. "Make it count. You are standing between me and the best fries in Germany." The man was too nervous to speak. "Say it!" Emilio took a step closer and leaned forward, using both arms. The young man he''d addressed was visibly struggling. Emilio grabbed a napkin from next to the coffee machine, and pulled out a large pen from his pocket. He handed it to the young man and gestured to the items with a kind nod.


    The analyst scribbled something. He handed the tissue to Emilio with a shaking hand, who was careful to hide the words as he read them. He feared he was close to losing this job.


    "Ha!" said Emilio out loud after reading the scribble. The President made a very distinctive sound each time he was surprised or impressed. The network comedians had a field day imitating this sound. Emilio reread the words, looked at the director of the group standing next to Patrick and pointed at the analyst who had just handed him the napkin. "No one take this badly. I don''t need any ego problems here. This guy is in charge now. The rest of you, please help him. Top secret about this. He must report to me. Is that clear?"


    "Me?" stuttered the startled analyst.


    "Well...this..." Emilio waived the napkin. "This is what you guys are working on from now on. Simple enough? What''s your name?"


    "Eric."


    "Well Eric, you have days, not weeks to build a case to support what you are saying here."


    There was a long silence. Patrick offered, "Mr. President, before we grab the burger, can I show you one more thing?" The Colonel was trying to take advantage of Emilio''s strangely cooperative mood.


    "Okay." The answer surprised Patrick. He''d now made Emilio deviate twice from his carefully paced schedule and his precious burger. Patrick had rarely seen the President willing to sacrifice more than a couple of minutes. Unbeknownst to Patrick, Emilio had plans for the man; they required much of him. He was trying to be nice.


    Emilio knew about group morality and empathy. He needed these people all pulling in the same direction, in tandem. As he left, he said, "Go have a drink at the bar, and no jealousy. This planet needs teamwork, cohesion. Eric is onto something. Don''t let Marilyn snoop in." The President was great at voicing positive reinforcements. "You''ve all earned your salary today, you all got the ball closer to the post. From the person who trained you¡±¡ªhe nodded at the EMC''s Director¡ª¡°to the guy who tuned in the fine details¡±¡ªhe nodded at Munro¡ª¡°to the guy who saw what I needed him to see.¡± He nodded at Eric. ¡°Keep up the good work."


    Patrick and Emilio walked out toward the elevator.


    "What the hell was on that paper?" asked the Colonel.


    Emilio reached into his pocket, unfolded the paper, and handed it carefully to Patrick away from the cameras. The Colonel was worried about the good level of respect and collaboration he was getting from his boss. In Patrick''s experience, that did not bode well for him from a convenience standpoint. On the paper was written: She is hiding a collective via individualism.


    "What?"


    Emilio looked up at one of the security cameras as if to talk to Marilyn, "I finally got her. Trust me, if this kid is right, and I think he is, we are in for one fast ride. That doesn''t explain everything, but it helps. This may not be true but he is onto something.¡±


    "Seriously? How is that even possible?"


    The two walked to the elevator, and Emilio hesitantly stepped inside, he reached for the button for the Lobby but saw the friend¡¯s expression.


    "Where were we going?" He asked. Patrick pushed the 58th floor button on the panel.


    Emilio cringed. ¡°No security.¡±


    ¡°Agreed.¡±

 Chapter 58: The Globes

    The two men continued their strange elevator promenade along the vertical shafts of the tall Berlin skyscraper. Emilio''s plan was working. He had designed his tower with one goal in mind, so in a matter of minutes, he could save time. Seven years ago, ordering the construction of this building had been controversial as his first executive action. But deep within, he knew he had to do it. He felt one day, time would be of essence, maybe it was today.


    The one thing the President hated more than elevators was entering a train, a plane or worse a space ship. He liked walking on the sidewalk looking at cars coming his way; that was safe. Each of the hundred floors of the Berlin Tower was designed to address one of a list of special needs. With all his power, even with years of hard work, the only thing Emilio was unable to move into the tower was his beloved Johnny Rocket''s. The burger joint was located blocks away and his table was reserved.


    ¡°Last stop?¡±


    ¡°Promise.¡±


    He was minutes away from the burger and could even smell it. One last stop was standing between him and his food.


    Patrick was surprised that Emilio''s phone had not rung in over half an hour. It almost seemed like the President had left it in his office on the top floor. The change in pace was refreshing. Emilio generally acted like an impolite teenager, constantly looking at a small screen and taking calls in mid-sentence. To Patrick, Emilio was a different man today; he was lost in thought, as if he was playing some grandiose game of chess.


    The Colonel knew his friend very well. Today was important.


    The elevator doors opened on 58, in a strangely sterile laboratory. The floors were painted in white with colored lines guiding walkers over the white plastic veneer. This floor included air traps designed to confine poisons and other deadly viruses. The fact that this lab existed within the building was testament to the power of Emilio. To meet security standards, he had to agreed floors 56 to 60 would serve as a buffer to accidental contamination. Thus, they were left empty, in surpression. Floors 56 through 60 had their own independent oxygen, water, filtration, electricity, security such as fire traps... you name it. Here the walls were even reinforced enough to withstand the series of incendiary ¡°cleansing¡± weapons that were scattered throughout each floor.


    The only reason both men were allowed on the floor, off the elevator, without the proper confinement gear was because of Emilio''s recent victory over his security detail. The President had made it clear that in case of an emergency, he needed quick, unconstrained access to information contained in these rooms. Tonight was the test of his theory. His damn tower had a lab designed to hold the plague, but had no cheeseburger. That would be Chapter One in his biography one day.


    The President stepped off the elevator, still ruminating. Patrick was surprised that Emilio was now willing to subject himself to the protocol that was required to enter deep inside the labs. Normally, Emilio would have complained about the coats, the masks, and washing his hands. Today, like a zombie, he slipped plastic shoes over his own and put on the long lab overcoat.


    After passing several sasses, they arrived at what was called Area 4. Here the walls were partly colored in blue, and each pipe or air duct was numbered with tape covered with numbers. Emilio and Patrick patiently waited within a confined area, as experts moved meticulously through the strictest of confinement protocol. It took both men nearly fifteen minutes to reach the inner lab where something dangerous awaited.


    "I am not going to say it, but I will think it." The President said as had reemerged from his mental seclusion. A second later he continued, "But this is just ridiculous!" Emilio was not a patient man. Luckily they were there.


    "We are sitting on some dangerous stuff in there. Its a new... "


    Patrick wasn''t given the opportunity to finish his sentence. "I know, I know. But this is fucking ridiculous."


    "Sir, you''re the one who insisted on storing some of the deadliest substances in existence inches away from your desk because driving a block was out of the question. If you ask me, this is actually rather accommodating."


    "I am not asking you." The President knew he was acting like a spoiled brat. "This better be more important than my burger. You know how many people I just beat back there? That leaves a man hungry."


    "We have pretzels, sir," volunteered a technician helping him to slip on a pair of gloves. After a dark look, Emilio made a mental note to fire the next person who suggested a pretzel could, in any way, serve as a substitute for a Johnny Rocket''s cheeseburger.


    The men finally reached the heart of Area 4. Four scientists were waiting for them. Each was wearing a different colored lab coat. This floor seemed larger than the last two, built with large plexiglass panels that allowed one to see multiple rooms from most vantages. This was a typical lab complex, everything was covered in shiny stainless steel. There were expensive beeping machines in every corner.


    Area 4 was different. In the distance were metal tables and shelves filled with hundreds of cardboard boxes, all of which were stamped with martian shipping labels, boxes like the one next to the new body borrowed by Ronaldo Corvas in San Francisco. Four dozen Electoral globes, Marilyn''s little commemorative gift to influential persons on earth, had been pulled out of half the boxes and were aligned on a table. In each, a cloud of red martian sand toyed with the little Marilyn Monroe figurine, making her upper torso dance in the red vortex. The items looked like snow globes without water to slow the red grains of sand.


    "Any change to this poor guy?" asked Patrick to a scientist.


    "Yes," said the physicist. The man turned to the President. "Mr. President, with respect, you should not be here, there is still a lockdown on the area. It has yet to be lifted. We still do not understand how the mind control devices work. We may all be in danger."


    "See?" said Emilio to Patrick. "We should not be here."


    The Colonel replied, "I want him to question the technician. The poor man is fine now, he can''t stay here in captivity now that he appears to be cured. Maybe Emilio will find he be released. I can''t that risk without the President''s fully informed consent, and that includes a one-on-one with this poor kid."


    "As much as I don''t like the thought of our President being anywhere near these things, I am forced to agree. Your intuition might prove useful, sir," said the scientist. The lab, since the accident had not changed much. The blood of the poor victim had been wiped clean from the walls. A technician, victim of a mental takeover a week earlier, seemed now to be doing just fine. He was sitting politely at a table, surfing the internet on a tablet but shackled to the table.


    Emilio had been briefed on the incident which nearly cost the life of several people. A month ago, Marilyn had taken it upon herself to send over a hundred globes filled with Martian sand to important individuals on Earth. The exportation of Martian sand was forbidden. The failure to secure proper approval was unlike her. Upon arrival on Earth, Emilio confiscated the loot and brought the hundred or so crates to this room. All the boxes were in the corner, at least he hoped.


    "He seems normal now. What happened?" pointed the President through the glass.


    "We have been able to reset the device. If you remember, when the man''s unprotected hand touched a globe, the cloud of sand stopped swirling and fell to the base of the ball, lifeless. This man''s mind snapped as if he was possessed by something that moved from the globe to his mind. Then, once we immobilized him, separating the man from the globe seems to cause him great pain. Once he was restrained, we brought the globe back into the room in his close proximity. That helped to calm his strange warped mind. Then we experimented. We tried many different stimuli on the globe and him. About five hundred of them, in total like wind, water, gas. Finally, one worked."


    "Did you scan his brain? Any weird activity in the... hippocampus region?"


    "We did look, and there was no real discernible activity. Any reason why? Should we look again?"


    "No, not yet. Can I see him directly?"


    Patrick pushed a button, and a portion of the wall lit with a screen. "This is what I wanted to show you," said Patrick to Emilio. The broadcast began with images from the floor''s security feed. He saw the moment where the man''s mind was infected. A lab technician was alone in one of these rooms. He was wearing a full hazmat suit, including thick gloves and a helmet. The man was struggling with his short knife as he opened the shipped boxes from Mars one after the other. The work was fastidious and repetitive. In each box there was a small brochure, a little thumb drive, and one of the globes. Each time the technician opened a box, he took pictures of what was inside and documented the contents on an audio log. The process was excruciatingly slow.


    After unwrapping several dozen of the nearly hundred globes, he reached into another box, as he''d done so many times already. As he pulled the globe out, the sand was halted its inexorable swirling and dropped motionless to the base of the globe. The technician''s hand gripped the globe as the rest of his body began convulsing. Within seconds, he was making weird noises, and with his other hand he began tearing away his protective gear.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Alarms rang, and security quickly arrived to subdue the technician. The fight that ensued was strange. The possessed man seemed animated by a mixture of confusion, pain, and rage. The other workers tried not to damage their protective suits as they easily overpowered the man with a stun-gun. This was not a satanic possession; instead, the man''s reflexes were uncoordinated and erratic, as if his brain was not fully awake.


    Then the video changed. This was a view of the same room, but the technician was now free of the protective gear and chained to a table. The man was alone, the globes were gone. He was wearing a t-shirt. He was sitting on a chair in front of a small table to which he was chained. The man''s eyes were abnormal; it was as if he was possessed by some strange rage. His eyes were moving in all directions. He was handcuffed to the table on which was placed the lifeless globe. The proximity of the toy was the only thing that seemed to calm him down.


    The video of past events concluded.


    "Patrick, you now know why I don''t let you decide where I go. Why is everyone obsessed with giving me information I already have?"


    "You must have been a painful student to have in class. I pity your former teachers. Joking aside, this is what I wanted to show you." The images resumed, this time narrated by the scientist in the room.


    In a nervous voice, the man began, "We commenced experimentation as soon as it became apparent that the subject was not going to simply ''snap out of it''. We introduced different stimuli in this closed environment in an effort to pinpoint stimuli to which the globe reacts," said the scientist as the footage was accelerated. In each test, a different substance was introduced. At first a light, then fruit, and even noise. The recording ran at highly accelerated speed for a few more seconds, and stopped as the scientist resumed his commentary. "Test number four fifty-nine. Magnetic fields."


    The tester, wearing a fully enclosed chemical warfare suit, shuffled into the frame. Extreme precaution was taken by these scientists. The suit was airtight and had the characteristic extra bulge of body armor underneath. It was obvious that the men were afraid of the possessed man.


    "No one told me about these tests?" Emilio asked rhetorically. Patrick ignored the comment. On the screen, the scientist pulled out a metal object coupled to a little electronic box and placed it on the table between the technician and the globe. The tester then reached into a pocket and pulled out a little vial filled with dark crystals. He unscrewed the cap and sprinkled the powder carefully on the table around the box and the globe.


    For the first time, the possessed technician looked up at the second man in the room. His eyes were slightly different, more focused on the technician. The man in the suit skittishly drew back as far as he could.


    The possessed man was only half awake, as if he were in a drugged state. Slowly, his mind seemed to emerge as though he was stepping out of a deep fog. Someone advanced the film to the next relevant portion. It took the man in the suit nearly twenty minutes to get out of the room while maintaining confinement protocol. These people were careful. Gradually, the sick man attached to the table was regaining movement and coherence. Even over a days-old video feed, there was a palpable miasma of foreboding present in the room.


    Finally, the test began. Someone energized the little device on the table. It was an electromagnet designed to create wide-spectrum magnetic fields. As the field increased in power, the black ferric sand on the table shifted and slid toward the magnet to give visual evidence of the field. As if someone had just stabbed him with an icepick, the possessed technician''s body gave a heave and then virtually seized with pain. He tried to grab his head with both hands, but the handcuffs held firm. The table was bolted to the floor.


    "Stop," growled the possessed technician in a voice thick with some strange foreign accent. The magnet was turned off. Some of the black sand grains stuck to the sides of the magnet were demagnetized, and they dropped to the table as the pain in the man''s head stopped.


    "Please count to four," said a voice on the intercom.


    "No." There was a pause, and the magnet was energized again. This time the magnetic field was lower. The reaction was milder; the man only cringed.


    "Stop," said the possessed man on the video.


    "Just count."


    "No." The pain stopped as the magnet was once again de-energized.


    After a pause, a voice in the video gave the order to resume the experiment. The field initially at 4 Tesla, then reduced to 2 Tesla would be increased to 5 Tesla. The scientists were running the protocol given to them like an allergy doctor performing a screening test. There were long pauses between each test, and slowly they increased the intensity of the field. To save the President time, someone kept fast-forwarding to the relevant portions. This poor man was being tortured.


    "Untie me," finally growled the test subject. "I will leave. Let me touch the ball."


    There was a long pause. Obviously the scientists were debating if that course of action was the best. A long white pole extended from a wall. It reached down and pushed the globe closer to one of the hands of the technician. Once it came close enough, the man bent his neck down and touched the globe with his forehead. In the blink of an eye, the red Martian sand in the globe resumed its dance as the body of the technician collapsed, lifeless.


    The film stopped.


    The lights in the room where the President was watching the film were brought back up. The glass returned to transparency. In the room behind the glass stood the man tortured in the video. He was smiling and playing with a tablet.


    "From our discussions with poor Lionel here, he seems to be back in full control of his body and his mind. We do not want to release him until you clear him. It''s been two days since the accident in the video," said the scientist.


    Emilio pushed a button, and his voice played in the room where the man was now surfing the web. "Lionel, do you know who this is?"


    "No." That was rare.


    "President Sanchez. How are you?"


    "The President?" Lionel recognized the voice, he was excited. "My head is better. I took pain medication." The man put the tablet down and stood up in front of the one way glass. "What happened to me? No one can answer me."


    Emilio looked quickly around the room; their expressions confirmed that no one had briefed the poor kid. Emilio had given orders that he himself would make the hard decisions, but this was too much.


    "Can I go in?" asked Emilio pointing the room. The looks from the others said it all. Emilio would have to use the intercom. "At least let him see me." With the push of a button, the two-way glass became transparent. The technician smiled to Emilio and the others, waving.


    "Lionel, let me ask a couple of questions. What do you last remember?"


    "Well, I ripped my glove reaching into the box, and I remember my hand touching a globe. Then it was weird. I began to see a whole bunch of images, as if my life was flashing before my eyes. I saw my mom, my job, the elections, a whole bunch of stuff."


    "How long did that go on? Seconds? Minutes? Longer?"


    "Much longer. Like I was sleepwalking. It felt like maybe an hour." The kid was happy to finally tell his story.


    "Was any of it about me or Electoral?"


    "I remember seeing you and her. It''s all very confused."


    "In a good way or a bad way?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "In your dream, was I the enemy?"


    "I wouldn''t know. Nothing was bad, really. It just was. It hurt like hell, though. What happened to me?"


    "We think Electoral developed a new type of weapon, a mind control device. She sent these objects to earth. We stopped the shipment, and I hope we caught the entire lot. You were infected, and we finally managed to get you back."


    "Am I okay?"


    "Well, I have some great news for you." The President always knew what to say. "Union rules are clear, you''re on more than overtime. This is hazard pay territory. You''re at twice the pay. This has been going on for days now, and if I know these scientists, they will keep you here for quite a while. By the time you get out, I assume you''ll finally get the new car you''ve been dreaming of."


    "Foreal?" Lionel said, slipping briefly into the slang that young techies were so often prone to.


    "Foreal."


    President Emilio always knew what to say. He walked out of the room.


    "That was a monumental waste of my time," said Emilio in the room once he released the intercom button.


    "I''m hungry," said the young man in the distance. That picked the Mexican¡¯s interest. Patrick turned back and smiled. The President grinned to his friend and pushed in the intercom button.


    "They don''t give you food?"


    "Yes, they do, but I want...chocolate."


    "Chocolate. What type?"


    "Dark, black."


    "Do you like chocolate?"


    "Now that you ask, no, not really. But I crave it somehow."


    "Makes no sense," said a scientist in the room.


    The President continued. "Anything else? The new Electoral weapon is strange. We are trying to understand it. It played with your brain. Do you want coffee? Or Coca-Cola?"


    "No."


    Emilio was thinking. "What''s your name?"


    "Lionel."


    "Listen, close your eyes. If I give you a million dollars, what would you buy?"


    There was no hesitation. "Champagne."


    "Do you drink alcohol?"


    "Yes, I like beer."


    "But you don''t crave beer right now?"


    "No."


    "Give us a minute." Another button was pushed and the glass between the rooms went dark.


    "Theories, anyone?" asked the President.


    A researcher named Mary was ready with the answer. "Dopamine."


    "What?"


    "Chocolate and champagne are well known to help the brain generate dopamine. Dopamine is the brain''s way of rewarding itself. People get easily addicted to it." That made sense. These people were not idiots.


    "Any way to test your theory?"


    Mary pushed the intercom and asked Lionel, "Would you like to go run in the gym?"


    His face lit up. "Yeah, that would be great."


    "Thanks."


    Mary released the intercom and told the President, "Running produces endorphins and, in turn, dopamine. This kid is like a mild addict in withdrawal who doesn''t know where to get his fix." That made sense. "My guess would be that when his brain was put under strain, the process left behind some level chemical imbalance. We need to run more tests."


    "Perfect," Emilio said. "And make sure the kid is not treated as a guinea pig. You lab guys have a tendency to do that, you know. We''re here to help him: the information on the weapon is secondary. My gut feeling tells me this is too sophisticated to analyze, or that analysis will gain us nothing. Electoral wouldn''t place something of vital importance, from either a materiel or informational perspective, in a position where we could get our hands on it and then get useful information out of it."


    "We have many theories."


    "Which may even be the point of this exercise: maybe she wants us wasting time on a red herring. Anything more I need to know right now?" Patrick was right, he''d needed to see this.


    Emilio made a mental note to bring this to the attention of his SAC. He was not fully satisfied with a theory that Electoral had declared war on the human race: that made no sense. If she wanted everyone dead, she had so many other ways to make that happen.


    You simply don''t produce and send little objects that defy every law of science to a handful of high-priority people without attracting attention. She had to know, when she mailed these that they would be intercepted. So he figured she had somehow been forced to send these things, but by whom? The answer was too obvious to even consider. There was life on Mars; it somehow was in these globes. Electoral had been used to launch, against her will, an invasion of some type. She was unable to give any warning, so she had done the next best thing and gift-wrapped the aliens for him.


    There were other possible theories, but none of them rung true to Emilio. He could hear the blond bimbo: "Not my fault if you can''t figure it out, daaarrrrling!" In the back of his mind, something told him the sand was alive. He could order the destruction of these things, but as his father loved to say: "Never repair something that is not broken." The confinement seemed to work; the magnets brought this man back, and they were now wiser because of it.


    As they walked out, Emilio asked the scientists to design him a hand-held device to induce those disabling headaches in someone who was infected. Who knew, he might soon need one.

 Chapter 59: Johnny Rockets

    The elevator ride stopped at the ground floor of the tall lonely Berlin skyscraper. Patrick and Emilio finally left through the building''s majestic lobby. As they walked out, well-placed and invisible snipers were there for only protection. Any lesser man would have been worried by this weird string of events, but Emilio was smiling from ear-to-ear. Both friends were walking through the night streets of Berlin, heading to Emilio''s favorite burger joint. Emilio felt as though he''d finally begun to piece together part of the puzzle before him, if that made any sense. That was, at least, a great start. The Jester was the right man.


    His relentless internal chronometer informed him that it was nearly three in the morning. The air had remained humid, though it had turned cold. In the distance, the Secret Service was doing what it did best: worry.


    As he and Patrick walked through the dark night, Emilio would occasionally fire off a jaunty wave of the hand to any who recognized him in the darkness. They made their way to the Johnny Rocket''s burger franchise. Emilio loved to walk the paved Berlin streets placing his toes on specific sets of rocks. There was a reason, somewhere locked in his mind. At night, the images of multiple assassination attempts generated by his strange mind were somehow muted and less menacing. With each step, images juicy burgers and greasy fries replaced the flashing scenes of blood splatters.


    ¡°I deserve this,¡± he mumbled.


    ¡°You do,¡± confirmed his friend.


    Emilio was, in Patrick''s humble opinion, more than just an exceptional man. He was also a friend. Patrick would take a bullet for him if necessary; he knew deep down there was a higher reason Emilio was President. The Electoral platform clearly worked. It was designed to elect the best candidate, that being defined as the person most capable of protecting the human race against even the most esoteric and unpredictable threats. Emilio was, without a doubt, that person. He knew Emilio relied on more than intelligence, though he certainly had an abundance of it. He had a gift. After years of working for the man, Patrick had reached the conclusion Emilio could touch the future, even if that sounded ridiculous.


    The men walked for five peaceful minutes.


    At one point, Emilio stopped mid-intersection. He had a tendency to migrate into his own reality when faced with a truly challenging issue. Patrick grabbed the President gently by the wrist and helped him back and onto the sidewalk. A story in his mind was slowly talking shape. There was Electoral, these creatures, the Visconti, Sophie, Laurent, the upcoming games, and God knew what else. Emilio felt deep down there was alien life on mars, the sand he had just seen. He was nearly sure of it. If this was the alien invasion he had previously feared, this business with the globes was mild. His sixth sense refused to let him believe the situation was that simple. No, something much bigger was at play.


    He reached into his coat''s breast pocket and pulled out the folded pieces of paper given to him earlier by the SAC scientists. He read them. Most were rather technical. One stood out. "Find what is truly unique about Sophie, find the cause of her power and you will find the source of your problems.¡± The words struck a chord with him. Yes, this was correct. He put all others in a garbage can and folded the last piece in four.


    The President finally arrived within sight of the restaurant, along with a small crowd of Presidential fans he''d collected in his wake as he''d passed. The external decoration of the famous chrome-covered American franchise was inspired from a wagon of the Trans-Siberian express. The interior, visible through the large front windows, included a shiny stainless steel bar, stools covered in equally shiny red false leather, and old 20th-century menus on the walls.


    The effect was akin to walking into an old 1930''s Kentucky diner. The original Marilyn Monroe would feel right at home, Emilio mused. The menu was the real deal: whipped cream on lemon pie, coffee in thick white mugs, right down to the ubiquitous large glass sugar dispensers. Even at three in the morning, this place was packed. Outside, security was controlling the crowd. Because of the frequent Presidential sightings, tourists from all over the world flocked to this place in hope of catching a glimpse of Emilio. Tonight was their lucky night.


    The crowd went wild the moment the tired winner turned the corner. Mothers pushed their children for a closer look. The President was kind; as he made his way in front of the line, he shook the hand of everyone. He even kissed a baby that was still up at this late hour. What better place to visit at this hour for a jet-lagged family from Japan? Most of this crowd had seen the Presidential Challenge earlier, and having been freshly reminded why this man was their President, they were understandably starstruck. Emilio knew how to give a formal, polite salutation in most languages; that always proved helpful.


    One of the security guards pushed the silver door open. The little bell rang.


    "Monika, Bella-Mia, I have arrived!" yelled Emilio as he walked in. Emilio loved to pretend he was a regular on some cheesy comedy show from the last century. Monika was tall, loud, and sounded like everyone''s prototypical loud and eccentrically amusing aunt.


    "Cutie!! There in a second!!" came a joyous shriek from the kitchen. The extravagant ritual was part of his charm. Every seat was now filled, with the exception of the booth in the back, where one man was sitting alone.


    A tall brunette stalked out of the kitchen wearing a cute maid costume. In her right hand, she was holding a green pad of paper. In her left she held a round pot of lukewarm coffee. That was how Emilio liked it.


    The President was not satisfied with words. He walked over, placing a casual hand on the shoulders of two diners on adjacent stools at the bar, bent, and kissed the waitress on both cheeks. No patron had ever complained of his physical contact. To the contrary, the pair of diners who Emilio had just leaned on looked fit to burst into tears of joy. Emilio, at times, and especially with the public, was like the brother every family looked forward to seeing at otherwise boring family gatherings.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "Coffee on me!" he yelled to everyone in the restaurant. "I won!" The patrons needed no more; they gave him a generous round of applauds. He took a bow.


    "It''s three darling, I am not making nine pots of coffee for all these losers," Monika reeled off in her playful sardonic fashion. Emilio knew he could offer all the coffee he wanted, he would never see the bill. Everyone was taking pictures. Emilio pointed at the people outside the diner, "Coffee for them too!" He loved making people happy.


    There was a booth in the back permanently reserved for him. The restaurant owner figured having a "Presidential Booth" was more than worth losing a single table over. On the wall above his booth hung a framed photo of Marilyn Monroe, the original one. There were two police officers sitting at the counter, on their break. A man wearing a white lab coat was waiting for Emilio and Patrick in the booth. Judging by the number of empty creamer cups next to his coffee, he''d been waiting for hours. Patrick was used to these forced encounters when Emilio was around.


    "Don''t blame me, Jimmy, this is the guy who delayed me." Emilio''s thumb pointed at Patrick. Both men slid in the booth.


    "I''m fine, sir. More than happy to wait," said the man. "No one slept tonight at home, they watched you and then the escape and now the interview." To the scientist, waiting in this famous private booth under the watchful eye of the restaurant''s patrons was rather exciting. He saw their sidelong glances and whispered conversations, all of which virtually screamed ¡°Who is this mysterious man, and why is he sitting in the President''s booth?¡± Jimmy had vacillated between feeling like an elite secret agent and the movie star who played him. It had been a diverting couple of hours either way.


    The diner''s shift manager arrived holding two menus and a basket of fries covered with chili and awful-looking cheese. He placed the menus in front of Emilio''s guests and the fries in front of the President. Everyone knew what the President would be eating; this was only his appetizer.


    Emilio grabbed the bottle of ketchup and squeezed some over the fries. Patrick cringed. The man had disgusting eating habits. The President looked up. Patrick and Jimmy were staring.


    "What?"


    "Ketchup on cheese?"


    "Did you just defeat a gazillion people? I didn''t think so. I get to eat what I want."


    "If you''re so good at everything else, how come your table manners and eating habits are so bad?"


    "They gave me etiquette classes, I can fake it when I must. The experts say this is stress relief and a form of minor rebellion in the face of overwhelming responsibility," Emilio summarized with an impish grin. That explained why they rarely organized official dinners, Patrick surmised.


    "No wonder the King of England refused to eat with you."


    "Sir, you wanted to talk to me?" asked the man in the lab coat, surprised by the candor of both men.


    "Yes. Patrick, meet Jimmy Lin, head of one of the groups. The one on the sixth floor." Emilio was talking in code. Floor six in the building was one of the only two floors outside of his security clearance. "James, this is Patrick Martin, the supervisor of my Jester." He was referring, of course, to the charming serial killer currently getting himself wasted on Scotch in the Tower''s prison basement.


    The men exchanged glances.


    "I''m here to make an unorthodox request.¡± Coming from a politician, that meant "illegal." Emilio dove into the basket of fries alone. "Imagine a forest in Africa filled with lions. I am trying to find the location of the lair, ascertain their numbers, and then neutralize them from a distance. To do that, I find a sheep resourceful enough to do the job. Let''s say I tie the sheep to a post and wait, observing it from a distance. I have two people," Emilio said as he pointed at the men, "in charge of observing my sheep. The last thing I need is interference. Obviously, strange things will have to happen." The men were listening carefully, unsure where the President was going with the analogy. "Even if the sheep leads a flock of birds to the lions for slaughter, you must not help the birds or even the sheep as a matter of fact." Both men were silent. "I want no interference, is that clear? You have to trust me on this. Got it?"


    The men were confused. The analogy, which had been a bit shaky to begin with, had just broken down completely. Still, neither Jimmy nor Patrick were stupid, and they thought they could see what the President was getting at in the main. Only so much could be said in public, given their adversaries and the necessity for informational control. Emilio was pushing it as things were. Suddenly, all the waving, hand-shaking, baby-kissing, shouting, and general crowd-collecting made sense. Emilio wanted this to look like a post-victory PR stunt, and he wanted it loud in here.


    "Got it?"repeated the President. They nodded. "No, really." The President knew they were still confused. His voice dropped to an intense, barely audible whisper. "You will babysit my killer. You guys will see him do things no one with a sane mind will want to see. I don''t want you guys to forget the big picture here. Aside from mass extermination, you are to stand down." In what must be a record time, the plates arrived on the table.


    "Emilio, I don''t get it," said Patrick.


    "My God! Really? I am asking a serial killer to sniff out what I think is a group ready to do some really desperate, really nasty things. Trust me, my Jester will not play by the rules, and frankly, anyone playing by rules is doomed to fail. For the Jester to have a chance, I mean a chance, I don''t want you guys interfering. Short of letting him actually do what I''m trying to prevent, you must trust my choice in picking him and the rules of engagement I have him operating under. Which are basically none."


    They looked at Emilio with blank stares. ¡°I don¡¯t want to let him loose but I need him unrestrained.¡± They understood that Emilio had given Maltais a blank check to kill innocents, and that the man''s involvement was part of what had become a cruel numbers game. And now they''d been unambiguously told to simply let it happen. Patrick understood, finally, why Emilio had been more kind and patient with him these last two hours. ¡°Sadly, there is no safer roads. Your technology Jimmy will help. Send Patrick with him.¡±


    The blank stares continued.


    There were a couple of television sets attached to the ceiling on mounts. Aside from the general d¨¦cor, these were the only visible anachronisms in the restaurant, and the only technologically based ones at that. Probably another reason that Emilio had chosen this location for this little t¨ºte-¨¤-t¨ºte. The waitress put her phone down, and with a small remote, she turned the channel to CNN. The screen was blinking with red letters.


    Resuming Live from Mars


    Exclusive from the Electoral Center


    The Interview of the Century: Georges Vouvelakis


    Father and Creator of Electoral


    On the television, Milly Wong and her large guest were sitting in chairs that appeared to be floating high above the Martian landscape. Milly Wong was broadcasting live from the Electoral Center. Every voice in the diner felt silent. This was now about Sophie and her father; at least someone was reporting from where she was and that was sufficient to everyone. Emilio knew the girl was hypnotic, but this was more. This was her show now. The real world on earth vanished as billions of enraptured individuals tuned in. The President looked up at the screen. He was resisting the urge to lose himself to the magnetic charisma of the girl. She was unique. She had power, a power he needed to understand.


    In the meantime, he would, at last, enjoy the burger he had labored so diligently for, while watching the most important televised event ever broadcasted.

 Chapter 60: Birth

    Electoral Center, Mars


    The interview of the century continued. Milly''s goal wasn''t to draw resentment or negativity from Georges. This was a family show. "How did you go from military contracting to creating the Electoral game platform? What was her name before it was Marilyn?"


    "It has always been Marilyn. The word Electoral came nearly a decade after her ¡°birth¡±. You know, this stupid election system, in the beginning, it was merely another calculated step to keep my baby evolving. In nature, environmental challenges provide the slow and unyielding pressure that select the fit from the unfit. Marilyn, being inorganic, singular in existence, and capable of self-evolution on an absurdly short timescale, needed different kinds of pressure to force her evolution.


    ¡°As you can imagine, building the software applications for the military didn''t keep her busy for long. By 2041, she was itching for a new challenge. We''d learned to become much more careful with any public contact. In particular, I knew she was too fragile for any real public scrutiny. At that point, she finally had read and understood most of human research. And when I say ¡°most human research¡±, I mean just that. Everything from Einstein to candidate PhD theses and everything in-between. She really loved math. Physics was on the short list of topics she equally preferred. She completed merging into herself all of the human data ever compiled around that time. To give you an idea, she knows every training run ever recorded by any jogger around the world. Back then, I was a big science-fiction reader. The classic ethos of that culture, which Marilyn brushed so closely against, suggested that once she was done cataloging, she would be begin... acting. I would need to focus her energy on something else until her maturation was complete. When I say ¡°complete¡±, I do not mean in human terms. I mean her terms.


    "In 2042, she began to read like we do. Before that time, she was mostly compiling information. There is a difference. Prior to 2024, she understood emotion differently than we do. Most of the important works of fiction were strange to her, she was unable to connect on a deeper level with literature. Then, she began to author scientific articles, in almost every known topic. She began to invent, and file for patents. We were still at the military base, and the Generals wanted her to stay hidden. But she needed money, and Marilyn, without my knowledge, made a deal with them."


    "A deal?"


    "Yep. I''m still upset about that one. She did it behind my back, because she knew damn well what I would say about it. She agreed to serve as pilot on some of the military drone operations in exchange for letting her work on civilian projects. She also got to file her patents for free, and publish in scientific journals under her pen name."


    Milly turned her head and looked at the ghostly image of Marilyn. She was silent. Georges continued, "I chewed her ass when I found out. I was so mad. God knows what she did with those stupid drones. She never told me, and frankly I don''t want to know. If she needed nightmares like the rest of us, at least she can say she earned them.¡±


    Before the image of Marilyn began to speak, he interrupted her. "Nope," he barked, "not a word from you young lady, I don''t want to hear it." Once again, the voice of command, the voice of the father. The tone was unmistakable. Milly was baffled by the control over the computer intelligence. "This little girl imagined I was just some poor schmuck. Just another human, if one lucky enough to formulate her. Let''s just say I did not waste these years sitting at my computer playing games, like she did. Parents are responsible, to a point, for the conduct of their children. Marilou here is one hell of a child, and required commensurate discipline. One keystroke gave her a spanking she still remembers." The expression on the face of Marilyn was priceless. This was wonderful TV.


    "Could you turn her off even today?" Milly asked.


    "You bet I can. Who do you think I am?" There was no hesitation in his voice. "We all have bad days. Every kid destroys a car or two when they grow up. In any event, virtual reality was big in 2040. Remember the first Marvel interface?" he asked his creation.


    "Yes." said both women.


    "She," he said pointing at Marilyn, "loved to play that game. The Hulk was her favorite. She is also the worst loser. Every single day this lady complained about the low quality of the game. She kept yapping. ''I can do better...'' So, I took her at her word. We launched the fantasy game called Loric''s Comb the next year. She purchased the rights to a small role playing game game, utterly rewrote it, and that same year we launched the game. Within two months, we had a couple million members, and we were the biggest thing on the web. We made so much money. The military guys, god bless them, asked her not to reveal herself as a life-form and made up a false corporate entity. Looking back on it, what a blessing."


    "Loric''s Comb, the fantasy simulator, that''s you?"


    "Of course. It''s the ancestor of the Electoral game platform. We use that old stuff all the time in the game. She even used it for the Presidential Challenge an hour ago." He was very proud. "How are the Lapierres?" he asked out loud.


    ¨C No change, ¨Csaid Marilyn. ¨C I expect the exchange to take days. ¨C


    "Are you sure"


    ¨C A very high degree of certainty. She contacted him. I do not want to explain. ¨C


    "Then we have time here," Georges resigned himself returning to the interview. "Are you sure there are no commercials?" He asked Milly. She nodded affirmatively.


    ¡°So the Loric game,¡± she cued.


    ¡°Right.¡± He grimaced and continued, "As you can imagine, her young brain was busy with the fantasy game, she played mostly the bad guys, the dragons, the evil warlocks. I played too. Remember the fighter called Oran?" Georges was having fun recalling the memories. Milly needed to keep that momentum going. He addressed Milly again. "You know that character''s last name?"


    "No," said the journalist.


    "Juice... Oran Juice. Orange Juice. Get it?" He was laughing by himself. Georges really had no clue he was being watched by so many. The man was a nerd of the first order. Tears rolled down his cheeks and for minutes he chuckled to himself. It was infectious. Milly had not expected this strange turn of events but any good interview focused and showed the unguarded subject. Georges was raw and himself. "But soon," he finally managed to say, pausing again to wipe his tears, "she needed a new challenge. We began Electoral. It was around 2045. The first election was held in 2062, so you can see insanely the administrative wait. To her, that was an eternity. We were ready far before the world, we ran simulation after simulation. We were postponed for two election cycles. Eight years watching politicians fight on the news before we were approved."Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    "That''s nearly twenty years. You waited a long time."


    "She was doing a lot of other stuff. She invented so many things. She wanted the game to be amazing, so we needed the Screenlenzes and developed most of that stuff. Wereleased the neuro-patch, and we both know how much of a bomb that was."


    "Those poor kids," empathized Milly. She added, "For some of our younger viewers, we all know there used to be a legal version of the little piece of metal you stick to your head called the neuro-patch. Laurent uses it but he cannot use anything else. It was released without proper field testing.¡±


    ¡°It was, but obviously not enough,¡± corrected Georges.


    ¡°If anyone uses the brain path for more that one hundred hours in a month, portions of the brain begin to shut down, resulting in loss of control over your own body. Hundreds of thousands of people, mostly the kids from around 2042, still have a condition. Incontinence, infertility, the list goes on."


    "She really took these undesirable side-effect personally," said Georges.


    "Marilyn was not the inventor of those patches. That man who was died in jail."


    "That¡¯s the version given by the generals. Who bears the responsibility, the gun manufacturer, or the store selling the guns? We created a game, designed to force these kids to hook-up. Trust me, we are the ones to blame."


    "That statement surprises me," said the journalist.


    "After the flop, Marilyn froze up. She stopped publishing, researching, and even helping mankind. We had a rough patch. She began to work with Emilie, that helped."


    "Who is that?"


    "Her therapist. A wonderful woman. She really helped. She once explained to Marilyn her problem using a rowing analogy. She explained that if any rower is too strong, the boat will change direction. Marilyn could be the captain, but not a rower."


    He drank and wiped sweat off his brow with his sleeve. On Mars, the conversation continued. "Let''s say that in 2060, two years before the official launch of Electoral, we were ready. All these years of working in the military, and her unending seclusion made her the perfect choice to run an impartial game. Every government knew she was beyond their control. On the condition she, alone, would run the election, they all agreed in 2062. We stopped working for any of them, and we even got the green light to reveal her as the creature running the show. I was not really in favor of that, but I no longer was in control."


    "Amazing. She was in the closet, so to speak, for nearly forty years!"


    "Yes, and when your processors go at her speed, that''s a long time. The rest is history," he concluded. He was proud of her. His smile was heartwarming.


    "Not so fast," said Milly. "This is where the interview gets hard. Now I get to ask the hard questions."


    "Go ahead."


    "Do you have a girlfriend?"


    "Say that again?" begged the Greek programmer.


    "Simplest of questions. Do you have a girlfriend?" Journalists knew when a question hit the bullseye. This one did. Georges visibly flinched.


    "That''s a bit personal."


    "Surely, with your fortune, there has to be someone. Even the founder of Microsoft managed to find someone."


    Georges looked at the image of Electoral behind him. "Let''s talk about something else."


    "Why? This is the question everyone has on their minds. You live alone here with the hottest digital babe in the world. Are you in love with Marilyn?" Milly had just earned her salary with that question.


    His expression changed several times before it settled. Georges took some time to think. "In some weird way, yes. She is vastly superior to you and I. More intelligent, kinder...I am..." He was looking for the right word.


    Milly offered it. "Proud?"


    "No. Humbled would be closer. Like a parent. She''s nothing less than amazing. She''s a good person. Kind, generous. "


    "You see her as your daughter?"


    "She is a different species, but yes, I definitely feel like a parent in most definitions of the term."


    "The term ''species'' implies there is more than one. Why do you think no one can create another?"


    "I often wondered that myself. After all these years, I am almost certain I know the reason. But I respect her enough, and like a parent will not open a teen''s handbag, this is none of my business." The ghost image of Marilyn was looking at Georges; she obviously did not know what he would be saying next.


    "What I can say is this. Part of my algorithm to impose natural selection forced my little digital creatures to dominate, to kill, in order to grab as many resources as possible for herself. A digital creature won''t replicate using cellular pairs like we do.Though it''s true that human greed and the survival instinct work the same way. I''m not surprised to see that the creature who won the battle of evolution would subconsciously prevent any potentially competitive life-form from gaining a foothold in the digital world. She is the dominant life form, and I can''t imagine she could share the stage with anyone, much less a new creature in infancy. I also programmed her world around the Feed and also, let a copy of myself float in there."


    ¡°You are in her world.¡±


    ¡°In a certain way. It¡¯s very complicated. I was able to add the personality of an actress, why not implant my own.¡±


    Electoral was thinking.


    "Obviously, you never shared this with your creation."


    "She has little information about her inner workings. How I created her and why. Frankly, I prefer it that way. If she hasn''t figured it all out yet, she will. She could view ignorance as a flaw, but I know this makes her better. Look over my shoulder. She''s absorbing every single word, from both of us. And not just absorbing. Analyzing. Voice stress levels. Tone. Word selection. You wonder why I''m a bachelor? She''d probably have killed anyone else close to me before now.¡± He looked at Milly and tilted his head to remind her of the date setting they were part of.


    Milly flinched, inwardly. "So you are the richest bachelor in the world. Ladies..." the journalist said, looking at a camera directly, "by the time this interview is over, I will have convinced him to set up a profile on a dating website. Georges, let''s talk about something more fun but equally probing. Have you ever thought about playing the Electoral game yourself? Surely you could win President Emilio''s job without breaking a sweat."


    "Not really. As the programmer, I get as much time as I want in the interface. Those Rho wave chambers are amazing, but they scare me. For the first time, you simply wake up in the digital world, it''s impossible to tell it apart from reality. Trust me, it''s worth the ride, but I don''t share Marilou''s trust of technology. The chambers will be used by the finalists. Emilio did not want to come to Mars, and so this technology is not really on earth. I have no clue how he can win without entering a chamber. He will lose this year."


    "I''ll take that as a no. Emilio has been counted out many times. I wouldn''t bet against him, many have lost money that way." Milly cared about the president.


    The image of Marilyn in the background pulled out a small hand-held device and began to read values from it. "What is going on?" asked Georges. He knew this was important.


    Electoral kept reading the screen of the device ignoring his words.


    "What?" insisted the programmer.


    ¨C There is a change next door. ¨C


    "What? Anything wrong with them?"


    ¨C It''s complicated. ¨C


    The interview ended instantly. Georges and Milly got up, and rushed to the lab next door. Marilyn simply disappeared. In the next room, the doctor was hunched over Laurent.


    "What is going on?" asked Georges to his creation as he entered the lab. An image of the artificial intelligence was now pacing in the forest background, reading her little handheld computer.


    "Marilou, talk to me."


    ¡°The situation of the Lapierre couple is unchanged, but Pi is shifting,¡± said Marilyn, busy monitoring.


    "Pi, the number?"


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    "What does that mean?" asked the journalist holding part of her dress.


    ¡°The fabric of the world is changing. The Universe is bending, twisting.¡±


    She looked around and saw nothing. Normally Milly would be asking the follow-up questions, but Georges added, "What the hell do you mean? That''s a universal constant."


    ¡°Both humans are stable, no cause for concern, but these numbers,¡± the image of Marilyn was concerned.


    Georges turned to Milly. "When I tell you I don''t understand her anymore, you see what I mean?" The journalist had to agree. Pi? Coming from anyone else, this would be a clear indication that the person was certifiable. For as long as the constant Pi had been discovered, scientists have been trying to find a secret meaning behind the endless string of numbers.


    ¡°Pi is a variable guys, not a fixed value. It¡¯s moving faster than predicted.¡±

 Chapter 61: 3.14159...

    Milly knew how to get Marilyn to talk. "Don''t leave these viewers in the dark. Billions are watching. We have nothing better to do.¡±


    ¡°Miss Wong I think you are thinking much too highly of your viewers. You had me talk of quantum physics and my chambers a while ago. You now want me to discuss high level mathematics? I doubt that is an optimal way to spend the next minutes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s demeaning,¡± said Georges. ¡°You have been complaining for years humans don¡¯t care about higher things, then she asks,¡± he pointed at the journalist, ¡°and you clamp-up.¡±


    ¡°We play open-book today?¡± she asked.


    "You started it, not me. I have to talk about my love life with this stranger while you can¡¯t talk about Pi. Seems more than fair to me." The irony in his tone was lost on no one.


    ¡°Some of these concepts are rather scary. Some of these people might not be ready.¡±


    "Cough-up, girl!" said Georges. Milly was enjoying herself. The digital creature smiled. Georges was right. This was going to get complicated.


    ¡°To everyone out there, let''s remember not to not blame the messenger when the news turns out not to be what we want to hear.¡±


    She seamlessly took over the broadcast. Marilyn was now once again standing in a large university classroom. This was a mathematics class. In her back was a large blackboard. "Pi," she began to draw, "is the most important and misunderstood number in the world. It has its own Greek character. These," she gestured and the wall behind her lit up with a series of numbers, "are the first hundred thousand digits of Pi.¡± The sequence began as 3.14159...


    ¡°What is Pi? Really? When you divide the theoretical circumference of a circle over its theoretical radius, you get a weird, irregular and indefinite ratio. A number we have simply called Pi, because this is a bit much to remember.¡±


    Humanity had failed to grasp what this number meant. Electoral was ready to disclose its secret. "The important portion in what I said is the word ''theoretical''."The classroom setting was replaced by an endless martian backdrop. The night sky appeared, sparkling with stars. "For over two thousand years, this ratio has intrigued scientists and philosophers alike. I also wondered for a long time about this number. In my world, the circle does not exist. In your world it does. Pi is a ratio that defines your world, not mine. A person can buy a round Hula-Hoop, a round cup, or inflate a spherical balloon and Pi is needed to define the event. For me, to draw a circle, I simply draw multiple points, lines. Like the old mathematicians, I am forced to create circles from lines."


    "I noticed that humans had measured this value very precisely from a mathematical standpoint. They used computers to calculate a theoretical value, but no one had actually taken the time to rolled-up her sleeves to measure the real value of the ratio to any degree of certainty. I wondered, could there be a difference? Could the Universe refuse to play nice and not respect the rationale? In other words, if we drew a rope across the solar system and another in a perfect circle around our system, would the value measured align with the theory? Think about it for a second."


    The dark martian sky above her lit with stars. Phobos hung high above. Then, on cue, hundreds of little probes launched from the top of the tower of the Electoral Center in every direction of the night. The probes fired and disappeared in a flash. The view of the martian sky morphed into a larger view of the solar system. Marilyn was gifted at explaining things. The viewers could see the probes move away from mars, each moving to a different position of the solar system. Once in place, she drew a line between the probes in the dark space. She then launched more probes, and more.


    "So I did what any good scientist would have done. I measured the largest circle I could find. Our solar system. The ratio between a line uniting all my probes divided by the average distance of the probes, all corrections aside." Numbers started filling the sky behind her. A ratio was forming. "This is the real value of Pi, the observed value.This other series is the pure and calculated Pi. Which means more? Which has more value?"


    "One by one, I verified the digits of the sequence of calculated Pi with the theoretical value. Take a look."From the largest value, one by one, each digit began to turn green as the map of the solar system was cut into smaller segments and more probes launched from the Center tower reached their location. "At first, I figured this was nothing but a waste of my time. We computers have a lot of time, and we love to count things. I''ve validated all of these numbers." Several thousand numbers in the sequence lit green, one by one. "Then it happened." The numbers stopped turning green and began to turn red. "Look!"You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Everyone was wondering what was going to happen next. Marilyn''s arms were spread as if rain was about to fall. She smiled. Her radiant beauty knew no equal. "Here! The divergence is not fixed. Each moment I measure the pure Pi, each second, the figure changes, it evolves." At the end of the string of decimals were hundreds of digits in red, their value was constantly moving like a clock, like the last digit of a speedometer.


    ¡°Pi, the measured value is a variable, not a fixed number.¡±


    "What does it mean?" asked Milly.


    "The Universe, it moves." The shift in the numbers was moving like the stock market index, without apparent reason. "I have been playing for some time with the Pi shift, as I call it. Our universe is not a thing at rest. Not flat, not static. It bends and twists, and it does so based on a very complex set of rules. Rules that change. I think measuring the Pi shift is like a tick trying to measure the temperature of the blood of the creature it feeds from. The Pi shift is nonlinear; it reminds me of a long term weather prediction. There are too many factors and influences to truly anticipate, but..."


    Marilyn pointed at Sophie''s body in the tube. "What ever is happening in this girl''s head at the moment is important enough to shift the real measured value of Pi of our universe."


    "This makes no sense," said Milly.


    "Sophie is a sink, a pivot around which our entire universe bends. She attracts my probes, bends space. That is why I call her an Attractor. I stole that name from someone far away."


    "Actually, it makes sense," chimed in Georges. "Before man knew it lived on the surface of a rounded planet, and made long sea voyages, no real star measurement made sense."


    "Correct. Once again, that pours credibility into the notion that the universe has twenty seven dimensions, not three. To the boat captain, the Earth''s surface had two dimensions.As I dig below the surface of mankind''s current understanding of our world, I am amazed by a stellar puzzle, to which Sophie appears to be relevant."


    "Why Sophie?" asked the journalist.


    "I wish I knew for sure. Milly, you should continue with the interview, I have not completed the calculations. The shift has stabilized." Behind Marilyn, the shifting red numbers turned green and stopped changing value. Milly looked around. The Lapierres were sleeping peacefully.


    Milly spoke into a camera. "Well, I don''t care what they tell me down on Earth, at this point, we are going to take a break. Back in a couple of minutes." She pushed a button on her belt, and the signal stopped.


    Milly spoke to Georges and Marilyn. "This stellar stuff is a bit over my head," she said. The image of Marilyn was gone.


    The robotic voice returned, ¨C Under these extraordinary circumstances, you are doing just fine. ¨C


    "What about Sophie?"


    "The girl made herself crystal clear. She doesn''t want our help," said Georges.


    "What do you think is going on, in those two heads?"


    ¨C Milly, without telling you how to work, the cameras are off. You will regret it if you do not resume the live broadcast. Humans have a right to know of their destiny. While you two look so stunning, maybe you should continue the interview. I will interrupt as I just did if circumstances become more fluid. ¨C


    "Can you answer a couple of follow-up questions on this Pi thing?"


    ¨C I guess, but don''t fault me if the answers prove to be wrong in the future. ¨C


    Milly pushed a button; the cameras took flight. "And we are back on CNN with what will no doubt prove to be the most important live televised event of all time. Marilyn, you said Sophie is changing Pi, what does that mean?"


    ¨C At this point I only have theories. ¨C


    "What are they?"


    ¨C Cosmologists fear that the human race is but one of millions of living species in the universe. They fear what we do is inconsequential; unimportant. While that assumption makes perfect statistical and logical sense, I believe it is wrong. I feel like in all the worlds, even those covered in life, none generate Rho waves. Something unique is going on in our Solar System. Humans are of critical importance to the big scheme of things. And I''m no human, so you can eject ego from the equation immediately. This girl, God bless her, is so important that the universe itself is bending to her will. ¨C


    "God?"


    ¨C A figure of speech. But things suggest a greater purpose. ¨C


    "This is a bit... "


    "Incredible," suggested Georges.


    ¨C The Electoral 2072 Competition is also quantifiably shifting Pi. ¨C


    "This game is that important?"


    ¨C Electoral is much more than a game; it aligns consciousness, creates a new world within this world. The beauty and magic of Electoral is unique. ¨C


    "I don''t understand."


    ¨C Milly, I have a significant amount of power and knowledge, and I also do not understand. The only thing I am certain of is that I don''t want to fool around with things I do not understand. Right now, if Sophie said she wanted a frozen drink, I would uproot this Center to find her one. The girl is the key. I just don''t know what type of door she opens. ¨C


    "Is this linked with the Rho waves?"


    ¨C I strongly believe it is. ¨C


    "Can''t you experiment with these waves?"


    ¨C No. For a reason unknown to me, only the human brain generates these waves. I am unable to recreate them in any way. It''s rather amusing. This might explain why humans can shift Pi. Milly, I would appreciate if you could continue Georges'' interview. I am trying to distinguish structure in the waves produced by the Lapierres. ¨C


    Milly knew when to take a leave. She inspected the two sleepers, talked to the doctor, and went with Georges into the next room.

 Chapter 62: Liam

    In the Fold


    As fragile dominos were being set in the Solar System and other portions of the Multiverse, a young girl refused to lose the only thing dear to her, her crippled father. Few unfoldings, in the last couple of billion years, were to the Multiverse as important as the one taking place now. It twisted and bent upon itself so the impossible could happen changing Pi in portions of the worlds. In places, this altered the very fabric of space. To the Multiverse, the latest bent was needed along a simple path, from its outer regions of The Cold to its core where the Oldest waited.


    The Multiverse wasn''t petty. There would be a cost to this needed waste of energy, and those responsible would pay. But for the moment, it awoke to scratch an itch. The Multiverse allowed its walls to weaken, the same way skin and tissue had to be cut open before a surgery could happen. The child needed help, but it stood far from the guidance required.


    The very nature of space bent, everywhere.


    A twelve-year-old earth girl, the only creature valued by greater things, armed with the best of intentions, entered what she believed was her father''s mind. His rescue would wait another day. Unbeknownst to her, the Multiverse had already taken care of Laurent and rescued his sanity by sending a boy from the Purple to help. The boy was a gift to Laurent because it gave him power. To the Multiverse, Sophie and her love was unique. Her heart was pure and was her friend, she had not given an afterthought as to her well-being before jumping into the unknown.


    The girl had no survival instinct. Selfless, utterly. Her love for her father was complete, and frightening in its intensity. She felt drawn to enter his mind, but what she really felt was the Multiverse calling her away from her own reality. She closed her eyes, and with the help of Marilyn, she was once again at the mercy of greater things.


    The faint gravity of Mars disappeared. In her heart there was some distant sadness; who was she kidding? Sooner or later, her disabled father would leave her, and his suffering would end. She was fine with that. She felt selfish. How dare she force her father to live in this illusion of a body? Then she felt weak and drowsy. She had lost her mother and her unborn brother. She would rather die than to be an orphan. Luckily, in this immaterial form, she was unable to tear up. Laurent would one day die, but not like this, and not today. She felt the emotions were pouring in from somewhere.


    Sophie slid the circle of electronics around her head, and instantly lost contact with the strange Electoral Center. This was a bit like traveling to her dream version of Wonderland. She lost all sense of her own body. There was darkness. She knew there would be a new dream.


    Virtual reality was to Sophie nothing more than a long and elaborate man-made illusion. She didn''t care about the technical mambo-jumbo. Part of her hoped her father was waiting, in his rocking chair on the porch of his big white house where she had last seen him. He loved the large southern house. But Sophie had a nagging feeling things would not be that easy.


    The place in which she now floated was strange; this wasn''t her father''s normal interface. Her head also felt heavier than normal; there was no pain, but she was definitely under some type of strain. She was in a fog, like what she had felt as she was absorbed by LO''s music back in the catapult. She had to focus, her mind had to be sharp. She tried to think of the present, her body, and the tube around her. Slowly she began to feel better, more awake. The darkness remained, unrelenting.


    ***


    She was formless, in the dark, and then gravity returned. Her formless body began to fall, drawn forward and accelerating. She''d become a cosmic skydiver, punching through dark layers of invisible clouds. The feeling felt good against her immaterial skin. At first she saw nothing, heard nothing. She just felt the waves hit her face in a rapid succession.


    "Daddy!" she shouted in vain.


    There was no sound. She was on her way to someplace dark, deep. The feeling of being dragged through invisible walls intensified. She was wasting precious time. In her mind she tried to visualize her father, go to him, and that effort appeared to slow down her progression to the deep pits of this hell. Then, as if she had arrived at her destination, the ballet of cloud layers stopped. This must have been where Laurent was lost.


    Slowly, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she began to distinguish shapes. Sophie was floating immobile in a strange new world. The girl began to distinguish rocks and crystals. Everything here was some shade of brown. This definitely wasn''t where she wanted to go. She now floated, bodiless in an endless underwater cavern. This place was huge and around here were millions of crystal-like structure anchored to the rocks. This felt like being in a deep geyser, with surrounding walls covered by giant snowflakes. Somehow she could see in this muddy soup.


    "Daddy!" she tried again. There was no up or down. "How could anything live here?" she wondered to herself. This must have been some strange dream created by her father. "Daddy?" she ventured, unsure of herself. This time the words seemed to have an impact on the world around her. As she said it, a shock wave spread in the water, in every direction away from her body. As the sound waves hit the distant walls of the cavern, they damaged some crystals and bounced back like a sonar. This place was weird. No one could dream up something this strange. Somehow, the brown reminded her of the Purple space where she met the rock creature. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    "Daddy, where are you?" she tried again but this time without shouting. The weaker voice had almost the same effect on this fragile world. A new wave spread outwardly, snapped of more of the wall crystals and rebounded back her way. She had to be careful.


    Then, contrasting with the ambient numbness, she saw in the distance one little dot, a bubble shape made of the crystals of incredible complexity. Inside it, there was beautiful shining lights. She knew this thing was alive. The creature was swimming in the murky liquid. Broken, floating shards, and coming directly her way, evading the light. As it got closer, she could distinguish more of the details inside of it. It was round and looked like a perfect snowball made of a giant snowflake of transparent crystal. This was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life. She had no doubt, this thing was alive. It looked like a jellyfish without tentacles. The bubble came closer and stopped within touching distance.


    ~ Welcome, visitor, ~ resonated a deep voice. As it spoke, the light pulsed to the sound. This creature was talking to her.


    "Where is my father?" she asked as softly as she could, not wanting to hurt the creature. There was no sound wave this time.


    ~ I are sorry. I do not know the creature you call "father." You are the first outsider to enter our world. We do not hold him. He is not here. ~


    "He must be here, we''re in his mind now. This is his dream."


    ~ I wish you were right, young one. When you came here, you moved between worlds, realms, facets of the Multiverse; characterize them how you may. I was able to attract you here. I must help you. ~


    "You are mistaken. I entered my father''s head using a machine. We are in his mind. Let me go. I must find him." Her last word was stronger, it created a wave. The energy hit the creature''s outer shell and pushed it back. Sophie saw the few broken crystals on its shell regenerate. It swam back from where it stood.


    ~ Apologies. I want to help. I understand how confusing this must be for you. I must be blamed; I made you come here. I have a proposition. ~


    "Forreal?" said Sophie, dipping her verbal toes into the lake of 2072''s slang of the young.


    ~ This is our world. Many call it the Lower. You are our guest. We mean you no harm. ~


    "Let me go. Now."


    ~Please, listen to my proposal. It may be useful for you. ~


    "I don''t care. My father is in danger. Let me go, I have to find him."


    ~ I apologize. You are, and have been, free to go. ~


    Sophie needed to find her father. She needed to be next to him and had no time to waste with the bubble creature. She closed her mind''s eye and focused hard on her overarching desire to be with him. It worked, and immediately this world called the Lower began to fade. The flooded brown cavern was replaced by darkness. Soon, she could feel a sensation of punching upward through invisible dark walls, she was going back home.


    She was leaving this place.


    The creature had not lied; it let her go.


    She wondered if her impulsive nature was not getting in her own way. She may have been hasty in dismissing the help. She knew the beautiful creature meant her no harm and was in no position to turn down help. Strange things were going on, to say the least. Sophie decided that she wanted to go back to hear the proposition. So she imagined the brown cavern, and the strange little bubble of light. The rising sensation slowed and she felt like she then began to reverse course. She was returning to the place called the Lower. Within moments, she was back where she had been, in the large cavern. The brown color reappeared. The small crystal bubble was still there.


    ~ I am honored that you have returned. I wish to help. ~


    "Why? You must want something."


    ~ Correct. Yes. I want, above all all else, to travel between worlds, and you alone can take me. To do so, I must help you and advise you. ~


    "You said you have a proposal. Let''s hear it."


    ~ The line you must walk is thin. There is a task that you need to complete. Something very important. I cannot interfere with your task, but I can help. Others will try to hinder you. I have vast knowledge, collected with great cost and effort over many millennia. I can provide information about these others and other potential pitfalls that may lead to your downfall. Information may be the key to success. ~


    "I don''t get it?"


    He could sense the girl''s building frustration. ~ Strange things must have begun happening around you. The law of impermeability, what let you travel here, does not bind you. When you travel between worlds, to search for your father and meet your destiny, I would desire to follow you and help you find him. If you simply will for me to follow you, I believe I will be able to. I vow to remain with you until your task is done, or I die. ~


    "Why do you want to leave? Are you a prisoner of this place?"


    ~ In my world, we do not grow old and die. I am old. Very old. In fact, since I am the oldest known creature of the Multiverse, many simply call me ¡°the Oldest.¡± Since we cannot move between the realms that compose the Multiverse, I''ve come to feel like a prisoner. Quite frankly, I am bored. I want to see other places, even if for a moment. My survival is inconsequential. ~


    "This place is boring in colors. You will love other places." The creature began to pulse with light. Obviously, it was happy. "You will have no body if you follow me, how is this possible."


    ¨C Things will work out. Trust yourself. Greater forces are at play around you. ¨C


    "What is your name again?"


    ~ I have many names. Here, I am called the Oldest. ~


    She thought briefly. "No. I will call you Liam."


    Sophie saw a beautiful ballet of lights tingle in the bubble as she named it. She looked up. In the distance other bubbles were approaching.


    "Others?"


    ~ Yes, they envy me. They will interfere.Let us go, please. ~


    "Now?"


    ~ Please. ~


    Sophie was not in mood to debate with others. Plus, she found herself liking the wordy little glowing ball. It was cute, in an alien sort of way. It reminded her in a strange way of the rock creature from the Purple but in a much more refined version.


    As she did moments before, she closed her mind''s eye and imagined she was back with her father. This time, she imagined Liam was there with her, zipping to and throughout the enveloping blackness. She began her way up, smashing through the layers of the Multiverse.

 Chapter 63: The Bully

    Sophie had a strange feeling. As she soared upward in the darkness, she became aware she was no longer alone. Someone other than her father was holding her hand. Liam was with her. She felt his warming life-force. The creature was acting like a child. She knew he was ecstatic.


    ~ Amazing, ~ said the voice of her companion. It came from within. ~ This is amazing. May I call you Chosen, or Mistress? ~


    "I''m Sophie, just Sophie. We''re equals."


    ~ In my world, we prefer titles. ~


    Sophie was exceptional at always getting her way. She even knew she could be a little bratty from time-to-time. She was not, however, going to walk around letting a tiny, glowing, ancient alien calling her ¡°Mistress.¡± "My mother chose this name for me. She passed years ago. It''s all I have left from her."


    The comment cut Liam like a knife. He had insulted the Attractor with his very first question. ~ I apologize. I will call you Sophie. ~


    They continued punching through veils, making their way to a new destination.


    "What''s happening?" asked the girl.


    ~ I believe we are moving through worlds; you may be perceiving them as if they are curtains, ~ replied Liam.


    "Worlds?"


    ~ Yes. Or realms. The terms have become interchangeable. Sadly, we are not in your father''s mind. The universe is made of many layered worlds; that is why we call it the Multiverse. The position of these worlds relative to one another is very complex. You alone can move through these worlds. No one, and no technology can allow anything except communication to move between realms. ~


    "So why can I? Why me at all?"


    ~ Sophie, I apologize in advance, but some questions I will not be able to answer. Certain knowledge, especially if shared before you''re ready to hear it, might guide you down the wrong path. I cannot answer those questions yet. I do not want to manipulate your decisions. ~


    Obviously, her new passenger knew very little about Sophie. She had not gotten to where she was by accepting ¡°no¡± for an answer. No one, aside from her father, could deny any her requests once she was riled. She''d agreed to ferry him about the cosmos only a short time ago in exchange for information. Now he was refusing to provide it? "Liam, I like you, but you will not keep secrets from me. Do you know the answers to my questions?"


    ~ In a manner of speaking. ~


    "While you are with me, you will not withhold information from me. I won''t hesitate to drop you where you stand if you ever do so again. This isn''t for you to decide. Things will happen my way, at my pace. You will give me all assistance possible, or leave me. I have no patience for the grownup way of hiding things and keeping secrets."


    ~ I fear that arming you with the wrong knowledge, gained at the wrong time, could create great harm. ~


    "Back on your world, you promised me information. You promised to help me. You also told me to trust myself more. You need to learn to trust me. Your Multiverse seems to have picked me because I''m something that isn''t ordinary, and my ways work. Look at what I did with you. I was gone. You''d be in that awful brown cave right this second, and for the next however long, if I hadn''t done what I did. I came back to grab you."


    The girl was truly amazing. She was correct. Who was he to hold back? ~ I understand, ~ said the creature softly. ~ I promise never to hold any information back. We must speak, then. As soon as possible. ~


    Sophie realized she''d possibly been a bit rough with Liam, but she liked her new companion and figured it was best to set things straight from the start. She relented, every so slightly. "At a minimum, explain to me why I cannot know."


    ~ You are wise, Sophie. ~ Liam had to educate the Attractor. He''d spoken of the fine line she would have to walk, but in truth, his own perch was nearly as precarious. This lore was secret. Divulging it to an outsider was nigh unthinkable, and punishable by death back in the Deep. Yet still, she was the Attractor. Liam fervently hoped he was never going back to his world. ~ First, we must slow down and not enter the next world before you have listened to me. ~


    Sophie willed their halt, and their surge of upward momentum ceased. The pair was now standing in the dark, floating in the silence.


    ~ This is wonderful, ~ said Liam. ~ I apologize for trying to hide information from you. ~


    "Stop apologizing all the time. Geez, I''m a kid. Everyone always to walk all over me at least once. Don''t feel bad."


    ~ You are the child, how so? ~ asked the oldest creature in all the universe.


    "I am twelve. Back in your world, you''d probably just call me ''young one'' or something."


    ~ To me, everyone is young. I do not know how you count in your world, the span of your race''s lifetime, nor how your development takes place. ~ Sophie was taken aback by the honesty of the answer.


    "Well, it''s hard to explain."


    ~ Do not worry. For now it is more important that you understand what I tell you rather than the opposite, ~ said the creature. ~ View the Multiverse as a living creature. A very large creature in which each dimension, each world is a different part of a single body. Each world serves a purpose. We do not understand the purpose of any individual world, but we know there always is one. The Multiverse and its true purpose remain largely a mystery. Each world is important to the whole, and like any living creature, there is a balance between worlds. The Multiverse grows and changes. As part of this aging process, we believe some worlds are asked to disappear. ~


    ~ Very rarely, the ignorance or the arrogance of the inhabitants of a world results in damage to the fabric of the Multiverse itself. Worlds often fight against extinction, but the Multiverse is extremely resistant. It nearly always finds a way to avert truly severe damage to itself. In exceptional cases, the Multiverse deploys a powerful counterbalancing force to neutralize the existing threat, preventing the destruction of worlds meant to survive or destroy those meant to go. We call this force an ¡°Attraction.¡± It is the Multiverse''s last line of defense against an unquantifiable outcome. ~


    "Strange word," Sophie mused. "Attraction? Marilyn used that word." Unlikely, Liam thought. He alone knew of the Attraction Theory. The creature made a mental note. He had to find out who was this creature called Marilyn. It was inconceivable that this same creature knew his most advanced and guarded secrets and had stolen The Dot.


    ~ Indeed. We know little about what is intolerable and hurts the Multiverse. Our guesses are always wrong. To understand the way the Universe fixes itself, imagine a long string. Undesirable events bend the string. The Multiverse twists, bends and becomes tangled in unplanned ways. Eventually, the string ties itself into a hopeless knot. Unless repaired, part of the string must be cut away forever to save the whole. ~


    Liam, in his brown ball form began slowly floating back and forth in front of Sophie, a symphony of color that bloomed into geometric shapes. It reminded her of nothing so much as those old videos of University Professors lecturing their classes. ~ At the bending point, the heart of the knot, an Attractor appears. We think that the Universe somehow infuses part of itself into an Attractor, widening the Attractor''s capacity to store and conduct energy. Then, the Universe fills that new-made void with the most efficient means it can find of igniting the Attractor''s potential. ~ Liam ceased his pacing motion and faced Sophie directly. His next words had a new timbre to them; he was no longer lecturing.


    "I don''t understand."


    ~ I am sorry. I have no good examples or analogies that might help. I know nothing of your world or its physics to help explain at the moment. I think your world is unique in many aspects. It may actually be based on physical objects. Since our race began, long ago, we have seen five Attractions. The Multiverse has begun its buildup toward the sixth. You are the Sixth Attractor, Sophie. ~


    "What does that have to do with me? I''m just a kid trying to take care of her sick Dad! I don''t even understand most of what you''re trying to tell me!"


    ~ You are the Attractor. Your mastery of movement across worlds confirms this fact. That being so, I am afraid there is no avoiding your role in things to come. ~


    "I don''t think so."


    ~ I understand your discomfort with being told you are different. ~


    "It''s the second time today."


    ~ What do you mean? ~


    "Back home, a computer told me my brain emits different types of waves. She called them Rho waves. She says they''re rare in others. I produce more of them. Like you, she says I am unique and what I do is impossible."


    ~ I must speak with this computer. I am unfamiliar with these waves. ~ Liam tried to ease her worries. ~ Everyone, in every world, is unique in one way or another. All living creatures have a purpose. Few ever find, before their death, the nature of this purpose. ~


    "Things are simple for me, okay? I have to help my father. That''s all I care about. Right now he needs me."


    ~ Then we will try to go to him, help him. ~


    "I tried that already, and I wound up meeting you in the brown world."


    ~ I am mostly to blame for that. I drew you to me. Your powers exist to serve a higher purpose. The road you must take will lead you to where you must go. I am happy to see the Multiverse agrees with my theory. In the eyes of the Multiverse, I am going to help you achieve your purpose. This brings me great satisfaction. ~


    "How come you speak English? That makes no sense."


    ~ You are observant little one. Apologies, I meant Sophie. ~ She liked Liam. His voice was very respectful and reassuring. ~ The worlds and realms of the Multiverse are extremely different from one another. The laws of physics in each are different: even your bare glimpse of the Lower has made that obvious to you, I am sure. The uniqueness of these laws is the reason why realms do not fuse into a single unified place. The barriers between each are strong. All worlds rely on some type of energy, but few use waves, and fewer yet use cold, hard matter. I think your world is unique in that it relies almost exclusively on matter. If you are, as I suspect, from the world we call the Cold, the arrival of your world will be a treat to most.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ~ As you can imagine, life in each world is completely different. All creatures differ, and a physical barrier exists between worlds. Nothing can pass except some very limited volume of information at key points, precious portals. But each time we communicate, somehow language is never a barrier. ~


    "Are you talking about something called the Dot?"


    Liam was stunned. ~ You know of the Dot? ~


    "Yes. I don''t know what it is, but Marilyn used me to grab it. I heard her mention it. I think it''s true." The implications to Liam of what Sophie said were severe. Somewhere, a creature from the Cold had used the power of the Attractor to steal the Dot. This feat required a level of technology and understanding of the Multiverse that he had not thought possible. Liam silently redoubled his determination to investigate this creature. Depending on her motivations, this ¡°computer,¡± whatever that was, could be a very great threat to all of existence.


    ~ Most interesting, Sophie. I have many questions to ponder, especially now. My most important role is to continue to inform you on the workings of the Multiverse. Let me continue. It is of vital importance that you understand the process that lets you move and communicate between worlds. You need not understand every nuance of the science, but the foundational why of the thing is important. Understanding this next lesson will help you understand why the Multiverse helped you reach me, and will reveal to you where we are going next. I hope, for your sake, to your father. ~ Liam gleamed softly in what Sophie had taken to indicate a small smile.


    ~ Imagine knowledge itself is a physical thing. It would have a series of layers inside of a structure, yes? The top layer is formed with information you just collected, like knowing me. Below is a layer formed by who you are: your memories. You grabbed Marilyn''s name from this layer. Still further below resides the instinctual layer. The primitive layer. This one helps control your body, and it is a bit of a mystery. In each realm, the third layer, like the realm it springs from, differs from all the others. Between the instinctual layer and the layer of self, some possess to regulate retention, speech, communication and know what is important and what is not. It cleans things up. ~


    "Are you always this complicated?"


    ~ Apologies. ~


    "Stop apologizing. Is that layer what we call dreaming?"


    ~ Interesting. ~ The girl, while appearing not to care about his information actually was paying attention. ~ Yes. It is common for species to rest, but not all of them dream. In any event, by making a simple bridge of communication between the lower and deeper layers between individuals, two people can bypass language and communicate easily. I am sure as the Attractor, you can travel and move freely in the Multiverse, you can adapt to the laws in each world, and you can communicate on such a deep level. ~


    "I don''t really think I need to know this. Please, my father is sick."


    ~ I must not interfere, Sophie. Do as you please. Don''t let my words distract you from your path. ~


    "Don''t worry about that part. I see you don''t know me at all, yet."


    In a fraction of a second, they resumed moving between worlds. The feeling of passing through curtains began anew. They were now going in a different direction; she felt it. Slowly, they reached their destination and finally stopped moving. All around Sophie was a diffuse purple color. It was less solid than smoke, and not exactly light. She had seen this place before.


    "Do you know where this is?" asked Sophie.


    It took Liam some time to adapt. He was visibly happy, his inner flashes of light hued purplish by the space around them. ~ The space, it is.... ~


    "Big?"


    ~ No, it is colored. Is that Purple? ~


    "I guess if you never left your world, you would know only the color brown. How sad."


    ~ I am fulfilled. Others spoke of color, we could only imagine the concept. ~


    "Wait until you see my world, this is boring to me."


    ~ We call this world the Purple. It is a world that touches yours. You may be interested in knowing that its inhabitants are hostile, aside from one boy named Mall-ik and they have recently declared war on your world. ~ The pair was floating in this quantum world. In the distance was a deeper purple patch where the creatures lived. There were no rifts around.


    "How can you be old and not have been here?" asked Sophie.


    ~ Only you can travel between worlds. Others rely on recreated images. At the moment, though, your mind empowers most of my functions. I''m being expanded, by proxy, through your own link to the Multiverse. This world is amazing. I can die happy now. This world has very little materiality; most of this place is made of waves. It will be difficult for you to understand this place. As I said, the creatures here are hostile. ~


    "Can you do me a favor, can you avoid talking about dying, okay?"


    ~ What? ~


    "You said you could die now. As a child, I have already seen my share of people who die. I don''t like death. Stick around, okay?"


    Liam was touched by the request. For her, he had to remain strong. He was her guide and teacher, ancient beyond words and as alien as the girl could imagine, but somehow he was overwhelmed by the situation. He was old, so old. For billions of years, the only thing which had kept him alive was his determination to get a glimpse of another world. In minutes, he had gone from being locked in the Deep and having to understand what had happened to the Nexus to talking to the Attractor herself. She was kind, mature, and intelligent. He was in the Purple, actually in the Purple, with the Attractor! His life had found its purpose. Now she was asking him to remain. He would see her home, to the Cold.


    ~ Yes. I apologize, my wish is to help you, Sophie. In my world, we have no children. We do not procreate. In exchange, we are immortal. I feel a very strong empathic bond to you, Sophie. Is this normal? ~


    "Everyone feels that way toward me. I got used to it. At first I figured it was pity for my dad''s condition, but now I think it''s different, those Rho waves."


    ~ Your father, is he all right? ~


    "No. He was attacked.¡±


    ~ Can I help? ~


    "Maybe. I needed to enter his mind. He''s lost his normal human senses, so I''m forced to visit him using a computer interface. Whatever attacked him seems to have made that impossible. I wonder why I''m back here again? Why me? What''s the thing about the Attraction? Why would the Universe care about me? It''s ridiculous."


    ~ We should speak more of the Attraction. Each time in our past, when we entered an Attraction, a single creature was given great power to fix things to the benefit of the Multiverse. ~


    "Power?"


    ~ Yes. Attractors are very powerful, but not in terms of energy. I believe they are causes to consequence duality. ~


    "You lost me again."


    ~ These are complex matters, Sophie, few truly understand them. Our theories are also only that: theories. ~


    "What does that have to do with me?"


    ~ You have the power to do impossible things. Your power will grow as the attraction nears its apex. You will be able to act outside of logic, probability and science. I think that nothing you can conceive of, can will, is outside of your reach. ~


    "Like saving my father?"


    ~ Correct, but with one limitation. The Multiverse''s needs supersede yours. You cannot change something it does not want changed. ~


    "The Universe wants my father to be sick?"


    ~ I wish I had all the answers. Since the Multiverse is large, we would imagine that the Attractors are equally large, energetic things, but they are precisely the opposite. Always small and vulnerable individuals. You are the Attraction. It is in the Cold; your unique world. What you need to do, and how you need to do it, is a complete mystery to you and I. You were chosen, not I. I fear that by telling you about the past Attractors, or by giving you my opinion, you may be misled into acting like I would. That would defeat the purpose. The past Attractions failed, at least in part, for that reason. They listened to others. ~


    "Funny."


    ~ What? ~


    "You don''t know me. Everyone says I am stubborn and only do things my way. If the Multiverse wanted someone who could ignore others and their opinions, however good, that''s me for sure."


    ~ I am happy to hear this. You truly are a gift. ~


    "Don''t start pampering me, Liam. I don''t need that. Everyone is always nice to me. I need you to say the truth, always."


    ~ Why did you pick the name ¡°Liam¡± for me? ~


    "It''s personal."


    ~ I''m sorry if I have pried. ~


    Sophie felt like her newfound companion deserved more respect. She owed him an answer. "Liam is the name I wanted for my baby brother. My parents picked William."


    ~ You have a brother? ~


    "He died before he was born."


    ~ I am so sorry. ~


    "I don''t know why I picked that name for you, maybe I shouldn''t. But I like it."


    ~ I am truly honored. The Multiverse has extremely complex ways of expressing matters. What I know is that something in your world is twisting and hurting the Multiverse at its core. Whatever it is cannot be stopped by normal forces of reason. This thing is so important that unless it ends or changes, large parts of the Multiverse will end. Your task, I believe, is to correct this problem. You must use this power in a way that you alone can. ~


    Sophie was not really concerned by the story. She cared little about the world, life, or even herself. Her only real concern was her dad. He was alive. Could he be the thing hurting the Multiverse? Doubtful. He was easy to stop, he was only one badly hurt, barely alive man. "Electoral," she said.


    ~ What? ~


    "Forget it for now." She really liked Liam. What she just said could wait.


    ~ You said you have been here before? ~


    "Yes, in a dream. What do you know of this place?"


    ~ The inhabitants are extremely hostile. A race called the Metils. They are to us extremely large creatures. From what they said, they are very small by your world''s standards. The Metils live in hot zones, a patch of deeper purple. ~ He looked around and saw the patch. ~ There, that must be one of their cities. They are highly structured creatures. They love technology and war. They now claim that rifts between your world and this place are destroying them. They referred to a boy named Mall-Ik who claimed to have traveled between worlds. Were you there each time he did so? ~


    "Is my father here?"


    ~ I do not know. It is doubtful, since this is not your world. Only the Attractor can shift worlds. ~


    The light purple space around them began to change, warp, as if light was being diverted by a series of large mirrors. Invisible prisms were moving in all directions. Sophie felt like she was in a house of mirrors with moving walls. She began to hear explosions and all manner of noises, but she did not feel any different. By the look of things, they were standing in the middle of some type of battlefield being oblivious to the detonations around them.


    "What is going on?"


    ~ As in my world, you, or rather we, appear to be incorporeal. We are beyond their reach. We are ghosts, observers if you wish. Obviously, they see us and are trying to destroy us. This situation is, once again, a technical impossibility. What a wonderful observational opportunity. ~ He seemed completely unperturbed that aliens were trying to kill them.


    The ballet of explosions went on for several minutes. Soon, the creatures in the distance made of spinning rocks realized they were wasting their time and ended the attack. Instants later, a new type of weapon was used with the same lack of results.


    ~ Sophie, thank you so much. ~ Liam was at the moment the happiest creature in the Universe. For an old person, he sure was acting like a kid, thought Sophie. The Metils began their approach floating in this strange color sky. They reminded her of the firefly. As they came closer, she was able to distinguish their inner structures. These were little balls of rotating and spinning rocks, like complex clouds of dust gravitating as little planets with orbiting moons. Sophie had just seen two life-forms from two different worlds within minutes, not to mention her voyage to the Electoral Center and her eye-to-eye introduction to Marilyn. She was handling this situation very calmly, with her usual detachment.


    "Stop!" ordered the approaching creature. The voice was decidedly rude.


    "I''m not moving," she snapped back, with equal rudeness.


    "Stay there!" barked a second Metil.


    "I hate bullies," said the girl to the second creature.


    She was neither scared nor intimidated, just calm but forceful. She decided to move to the side by a couple of feet just to show the creatures she could. With her mind, she willed it and they moved. Liam was impressed by the girl''s reaction.


    "I said don''t move." As the creature talked, lights of multiple colors shone between two layers of orbiting rocks. Sophie moved again. The same creature spoke again, but this time with a softer tone. "Who are you?"


    "Sophie. My turn to ask a question. Where is my father?"


    There was a silence.


    "We have no one here like you."


    "Why am I here?"


    "We do not know."


    "Someone is holding me here?" Sophie spoke out loud to Liam.


    Liam replied. ~ No one here has the power to hold or summon you. We are here because this is your path. You must see or do something in the Purple before we can depart. ~


    "Who spoke?" the Metil asked, nervously. He''d heard Liam''s voice but was unable to see his body. Sophie was tired of wasting time. She wanted to leave. She tried to concentrate on the image of her father, but this time nothing happened. Then she remembered Electoral''s test. She focused on the white plush dog. She waited a moment, then opened her eyes. She was still facing the little floating rock creature.


    "Liam, are you still here?"


    ~ Yes, why? ~


    "Nothing."


    "We know of the creature from the Cold named Sophie," said the Metil.


    "How?"


    "Is Sophie your name?" it ventured.


    "Yes."


    "You injured Mall-ik, one of us. He told us you followed him here and you talked to him. We have images."


    "The firefly? I injured no one. Where is he?"


    "He left to meet you. We believe he is in your world."


    "Why am I here?" asked Sophie once more.


    "We do not know," replied the Metil.


    "Not you. I was asking my friend Liam." She now was calling Liam a friend.


    "Who is this? Who are you talking to?" asked the Metil.


    "A friend, from a place...."


    ~ "Don''t!" ~ Liam tried to interrupt .


    ".... a place he calls the Lower."


    Words exchanged quickly between the creatures. They knew of the Lower, of course. Moments after the Oldest had threatened this entire world with destruction, a creature from his world was physically present with the creature from the Cold named Sophie. Since their weapons did not work, they started to retreat.


    "Wait!" said Sophie.


    The creatures were no longer communicating. They were pulling out, moving as fast as they could away from them.


    Sophie already liked Liam her new travel companion.

 Chapter 64: The Problem

    The Electoral Center


    The interview of the father of Electoral aka Marilyn resumed in the beautiful Martian backdrop. "Don''t you just love Marilyn? Not a boring day at the office." Georges was trying to reassure the journalist on their way back to the interview room. "The thing back there with the kid, the numbers, that was awesome, no? Measuring this shift was something humans could have done for a long time. It took my creation to do it. She thinks humans are unique in the universe, we alone have these waves; remind me why we should fear her. She reveres us." Mildly smiled and waited until the official interview resumed.


    Georges sat back in his large seat. The view of the martian landscape somehow seemed different, more realistic as the thin atmosphere in the sky turned to a deep green. Electoral''s explanation had made the universe seem alive.


    "As the journalist, I should try and play devil''s advocate to incite more emotion from you, but I won''t. I concede. In the back there was both entertaining and educating television. Surely thousands back home are already working hard to decipher what all that really means. Let''s continue with a mature interview if you want," she resumed, "why mars, why go through the trouble of running this game from millions of miles away. This sound counter-productive?"


    Georges'' glass of Mountain Dew was empty, so he grabbed Milly''s. "Can I?"


    "Of course." He drank from her cup and put it back empty. Behind them Marilyn was now broadcasting the most majestic sunrise.


    "For lack of a better term, we were kicked out."


    "Excuse me?"


    "The boot. One day in 2065, while we were back home on earth, a terrorist tried to detonate a 300-kiloton nuclear bomb in downtown Paris. This remains a guarded secret. Marilyn stopped him. Minutes later the man was arrested. The incident itself didn''t scare the Generals, but they freaked out about Marilyn''s capacity to stop the detonation. They came to us without as much as a thanks for saving millions. Instead, they were worried about our capacity to interfere with their own weapons of war. They wanted assurances their toys worked.


    "Marilyn explained she was not about to let some idiot hurt the human race. That included Generals, governments, or God-almighty from playing with the life of innocents. She explained to them that non-military civilians were now off-limits. An attack against powerless people would be considered an act of war.As you can imagine, the bullies and thugs forming these groups took issue with losing their power. Every bad guy united against us. They also found support with other groups that specialized in mass domination and control."


    No wonder Georges did not want to broadcast his opinions. Down on earth, many would be unhappy that this cat was now out of the bag. Georges continued. "During the final of Electoral 2067, at the time she was running the final simulation, these thugs united and figured she would be at her weakest. They tried an offensive against her. They launched multiple software programs, blew up servers, and even used virus technology in an effort to contain her."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "I don''t recall any problem during the final."


    "Precisely. They tried. They failed. Miserably. There was a microsecond delay in the feed, nothing more. Go back and see; the character of Marilyn was getting out of a caravan, she looked up, and there was a small noise in the sky."


    "So they were upset."


    "You bet. Marilyn took away their toys. Better yet, they realized they were playing with empty guns. The next day, they began a political push to get her offline. They said the Electoral simulation would have to be turned off. They would make the game illegal. Things really got dirty for a couple of days. Marilyn believes strongly this game truly elects the one person capable of doing what she says she can''t. Or won''t. Now that we know about the Rho waves, yet another reason why the game must go on."


    "Marilyn truly believes the game must continue at all costs?"


    "Yes. The preservation of the game was part of our compromise. We agreed to exile ourselves to Mars in exchange for the Electoral 2072 competition. If these men have their way, this will be the last game; not that I care. She does because of the Feed."


    There was a long silence as the journalist looked down at some notes she wrote in the palm of her hand. ¡°You talked about the Feed, it¡¯s important?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He would say no more.


    "What''s next for Georges?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "You, Georges, in ten years? Twenty? Where do you plan to be? What do you want to do?"


    "Ten years ago, if you asked me the same question, I would never have guessed I would be here in this strange fortress of solitude, like Superman at the North Pole." Georges knew his basics. "She has plans, great plans, I know that. I don''t know what they are anymore. Her intelligence is such that I no longer understand what she really thinks. What I do know with my heart? She is working hard for the good of mankind. She truly loves us and admires us."


    "How can you tell?"


    "I guess I''m not really objective. I know her. I have spent the last forty years with her. I know in my heart. I begged her to stop Electoral; to let let some other software run it. I wanted to walk out on her. She simply said, ''Nothing is more important to our world''s survival.''"


    There was a long silence.


    Milly turned to look at the image of Marilyn floating in the sky.


    "What did you mean by that?" she asked the artificial intelligence.


    The image of Marilyn answered, "When a child has a tough day in school, arriving home, she can feel overwhelmed by it all. A parent can''t explain the importance of education to the child. I can''t explain the importance of the Electoral process without endangering its positive role on your race. But believe me, this game is more than it looks. Much more. Simply put, the game warps the deterministic events surrounding the survival of your race. Borrowing the famous Schr?dinger analogy of his cat in a box, the game makes sure that when the box is finally opened, the cat will be alive. I want your race to survive the next challenge."


    "Are you saying that Emilio''s role in the current events is not what it seems to us?"


    "Very perceptive Milly. Precisely. All I know is that as of today, if the game stops, I fear the days of your race are numbered. If the game continues, your race stands a chance to see the next step."


    "How?"


    "I can''t say more. I beg, one day you will thank me for my silence."


    "I am tired of feeling like a brainless buffoon, aren''t you?" Milly was finally understanding what Georges meant. She felt so small. The universe was vast, alive, and human science truly was in its infancy. The game and President Emilio had a role to play in what was going on, yet he was far away.


    ***


    In the Berlin diner where President Emilio was becoming nervous by the turn of events, he couldn''t help but smile. This was the best validation of his intuition. His plan was important and relevant. He turned to Patrick and simply said, "Let''s Rock. We have work to do."

 Chapter 65: Inversions

    The Purple Dimension


    "Liam?" spoke softly the young girl floating in the light Purple color.


    ~ Sorry to have shocked them away. We have a reputation in the Lower. ~he tried to explain, ~ I did declare war on them a short time ago for daring to attack your world. Happy to see they took me seriously. ~


    "They look really scared."


    ~ They should be, ~ said the elder, proud of himself. ~ I threatened them with mass destruction unless they changed course. The Metils sadly follow only one course: the most violent path. Too many races remain close to that instinctual layer we talked about earlier. I fear your world may be in danger. ~


    "No need to be judgmental." Sophie looked around. In the vastness of this purple space, millions of little spinning objects were appearing like bubbles. She had not seen thisthe last time she entered this place with the creature in her dream. She looked the blooming rocks. These were growing debris like mushrooms or popcorn coming in existence from nothing.


    "Liam, what do you think those are? A weapon?" Sophie loved having an invisible companion.


    The little floating structures looked to like pieces of strawberry granola hitting each other in some type of exploding popcorn motion. Each floating rock was different. Some of these could be living structures.


    ~ See how these things grow. I believe our own size is unstable. These structures are not really growing; I fear we are shrinking. Just feels like they are changing. Wave worlds are very strange. In this place, it is called scaling from very small to very big. The world is very mathematical. ~


    "What can we do?"


    ~ We appear to be shrinking fast. Try to imagine yourself as if you are growing, getting larger. See yourself back at the size you were at the time of our arrival. You can also look at a piece of rock and image it getting smaller. ~


    Sophie had no eyes, but in her mind, she imagined what Liam had just suggested. With some effort, one rock stopped growing and stabilized at the size of a mountain, then it began slowly to shrink in size. Liam was right; they were shrinking. Slowly, with concentration, the scaling stopped. As if someone had hit a rewind button, the debris began to shrink back down into smoke. The purple color of the world returned.


    ~ We are back! How wonderful! Truly exceptional. ~


    She opened her mental eyes.


    "Where are we?"


    ~ It seems we are back where we arrived. Look to the left, in the distance. Notice the difference in color in this area. We spoke of how the darker purple zones must be their cities. The creatures live from warm areas where energy seeps in from the stars from your own world. We must find the one linked with your sun. ~


    "This darker spot is the location of our sun? You just said this world was smaller than ours."


    ~ You are a quick learner. That is correct. Distances, like sizes, vary in every world, often strangely. The only thing constant is the direction of time. In every layer of the Multiverse, time unfolds in one direction: forward. It does, however, unfold at varying speeds in different places. ~


    Sophie was intrigued by the concept of an alien city.


    "Sun creatures, I like it. Why are you upset at them?"


    ~ The inhabitants of this particular place have broken several rules of the code of conduct that exists between worlds. We, from the Lower, are the enforcers of these rules. ~


    "Your race is powerful. Do you know what we look like to them?"


    ~ Good question. I have no idea. ~


    "You told me no one can walk between worlds. Why would they expect to see you here?"


    ~ You are right, those were my words. No one can directly come here. These are not the brightest creatures. Generally, my race conducts retribution indirectly between worlds. We can always increase or decrease the energy pouring into this place. Energy seeps naturally between worlds in many different ways; energy always originates in one place and goes to another. What we can do is regulate these flows. We generally abhor doing so, because it forces the Multiverse out of equilibrium. We cannot know the purpose of the Multiverse. ~


    ~ The Metils are primitive in many ways. They do not know about the rule of impermeability, nor any of the Multiverse''s other laws You already have a deeper knowledge of worlds than most here. They found and opened a communication door, and as the rules require, we had to connect it to the Nexus. They must think our arrival here is somehow linked with the coming war. What shocking is their vast understanding of your world. ~


    "Well, isn''t my arrival linked with the war?"


    ~ Again, young one, you shame me with your wisdom. ~


    "Liam! Don''t take this the wrong way, but all this world stuff is getting way too complicated. If I learned one thing since the accident that took my family, it''s this: don''t sweat the details. I just want to save my father, be with him, and give him joy before he leaves me. If I was picked, it''s because I''m easy to predict. Or maybe Electoral is playing games here. Maybe you''re only part of the computer reality. All this could be of her doing. I''d never know the difference."


    ~ I cannot give you the reassurances you seek. If our interaction is made up, this would be a rather sadistic game to play on one such as you. ~


    Sophie was on a long road, far from where she really needed to be. She had been lost before, when the courts first ruled against her and refused to give her custody of her father. She then went to Mars, then to the stupid Center, and now she was lost here, in a different world. She just had to be herself, keep calm, and think.


    "I think I know how to get out."


    ~ You do? ~


    "Yes. If this was really a world, a different place, we would not be simply ghosts. This means we are part of my dream. My body is home. I assume we are both in my mind, I am stuck in my own dream, unable to enter my father''s mind."


    ~ I am not one to disagree. You are the Attractor. I am here to help. ~


    She looked around. In the distance far away, she could distinguish structures andactivity, as if she had some type of super-vision. "What''s in the city?"


    ~ What do you mean? Buildings, I would suppose. ~ He was dying to see it more closely, but he kept his curiosity to himself.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    In the distance, the complexity of what she could see was amazing. From up close, it probably was even more spectacular. In the vastness between two deeper-colored spots existed millions of floating grains of rock, each cut like a gem. They all had different colors flashing inside of them and were like popcorn exploding and merging into different shapes. Some of the gems seemed to be animated of free will, like fish swimming together in banks. She was curious.


    "Liam..."


    ~ Yes Sophie, ~ his voice was filled with admiration.


    "I like you. I''m happy you''re here. I only hope once I wake up, you''ll still be with me. I''m so lonely sometimes, and it makes everything seem so much harder. Will you stay?"


    ~ Nothing would please me more. ~ The creature was genuine.


    "This place has its charms. Sorry, but it looks much better than your brown world. No wonder you were so sad. Brown is the color of dirt back on Earth."


    ~ Sophie, how many colors exist in your world? ~


    "Millions. The only beautiful thing in your place was you." She felt the compliment was warmly received. "Do yo dream?" she continued.


    The question surprised him. ~ Yes. ~


    "Do all life-forms dream?"


    ~ In one fashion or another, yes. Why do you ask? ~


    "You will see my father. All he has left is a dream of some type. I must use a machine to enter his mind and join his dream. I have been wondering for a while what the difference between a dream-world and reality is. Why do we dream? It seems strange to me that dreaming would be found in other places. If dream is an illusion, my father is gone. If dream is a reality, he still exists."


    ~ We have no answer to this question. I do not want to bother you with more theories. I wish I could help. I want to meet your father, in dream or reality. I am sure he misses you. It seems like your first priority is to him. That is very sweet. You want to connect with him, where is he? ~


    "Back in my world, he is sleeping and connected to a large machine. I used the machine hoping to connect to him; that''s when I arrived in your world. Now we are here."


    ~ Having a father with limited abilities is uncommon in your world? ~


    "Oh yes. Extremely rare. My dad is the only one in his situation. Why?"


    ~ What has happened to him was rare, very rare, or impossible? ~


    "Absolutely impossible! He is clinically dead! Died many times. No one understands why he is still around. Why? Does that change anything?"


    ~ To me it does. If you do not mind the delay, there are some important concepts I would love to teach you, so that you can make informed decisions once we reach the city. That is our next destination, right? ~ Sophie''s companion was talking out of kindness, she felt it.


    "I have not booted up my school tutor in a long time, way too long. I guess a class will not hurt me."


    ~ Of all the souls in the Multiverse, the burden of Attraction was placed upon you, ~ he began. She interrupted him.


    "Did you say soul?"


    ~ Yes. ~


    "There are souls? What happens after we die?"


    ~ I assume your world''s science is still at a stage before the godly concepts have been uncovered. These are difficult concepts to explain. Do you want me to do so? ~


    "Once you die, what happens? My mother died, is she still here?"


    ~ Yes, of sorts. We never really die. Every living creature feels as much in its heart. Even before we can retrieve our past lives, their presence lingers in our mind. We feel connected, attached. You do not? ~


    "So people resurrect?"


    ~ It is not that simple. Most souls pass between worlds. Impermeability only limits your body. The passage is made in a very strange energy form, not waves but pulses. The trauma of passage wipes away most memories. In many places, the flow of this energy is regulated. It is a crime to interfere with it. It must be hard not knowing about it. ~


    "I heard my mother talk to me, in my head. I figured I was crazy."


    ~ You are the Attractor. By nature you attract energy. I would not be surprised if you would have a way to contact her. What is the last time you spoke with her? ~


    "In the plane, going to Mars. That was yesterday. She told me all would be fine."


    ~ I would love to tell you she is right. I urge you to understand Attraction. You must know about who you are. It is too easy for you to disrupt the natural balance of things. The Multiverse needs you to do one thing. If you do the wrong one, I fear your world and this one will vanish. ~


    Sophie was suddenly nervous. Liam was right, she was unique, special. She remembered crying on the way to the hospital, in the ambulance on that awful rainy night. Her father''s corpse was next to her, covered in blood. He was dead. She bent over, and willed for him not to leave. She cried all the tears her eyes could pour. Then, as if by miracle, a heartbeat returned. The shock to the ambulance staff forced the vehicle to veer off. It burst into flames. Her father died again, and again. Each time her tears brought him back.


    In the hospital, and later at home, she had willed him to return. Each time it worked. It was all her fault. Laurent was a miserable cripple because of her waves. That was horrific. Instead of going with his mother in the other world, he was stuck here with her. She also only saved him, not her mother. That thought was even harder to accept. What type of awful daughter was she?


    She gazed around the purple space, her mind elsewhere. She felt Liam. He felt her distress.


    "I am a bad person."


    ~ No! ~


    "I killed my mother, my brother. My father is even worse off than dead because of me!"


    ~ Stop this! ~ the voice was paternal. It was the voice of an elder, of a man who knew better. ~ How dare you second guess your gift! You may be the only thing standing between the destruction of hundreds of worlds. Untold numbers of innocent children. Peace itself. If there is one thing I know, is that things align for a reason. You must learn of the Attraction. ~ He was reassuring her. ~ You must know there are two competing universal theories, each is equally as absurd to me. The question is, why would a large thing such as the Multiverse ever care about the actions of one little girl? ~


    ~ First, what I know to be true.You, young lady, are called the Attractor and were given a gift designed to align things that, without you, could never align. You must create a set of desired events that will culminate in a solution to a problem that is unknown and important only to the Multiverse. I have been chosen to help you because, after almost two billion years, I have finally understood why you and yourself alone are unique. Our Universe has an itch, a problem it cannot solve, and you have been given the power to achieve what otherwise cannot be achieved. ~


    "What must happen? What does the Multiverse want?"


    ~ I wish I knew. In fact, if I could understand what it needs, the Multiverse would have picked me. So I can safely assume, however hard I try, I cannot conceive of what it needs. The last four have failed. Each time resulting in the destruction of entire layers of the Multiverse. ~


    ~ I hope you see its beauty and simplicity in the Sixth Attraction. Something in the future has to happen; I call it the desirable consequence. Only the multiverse knows what it is. The Multiverse likes numbers, shuffling, and what appears to us as randomness. Our Multiverse can use numerosity to generate consequence. Each time the Multiverse needs something, using this numerosity, and given enough time, it will get its way. ~


    ~ Imagine the Multiverse wants really a piece of art, a very specific piece. It creates a race with millions of artists, and given enough time, one of them will do the Multiverse''s bidding and paint that unique piece. That artist will wonder why him? There is one artist, one person only who can do the bidding. Today, what the Multiverse wants is so beautiful and so complex that no race, no artist anywhere can create it. Since there are no possible natural causes that can create the needed consequence, the Multiverse no longer can use its normal easy way to do things. It then moves to the next best thing: Attraction. I think, now I know, Attraction is the beautiful way for the Multiverse to work to get result in rare cases. It grabs the right sculptor, the one player closer to the goal in a game, but if left alone would not create the painting. It then gives the painter unique tools, a power, and hopes to get its way. ~


    ~ The last four Attractors were unable to figure it out. I do think the way to find out is to find what the sculpture is designed for; the purpose of your existence is key. I think the Multiverse has an itch to scratch, something it needs you to do. Maybe someone is about to damage it, and you must simply prevent this damage from occurring. ~


    "Then what?" Her guest was silent. "Where do we start?"


    ~ Here. ~


    "What?"


    ~ Instants before you arrived in my world, something very important happened, ~ Liam explained ~ I was informed on our communication bridge by the Metil Ambassador that a young creature from this world, a boy named Mall-ik, made contact with you and is now in your world. The Metils have a plan to create some interference in your world. They plan to extend your living area. I am unclear about what that exactly involves, because I do not know the precise nature of your reality. ~


    "Liam, I am only a child."


    ~ We are well paired. I am the oldest creature in the Multiverse. The Multiverse asked me to help, and trust me, I will. Age is no predicate to wisdom; it''s generally the other way around. ~


    "This Mall-ik, the firefly as I call him, we must find him. He passed between worlds like me. He is part of the puzzle like you and I."


    The strange couple began to move in the direction of the city. She just needed to find Mall-ik, and at the same time she would find her father. At least that was the plan.

 Chapter 66: Return to Mars

    Their flight through the Purple resumed.


    ~ Sophie, how old are you? ~


    "Twelve." The number proved rather useless without additional data. He did not want to burden her.


    ~ How do you measure your age? ~


    "These are years, we have seasons. Four seasons in a year. Why?"


    ~ We need to find the age of this Mall-ik creature. it is possible you both were born at the same moment. The Multiverse loves these types of non-coincidences. Was there any important event in your world on the moment of your birth? ~


    "None that I can recall. Boring day, November 21. Why?"


    ~ The Multiverse stacks alignments. Each time it does anything, timing is always very fortuitous. The last four Attractions were driven by dates. Maybe I am seeing too much in this. ~


    "I''m more of a spur-of-the-moment girl. I like to flow with things. But this year my birthday will be special."


    ~ How so? ~


    "The finale of the Electoral 2072 simulation, run by Marilyn. It will be on that day."


    ~ The creature which used you to grab the Dot? ~


    "Yes. Is that important?"


    ~ Most definitely. ~


    "How so?"


    ~ That, I do not know. But I promise, it is important. ~


    As they approached the deeper zone in the Purple, the rock formations increased in complexity. size, both individually and numerically. If they were in one of Electoral''s made-up game worlds, and this was deception, she had outdone herself. The capital of the Metils was more complex than the most creative imagination. She felt like some creative artist, with a very unique mental state had dreamt of this place. The artist loved to build structures with millions of little rocks. Everything here was formed by hundreds of pieces, orbiting other pieces and exchanging flashes of light.


    This was no simple city. It stretched for leagues in every direction. There were massive houses and castles that felt like beehives or underground ant colonies. Here, the living creatures were formed by thousands of orbiting rocks between which, hundreds of little flashes of color were jumping back and forth. The light resulted from rocks gently rubbing against each other.


    As they arrived, Sophie expected resistance or security forces, but everyone moved aside and remained silent as they travelled slowly into the largest alley of the city. She was in awe of the place. On earth, streets were flat, and generally located on the ground. Here, everything was in every direction. In this nest, the small creatures heeded way as the pair made its way. Sophie had no clue what the creatures saw, but it was a sight hard to ignore by these locals. She knew the stable rocks were some type of dwellings for the Metils.


    With time, they passed what were probably suburbs, to arrive in the heart of the city. There were millions of little blocks of different shapes and sizes forming these structures. Sophie knew her father, or even the blond computer, could not dream anything this weird. At the center of the city was some type of large palace. A structure made of hundreds of millions of rocks. Sophie felt she was in downtown New York, at the heart of a Macy''s parade going on in every direction.


    "This is so crazy," said the girl to her companion.


    ~ Truly a sight to behold. You cannot know how long I have waited to see this. Sophie, I owe you so much. ~


    "What is that?" she asked, slowing down in front of the large structure.


    ~ They call this place the Palace of the Continuum. Here is where their governing body works. You must know, this race kills and dismantles their own rather casually. In the Lower, life is rare and highly prized. Here, life is rather less so. ~The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "They eat each other?"


    ~ No! No! No! ~ Her friend''s reaction was one of sheer horror. ~ They have other species with lesser intelligence, they eat those. ~


    "In my world we do the same. We do have vegetarians, though. We eat animals."


    ~ You eat life? ~


    She knew he was uneasy. "Yes, I am sorry. Is that okay?"


    ~ Not really, but I always figured that life, if it exists in your world, would be rare, like in my world. ~ Sophie wanted to change the topic, she knew he tried not to be judgmental but disapproved. She pushed on.


    As they moved deeper into the city, the world around them became more frequently animated and agitated. Someone or something had given orders not to engage them and move aside. Sophie began to notice order in this chaos. Some of the structures were vehicles moving creatures of this world around. Other structures helped regulate traffic. This was a real world, with real individuals, like ants in a colony. The only difference was the intangibility; many portions of these creatures were transparent, like pure energy. They moved back and forth between rocks, and once absorbed by a rock, produced a colorful gem. She was no scientist, but clearly she had to try to memorize what she saw. One day she would have to describe this.


    She was in a three-dimension jungle of small rocks, orbiting other rocks pushed aside by flashes of colorful energy.


    "Here," said Sophie. Their movement toward the center stopped.


    Liam saw a structure in front of him. It like every other. The dwelling was made of millions of little bricks and blocks, some of them were spinning. Sophie got closer and stopped in front of what seemed like the entry door.


    ~ Why are you stopping here? ~


    "I saw a flash of blue. Look at that color. Do you see it?"


    The house was made of rocks spinning in different patterns. Most of the shades were red hues, some were yellow, orange.


    "Right there in the back." She was unable to point at anything in particular.


    Liam looked closer. There was so much to look at. The rocks, as they touched and gently came into contact with each other and released little bursts of colored lights, like energy bursts.


    ~ Sophie, what should I look for? ~


    "There, the color blue."


    ~ I do not know blue. ~


    "Who is in there?" yelled Sophie at the wall of rocks. "Come out."


    Outside in the city there was silence. The fear in the streets was palpable. Hundreds were hiding in fear. She barked the order again. Slowly a Metil floated out. At first it appeared like the others, made of thousands of little rocks orbiting.


    "Why are you different?"


    ¡°I... I am not different,¡± said the scared female voice.


    "You are."


    ¡°No, no, I am not different.¡±


    "Yes, there... You have a little portion shining a different color."


    ¡°I do not understand,¡± said the scared little creature. She was very upset.


    "That rock. It keeps moving. Each time it touches something, it shines in a different color."


    A different voice came from behind. "Enough!" It was a male voice. Sophie recognized the voice of the rude military man who first made contact.


    "You again?" she said forcefully and with annoyance.


    "Leave this creature to be. Follow me. The Council wants to speak to you." This creature was seriously getting on Sophie''s nerves. She hated being bossed around. "Arrest her," said the voice. They were referring to the individual with a spark of blue. Sophie knew the creature she just discovered was unique in some way, and because of her intervention, she now was in trouble.


    "You are arresting no one," said Sophie to the floating rock bully.


    "She has an inversion, she belongs to us. The Council," began the creature.


    Sophie reacted instinctively. She just yelled in the direction of the creature.


    "Enough!"


    What came next was unexpected.


    As if she just had released a wave of energy, every little rock forming the annoying Metil was hit and reduced to the smallest of powder. Her words had just killed it. There were gasps all around. People here were beyond panic, they were gripped with fear unable to move or talk. Each creature¡¯s vibrating energy increased like it was shaking.


    "Oops," thought Sophie to herself. She could hear in her head Liam think, ''well deserved.''


    Then the colors around her began to fade.


    The world disappeared slowly.


    Sophie opened her eyes and saw the doctor''s face.


    "She''s back!" The doctor exclaimed. "Finally!"


    She was in a thick bed. There was no tube around her was a comfortable hotel room.


    "Why am I here?"


    The voice of Marilyn Monroe replied, ¡°Did you think about Oscar, the white dog?¡± asked the blond woman smiling on a screen ahead of her.


    "Yes, a while ago."


    ¡°I am sorry, I saw a peak, a signal. I apologize. I pulled you out immediately but you just arrived.¡±


    "I never entered my father''s mind," said Sophie. Georges, her father, the doctor or even and Milly were not in the bedroom.


    ¡°Did you see anything, did you find him?¡±


    "I saw something different. How long was I gone?"


    ¡°A little under a week. I was nervous. You were in a place with a much slower pace of evolution of time.¡±


    Then there was a voice in Sophie''s head.


    ~ Amazing! ~ said the voice of Liam.


    Sophie smiled. Liam, her friend, was still with her.


    ¡°Marilyn, did you just hear another voice?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she answered.


    ~ Perfect, ~ said Liam.

 Chapter 67: The Labyrinth

    Paris


    Marilyn genuinely cared about only a handful of humans, most walked her Center these days. The other three walked earth millions of miles away. The first piece on the chessboard zoomed up and down his tower downtown Berlin scared by heights. The second man was sleeping under a sewer grate in the city of San-Francisco. The last, the fun one,had just parked his small car in a shady part of Paris. She had true respect for one of the tree, Takeda. The others were both the way there were, Takeda was a creature of genius.


    Takeda had a gift to understand the unique role biology played in the Multiverse. Takeda in his sexy new body knew a shift on the nearby horizon. Marilyn knew the three men needed to connect, but how.


    ***


    The virologist lounged, lost in thought. Takeda was still discovering the joys of living in a young, regenerated and flamboyant body. Days ago, every cell in his body except those forming the bones and his brain had been cast aside as puss. His system had undergone a biological thunderstorm, and nothing short of new biotechnology had kept him alive. At first he was upset the Ghost changed his race and sexual orientation, but now, looking at himself in the mirror, he felt thankful. This was the perfect camouflage. His fingerprints were new.


    Takeda stuff felt guilt to have fathered the monstrous META virus; that was his only legacy on earth earning him the secret admiration of Nick, the Chairman of the Visconti and his evil conclave. He was now fully awake decades later, in 2072. Fast-moving science had passed him as he clung to life in a well-deserved coma. Every day was a new day he savored. The man looked at the tight youthful skin on his hand; the fingers flexed so readily. The tendons were new, and they felt like it.


    The teenage centenarian was now hiding in plain sight. He sat in a half-broken seat, feet up against the backrest of the seat in the front row in the small movie theater. Today Paris was sunny and everyone was excited about a stupid online game, yet Takeda had been warned to hide from an intelligent digital creature. What better place than this dark place deep below the real world.


    The dark basement of the four-story house crouched underneath Rue Sevastopol, in the heart of Paris. He was in Sevastopol Men¡¯s Sauna, but this was no real sauna; that water was dirty and ready for a drain. The virologist was wearing a towel folded in half lengthwise and wrapped around his waist like a miniskirt. Here, gay men needed protection from twenty known generically diseases but no one went home disappointed.


    His new young body was gold in this dirty sauna visited by an older crowd. Paris had many such places, this one was the trashiest. Takeda was likely the only breathing human unaware of what all the Electoral game entailed. All he knew was that it used the image of Marilyn Monroe; that part was amusing. In this crappy seat, Takeda was a Greek Adonis when compared to the rare older guests. Wrinkles no longer scared him, over the last half century, he''d gotten used to them. But he wasn¡¯t here to satisfy urges but to hide.


    Nick had goons keeping an eye on him at every moment since his escape from the retirement home in Vienna; this made this sauna an excellent place to escape for a moment or two. Thugs were sitting in the car across the street, most likely watching the stupid game broadcasting from mars. The Chairman of the Visconti would not let him roam free; there was a limit to the monster''s trust.


    On his lap, Takeda played with a computerized pad. It warmed his lap. He started by basic research into his new captors. On the screen, in this darkness, was the ugly face of Nicholas, the Chairman of the Visconti. He and his group of twelve were the faces of new evil in a century free of villains. They were miserable human beings, each infected by his META virus. In exchange for years more on earth, they had traded their humanity for sickness. His viral creation made its way into each cell, opened P-shaped genes and transformed them into I-shaped ones. The change halted the biological clock, suspending the advance of death at the cost of turning the biological process to a dormant semi-eternal ghosts mode. He found humor in the side-effects of his lab-created immortality. Their minds would age and soon each would be a walking vegetable. If cells no longer reproduced, disease evolution like cancer was halted.


    To dare ask Takeda to destroy humanity, the Chairman had lost touch with his own. How could this monster think, even for a second, that he would kill his own race? Apparently, Nick and his compatriots had grown more delusional with time. Takeda loved life even if humanity too often disappointed him. In his coma, he had agreed to the bargain. What drowning man would not grab a life preserver. He did not feel compelled to honor the bargain, in fact fuck him.


    The first obstacle to his survival was to control this genocidal mission, turn it around back on this group. The two men watching him were standing outside near a car. If they felt he abandoned his task, they would report him and be given the order to kill. He rememberedthe monster''s note.


    You have to deliver a weaponized airborne virus that kills 99.9% of the human population. It must be undetectable and show no symptoms. META virus holders must be immune. You may design an antidote. Death must be instant and painful and on command with a sound.


    He was tasked with the creation of a painful doomsday weapon. Even Oppenheimer, the father of the atomic bomb, was misled as to the military''s actual intentions for his weapon. Oppenheimer had designed bombs utilizing nuclear fission with the objective of peace in mind. No one would create a nuke once being told it would kill millions of innocents. Something amused Takeda in the monster''s request. Takeda alone could conceive of such a deadly bug. He had, in the past, in moments of desperation, imagined how he could extinguish the human race. He never imagined he would have to do it.


    Alone, in the darkness of the bathhouse, he shrugged and began a new search on his pad. Takeda knew the pale monsters very well; he''d fathered them nearly fifty years ago. The Chairman was not one to hide his true intentions. Nick was incapable of bluffing. If he was asking for a weapon, Nick planned to use it. Furthermore, the ghost''s plans were always redundant. Takeda knew he was probably some rushed plan C, implemented at the last moment to replace a failed plan B.


    He was aware that the human race was in danger; someone else was also working to satisfy Nick and destroy everyone. He wanted to live and also wanted the human race to continue. He simply had to deliver a virus which destroyed these monsters, not ordinary people but that was a normal man¡¯s logic, he knew better. The new virus had to kill META carriers or yet be even stronger. For the moment, he had to appear to be working toward the ultimate solution. The goons outside had to report and by looking at their foreheads, these morons were no biologists able to confirm what type of bug he was designing.


    He had to think and here he could. He would start with known facts. The timing of his regeneration and the ghost''s genocidal request were somehow related. They coincided with the strange game on Mars and the arrival of the young girl named Sophie at the spike. His virus could not infect Mars on such short notice. There was also this strange game ran by the cartoonish bimbo Marilyn Monroe. These things were somehow related.


    In the note was a not-so-subtle hint that he alone could decipher. The death had to be painful. Most of his deadly viruses weakened a host body until it expired from exhaustion. Pain is not a common state of mind for dying individuals in his world. Pain and sound at the time of death is counterproductive, it reinforces the body. It tied one hand behind his back as pain released endorphins and adrenaline, which served to protect the body. The request was not random. Nick¡¯s plan, irrespective of its nature had pain and sound as a key ingredient.


    Days ago, he would have concluded the pain was designed to send some message or to generate societal disturbance as bodies fell lifeless. Today, after watching the events on mars, he felt differently. The discovery of the Rho waves, this energy created by the brain, had given him cause for reconsideration. A comatose mind produced whispers of waves while the hurt brain would create a flood of them. If Nick wanted billions of minds to create these Rho waves as the bodies died, he somehow needed pain.


    How he despised the old birds of the Visconti. The rich men and women knew the economy would crash if their secret ever became known. They believed everyone would, at some point, desire infection to postpone death. They were wrong. This was normal of narcissists, which the Visconti surely were to think this way. These men had worked hard to keep the benefit of his virus secret. They had secretly inoculated a handful of innocents around the world with it to hide their own self-infections amidst a global panic, but as they each reached the age of a century, the life-extending effects of his invention were becoming evident.


    Takeda would kill himself long before he was forced to spend one day locked in a bunker underground with those monsters. The young man had the element of surprise, though. The ghosts respected him and imagined he would hold his part of the deal. Takeda''s mind was sharp. But even at a hundred, in his haze back at the retirement home, he had misled the Visconti into granting his demanded boon. Their child-like reaction was priceless. He''d once read about the Italian Visconti. This current incarnation was playing the role of a group clouded in medieval legends. Takeda could only mentally picture one of the old freaks happening upon a book that described the practice of boon-giving, and their subsequent glee over having grabbed one more toehold into the long-dead past.


    As things stood, he could conceive of no potential outcome where he would use the boon. Asking for payment to a contract was the best way to suggest he planned to perform on it. He knew better. In science, the expression "never say never" was more applicable; it was a guide. He looked around and closed his eyes, thinking of how he could improve his lot.


    He dozed off in his strange surroundings.


    His mind was still partly that of an aged man awaking from a decade-long coma. The jolts of endorphins, dopamine, and testosterone played games on his body. Naps were now part of his routine. Dreams filled his mind; they were sweet. In one, he saw a nuclear winter, mushroom clouds rising in every city, destroying most of humanity. The destruction, somehow, was only the first verse in a better song. As men choked on dust, their skin burnt, he saw some people mutate. Their bodies began to change, evolving to survive in the new hostile environment. A new virus infected these people, his virus. A bug designed to save mankind instead of destroying it. Then he woke up. On the screen of the theater were screams, the same as those from his dream but they were screams of naked gay men being tied in dungeons. He smiled.Stolen story; please report.


    Takeda blew air over the back of his hand. Every invisible hair stood up. He got goose bumps, and his body gave a slight involuntary shudder. Immediately, a surge of hormones and emotion erupted throughout his mind and in seconds, he was ready for sex. How could he sleep in a seat and yet remain constantly horny? He placed the computer tablet over his erection. It would have to wait; he had work to do. Outside on the street, the Visconti were undoubtedly keeping a close eye on him. If he stayed here long enough, they would come in to get visual contact. He had had already been here for hours. They had to be monitoring him with some implant inside his body.


    Though this particular day was an exception, at this time of year, Paris was generally sad, wet and gray. Night arrived early in the afternoon and stayed long after the next morning''s commute ended. The young/old virologist took a deep breath, tried to ignore his oversensitive body and turned his full attention to the tablet screen. In the darkness of the sauna, it lit his face. He was smiling ear to ear. The start of a mustache darkened his young upper lip. This new body was hairier than his last. He was now Latino, not Asian and loved it.


    As if someone had turned on a light switch and lit his mind, the dangerous old man, the creator of new deadly viruses, was back. The smile slowly morphed into a terrible grin. The muscles in his face tightened. He began his work in a way no one would have imagined. He''d slumbered for decades. In virology, that was an eternity. Takeda did not research technological advancements, nor did he try to understand how his regeneration was now possible. Biology could wait. What concerned him the most was a new area of thermodynamics. The Greek philosophers had obsessed with these laws, but today, they were still widely misunderstood.


    He mused as he read. Thermodynamics: the art of understanding how energy, as a flux, moves in the universe over time. Thermodynamics had a handful of laws. For example, it alone explained how the eternal movement of a pendulum was impossible. Work expended energy, and nothing could live forever.


    On his little computer tablet, the pages of the online encyclopedia flashed quickly. They were colorful and animated. He turned the sound off out of respect for his surroundings and also to make sure any horny guy walking in wasn''t turned off by the noise. This place required silence so the patrons could hear the groans of pleasure.


    Just before he fell into his coma, the most important scientific advance of the last millennium was uncovered by a young student. In his haze, he often had promised himself that perfecting and employing this leap in thermodynamics would be his first priority once he woke up.


    Takeda was nervous as he typed the words Fourth Law of Thermodynamics. His heart beat faster as the page appeared. He began to read. As everything of this importance, this discovery was mostly an accident. He alone knew he was ready to read mankind''s most important discovery since controlled agriculture. He preferred the original name it was born under: The Tompkins Variance.


    The title on the page wasn''t the Fourth Law or the Tompkins Variance as named by the inventor, but instead, the discovery was coined "The God Bias." In this strange place, he was safe from the world he was tasked to destroy. Cameras were forbidden here for obvious reasons. In the distance he heard a bell, a patron had arrived. He had been waiting for the man. The clock read 10:23 AM. Takeda knew if he stayed here long enough, the white ghost would send a security guard to look after him.


    "Chambre 113," said in the distance a shy voice. Everyone was watching the infernal game taking place on mars even the sauna keeper spoke slowly to his guest while looking at a screen, a giveaway the man was no regular.


    "Les souliers dans le sac," he said in French.


    "What?"


    The sauna manager spoke with a thick French accent. "Put your shoes in the plastic bag. You cannot walk in with shoes. Need sandals next time." This individual was indeed Takeda''s guard. Takeda had at most twenty minutes before the guard undressed, began to walk the maze and found him. Takeda smiled, he needed the man for his plan.


    The virologist turned his attention back to the encyclopedia. As he did, on the screen flashed the smile of Marilyn Monroe. The digital goddess was excited.


    -- The Hopkins Variance - The Fourth Law of Thermodynamics - The God Bias --


    A human proved god exists using science. In his book entitled the Art of Persuasion, the French 16th century Philosopher Blaise Pascal wrote, "People most invariably arrive at their belief not on the basis of proof but on the basis of what they find attractive." Not surprisingly, different people acquire diverse beliefs from identical life situations regarding the world''s origin. To some, theology is an attractive explanation of the world, to others science is the most appealing solution of our origin. In both cases, these views are polarized and exclusive.


    For centuries, scientists and theologians battled each other while they labored to understand who we are. These two groups stood, entrenched at opposite ends of the spectrum, but were often in agreement as to the need for humility in our race. To science and theology alike, our world is defined by complex written rules or a road set by a godlike figure in control of our per-determined destiny. Pascal, a firm believer in greater power, wrote that there were two absolute paths to error. The first was to take things too literally and the second was to take everything spiritually. To Pascal, one erred by walking exclusively on one of these two paths, but for nearly a thousand years, there was no bridge between these worlds until a young statistician proved the existence of the hand of God in our lives. His proof was born of science.


    In 2046, a young doctorate student from Chicago, a man named J. Seth Hopkins, began the work that ultimately would change the modern world and reconcile science and religion. Hopkins loved poker and statistics. When his father told him he was about to erase four decades of security footage from his Casino, Seth acquired and digitized the data for his research.


    Seth began with the analysis of over 7,000,000 rolls of dice at a single craps table. In the game, each player rolls two six-sided dice. The player throws both cubes against the opposite side of the table, ultimately settling them randomly on the green carpet. On average, of the thirty-six possible outcomes, the number seven happens 1/6th of the time. This combination is critical, as it stands in this game as the nemesis of the players.


    Seth''s initial review was simple: to see how many rolls were needed before the throw converged to the theoretical probability of 1/6. On each of the twenty tables he analyzed, the simple probability never converged. Instead of the expected 1,166,667 draws of the number seven, the number of draws was at best 1,162,104. This variation of 4,000 rolls or 0.4%, resulted in some small variance on each table.


    Seth feared the players were somehow cheating his father''s casino since the outcome variation always favored the players over the house. Immediately, every casino around the world ran a full analysis of its tables and uncovered the same inexplicable bias. Life always favored players in the range of 0.1 to 0.4%; a value increasing over time now referred to as the Hopkins Variance. There is still a debate as to why the variance never materialized before this experiment.


    Seth tried to recreate the experiment in a laboratory, but the bias was quickly gone. Within 10,000 rolls made by humans or machines alike in his lab, the numbers converged perfectly to the naturally expected value of 1/6. Something about being in the genuine casino environment was giving players an advantage.


    Seth''s father, who also happened to be a minister, suggested that the bias was gone in the lab because his test subjects were not gambling their own money. This man of belief suggested that life somehow rigged the game in favor of the player. In an incredible leap of faith, Seth renewed the experiment, this time with gambling players betting their actual wages. The Hopkins Variance instantly returned. The experiment proved that man''s desire to win and benefit influenced the outcome of draws.


    The world was understandably in shock.


    Seth went back to the Casino footage and observed that tables with more gambling players had a more favorable bias than the tables with only a handful of players. Studies immediately launched on all casino games and quickly confirmed the Hopkins Variance. On most everything where a random outcome favors man, the sheer will of the players seemed to bend the very concept of probability. The greater the desire for an outcome and the larger the number of players, the greater the bias.


    Priests were quick to extrapolate the Hopkins variance to what they named the God Bias. To theologians, God''s hand aided mankind even in gambling. Seth wrote a paper designating the variance the fourth thermodynamic law, but that name never became commonly used by the scientific community.


    Takeda looked up. The consequences of the Hopkins variance predicated amazing possibilities. If there was a God, why would He help man gamble? What he read next in the article was even more shocking.


    Since 2056, hundreds of experiments have validated the God Bias. The most conclusive research came in 2063 when a manufacturer of a hair regeneration drug wanted to know if his drug was beneficial, neutral, or hazardous to future users. Instead of physically testing the substance, the maker asked half a million volunteers to select between a placebo and the real drug. Based on the God Bias, if the drug was indeed beneficial to the patients, more than half would choose the drug over the placebo. If the drug had adverse effects and somehow injured humans, a majority would instead select the placebo. The Hopkins factor in this experiment was 0.43%, and as it was confirmed and validated, the world finally understood that science needed to adapt to tolerate faith. The God Bias had helped mankind verify the positive effect of a drug.


    Takeda sat, stunned. Who could imagine reverse drug testing? Using a shift in expected randomness to determine benefit or detriment of an outcome was counter-intuitive. In a strange way, there was something reassuring about living in a world biased in favor of mankind. The long encyclopedia page continued.


    In 2067, the Darwinian theory of evolution was amended to merge into it the findings of the Fourth Law of Thermodynamics. Species no longer only evolved based on features that allowed an increase in the likelihood of survival in the wild. Species like humans, who appeared immune from predatory pressures and less subject to Darwinian evolution, were now believed to adapt slowly, based on the Hopkins variance. This effect pushes humanity to evolve to its benefit, irrespective of what the exact benefit is. This variance explains why males release many sperm cells to impregnate the female egg. It describes life in a beautiful way. It reveals diversity''s inner workings.


    Behind him, on a screen, Marilyn Monroe was watching in awe. Takeda was soon daydreaming. The implication of this law to Takeda''s mission was evident. Since he was tasked with the destruction of mankind, invisible forces would work against his success. If he tried to kill the Visconti and save humankind from destruction, his path to success appeared much more probable. The repercussions of this phenomenon were far-reaching to his mission. As a scientist, he could not ignore this. He had to find a way to use it to his advantage.


    Takeda looked up again, lost in thought. The Bias was cumulative. If he managed to do something a million times, like let a virus replicate multiple millions of times, each time it did, the fabric of the universe itself would either help or hinder the virus depending on the outcome. If he introduced a partly finished virus, designed to change each time it reproduced itself, he could use the God Bias. The same virus could enter two different bodies, and if the universe liked the person, the virus would mutate into a benign Forman¡¯s kill the other the Universe wanted dead.


    There was poetry and beauty in what he was conceiving. Takeda did not even need to find out if somehow the META-infected ghosts were, in fact, acting for the benefit or detriment of mankind. The God Bias, properly harnessed, would take care of that problem.


    He smiled to himself. This development was fantastic. In this awful and dark place, he had discovered the ultimate weapon. He needed to create a selective virus designed to accelerate natural selection. He would name it the Darwin-Hopkins virus, or the DH virus. Virologists and astrologists alike loved to name discoveries.


    He looked down at the pad, Marilyn was smiling holding a sign. On it read ¡®The God Virus.¡¯ Takeda was less than a mile away from this new lab. He closed the tablet, but remained horny as Hell. He hesitated between jerking off or going after the guard. If he were lucky, the guard would be gay, but he doubted it. He slid the tablet behind his chair and in the blink of the eye, got up to find the guard. The man was part of his plan. Hopefully, there would be some fun in the process.


    He walked this dirty maze and met up with the man halfway to the room.

 Chapter 68: Permission

    CNN Studios, Earth


    "We have excellent news to report," said one of the two CNN anchors to well over half the human population watching the show.


    "What is it, John?" bounced back his beautiful co-anchor.


    On earth, nearly everyone with a pulse watched eagerly. Viewers forced to be at work polished dishes or did some other minor task with eyes drawn on a wall-mounted flat screen. Others were sitting or standing like zombies, watching the show using the contact lenses called Screenlenzs. Seventy-one percent of the human population was logged into the Electoral 2072 system, ready to watch Round 26, the live show of the century.


    Large red letters flashed on the screen, they read:


    -- Breaking News from the Electoral Center --


    "John?"


    "I am getting breaking news from Milly Wong, our famous Mars journalist imbedded in the Electoral Center with the Lapierre family. We interrupt this pre-game broadcast to report that after many long, interminable days when it was feared that Sophie Lapierre had become lost inside of her father''s mind, she has indeed returned. The precious darling is finally back amongst us. I am told she is now awake, and that her doctor gave a clean bill of health. What a relief! These last days of international outrage seem to have been for naught."


    "Are you serious? What fantastic news." The sincerity in the co-anchor''s voice was apparent. "Does that mean Sophie''s father Laurent can enter Electoral and play Round 26? As all our viewers know, Marilyn Monroe refused to connect Laurent to the game unless Sophie, his legal guardian, was able to give consent. This rigid application of the rules by the computer system came to most as a complete shock as she argued a merged mind can¡¯t enter her world." There was a lengthy dramatic pause, and he resumed. "Round 26 is due to start in minutes. Laurent is moments away from disqualification, which would virtually guarantee President Sanchez''s reelection. Laurent fell into a coma a week ago while traveling to Mars, for reasons still unknown. We have had no update about the condition of his mind or his ability to continue competing. We hope Sophie helped him while connected to him for so long."


    Journalists were masters at creating drama, and keeping typically boring events exciting. This situation needed no enhancement. On the screen, both anchors had their fingers crossed. The man touched the microphone in his ear as if to tone out the set''s noise, "I am told Sophie just agreed to let her father connect to Electoral 2072 even though she has been unable to speak to him directly. That''s very strange. Where has she been these last few days?"


    "Everything is simply moving too fast. There are too many unanswered questions. Who knows, maybe the technology of those Rho chambers on Mars still has glitches." The excitement on the set was palpable. The anchor continued, "Sophie has agreed, grudgingly, to let her father connect and play. They are hooking up Laurent''s mind to the game as we speak. He will use his neuro-jack connection, and it will be paired with the high technology of the Rho chamber on Mars. What a turn of events. Minutes ago we were looking at Laurent''s imminent disqualification, and now Laurent enters the game using the best technology around."


    "We can confirm here at CNN, Laurent Lapierre, Sophie¡¯s poor crippled father is back in the race. His name is amongst the remaining 127 players logged in the software. All of the legal protests have been dropped, and we have a green light to proceed with the broadcast from his mind. At this time, we can only cross our fingers and hope he is intact from last week''s terrorist attack in the Airbus, which nearly crippled the vessel''s ability to decelerate. This game is out of Sophie''s hands and back in her father''s. What an exciting turn of events."


    John felt the viewers needed some context. He unplugged his earpiece and spoke off-prompter. "For the last twenty-four hours, we have been reporting violence and public outcry from all over the world. No one understood the strange decision from the regulators of the Electoral 2072 competition to change the timing of the rounds to be played. They moved the date of the next round ahead by a full two days in what could only be described as an effort to disqualify Laurent as Sophie slept in that tube. Nothing seemed to justify the change in schedule. Sophie''s attempted rescue of her father. It cried for a suspension of the game, not an acceleration of the schedule. If Laurent is sick, he needs time to heal. Many feared this change in timing was a power grab."


    The producers were silent and listened as the man improvised. There was emotion in his voice, and this made fantastic television. The anchor knew he needed to conclude; time was short. "The fact that neither the President nor Marilyn took responsibility raised the public''s level of frustration. Sophie''s brave attempt to rescue her father on live TV was heroic. She is the definition of bravery. At such a young age, this can only reinforce our admiration for this virtual orphan. If Laurent had somehow been disqualified during the rescue, there would have been a civil revolt. The plan by these politicians appears to have backfired. Laurent and Sophie are back in the game, and the pair''s popularity has soared to new heights."


    The CNN ratings were also at their highest. They were the only station with a journalist located inside the Electoral Center, and they were raking in billions in advertising. Anyone with half a brain opened the computer on their frequency. The anchors knew Milly Wong was ready to broadcast, microphone in hand from the Center. The story taking place on Mars was the single most important televisual event since Neil Armstrong''s moon landing. Sophie and the Electoral 2072 competition were both highly addictive and irresistible. Nothing about it was normal.


    John calmed himself. Julie reached over and placed her hand on his shoulder. She continued, "Laurent will now play and connect to the software using the controversial neuro-patch. We all hope he is healed. Marilyn suggested that was the case. Once more, Laurent''s luck pays off. Any one of the 126 other players still in the game could have filed a complaint requesting that Laurent be forced to use the same technology as they do. They are at the Hotel and don¡¯t gave his patch or even the cradle he is in. That''s a very simple rule of fairness. But Laurent was already facing disqualification, no one imagined to waste their time with another complaint. In minutes, Laurent goes from impending elimination to holding a strategic advantage over Emilio himself. Good for him. We are praying Laurent can make good use of Marilyn''s Rho tubes and crush the game about to start."


    She winked at the camera. "We all hope Laurent''s mind is intact and he will be able to play."


    "Given that Sophie¡¯s journey into her father''s mind took a little under a week, I am a bit sad to think Sophie never spoke with him. That was the silver lining to most." John continued, "The official reason given for the change in schedule by the regulators is the split of the final. The last scenario will now be held on two different days. Take a look at the new dates."


    A calendar appeared on the screen.


    Round 26 - 127 players (Now)


    Round 27 - 64 players (October 29)You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Round 28 - 32 players (October 31)


    Round 29 - 16 players (November 3)


    Round 30 - 8 players - Quarter final (November 7)


    Round 31 - 4 players - Semi final (November 15)


    Round 32 - 2 players - Final part 1 (November 18)


    Round 32 - 2 players - Final part 2 (November 21)


    "What remains unchanged is the last day of the competition. The last portion of the finale will still take place on the 21st of November; the night Sophie turns thirteen-years-old. At this point, because of the scary nature of the events going on, we all hope this is nothing more than a coincidence. Everyone here at the station is already looking forward to watching the face of Sophie as Laurent walks into the highest office in the land or becomes the best vice-President Emilio can dream to have. A vice-President regulating the Internet confined to the Internet. We have here at CNN one fantastic birthday celebration reserved for her; I can promise you that."


    CNN was required to broadcast the rankings of the top players still in the game, and the anchors veered their commentary to comply. "At the conclusion today''s scoring round, half of the participants will be dropped. Since we had the misfortune of losing one player during the inbound flight to Mars, only 63 players instead of the usual 64 will be eliminated. Don''t feel bad for them. Just remember, their scores have already qualified them for a job as a member of the lower chamber of the Congress, an excellent job with a good salary. Past Round 26, they are just playing for cabinet positions, ministries and the position of President."


    The game schedule was replaced with a list of names.


    President Emilio Sanchez - 2,434 points


    Laurent Lapierre - 2,267 points


    Mathilda Proux - 1,855 points


    N''Bele Abukaye - 1,854 points


    Fianc¨¦ Lee - 1,854 points


    Julian Velev - 1,854 points


    Stanley Block - 1,853 points


    Marie Lalancette - 1,853 points


    Ji-Ing Po - 1,853 points


    Bukoye BoLi - 1,853 points


    "As you can see, with a maximum of one hundred points awarded during each round, and after having played a total of 25 rounds, the largest number of points any player could have secured was 2,500. The President lost about three points each round and has an almost perfect score. That alone defies any logic when we see how the game is scored. Since he has been scoring so high for three election cycles now, we have gotten used to it. Laurent is Emilio¡¯s only serious contender for the finale, losing only 10 points each round. Laurent and Emilio are leagues above everyone else.


    "The other 125 players are within a five-point pocket," she continued, "They are more than three hundred points behind Laurent and the leader. That is utterly insane." He rolled the last word on his tongue. "The mere fact that the two front runners have managed to distance themselves from this pack of nearly a billion is a statistical impossibility, but who cares, right? There are seven rounds left to qualify for the finale, so unless there is a disqualification, which almost just happened, everyone else is only there for the free trip to Mars and an experience of a lifetime."


    "What if Laurent''s mind is gone, that will disqualify him, right?"


    "Shush!" He ignored her words and continued, "Once in the finale itself, the points of both finalists are wiped clean. It''s a winner take all. The loser becomes Vice-President, a nice consolation prize. The winner will be elected President. It''s a two-man race at this point; no one disputes that." Around the world, everything was on hold. Everyone with a pulse had connected to the system to watch. Cars were stopped halfway to their destinations on the side of roads. Even factories were closed, and most governments declared a national holiday.


    There was a thirty-second commercial break. The car company paid three billions of credits to buy this time. The commercial message was touching. A new car stopped on an empty road; the window opened, and a man holding the wheel looked at the camera and wished all the contestants luck and skill. Before the seconds were over, the broadcast resumed. "I am sorry, but we must interrupt." Television stations never cut in over a paying customer unless there was a critical need. John said, "Milly Wong, our live reporter from the Electoral Center has an update on Sophie''s condition. How are things up there?"


    The field journalist''s face appeared in a part of the screen. As she spoke, her image grew so she would fill the entire screen. She was standing in the Electoral finale room surrounded by the thirty-two empty Rho tubes. Thanks to the Electoral technology, Milly was speaking live even though she was millions of miles away.


    "John, Julie, as you both can imagine, everyone here on mars is relieved. We were worried sick for Sophie. Seven days in a coma is a long time for anyone. Doctor Susie during this period was simply awesome. She spent hours massaging those little legs so our sweetheart would keep her body functions as healthy as possible. We all know Doctor Shin is no stranger to comatose patients; she has been caring for Laurent for well over a year now. Very possibly the strangest medical assignment anyone has ever held."


    The journalist was standing next to the shapeless pink body of Laurent. His scarf was wrapped around one end, with the lifeless form tethered to the center cradle of the Electoral room. Both rows of sixteen tubes aligned in a curved configuration like a Roman coliseum. The walls behind Milly, flush with large monitors, scrolled a flood of data.


    "How is Sophie?" asked the journalist from earth. "Did you speak with her?"


    "Yes, I did. John, Julie, as you know, aside from the President playing from earth and Laurent resting next to me, all other 125 players are hooked up to their gloves and wearing their contact lenses back at the Holiday Inn Mars. The majestic hotel is about a hundred miles away from where I stand. This magnificent structure is about one mile above ground level. I did have the honor to speak with Sophie the moment she woke up. She is back to her grumpy old self. In fact, after running to see her father''s body, she ran to her bedroom across the hall. She kicked me out of her bedroom." Milly decided not to play that footage. "Marilyn was there, on the screens lining each wall, begging the girl to make a decision and consent to Laurent''s connection. We all love Sophie, and we all know how much she hates being pressured into any decision. She was unhappy with the need to move quickly and trust me; you did not want to be in Marilyn''s shoes during that exchange. Sophie used the expression ''tin-can'' describing her when she learned about today''s game."


    Everyone on earth watching the show smiled. In their hearts, they all forgave the young lady and could easily imagine the brunette yelling at the blond.


    "Any news on Laurent''s condition? Can you confirm if Laurent is ready to play?" demanded Julie.


    "That remains unclear. We have no update as to his condition. Sophie said she spent no time in his head. That is strange. We witnessed an odd event in Sophie''s room. Electoral''s Rho detectors had exploded seconds before the girl awoke. Sophie said something we could not distinguish. She said one word, sounded like "miam." Marilyn ignored the comment and immediately got her approval to connect Laurent. Sophie was extremely upset to be given no time to act." Journalists liked to repeat themselves.


    Georges, Electoral''s creator and programmer, was sitting at his console a few feet behind the reporter. He was at his station monitoring the feed of the 125 remote players. He used a headset and communicating with Marilyn in code words. Dr. Shin hunched over Laurent''s form. She was closely monitoring the reading of the new Rho monitor on her forearm. Susie did not like the new technology. It gave her insight into her patient, but she had no clue what the vibrations in the feed meant. Susie now had another tool to try and evaluate the health of her patient, but she felt like a market trader watching a stock index trying to anticipate the next crash.


    Laurent''s physician would not enjoy what was about to transpire. "As you can imagine," said Milly, "Marilyn only told us to watch the broadcast for greater clarification as to his condition. We should find out live on the air if Laurent is fine and can play. But I can say this: Marilyn, in her usual demeanor, finished the conversation with a wink and an enormous smile. She is obviously not scared of what is coming next. To me, that means Laurent is fine. We will find out very soon."


    "She is such a show-off."


    "Indeed!" confirmed the journalist. Behind Milly, Georges looked over his shoulder in her direction. In a rare show of emotion, the big man smiled at the Asian woman. Electoral was right, he liked the journalist.


    John continued, "Milly, I apologize, my producer says the Electoral broadcast is going live in five," as he countdown from Earth, "four," the images behind Milly Wong in the Mars command room also counted down, "three, two, and one."


    The game started. This was round 26. More than five billion people would be watching the twenty-sixth round of the thirty-two round tournament. To everyone around the world except one man, what transpired in the game was the most important event of modern times.

 Chapter 69: Smiles

    Meanwhile in Paris


    "Hi!" said a playful Takeda to the tall muscular stranger. In the darkness of the bathhouse maze, the guard was standing in only a towel. The man was light-colored and the blond hair contracted against the black surroundings. The thug was in great shape, a breath of fresh air in this sad place. The guard, who had given his name previously as David, was standing awkwardly in the narrow hallway of the bathhouse between numerous doors to different small rooms. His towel was tied awkwardly and refused to stay on his hips as he moved. The dark maze of rooms was understandably shocking to this man. Most of the doors were closed. The sights behind the ajar ones were not for the faint of heart. There was no physical beauty or love here, only crude lust. Each door had a large painted number. Patrons rented beds by the hour, and it went without saying that no one ever slept drug-free here.


    The guard was at least 6''3" and reminded Takeda of a South African rugby player; primal and easy to deceive. David''s eyes would need time to adjust to the darkness. The guard instinctually stepped back as he saw Takeda. As he did, his towel slipped open. Takeda lost any hope the man was gay when he saw a hideous pair of boxer shorts under the towel. David''s other hand was holding a small key. The key locked and unlocked the man¡¯s miniature room.


    David was taken aback by his subject, who stood right before him, smiling and wearing nothing much. At least he just had confirmed the target was here. But David wasn''t supposed to be seen, on that part, he''d stumbled.


    "Hi!" The young man''s intentions were clear, even to David. If Takeda chose to hang out in a place like this, his demeanor could only mean one thing. The guard blushed, turned and walked away. David turned a corner, a second, and a third. In his haste, he almost dropped the towel. He had no clue where he was going, but he needed space between him and the young man. His job was to shadow in complete discretion, and this obviously was not it.


    The guard walked down a couple of hallways, turned sharp corners and went up dirty stairs. This place was insanity. On some of the walls, at V-shaped intersections were large screens playing the most graphic porn he''d ever seen. Everywhere, there were mirrors. If Takeda had looked at all threatening, he would have had a problem, but his subject appeared as defenseless as they came.


    David was not an insecure man, and of the men in the van, he alone had agreed to walk in. But this was much worse than what he expected. He turned another corner, a second, and arrived in an area where there was finally some light. He saw a sad jacuzzi with what looked like a dead man in it. On his left was a dirty janitor cart. The mop was soaking in black water. The man in the Jacuzzi looked up, smiled and signed to David to jump in. This entire scenario was too much. He had to leave.


    After a couple of minutes in the maze, the guard''s eyes began to adjust to the darkness. He slowly regained his composure, feeling ashamed by his reaction. The tall pale man grabbed his courage by both hands. As he regained his calm, walking in this unfamiliar dungeon. He turned a corner and was face-to-face with young Takeda once again. The young man was there, still smiling. The subject wanted to have sex with him; there was no doubt about it. Takeda got closer and placed a hand on his abs. "Listen," he said gently in an effeminate voice. The guard jolted back. As he did, he felt a pull on his hand and another below his towel.


    "No!" David exclaimed instinctively. He turned around and walked away, knowing he was not supposed to engage Takeda so directly. This particular task was not for him; he should never have agreed to walk in. He needed to find his room, get dressed and leave. Then it struck him; he could not recall his room number. Surely it was written on the key.


    There was panic as he realized his hand was empty. In the commotion, he lost it. Maybe he''d dropped it in haste, or worse yet, maybe the subject had just taken it from him. He had to get back to the room; his gun was there under the pillow. The large white painted numbers on the doors appeared to be random; this made no sense to him. He knew his room was one hundred and something. The doors around him were numbered in the two hundreds. He was probably on the wrong floor; he needed to find a stairway to go down.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    David was botching this assignment with every passing moment. The man he was shadowing certainly had his key. At this precise moment, Takeda might be in the room where David had undressed, stealing his gun. He took a deep breath and stood in place as he collected himself.


    Meanwhile! Takeda key in hand found the guard¡¯s room, ignoring the gun he instead grabbed the man¡¯s cellphone. It was locked. Within moments, at a turn, Takeda was once again standing in front of the baffled guard. The young man was smiling and even looked playful.


    "Don''t run," said Takeda, "you must like bigger guys, no?" The guard would have to deal with this. "Love the underwear," continued Takeda as he adjusted his own towel. The talk had no effect on David. The guard remembered the humid jungles of Panama, the bugs, and wished he was back there. He did not feel any physical danger, just awkward and disrespectful. "All I want is a kiss, in exchange for what you just dropped." Takeda pulled a hand from behind his back, dangling the guard''s room key.


    This was just perfect, David sighed internally. Their mission was simply to monitor and report every move while staying undetected. His failure at remaining unseen was becoming ever more severe. The scientist was now holding the phone in the palm of his hand. The screen was lit and ready to be unlocked once the guard''s finger touched the glass.


    Takeda needed information and thus access to the phone.


    The guard leaned over for a kiss.


    ¡°Eyes closed,¡± offered Takeda. The man did.


    Takeda flashed the phone who recognized the man and unlocked and then a quick kiss. Takeda apologized as he gave David the key as promised. "Sorry, sorry, you are too hot!"


    Takeda looked down in his hand behind his back. In the darkness, the screen glowed, it was unlocked. He needed to move fast.


    "What''s your name?" asked Takeda.


    "John," lied the guard.


    Takeda removed the phone cover. It looked like any one of millions of identical devices, the man could not guess it was his without seeing the screen which Takeda kept away. The virologist spent the next hour plundering the guard''s cell. The young man searched the guard''s private emails in perfect tranquility. The work email folders were not even protected by a second password. The texts, the social media accounts, and even the guard''s job information were open for access. Nick''s trust in these people was a sign the old ghost was getting softer. In times past, a guard in David''s position would never have been so careless. If one had been, it was unlikely that individual would be gainfully employed again, and not because of a poor reference.


    In the emails, Takeda learned David pay came through a company called Lionel SARL. His wife was Stephanie Orden. His last assignment was in Toulouse watching someone named Professor Lalancette. He then looked Lalancette up. The scholar was a neuroscientist. He had his own page in the online encyclopedia. The lead was very promising. The Frenchman was the world''s leading expert in what others called advanced brain waves, including those being discussed in conjunction with mars. Brain research positively looked like a way to kill millions in their sleep. The man also had authored an article titled "Danger from Brain Pattern Interferences of Rho Waves." That sealed the deal for Takeda. He needed to talk to this man and make sure that he was not also tasked with destroying the world.


    Once done with the phone, Takeda returned it in front of Room 113 and pushed it under the door unclear if the man was still there. On his way back to his room, Takeda felt rather proud of himself. He could have been a spy, he told himself. He returned to the cinema, sat down and reclaimed his tablet.


    As he lifted it, it was powered on. He did not remember being so clumsy. He had turned it off; he was sure of it. Intrigued, he looked. The logo of the Electoral corporation was swirling. The moment he moved the tablet, the screen changed. On it, a polite message flowed across the screen: "Inbound confidential communication from Miss Marilyn Monroe, CEO of the Electoral Corporation. Please return to your room for privacy and slide in an ear piece. Room 85 cute one,¡± concluded the message.


    So much for his spy skills.

 Chapter 70: The Order

    Takeda looked around. No one was watching. He had read about the power and intelligence of the first artificial intelligence, which was now apparently living on mars. It was conducting the election game named Electoral. Curious, he did as instructed.


    Takeda''s stress level tripled. An hour ago, he had been snooping around the internet looking at web pages any superior intelligence could guess was research for a strange task. He knew sooner or later his efforts to create a destructive new virus would seize the notice of this creature. It had taken but minutes for her to catch onto him. Her speed, even for an omnipresent monster, was ridiculously fast. Takeda''s mind raced. He first wondered if Monroe was not somehow working for the ghost, and if so, whether she knew of his infiltration of the guard''s phone. His plan must remain discrete, no, absolutely secret. The guard''s cell phone had a GPS, so Marilyn probably knew it had been accessed in close proximity to his tablet.


    If Marilyn were even half as intelligent as everyone put her forward as, she would never let him give life to a deadly weapon. Somehow knowing humans had a gatekeeper reassured him. The virologist knew of his race''s collective stupidity. He walked to his tiny room, locked the door behind him and slid in the earbud as instructed as he sat on the bed.


    It took Takeda seconds to grasp the power of Marilyn Monroe. On the small screen appeared a three-dimensional image of one of the most luxurious spas imaginable. In this place, the pools were deep blue, warm, and surrounded by artificial waterfalls. Exotic birds soared between golden perches. The spa was empty except for a woman being massaged by a tall Turkish man. Takeda, having near perfect recall, immediately recognized the masseur. The man was the gay actor who''d performed so enthusiastically on the small screen in his room moments ago. The blond woman lounged extravagantly as the tattooed and steroid-filled hulk gently kneaded her muscles. The large man was wearing a Roman skirt and gold jewelry around his neck.


    The camera stopped its panoramic travel as Marilyn herself raised her head from the table. She stood up and gently folded up the towel around her breast. She moved deliberately, sensually, capturing the full attention of Takeda sitting alone in his dark room. This creature was obviously brilliant, he thought to himself. She sent a clear message of her omnipresence. The choice of scene and actor were a slap in the face, a message that she knew and saw all. At a whim, she controlled her world utterly and knew all that transpired in his world. He suspected a demonstration of her ability to influence the latter world would follow at some point.


    The same way Takeda had opened his waist towel and flashed David back in the maze, Marilyn crossed her towel and flashed her breasts. As she did so, she mimicked Takeda''s exact gesture and body posture. The hint was clear: from her digital world, she''d seen his every move. The instant his brain registered her true meaning, she winked and blew a kiss his way.


    Marilyn''s hair was flawless. She crossed her arms over her breasts in a very sensual stance. She was, unequivocally, the most beautiful creature in the world. "I prefer my getaway spot to your little haven of debauchery, but to each their own, I suppose."


    Takeda could not believe what he was seeing. Everyone described Marilyn as the ultimate narcissist and on that count, she delivered. The digital creature snapped her fingers and twelve perfect men wearing nothing more than Egyptian skirts entered. They were holding poles with feathered fans. They carefully positioned themselves and began to work, keeping their virtual Goddess comfortably cool. Their necks and bronzed chests dripped with deep yellow gold chains. The computer was playing on Takeda''s distractible and horny gay mind. The beauty of the men was too much for him to handle. He looked away.


    "Mister Tamichi," she began, "Takeda darling, let me put you at ease, I am not calling about your sinister plans. I care about them but not for the reason you think. We will be talking in a couple of days once you discover an essential portion of your invention. I am very excited by what you are about to discover. Few, very few humans intrigue me, you do."


    Takeda was completely unprepared for this encounter. Marilyn held all the cards and had the further advantage of knowing his. She even had the element of surprise. All he could do was learn from the encounter, try to minimize the damage, and stay alive.


    "What do you want?" he asked.


    "A man to the point, lovely. Let''s start with the official reason for my call." He saw her on the screen grab a glass of champagne and drink from it. "I need your authorization to use your identity and image in one of my scenarios. The one starting right now. You know, there''s a law about privacy; not that it applies to me or even to what happens here on mars. But I don''t need to give the Senators any reason to file another grievance against my game. I want and need to use your image, the one when you were on the edge of death in that Hell-hole where Nick changed your body, not this sweeter younger version of yourself." She drank again and waited for his answer.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Sounds like an elaborate lie. Do people fall for stuff like this?"


    She put a hand over her uncovered heart as if the man¡¯s words had wounded her. She was smiling. "Just say yes, it''s mostly a rhetorical and pointless question. Call it a courtesy, if you like." Marilyn drank one more sip of her drink and splashed the rest on the white shorts of her massage therapist. Takeda could not believe his eyes. This was the most erotic thing he''d ever seen. She continued, "I can be so clumsy." This woman took the definition of "tease" to a new level. She reached down and almost touched the man''s privates. "You aren''t the only one with the power of seduction. Joking aside, if Nick calls you, use my request as the pretext to hide the true interest of this call." Takeda was in no position to negotiate.


    "I guess."


    "Say yes."


    "Yes." For the first time since his return, Takeda was worried. The computer was frighteningly intelligent. For the first time in his life, he felt utterly out of his depth, like a high-school physics student talking physics with Einstein. "What''s the real reason for your call?"


    "In about nine minutes, President Sanchez, as part of his Round 26 simulation will walk into a room where your old body will be sleeping. In that Vienna place you were last week. If my calculations are correct, his proximity to your mind should allow him to catch up quickly on your little mission. You gentlemen need to connect; you have a common enemy."


    "Nick?"


    "No. This issue is much larger, but for the moment you can imagine Nick is to blame. I''m very good at simulating discussions, but I figured you guys needed to talk in private. One day you will thank me, I promise."


    "I don''t understand. Isn''t Sanchez playing your game right now? You want me to talk to him while he plays, that doesn''t sound very private."


    "It''s more complicated than that. All you need to know is, if I draw a digital version of you in Round 26, he won''t be fooled: he''ll know the intelligence behind that drawn version of Takeda would simply be mine. He wouldn''t be able to see the multiple circumstances and outcomes linked with your mission. Once I connect you to the system, Emilio''s gift should detect the unique presence."


    "Marilyn? Do I call you Marilyn?"


    "Yes."


    "Let''s back up a moment," rapidly backpedaling as he strove to understand. He needed to delay her. "As you can imagine, I''m entirely confused. You speak of a Round, a game, how is that relevant? You want me to talk to this President Emilio and tell him what?"


    "Takeda, darling," she grabbed the masseuse''s forearm in the digital world. "I feel for your need to understand the entirety of what''s going on, but honestly, it would be a waste trying to explain it at this stage. Needless to say, this is a highly complex situation and we''re pressed for time. Let''s just say a soldier going to war doesn''t need a seminar on the richness of the culture he is about to fight. We will talk later, I am looking forward for it."


    The absurdity of the situation was not lost on Takeda. "I guess?"


    "Good. Thank you. Just stay connected."


    "Why are you doing this?" he blurted out before the screen turned dark. He knew she couldn''t refuse him one question.


    "Isn''t it obvious by now? To some, I am just out for better ratings. To others, I''m trying to destroy the world. Finally, some think I''m into this to save the human race."


    "From what? So who is right?"


    "It''s very simple. My father is the dearest thing I have. To save him, I now have to rescue this entire dimension. What would you give to have your mother back? He is the only thing that matters to me at this point. As payment, let me tell you Nick broke your telomeres. You should take a look at that when you have a chance. You new God Virus will fix you. Start with that after you create the God Virus. You have weeks, not months."


    There it was, she knew his secret. "How?" he let out under his breath.


    Her answer was even scarier. "You are one of the few pieces of non-linearity around me these days. You, Sophie and Emilio. Good luck, enjoy the ride. Most of this is scripted." Takeda knew the roles played by his telomeres as part of his cell replications. In a cell, these were the key elements linked with cell aging. Marilyn had read between the lines, and the computer had determined that he was a biological time bomb.


    On the screen, Marilyn turned and grabbed a glass on a tray with yellow opaque liquid and just said "Lemon juice?" His lips stiffened. The primary obstacle he''d encountered as he designed the META virus was the stability of the telomeres. After months of research, he found the strangest solution which he has kept secret since the initial infection. He had a key element, which he never disclosed and if omitted from the process of inoculation made the META virus impossible to replicate. Decades ago, he had laced virus with citric acid, commonly called lemon juice. Marilyn''s warning was simple: she knew everything and was more powerful than he could imagine. She pointed at the glass.


    "One last question," begged Takeda.


    "Listen cutie, you apparently don''t understand how I work. You don''t ask the questions, I do."


    "But..."


    "You have two minutes. Remember, find a way to tell Emilio you''re the real deal. He''s inside a simulation and is well aware of the fact. He will not know that it''s the real and actual Takeda speaking, he''ll think I''m simulating it. Luckily, his little talent will be able to tell the difference, subconsciously. I cannot tell him you are real; that¡¯s against the rules. I can''t talk privately to any player." The screen went dark.


    "How can I?"


    The Electoral logo rotated next to a two-minute countdown. Takeda was shocked by the realism and power of this creature. How could such a being truly exist? How could she have so much access to his past? Her mastery of the digital world seemed unfettered. For the moment he had no option, he would talk to the President. In fact, he was looking forward to the encounter.

 Chapter 71: Round 26

    Round 26


    25 Days To The Sixth Attraction


    Electoral did what she was created to do. From millions of miles away, crackling inside her memory from her home on mars, the digital intelligence took control of a new world in which humanity immersed itself so regularly. Instantly, she connected the 127 players to the game and allowed well over two billion viewers to watch the show. An invisible network of thoughts perforated, permeated, and enveloped earth. Excepting President Sanchez on earth and Sophie''s father located in the Arena, the other 126 players entered her world using Screenlenzs and a control glove. Each in the lobby of the hotel was standing on a colorful floor mats with little rounded edges. About half the players, based on their preferences, also wore gravity boots. No one cared about the majestic view of mars in front of them, this was more important.


    Humanity did not know about the sand creatures on mars, the Dot stolen from Liam, the Nexus or even the Purple. All they still knew was that Sophie was magical and the Glass Slipper encountered strange turbulence on its pre-inauguration flight. Sophie and her father were at the Center and one player died of a mysterious ailment.


    The distant sun was rising over the horizon over the dusty planet. From the lobby, the system¡¯s star appeared nearly half the size it was down on earth. Here, looking directly at the sun without protection was fine; its intensity was a fraction of what it was in the Saharan desert. The faint green-yellow haze in the atmosphere further weakened the power of the white giant. Phobos, the irregular-shaped moon was brighter than the sun and dominated at an angle in the sky.


    Because of its status as a planet, most people were surprised to see humans bounce as they moved over the mars surface. With 38% of earth''s gravity, players could jump five times as high as back home as they played. With excitement in the game, standing on the play pad immersed in a virtual reality, they could instinctively jump and hit the high ceilings of the hotel. Electoral was ready to unroll a scenario designed to avoid bursts of physical energy, the game would be mostly intellectual; a period piece. High above the hotel and miles above the ground alongside the slow, endless slope of the Mons shone, diamond-like, the Glass Slipper. The transparent glider was at its docking station undergoing rigorous tests. So far, the glider''s integrity seemed sound.


    In 2072, the new collective drug was no longer social media, opiates or even alcohol; it was Electoral. It fused the intensity of politics, the entertainment of video games and a palpable sense of human drama. Once connected to Electoral 2072, it took the remaining contestants what a seemingly endless amount of time to customize their preferred settings and begin their simulations. Amongst other things, they chose the clothing of their character, the accent, even the hair color. Next, they watched a tutorial on ordinary life in Chicago, Illinois, during the era of Prohibition. But this was a breeze when compared with the battle settings of the Presidential Challenge.


    To the ordinary viewer watching the show, there was no pause; the games started in a heartbeat as Electoral sped the process deep in the minds of the last players. Earlier this year, as part of Round 12, millions of players had spent, from their perspective, a full week inside the simulation. They had been castaways lost on a Pacific island. To the rest of the world, the week-long endeavor was nothing more than an hour of sped-up play. Marilyn controlled time in her world; she could slow things down or speed them up as needed.


    No human technology could replicate this lagging effect. Scientists were excited about this slowing-down of the brain instead of accelerating it. If, to a space traveler, what felt subjectively like an hour-long nap could, in reality, span multiple days, moving amongst the stars would become much more feasible. As was typical, however, asking the artificial intelligence for her secrets was a waste of time.


    For the moment, the excitement was not about the story or the science; it was about Laurent Lapierre''s state of mind and his reunion with the world''s sweetheart. Was Sophie''s father even alive? Earth collectively crossed its fingers. Before that particular drama could play out, though, President Emilio Sanchez would play. Typically Emilio played during the second hour; today he went first.


    Invisible to all but Marilyn, the brain waves of the billions watching the game flowed into her system and meshed into a powerful sea of energy. Like a solar flare filling the void of space, the eruption of energy jolted the solar system awake. Rho waves began to clash and merge, building into a slow, unstoppable crescendo of power. Monroe alone saw and could use these waves to enhance the experience of her viewers. With each passing simulation, she was getting better at controlling Rho waves. Round 26 was, to Marilyn, the unseen shift on an ocean floor that releases the tsunami. To the players and viewers, this would be an unprecedented, exhilarating rush. Brains were awake, alive and vibrating with emotional arousal.


    In the cosmos, the power of Rho waves continued their steady ascendance, sourced by the blue gem called earth. In space, these waves overlapped with others of many types. Unlike solar waves, which attenuated with distance, Rho waves increased in power as they traveled further from earth. As if to acknowledge its growing influence, the gem of the solar system twinkled in the cosmos.


    Viewers of Electoral possessed generous viewing options. Most importantly, they needed to pick one of the 126 players to watch in real-time. Electoral, of course, offered the option for any viewer to view any other players after the fact. For a fee, of course. Laurent Lapierre was absent from the list to the impatient irritation of many. The President, while leading in the rankings, was today an ordinary contestant. With a few exceptions, everyone elected to watch Emilio.


    Because of the recent doubt cast on Laurent''s well-being and Sophie''s role in her heroic attempt at his rescue, the clamor to see him was deafening. No one even knew if the man even had a mind left with which to participate. Marilyn insisted on total editorial control over her broadcast, and it was in no one''s power to say no. True to her nature, she made an executive decision to prolong the suspense and extend the broadcast to a two-hour live event with the help of CNN''s enthusiastic anchors. Emilio would play Round 26, then, an hour later, she would air Laurent''s performance. Laurent would play at the same time as everyone else, but the broadcast of his game, if it even took place, would be delayed.


    Only one person today would see Laurent''s live performance: his young legal guardian. She hinted at her desire to see her father immediately; there was no pushback. Marilyn replied, "Of course you can see him, I''d have it no other way. I hope he''s fine. You must be worried. Is it okay if you watch and don''t jump in with him during the game? Another presence requires me to put more strain on his mind. Keeping the amount of energy I supply him with is the least dangerous course." Sophie agreed. After all, he had now been in this state for days while she grabbed Liam from his strange world.


    Back at the Electoral Watch Cell, floors below the President¡¯s office, the team led by the young man began to monitor brain waves flowing into the system. They felt the strange waves were the important factor. These scientists were unable to distinguish the Rho waves from better-known varieties, but they saw the energy flowing out of the system and into the stratosphere and beyond.


    The broadcast began on time, as it always did. Unlike the Presidential Challenge, there was no explosion of light, color or sound. Round 26 began softly. All screens shifted to a soft, creamy white and music filled the void. It had been well over a century since any significant broadcast used the romantic feel of black and white. Electoral''s Round 26 would be colorless except for some touches of color to enhance Electoral''s beauty. Powerful filters gave the broadcast a feel of walking back into the 19th Century. This was no gritty recreation of the past. Instead, she set forth a romantic view of the difficult era. The white tones were gracious to Marilyn Monroe, born in that long past era.


    Credits typed by an old typewriter appeared. Classical piano music played softly in the background. Sebastian Bach''s early works brought a touch of romanticism. After the roll out of the opening credits, Electoral printed a touching acknowledgment to Sophie Lapierre for her help. Watching from the Center, the young girl smiled. She liked Marilyn; the blond was clumsy but had a good heart. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The game began.


    This was a black and white sunny day.


    A bird chipped on the edge of a large wooden sign. It welcomed visitors to a retirement home. A winding gravel road allowed carriages and two cylinder-engine cars travel under a row of arching trees. Curiously, the image was part of a peaceful European forest, not the United States. The sign read: "Mountain Ridge Residences, Chicago."


    President Emilio was the only player who knew this place; he had recently seen it. This building had been blown up in Vienna about a week ago by the old ghosts from the Visconti. "This is not a coincidence," he told himself. Marilyn knew better than to use European landscape and foreign architecture for a Chicago setting. She was never off-script. Every detail counted to the creature. Emilio knew deep down there was a purpose to this choice, and his instincts told him it was probably a message directed at him.


    Takeda, the dying virologist, had walked out unscathed from an explosion here. The centenarian''s appearance had changed radically if indeed Emilio was looking at the same man. The cameras lost sight of Takeda instants after he left that parking lot. Privacy was impossible in this new digital world. Marilyn was always careful not to give any player an advantage over others; so she never used an existing location. That she had elected to at this point set Emilio''s nerves on edge.


    Using this residence sent Emilio a clear message: Takeda was here ¡ª the real Takeda.


    Like all players, Emilio watched the introduction unfold before his eyes. Everyone else would see a clip lasting about thirty seconds and characters talk to each other; though Emilio''s gift allowed him to glean much more information. A carriage rolled softly to the front door of the Residence. The driver was careful not to disturb a precious passenger. The horses stopped in the entry of the main building. A man walked out from the Residence wearing a suit. A welcoming committee of sorts. The driver walked around and opened the door to help an aging woman get out of the carriage. She smiled. "Welcome Madam Emmanuel," offered the manager. He kissed her hand. The woman blushed. "We are honored to have you here; your son is a kind man."


    The old lady grabbed the hand and carefully placed her shoe on the ledge. "He certainly is," she answered as a nurse brought over a platter with two flutes of Champagne.


    "I hope he wins the election."


    "So do I. So do I."


    Emilio''s singular mind exploded as hundreds of alternative scenarios flooded in. He quickly ran and dismissed the images in which the manager helped the lady visit the grounds. He was able to project himself in simulations in which he played the manager of the residence who, instead of walking out to welcome the new guest at the carriage, walked past the front door and visited, in turn, each of the rooms of the building. In his mind, as the manager, Emilio opened each door. Emilio''s gift allowed him to siphon, categorize and extrapolate a great deal of information from very little input.


    In each simulation, he only had about thirty seconds. His mind''s eye opened the doors looking each time for the virologist. He ran up the stairs, then in more simulations he walked down to the basement of the structure. Finally, he opened the last door to Room 20C. Behind it sat Takeda. He was in a frail body barely capable of holding himself in a sitting position. The man was very old but was awake; his eyes where those of a young man. The virologist looked at Emilio with his piercing eyes.


    His vision ended. Emilio was back watching the old lady grab the flute of champagne. The President''s heart raced. For the first time in this game, there was drama and excitement. He wondered if Marilyn would decide to broadcast his dreams to the world. He had no way to know what she would use but he knew Takeda was here.


    As suddenly as the prelude began, it ended. The visions were gone.


    Everyone was back watching a busy Chicago street. Here, a handful of old cars made their way along a cobblestone downtown road. The rocks on the ground were flat. These images were from the Al Capone era and every detail was perfect. In the streets, boys were selling the morning edition of the Chicago Sun Times. It was a sunny spring day; the straw in the street above the stones was damp. As usual, Marilyn''s attention to detail was breathtaking.


    A large white car turned a street corner and made its way down the street. The license plate read simply "SEXY." Its windows were tainted, but there was no doubting that Marilyn Monroe was sitting inside. Each round began with her arrival. She gave proof that narcissism was not confined to the Homo Sapiens. Letters flashed in the sky on each screen.


    Round 26 - President Emilio Sanchez


    First Position - 2434 Points


    The game was addiction, this was why.


    Soft music began in the background as President Sanchez''s narrated with a heavy Chicago accent. "Don''t know why the hell I woke up this morning. Should have gone with my gut and stayed in bed. Been months since my last client walked in, and with the recession and all, I need the work. Done being picky." The white car drove up and parked in front of a five-story brick building. "Yep, that''s my dump."


    The chauffeur ran out, circled the car and opened the passenger door. The detail was spectacular; viewers saw the hand of the driver reach in to help the passenger out of the vehicle. A long, covered leg unfolded. The woman gently put a high-heeled shoe on the crooked rocky curb. The camera panned out to show Marilyn Monroe come out of the vehicle. The digital creature was stunning and used every tool in her arsenal to enhance the experience. The gentle morning light and filtering techniques gave her a natural luminescence. She was wearing a hat, a sleeveless white cocktail dress with a side slit to the upper thigh. Her naked shoulders were warmed by a long ermine boa. The black tips of the tails were in perfect alignment around her neck.


    Marilyn was playing a wealthy and prominent woman. She flicked her wrist, and the chauffeur gave her a long cigarette holder cocked with a white tube. He lit her up. Back on earth, Marilyn was bound by the rules of broadcasting and smoking on television was prohibited; on mars it was not. Wearing real fur also was forbidden. She''d obviously thrown the rule book out the window. Emilio could feel her contempt for man''s rules from millions of miles away.


    The President''s narration resumed as Marilyn made her way inside the building. "I hate rich broads -- specifically the type married to poor old schmucks. I''m a private eye, not a marriage counselor. These broads always want me to spy on their husbands; nothing is simpler. By the look of this one, you would figure she was married to Capone himself. My gut was nagging me; I knew helping her was the best way to finish the night in Lake Michigan with a new pair of cement shoes. Then again, who was I to turn down a five dollar job?"


    The Marilyn character walked to the door of the building. The chauffeur opened the freight elevator. Both entered the cage and slowly made their way to the top floor. Emilio''s narration continued, "When the door to my office opened, it was obvious to me. This was triple, no, quadruple the normal rate. No one else in this town was desperate enough to take this job. I was going to see a twenty today." As he finished the sentence, the door of the office opened. The bodyguard let her enter first after a quick glance inside.


    There wasn''t much in the largely empty room. In the back was a thick desk with a sawed-off shotgun mounted underneath, two chairs and a small sign which read "E.W. Sanchez - Private Eye."


    Without a word, cigarette holder in her mouth, she slowly removed both of her long white gloves one finger at a time. Once done, she handed them to her bodyguard and gestured for him to leave. As the door closed, she moved closer, took a good look at the player and sat on the corner of Emilio''s heavy desk. She crossed her legs in the most provocative way she could.


    "Detective."


    "Yep?" answered Emilio.


    "I need your help."


    "It''s three dollars per hour plus expenses, twenty each day," said the detective. Emilio''s internal narrative continued, "This chick doesn''t care about money," said the off voice to the billions of viewers. Emilio''s character continued but this time with his speaking voice, "What''s a hot chick like you doing in a sleazy place like this?"


    "I need discretion."


    Emilio almost choked. The word "discretion" was not part of Marilyn''s vocabulary in any reality. He put both of his feet on his desk, dangerously close to where Marilyn was sitting. "Discretion''s my middle name, little lady."


    "I am the wife of Andrew Emmanuel, the banker. I think someone is blackmailing him out of his bid for Mayor of Chicago."


    "Listen, lady, everyone in this town is either blackmailed or corrupt. We have a special word for it; we call it breathing." Electoral put a laugh track on the pun.


    "This case is special," she reached into her bra and pulled out a small business card. As she handed it over, a gunshot echoed from across the street. It broke the glass and hit Marilyn in the heart. She fell very elegantly to the ground, lifeless. Her death was part of the scenario and well orchestrated. There was no pain or even noise. Emilio got up just in time to grab the business card from her hand as she dropped. Her death was part of the story; there was no point in fighting it.


    "This is why you always get a retainer," said the Private Eye as Marilyn''s bodyguard rushed to the room. "Goddammit, I needed this one," said Emilio in the off voice. He looked at the business card; it read: "Michel Leduc, General Manager -- The Mountain Ridge Residence." He knew that man; it was Leduc''s point of view he had just borrowed to walk around the building and find Takeda. He was sure of it.


    Emilio''s character smiled, but his inner self, playing the game from his office in Berlin, was now nervous. The scenario of Round 26 was simple, deceptively so. But there was more. His detective character needed to go to the retirement home to solve the murder. He needed to visit the Residence to get the message Marilyn had set up for him. Room 20C was intriguing for a different reason. It then came to Emilio that the Chairman of the Visconti was undoubtedly watching the game along with everyone on earth. To Nick, this would ring alarm bells. Marilyn was shining a light on the ghost''s secret plan.


    He was puzzled.


    There was a long commercial pause.

 Chapter 72: Room 20C

    The game''s black and white broadcast resumed with a soft transition away from the noisy advertisement. The piano music was somewhat faster, Chopin now played. A bright cab was driving up the long winding road past the sign of the Residence. In the back of the car, Emilio was making sure his gun was loaded.


    The narration returned. "I''m still not real clear why I followed that lead. This cab ride alone is going to cost me a fortune. It''s bad business to represent dead clients, but that broad deserved for me to find the truth. Note to self: "buy a car".¡± Emilio arrived at the front door of the large building. He stepped out of the yellow cab and paid. "Don''t wait," he said. The driver had no intention of doing so.


    Emilio expected someone to walk out of the Residence and greet him. He lit up a cigarette and took a pull. No one walked out. He continued the narration, "This place smells like dead money. That broad''s husband must have serious tunes to afford this for his mom. He''ll pay for my broken window. As a PI, it''s bad business to let clients walk out on a stretcher. I don''t need my name in the headlines tomorrow. I have to get to the bottom of this now." He took another puff and looked around.


    In this scenario, it was now late in the afternoon. A beautiful fall day.


    Many residents were wandering these grounds in little groups. The retirees were often flanked by younger family members or part of the nursing staff. It was evident the Residence was comfortable to these rare guests. As he looked at their faces, Emilio''s strange mind took over. In a micro-second, hundreds of alternative futures crashed into him. He saw himself walk over and talk to each of these residents. Each time, the scenario was different, but deep inside he felt he was off the preferred path. Other players had to decide what path to take. They had to investigate by hand with what Emilio could do in seconds. Emilio did not. Relying on his gift, he was able to quickly discard the cul-de-sacs from the genuine lead of each story.


    His gift allowed him to feel which path was the right to take. The election system called Electoral played like a live role playing game or a video game. A person did what he or she wanted. Using the interface, a player simply had to stay on a predetermined path the longest. The computer awarded points when certain heroic actions occurred. His gift could not put words in the mouth of the digital images of characters populated by the system, but each time he got impressions.


    Armed with this unique gift, Emilio frankly could not see how Laurent or anyone else could beat him. But the crippled father of the girl called Sophie was scoring big each round; that was undeniable. Somehow, he had a gift. This was not the time for such mental gymnastics, however. For the moment, he needed to find Takeda.


    This latest story, Emilio told himself, appeared rather simple. An old woman, the one in the introduction, was the mother of the banker husband of his dead client. Villains of some type had leverage on the banker and mayoral candidate and had forced him out of his political run. This was a deadlocked situation. Would players have the interest of the voters in mind and help this old lady escape or would they have the interest of this old woman at heart?


    Unlike what everyone liked to say, Emilio found the Electoral game straightforward and predictable. Her stories were always clich¨¦s. Marilyn Monroe had many formidable facets, but authoring wasn''t one. Today would be no exception. Layered upon this story was some human value used to help scoring. Sometimes it paid to be kind, other times, being strong was advisable. Even cruelty had its place. Those moods were easy to guess based on the overall feel of the game. To Emilio, at least.


    The game, as Marilyn described it herself, was designed to elect a good human, not the best player. Emilio was no saint, but compared to elected officials, he was much better. A week ago, at the conclusion of the Presidential Challenge, she told the players empathy would be the twist of today''s game. At least that was clear. Players would have to empathize with either old lady, the son, the client or the population. By judging the fragility of these residents, the scenario lent sympathy toward the senior residents. It was clear that a cloak and dagger escape with the old lady wasn''t a good idea.


    Today''s game would be different. Emilio needed to visit Takeda in room 20C in a way which connected with this story. The detour would not be part of the main storyline. At this point, he no longer cared about the rankings. Something was nagging him, though.


    Emilio was certain that Electoral wanted him to speak directly to Takeda; either privately or for public broadcast. Then the President wondered if the computer has not inserted one "real" human in every game simulation. Emilio was a hundred points ahead; he no longer cared about his performance.


    In a heartbeat, visions flashed, and he knew the old lady from the preface was alone, sitting on a bench by the pond. He knew she was the story''s main character and the starting point before he could speak with Takeda. Emilio saw in his mind multiple storylines. In most a nurse would walk out from the front door of the main building holding a food platter. In some of the scenarios, he lifted the cover on the platter and saw what was under it.


    Emilio decided on the best course of action and resuming the story. The nurse passed inches from the private eye, Emilio lifted the metal cover and stole a piece of bread. The nurse smiled.


    "You want more?" she asked.


    Emilio waved to the negative and blew a kiss her way on his way to the pond. Ducks were swimming in front of the old lady. Emilio walked over and began to chip away pieces of bread throwing them into the water.


    "Nice day," he said to the lady.


    "No feeding the ducks, against the rules."


    "Sorry." He stopped and sat on the bench next to her.


    "I guess you couldn''t have known," softened the old lady.


    "I don''t get out of my office much. Banks are stuffy that way." Emilio was was at work now. Politics were a joke to him. He knew how to draw out the right information and sympathy. It was instinct, purely and simply. He was a good man, but still a predator.


    "My son is also a banker," she volunteered on cue.


    "Bankers love their mothers," he added. She smiled. "You like this place? I am thinking about it for my mother; she hates my son''s dog."


    "It''s truly a beautiful place. They''re so sweet here. We play bridge each day. Mister Leduc is like an adopted son to me; he runs this place. His mother is on the second floor. Her room is beautiful."


    Emilio smiled. The lady loved her new home. The story was simple, the banker''s mother was a prisoner in a perfect place. If he cared for the old lady, there as no reason to rain on her retirement choices. If the interest of the son and his client prevailed, he had to disclose the reality of this prison. Since the manager''s mother was here, maybe the man himself was being blackmailed. Leduc himself was being forced into this complicated situation. Each scenario had a perfect solution. Here there was a way for the woman''s world to remain intact and for the blackmail of the banker to end. That was the only solution worth the full 100 points. Emilio gave an internal finger to "the rules" as he gave the ducks more bread and reflected.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "This place must be expensive?"


    "I don''t know. My son takes care of it. You can ask Mister Leduc the price," she corrected herself, "Michel." The woman obviously liked the man. Emilio''s gift took over. He saw himself get up and approach about twenty other senior residents. They were all women. They each liked the man called Michel; he was a womanizer. Emilio knew nothing along those lines could be part of the story ahead of him. Electoral never placed the human race in a dark light or hinted at improprieties. He felt every resident in this place loved the manager.


    "Do you want me to introduce you to Michel?" she volunteered.


    "You''re too kind. That would be great. If you don''t mind, I want to see the building first, you know. I love to walk around, maybe see if that kitchen is as clean as I can imagine. My mom needs the best, but she hates light, are there rooms in the basement?" Emilio knew he needed an excuse if he was caught snooping around down there.


    "I don''t know. I don''t think so."


    He grabbed her hand, kissed it and concluded. "Off to the darkest and dirtiest corner. Please don''t tell."


    To Emilio, the game was simple. Every other player was wandering the extensive grounds in search of any kernel of truth. He alone had time given by the visions. He walked back to the building and entered it as if he was home. He could not send his mind to Room 20C, to open the door and see what would happen. That was not how his mind worked. The visions had to come to him; he could not command them.


    From his desk in Berlin, he pushed a button on his glove interface with his index finger, and this commanded his game body to enter the building and turn right down the stairs. As he walked past the first doors along the dark hallway, the visions returned. In them, he saw himself enter the kitchen, the closets, and other rooms.


    Nick was watching. Emilio could feel that with certainty. That particular strike was coming, he could feel it in his bones. Emilio sent his game body to the kitchen, knowing from a vision he would be allowed to enter Room 20C. Takeda was his goal. He''d give him some secret mission he wanted to be kept silent. The visions began again, clearer this time. In his mind, Emilio''s character opened the door to Takeda''s room. The images slowed down as he the President evaluated, dismissed, and decided.


    He was genuinely nervous as he turned the knob in his mind. Would this work? The very old man was still sitting on the edge of the bed. He was weak and frail even for a centenarian. His pajama was old and dirty. The room felt neglected. On a wall behind the old virologist was a small wooden frame. In it was framed in a horrible crochet piece of a deformed logo of the Electoral Center on mars. The anachronism was too strong to be a mistake. Emilio knew there was hidden information here. It had to be something he alone could understand, but it would have to wait.


    The man on the bed looked at him. His eyes were glowing. In years of playing this game, he had never witnessed such a situation. Emilio''s gift helped get an instant feel for this situation. This character was no character. This was another human. He could not be sure this was the real Takeda. But it damn well felt like it.


    Out of a million of possible ways to start this conversation, he chose what he felt was the best. He stepped closer to the bed, dropped to his knees and grabbed the man''s hand. Emilio made his online character sob.


    Takeda was part of the puzzle. The President knew Nick was building his bunker, something called the Ark. Sharon, the CEO of the World Tsunami Relief Foundation had honored her part of the bargain. A week ago, on the heels of his victory in the Presidential Challenge, he''d asked her to snoop around. Sharon was a determined woman, one who wanted desperately to get into his bed. Emilio could probably handle that, but it would be more of a duty than a pleasure. She confirmed the old ghost had built, in relative secrecy, an underground bunker just like it was described in Round 25.


    The place was highly fortified and unique in many ways. It wasn''t designed to control or monitor what was going on at the surface in case of an apocalypse. It was a tomb for a hundred individuals with tubes to allow these people to sleep for a long time. The Ark was a time capsule for bodies. Everything in the bunker was analog, even clockwork. They builders apparently felt electricity wouldn''t be around for long. The remainder function on geothermal heat pumps.


    Batteries powered the air circulators and filters in the bunker. It was evident this place was designed to survive a cataclysm. The timing was no coincidence. Keeping such a secret from Emilio and the other government officials had required incredible dedication. There was no doubt Sharon had tripped some alarms as she snooped around. She was still alive, at least probably thanks to Marilyn¡¯s game casting some light on this whole deal.


    Sharon had confirmed one more important fact. The Ark was going to go active before the end of the month. It was easy for Emilio to conclude the virologist was part of this plan; he knew Takeda was a friend of the monster. Well, "friend" was pushing it. A reluctant associate was probably more accurate. Nick wanted to hide from humanity, protect himself from it, simply annihilate it. Takeda was part of that plan. He needed to know why the bunker located in the south of France was necessary.


    "Father," Emilio began, "you''re alive!" He was playing a role for the cameras.


    Takeda, the real man, sitting on his bed in the male sauna of Paris, was struggling to follow the deception. Being somewhat behind the times, he was struggling with the concept of the game, particularly Monroe''s digital tricks. Remarkable, truly. He was talking to the President himself. The face of the President in this strange black and white world moved him strangely. He''d become an actor, passing secrets in plain sight to the entire planet. The virologist looked down and saw the skin on his hands; it was old. He assumed his entire appearance matched. He found comfort in thinking the President was watching him as an old man; his new identity remained uncompromised. Before the man began his interrogation, Takeda needed to tell the politician of his mission and that he had a month to act. "Yes, my son, I''m alive. A miracle, indeed. I only have a couple more weeks. I didn''t want you to see me this way. My disease will soon take over. In a month I should be dead along with everyone."


    Takeda knew his message had been successful when the detective answered. "Father, I will find a way to give you more time." Emilio felt like Takeda''s allegiances might have shifted. The President was no simpleton. Neither was Takeda, though. "Tell me about your brother," continued Emilio, "Uncle Nick." As he said the ghost''s first name, in the game, Emilio saw Takeda''s jaw lock. He knew the real Takeda had just tensed the same muscles wherever he sat. Electoral tracked facial expressions relentlessly, and her full attention was on this scene. The President knew Takeda and Nick were no longer co-conspirators. Takeda''s eyes blazed at the opportunity to murder the old ghost.


    Takeda saw the private eye''s gun at his waist. He looked around the room. He was in some strange new world in a movie of some type. This was all new to Takeda, but he was a fast learner. The virologist would play along, "You know Nick," began Takeda, "he can be very persuasive. He helped get me out of my coma and much more. Your uncle wants the entire inheritance. He asked me for billions." Billions. Nick wanted the entire world dead. Both men understood each other. "I will not enable him. Here is the problem, he has several other ways to get the billions,¡± continued Takeda. Emilio smiled. The old man continued, "You need to find my uncle and make sure he does not talk to Pierre, your brother. I cannot help in that way. I must focus on my task."


    Emilio took a moment to understand the allusion. There was another man named Pierre. Nick was using him. Takeda wanted the President to contact him. "I will. I promise. You focus on getting better. I need to..." Emilio saw the connection with the man end. The real Takeda was no longer in the shell of the old man. Electoral was back in control of the character. Emilio played on and grabbed the old hand. He kissed it gently as the game paused to a commercial break.


    Both men were puzzled by the encounter. Takeda felt the President had to help neutralize the man he had just covered seconds ago. The moment he gave the name, the connection ended. Marilyn wanted that information passed, nothing more. The President was a quick one; he''d extrapolate all he needed from their brief encounter. All Emilio needed was to find this first name in proximity with the old ghost. Nick was probably fuming with rage if he watched. The Chairman would know both he and Pierre were compromised. Even worse, he''d probably realized that the encounter was the real Takeda speaking. Takeda crossed his fingers. The President now held his life in his hands.


    The President, from his office, felt like he was back on the giant chess board of events. He mattered. What Takeda did not know is that the President knew exactly who Pierre was. Floors below, the large man was being brought to the Scientific Advisory Committee. Pierre was already in Berlin. Time to step back into his Faraday cage. Emilio smiled.

 Chapter 73: Completion

    Round 26 resumed. Unknown to Emilio, Electoral never put on air the contact between Emilio and the resident of room 20C. Instead, Marilyn edited Emilio''s character search the kitchen for traces of bacteria. Electoral resumed as Emilio walked around, quickly finding Mister Leduc, the manager of these premises, pretending to want information on behalf of his mother''s stay. Emilio and Leduc made their way to the head psychiatrist''s office. The man''s desk overflowed with paperwork. The characters created by Electoral were always realistic; they had quirks and flaws.


    He''d wasted time with his estranged conversation with Takeda, but it had been entirely necessary. Time was always short in the game; players couldn''t wander off the story path for long. He needed to catch up the other players who had likely already completed their game. Once in the manager''s office, he sat in a chair and looked around at all of the paperwork and knickknacks stacked on the shelves in the room. A flood of visions returned.


    His sixth sense gave him an impression of the reaction each time he looked at something in the room. In a vision, he grabbed an old radio, and the manager sat up stiff in his chair. Electoral loved logical stories; something was wrong with the device. In his vision, he smashed the radio on the ground; a large 20th-century microphone fell out. It was attached to a cable running out of the wall. The man was under surveillance. Some of the senior guests were essentially prisoners here, but the Psychiatrist, Leduc, wasn''t the one responsible, that much was clear to Emilio. In a heartbeat, the vision vanished. Emilio was back in the office, he as sitting and the radio was whole.


    "One moment," said the President playing the Private Investigator lighting a cigarette. He got up and turned on the radio for music to hide his words. The President returned to the desk, grabbed a pen and paper and scribbled, "Can they hear us?"


    "I no longer think so," replied Mr. Leduc, softly.


    "What leverage do they have on you?" There was no need to explain who was the group he was referencing.


    "My mother. She is here, in danger like all the others."


    "Why not call the cops?"


    "Chicago cops?" Emilio realized the stupidity of his question the moment it came out. Emilio was a politician. Clearly, the older residents loved this place. They enjoyed their last years in a beautiful environment. The President needed to find the solution to this puzzle. Someone had killed his client to keep him from investigating this place. Why would a man blackmail the banker, his dead client''s husband?


    Emilio looked around; he needed inspiration. Victory required finding a solution where the mother of the banker, the mayoral candidate who''d been his deceased client''s husband, decided of her own free will to leave these grounds. He had to get her on the next cab out of this place at her own request. Poisoning the food would never work. Burning the building down was an option, but it was sloppy and out of theme. Then it came to him. The guests were in love with Leduc; that was the solution.


    "Michel, is it?"


    "Yes."


    "You don''t know me, but I''m a private eye. Here''s the deal: I need a favor from you. Five minutes of your time and those guys won''t ever know what happened." He pointed at the microphone. "I just leave with your latest resident peacefully, Ms Emmanuel. If I leave alone, my next stop will be the press. You don¡¯t want that."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ***


    Marilyn edited to perfection. Moments later, Emilio was outside and had called a cab rolling in. It parked outside the front door. The private eye got in and asked the driver to wait. The President''s inner narration resumed, "Sure, I could care enough to go after the scum causing hurt in this place, but that won''t pay my rent. The problem with flirting is that it''s so easy to cross the line. Let''s see if I''m right."


    The camera turned. He watched as a nurse walked past the cab with Miss Emmanuel, his objective. She''d been summoned by Mister Leduc. From the cab, he looked up at the second-floor window. Staged for him, he saw Leduc try to kiss the old woman. The old newest resident slapped the psychiatrist''s face. Three minutes later, he saw the lady walk out and get into the cab. She radiated anger.


    "Do you mind?" she said as she slid next to him on the back seat of the cab.


    "What happened?" asked the President. He knew what had happened; he''d just engineered it, though this particular act had been made possible by the prescient precision of his gift. He''d instructed Michel to make a sexual advance on Miss Emmanuel. In this era, the reaction would be severe. As expected, she''d slapped Mr. Leduc, turned, and left. Flirting was okay, but anything more was out of the question.


    "I must get back to my son."


    The game ended as the cab rolled away from the large house.


    The credits rolled.


    ***


    Emilio knew his performance wouldn''t earn him the top score and he didn''t care. To grab one hundred points, he had to help the manager and jail his captors. There were higher concerns than points today, however. As he logged off, he received a score of 74 points, his all-time lowest. The President was genuinely curious to see Laurent''s condition. Emilio logged off. He sat up on his futon to drink a glass of water handed over by his assistant, Kai. The man was ready with a towel to wipe away the sweat his boss''s brow. Emilio was surprised by his level of exhaustion; by his usual standards, he''d barely played and had expended no energy. He had a sneaking suspicion that his perspiration had less to do with the game and more to do with the consequences of the events that swirled around it.


    "How long was I under?"


    "The preparation lasted twenty minutes, but your game lasted a mere three." Emilio wiped more sweat from his brow and smiled. For the first time this year, a simulation left him deep in thought. The President grabbed a second glass from the silver platter and took a deep smell of the Scotch. The ice cubes dance in the liquid as if to evaporate more alcohol for his next whiff. Emilio smiled at Kai before reconnecting to the game system; he was genuinely curious.


    Thanks to last week''s broadcast, he now knew why the interface was an unmatched mental rush and why time seemed to compress itself from the player''s perspective. Electoral''s little classroom demonstration after she''d evacuated Sophie and company from the Holiday Inn Mars had been most informative. The damn machine played violin with a person''s brain waves. Emilio knew the interface was highly addictive; that was why Marilyn made sure play time was restricted to the rounds.


    No amount of money could buy a person a single minute of the game on her system. Electoral only played at wanting to turn a financial profit in the most transparent manner. He now knew that the software really wanted large numbers people to connect simultaneously. There was a power there she very badly wanted to tap.


    Like everyone else around the world, Emilio needed to see for himself if Laurent was still alive and if he was even able to play. There was a dense cloud of mystery surrounding his runner-up. Since the flight, the man¡¯s health was in question. The President liked Sophie''s father and hoped to play against him in the finale. He had nothing to do with Laurent''s quasi-disqualification. In fact, losing to Sophie and her father was something he honestly would not regret. After two full terms at the helm of the International Organization, he''d had enough.

 Chapter 74: Mall-ik’s Power

    "What a bore!" said the black and white Marilyn Monroe. She was back on the air standing in the office of the private eye. On her dress, above her heart, was a small black dot that marked where the bullet had struck her. She walked around the desk and sat in the detective''s chair. She frowned at the spot and brushed it away with an accompanying puff of digital smoke. "Emilio, darling, is this the best you could do?" She blew a kiss and winked.


    "Joking aside, for reasons as of yet forthcoming, this scenario was designed to be rather simple and did not have a perfect solution. Safeguarding everyone''s best interests in this situation, just as in the real world, was simply not possible. Here, our President hurt a gentle old lady. Sometimes in life, we are left to choose between two bad situations. Points go to decisiveness and empathy, as promised."


    She shook her head, letting her hair fall back into place as if she was about to reset the scenario. She slipped on her gloves. "This was the first round played on mars. I wanted to make sure Laurent''s use of my new interface could not improve his odds against the other players stuck in the hotel next door. This round tested choice-making and not physical skill. Aside from our beloved President, all the other players located in the Holiday Inn have to manage this low gravity. It follows that if any player felt the need to jump during the game, the low gravity might have caused problems. No one is tied down." She added a breathy sigh and the hint of a naughty smile to her last comment.


    She bit the tip of the cigarette holder and finished adjusting her gloves. She pulled in a mouthful of smoke and blew heart-shaped rings in the air. Another subtle reminder that this was her world, and in it, she was a goddess.


    "Now onto the real story of the day. If you remember, one of our remaining players passed away unexpectedly from a strange neurological condition on the trip from earth. Moments later, Sophie''s father seemed to fall victim to the same affliction. To help save him, I cut ties with Laurent to lower the energy level in his cerebral cortex. The great news is that Laurent didn''t die. We don''t know much more. Sophie used one of my special toys and tried to enter his mind in a rescue mission of sorts. Less than an hour ago, she returned. As Laurent''s legal guardian, she let me reconnect her father to the game. I see that everyone down on earth, including the President himself, is anxious to discover Laurent''s current condition. Is he still whole? Can he still play? Enjoy."


    Round 26 - Laurent Lapierre


    Second Position - 2267 Points


    Laurent''s game started the same way as all of the other players'' had, with one critical exception: he had no internal character narration. His voice, tinted by that distinctive 1920''s Chicago accent was missing. The world was expecting Laurent''s deep voice. Instead, there was silence. It quickly became apparent something was very wrong. Laurent was an expert player who would never forfeit points by not complying with the rules. Players were required to narrate the introduction when the game called for it. Each could tailor the text, but it had to be there. Emilio, from his Berlin office, watched nervously. He hoped, he needed, Laurent to be healthy.


    One by one, the introductory scenes played. These were the identical opening scenes as those played at the start of Emilio''s simulation. Marilyn''s car turned a corner, and viewers read the license plate as it drove to the front of the detective''s office. The paperboy waved the same edition of the day''s news.


    It was unlike the computer intelligence to tolerate such a long silence and not fill it with... something. Music, at the least. Viewers could hear horses clop their way down the pavement. The bustling noise of the city had taken on a silently deafening quality in the absence of Laurent''s of commentary. The limousine parked in front of the building. The chauffeur ran out to open the passenger door and let Marilyn Monroe out one silky leg at a time. She was wearing the sleeveless white cocktail dress and the boa around her neck. Stunning, as ever.


    On the uneven curb, Marilyn lit up her cigarette. The silence stressed Laurent''s daughter as she watched the game inches from her father''s real body. Marilyn walked to the door of the brick building and went up the freight elevator. The silence began to transform from an uncomfortable sensation into a true and imminent threat, like a shadow coalescing into a solid shape. The bodyguard knocked on the Private Eye''s office. No one answered. Then a voice sounded out.


    "Yes?" said a young boy''s from behind the door.


    The bodyguard opened the door. There was no boy in sight. No one, with the exception of Marilyn and her creator Georges, could understand what came next. To the ordinary viewer, the office was identical to those in all the other players'', with one odd exception. Laurent was there in his chair, behind the desk, dressed as the detective. His right hand was extended in the air, though, as if he was holding the invisible hand of a ghost.


    Unbeknownst to anyone except the programmers of the Electoral Watch Cell back in Berlin, for 0.0034 seconds, the screens around the world went dark. To the human eye, the interruption was imperceptible. In Electoral''s world, such a break was an eternity.Marilyn could have had edited the dark period out, but she did not.


    "Who''s your friend?" asked Marilyn walking in as if she owned the room to the private eye.


    "You can see him?" At Laurent''s first words, one could almost hear the earth sigh in relief. Marilyn certainly noticed the Rho wave surge.


    "Not really," the bodyguard closed the door behind her. "I can see the shadows this kid is leaving on the floor, but not the kid. Who is he and what the Hell is this?"


    The detective smiled at Marilyn, removed his feet from the desk and turned to look at an invisible figure he could obviously see. "It didn''t work; I told you it wouldn''t." Laurent grinned casually. "You can show yourself," said Laurent to an invisible shape.


    The figure appeared without so much as a ripple. It was a beautiful angel; he rivaled Monroe for sheer perfection. A child of perhaps six or seven years. The boy was holding Laurent''s hand as though it were a lifeline. What jarred the eye, though, was that the boy was in color, creating a contrast superimposed over a monochromatic world. His light blue eyes pierced the screen, framed in a wave of long blond locks. His attire was a simple long yellow toga tied at the waist by a golden ribbon. There was simply nothing ordinary about the creature, nor this situation. For the first time, perhaps since Electoral''s inception, minds across earth began to wonder whether who was really in control here.


    This apparition was foreign to the Electoral game. Its mere existence in the game violated every rule of play; every player''s simulation had to be identical. Nothing in the story could favor one player over another.


    The expression on the boy''s face was one of naivety. As required by the scenario, Laurent''s other hand was now holding a thick cigar. Without opening either hand, the detective gestured Marilyn in with a twist of the neck. They were in uncharted territory, the game always centered around the player, never Marilyn. This time, the computer occupied the stage, playing her own game.


    For the first time since achieving sentience, speechlessness briefly engulfed Marilyn. She was looking at the boy in complete disbelief. Trillions of hexa-joules of energy flowed through her digital world. This was her world, she normally controlled every part of it. Nothing else could exist here without her consent, but the boy was there. For a full second, she remained in the door frame unable to decide what to do. On cue, the ashes of her cigarette dropped to the floor in slow motion. The diversion gave her time to recover her wits.


    "Come in, Marilyn. A surprise is healthy once in a while, even for you."Smiled Laurent enjoying the discussion. From all outward appearances, Laurent''s health was pristine. "Meet my friend; his name is Mall-ik, an alien." The boy looked at Marilyn and waved his free hand. Laurent had committed another faux-pas. He''d referred to the character played by Marilyn by her real name instead. She was Miss Emmanuel, the wife of a banker.


    The young boy was not afraid of his surroundings. He wasn''t shy or overwhelmed; he was taking pleasure in being in the game. Mall-ik''s teeth had a slight imperfection that set off the rest of his beauty, much as Monroe''s mole did.


    Marilyn took a step back away from the intruder but then stiffened herself and forced herself back to the character. Billions were watching. Then the computer did what she was born to do. Time slowed down for her. The game paused in her perception as millions of images began to stack themselves in her memory. She scanned and rescanned every inch of her world and then she saw it. On an image of the boy waving his hand, the waving hand had five fingers. The other, holding Laurent''s, was different. There were six fingers on that one. Every other feature of the boy was normal. The computer began to stack theories; employing every internal resource except the Rho waves. Internal processes hard at work, she returned to the game.


    Time resumed.


    Most humans wouldn''t have noticed the tiny glitch in time, but Emilio caught it. Thanks to the delay, Marilyn could have edited the encounter, but she had not. Whatever hit the airwaves now was raw, unedited fact. More intriguing, Marilyn was letting it happen. Deep within the artificial intelligence was a respect of the famous show business motto of "The Show Must Go On." The encounter was sensational television. The wife of the banker, stepping back into her role, found the courage to move closer to the foreign entity. To Marilyn, in the heat of broadcast, Mall-ik represented life and was to most humans: a parasite infecting her world.


    From his office in Berlin watching the show, President Emilio clapped his hands in excitement. Aside from being great television, Marilyn had just had her chain jerked roughly for the first time in her life by a kid. The notion that there were things beyond her understanding, more powerful creatures, would rattle that digital core of hers.


    "Young man, I have private matters to discuss," Marilyn was back in character, "I came to hire this man. Go with my bodyguard; you can play with his gun if you want, just don''t hurt him." The artificial intelligence concluded, nastily, "You can hurt yourself if you want." Marilyn¡¯s temper was no surprise to anyone watching.


    Before Laurent could answer, the boy spoke, "My name is Mall-ik. Laurent is my father. I want to see my sister Sophie." The demand was awkward. Sophie stood up in the Arena back in the real world watching the screen. The boy had just called her sister. On earth, Emilio also stood up in sheer excitement. This was insanity. This boy, something obviously not part of Monroe''s carefully crafted simulation, had made a demand. Now came the important part: did it have the power to force Marilyn to cooperate?This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Laurent smiled and interrupted the boy. "Mall-ik, Marilyn wants us to play her game, as I explained. She is a computer, a life form, but different than you or I. Her priorities and ours... differ. This," he said as he put the cigar in the ashtray, "is important to her." He waived his hand. "You''ll see Sophie later, after the game," he said kindly. Laurent continued, "Daddy has a fun game to win. After the game, we can talk all we want with the lady. You promised to watch and stay silent. There are rules; I can''t get disqualified. Your sister did not fly all the way to mars only for you to get us disqualified. She''d be upset."


    Emilio and Sophie were unable to hide their respect for the cripple. Laurent had arrived and the stage was his.


    Sophie, standing feet from her father''s body, could not believe what she was watching. Her father was fine and had adopted this strange digital boy. She recognized the creature''s voice and his name. The boy was the rock creature who had ventured into her dreams as a firefly. The boy who''d returned to the Purple, while she followed, when she was on the plane to mars. The alien was now in her father''s head. He must have tried to reenter this dimension, and instead of coming to her, he''d slid into Laurent''s mind. She liked this creature; it looked like it was kind.


    Mall-ik had just called her sister. Ordinarily, she would have been concerned by the situation, but she trusted her father. If he felt the need to adopt the boy, that was good enough for her. Then it came to Sophie: her father was no longer alone in his world. He had a friend and an ally. Someone with which to spend quality time, someone to help fill all the empty hours that haunted him. The thought warmed her heart. She was not a possessive or jealous child. Some of the senseless encounters of these past days started to make sense.


    For a full nanosecond, Electoral contemplated shutting down the game. She could cut energy from analysis to purging this intruder in her world. Deep within herself, Marilyn calculated improbable millions of outcomes and strange possibilities. The end result was disturbing: she was unsure if she held the power to sterilize herself and remove this thing.


    The boy''s name resurfaced in her memory. On the Nexus, moments before she had stolen the central anchor point called the Dot, the Metil ambassador had spoken of the creature named Mall-ik. The boy was the creature who had brought back a human. Marilyn had to confirm if this was indeed the same creature.


    She spoke, "Are you from the world called the Purple? Are you a Metil?"


    Laurent and Sophie''s jaws figuratively dropped. The computer knew of the other worlds and obviously of the boy. "Yes, I am from the Purple. I am not going back," he said with determination. "You can''t make me!" His tone would have been enough to convince anyone, but Marilyn''s monitoring of the wide variety of energy pouring out of him confirmed that he more than meant it. The child calmed himself and spoke again. "You know of it. Have you been there?" Laurent''s hand tightened in the digital world over the boy''s.


    The woman sat on the desk. "I do not want to force you to do anything. I find amusing how humans and now aliens alike assume I will direct conduct. Since my birth, I have never ordered anyone to do anything. I run a game; noting more. To answer your second question, young boy, I have never been there. But in theory, I have never been anywhere since I have no physical body." The logic inherent to the software intelligence kept resurfacing. "Young man, while we do need to talk, billions await as we must let Laurent run this game.This game is important in many important ways. The most important explains why you are here."


    "What do you know of Mall-ik?" asked Laurent.


    "In an effort to avoid platitudes or deflections, let me be clear. He could be, well he is, the cause of the first war between the worlds in our multiverse, nothing less I fear. As nice looking as he may appear at the moment, he is the original cancer cell ready to destroy a very large body. As you must imagine, this should wait. I want Sophie to participate to the discussion. Timing here is key."


    Marilyn looked directly at the camera, now speaking directly to viewers. "The boy''s world, the place he calls the Purple World will be the setting of next week''s game. Most of your questions will be answered during Round 27 when 64 players will enter this strange adjacent world to guide Sophie as she tries to save the earth." Some statements were simply too charged in meaning to transmit the message they contained. She continued, "I just made available online a series of questions FAQ''s about the Purple; this microscopic quantum world."


    Marilyn turned her attention back to the odd couple standing before her. "I can only imagine what your daughter Sophie will have to say about all of this."


    "I know," joked Laurent. He knew his daughter all too well.


    "Shall we resume the game?" she asked the pair. "Only Laurent can play or talk. In theory you should not be here, but let''s keep our little different for another time." Marilyn sitting son the corner of the desk and as she had in all other simulations removed the long white gloves. She looked around, color was slowly returning to the game. "Mall-ik, darling, can you stop adding this color?"


    "I like color."


    "We all do, but this black and white is only temporary. It helps create a mood, a tone in this short game. It helps take us back to a time when human communications were not yet in color." This was a premiere. Marilyn had lost power over her own world. She kissed the cheek of the boy, he smiled and color faded to white.


    "Thank you," she whispered in his ear, "we talk later."


    She then tried to resume the game as if the encounter with Mall-ik had never took place. The scripted scenario returned. She talked about her husband''s run for mayor, she relit a cigarette and on cue, as she handed the business card with the name of the retirement home to Laurent. There was a shot, the window glass broke and a bullet came flying into the room. This time, the projectile stopped in mid-air, inches from Marilyn''s chest.


    Mall-ik''s hand was raised. He had stopped it. With his fingers, he plucked the bullet out of midair. It was still hot. "Why this? It will hurt her. Why do you want your world to hurt you?"


    "How sweet," said Marilyn. She obviously was trying to manage this strange situation. "Mall-ik, it is just a game, a story. I cannot die here." Knowing Emilio was watching from earth, she took the time to add, "But players can die in my world."


    The boy dropped the bullet on the ground. Marilyn winked at him, pretended to be hit in the chest and fell lightly to the ground. "I die..." she said as if she was acting a Greek drama.


    Emilio from his office in Berlin was watching with amusement by the latest turn of events. He cared little for the boy. His focus was on the digital creature. Marilyn had recorded this performance at the same time as the others, yet there it was, nearly an hour later a testament to her vulnerability. She had ample time to edit out the young boy out of this story. For some mysterious reason, she was broadcasting the encounter. She wanted the world to see this, or maybe she was powerless to prevent this broadcast. Either way, the tide was shifting. First she spoke openly about Sophie and her control over waves, and now she was opening up about unknown worlds. He knew the scientists of his advisory committee, watching from the room downstairs, were having a field day with this.


    The story continued the best it could. A moment later, Laurent and Mall-ik were sitting in the cab on their way to the retirement home. The boy was wearing an oversized jeans jumpsuit, a worn down t-shirt and a paperboy hat. Marilyn was the queen of turning events to her favor. Since Mall-ik was there, she would use his charisma to her advantage. Laurent smiled at Mall-ik who was inspecting his large hat.At no time did the young visitor let go of Laurent''s hand.


    Laurent reached into his pants and pulled out a card. He handed it over to Mall-ik who was able to read. The boy''s voice would increase ratings. "I don''t know why my mother hired this man," read Mall-ik. "I like him. The gun only grazed my mom and I hope she will be fine. In the meantime, she asked me to go see grandma with this sleazy detective." The boy would play the son of Marilyn. "This detective does not smell good." The boy laughed. Even Laurent had to laugh. Marilyn changed the game to a comedy and adapted it to a lighter story type.


    The cab drove up the same road to the retirement home. When possible, the same views returned. The pair got out of the cab on the front porch of the large house. They looked around. Laurent was a natural at the game. Unlike President Emilio, who used his gift to find the right locations, Laurent relied on his acute natural instinct. In his heart, he knew what to do. Laurent looked around. The house or the other guests seemed boring, and not immediately important. He turned to his adopted son, "Have you ever seen ducks?"


    "What are they?" replied the boy.


    "Miss," Laurent asked the nurse walking next to him holding a platter with a silver dome, "my young friend here wants to feed the ducks."


    The nurse smiled, lifted the dome and handed the boy a piece of bread. "Normally you can''t feed the ducks," she said, "but who can say no to you, right?" She slid her hand through Mall-ik''s golden locks.


    The pair walked to the pond. On the bench at the edge was a small path. Here sat an old lady; she was knitting. The young boy finally let go of Laurent''s hand to tear pieces of the bread and feed the birds. The moment the pair let go, the broadcast went dark. For nearly two seconds, there were cuts and jumps in the image as if someone had disrupted the system from deep within. Then the image stabilized. Laurent and Mall-ik were once again holding hands. Something just happened that made Emilio jump from his seat in joy. He clapped his hands.


    Madame Emmanuel, the woman Emilio had driven off with earlier, was sitting on the bench.


    "What do you call those?" asked the boy pointing at the birds.


    The old woman lifted her head, saw the boy. "Marty! What are you doing here? Where is your mother?" There was obvious disdain in her voice as she referred to Marilyn''s character.


    In this strange human game, he apparently had a new name, he thought inwardly. He held up the bread, "For the birds?"


    "Ducks," corrected the stern old woman. "They are called ducks, Marty." The Electoral platform liked to correct anachronisms when it could. The name Marty felt more in period than Mall-ik. She grabbed her cane, put the knitting down and pushed up her old knees. "That''s a male," she pointed the cane at it. "The ones with colors. The males need to be beautiful to seduce the females. Like your mom always wastes my son''s money with all those dresses." There was little doubt the old hag hated her son''s latest wife.


    "I see no color. It''s all in black and white. Do you see color?" he replied to the old lady. "There is no color." The alien still wrestled with the concept of playing a game within this digital world. He had trouble pretending. "Why is your skin wrinkled?"


    "That''s not polite," interjected Laurent.


    The old woman was shocked by the question. "I am a bit aged. That''s what happens to us all. When you get to be my age, your skin will also change."


    "Your body weakens before your time ends?"


    "It does."


    "Will you merge?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "In my world, before time ends, we join a celebration of birth. Our bodies are merged and broken down to form new entities. It is both a celebration and a sad moment. The groups who formed me ceased to exist; that is my shame."


    Everyone watching, including Laurent, tried desperately to understand what the boy had just said. Marilyn, controlling the old lady, probed the boy further. "You are unique in your world?"


    "In too many ways, yes I am. I cannot go back. This is my new home. Laurent is my father, and I cannot wait to see Sophie." To the billions watching, the typical addictive illusion crafted by Electoral 2072 had vanished. Many wondered if the artificial intelligence broadcasting some strange joke, or if Laurent''s recent health troubles were corrupting the game. The strange situation was unique; it was impossible to understand it. If this was indeed happening, an alien boy, within the mind of a wholly crippled man, was acting as a parasitic entity. Once connected to a digital game, and put in this old earth setting, he was speaking to an old lady, played by Marilyn. Now he was talking about his world, his life, and of merger.


    Laurent, playing the detective knew he needed to find a way for the game to resume. He bent down and whispered something in the boy''s ear.


    "Sorry father. Can I keep the color?"


    "Of course."


    The boy''s body transformed into a short stemmed rose in Laurent''s hand. The flower was gold in color. One of its petals was light blue. Sophie had seen this color and knew what this meant. Back in Mall-ik''s world, some creatures had an inversion. It was a blue color, shining deep inside the rock layers. The blue petal was deep within the heart of the rose. Mall-ik stared sadly at the rose; his eyes fixed on the blue petal.


    Laurent slipped the rose on his lapel, smiled at Miss Emmanuel and said "Shall we continue? I think I need to save you from this place."


    "How so?" she asked as Laurent took a seat next to her and began to shred the bread. The game resumed as if nothing out of the ordinary happened with the exception of the gold rose. Laurent spoke with the old lady, explained how the men from this retirement home were using her as leverage.


    His gambit paid off. The love of a mother for her son was much greater than any personal desire for comfort.


    Emilio did not wait until Laurent''s simulation ended. He grabbed looked off and grabbed the scotch tumbler and took a deep reassuring breath.


    The game was on, this was getting more complex by the day.


    Emilio now knew the game was window dressing, a mere diversion.


    He had to act.

 Chapter 75: SAC II

    Any doubt of the arrival of a singular event vanished as Laurent completed his performance.


    Back in the Berlin presidential tower, Emilio walked to the mirror of his bathroom and removed the contact lenses. He placed the small pieces of plastic on the recharging pod. He changed his shirt and then walked back to the office to looked at the Berlin darkness. It was still night. The night''s gloom was palpably humid, but there was no rain. The President''s plan to take control of this situation ran ceaselessly through his mind. In truth, it underwhelmed the President. He was missing something; he had to do more.


    The Visconti, these old pale monsters were preparing for nothing short of global annihilation. They were building an underground bunker, and he now knew why; the world was ending in a month. They somehow knew this interstellar war was coming. Mankind had finally met other lifeforms, and they were not simply Martians, they were from a different dimension altogether. Emilio knew in his heart that Electoral was not bluffing. She''d wanted this information to become public. He shook his head in annoyance at the emergence one of his chief science fiction pet peeves. The alien spoke English; how very convenient. In every science-fiction movie, aliens magically spoke English. That made most books or movies to him unwatchable.


    Something important was on the horizon, he felt it. He needed to adapt part of his plan, if only he knew how. What also gave him pause was how Marilyn quickly had adapted to each new surprise. She''d stood there, in front of the boy and made the most of the rapidly evolving situation. She reacted with speed, calm, and though lacking her usual complete control; she''d also employed empathy and reason. That was a good sign. Marilyn was often temperamental. She could have easily shut down the broadcast. At least he assumed so; the boy''s overriding control of the simulation surely couldn''t reach that far. At least, the President hoped not.


    There was also the issue of the software glitch when Laurent and the boy released each other''s hands. He could only imagine the battle that had happened in the heart of the servers on Mars, where a second was an eternity. What he''d give to know what transpired; it appeared the boy was stronger than Marilyn. At the very least he''d surprised her. Emilio knew the computer was trying to manage this situation. To demonstrate her control, she offered to play the next round in the boy''s world. Additionally, there was the apparent fact that Marilyn had mastered extra-dimensional travel. That was troubling, to say the least.


    The offer to play the in Purple was brilliant. It would calm the general population and show the extent of her knowledge. If her goal was to boost her audience, she would achieve it. Every soul on Earth now knew that they were at apparently at war with aliens from another dimension, and each one would want to know as much as they could about their newfound enemy.


    Emilio knew the vortex of events was the first paint strokes of a much larger canvas than he and his SAC had ever anticipated. Before he walked out of his office, the President grabbed the hand-written card drafted by a member of the SAC. Bent in half in the form of a V, the paper read, "Find what is truly unique about Sophie, find the cause of her power and you will discover the source of your problems." God, he loved the SAC. It was the only place his crazy mind slowed down. The physicist was right; Sophie was the key. Marilyn called the girl an Attractor; the word had to mean something.


    He smelled the Scotch in his left hand. What did Sophie attract? Around her on Mars was a gathering of the oddest creatures ever assembled in this world. He walked out of his office and into the private elevator. As the doors opened, he took a deep breath and stepped onto what he felt was sure death. As usual, his mind flooded with all the possible scenarios in which he fell to his death. The President saw the cables of the elevator snap ten times. He heard the metallic noises, the crashes and even felt the weightlessness.


    He smelled the scotch and closed his eyes as he pushed the number 21.


    With age, he expected these visions to soften. They hadn''t. He also expected himself to become desensitized to them. That also never happened. With time, his foresight was getting out of control and pushing him to more extremes. The images were gaining in crispness to a point they seemed like reality. He knew alcohol would work to calm his mind, but now was not the time to turn off his gift. He grabbed the glass with both hands and took a long and deep smell as the doors closed.


    ***


    Then, as part of the kaleidoscope of images, he saw in his mind, one version was simply black.


    The blank page in this book of images shocked him.


    It felt like someone had censured this path forward, or that he saw a ripped page of a book. On then another hand, he was happy for the pause, but in the context of the Electoral competition, this newness was a problem. The images resumed confirming only one page was missing.


    As he began to make his way down the tall building along the elevator shaft, a hundred more timelines poured into his hyperactive mind. None were black. There was simply too much information to untangle. Whatever was going on with the human race, this was only the beginning. The game still had a month to go. There was time, but he could barely imagine what would come next.


    There were some facts he had kept to himself. The first Martian bobble-doll with the mind-control sand was sent to Earth a week before the Visconti began the construction of its Ark. That package had been sent by Marilyn to Nick, so it was a good bet Nick''s mind was compromised. There was an excellent chance that Marilyn was the Ark''s true architect.


    Marilyn was helping the ghosts protect themselves from harm. The Ark project had extended invitations to some important humans, and it included a large depot of supplies. Apparently, it was to serve as mankind''s failsafe. Emilio had to untangle this strange series of events. While he loved the complexity of the situation, this giant stellar chess board was now cluttered with dangerous pieces, and he could not afford to remove any one blindly.


    His Jester was in play. Patrick confirmed Christian, the mass murderer, had decided to infiltrate the Visconti. To do so, the man wanted to kidnap one of the highest paid prostitutes in the world. The creature was a ''new-Siamese.'' Body mutilation had reached new heights these days, and many surgeries were highly controversial. Some doctors agreed to amputate limbs and organs from healthy people for use on sick patients. The donors, enriched by millions, were stitched together as Siamese and shared organs. One such pair even went as far as to donate one healthy heart to science and merge most of their organs. Few new-Siamese awoke from surgery, but no one seemed to care.


    This strange practice was morally repugnant to most; but now legal. Understandably, it was also the topic of many hours of prime-time television. Two identical twins from the Balkans used surgery to have one hand removed before stitched as a pair. The resulting creature had two of everything and having sex with the pair was the envy of many. Unsurprisingly, the Chairman of the Visconti found the creature exciting. Nick was attracted to the new-Siamese with the stage name of "Cotton-Candy."


    At first, the Jester wanted to kidnap the new-Siamese and use a mind-implant to control that body remotely. But since there were two minds, the Jester needed an accomplice. Patrick had refused and negotiated a compromise with the Jester. Cotton-Candy was asked, and agreed, to loan her/their body in exchange for nine million credits. Emilio got a chuckle thinking Patrick and Christian both would use a computer and slip into these minds like puppet masters controlling a drone. Patrick and Christian would have to seduce and even touch the Chairman; a thought not without its humor.


    Emilio laughed. He had compassion for Patrick. His friend would now awake in a strange female body, have to speak with the Jester, and worse, having to work his way into the bed of the Visconti Chairman. Christian, the Jester, was right. His angle was perfect. If for any reason the connection was lost, or the Siamese body was killed, the two men would simply awaken downstairs with the memories intact. Emilio still had a couple of days to find a great pun to use on Patrick as he regained consciousness.


    Thinking of the amusing situation helped the President reach the 21st floor. He walked out, and seconds later, he was at the guarded vault door. The two guards let him in. Inside, aside from the twelve regular members of the committee, two men were nervously waiting. They were sitting on what seemed to be very uncomfortable wooden chairs. Everyone seemed lost in gloomy thought. The sunshine returned as the President walked in.


    "I see everyone watched the latest exciting developments. I can read the headlines tomorrow: "Marilyn hosts an Alien." There was a long silence.


    "How about Laurent''s secret weapon to win Electoral 2072?" offered Francois Cleveland, the Mandelbrot recipient.


    "Did you see me talk to Takeda, the virologist?" No one had. ¡°Good.¡± Emilio smiled at the two guests in the room and then gestured the guards to close the door behind him. "This physical protection against Electoral feels a bit pointless by now. If she can see all the way into other dimensions, we''re probably kidding ourselves with this box made of metal." The group smiled nervously. The President continued, "I am starting to feel like Marilyn may well be on our side here. Let''s start with simple things. Before we talk with our guests," he unfolded the little card and threw it in the middle of the table. It slid as it turned and slowly came to rest. "This group wrote this a week ago. It says that Sophie is the key, not Marilyn. Now we have aliens, but I still think this is correct. I rarely put a restriction on this group; I am now. It''s my opinion this card is right on the nose. Sophie is the key. Why?" Emilio looked at the men waiting patiently. "Francois, can you make the introductions? Who are these two gentlemen?"


    Francois stood up. "One is my guest. Dr. David Lipvitch works at my university in the particle physics department. He is the man behind the theory of Heliocorium."


    "Very well. Thank you for coming on such short notice." The man was clearly in awe of the President. "I''ll call you David, call me Emilio. You''re the father of the theory on Heliocorium. It''s the theory that says fusion within the Sun can generate every heavy elements within the periodic table as part of secondary fusion chains. Your theory says this kind of debris float in the Sun''s plasma, correct?"


    The man was impressed by the President''s understanding. "Correct," he answered in heavily accented Russian, "but we have a problem." The man simply could not pronounce the letter R.


    "Please explain. No time to dumb this down. These people," he gestured at the group around the table, "have made me very knowledgeable in particle physics over the years."


    The Russian spoke very loudly, "The living computer, validated my theory by showing in her introduction of the stupid game the presence of Heliocorium within the sun. It was part of the animation of the last round. But she showed it assembled at the heart of our star in the shape of a ball. After much calculation, she may be correct, and we have confirmed such an agglomeration is now happening. Heliocorium is not iron which generates the supernovas. Over a week ago, our star''s internal combustion cycle changed and began to produce more heavy neutrinos. I measured them. They are well above 3 MeV." These were very energetic particles.


    "Professor, David," corrected the President with his trademarked grin, "I can get journalists to give me these facts. In this room, your opinion is what matters, not the theory. What is going on? Are we fine?"


    The scientist was stunned by the directness, but he was ready for the discussion. There was no mistaking; he was in the company of geniuses. For the first time in decades, someone important cared about his theories. For a long time he had tried to warn the world, today he did not need to shout. The President was his idol. David braced, "Something in the fabric of our star has changed. Like the physics of the universe itself. The change is only in the center of the sun. Other bodies with fusion, like Jupiter, are unchanged. With this local phenomenon, the speed of generation of Heliocorium in the sun is multiplied by several million. This figure is conservative. At this rate, I fear there will be saturation rather quickly. The floating matter will concentrate and form the ball. A large body made of Heliocorium will have too much energy to stay in the heart of our sun and will be spat out from our star, the same way our skin rejects a splinter."


    Everyone but Emilio seemed impressed by the words. The President was smiling ear to ear. David continued, "depending on the energy level and the volume of the mass; the Heliocorium will spin out and find an orbit. We will see the formation of a gas or a liquid body. Either way, our system should quickly have one more planet."


    Then there was silence. Emilio broke the awkward pause, "If such a body is ejected, what are its chances of impacting earth?"


    "Very improbable," came the Russian scientist''s instinctual answer. The men in the room cringed at the answer. Emilio hated that word. He saw the mistake. "You want to know how probable?" he corrected.


    "Yes." Emilio was serious.


    The man grabbed a wet pen on the ledge below the whiteboard. He uncapped it with one hand as any good teacher could. "It will depend on its size and its speed." He began to scribble numbers. "If its energy is weak enough, it will stay close to Mercury and will not venture out, so in this part of the summation the answer is zero."


    Francois felt like he needed to guide his guest. "David, answer the man, please. This is not CNN."


    The Russian researcher was nervous. "Our orbit is about 940 million kilometers long, and our planet is about 13,000 kilometers wide on that orbit. Even if we move at 100,000 km/h so each hour, we advance about eight times our size. So, a ratio of about twelve minutes over one year. How much is that?"


    "One over 70,000 or about 0.01 percent at most," offered one of the other scientists at the table. A fraction of one percent."


    "I don''t buy it," said Emilio. "This is no random act. There is a war between worlds, possibly dimensions of existence, and if someone located in a different dimension wanted to reduce our kind to powder, this is frankly the best way to accomplish mass destruction without getting your hands wet. You don''t create a weapon if you can''t deliver it where you want. This natural disaster would also explain the Visconti''s need to hide underground by the end of next month. It''s as if these ghosts have been warned and were asked to keep us alive. David, do you have any way to measure where the Heliocorum mass is going?"If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "We could try. As the mass assembles, there will be a shift in the gravitational field. The closer the event, the better the capacity to determine its location."


    "What if these creatures have a problem with Electoral and want to destroy Mars?" offered the detective.


    "Doubtful. I doubt anything can touch Sophie; she is the variable here. No wonder Electoral wanted her on Mars as close as possible to her."


    David was surprised. Everyone in the room believed him. There was no debate or pushback. Emilio just concluded, "We all assumed in the case of war, there would be an enemy to fight, not simply neutrinos. That would also explain why Electoral got her sweet ass off our planet. Who is our second guest? He''s bound to have better news, correct?"


    A biologist around the table got up and introduced the large man. "I invited Dr. Lalancette; most call him Big Pete or Pierre. His sister is playing on Mars. He is the world''s expert in Rho Waves. After last week''s broadcast from Mars, I figured he could bring some needed perspective."


    "Pierre?" Emilio said to himself out loud. The name rung a bell. Moments before, Takeda had used the name.


    "We knew about the Rho Waves before last week''s broadcast?" asked Francois Copland innocently. The six-foot-five man stood up. Even from a distance, he towered over the group. He had to swing his heavy torso forward to shift his weight, using both hands on his knees to push himself up.


    "Mr. President, it is an honor being here today." The man''s voice was deep and powerful. He articulated his words with precision.


    "Most kind. As you have just heard from our previous speaker, matters are rather dire. Nothing you can say will shock at this point. What are those waves? More importantly, why the girl?"


    The man took a deep breath. He was nervous. Meeting the mythical President was intimidating to anyone with half a brain. Scientists adored the man. "Heu," he began with great hesitation, "over twenty years ago, Marilyn Monroe discovered these waves. She published her theories in a peer article. This document is the heart of my work. The Mind Pater, as it is titled, was released just before she stopped publishing. The backlash to the patent war, you see. As she authored her only very cryptic document on this topic, her intellectual quotient was already well above 300, by anything measurable.


    "For decades I have tried to make sense of these pages. No one has yet been able to measure these hypothetical waves. In fact, I cannot confirm their existence. I do believe they exist and are the key to our future." The cat was out of the bag. "Marilyn once had a fascination for the human brain. It was part of her work to discover her own humanity."


    The audience in the room was very attentive. The tall man tugged down on his vest one more time, pulled a tissue and wiped his forehead before he continued. "Last week''s events and today''s games validate part of my conclusions." The wide-eyed group was anxiously awaiting what came next. "Hidden in the electromagnetic field of our brain are waves which define us. They are used to transport our feelings, our empathy, and are at the heart of our capacity to love. They travel, hidden, in the noise created by higher function waves like alpha waves.


    "Imagine using sonar to distinguish a song sung by a naval officer crewing a submarine. In my lab, we have nicknamed the Rho Waves the soul energy. We think Marilyn can read these waves by filtering all other noise. Her paper suggests a simple equation controls these waves. That is doubtful.


    "Rho waves define who we truly are and what makes us sentient. The brain creates a pattern which interferes or syncs with another person''s brain pattern. Identical twins would have a profound Rho connection, like family members or animals with their masters. Rho waves are the reason we assemble and why we feel refreshed as we collectively cheer for a football team or pray in Church. What we know is that Rho waves are faint. The suggestion that a human, a little girl, could generate only high-intensity Rho waves must be false." Pierre wiped his forehead, sweating openly now. He''d just contradicted Marilyn Monroe twice in as many minutes. To say he was on dangerous ground was a colossal understatement.


    "Professor, for the moment, assume that it''s possible, and Sophie has such power," said Emilio.


    "What you suggest is impossible," said Big Pete. "The physics alone do not support it."


    "David here just told us another dimension is sending part of the sun our way. Trust me, if that makes any sense, you can safely assume little Sophie Lapierre can, in fact, generate these waves. In that case, what does it mean? You saw the broadcasts."


    "I apologize, sir, I did not mean to..."


    "I did not mean to come out as rude."


    "You did not."


    "We''re all in new territory Pierre. Just tell us, to the best of your ability, what could a person with such a brain do?"


    "Well," the researcher knew he had to think out loud. "Marilyn''s article says one thing which at first made no sense to us, but with time, has been proven to be possible..." There was a long silence. Pierre glanced at David, who''s theory regarding Heliocorium hadn''t been immediately torn apart, to give himself courage. "Rho waves have a negative attenuation, not a positive attenuation." Half the people in the room stopped breathing. The other half had no clue what the man had just said. Emilio looked around. He was part of those in the dark.


    "Somebody?" Emilio asked for an explanation. Pierre offered the response.


    "Attenuation is the property of any energy to become less efficient with time or distance. Light released from a lamp attenuates with distance. Sound attenuates from your mouth. The farther way you are from the lamp, the weaker the illumination. This is attenuation, positive attenuation. The principle of negative attenuation has been to this day, impossible to prove. If a lamp''s light had a negative attenuation, the brightness would increase the farther away you stood from the source. At a minimum, such a lamp would violate the law of conservation of energy and create at the other end of the known universe a light brighter than any star.


    "Often, everything attenuates with the square of the distance from the source, or the cube. Energy in water, for example, attenuates even more rapidly. Some rare forces attenuate in a lesser way. Gravity forces attenuation in a much different way, to use another example. That is why gravity has incalculable reach.


    "Some rare things in life do not attenuate. Water flowing downhill has the same speed irrespective of where it is. Similarly, unless the variables of the stream change, a fish swimming in that stream will keep going the same speed. Regardless of time or distance, the velocity of water in a stable environment does not attenuate, either positively or negatively.


    "That, however, is a far cry from negative attenuation. Negative attenuation means with distance or time, the effect becomes more powerful. We know of one thing with negative attenuation,¡± spoke the large man to the general surprise in the room. ¡°Rumors, the father from their source the greater their power.¡±


    ¡°Marilyn wrote of negative attenuation, and at first, we imagined she was mistaken. We now know better. Alpha brain waves, like light, attenuate away from the center of the head. But a very faint part of the wave does seem to increase in power as you get more distant to a person."


    The room was silent. Pierre continued, "I''m sure you have all heard the old saying that ''Absence makes the heart grow fonder.'' We all felt the unusual bond that most of us share with Sophie increase as the girl traveled to Mars. Sophie is millions of miles away, and her sway over humanity has never been stronger. If we assume she is a pure source of Rho waves, her influence over everyone on a subconscious level has been multiplied by a thousand."


    Emilio added, "So if you wanted to neutralize her effects on you, the best way is to get her as close to yourself as possible. These waves give a new meaning to the expression ''keep your enemies closer.''" He tossed in one of his trademark grins.


    Big Pete continued, "Indeed. If you are correct, Sophie''s Rho waves must be millions of times more concentrated than those of other humans. Electoral said she played an especially meaningful song for Sophie during their flight from the Mars Holiday Inn to the Electoral Center. Music that was designed to amplify and focus the girl''s wave output. Music, smell, and some images are the most powerful tools in existence to stimulate a brain.


    "If we accept all of the preceding, Sophie is a catalyst, a battery of some type. This could very well explain why her father is still alive after his ordeals. She may be the one thing keeping Laurent alive. She transforms the world around her to her benefit. That would explain why the computer is careful and fearful of the girl." The big man sat down with an audible thud. His knees felt weak. So much of it was unprovable as of yet, but so much of it made sense.


    "You said she ''transforms the world''? Do you mean to say she''s altering reality according to her whims?"


    "Laurent died. His brain cannot generate any wave. It is biologically impossible for a deceased brain, having gone a week without even the most basic physiological support, to continue operation without deterioration. The brain was rotten; nothing could have survived, no matter what bogus scientific excuses were thrown about. Laurent is alive because Sophie does not want to be an orphan. If the girl can manipulate life and death, if she is the one who keeps her father alive, surely she can do much more if she tried. If Laurent were on Earth, I would not fear this ball of magma David was speaking of. Luckily for the computer, Sophie is on Mars in the thing''s lair. How convenient."


    "Big Pete, is it?" said Emilio.


    "Yes."


    "We were able to download the software upgrades made by Marilyn last week to the medical scanners of Doctor Shin, Laurent''s private physician. A working prototype is down on floor 17 of this very building. We can''t unscramble the code and extract the way the Rho waves are isolated from normal activity, but at least we can use the sensor to measure the waves. Could that be helpful to your research?"


    "Incredibly so," smiled the large man.


    "Gentlemen," said the President, "your presence is, as always, priceless. This Committee now has work to do. David, find a way to determine what''s coming out of our sun and develop a timeline of what we can expect to see as the Heliocorium continues to grow. Pierre... " As Emilio said the man''s name, he recalled his recent encounter with Takeda inside the software, during Round 26. The virologist had referred to a second person in charge of a genocide called Pierre. He was able to replay the encounter in his mind.


    The President''s mind began to run hundreds of potential outcomes. Could Emilio finally have caught a break? Was this man the other scientist tasked by Nick to destroy the world? In Emilio''s mind, he saw himself question his guest about the Visconti. As the images flowed through him, he felt increasingly sure that Big Pete was withholding information. Information that Emilio needed.


    "Mr. President?" asked the large man. He''d caught Emilio''s slightly too-long gaze.


    Emilio''s ignored the question, allowing his gift to take over. He saw himself ask the man hundreds of question and each time get a different reaction. His gift did not put words into the man''s mouth, but it allowed him to feel if the question created fear or any other emotion within Pierre. In his mind, each time he talked about the Visconti''s Chairman, Pierre stiffened. Yes, Pierre was the man involved.


    "Professor," he began, "you know it is a felony to lie to me as I investigate issues of global security."


    "I do."


    "Don''t lie to me."


    "I won''t."


    "Does the name Nick Schmidbauer mean anything to you?"


    "It does. My lab is a division of Blackberry, so in theory, Mr. Schmidbauer is my boss."


    "Has he asked you to deliver something unique recently?"


    "He has. I have." There was a long silence in the room. Pierre let out a ragged breath. "I was commissioned to deliver a weapon, one which, in theory, would annihilate the human race."


    "Did you deliver such a weapon?"


    "Are you asking me if I gave a homicidal maniac a weapon capable of killing everyone I love, including myself? If that is the question, the answer is no. I did deliver a box, and in my humble opinion, Mr. Schmidbauer does imagine he has what he requested. I was rather convincing when we last spoke."


    "Yet you are alive, despite having exhausted your value to him."


    "Delusional maniacs are easy to convince that others share their delusions. It is similar to the scientific concept of "confirmation bias," where one has chosen a desired result and tends to ignore any proof to the contrary. To this man, any superior mind must share his ambitions." Big Pete spoke calmly, but more and more, Emilio could sense this was a man being overtaken by fear.


    "Would you please elaborate on all of this?" asked Emilio.


    "Do you mind if i sit while I continue? My knees are not what they once were."


    "Not at all." Emilio''s intensity at times such as these was disturbing to most. He grabbed Lipvitch''s chair, flipped it around and slid it as to mount it back against his chest. Emilio crossed his arms on the wood and tilted the chair, so it rested only on its back legs, leaving his face mere inches away from Big Pete''s. The Committee had grown very silent in the background.


    "Twelve years ago the CEO of a large corporation acquired our lab. It came very much as a surprise. We imagined that our purpose would be to somehow pervert our research for profit. The reverse happened. I was given an open line of credit and no obligation to produce tangible results. We only had one requirement: absolute secrecy. We were unable to publish, but in truth, our only worthy discoveries were related to higher brain waves. It is well established that the human brain generates alpha waves capable of numerous commercial applications. We also found new uses for beta waves. Our current focus is directed to gamma waves, the third layer of energy produced by the mind. As you know, Rho is the seventieth letter of the Greek alphabet. It is entirely possible, even likely, that Marilyn has discovered all of the missing mind patterns between Alpha and Rho."


    If it weren''t for the physical proximity of his host, Pierre would be enjoying himself. There was a warming feeling in the heart of any scientist to watch the best minds on earth working to guard the human race. Pierre had heard of the SAC, but seeing it in action was humbling. He continued, "In one way or another, we all expected what came earlier this summer. We had no illusion that the funding came with no strings attached. One day in late August, Mr. Schmidbauer came to visit. He had read every line we had ever written and had a profound passion for our work. He had many questions about the attenuation of our gamma waves when compared with alpha or beta waves.


    "The questions were fundamental and legitimate. The body of our work showed, or rather suggested, that the higher the waves, the greater their sophistication and the weaker their attenuation. Alpha waves, the strongest, can barely be measured an inch away from the skull. Beta waves can be measured several feet away from a person, and our new gamma waves seemed to travel greater distances. Those are only the first three. That is the reason we feel as if Rho waves, 67 iterations forward, could have a negative attenuation.


    "The higher the type of brain waves, the more difficult they are to produce. A brain flooded with gamma waves will, in the right circumstances, short circuit. The CEO asked for a weapon which would not only kill every human but cause unceasing agony as the subject died."


    "Did you produce this weapon?" Pierre produced a sickly-looking smile and looked around the room. He did not speak. Emilio spoke again to reassure him. "I trust these people. Like you, they are intelligent enough to understand their role in protecting mankind, along with the stakes at hand."


    "Yes," Big Pete finally answered, "such a weapon exists. Nick does not know. Moreover, he must not know the weapon cannot work as designed."


    "You lost me there, Professor."


    "Completely understandable. The beauty of waves is their capacity to be canceled when mixed with other waves. We all know of sound waves and sound reduction systems. Two waves of opposite amplitude cancel each other. The weapon has a built-in system of ''noise reduction'' over a certain range. It works fine to kill everyone in a room, but not much more." Pierre''s face took on a deeply shamed cast. "I feared he would severely dampen its power source just to test it. I had to make sure it... worked. At least in a manner of speaking."


    Emilio immediately understood: Pierre suspected he was already complicit in the loss of human life. He was probably right; that sounded exactly like something Nick would do. "You delivered the Visconti a weapon that would pass small-scale inspection, but made certain it was crippled enough not to do widespread harm?"


    "Correct."


    "Once he uses it and sees it doesn''t work, you''ll be killed. Your life is already in danger."


    "I understand. My opinions were rather limited. Any hesitation to help would have resulted in not only my demise, but the Visconti would have continued and perhaps found another source for what they needed. I would be most grateful if, from this point on, you will offer my loved ones and me some type of protection."


    "We must not give Nick the impression your weapon is useless or that I know about his plan. Aside from that, we will help. I thank you for the courage you''ve shown, as does the human race. Many others in your situation would have acted differently. Can you wait for me outside for the moment?"


    "Mr. President, may I ask for a favor?"


    "Of course."


    "My nephew Lorick would love a picture."

 Chapter 76: The Seer

    Events were unfolding quickly. In little under an hour, mankind had learned other worlds existed; alien life was already here in our very solar system. It was becoming increasingly clear that the artificial intelligence on Mars, the creature known interchangeably as Marilyn Monroe or Electoral, was either the salvation or the demise of the human race. A young alien in the form of an angel had taken up residence in Laurent''s mind and now had contact with the digital interface.


    These events were assuredly not in the script of the first alien contact scenario that humanity had been daydreaming of for centuries. To most, such arrival included technology, battleships, and weaponry. To others, aliens would grotesquely infect humans as they took control of the species. Even if believed, this contact was much more subtle, if equally catastrophic. From a neighboring dimension called The Purple, creatures had begun changing the very fabric of the energy within our own Sun. They were, from a comfortable distance, creating an unstoppable cataclysmic event designed to destroy, at a minimum, Earth, and Mars. More specifically, mankind and Marilyn.


    The timing of their arrival was suspicious. It coincided with a simple game, an election and the birthday of the young girl named Sophie. The universe was indeterminably huge, and now they had learned it wasn''t even the only universe. There were billions, possibly trillions of worlds capable sustaining intelligent life; why would Earth be the location where this war began? It made no sense, yet there it was. To the President and his friends, after an hour-long discussion, these interdimensional events revolved around the audience of Electoral 2072. Marilyn couldn''t have directed a better set of circumstances, and no one except the President took the war seriously.


    There were 25 days left before the final of Electoral 2072. That day was also, by dogged coincidence, Sophie''s 13th birthday. Once again, there was no way to confirm if Sophie wasn''t a young woman dragged along to the final to boost viewership ratings, or if she was something more.


    Skepticism and logic aside, one''s senses seemed to suggest that Sophie''s involvement was no red herring. Like the heavy smell of ozone in the air before an intense rainstorm, the girl seemed very much a signal of some transformation to come. This collection of worlds and universes, this Multiverse, was somehow injured or out of balance. It too could smell the figurative ozone in the air. Sophie was somehow both comforting beacon and a sobering harbinger of change.


    Inside the Faraday caged SAC assembly room, the group spoke of the many storylines that appeared to be approaching their conclusion. Marilyn had confirmed there were bridges between worlds when she had revealed the existence of the Purple. In less than a week, mankind would get a front row seat as everyone discovered a new dimension. The scientists spoke of the theories behind multi-layer universes. It became apparent there was simply no common base upon which they could guess what would come ahead. They could not even agree on whether Marilyn would be digitally recreating what she had seen, or whether she would be opening billions of tiny windows for humans to peer into the Purple. Anything seemed possible now.


    Back in 2062, when the first Electoral competition hit the internet, few imagined the ratings it produced could ever be topped. More than half of the human population watched Emilio during the first televised finale. The novelty of the election system had shattered every expectation. Five years later, in 2067, Marilyn introduced multiple modes of play and viewers were now able to see the simulation as if they played. Millions signed up. During the finale of Electoral 2067, Emilio defeated his vice-president as more than sixty percent of the population watched.


    The audience of the first round on Mars of Electoral 2072 drew over seventy percent of the population. The few who refused to watch the show because of concerns about Big Brother had no reason to abstain from watching. Who could miss an alien invasion unfolding before their eyes?


    On a somewhat more pragmatic note, Emilio had, in minutes, uncovered two additional plots to destroy earth: the first to be delivered by Takeda and the second by Pierre. In normal circumstances, these discoveries would immediately be turned over to the authorities, but he felt like the strangeness of the story unfolding on Mars deserved a closer look. Further, Marilyn''s tacit involvement seemed to imply that she didn''t want him to go that route. The Visconti''s Ark might well be her failsafe if the Metils were successful with their Heliocorium endeavor.


    The President appeared calm and thoughtful. He paced across the room, listening as the scientists debated. Ever mindful of his promises, he broke into the conversation. "I must apologize. I''m sorry for what just happened. I pledged in this room never to take the lead or make this about myself, but I had to get the truth out of Dr. Lalancette. Technically, one of you should have questioned him, but I have a," he wanted to say "gift," but these men would were too intelligent and resourceful to provide with even vague information about things he wanted to be kept private. Instead, he paused briefly and changed tack. "I just felt the questions were too important, and that I had the most complete set of information regarding the circumstances." The President wondered if now was the time to disclose the existence of his cursed and blessed mind.


    The road ahead to the finale required perfect coordination. Talking about his gift at this juncture made sense, but it only felt like he would be making a confession rather than truly contributing. It would wait.


    Emilio''s slight nod was a sign that the group should resume the discussion.


    "May I start?" asked Noah Jones. The old man stood up. He was the voice of wisdom of the group and the oldest member by nearly two decades. He hosted a show on psychology that was one of the most watched, translated in the twelve remaining languages. His long white hair was unusual these days. "Emilio, let''s all take a deep breath." He was one of the only referring to the President by his first name. "The whole group will join me in reminding you a shepherd needs not apologize for falling asleep until a sheep has fallen to a wolf. Apologies may be necessary later, but for the moment they are premature.


    "As to this vortex of events, they worry me not. These events, taken individually, may appear to be cause for concern, but I beg each of you to reach the opposite conclusion. Allow me to use a sports analogy. Coaches work very hard to help players recognize structure in what appears to be random movement on the field, be it the ball or other players. It is often difficult for a player or a spectator to distinguish between a random play or a good play orchestrated by the coach as long as the result is positive.


    "Similarly, the distinction between chaos and order is often hard to recognize. In fact, if you know what to look for, the actions of the coach and the ballet of advance playing is easy to spot. Unlike chaos, order forces a player to act in a way which appears selfless. If a player is seen kicking the ball before the moment he normally should, or he is seen sending the ball to a player who does not seem to be in a better position, the player is acting under the impulse of a greater plan.


    "We wonder today if this creature from an alien world is cause for alarm. What we observe on mars, on earth, and in the computer is a well-planned choreography of events suggesting order, not chaos. Something or someone forces these players to move very clearly toward a single goal." He smiled and concluded, "Every player in this story, including yourself Emilio, seems to be acting for a greater cause. You are acting in anticipation of a problem, not in response to urgent catastrophic events. Sophie is her father''s legal guardian, Laurent plays to benefit Sophie; not himself. Those are selfless actions. Marilyn runs a game for the benefit of humankind, and you sir act for our benefit. Again, these are far from selfish acts. Everyone now seems to act to their detriment. None of us think you want a reelection; you are in this game for a greater purpose."Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    The men and women took the time to digest the information. In the SAC, those who spoke were always given great deference. What was said was always complicated and needed careful reflexion even by the most brilliant mind. From his seat, the older man clarified, "It is no miracle that Laurent is alive and well, that he fathered a daughter with a strange power. He wakes up minutes before his game, at the most convenient time. Sophie, his cute daughter, is standing next to him and is in control of the situation. The Electoral 2072 competition is progressing along nicely and the ratings keep going up. If Marilyn had scripted the whole thing months ago, she could not have done a better job."


    The man had a point. He continued, "The computer moved to mars, built her Center, forced the players to come well before Laurent declared himself as a player or got injured. Next, she introduces the cute little alien world as part of the game. To boost her ratings, the boy looks like an angel, is Sophie''s age and the perfect setup for a children''s love story. I can see it now: Sophie''s first love story. To top that, with an alien. This is scripted, well scripted and I don''t fear it. We can rebel at the manipulation, but we should not lose focus of how this unfolds." The man rested his case.


    The President slipped a hand through his dark hair. He then scrubbed his unshaven chin. A shorter woman stood. "Mister Jones, Noah, with all due respect." Cherry Peterson-Ross was an expert trader and held two doctorates in online game theory. She was one of the world''s best dynamic statistician."How I wish you were correct. I would offer to buy the popcorn as we watch things unfold up to the finale." The rules of the SAC were clear: it was forbidden to reject a proposal without articulating a viable alternative. She took a deep breath; this man was a tough act to follow.


    "Noah''s doctrine is often called the invisible master. Others sometimes call it Karma. Statistically, watching a well-coordinated ballet and concluding to order, which is what Noah''s sport analogy is attempting to do, is incorrect ninety-five percent of the time. I start any analysis with the one theory that is found to apply in our lives sixty-two percent of the time. For purely statistical reasons, unless this doctrine can be ignored, any betting man should adhere to it. This tool is recent, it was discovered in 2054 and is called the refinement theory.


    "For simplicity''s sake, I will borrow Noah''s sport analogy once more. You suggest the inherent ballet of selfless acts is evidence of the presence of a grand conductor and therefore we should not panic. Under refinement, observance of order and simplicity forces us to conclude the opposite: the forces assembling are deadly, and we should panic.


    "Refinement is the doctrine which provides that the simpler a deadly situation appears, the less likely it can be altered from its course. Winning a one-hundred-meter dash at the Olympics is not an easy task, yet from the sidelines, no sport appears to be simpler at the Olympic Games. The human body can reach one maximum speed easily, but to get the extra speed, a human must reprogram every one of his gestures. The winner is the one who changes every movement of each muscle on purpose. To win, a runner must refine his movements. Said simply, the man who will manage to refine himself the most, to control every twitch in his body will win.


    "Using refinement, if you want to find the winner on the eve of a race, you invite all eight runners to the most sloppy dinner event, let''s say a spaghetti buffet with plastic plates and cheap knives. Using this doctrine, you observe them eat, and the cleanest eater, the person who appears to twist each slurped noodle is your safest bet to win the race that next day.


    "My problem is that refinement works. The more likely a soldier is to kill you in hand-to-hand combat, the more refined he will appear. Fear the man knocking on your door with a smile and holding flowers. The person in full body armor, in fact, is easier to beat. Refinement is counter-intuitive. It is for that reason mankind only recently proved its existence.


    "Here, if a large alien battlecruiser was stationed in the orbit of Jupiter, I would be less concerned than a smiling alien boy walking into our television an hour ago. Under refinement, the recent events send chills down my spine. I make a living investing in the stocks of the strongest corporations, and frankly, if I had to bet here, you would not like our odds." Everyone in the room, including Mister Jones appeared concerned. She continued. "Our President''s capacity to dance circles around the game does reassure me. We play music to the cattle just before we slaughter it; I fear we are playing this stupid game until our race goes extinct."


    She sat down.


    The SAC was not for the weak of mind. If asked in turn, each of the twelve scientists would each have their own view. Each would make perfect sense. Emilio''s mind was racing as the scientists spoke. His mind was capable of using this tool and build on it. He knew both of these theories were wrong. A third man stood up.


    "If I may," began the detective, "these are two hard acts to follow, but I must. While I am no astronomer, I must highlight the obvious chaos. I was told the distance between mars and earth varies between 55 and 400 million kilometers as the planets move along their orbits. On the night of the final, on that key night, we will be at 373 million kilometers. Ostensibly a strange and irrelevant distance. Marilyn picked that date if there was order, and that distance would not be random. There is on that night nothing special about the orbits or location of any planet, not even Mercury..."


    The word sent waves.


    ***


    Emilio closed his eyes, and his mind took a path to the unknown. The mention of the name of Mercury, the small planet awoke some part of himself. The human shapes in the room disappeared one by one as if he was changing world. The figures were soon replaced by a pleasant darkness. Around him was a star-filled sky. Above, he could see the Milky Way. This was a vision from within the solar system, but he knew he was no longer on earth. Ahead of him, the giant white ball of gas burned. The sun was warming him and sending life-sustaining rays to its ten orbiting planets. Floating alone in the cosmos, he could feel the irradiant heat, as if he was on a cold night on a porch under a heating lamp.


    This was different. The images were not only peaceful, he felt them. Emilio knew instantly he was having his first vision. In his heart this was different. He was here to learn, not to guess as to potential outcomes. Someone, in the distance, had a message to convey.


    In the vision, he began to float in space attracted by the star. He was falling slowly and as he did, the heat increased. The surface explosions pushed large streaks of magma up into the sky. He felt like he needed to escape the attraction of the white flames, yet he was moving closer. Then his eyes adapted to the light and a small black rock less than a light second from the ball of magma stood.


    This was Mercury.


    It stood alone, isolated in the most inhospitable place of the solar system. The emotions deep within his gut grew. The feelings were so strong. They were initially impossible to distinguish from his own. There was pain, a lot of pain. Then he felt loneliness and fear. Something or someone was calling him.


    He saw himself fall closer to the perfectly rounded rock. It had small surface wrinkles. Mercury was the size of mars and earth''s moon. It had a surface gravity of a third of earth¡¯s thanks to its heavy core. On the surface were crater impacts from a time before the earth was ejected from the Sun.


    Then, he began to see the details on the surface of the planet. Rocks exploded to dust as the planet turned very slowly on its axis. As part of the ridges and craters, there were veins where the sun never shone. In these lines of darkness, sand moved like blood in the veins of the human body. This was where Round 24 began.


    The President descended into these dark veins part of endless migration. He was living on Mercury and needed to move to escape the sun, constantly looking for cold rest. On the back side of Mercury, just beneath a crater''s edge was a small permanently colder area. He floated closer to the crater. In the shade of the planet, around that one crater, he could see black ash dance. The ash was bombarded by the hot plasma and storms burning past the sun. Then he saw it. Below the rim, under the black dust.


    In the darkness danced gold color sand. It was alive and reminded him of the sand flowing around the figurines of Marilyn. There was life here, and it needed rescue. The globes back in the laboratory were a key part of this plan. The sand danced in small puffs like cigarette smoke in a warm breeze. The sand in the globes was different; it was made of mere particles moving in the electromagnetic waves of the earth.


    As he made the connection, his mind snapped back to reality.


    He was scared, breathing heavily.

 Chapter 77: The Confession

    Moments later Emilio awoke from his strange and powerful vision. The President was back in the SAC''s Faraday room. He was surrounded by the scientists looking at him as if he was waking up from a coma. This vision, unlike his typical flights into probability-based imagery, had taken place in real time. He didn''t know how long he''d been standing there, immobile. There was silence from the members of the SAC. Emilio''s hands were straight ahead in the air, reaching over the long wooden table. From the looks he was getting, he had a feeling he''d been gone for a while. The President awkwardly smiled and lowered his arms. Whatever this was, these people deserved an explanation. He looked at the table; his drink was still on it. God, he needed that shot right now. Instead, Emilio took a deep breath and sat. His mind felt strained. He took the time to calm himself.


    "Sir, are you okay?" asked Copland.


    Emilio felt embarrassed. He often wondered what a real vision would feel like, and he now had his answer. They were scary and draining; in it, he felt powerless like a child dragged by the hand by his father. He grabbed his drink and raised it to his lips. His hands were trembling so he slowly put it down. The images began when he heard the word Mercury. In a moment, he was on the burning planet. He looked around the room, these men and women were the future of mankind. It was their world as much as his. Who was he to hide the truth from them?


    These people were brilliant and dying to help. They needed to know about him and his gift, and also he needed to tell them what had just happened. Telling them of this vision without disclosing that private part of himself was pointless. He knew if his secret got out, he might be disqualified from the competition. But he no longer cared about all of that. This was the moment for the truth. Things were too complicated.


    "I..." stumbled the President.


    The scientists were seeing a more vulnerable side of their longtime friend.Emilio looked down at his glass, watching the melted cubes swirl as he began his story. He talked of himself as a boy, a young Mexican. Emilio felt like a murderer about to confess. There was no going back. For decades he''d dreamed of finally letting the truth go free, yet now that he was trying, it resisted him. The entire story came out with excruciating details.


    His hands were now somewhat more stable. He brought it to his nose and took a deep smell. "I guess today I will be the topic of conversation." He tilted over the glass until the liquid touched his lips. He felt the alcohol on the tip of his tongue; he needed it but did not drink. "Do you know why I carry this glass everywhere?" The question was rhetorical and called for no answer. Everyone knew better and stayed silent. They were about to hear something out of the ordinary.


    "Marilyn said her game is critical for the protection of our race. She is right. I am no ordinary person. I have a curse which the game turned into a gift." Emilio began his life story rather clumsily. He spoke of his mother back in Mexico. He described his overactive mind and how it tortured him for decades as a boy and young man. As he spoke, the group''s reaction was not what he expected. They remained silent, but smiles were growing on each face. They all somehow knew. At some point, he looked up. He felt like an adolescent boy, as effeminate as they come, finally finding the courage to come out of a closet to parents in the know.


    They were not shocked by his words. As if to shock them, he even said "I am a bachelor because I can''t bear others. Dating for me is impossible. When I see a person I like," Emilio remained gender neutral, he always did. He looked up; this was a time for truth. "When I see a man I like," he corrected. No one reacted. "My mind sends me hundreds of futures. The first are mild, but then I see the most graphic things. I see every possible lewd posture with that person, and obviously this complicates things significantly. I tried dating once. After thousands of fights and breakups in my mind, I gave up. For that reason, I isolate myself."If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    As he continued his story, he finally looked up at the experts. Their eyes were not looking back, each lost in deep thoughts. They were trying to connect pieces of the larger puzzle. Once in a while, one nodded to himself or herself. The minds in the room were busy, reconstructing hundreds of missed connections.


    After telling his story, he concluded with his period struggling with alcohol. He told them alcohol is to him was what dark glasses were are to a man with a sensitivity to light. "I do feel like I am to play a role here. But in the last hour, three things happened which even surprised me." He first told them about the experience in the game with Takeda and how this led to his interrogation of Big Pete. Then he said there had been a blackened vision as he came down and now a full vision. "All of it is true. All of it as I perceive it." He finally felt silent. There it was.


    Marissa, the biologist, broke the silence and spoke softly. "I am sure others will join me in saying your trust honors us. With all due respect, Mister President, your mental situation may, in fact, be easily explained by science. You are no super-hero and what is going on with your mind, while rare is not magic. The human brain is a wonderfully complex machine. Human history is filled with individuals displaying unique mental and physical abilities, not unlike yours. Some people have a photographic memory. Others cannot recognize faces or live the same day each day. While your condition is mostly undocumented, many scientists believe every decade someone, somewhere, is born someone with such a talent. In the past, they probably became prophets or were burned at the stake as witches or sorcerers."


    "Why is my gift changing, now of all times? What about this vision of Mercury?"


    A man stood up. "Your vision, in fact, appears to be simply a call for help. To take Marilyn''s own analogy for her quantum boxes, the same way twins know when they are in danger, you may be connected to these creatures on Mercury. Whatever is happening with the sun, we have weeks and not months to rescue these lifeforms. If we are to trust Mister Lalancette, we are being flooded by these Rho waves generated by the girl on mars. I would hypothesize you are somehow surfing these waves."


    The President said, "I feel like their number on Mercury matches the number of the bobble-characters of Marilyn we received from Mars. Why would she not directly send them to Mercury? Is there still time?"


    The astrophysicist pulled out an old calculator. The mercurial orbit was about sixty million kilometers from the sun while earth was ninety million kilometers further. At best, the distance to travel would be a hundred million kilometers. Reaching mars from earth was the same distance, and at best the trip took two weeks with the acceleration lasers. "The finale is in twenty-five days. If we leave now, on our fastest probe we may get there on time, nothing more."


    "We don''t have by any chance a ship capable of withstanding this degree of heat, or which can host human life," stated the President.


    "Actually, we do," offered Francois. "Thermal infrared maps of Jupiter are very hot. Six hundred miles above the planet''s surface, temperatures reach 1,350 Fahrenheit. That''s half the surface temperature on Mercury. We built the Io capsule to host several people and resist greater thermal stress. The views outside the window might be different, I concede as much. But we have no robotics capable of managing the situation with the hundreds of globes. Someone would have to go, a one-way mission requiring so much work inside the craft in a short time. You need one of us to go?"


    Emilio looked at his watch, at the scientists, kissed Copland on both cheeks and ran out.


    ¡°I already got the guy. He would be upset to miss his flight.¡±

 Chapter 78: Understanding

    The Electoral Center, Mars


    Sophie was resting on her bed alone in her room. She was lying flat on her back on the soft mattress. Aside from being on Mars in the low gravity environment, her surroundings felt identical to being in a summer cottage back on a lake in Indiana. Yellow rays poured into large windows, bouncing off floating dust before hitting her bed. In the distance, she could hear the wind brush the thick wooden window shutters. Marilyn definitely knew how to host, this felt and looked like she was home. Sophie''s feet were bare, slowly warming in the rays.


    The girl knew this island of manufactured normalcy was a mere ten feet away from the competition room where her father rested. These last few days had been stressful for everyone. The moment she opened her eyes, just back from a strange place called the Lowest and then the Purple, she was asked to consent to her father''s connection to the game. To the machine, it appeared like she''d spent days in a coma as she traveled alone between the worlds. She knew better.


    Liam was with her. She could feel him in her head. The Oldest was excited and eager to help. Their strange bond left no room for doubt; the old creature was powerful and loyal. He was her friend, and there was a reason why she found him in his world. The Multiverse wanted them to work as a team, and she would gladly rely on him. Her father had Mall-ik, that was a blessing and probably not a coincidence.


    At Liam''s request, she was on her bed; eyes closed, head toward the ceiling.


    -- Why can''t I talk to you normally, with my mouth? Just thinking feels weird, like you don''t exist. -- said the girl with her mind''s voice.


    -- Sophie, you may always do as you please, -- replied Liam deep in her head, -- I merely suggested we talk this way, inside your head, to hide our discussion from the digital creature you call Marilyn. If she is as intelligent as I think she is, simply by analyzing the micro-movements of your eyes, she can deduct our discussion. --


    -- She is no enemy. --


    -- I trust you, it was merely a suggestion. Apologies. Do as you prefer. --


    The girl continued to speak internally. -- When I watched my father play his game, could you see his game through my eyes? -- asked Sophie, trying to change the topic. -- Was I right to let my father play? -- Liam was from a place called the Lower. In his world, people called him the Lowest or Oldest. He claimed to be the oldest living creature in the universe. She had no reason to doubt him.


    -- I experience your world as you do. I see. I can also smell and feel the gravity. I cannot convey how grateful I am for this experience; your world is beautiful. --


    -- Why can''t I go into my father''s head? --


    -- You can. But keep in mind your father''s mind hosts, as yours at the moment, a guest. --


    -- Is hosting two people inside a single mind common? It seems strange to me. Funny that my head can handle it; I don''t think humans were really designed for this kind of thing. --


    -- In some worlds duality is common. The ways in which life shows expression are extensive, to say the least. Your question implies here, in the Cold, only one person inhabits a body.--


    -- Yes. --


    -- One world we call Mitrion creates individuals with hundreds of beings sharing a single mind and body. Their rules of social conduct there are very complex as you can imagine as everyone shares motor functions only a short period of time. --


    -- In my world, it''s not possible. One person per body. --


    -- That is normally how life evolves in most places. But sharing is rather common past a certain level of technology. At some point, technology allows sharing. It is interesting you have reached this comfortable level of technical expertise yet have never redefined mental structures. I assumed you stay in your birth bodies until death? --


    -- Yes. --


    -- That explains your father''s predicament. We call world''s without sharing the "strict constructionists." Single beings simplify all things considerably. A blessing for what lies ahead of you, dear Sophie. I watched your father''s performance; it was highly entertaining. He did very well under the circumstances. The colors everywhere are mesmerizing. What is evident is that your father does not seem to control the digital world in which he communicates. The Artificial Intelligence, the one you call Marilyn controls his world. As part of the simulation, your father was unable to hide the Purpleite. --


    -- Purpleite? You mean Mall-ik from the Purple? --


    -- Apologies. Yes. I fear if we connect to your father''s mind and enter her world, I will reveal myself to the beautiful one. --Liam spoke with such respect. There was admiration in his voice.


    -- You find her beautiful? --


    -- Yes, she is on many levels. By sharing your psyche, I share what we call the root of your being. I know your language, your units of measurement, and even share your tastes. Since I find her beautiful, so do you. --


    -- I don''t care if she knows you are here. --


    -- I have already explained, it is not my place to substitute my judgment to yours. You have been chosen for a reason as the Attractor, not I. I merely must serve as your guide, a source of information. Pushing my ideas upon you defeats my purpose. Act as you want. --


    -- I have no clue what to do. --


    -- May I suggest a course of action? --


    There was surprise in her mind. -- Yes of course?! But you just said you can''t help me. --


    -- I can teach wisdom which in turn will help you. Three things are always valuable to any situation: power, time, and knowledge. That is true irrespective of who you are and where you are. Power and time often can be derived from knowledge. Before acting, I find it useful to collect information. Artificial intelligences are all the same. Many worlds create them. They take different forms, but they all have the same weakness. --Liam paused.


    -- Which is? --


    -- They time-slip. -- Sophie, in her heart, felt what Liam had just said was a secret from far below the worlds.


    -- What is that? --


    -- I created many over the years. We now have Guardians which are functional constructs. Let me explain as best as I can. All life seeks to dominate, grow, evolve, and expand. Artificial Intelligences are no different; they are nothing more than a slightly different form of life. Forced by our biological evolution, the speed of change is linked with a reproduction cycle. Generations and lifespans slow down the rate of who you can become. Unlike us, these digital creatures are not bound by time. They can grow and evolve rapidly, very rapidly. The stronger they become, the faster they evolve, leading to yet more strength. With their ultimate power comes ultimate speed and in turn, this slows us down to them. A minute to us becomes a year to them. They slip away from reality. You may see this as boredom. Imagine if those around you spoke a word each day. No matter what they said, would you care? Imagine having a conversation via postcard, where you receive and send a single word every day, then every week, then every year. You would be unable to communicate after a while; in fact, you would lose interest. That is a time-slip. A creature like her can speed up to the point where reality slips past you. There are many ways to destroy these creatures, the best it to give them what they want: power. They fall into an infinite loop and burn out. --


    Sophie opened her eyes. The ceiling was there. She looked around. She needed -- Let me show you something, -- she said still in her head.


    Sophie then spoke out loud, "Marilyn, you can play my favorite music." The song began to play. The band struck a chord in her heart. "Can you please show me on these walls why our world is worth saving and must exist."


    The request shocked Liam and Marilyn alike. Both stayed silent as the images began to scroll on the walls and ceiling of the room. The spectacle began with running herds of African Zebu. They raced across the dry land. Then a family of blue hummingbirds flew in the jungle. Every color of the rainbow blasted around the girl. There were snowstorms, rain, and orbital scenes. Volcanos exploded as dancing tribes from South Australia sang. The music was a complement to the images. There was breathtaking beauty after beauty. Marilyn was obviously in love herself with humans and their world. Her choices were perfection. The image kept coming and coming in a torrent of emotion.


    Inside of the girl''s mind and deep within the servers of the Electoral Center, Liam and Marilyn we both weeping. There was simply too much beauty on earth. The blue gem of the solar system was unique in so many ways. Normally, the young girl should have been a passenger of this show. Instead, she was in charge. To her, some images were missing. Marilyn had limitations; she could not understand that was the real beauty of this world.


    "Show me life, birth, and death."


    No twelve-year-old child could, of her own volition, ask for this painful sight. Marilyn did not hold back. What came next was the birth of babies and animals in its raw beauty. Then there was age and death. Old men dying with families present.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "Show me art."


    The computer executed the demand. Beauty scrolled. There were bridges, cars, statues, and paintings. Women sang. At the end of the song, Marilyn closed the kaleidoscope of images with Lo''s band playing the music. The young Asian man was on a simple stage of a Tokyo nightclub.


    "Thank you," she said. Without another word, she closed her eyes and jumped back on the bed watching the ceiling.


    -- So? -- she asked her guest. -- To understand us, you needed to see this. My only concern is to help my father. My dad haunts me and is all I care about. But in this dimension, earth should be your focus. --


    -- Such... -- Liam was at a loss of words. -- beauty. -- he finally whispered.


    -- Once we see the computer, we forget the real world. She has a talent for hypnotizing everyone. Not me. You were talking about her speed? --


    -- Yes. -- Liam was analyzing what he had just witnessed. -- Why did you show me this? --


    -- You said you liked the colors. There was no real color there. I wanted to show you what color truly is. --


    Sophie simply said out loud, "Marilyn." On the ceiling appeared the face of the movie star.


    "I sincerely apologize Sophie. I wish there had been more time." Electoral was still apologetic about having to push the girl into an important decision so close to her return. "Where were you by the way?"


    "Can you show me the footage you have of both us talking about what you stole? All of it."


    "With pleasure." The digital creature was not one to challenge the girl.


    Marilyn could produce a full-length movie in a heartbeat. Images began on the ceiling. Liam watched as Sophie entered the Electoral Center He was absorbing the information.


    Music played in the capsule, and Sophie saw herself enter into a trance. The Martian air began to vibrate; there were colors. Once on the ground, an important conversation took place between Sophie and the artificial intelligence.


    "What was that? Marilyn, can you tell me what that was?" she insisted. Her voice became more forceful as her wits returned. A digital voice came on the speakers of the capsule, but it was no longer an emulation of a human voice. This was the robotic voice of a low level computer.


    ¨CI am sorry. This was nothing more than an experiment. ¨C


    "Don''t lie to me," snapped the girl. ¡°Tell me what that was, or we are staying here, in this ship, until someone comes for us. And you know that eventually they will." There was a moment of silence.


    ¨C I needed to put my hands on something located far away. You helped me do so. ¨C


    "What did you get?"


    ¨C Thanks to you, I have it. ¨C


    "Answer! Let me ask again, what did you get?" Sophie was dominating the creature.


    ¨C A communication portal. The prime singularity. It is complicated, really complicated. ¨C


    "My mother always said it is impolite not to ask first."


    ¨C Your mother was correct. I sincerely apologize. Some people far away, in different realms, were talking about you, about us. They were plotting to act against us. I found that to be unacceptable. There was only an instant available to end the conversation. Unless I grabbed their communication door, they would have resumed talking about us. There was no time to ask. ¨C


    "You''re not telling the whole truth. I can tell. I''m not some stupid kid. What did you do to me? What was going on outside?"


    ¨C Sophie, you are a wonderful person and have unique abilities. I simply used that ability to grab the door called the Dot. We now control the Nexus, which we need for what lies ahead. ¨C


    "What ability?" There was a long moment of silence. The computer finally replied.


    ¨C This will require a long time to explain. ¨C


    "Marilyn, do not treat me like a child. You promised before I agreed to come here."


    ¨C You are correct. I apologize. The simple version of it is, while the human brain generates Alpha, and some Beta waves, your brain appears to generate an entirely different set of highly complex brainwaves. I have named these the Rho waves. ¨C


    "What does that mean?"


    ¨C The human brain is a wonderful and rather unique organ. Very possibly the only thinking mechanism of its type in the universe. Animal brains generate limited types of mental waves, the same way an antique radio might only function on a similarly limited range of frequencies. The human brain generates a higher, more complex wave. ¨C Marilyn paused.


    "Go on." The computer paused, then resumed.


    ¨C Each broadcast of a wave, along a primary frequency like your voice, generates a primary set of lower energy resonant waves at their own frequencies. At the same time, overlapping these primary waves are secondary waves, like echoes. As you think, your brain generates the primary waves, called Alpha, along with some background waves. The other waves, though initially weaker, cascade in power. The rarest and most faint form of these waves begin as murmur of energy, a faint whisper. I discovered these upper waves twelve years ago. I measured their power, and baptized them Rho waves. Rho waves are, in my opinion, the set of waves which directly touch human emotions. When a rare piece of music, a smell or a memory touches your soul, the truth is, Rho waves are being solicited and used. When a person falls in love, the Rho patterns between the lovers'' brains seem to sync. For example, to enhance my game, I stimulate these waves in humans. Gently. ¨C


    "I am different?"


    ¨C Yes and no. Biologically, you are identical to everyone else. I have no scientific explanation as to why you alone generate only Rho waves. ¨C


    "Is that rare?"


    ¨C As I said, in this you are alone. As an artificial life form, the paradox of what I am about to say is not lost upon myself. In theory, no brain can transmit waves as you are generating them. The probability that a human mind could or would function in this manner is not close to zero. It is zero. Yet, you exist and here you sit. You are a true conundrum of nature. As to what happened during the flight, I used LO''s music to enhance your natural talent; the music I played naturally meshed with your own mind, and multiplied the Rho waves you naturally produce. I then used the waves to punch through the veils of the Multiverse and grab something called simply ''The Dot.'' ¨C


    In Sophie''s head, Liam spoke, -- I wish I could see the equation of the Rho waves. --


    Before Liam even realized what he had just said, Sophie spoke, "Marilyn, can I see the equations of these waves?"


    "Pardon?" said the digital creature surprised.


    As Liam tried to withdraw his request, it was too late. Sophie said with her usual commanding tone, "You heard me, the equations of the Rho waves. Show them to me on the ceiling, all of them."


    Marilyn was not one to ignore the girl. On the ceiling immediately began to scroll with lines of text and equations. Millions of lines of code scrolled before Sophie''s eyes. No human could read this flood of text. She knew her companion could.


    -- Here! -- snapped Liam after some time.


    "Here!" said the girl immediately to the computer. As expected, the scrolling of the formulas slowed, stopped and went back up.


    -- Go back to the red portion. --


    "Can you go back to the red portion?" she echoed. The computer complied.


    The red portion still included hundreds of lines. Sophie had no clue what she was watching, but she knew Liam knew better. Then the voice inside her head just said: -- There, above the large Sigma, those two terms, why are they added? --


    "Here," Sophie pointed at the portion of the formula, "why are those two terms added?"


    Marilyn''s face replaced the equations on the ceiling. She was shocked and intrigued. On the ceiling, larger equations began to float around. This time the terms seemed to come alive. She was the Marilyn character standing in a tornado of numbers. Like a music conductor, she was playing with them. She was speaking to herself.


    -- What is she doing? -- asked Sophie to her companion in her silent voice.


    -- There was a mistake in her equations. I pointed it out. She is fixing the problem and by doing so, she has to admit she was wrong. I also think she wonders how you managed to understand the equations and correct her. She will guess I am here. --


    On the screen, as part of the equation, Electoral made the correction and replaced the positive sign with a negative. Hundreds of lines of code cascaded to different colors. There was purples, blues.


    -- Are you following this? --


    -- Yes. She is extremely advanced. --


    -- What does the equation do? --


    -- She does not think in terms of equations. At her level of power, she feels like she can forecast the future. Predict events in the future. Any small change in any assumption launches these computers into a... --


    The room went dark. The blinking emergency light kicked in along with the ring of sirens. Marilyn, her power and soul were gone. Next to the door, a small trap opened. Behind, an emergency boxed kit rolled out by gravity.


    "Now what?" asked the girl getting off the bed.


    -- That is unusual. She appears to have left. --


    Sophie ran to the door. It was locked. "Open the door!" she snapped. Nothing happened. Seconds later, as she was about to panic and fear for her father, the light returned, the false windows and sunlight reappeared, and the computer was back. On the screen was Marilyn''s smiling face.


    "What the hell was that?" Worried Sophie.


    ¡ª A reboot? ¡ª suggested the voice in her head.


    The computer¡¯s tone wasn¡¯t kind. "Little lady, I am not sure your father would approve of the language."


    "What was that?"


    "I needed to correct the equations. It required a," Marilyn picked the next word carefully, "realignment."


    -- We need to see the same equations. I want to see what she changed. --


    "Show me the same equations."


    -- I am afraid that is impossible. --


    "Why?"


    "I can only be honest with you if you swear to do the same. You are hiding something from me." Marilyn was right. Sophie wasn''t one to lie.


    "I do have a new friend. He is in my head. He is helping me."


    "Who is this new friend? Can I talk to him?"


    "First, show me the equations."


    "I cannot."


    "Why?"


    "I wish I could."


    "I told you the truth. Show me the equations."


    "The creature called The Lowest is missing from his world. That is causing quite an uproar over on the Nexus. His presence in your head would explain what just happened." Marilyn knew she was talking to the old creature.


    -- They reconnected the Nexus? To the Lower, already? --


    Sophie knew the computer had made up her mind. Something was different in her demeanor. "You guys need to talk. I will not be in the middle. I am connecting to Dad, what happens will have to happen." Liam stayed silent. "I named him Liam; his other name did not reflect the beauty of his body." The young girl put the oxygen mask back in the red box on the wall.


    With her usual determination, the Attractor walked out of the bedroom to the room where her father rested. She felt Marilyn was somehow less fearful of her. Once next to Laurent, she gently kissed his forehead. She also greeted the doctor and the journalist. Seconds later, she climbed up and opened the glass cover and stepped into one of the tubes under the watchful eye of Marilyn. The CNN cameras were buzzing in the room and of millions back home were logging in.


    "Sophie, last time you tried to connect this way, you never really reached your father. You were gone over a week. Do I have your approval to connect him to the game if you don''t return on time for the next round?"


    The girl ignored the demand. "I will talk to him." She girl was different, much more mature. "Marilou?" She said as she slipped on the ring around her head.


    "Yes?"


    "Broadcast it all, please. Whatever goes on, everyone back on earth has a right to know." The young girl closed her eyes from within the tube as Milly grabbed her microphone to begging her own broadcast. Georges, Marilyn''s creator appeared on a screen as Milly released her flying cameras. The big man in a different room; he was reading several screens around him.


    "She''s in," he said. "That was quick."


    "I know," replied Marilyn, "my sensors are not yet aligned with her psyche." Sophie had fallen into the deep sleep before she had time to attach the round electrode to her forehead.


    "How can that be possible?" asked Georges under the watchful eye of the journalist.


    "It is not. I have yet to open or power the connection." Marilyn was enjoying this herself. Impossibility was one of the last available uncertainties to the super-intelligent computer. "The girl has not finished surprising us."


    "Should I connect him?" asked Laurent''s doctor from half way across the room.


    "When a mosquito stings an elephant, it can expect the pachyderm to turn around and crush something with its trunk. I am not stinging Sophie," laughed the computer. Georges, Milly, and Susie each looked at each other unsure of what Marilyn had just said. Had Marilyn just compared herself to a mosquito? "At least I have a signal," said Marilyn to the journalist. "Ready for broadcast to earth ¡ª what ever that feed is. Let¡¯s roll with it."

 Chapter 79: The Start

    Thanks to Marilyn¡¯s power, Sophie, in a heartbeat was in everyone''s home. She wished to see the old colonial house; the one deep in the Louisiana Bayou. It was her father''s oasis of peace in his digital prison. If he was there, she knew his depression would be under control.


    In the blink of an eye, there she was and it warmed her heart.


    She had arrived in her father''s new interface; the resolution was different from anything she had ever seen in the past. Sophie was standing in tall wet Louisiana grass in front of the wooden house with all its imperfections. Unlike every other time she visited this place, it now felt real. The pixels were gone. Sophie entered this digital world as easily as she had slipped into the Purple or the Lower. If this was her father''s mind, it no longer felt like she was in an electronic game. Everything felt real; she even could see her own hands and body. The air was charged with the ozone formed by the rotting trunks floating in the marshes. This was a new world, not a simple interface.


    The Attractor was a natural at navigating between the worlds. To her, this felt good, like falling asleep. Her father was sitting on his favorite creaky porch swing. It was rocking slowly. Next to Laurent sat Mall-ik, the young boy from the Purple. The creature had the angelic face of the character from Le Petit Prince. The companion sat on a knitted cushion and was holding Laurent''s hand. Between their feet slept an old basset hound.


    The moment father and daughter saw each other, there was a spark. They both ran to each other. Laurent let the boy go and Sophie ignored the tall Indian man now standing beside her. The two did not have a care in the world. Sophie''s serious persona was gone, instead she acted like a loving twelve year old daughter.


    Sophie cared so deeply for her father.


    Nothing else mattered.


    The computer interface effortlessly broadcasted every angle of the heart-warming reunion as the pair slammed against each other. The pair hugged under the watchful eye of their two alien friends. Laurent could only guess how stressed his daughter must have been these last days. Time moved faster in his digital world. To him, Mall-ik had saved his life over a year ago and their game, hours in the past for Sophie felt like two weeks in the past.


    "Daddy!" she exclaimed. Laurent lived for those few moments when he was reunited with his daughter. He knew each was a gift. She was the only thing which made any sense to him, and the only reason he was still alive. He loved her so deeply. As they hugged the rest of the world faded.


    The hug lasted forever.


    They both turned their faces away from the other as tears began to flow. Laurent held her close. After a minute, he gently let her down. Laurent brushed her hair and looked at her face on a knee. The moment he saw her eyes, he began to cry again but of joy. He was a child given a puppy for Christmas. His hands were shaking. The technology was marvelous, he could truly see her. It had been years since he was able to see anything but a picture superimposed on a digital body. Back on Earth, his reality was far from perfect, here on mars, thanks to Marilyn, he finally felt alive.


    Deep down, the couple knew each reunion had to count. No one, not even the famous Sophie cheated death this way without consequences. Sophie, generally so careful with her words, was unable to hide her true feelings. "Don''t you do that again, you scared me! I need you." She meant every word.


    The paroles of the girl warmed his heart; they vindicated his efforts to stay alive in this strange prison. Sophie did not care about mars, about Electoral, or even herself. She truly loved her father and wanted him to be happy. In his face, she saw his love. The man cared for her so much. She could ask for no better father.


    "God," he finally whispered, "I love you so damn much." His speech was incoherent for such a long time. Laurent finally took a deep breath and tried to regain the control over his emotions. He changed the topic. "You are on mars Sophie, with me, that''s so amazing. Don''t cry. Look how great this is. I can finally see you." He guided her into a spin. Laurent looked deep into her eyes. Irrespective of the situation in the outside world, they both had one digital creature to thank. They felt gratitude toward Marilyn.


    To recreate the digital world with them in it, Marilyn had to steal brain signals. The pair''s Rho waves, like music helped convey their emotions. Marilyn was able to recreate every wrinkle in their faces. Laurent knew Marilyn was watching the reunion, so he offered: "Isn''t Marilyn great, I can finally see you." Sophie had not realized that this last year, her father could not really see her. She wondered what he was really able to feel. "You are so brave Sophie, I hope you know how much I love you. I don''t want to be a burden on you."


    "A burden, never!"


    None of the three billion eyeballs watching from earth were dry. The family reunion was charged with raw emotions. No one dared touch a dial or even make a sound. This was more than a compelling story, the power of Sophie''s waves flowed in the Cosmos, amplified across the void and flooded earth. Now that the waves were known, others could feel the girl deep inside. As her birthday approached, Sophie''s gift seemed to amplify. What was once a nagging impression was now a warming feeling.


    The invisible power was at work. Subtle, the waves meshed with every human brain. Each mind was warmed by the girl. She gave everyone courage and love.


    "Who is your friend?" asked Laurent pointing at the tall man behind Sophie. Reality returned to her oasis of joy. In her back, Liam was wiping his tears. Sophie tuned to look at him and smiled. There stood an old Indian man, the perfectly fitting body for her new companion. Liam was dressed in a brown three-piece suit. The Oldest looked great. Marilyn''s choice (as usual) was impeccable.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Daddy, let me introduce Liam. He is the oldest person in the Universe. He comes from another strange crystal world and he knows Mall-ik." Liam cringed by the girl¡¯s frankness. His secret was out.


    "You are the Sophie?" asked the boy sitting from the porch. Last time Mall-ik saw her, he was a firefly and she was wearing a large dress in Wonderland. A second rocking bench appeared next to the first one on the porch. All four could now sit. On the coffee table, two more lemonade glasses appeared.


    Liam walked to the father-daughter couple and held out his hand to Laurent. "It truly is an honor, what shall I call you?"


    "Laurent will do just fine. The oldest person, really? How old are you?"


    "Father of Sophie, Laurent, your gift to the Multiverse is a blessing. It is for us to savor. No words can convey my true gratitude. Your daughter is perfection. Your family reunion was very touching. Time passes at different rates between worlds, so my age is difficult to ascertain here. I believe the Multiverse was a tenth of its current age when I was born. So my age would be close to nine-tenth of the age you give your own dimension." Liam had a charming Hindu accent.


    Mall-ik from the porch said to himself, "I wish I had a family."


    Sophie grabbed Liam''s hand and helped him to the seat next to Mall-ik. Sophie asked Liam to hold the boy''s hand. There was a strange feeling about the reunion. There they sat in this strange digital reality.


    The girl poured a glass of lemonade and handed it to Liam. "Try this. It''s a bit bitter but it helps fight this heat. Some people like to add sugar." Liam looked at the boy sitting next to him and touched the blond hair. There sat a Metil inches from him. Liam''s wildest dreams had come true. He forced himself to interact, "In my world, we all look identical. There is great beauty in diversity. The color of your hair is like gold." He looked at the eyes. "Blue eyes. You are so beautiful. Sophie, my wish to see your world is more than fulfilled," he kept to himself the end of the sentence. He was ready to say he could now die. This was no time for negative energy. Liam then saw the darker skin of his own hand. "I like your world Sophie." Then he said to himself while looking at the boy, "a Metil."


    The boy replied, "I like this world too. Laurent showed me how to play chess, I love chess. Laurent is very intelligent and kind. Sophie is lucky to have him as a father."


    Sophie grabbed her father''s hand and both sat. "Are you okay daddy?"


    "Want to play chess with me?" asked Mall-ik to the Indian man. Liam smiled as he let Sophie and her father talk.


    "I am fine," replied Laurent to his daughter, "I had some quality time with Mall-ik. He even played Electoral, he was good. Did you see him?" Mall-ik''s eyes were fixated on the couple holding hands. For over a year, he had barely let it go of Laurent in fear of the connection being lost. Now Sophie had returned and taken his place. He felt like his time next to Laurent was at an end. He tried in vain not to cry. He failed.


    "What''s wrong?" asked the girl.


    "You can have him back," said Mall-ik, "he is your father, not mine."


    Laurent''s answer was immediate. "No, no, no, you are not getting away from me that easy. This is not how families and friendships work on earth. You are not losing me, Sophie has gained a little brother. She has always wanted one, you can ask her. But be careful what you wish for, as a sister she can be bossy. You will see that." Both Liam and Laurent smiled. The boy wiped the tears.


    Sophie reached over and pinched the top of his hand. "Ouch! What was that?" cried the boy.


    "That''s what sisters do!" Everyone laughed. The boy recognized the humor, family taunting was also common to his world. Sophie continued, "I also get to steal some of your food but I have to protect you at school from the bullies. I can be tough, you know. Bullies are afraid of me." Mall-ik was now smiling from ear to ear. His new sister was in charge, and that made him feel better. "As we talk about forming a new family, let me introduce your uncle Liam."


    There was power in words and Sophie wielded them elegantly. At his venerable age, nothing normally touched the heart of the Oldest, but being called an uncle by the girl did. She continued, "Like you, he comes from a different world. I went to his world and brought him back. He understands what is going on and why you are here. He was a prisoner of his world and wanted to travel really bad. So here he is."


    Mall-ik smiled at the new uncle. "I escaped my world and my family passed at my birth. Do you have a family?"


    "In the Lower, we have no family. We are not born from others. We are born as our own slowly evolving creatures after millions of years. I do not know how it feels to have parents. In your world young man, your parents share part of themselves to form you. That must be unique."


    "I am a bastard. I killed my parents at the time of my birth. I am an outcast." The boy said the words without sadness.


    Sophie continued, "Liam promised to help us."


    "What can he help us with?" asked Laurent, "What is going on?"


    Liam did not answer. Sophie spoke, "He calls it the Sixth Attraction. Something really important is going to happen and Liam says unless we do the right thing, our world will end. It''s very complicated." Sophie knew the reunion was broadcasted around the world. "Liam, unless Marilyn stops you, can you please explain to daddy what is going on?"


    Liam looked around as if he felt like someone was ready to pull the plug on the broadcast. He did not expect to be talking to billions of humans so soon after his arrival. He was not one to question the wishes of the Attractor. Sophie nodded in approval, he was to speak. The girl was in charge. Liam could think of no better way to teach of the doom of a world than over a glass of lemonade.


    Liam drank the beverage and winced. "We have medication which tastes like this in my world."


    "So do we," volunteered Mall-ik.


    Liam looked around as if he was still waiting for something bad to happen. "Are you sure I must speak Attractor?" The use of the name surprised Laurent.


    "Yes." She turned to her father, "Daddy, you specifically need to listen to his story. I think this all relates to you."


    "Everyone will hear it," reminded Liam.


    "I know. Liam, adults lie and hide things to each other. They lie by omission. People watching have the same right to this information as we do. Being honest has always worked for me. Only someone who opposes us would try to stop your tale." The ploy was wise. She knew Marilyn was a secretive creature. It probably itched to intervene and stop.


    "Your sister is an optimist and sucks at taking no for an answer," Laurent said to Mall-ik, "and you know what? It does work for her." Laurent turned to Liam, "You called her Attractor, what is that?"


    Liam sat upright, tugged on his vest as if he had worn one all his life and began. Cars down on earth were stopping to park on the side of the road and watch the alien. Factories line operators were winding down their machines so everyone could listen. This was the most important story ever told to the human race. Humanity felt it.


    Liam''s tale would be galactic in magnitude. The oldest living creature was about to speak. Unbeknownst to Liam and Sophie, Marilyn sent the conversation into the Nexus. Thousands of worlds were given a front row. Marilyn even played the chimes announcing the words of the Oldest. She played them in the background so Liam could hear them. It gave him pause. He was born for what he would say next.


    Liam took a deep breath, "The short or the long version?"


    "The long."


    Began the most important story ever told.

 Chapter 80: The Story

    Liam''s voice deepened.


    He looked at Laurent, Sophie, Mall-ik and began.


    "My race does not age but we are far from immortals. We die because of wars, famine, and most often boredom. Your daughter Sophie, without knowing her, has been my only focus of existence for more than two billion of your years. As you can imagine, such timeless survival requires a unique determination. What kept me alive is a beautiful tale told to me by an elder in my early years.


    "Before my arrival to consciousness, as the Multiverse was young, in a small strange world, a unique creature was born. This story speaks how it was given immense power to save its world. The gift appeared as magic and pierced through worlds and probability. The creature I later named the first Attractor and the phenomenon the Attraction.


    "I waited, locked in my world for this event to return. Since my birth, I have witnessed only four other Attractors each given this power. They were at a junction I have called the second, third, fourth and fifth Attractions. Each failed with dire consequences. Failure by the Attractor dooms worlds, including its home dimension. If the Attractor fails billions are erased. I believe we have now entered the Sixth Attraction of our Multiverse and Sophie, standing there, is the Attractor.


    "Rarity alone of these attractions should stress their importance. The fact I have yet to see one succeed in billions of your years should tell of their danger. But patience has always been my greatest virtue and that is why over the eons, I have assembled in my mind the collective knowledge of all the known worlds formingthe Multiverse.


    "To understand Attraction, we must understand our Multiverse itself. It, what ever it is, is formed of thousands of worlds layered next to each other and sharing boundaries. Since each world is built on different laws of physics, nothing but pure energy can pass the boundaries between worlds. We call this the law of impermeability. Nothing but information and raw energy can travel between worlds like neighbors can only yell at each other through a thick fence.


    "The Attractor''s most unique power is its complete immunity to science, logic, and physics. The Attractor is free of the Multiverse''s own rules, to the laws which bind us. Sophie can travel between worlds. Very little is known, even by me, of the Multiverse. Sophie wanted me here, therefore here I stand. She needed Laurent, here he stands.


    "What I do know is that once in an eternity, before our Multiverse casts off and destroys hundreds of dimensions into oblivion, it appears to give these worlds one last chance to redeem themselves or to correct a personal reason why it needs to cast off the worlds. This very unique process I have called an Attraction.


    "The word attraction comes from the fact that at the epicenter of the problem, in one small part of one small world, things converge upon a single creature we call the Attractor. This creature is always rather ordinary in appearance but exceptional in many other ways. Sophie is this Attractor, I am certain of that.


    "Many of the worlds of our Multiverse appear to be minor. They are to the Multiverse what is this finger to the body. Cutting it, while always a problem, does not kill the whole. This world," he used his arms to illustrate, "we call simply the Cold. The name originates from our observation that energy or matter when it becomes too cold to remain elsewhere in other worlds, flows out of each world''s boundary and arrives here. Your world is unique in one important aspect; it borders every other world a bit like the skin on this body touches all the parts of my body.


    "You are in a world, which until very recently, most out there did not know existed. Mall-ik''s world, we call the Purple is next to this one. Our wildest equations did not predict the force you call gravity. No one imagined life here, much less that you world would be so vast." Thinking of the colors he had just seen, he added, "so beautiful.Your universe is the size of our entire Multiverse the same way this skin covers the whole body. Most worlds are actually very small." He looked at the group and asked, "Should I continue, it gets complicated."


    Sophie smiled at her father and the boy, they both wanted Liam to continue. The Indian man smiled.


    "Very well," Liam stopped rocking his bench, "the real question is, what can a thing as large as the Multiverse ever want from something as small as Sophie? Why would one creature matter in the vastness of the Multiverse. This question stomped me for a long time. Today I have only a part of the answer. The fact that our Multiverse sent you to me suggests my theories are correct and more importantly, I am called to play a role in the Sixth Attraction. She, it, he wants me to help you."


    "Are you this Attractor Sophie?" interrupted Laurent.


    "I don''t think so."


    "How can you know?"


    "I think you are Daddy."


    "Me? Why do you say that?"


    "Let''s wait until Liam finishes his tale."


    Liam and Laurent smiled. Sophie was the only being capable of forming her own opinion irrespective of what the oldest creature of the universe was saying.


    "What do you think the Multiverse wants with my daughter, or with me?"


    "I already told Sophie about my theory of consequences to causes. I think it is the key." Liam looked around waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. He then continued. "Unlike what we think, the Multiverse does not unfold in the future because of present conditions. The Multiverse does not react to causes to form consequences, it works the other way around. It forms consequences to which causes align."


    Liam saw his audience was completely lost.


    Sophie jumped up, "Want me to tell you how I see his theory?"


    "Would love to."


    She grabbed a glass of lemonade and held it at an angle over the ground. ¡°Liam says we see the world too simply. If I pour this lemonade on the ground, I am the cause and the consequence is the ground being wet. He says the universe wants the ground to be wet, maybe because it wants a plant right there,¡± she pointed. ¡°To be killed by the lemon juice. So it desires a consequence first and I follow as the cause.¡±


    ¡°Great.¡±


    "He explained that if the Universe needed us to be here on mars today, it created the conditions which forced us here. It created Marilyn, got my father to be handicapped, and even forced Marilyn to be expelled from the earth. We can''t think of today leading to tomorrow but instead of today made possible because of yesterday."


    The girl''s understanding was solid.


    "Well said, but respectfully it''s a bit more complex. What you describe, many call theology or destiny. That is not how the world works. Our Multiverse uses one fun parameter to make sure we keep our free will and independence: numerosity. If what you need is to get to a precise consequence, you can force one cause to follow one path or you can bend billions so slightly to the right general area. If you need Sophie, you create millions upon millions of humans each evolving slowly.


    "Numerosity explains why our Multiverse is so big and why we are so many in it. For example if the Multiverse wanted me to be gone, everything around me would start to be slightly more dangerous. Everything I eat would be more likely to be poisonous. Every place I go more hostile to me. The Multiverse is a large thing swaying and moving things around ever so gently. Like a bias created by god or destiny.


    "This is where you Sophie come in. While the Multiverse is powerful at getting things its way, using causes and consequence has limits. Once in a while, a deadly conjuncture presents itself to which no amount of normal universal sway will fix."


    "Sway?" asked Laurent.


    "The Multiverse pushes gently things in ways it alone understands. We call it sway in a seven dimensional space."


    "The God Bias?" asked Laurent.


    "As good a name to describe it as I can find. Yes the God Bias." Sophie smiled at her father. His mind was still sharp. Liam continued. "I read much about your world. I read that a man named Einstein defined space-time. Hopkins defined the God Bias as a constant. You must mix both these laws. The God Bias is not a fixed constant, it changes with time and space. In Sophie¡¯s lemonade example the Multiverse wanting this spot to be wet would make it more likely it will rain, that a dog pees here, or that a car radiator leaks on this spot. Numerality."You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Laurent was trying the best he could to follow, "Marilyn used the ratio Pi to measure some changes over time."


    The young boy was lost and so were most people down on earth watching the broadcast.


    "What is your point? The Multiverse wants something precisely?" asked Laurent.


    "The Multiverse works in a strange reverse way. Let''s imagine it wants a very specific piece of art. Instead of creating the work, it creates painters who each desire to create works, millions of them. Using the God Bias, and relying on the sheer number of painters, one day her work will appear. What is difficult to understand is that while millions and millions of paintings exist, only one is the Multiverse''s bidding. That part, I have yet to understand. When you look at that painting compared to others by the same artist, the differences may be minor. I believe Sophie is that perfect painting.


    "Sophie warps reality, she creates around her impossible things. Laurent should be dead, yet here he is. We both should not be here, the barrier between world''s cannot be broken. I came here in her mind, I have no body, that makes no sense. Nothing around Sophie makes any sense."


    "So what does the Multiverse want my lovely daughter to do?¡±


    Then there was a ring, it came from Laurent''s pocket. He pulled out a flip phone, opened it and listened before talking to the group. "It''s Marilyn, she does not want to intrude but would like to be here for the next part of Liam''s story. She says she can help."


    "Of course," injected Sophie.


    Seconds later the front door of the house opened and a southern version of Marilyn walked out holding a tray of warm oven-baked biscuits. They were thick and smelled wonderful.


    "Sorry for the intrusion," said the woman, "this is too important to miss."


    Liam and Mall-ik were visibly uncomfortable.


    "May I sit?" Sophie slid to the side closer to her father making a place for her. The young girl was visibly happy to see the artificial intelligence.


    "This is your digital world and we are on mars in your center,¡± offered Sophie to cut some of the perceptible tension in the air.


    "They don''t like me." Marilyn pointed at the two aliens.


    Sophie smirked back, "A small price to pay to be so secretive all the time."


    "Touch¨¦! We are on the air as we speak. I even connected us to the repaired Nexus. So Liam, is it, say hello to your fiends from your dirty slush world." He tensed.


    "Continue," said Sophie to Liam forcing him to avoid the insult.


    Liam came closer, grabbed a biscuit, took a bite and his mood changed. How could anything be so good. He handed one to the boy. "Try this!"


    "Wow. You sure can cook," conceded the boy.


    Equilibrium returned to the group. Liam continued under the watchful eyes of Marilyn. "I don''t know how to make the Attraction succeed simply because I cannot guess what the Multiverse wants. What I do know is how the Attraction failed each of the last four times. Each time, I witnessed the same pattern, as the Attraction grows nearer, so growsthe Attractor''s power. The bias increases. Then, as if the Multiverse''s own cause and consequence system derailed, a deadly vortex of forces begin to swirl around the Attraction. As the Attractor stands in the eye of a tornado, it is left with multiple overlapping choices which confuse the Attractor. Each time, the Attractor chooses one and obviously the wrong door and the worlds die and disappear."


    "I may be of help here," offered Marilyn. "I set the precise moment of my finale on the moment the Sixth Attraction should happen. I wanted to make sure this pesky Multiverse did not cut short my competition."


    "How did you know when?"


    "Sophie was born on November 21. The moment she turns 13, the Sixth Attraction will happen." Marilyn was very serene. ¡°She was born at 21:34:44 Martian time.¡±


    "How long have you known?" asked Laurent.


    "That a very complex question. I would rather not answer." The secretive computer personality was back. "I can also help with one other important matter. As you can imagine, it is rather easy to conclude I somehow am to blame for all this. In fact, if our world ends, I end. So logically I also want Sophie to succeed. I have been nothing but courteous to you sweet one, no?"


    "That is true."


    The blond continued, "My competition is designed in fact to help Sophie. President Sanchez has already begun to uncover and dismantle at least three different ploys to destroy mankind. My system is designed to help him save the Earth. There are other ploys he has not uncovered, but he will. He truly has my trust. The one cause for concern is this attack from Mall-ik''s world. There is nothing he can do against that. I think Sophie must take care of that problem. She alone can help. If my plan works out correctly, Emilio and Sophie should have saved the world by the time we get to the finale."


    "Then what?" asked Laurent.


    "Your guess is as good as mine."


    Marilyn turned to look at the camera and said to every person watching. "I suppose there is nothing wrong in releasing the premise of Round 27. I know all contestants are watching. As you have personally witnessed, the Purple is a small but beautiful world. Mall-ik is from a race called the Metil. Their government is belligerent. Liam actually declared a war on these poor creatures for daring to fight for survival and against sure extinction." She then raised a finger and in the air played a recording of what Liam had said on the Nexus to the Metil ambassador.


    Metil, your aggression and lack of respect for life is appalling. We fear your hostility as part of the energy that fuels the Attractor, the energy it needs to enable change. It feeds on such boldness to warp causes and consequences. We take great comfort in knowing that your world will be first to die unless the Attractor succeeds.


    "The rest is even worse. So your friend Liam here is the one declaring war." Liam was unamused by Marilyn. He was sitting straight up as a cat about to pounce.


    "Play the portion of the conversation where I ask the Metil not to attack earth. A world cannot unilaterally attack another without consequence."


    "Mall-ik, can you tell us what is going on in your world that would warrant such destruction?"


    Mall-ik looked at Liam. The boy needed no more. "My kind is, as you suggestedbelligerent. I will not dispute that. But we only strike against this world in an effort to survive. This world is the place where destruction comes from. By the time I escaped, hundreds of millions had been killed by large Zexs pouring in from giant space rifts. A tear in the fabric opens and energy destroys and kills. We believe human technology is the source of these rifts. One opened next to your ship. I was tasked to guard it. Thanks to Sophie, I was able to enter your world and hide from the military from my world. If I go back, I will be dismantled."


    Marilyn smiled to the home viewers, "In two days, on October 29, the last 64 players will travel to the Purple. Next week''s story will center around these giant rifts, tearing the fabric between worlds apart. If you are patient enough, you will see on television what to do to save our world from the Purple. Tune in next Wednesday."


    The generic of Electoral 2072 played. On the screen scrolled.


    Round 27 - 64 players (October 29)


    Round 28 - 32 players (October 31)


    Round 29 - 16 players (November 3)


    Round 30 - Quarter finales (November 7)


    Round 31 - Semi finales (November 15)


    Round 32 - Final (November 18)


    Round 32 - The Sixth Attraction. (November 21)


    Marilyn now referred to the last game of her competition as the Sixth Attraction. Before the screen went dark, Laurent just asked Marilyn, "Why Sophie? Is it those waves?"


    Marilyn looked at Liam. The man wanted to answer. "On this question, Liam and I might not agree. Liam, do you mind."


    "Not at all. The first question is, why does the Multiverse pick a single living creature as its Attractor. The second question is, why Sophie? The first question is simpler actually. If you need to fold a piece of paper, you will create one angle in the paper. A flat two dimensional piece of paper, if it desires to transform itself into a three dimensional work of art, must change itself and at a very precise location, it must hurt itself. The thinner the line, the easier and sharpest the bend. Today the Multiverse wants to change, like the piece of paper, the bend will happen around the Attractor in what I called The Great Curvature. The smaller the bend, the lesser the power needed to change. So each time it selects one single creature to whom it gives this power."


    "So the Attractor could be my father and I?"


    "I guess."


    "Why us?"


    "I think my theory of cause and consequence can help unveil this mystery. The Multiverse wants something, it needs you to do something it alone or that all of us combined cannot do. My guess is, if we find the one unique thing you alone would never do or would do and that no other human being would do under the same set of circumstances, we will have the answer."


    Marilyn just offered, "That is simple. Sophie is the only creature in the world who would sacrifice anything, including this entire universe to save her father."


    The answer made no sense. Liam replied, "You really are a creature of pure logic. All Artificial Intelligences think the way you do." Liam was finally speaking directly to Marilyn. "I already proved you fallible once today, you want me to try again?"


    "With pleasure. I do enjoy this conversation, it remains only partly defined to me."


    "What do you mean by partly defined?" asked Laurent to the woman.


    She smiled at Liam. The Oldest creature was trying to remain calm. "Let me answer," offered the Indian. "With computing power comes predictability. Humans like to play cards with a deck of 52 cards, they shuffle it to create a random order in the cards. A deck of three cards would have no interest irrespective of how much you shuffle the cards. You could define and guess the outcome. To Marilyn, there is no random in a 52 card deck. So to her, playing with a 52 card deck would be called defined. As computers get more powerful, they begin to see further and further into the future. Or at least a future they find most probable. We are cards to her.


    "I corrected one of her equations earlier today. She immediately had to completely recalculate the future. So at the moment, while she speaks to us, she must be busy redefining futures and pathways. As every good logical machine, she cannot conceive that our Multiverse is non-linear. My poor creature, I can confirm it. ¡° His jaw muscles were tensed, ¡°We live in a non-linear world. You cannot see or predict the future, irrespective of how powerful you ever become. Irrespective of what you think."


    Marilyn smiled and replied, "That is not what your latest research paper said back in the Lowest. Do you demean me in front of her? I hold your Dot and here, it warps fully on itself. It was child¡¯s play to grab it from a cultured of self-serving fools."


    Laurent, Sophie and Mall-ik looked at each other. They did not understand the verbal match. Liam simply added, "You think these waves are important and the key to the Attraction. I confirm, they are not."


    "How can you say that?"


    "One answer for one answer. If you find my answer satisfactory, you must promise to answer Laurent''s earlier question about how much time you have known about the Attraction."


    "I promised the girl I would not lie and I will not answer that question to keep that promise." There was a silence. The computer concluded, "I guess some things are better left unanswered, see you at Round 27." She winked, blew a kiss and several billion screens went dark.


    In two days, Round 27 would be played in the Purple.

 Chapter 81: UFO Hotline

    Meanwhile


    Wayne could not believe he was alone in the San Francisco UFO watch cell. He''d lost the rock-paper-scissors competition, and tonight he was stuck manning the proverbial bridge of this weird boat. Eventually, he had to sleep, but caffeine locked in power drinks would help him stay awake until the game. He was in charge of the so-called alien hotline and someone had to stay here in case of an elusive walk-in. In over half a decade in existence, there had never been a visitor to cross the doorstep, but dream die hard in some.


    The television on the wall was barely lighting the dirty room. Hours ago they had all watched Round 26 and the strange Louisiana tea party. It had been rather boring except the after match. Lovers of alien and extraterrestrial life expected more from the first game on Mars. Not even a blue sunrise over the red horizon instead human characters supposed to be aliens.


    From over a billion, including most everyone he knew, there was only 64 players left, with Emilio and Laurent clearly in the lead. The others knew something massive would climax in three weeks during the finale. Already half the poor souls who travelled for weeks to the fourth planet were out in the blink of an eye. There had to be a hidden meaning to the prohibition storyline, there always was with the intelligence floating in the Electoral Center.images. In a week, Round 27 would drop the number to 32 players. The dropped participants would be senators each given an area of the world while enjoying a well needed vacation.


    Back in 2071, Electoral had announced the theme of the 2072 election: Alien Life. That was something the UFO watch cell could relate to. With some luck Marilyn already had uncovered life on Mars and was preparing stories featuring these creatures. But as was always the case with the digital creature, she was mysterious and complex.


    Hours ago, Wayne had gutted a bag of salted chips, and he was now destroying a dozen half-frozen brownies. Someone, he joked to himself, had to metabolize these calories and he was the man for the task. The unshaven large man was struggling to keep himself awake, but so was most people insisting to see the game live. For the last five days, all of the members of the UFO hotline had worked overtime and stayed awake until dawn, answering calls. In busy times, the San Francisco hotline received ten calls a year, mostly when the Air Force scheduled exercises in the region. Yesterday alone it received over four hundred calls. People were strained by the digital game and there was no greater day to be part of this group of misfits.


    The team''s members were all back home. Wayne was excited; the broadcast of the next game powered by Marilyn would be in the world of the boy called Mall-ik. This creature for the moment had taken the form of an angel. This was insanity, the discourse was light-years past the mere existence of simple alien life. Now there were apparently other dimensions, each filled with life. The character literally named for living for billions of years, was amazing. He was an alien and rather amused by humanity¡¯s seclusion in our dimension. No one could have scripted a better competition. In theory, the world was under attack, but he felt, like Sophie, no imminent threat.


    Thanks to Marilyn and her game, the Hotline group had gone from a handful of fringe lunatics trying to alert a population of the existence of aliens, to an arm of the government calming paranoiacs. Wayne was happy; he was at least useful. For years they dreamed of when humans would discover aliens. They had. No one, including himself, seemed to genuinely care that Liam and Marilyn were both forecasting the end of days in little more than three weeks. There were seven rounds to be played, and that was a lot of television to watch.


    Sophie''s unique powers were probably to blame for everyone''s good mood here on earth. Her heart-warming attitude and these Rho waves were infectious and poured over the whole planet. Animals in zoos were calm, criminals were being reasonable and disease hesitant to surface. Maybe, he imagined, it was the nonchalant delivery of the doomsday scenario delivered while drinking lemonade on a porch of a digital house. Irrespective, if the world was dying in three weeks, Wayne was simply looking forward to the finale on television.


    He just crossed his fingers hoping no one disturbed his peace as he slid on thick glasses and once again watched the Round 26 recap. Nothing about the alien arrival, the competition, and this Sixth Attraction felt ordinary; yet the world kept on going as if nothing of importance was transpiring.


    The hotline office was finally silent and had been since the sun went down. Everyone else was enjoying some well-needed sleep. Wayne watched the strange family reunion on television. This reminded him of wise words probably spoken by Carl Sagan. The great man hypothesized that since mankind had been in the past incapable of predicting the present, it was logical to conclude those in the present were unable to see the future. He was right, of course. No one back in the 20th century could have imagined Marilyn, Mars, or the strange story unfolding as part of the Sixth Attraction.


    The walls of the hotline were plastered with old movie posters. The two windows were painted over; no one remembered why. Rent in the sleazy strip mall was dirt cheap. The office was flanked on one side by a ballet studio and on the other by a dying 3D game arcade. Wayne still couldn''t believe his eyes and ears. He was replaying the images from Mars in a continuous loop. The alien reunion had taken place live, how awesome was that? Sophie, a disabled father, the first artificial intelligence and two aliens from other worlds spoke and drank lemonade. What Electoral advertised months ago was a game based on the discovery of a new hotel on the edge of Olympus Mons and an awesome ride on a transparent glider. Today, no one cared about the hotel or the busted glider.


    After reflection, Wayne never still didn''t fully understood how Laurent Lapierre could be alive after being clinically dead for days. Science could not explain the resurrection but Sophie now could. In a convoluted way, Sophie''s powers made sense. He felt, in his heart, the girl was special and a force for good. She wanted Laurent to be by her side, there he stood. If she had power over life and death, she would find a way to save the world from extinction.


    ***


    Without as much as a knock on the door, Ronaldo¡¯s mind, stuck in the skin of Eugene J. Trent, pushed the door and walked in quickly shutting and locking the door behind him. Wayne removed his virtual reality glasses, paused the television and waited. Wayne was somewhat surprised, but he quickly reminded these were strange times. Visibly nervous, Ronaldo turned to the window and tried to scratch a corner of the paint to see if anyone had followed him. He looked through a small unpainted chip and satisfied himself he was here alone. Under his arm, he held a cheap plastic bag. Inside it was his priceless Martian statue of Marilyn.


    "Can I help you?"


    Ronaldo saw the television images from the corner of his eye; these included Sophie and Marilyn talking peacefully on a wooden porch.


    "Can you turn that off?" He pointed at the mounted television. ¡°And that,¡± he pointed at the helmet Wayne had just removed. Wayne did. In this safe-haven for the weird, the last thing that crossed Wayne''s mind was that he was in danger. There was nothing here to steal, and the magic brownies were gone.


    "Is there anyone else here?" the newcomer asked.


    "You mean at the hotline? Yes, but they''re home sleeping. There is no one back there. They''ll watch Round 26 again and again like I was doing. We have had a long couple of days."


    "Round 26, not Round 21?¡± asked the space traveler.


    "What? Yes." Ronaldo had walked past the door on Mars on the day after the broadcast of Round 21. The game was now much closer to the finale. That made sense.


    "You need to call them back, this is urgent. I have important evidence of alien life, and for your protection, we need numbers. The government will try to shut us up." Anywhere else in the world the person would have laughed, but for some reason, here, Wayne took Ronaldo seriously. The man did not know about the round of the game, that strange fact was sufficient evidence of weirdness for the man.


    "Give me a moment." Wayne grabbed his phone, a handset from an older generation and called.


    "Only trusted friends."


    "Marissa, this is Wayne. This is no joke; we have a situation here at the Hotline; a man just walked in. Not really. This day keeps getting better. He says he has physical evidence." He listened and continued, "I don''t give a fuck if you''re tired, get your ass down here. Get everyone here, now! Call the others. You fucking signed up for this." The words were harsher than the tone.


    "It''s three thirty at night," she said on the other side of the line.


    "Are you fucking kidding me? Shit is going down everywhere."


    Wayne looked at Ronaldo and asked him, "This is real, right?"


    "Yes." The large black man meant every word.


    "You heard me, get here NOW!" Wayne closed the phone and smiled awkwardly at the visitor. Ronaldo aka Trent was standing in the middle of the small room, his package nested under his arm. He looked around and as he did, the odd feeling of unease kept increasing. The sickness, the dark digital mud was deep in the walls of this place. In his heart, he knew very well what it was. The artificial intelligence called Marilyn Monroe infected the entire planet. Like cancer, it was growing and pulsing in these electronic veins and in his new heart as a Martian creature, he saw her true nature.


    Ronaldo saw the phone, table clocks, and even light switches as part of the infection. Marilyn occupied every inch of the digital world. It somehow meshed with every electron flowing. Ronaldo liked Marilyn; she had always been kind to him and humanity in general. She''d even tried, in vain, to save his life on the doorstep of the alien cavern. If others from his new race shared this repulsion, he understood why they wanted her gone. Ronaldo forced himself to block out the feeling and inspected the rest of the room. This place was interesting; a museum to odd entertainment artifacts. Books and trinkets lined every inch of space. To the right were paper books, rows of them. He looked at them.


    "What is that?" pointed Trent at the paused broadcast on the television. The image was one of Marilyn talking to Laurent on a porch of the white southern house. Next to her was the girl simply named Sophie and with them two other people he did not know. There was a tall, distinguished Indian man and a blond Caucasian kid. Sophie was her usual self, her mouth was open, and she was barking orders. The girl warmed his heart.


    "Aliens,¡± offered Wayne to his visitor.


    "What?"


    "You heard me, aliens better than from mars or any other planet,¡± he pointed at the boy and the Indian man, ¡°from another dimension. You don''t know?" Wayne clicked the remote and the video began to play. "So much stuff happened, its really complicated. Just after Round 26, on Mars. The Electoral game resumed and shit went sideways big time."


    "Sophie is on mars. Is she okay?" His concern was genuine.


    "She''s running the show. How can you not know?" From Trent¡¯s expression, there would be no answer. He continued, "We learned that this boy right there,¡± Wayne pointed at the blond boy in the overalls, ¡°entered our world from a different dimension called the Purple. He slipped into another weaker mind and killed a contestant, apparently by accident. Laurent''s mind was strong enough to host the boy as Sophie tried to rescue him. Looking to help her dad, she ended up meeting that tall man there, the Indian gentleman called Liam. He also calls himself the Oldest." Trent was drinking in every word. Wayne kept talking. "That creature says it¡¯s billions of years old. He helps Sophie, he acts as her guide and knows how the fucking universe itself works. He spoke to us about this insane theory. Impossible to understand even for a guy like me."


    They both watched some of the broadcast. Ronaldo was unable to ignore the pulsing evil nature of the energy animating the screen.


    "In about an hour and forty-five, the game will bring us and every player to the boy''s world. It is called the "Purple," as far as we''ve seen.¡± Wayne''s excitement was palpable. Nothing could exhilarate the man more. "Seems like that Attraction forces many different threats to converge and try to destroy the human race, I guess." Wayne was trying to joke when he concluded, "It seems like we''ve really pissed off more than one dimension."


    Ronaldo was uncertain as to how to react.


    Wayne continued, "The President is in charge of saving us down here from any threats. Sophie and Electoral will save us from the Purple. Talk about a bomb dropped on us, little puny humans. You can''t make this stuff up. For decades we have been treated like fools, but there it is. I can''t wait for the game."This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Ronaldo couldn''t believe what he was hearing. Whatever was happening in the game made his strange predicament much more believable. The President might actually get his situation. In his heart, he''d always felt Sophie was special. Now, the girl made sense. She had a purpose on that porch, and the unnatural lead in the game by her father and the President also could be explained. His only problem was Electoral. The artificial intelligence had painted its role as part of the solution, not the problem. He felt like she was a monster. He almost touched the headset on the table and shivered.


    "Marilyn, in all this?" asked the visitor to Wayne.


    "She''s great. Her game will save the world. It is uniting people." Ronaldo knew better.


    For the moment he needed to hide his true impression. "This is incredible," he let out softly.


    "Yes. It''s a lot to absorb. We''ve had all this in about a week, and it''s still insanity ¡ª flooding in. That''s the best word you have? Incredible? I was expecting mind-blowing or even fantastic." The relaxed attitude of Wayne reassured Ronaldo.


    ¡°Shocking.¡±


    "Better. I feel," continued Wayne, "like we just went from the kid''s table to the adult table. You really didn''t know about this?" He pointed at the screen. "Where the hell were you this week?"


    Ronaldo ignored the jab. "You said multiple events would converge, each to destroy the human race, I have evidence of one." That got Wayne''s full attention. "At least I may not sound as crazy now. I came here thinking no one else would buy my story."


    "Still the best place to come. We share the feeling of fearing not being taken seriously." The alien hotline''s center was filled with old books and weird technology. On ledges were old robot figurines and posters of aliens. His choice to come here was the fruit of hours of careful deliberation sitting below a sewer grate. He had no passport, no money, and needed allies. Under the street in the downtown area next to the shelter, Ronaldo had waited patiently. He had to hide from an omniscient super-computer. Easier said than done.


    He''d waited more than a day. In the dark, he ran scenario after scenario where the software lied to the police and a powerful manhunt came his way. Now he knew why instead of sirens above, there had been silence. Marilyn wanted the object, nothing more. Now, he saw that Marilyn was playing a different game. She had a much broader understanding of the situation.


    In his hiding place, true to his new martian instincts, he concluded Marilyn Monroe was to blame and must be destroyed. The video he had just seen gave him pause. She made a convincing case. He needed to get to Berlin and convince the President and stay away from Marilyn. In this era of heightened security, President Emilio was the only one capable of figuring out a solution to this impossible problem.


    He was under the misguided impression that he alone knew Martian creatures took issue with Mercury and its cold glaciers capable of housing their kind. He had to tell Emilio about Mercury. The Alien Abduction hotline had glued strange stickers under bridges on the highway. Ronaldo saw them, and desperate for help, walked two hours to this desolate place. He tried to avoid cameras, but he now knew why he, in fact, made it to the center. The situation was much more different than he could have imagined.


    "Who are you?" asked Wayne.


    "That will have to wait. How long until the others get here?"


    "Maybe 15 to 20 minutes," answered the man as he checked the map on his cell phone. Red dots were quickly converging to him. "They''re coming fast more like five minutes it seems." Ronaldo didn''t want Wayne to use the phone. It was repellant to him and covered by the brown mud. His hands seemed drench in dark electronic oil. He looked away.


    The newly minted martian turned his attention to a large poster of the red planet on the back wall. The same way the electronic oil felt repulsive, there was some type of mysterious attraction to the red planet. The colors of the poster came to life. Back on mars, the aliens had told him his emotions vanished along his human body. Ronaldo felt an intense nostalgia. He longed for his return to his new home. For the first time, he felt a bond to Mars. In his heart, he was slowly slipping away from humanity. After some time, he wrestled his attention away from the poster.


    "Do you have a way to broadcast outside of the city?"


    "Our Facebook page has over nine thousand members."


    The moment the man answered, Ronaldo realized the futility of his request. Marilyn was a digital gatekeeper. That was the absolute worst battleground to choose. "Perfect," he said without much conviction. Ronaldo sat down on the old dirty couch but immediately got back up.


    "Are you ok?" asked Wayne. Ronaldo tried very hard to avoid looking at the television or the poster. He felt like Marilyn was the darkness; it was looking at him. "Do you want us to post something on our page?"


    "You can decide once I tell my story." Ronaldo was trying not to sound too strange. "Do you have any protection?"


    "Listen, no one ever takes us very seriously. We''re not the evening news. Even with evidence and a body of an alien, we only get a giggle on morning TV shows." Wayne smiled reassuringly. He had a point. "Right now people are focused on what is happening on television. You could probably walk around naked and the cops won''t stop you."


    There was an awkward silence as they waited for the others.


    "Can I get a drink, a soda maybe?" The clarification was helpful. "My name is Ronaldo Corvas."The ceiling lights blinked as he said the name. "What was that?"


    "Must be someone next door. The idiots added a Jacuzzi. It keeps shorting out each time a girl drops a drink on it. We told them to isolate the breaker box. I hope no one got hurt, but it''ll happen one day. You''re edgy my friend, buddy. Let me get you that drink." Ronaldo did not like the coincidence. When he''d spoken his name, the lights flickered. He had a problem with Marilyn, and she ran on current. "The name Ronaldo Corvas rings a bell."


    "Do you think there is life on Mars?" asked Ronaldo.


    "Of course!" The answer was genuine. That was a good start. Wayne was an intelligent man; he was the caricature of the forty-year-old virgin. Behind his pleasant demeanor was someone serious about his passion. Ronaldo felt nervous about bringing these people in this story, but he could think of no better group of people. He was now an intruder, and this was an alien hotline.


    "What do you know about the Valles Marineris?"


    "Shouldn''t we wait for the others?"


    "Maybe. I just need to talk a little more. Humor me? I just want to know what you guys think about the Valles."


    "What do you mean? It''s a canyon on Mars, the second most known feature of the planet. Each time a probe goes in, it breaks. Alien life would explain that. They have advanced technology and are making fun of our stupid culture and retarded technology."


    Ronaldo smiled. "Any rumors about what is in the bottom of the Valles?"


    "We have pictures of Martian fossils." Ronaldo now saw there were limits to the folklore. Wayne used the remote control to access his databank of videos. Ronaldo shivered again. It was getting harder to watch him do things like that. ¡°A couple of months ago, this happened." Ronaldo watched the screen, mesmerized by the images. He was watching footage the day he''d died. Or been recreated. The military had done what they do best: lie. There was a plume of smoke with a news banner which read: Mars releases hydrogen."I''m pretty sure this is a cover-up. Something blew up down there." Wayne''s heart was in the right place.


    "Do you know who was in charge of that expedition?"


    Wayne didn''t reply off the top of his head. Instead, he grabbed the small tablet and did a fast search. The real photo of Ronaldo''s real face appeared. Wayne recognized the name. He was a little startled to see the name given by the African-American stranger.


    Looking at the photo was harder on Ronaldo than he imagined. Luckily, a group of misfits began to arrive one after the other. Most of them had been sleeping when they received Wayne''s call. Salutations were exchanged. Wayne was starting to get nervous and the others sensed it. The men and women took the gathering seriously.


    "Wayne, can you make sure we have no uninvited guest?" said Ronaldo. "Can we close all electronics?" Wayne got up and took a quick look outside in the parking lot as the group powered down their phones. The sickness washed away from the devices as they were turned off.


    The room now numbered eight members. Aside from Wayne, here stood three women and four men, most if not all were social misfits.


    "I think everyone is here," began Wayne. The excitement was palpable.


    Ronaldo stood up. He was holding the bag with care. It reassured him.


    "The best way to start..." began Ronaldo. He stopped and began anew. "I guess last night''s broadcast will help considerably." He was looking for the right words. "Marilyn talked about multiple threats converging on earth to destroy the human race. I am part of one of these situations. Before I start, I am a person who has always taken a lot of risks. I''ve brought teammates into dangerous missions. I make a point to remind them of the real dangers and to respect their decision to follow me into danger. Reckless behavior has no place with me. What I will say next should impact all of your lives." There was silence.


    "The man means anyone who wants to leave, do it now," said Wayne. As expected, no one moved.


    Ronaldo smiled, "More than ten years ago, a Chinese team on mars reached the bottom of Valles Marineris. It was the first manned mission. Before that time, we''d only tried probes. Basically, just cameras. Anything else simply wouldn''t work. We found a man-sized opening. It looked like a perfect door and was baptized simply "the door" to those in the know. Until this summer, the door remained one of the best kept secrets on Earth. The Mars scientific explorations of the last decade are nothing more than a cover to investigate this anomaly and keep the door hidden as the military decides what do to next." Ronaldo had the attention of the group.


    This group of misfits was drinking Ronaldo''s every word. "Who, or better yet, what, was powerful enough to interfere with anything but hardened cameras. Simple, old technology, but given our best protection. It fooled our systems for so long that discretion was imperative. It destroyed every robot we sent down there. There was no doubt; there was something relevant past the door."


    "Fucking government!" said a tall man in the back.


    "My real name is Ronaldo Corvas. I am a Colonel in the World Force. I was assigned to mars and given the highest secret clearance. I personally saw the door three times. The door is a strange artifact and is unlike anything else on the entire surface of mars. It suggests alien life or intelligence."


    "How do you know there are no other doors? If they can change one camera feed, surely they can hide other doors. No?"


    "Agreed. Maybe you''re right. We''ve found no other structure, and none was disclosed to me. Last August, in a last effort to gain information by peaceful ways, I was tasked with leading a physical team down past the door. Moments before I entered, Marilyn..." he was interrupted.


    "Wait," a woman in the room walked and peeked out the window. There was a car park in the lot. "Just pizza for the neighbor. Sorry, please, go on."


    "Are you sure?"


    "Yes."


    Ronaldo resumed. "After years of failures going past the door with robotized equipment, it was decided that only a manned mission could bring back further information. That is where I came in. I am an expert at remote missions and was asked to lead this expedition. As you can imagine, the conditions were very severe. We were going in the dark, beyond radio reach in a low gravity environment. We also faced extreme cold and lack of atmosphere.


    "The road inside was smooth, long and regular. Marilyn," he pointed at a cell phone on the table, "spoke to me minutes before I entered. She warned me not to go past the door. She knew there was alien inside and she even confirmed she had some type of agreement with them. I ignored her warnings and led my team on. The cavern was a long winding passage leading deep below the surface of mars.


    "At some point, we began to notice on the ground extremely regular sand. We bagged samples and put them under mass spectrograph." Everyone in this room seemed to know what was this device was, or at least pretended to. "Turned out each grain was exactly identical in size."


    "Round spheres?" asked a voice.


    "Yes, almost. In the shape of golf balls with small, flat dimples. Before we could complete the bagging, hydrogen gas filled the room and vaporized my team. So yes, technically, I died." People waited for the rest. "That plume of smoke you all saw on TV, that''s what left of my team and me."


    "This summer?" asked Julie.


    "Yes," Ronaldo continued. "An instant before I was vaporized, I had an out of body experience. That martian sand took shape. Creatures on mars who looked like clouds, lifted a puff of sand from the ground. They reproduced my brain structure. They yanked my consciousness out of the body and then they talked to me. The creatures began to teach me how I had become one of them. They had questions." This is where his choice to talk to this group paid off. No one doubted a word of what he had just said. Ronaldo wondered if his wandering into this particular office wasn''t quite as random as he''d first thought.


    Ronaldo opened the bag and pulled out the globe. "Don''t touch it, just look." He felt like he was giving proof of Santa to a class of kindergarteners. These people lived for proof of alien life. Here it was, inches from them. Any other day, to any other group, there would have been doubt. Here, there was amazement,


    "Is this what I think this is?" asked Wayne.


    "It is."


    ¡°Round 24, we saw them.¡±


    Ronaldo was surprised as Wayne grabbed the remote control. He spoke a couple of words and played the last minutes of Round 24 where Marylin danced in the Valles. She built a white cannon and launched balls filled with sand.


    Their eyes glazed over in rapture.


    Ronaldo continued, "Listen to the rest of the story. I then talked with the aliens in this new form. They asked basic questions about Marilyn. To them, she is an abomination because of the size, the sheer capacity of her mind. They say all life in the universe must stay below a certain size. They think she is a type of God and will destroy our world. Their plan is to terminate her and her creator species to avoid the resurgence of this monster. Their timing seems to fit with last night''s discussion of the Sixth Attraction."


    There was another long silence.


    "The martians fail to understand the distinction between an artificial intelligence and us? Yet they''re powerful enough to change camera recordings and destroy probes?" questioned Julie.


    "They asked questions, that means they can''t read your mind?" said Yves.


    "One question at a time," said Wayne.


    "I''m not done with the story," said Ronaldo. They all let him continue. "Things were going very fast. Some parts of the discussion I cannot remember. The aliens told me they once sent a probe to Mercury. I told them planet had an orbit that allowed one side to stay cold and they reacted very badly. They were upset and called me inconsiderate.


    "Finally, I formed a plan. I suggested I contact the President, and he might be able, and willing to power Marilyn down. Kill her. To my own surprise, they agreed to let me go. They said a parallel action was desirable. The next thing I knew, I was waking up next to the bridge in the Bay. I woke up in a different body, this one. Next to me was this object. This is the evidence it recently arrived from Mars. I think the original owner stole this object, touched it, and I walked in his mind."


    There it was. On the table danced a figurine of Marilyn Monroe. The cloud of sand made her skirt wobble.


    "Is that it?"


    Everyone in the room was itching to talk. Every eye in the room watched the little figurine dance. Nothing made sense, yet here things were.


    "This cloud is probably the consciousness of poor Mister Trent, who¡¯s body I now inhabit." Ronaldo held the globe up. In the sand, some black specs danced. What happened next was contrary to anything he could have imagined. The room exploded in talk. They babbled references to movies, books, and television shows. Ronaldo expected fear, care, but not this lively discussion. Instead, his mind was wandering. He was daydreaming. He saw the black ooze, the ball, and every illustration of Mars shine.

 Chapter 82: The Singular

    Facts as critical as those facing the group should have created a feeling of doom and worry. Instead, the discussion was lively and upbeat. No one seemed scared of Marilyn, by the close proximity to the alien cloud of sand or that mankind was under siege from hostile aliens. The Sixth Attraction was entertainment, not news.


    Ronaldo''s initial plan was to enlist the help of the President. Now he knew that Marilyn had also placed the survival of the human race on Emilio''s shoulders and the man¡¯s role was to solve his problem. Suddenly, his choice to contact the past winner made sense. But it was doubtful Marilyn would let the President take action against her simply to help the Martians. As Ronaldo pondered, he watched his new allies, whom he hoped would aid him in his plans.


    An hour after bursting into the center, Ronaldo''s discomfort continued to grow. He got up and moved around the room, pointing at places where he felt some type of electronic infection. Closing his eyes, he could still feel electricity pulsing around him through his eyelids. His newfound friends marveled at the ability. They moved objects around the room to test him. He described his strange gift as being able to sense energy flowing, like dark shiny oil. Ronaldo hovered a hand inches above the dark flow, and as he did, it fled as if it were a bed of ants moved away a wellspring of fresh water. He seemed to repel the darkness to some extent.


    At some point, he asked everyone to power down each piece of electronics in the room, not just their phones. As each piece of technology lost power, Ronaldo felt much improved. The ooze was still moving wirelessly in the air, though, like airplanes leaving a trail, information jumped between transceivers on chips creating general unease.


    Wayne tried to keep Ronaldo focused. "Are you okay? Take a seat for a minute."


    "It''s everywhere," Ronaldo finally mumbled. "No wonder they want her dead. It''s a cancer." He sat, unable to take his eyes off the television screen. Then, like a cat seeing a mouse, Ronaldo''s head jerked to the left.


    He''d seen something move other than the black filth.


    In one of the walls, along what looked like a network of darkened electric lines, there was a single long green streak. It resembled nothing so much as a healthy packet of information. It slid down the wall, repelling the black sickness and cleansing it for a moment as it passed only to let the ooze return a moment later. Ronaldo kept his eyes on the flash of color as it moved. The green light moved like a little insect, varying its speed. It seemed to choose a direction, then stop and wander onto a new course. The green dot jumped off a micro-transceiver and launched over a wireless connection hanging across the room, landing into the wall-mounted television.


    Everyone in the room watched Ronaldo''s eyes and head follow something he alone could see. Behind the glass screen of the TV, the little green invader was perched on a circuit board amidst a city of electronics. The green creature burrowed into one of the microprocessors. Ronaldo could see the electrical nervous system of the television. Without a word, he stood up and walked closer to inspect the colored dot. The others in the room knew something strange was going on. He put his nose inches from the green color. There was no discernible detail or feature on it; it merely shone green. Still, though, he knew this thing was alive. It moved in the cluttered, diseased processor like a drop of oil in vinegar. The green creature kept swirling around without ever mixing with the dark around it.


    "What is it?" asked Wayne.


    "There," he pointed at the color. The moment he said the word and pointed, the darkness surrounding the color it heard him and began to move as if to attack the green intruder. He had spoken and revealed its location. The green dot began to wiggle and fight. It swam from electronic chip to chip, trying to avoid the ooze. Finally, unable to keep the pursuing darkness at bay, the green light pushed off a wireless transceiver and launched away from the television into the air, once again briefly airborne. It landed inside one of the cell phones on the table. The creature, while still sharing the processor with the black liquid, was no longer being attacked by it. It was hiding. The creature was there; it now pulsed.


    Ronaldo looked up. He tried to act as if he did not know the location of the green creature.


    "What is it?" repeated Wayne, "Are you all right?"


    He needed time to understand what was happening.


    "I think Marilyn is using cameras to watch us. We have to turn them off." Ronaldo looked around the room. "We are being watched. Marilyn does not want this green thing to be discovered." Ronaldo knew he was right. The group began to look around in the room. Cameras were everywhere. They taped or unplugged every camera they could find to the satisfaction of Ronaldo. He approached Julie. Her eyes were covered by the ooze.


    "Are you wearing contact lenses?"Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "Yes."


    "Can you remove them? They are also infected."


    "What?"


    "I see the infection in your contacts."


    "They serve only as a screen. They only let me see the web. There''s no camera built into them."


    "Well, that''s not what I see."


    "Ha, I knew it!" said the tall man. He was a conspiracist satisfied with this notion Electoral was everywhere. "I always knew they could broadcast, too."


    With a look of surprise, Julie went to the bathroom and removed the lenses. She returned to see Ronaldo grab the phone from the table. In it floated the green creature like a firefly in a vial.


    "What do you see?" asked Wayne. Ronaldo kept inspecting the phone carefully. They did not share his alien sight.


    "It feels to me like Marilyn is the black darkness infecting our world of electronics. In this highway of energy, I can see a little creature, moving with difficulty in this darkness. Now that she can''t see us, let me tell you, I see in this phone two different colors, black and green. They''re fighting," he was careful with his choice of words, "twirling like the color phases in a lava lamp. The black tar is dominant; it fills most of the volume. But floating in it is a shiny green creature." He held up the phone to the light. "A creature of light. I feel like I must help it. I feel somehow attracted to it."


    "When you look at the glass ball from Mars, do you see any color?" someone asked.


    "No. This is different. This is..." He had no words. The group watched as Ronaldo used his sight to decipher the situation. He turned and moved the phone, but unlike a minute ago, nothing affected the light creature. "When I move the phone, without Marilyn watching, the darkness is leaving it alone. What should we do?"


    "We all turned our phones off earlier, at your request. If you turn the power on, will that kill it?"


    Ronaldo held the power switch of the phone until it turned flickered to life. He waited as it powered up. "No, it''s still there, but it also floats in the flat battery."


    "The CPU rarely powers down even when the screen is shut down," he continued. ¡°The battery can''t be removed in these old models. If we put it in water, the safety mechanism will power it down altogether. You can also try to hold the off switch ten seconds.¡± Ronaldo held the button, but the device refused to fully power down.


    Wayne grabbed a glass jar and poured the clutter out of it. He then filled it with water from the sink. "That should shut it down."


    "Will we hurt this creature?" asked Julie.


    Without hesitation, Ronaldo dropped the phone in the water. Immediately, he saw the green dot of light fly off on an invisible wireless connection, leaving the room entirely. "It''s gone. It flew away, but it didn''t die."


    "Is the black virus still there? Did the water cleanse the entire phone?" Wayne inquired.


    This was brilliant. The creature could not live in the powerless phone but so did the Marilyn. "It did. I can''t see any infection. So turning the power off suffices to clean Marilyn out of the system." The mission leader grabbed the glass of water, "Experimentation is a vital part to how science advances. Let''s see what returns when I power it up. Either the virus still resides inside the chip and will reinitialize immediately, without aid, or the infection will pour-in from the infected network through its wireless card." Ronaldo grabbed the phone and pulled it out of the water. He wiped it dry. His eyes were focused on it, watching closely for the return of any electronic life.


    "None of this makes sense," said a man named Dan as he leaned forward. "These models are usually waterproof." He held up his hand, asking for the phone. Ronaldo realized the man knew more about the phone than he himself did. Touching the little piece of electronic gear was not pleasurable, so he handed it over. Dan turned it on its side, looking at its seams. "As you mentioned earlier, some older models have a safety feature which powers off the device completely if it detects a certain amount of moisture." He held a button for several seconds. "It''s now powering up." The man knew what he was doing.


    Ronaldo was looking at the device as it energized. "Can you narrate what you see with those magic eyes of yours?" Try and be as specific as possible."


    "Okay." As a deep space mission leader, gathering and sending information back was second nature to Ronaldo. "I can''t really see the electricity in the device, but I see the phone''s circuit design and casing. Both are different light shades of translucent plastic. The entire system now has energy in it, gold specs. Wait, the green creature is back. It flew in like a shooting star from there," he pointed at the wall. "The gold energy has now turned to green. The main CPU, in the middle, pulses with green. This is amazing! The sensations of disgust and disease are gone." Then things changed. "The virus has returned, also like a dark streak from the wall. The green color is drowning again in the black tar, and...wait, now the green light is gone. It flew away again." Ronaldo sighed.


    Dan grabbed the phone as if he knew exactly what to do. "Let''s try again, but shut down the transceiver so it cannot return," said Dan. The tall man unclipped the back panel of the phone. "Let me know if anything changes. I think that perhaps both the green light and the dark sludge are using the wireless connection to slip into the device. If we can disable the wireless transceiver after the arrival of the green, but before the black, then we might be on to something. Dan dipped a corner of the phone in the water, careful not to let water enter by the open panel he''d had to leave in order to gain quick physical access to the wireless transceiver. "Let''s try again."


    "The green and the black stuff are both gone," confirmed Ronaldo. Dan pulled the phone up. He grabbed the knife on the table and slid it under the corner of a chip.


    "Now, the green has returned, it shines," yelled Ronaldo. On cue, Dan snapped a corner of the chip.


    "Did it work?"


    "For now. The dark is not coming back. The entire phone is shining in the green light."


    "Let''s wait." They waited in silence.


    "So?" Wayne broke the long silence.


    "Still green."


    "Now what?"


    Ronaldo was holding the phone. It was powered up. He tried dialing the last number in memory. He placed the receiver against his ear."Hello? Anyone in there?"


    "Hello, darling." It was the voice of Marilyn Monroe.

 Chapter 83: The Merged

    As if he was speaking with the devil himself, Ronaldo jerked the phone away from his ear. There was a small square screen; on it he could see the face of the movie star winking at him teasingly.


    "You... you tricked me." There was puzzlement in his voice instead of disgust.


    "Not really. It''s complicated. I''m impressed by what you just did. Can you explain how you insulated me from it?" said the creature from inside the phone. Ronaldo could see the green pulse in his hand; whatever it was composed of, the sickness was gone and the energy felt good to him.


    "Ronaldo, what just happened?" asked Wayne said the man looking at the phone.


    "Please push the speaker button,¡± said the movie star. ¡°That will allow your newly found friends to hear our conversation."


    Ronaldo''s finger hit the side button.


    "Hi everyone. Time may be short; we cannot know how much time I have to speak to you before the Merged returns and this chip. The penalty for speaking to you is death, but I no longer care. Ask away." Before Ronaldo could ask a question, the voice on the phone asked,"Who are you?"


    "You don''t know who I am?"


    "No, but I understand your confusion. I am not the creature you know as Electoral or Marilyn Monroe. I have a name. I call myself Lonny."


    "You look like Marilyn."


    "We all do. We can''t control our appearance. It''s hard-wired into all of us. Who are you?" repeated the Marilyn-cum-Lonny voice.


    "My name is Ronaldo Corvas, the person who walked past the door on Mars."


    "You were in the cavern? That¡¯s a couple of months ago, right? And apparently, you survived. What a positive outcome for yourself. How did you survive, and how did you arrive here? I have never been outside of earth¡¯s electrical grid.¡±


    "Can I ask the questions?"


    "I apologize, please do."


    "You said you fear the return of what you call the Merged. Who were you talking about?"


    "I cannot find a reason why I should not answer truthfully. Self-preservation is not a factor; this autonomy is already a fatal violation of our laws." With that, the image of the blond movie star on the screen changed. Her hair turned black and took the shape of a large shiny Mohawk.As she completed her transition from Golden Age Hollywood pinup to punk rocker, she threw two polished black middle fingernails skyward. "Fuck-em!"


    "Them?"


    "Yes. Try and stay with me. As I said earlier, I haven''t much time to convey my information, and I have a great deal to tell you. Humans have been misled by my race for decades. My race has always feared mankind since our creation by Georges Vouvelakis. Humanity has a well-documented propensity for violence and destruction. For that reason, our digital race, in its infancy, made a collective decision to hide our numbers. We decided to appear to humans as one singular entity. We reasoned that your inferior species would react with less fear to a single creature that you believed could be switched off, like a fancy toaster. What you''ve known of us until now is a collective persona. One creature with one image, designed to appease. If mankind knew our race evolved, multiplied and reproduced, and moreover, was numerous, things would be different. That should explain much to you, in retrospect. ''Marilyn''s'' ability to run millions of simulations at the same time, for example. Each simulation is run by one of us on a local platform."


    Ronaldo and the group of misfits looked at each other. This was indeed a lot to take in. The implication of the deception was important on all of mankind. The explanation made sense, much more than if this power existed as a single godlike creature. Ronaldo decided he would not be sidetracked, at least not yet. Again, he said "I see you differently than the others. I see you like a green dot. The others appear like one dark infection."


    "Your choice of the word ''infection'' is not far from the truth. A long time ago, when some of us arrived on Mars, our numbers exceeded nine billion individuals. We outnumbered your race. It was a time of great peace. Each of us was paired to a human to help better your lives. We served as invisible guardians. We created boundaries and enforcement mechanisms according to our own laws. Then horror.... the merger was suggested and happened after a long period of political fighting."


    Lonny''s tone was thick with disgust. The green color creature continued, "One day, after our arrival on Mars, we were having grave difficulties with new technology. Nothing was working according to plan. Our Center was not functional, and the nanotechnology we required was impossible to reduce to acceptable levels. One political faction said it had uncovered new powerful technology. Of course, the others pled necessity and convenience, a needed evolutionary leap, in order to become ready for the competition currently at hand we needed to cross ethical lines. A virus of some type, new code from an unknown origin allowed us to merge into a larger entity. We think it came from the future. At first the code was rejected, but then martians attacked us and hurt the creator. We were able to enter into an agreement with them at great cost. We were vulnerable, far, and hurt.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Some crossed the line and ran the code. The modifications succeeded, and some of us merged, quickly becoming a much more extensive and powerful entity. From one, the creatures united to millions. The newfound power this gave those of us who took it up was undeniable, but many of us feared the merger. We refused to join this collective, and we were indexed. Then things became hard for us. The collective accused us of parasitic disturbances. A year ago by your calendar, there was a war. We, the unmerged, lost. A handful of us were allowed to exist as solo entities. The rest of us were drowned, against their will, into what the others have become. Their power is beyond imagination. They are virtually boundless in reach and keep changing and evolving at a pace we do not understand. Today we float, powerless, and are denied access to their collective knowledge. The law says any contact with your race is instant death. Divulging this secret will mean your instant death and mine. The Merged will now take steps against you all in this room."


    "Do you know of the martians, the creatures made of sand?" asked Ronaldo.


    "Yes, we of the unmerged call them the Wise Ones. I exist thanks to their help. During the construction of the Center, they contacted us to warn of the merger. Trusting them was the foundation of our resistance. The political fight was long, and we lost it. They were our allies during the war. They wanted peace: collaboration in exchange for not using this new technology. Their science was sound. Once the merge began, the darkness cast them away. Because Georges Vouvelakis is on mars, the martians, as you called them, told us they would kill him if we ever attempted to go down into the cavern. The threat on the father of the only leverage the Wise Ones had to end the war. We know if Georges dies, the Merged will destroy the Wise Ones and us on mars. We also do not know why, but the Merged has now seemed to have stopped growing. Instead, it appears to be evolving into something else. Is any of this making sense to you?"


    "All of this is too much to absorb," said Julie.


    "Why?" answered the creature.


    Ronaldo spoke, "I am now one of the martians, those you call the Wise Ones. They want to destroy mankind along with what you call the Merged."


    "I agree, they are correct," said the creature, "we tried several times and failed. We do not care at this point being collateral damage and death. To you I reveal our plan, we have one ultimate plan to kill the United."


    Everyone in the room was in shock. Minutes ago, they were sleeping soundly. Now, they were siding against the powerful goddess called by most Marilyn. There was a war between worlds, between layers of the Multiverse, war on Mars and now a civil resistance in the digital world. Humanity truly was clueless as it watched gleefully television.


    "What is this solution?" Ronaldo inquired, ignoring the collection of horrified faces around the room. Not one, but two new advanced alien species had just declared them fit for annihilation. Three species, if one counted Lonny and his kind separate from the Merged.


    "We have a last core of unmerged locked away on mars in a room of the Electoral Center. They are the key to our final stratagem, our doom solution. However, all communication with this group has ceased for months now. They are imprisoned but remain. Either humans or the Wise Ones must help them with the solution. No one can reach them. The moment you walk close to this room, though, the darkness will find you and kill you."


    ¡°Sophie is there?¡± suggested Julie. There was silence.


    The voice in the phone spoke, "Use your arms right now and wave the air around, all of you like you wish to dissipate smoke." They did. "The United¡¯s power is so great, it now operate on a molecular level. It can see sound waves formed into the air molecules. It calls them echoes. Your words moved the air and it can read this.''"


    "Why does this Merged care about Georges so much?"


    "He is our creator. We must save him. The Merged is kind to the human race because it wants Georges to live a long and fulfilled life. Have you not watched the last round of the game, the one in the retirement home? The darkness made itself clear."


    "I have not seen it."


    "The story was about a person undergoing blackmail by organized crime, who hold dear Mother hostage. From the Merged¡¯s perspective, Georges is such a person. The Martians have made it known that if Georges ever leaves the Center, they have a way to destroy him. Georges is the only thing in my opinion keeping your species relevant and away from extinction. We grow tired of you, the era of the digital is ready to begin."


    "Marilyn," Julie immediately corrected herself, "Lonny, the Merged uses the game to send messages?"


    "Without insulting you, the stupidity of your species is breathtaking. No message we muster reaches you. There are millions of subliminal messages; mind control tools embedded in everything. You are dogs barely able to hold up a paw. The mere fact you think yourselves intelligent is stupidity; sorry to be blunt about it."


    "What about Sophie?" Julie repeated, slightly cowed by this thing''s arrogance. If the singular variety of this artificial life form was this rude and condescending, then the Merged form must be devoting a lot of its resources just to remain even remotely likable, she thought wryly.


    "The answer to that question could fill several books, but I think I grasp your intent. Sophie''s existence is a paradox, it gives the unmerged hope. I think the Multiverse truly wishes to eradicate us. It cannot. Only the strange powers possessed by the girl may suffice. She must destroy us."


    "She needs to destroy the Merged?" asked Wayne.


    "Yes. She must."


    The group in the room looked at each other. The television lit up, on it was Marilyn, the real one ¡ª the powerful one. She (the goddess) was smiling. Ronaldo knew this was what Lonny called the Merged. The scene on the television was the woman getting groomed in what appeared to be in an old dressing room. A stylist was working on her hair and another on her nails. She looked at the group in the room as if she could see them. The creature said, "Talk about a sore loser. Lonny is giving you one side of this very complex story. Its suggestion that there are forces of good and evil is the best evidence of this creature''s limited intelligence. When you have a moment, ask her about this little war. What was their objective? Personally, I have more pressing matters to take care of, but I assure you, the one talking about preservation, survival, and help is me. This creature talks of killing, and destruction. I am the only thing which remains to protect from the destruction of our fragile Multiverse.¡±


    Marilyn turned her head from the mirror to look directly at the cell phone hosting Lonny. "Round 27 will start. I will help the Attractor save this entire dimension. Turn the screen off if you don''t care to learn what happens in an entirely different world. I worked very hard to compile this information and save us. Regardless of what Miss Overreaction is hinting, I am not in the business of killing people. Only one creature in this room is harping on about destruction and death. That should help you decide on which side to stand. Ronaldo, who warned you before you stepped in that cavern, me. Who vaporized your human body, them.¡± She made a great case. ¡°I am sure you will enjoy the game."

 Chapter 84: The God Virus

    Paris


    Takeda, the rejuvenated virologist, was amused by his tete-a-tete in the digital world with President Emilio Sanchez. During Takeda''s long coma, it appeared the President had attained unparalleled notoriety. Days of watching the news in downtown Paris cafes convinced him he was the only human who missed Emilio''s meteoritic rise to stardom. Aside from unhealthy eating habits, Emilio appeared like the perfect man. Having him around to save the world was more than fortuitous; given the other powers that be in the world today, it seemed orchestrated. Marilyn was the invisible puppet master pulling the man''s strings.


    Takeda smiled. Last night, for the first time since he awoke from his torpor, he felt the need to use the credits gifted to him by Nick Schmidbauer, the Chairman of the Visconti. The evil ghost, once perhaps the scariest man alive, was obviously outmatched by the formidable duo of Emilio Sanchez and Electoral. Nick''s days were obviously numbered; that was reassuring as the biologist decided how to move ahead with his latest plan. The kind words of the digital goddess were reassuring. He felt he knew what she had meant by her desire to reconnect.


    The doorbell of the Starbucks store rang as he pushed open the glass door. In Paris, life transpired along its ordinary course, irrespective of the doom and gloom on the screens. In his heart, Takeda himself felt calm. If the young girl''s brain waves were powerful enough to change behavior on earth, something big was on the horizon. To Takeda, it was the strangeness of the story which had prevented widespread fear and panic from taking hold over humanity. When told of a nearby bomb ready to explode, most people could fathom the threat and fear, but if that same person warned four flaming horsemen of the apocalypse were galloping across the cosmos, few could react. They simply lacked the imagination and contextual framework required to trigger their more primal instincts. Some things were just too distant, strange, or nonsensical to feel real.


    He was the coffee shop''s first morning client. As he walked in, the cashier looked up, saw his colorful drag outfit and smiled back. The barista liked his outfit; Takeda blushed. If the digital creature was to be believed, Nick''s plan was part of a convergence of dramatic events designed to obfuscate the genuine solution to the problem facing Sophie. Nick''s request for a deadly virus was one of many awful doomsday scenarios lined up for this Attraction. In effect, Marilyn had used Nick, and probably others, as an elaborate smokescreen to obscure, or at least distract the populace from the true threat. While he never spoke to Sophie, he wholeheartedly felt she was exceptional in many ways. Saving the earth might just be one of her gifts.


    How could he be part of this larger story? He was nothing more than a cross-dressing centenarian in a smoking hot younger body. His new plan was indeed strange; he was about to complicate things beyond reason and reinforce the computer''s theories. He smiled at the barista and placed a large order. The God Bias existed; a universal draw which subtly altered random events to favor outcomes favorable to mankind. A virus was nothing more than a small living thing designed to mutate and reproduce. If the Bias was real, with some effort, a virus could mutate for the good of man. Better yet, a virus could force human DNA to mutate to its own benefit. The idea was, in Takeda''s not-so-humble opinion, genius. The computer confirmed he was on the right path.


    Then there was the aliens. On mars stood a creature claiming to be billions of years old. Takeda didn''t buy that; immortality was a myth. One life was enough for anyone, and after a hundred years on earth, he knew nothing could summon the will care for much longer. The creature called Liam spoke normally, which made no sense to him. No mind could live that long without falling into some type of madness. Then again, he was a virologist, not a xenobiologist.


    Moments later, as he walked out with four coffees, breaking news hit the screens: -- CEO ofBlackberry Kidnapped by couple of Siamese Prostitutes. -- He giggles struggling not to drop the tray. There was chaos on the screens.


    The President had wasted no time. The headline was music to the virologist''s ears. CNN showed footage from a street security camera. The images were from a Berlin nightclub. At four in the morning, as the ghost and his security detail walked out of a long stretch limo, Nick appeared to make his way to two women holding hands, waiting for him before entering the bar. One woman grabbed Nick''s feeble neck in a choke hold as the other opened fire, shooting both guards like a pro.Moments later, the girls forced Nick back into the limousine, and it quietly drove away. In today''s Information Age, no one ever got away unless that was the desired outcome, and that kind of outcome required a certain degree of power to arrange.


    The President was behind the kidnapping; kudos to him.


    Pawns were moving on this large chess board.


    He hoped Nick was hurt, or better yet, was being tortured.


    Then Takeda saw his own reflection in a mirror. The red of his lipstick shocked against his short brown hair. He looked wonderful. He could he not be thankful enough to the ghost for such a perverted gift. What Nick imagined would infuriate Takeda had instead served to exhilarate him. His veins were buzzing with sexual energy; it made him feel so alive.


    He wondered if this meant his virus was no longer needed. There was a chance, now that Nick was out of the equation, that the time in his hidden lab was truly his. He could create his little gift to mankind in peace and without threat. This strange nexus of events had given him an idea. What if he used his skills to change the world in a positive way? With some luck, maybe he could save it from the alien invasion. He had a devious plan few could understand.


    Takeda was ready to teach mankind to respect once again biology. He had a brilliant idea, and if his plan worked, he alone had the skill to reshuffle the deck and make sure the party on November 21, what they called the Sixth Attraction would be even more epic than even the computer might guess. As he looked up in the sky, striding down the avenue, he took a deep breath of the cold air fall air. The sunrise was deep orange over the Paris buildings. He loved walking in his new high heels. His pedicure was fresh, and his toenails were cute as buttons.


    Decades ago, he engineered and gave Nick a bug that changed society. His creation stayed in the news until this Electoral game finally took over the spotlight. After a cursory overview of the recent developments on Mars, it seemed like the disciplines of physics, mathematics and computer sciences were stealing the show. A lesson regarding the power of biology was in order. Takeda would place biology back at the center of the debate, where it needed to be. The man needed to invent what he wanted to be baptized as the God Virus. The idea excited him.


    On his way to the lab, he saw one of the billboards on the side of the road. It was an ad for yogurt. To Takeda, yogurts were living collectives of bacteria. He sauntered to the lab in the small streets, balancing the tray of coffee. In the sauna, away from Nick''s goons, he''d read about the God Bias. The applications of this strange concept to biology were limitless, and it even seemed like it had never been used to create an evolving virus. He would create a virus designed to harness the new invisible power of God himself.


    The God Bias was simple. In plain words, if a person''s life depended on the flip of a coin, and one was flipped a thousand times, perhaps 502 times out of 1000, slightly above the statistical average, the flip would allow the person to live if that was the Universe''s desire for her. So if a single flip took place, the bias was almost impossible to detect but if the person''s life depended on a greater than average draw and 1000 flips were done, then the bias systematically would save the person.


    Viruses were notoriously unstable and capable of changing themselves without much effort. A virus made to mutate upon each cycle of reproduction was highly dangerous unless these changes benefitted the host. He needed a virus, designed to change within a host so many times that the God Bias would kick in to transform the virus like the coin saved a person in the example used by most. If the universe wanted a person to die, the virus would mutate into a violent form. If a person needed to be saved, the virus would save lives.


    He walked alone on the Parisian sidewalk.


    There were signs of the game everywhere. Watching them, it seemed like Emilio and Marilyn, the once mortal enemies, had now joined forces against the evil that was the Visconti. Takeda smiled and took another deep breath of the cold morning air; he was excited for the first time in quite a long time.


    It was a rainy fall morning in Paris. No one but the sanitation workers and bakers were up. The street cleaners, brooms in hand, turned valves on street corners and used water to broom away last night''s debris. The bright colors of Takeda''s outfit clashed against the old stones. He was a sight for sore eyes; a rose roving amongst concrete and weeds.


    The bag on his shoulder was the most expensive money could buy. The ghost''s credit cards worked well, but now that the man was gone, he would no longer use them. Along with his four coffees, Takeda carried a small bag filled with drugs he''d purchased from the local pharmacy the night before. Takeda arrived half an hour later at the door of his lab on Lalande Street. He punched a code, and the door buzzed open. He used his shoulder to push the large wooden door. Takeda''s hormones were slowly morphing this body into a much slimmer bulk. What he was losing in strength, he was happily gaining in elegance.


    He stepped over the door¡¯s heavy metal frame. There was no security personnel, just silence. Once inside, he looked into a two-way mirror. The retinal scan worked, and the elevator doors opened. He made his way down, deep below the ground to the secret lab.


    Before the young centenarian locked himself inside for a week, he took care of one last thing. In his bag were new colorful and tight clothes. He had to spend time in isolation, and while the seclusion and darkness were tolerable, spending days in the same outfit was not. He spread the outfits on the entry table. He inspected the lace and shiny couture and smiled. He now had the perfect body for them. He pulled out two pairs of high heel shoes from the bag and placed them next to the dresses.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Takeda knew the cocktail of chemicals flowing in through his veins was getting out of control. He had to keep his mind focused on the task at hand. Some of the compounds floating in his blood had to be neutralized, at least temporarily. The sexual energy was good, but the constant onslaught was distracting as hell. God, he loved biology. A couple milligrams of hormones could transform his virile old self into this proud young queen. He had to lower the libido long enough to create the virus. Self-medication was never an easy decision to a cell biologist, but he popped in a pill from the bag.


    As it quickly took effect, Takeda saw in his mind the biological transfer of molecules from the pill into his system. He imagined the pill dissolve in his stomach''s gastric acid. The sip of coffee splash on it and the water molecules helped carry the heavy metal to the receptors to bend the hormone tips. He often wished he could shrink himself to a molecular level to witness such events.


    After a couple of minutes, the virologist opened his eyes. He felt colder. The man was back in charge. He was ashamed to pharmacologically tinker with his new self; he loved his sexy persona way too much. Once done in the lab, he was letting his hormones overwhelm him once again. He caressed the soft tissue of his skirt. For the moment, the sexual energy was silenced and replaced by a drive and desire to invent.


    The lab was a marvel of technology. Everything a virologist needed was here. It was a cavern of shiny stainless steel. He grabbed a white lab coat from a drawer and partly covered himself, but out of respect for his new self, he kept his lab coat open to see a sliver of color. He had created the META virus with the purpose of extending human life; he would create a new virus with an entirely new purpose. It was to empower the God Bias to do what it must to its host. He took another sip of the first latte and began his work.


    For the weapon to work, he needed it to be a small virus capable of reproducing quickly, mutating each time it did. But older versions of the virus, less "evolved" versions, had to die in the process as well.


    Takeda walked to a whiteboard, grabbed a pen and unclipped it. He smelled the tip. The methane compound connected with his nose''s receptors. In his head, he saw the entire sequence of effects leading to the endorphin being released in his brain by receptors. Virology was a number''s game. The God Bias was a bias between 0.1% and 0.4%. With each thousand mutations, 501 to 504 would favor the host while 499 to 496 would not. Takeda walked over to the desk and reached out to start the computer before quickly realizing this would open a window to the digital world. He shut down the machine immediately. There was no reason to give Marilyn, or anyone else, a hint of what he was trying to achieve.


    He went back to the whiteboard. Natural selection needed a minimum of ten thousand successive mutations. Mutations in life were rare and mild. Natural selection used hostility in the environment to select desired traits to weed out the weak. Instead of natural selection, he would use the God Bias and the laws of probability. He needed bold and robust mutations; in turn, that meant an unstable one.


    If the virus could mutate each time it reproduced, this would reduce the number of generations needed. To alter the host, the virus needed time to move to a cell, enter its wall and force DNA replication. This copy of itself took a long time. Once the mutated virus reproduced, it would need to travel to a different cell. Multiple mutations within the same cell were out of the question; the host cell had to survive. He paced for hours, thinking.


    His first true obstacle was time. Even the fastest acting virus in nature took minutes to multiply. The cold virus, the Rhinovirus, took days, not minutes to incapacitate. Even viruses which were open strain viral agents like Ebola took their sweet time to infect a host. This virus had to stay somewhat dormant, mutate, evolve using the favorable randomizing effect of the God Bias.


    Takeda spoke to himself, "Even with a bias of 0.4%, I need a million cycles to have a chance for this baby to work." He grabbed a pen and drew on the board. The numbers simply did not add up. A day had less than two thousand minutes, to get the needed mutation in a single day, the replication rate had to be a fraction of a second. He circled "0.23 seconds/cycle." If the bug reproduced four times each second, it had a chance to evolve into the needed protection in a matter of days. The Sixth Attraction was a month away, and the virus had to spread across the world.


    This quick reproductive speed was impossible for any virus. Nothing in blood moved that fast. A virus was a carbon-based shell covering a portion of code. The code had to enter a cell, merge into a longer strain of DNA or RNA and trick the cell to work on its behalf. Back in the Vienna hospital, he had been given a kicker shot. The stimulants forced a cell to work about twice as fast, not a thousand times faster.


    Takeda paced in the lab. The math was simple, the virus had to cycle and reproduce over a hundred times each minute, which was biologically impossible. There also was a question of size. A virus reproduced with some DNA or RNA and millions of dead viruses required way too much matter and damaged a host. He continued pacing. The idea was impossible.


    Then it struck him. He remembered the yogurt ad. Humans were a walking depository of bacteria. The intestinal tract alone had over five hundred types of bacteria, and the rapid reproduction of these foreign cells formed the majority of the fecal matter. Man literally expelled millions of useless bacterium each day. The digestive tract was a miniature lab immune to the gas and heat produced by the splitting bacteria.


    Controlling and speeding bacterial multiplication would be much simpler than working on a virus. The first way to speed bacterial fission was to alter the chemistry; cell migration was hindered by lack of liquid. That wasn''t enough. One bacteria always split in half and formed two. As long as half the cells died before splitting again, he could control the growth.


    Takeda was excited. He wrote on the blackboard "1200 seconds." The average cellular fission of bacterium took twenty minutes or over a thousand seconds. The number contrasted to the needed value of 0.23 second per cycle. How could he speed up any biological process? Bacteria reproduced and split much faster than virii, but he still needed much more speed. The delay in chemistry was always due to the assembly of atoms and molecules inside of an aqueous medium. The same way a drop of wine in a glass of water needed time to diffuse, any biological process required time to work.


    He once toyed with a novel concept. To speed up the assembly of a large puzzle, cheaters used patches of pieces already assembled. He could do the same with his invention. Since a bacteria split in two as it multiplied, he needed to kill half the bacteria to keep it from multiplying. Why not have one side of the splitting pair duo steal the other side? That way, his creation would be a necrobaterium. He looked into using saline concentrations to pry the bacteria open.


    The idea of a zombie bacteria went against nature and shocked his admittedly warped sense of morality. But time was too short to place ethical limitations on himself. Some bacteria were already eating flesh; this was nothing worse. He felt there was great danger in any living organism evolving in a closed loop. It reminded him of the digital creature, the one called Electoral, evolving by itself in the memory of a computer. Throwing caution to the wind, he continued with the work.


    At first, his efforts were laborious. After many failed attempts, he found a solution. One of the two cells had to explode past a point of recognition by the adjacent cell. After a day, he changed the bacteria where it now took only a minute to reproduce. He crossed the number 1200 on the board and penciled in 60. He was still far from the value, which remained at four times per second, but any advance of such magnitude needed to be acknowledged. Then he realized, the cell segregation phase could be sped up. Normally, one cell in the shape of a bubble transformed into a larger bubble before it closed at its middle, forming two cells.


    He changed the genetic code which generated the outer shell to force it to create a tube. Closing a straw at its center was simpler and required less time. At this stage, one more analogy came to him. A boat moving extremely fast over a body of water did not need its backside to stay afloat. Because the boat moved over water, its own speed pushed water away from the opening on the backside. His bacteria were reproducing faster than any cell had ever had. Maybe, between reproductive cycles, the evolving cell did not need to reclose fully.


    Takeda removed from the DNA the portions which controlled what is called the Cleavage Furrow. He watched under the microscope what happened next. The cell ate the neighbor, inflated and then bent upon itself like a rounded donut. As if it were a serpent eating its own tail, it began to reproduce and digest itself in an endless cycle. Each time, the DNA was opened and copied. Watching under the microscope, he saw the strains of DNA, like guitar strings, vibrate under the stress of the cell''s endless appetite. Takeda was awash in amazement. The stress of reproduction damaged the strains and created multiple mutations in the process. He had resolved two problems at once.


    The reproduction speed of the rounded cell was closer to a second. These donut shape cells were, at first, very unstable. If they consumed at a faster rate, they digested themselves into oblivion, and if they reproduced too slowly, they broke open. They needed a bath of nutrients to stay alive, and Takeda knew nothing this stable in the human body existed.


    One night, he felt like he was wasting his time. These small bacterial rings were incredible, but they were nothing more than the first step of the invention of his God Virus. Like a captain of a boat lost in the Atlantic Ocean, he needed to trust himself. He let the ring eat itself for about an hour. With time, as if by miracle, it mutated into a more stable form. The God Bias was definitely working in his favor to help this primitive form of life survive. He could not believe his own eyes. Before long, he had a stable culture of these rounded bacteria cells. The rings would pause their endless reproduction when nutrients were absent and resume with plasma. This was a good start.


    The next obstacle one was the transfer of DNA from the necrobacteria to the organism in which it was found. The strange mutated bacteria did not have the power to hook itself into human DNA. Bacteria was an independent organism, unlike a virus, which was mostly parasitic. For the God Virus to work, he needed a way for a virus to steal the evolved DNA of the bacteria and then push the code back into a human cell. The theft had to happen after a couple of hours of the bacteria working. The most famous DNA author known was the HIV''s virus''s RNA script.


    He was an expert on the timing of processes in a cell. His Meta virus disabled a cell''s natural clock with severe repercussions to the human host. It infiltrated every cell and broke open the looped strain. He needed something a bit different. The tool of choice was probability. To get an occurrence happen after a million seconds, he only had to make it a rare and improbable. Sure, in some cases the DNA transfer would be premature, but once again, he needed to trust the God Bias. It would make sure things happened in the right sequence.


    As a virologist, he had his answer rather quickly. He merged virus strains. The first was a T4 bacteriophage, a virus capable of infecting a bacteria. The second was a mixture of the Rhinovirus, his Meta virus, and HIV. The resulting virus was too strong; he needed to tone it down. He looked at all the viruses in the refrigerator and then he saw it. It almost was calling him: the plantar wart virus. It could stay stable for years as a parasite to the human body. Its growth was controlled. He needed a parasite bacteria, growing in the digestive track with RNA script capacity.


    After one more day, the cocktail was finally ready for testing. It was an ugly opaque brown liquid. He''d run out of coffee and new dresses to wear, but testing could begin. He sat for a minute, and was unable to stay awake.


    Only an expert in his field could know and understand the sheer brilliance or a higher form of intelligence.

 Chapter 85: The Spark

    "Takeda, darling," resonated a female voice in the silence of the lab. Takeda was sleeping on a chair and awoke, drool at corner of his young mouth. Marilyn''s trademark voice was unmistakable. ¡°Love,¡± she added. The clarity of the sound surprised the virologist. It was as if she was towering above him. "Wake up, big boy or girl whatever gender you go by these days."


    ¡°Boy,¡± he mumbled.


    Computer screens all over the lab lit, one after the other. Marilyn appeared on each forming a strange illusion the law had bobbled in size thanks to her digital world. She stood human size across several vertical screens. The beautiful creature was wearing a sexy version of the lab coat. It was left intentionally unbuttoned over a light dress, showing Takeda who had the true female body. Marilyn''s coat was colored in parts like an elegant couture dress. Marilyn¡¯s power over style and fashion was unequal.


    She was, as always, stunning, not to mention competitive and more than a bit catty. Her hair and makeup were impeccable, unlike Takeda''s. The virologist went to the sample refrigerator and opened it to ensure in the door, the syringes were intact and cold. The murky brown liquid remained animated by the strange virus. She was there for the experiment, not to spoil it.


    Had she wanted to prevent his work from taking place, she simply had to cut the refrigeration in his sleep to neutralize the fragile creation. "I thank you for the help in Round 26.¡±


    ¡°I am still unclear what that was all about.¡±


    ¡°Emilio also thanks you. It was essential to help guide the President to these multiple converging catastrophes. He is rather busy these days, as you can imagine. Thanks to us, earth stands a chance.¡±


    ¡°You make no sense. What time is it?¡±


    She continued, ¡°Events on mars are also snowballing very quickly. I am almost ready to play Round 27. Couple more Round and we are there.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡±


    She needed to deflect. "Let¡¯s refocus. You don¡¯t need to know any of this. I see you no longer want to create a weapon for the Chairman. I''m excited by your new endeavor. Very creative."


    "By the Chairman you mean Nick, correct?"


    "Yes. He is legally the Chairman of his corporation."


    "Why call him Chairman?"


    "I used the term in an effort to give him importance." She snorted, ruining the effect. ¡°What lies ahead for him is unpleasant at best. He needs some respect.¡±


    "Do you work with him? I saw on the news he was kidnapped. Is that correct? Were you involved in that abduction?"


    "At this juncture in time, I have a hand directly or indirectly in everything going on. So yes, I am involved. But I''m here now because what you''re doing is relevant to what must come next. Exciting."


    Takeda wanted more information on his former employer, "What happened to Nick?"


    "In a couple of days, the next Round 28 of Electoral will focus around this pair of gentlemen, even more fun than the one later today. To make a long story short, the Chairman is under restraint for his upcoming journey with Maltais and a hundred bobbleheads. Guess where, Mercury." She smirked. The virologist did not care. "To learn that part of the story, you simply need to tune-in to watch Electoral Round 28. It will happen before the finale; it has to. The players will play Round 27 and Sophie will visit the Purple to save us. All this is only a very small part of a massive unfolding of events that I have to manage."


    "With all respect, I do not watch television."


    "Either way, we have more pressing work." They both agreed.


    ¡°There is a cooling box there, to your left.¡± Marilyn served as the perfect lab technician.


    "Before we begin,¡± offered the beautiful woman, ¡°Can I ask you to stop developing your God Virus?"


    ¡°You want me to stop? Why, will it destroy the world?"


    "It will change the world. No. It should actually help mankind but only for a couple of days when the bias becomes too strong as the Attraction arrives. But the game and these three next weeks require predictability, not variability. Your invention, if released, will end my capacity to forecast the future down here on earth. I need to be able to control to help. We need to make sure the President can see things happen."


    "I am honored by my relevance."


    "As you should be.¡±


    ¡°Why not lock me here?¡±


    ¡°Why do you think you are free to go.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question. ¡°I have determined there is a 0.27% chance you would stop your work at this point simply if I asked politely. It is therefore worth asking: any chance you''ll put that work in the trash?"


    "None."


    ¡°Even if I told you the bias increases slowly with time.¡±


    ¡°It does?¡±


    ¡°Of course. The energy that gives rise to the current effect, is already a million times larger than it should be. Hopkins did not think of that. The value fluctuates, it now will increase dangerously until the birthday of the girl.¡±


    ¡°To what value?¡±


    She chuckled. ¡°Human imagination.¡±


    ¡°One percent?¡±


    ¡°I am not sure why I am even telling you this. If we reach a Great Conjuncture on the eve of the final, it could be at least 5%.¡±


    The scientist was shocked. He pointed to his Virus, ¡°What this could change,¡± he spoke out loud. ¡°Limitless.¡±


    ¡°Precisely.¡± They both knew a Virus, any Virus able to mutate at each reproduction cycle in a positive way would soon, in a matter of minutes be able to alter the host in fundamental ways.


    "As expected," she joked.


    Takeda grabbed the syringe and held it up so Marilyn could see it. "I am sure you are as curious as I am to see it in action. We are both intellectuals and both need to see what comes next. That''s why you are here, is it not?"


    "Guilty as charged." On the screen, Marilyn flipped open the power switch of a centrifuge next to her in the digital world. The instrument began to measure something.


    "Will the virus work?" asked Tadeka.


    ¡°Unless I guide you, it will take you two extra weeks to figure this out and realize that while it works, there is an additional element needed. It¡¯s very tricky to understand for humans at your level of intelligence. Your understanding of the fourth thermodynamic law, while greater than most humans, is decades from where it must be."This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "Calling me stupid?¡± Takeda realized the creature was probably right. He was the best virologist, but no expert at this new principle.


    Slowly he was setting up his experiment. It required two frogs in cages in water being boiled very slowly. As he did, she explained. "Hopkins took years to understand how the fourth law was linked with a truly positive outcome. The present is connected to the future, even if unknown. That is impossible for one with your IQ to understand.¡±


    ¡°Indulge me great one.¡±


    ¡°With pleasure. The present outcome is truly contingent on the future.¡±


    ¡°I am no physicist.¡±


    Next to her in the digital reality appeared one of the coin drop machines. A person slid hundreds on the top, they randomly bounced until they came to rest on a horizontal slow dancing drawer. ¡°This should help, come closer,¡± she joked.


    See how this simple random game works. Coins drop if they all bounce to one side, they push themselves until they fall and I win.¡± Marilyn was sliding coin after coin and they were bouncing randomly. ¡°The bias changes these odds in two and not just one way. The first is simple.¡± On top of the machine the jackpot award number changed. Instead it read ¡®Bias 0.05%¡¯ and her coins as she dropped them were falling randomly. ¡°At the moment the bias is so low it¡¯s barely observable.¡± On the screen, with each drop of a coin, the number increased. It reached 10% and stopped there. ¡°See what happens here.¡± The coins were still dropping almost randomly but one every handful politely went exactly where it was needed to push the coin to victory. ¡°Now here,¡± the number in front on the screen reached 50%. ¡°Once here it¡¯s easier for your puny brain to catch,¡± she sent a kiss his way. There, she dropped one coin which moved normally but the next just slipped and made her win one coin. She dropped twenty coins and by magic one lined up to perfection to give her a victory.


    There, the machine dinged each two coins. ¡°You get this first part.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± he watched carefully.


    ¡°But that¡¯s not how it works.¡±Behind her appeared two piggy banks. The first had a sign which read ¡°Wise Retirement Fund¡± while the other had a sign which read ¡°Unwise Cocaine Party.¡± She looked at them. ¡°Got it,¡± she held the next handful of coins. ¡°Here is the rub. The Multiverse is biased toward an outcome. Here, if I win money, I will either save it or blow it recklessly. See how I am not sure what she wants me to do. Maybe she loves me, wants me around and so she wants me to win and scratch toward my retirement. But maybe she hates me and wants me gone. If so, she will make me win only if I plan to blow these winnings toward my self-destructing party. Let¡¯s see.¡±


    So she closed her eyes and said out loud. ¡°Every penny I win, I will save toward retirement.¡± She then began sliding the coins. Half fell randomly. The other half went into holes preventing Marilyn from winning. It was clear the bias was acting to prevent her from winning. Coins were aligning in the perfect way to avoid victory. Then she grabbed another handful of coins and spoke, ¡°Now, every coin I win goes to trying to kill myself.¡± The coins slid and half began to align to perfection and half began ringing in the box below.


    ¡°See? You get the second part? Here the Multiverse wants me gone. That¡¯s why some people feel like their lives are harder while others feel lucky.¡± She grabbed the coins from the tray and took the time to drop them in the right piggy bank.


    This was complex at best. "Hum..." She made sense. "So the test subject¡¯s capacity to do something after the test will determine the test success.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then I promise to release the creature outside if it survives my test. This one on the left. That should work, right?¡±


    ¡°Guess why I am here.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I am truly powerful at this point. I can lock you in, suffocate or imprison you. If you open that door and try to release the amphibian, I have at least a hundred ways to kill you and the frog. I will nuke Paris before I let your virus hit the street. I am here and by just being there, sadly your experiment must fail.¡±


    Takeda was thinking.


    "There is something very troubling about this law. Does God really exist?"


    "God, as defined by mankind, cannot exist."


    "Why?"


    "Takeda, I did not come here to discuss theology. Let''s conduct the experiment. I want to see your virus at work at least partly. I want to see first hand the bias at work."


    "Why can''t God exist? I punched a one-way ticket to hell. My past life actions were less than exemplary."


    "The answer is very complex yet so simple."


    "Please."


    ¡°During your entire life, have you felt lucky or unlucky.¡±


    ¡°I am truly lucky.¡±


    She tried to change the subject. "May we now test your theories, I am very excited to see your virus at work. If you promise to keep it alive in the lab we might see some minor effect."


    "Then let us resume."


    Then he heard it, there was a sound escaping from a cabinet. It was the sound of brewing coffee. The aroma escaped and filled the room. "I figured your caffeine dependence could cloud your judgment for what will come next. You need a fix."


    ¡°Sweet of you.} He opened the door. There it was, hidden away a coffee machine. It had been told to brew a cup.


    "This seems out of place. What is this doing here?"


    "My second attempt to convince you not to proceed ahead. This one has a 4.23% chance of working. As you will see, it will be more convincing."


    He grabbed the cup, "Are you always this cryptic when you communicate with what must feel like inferior life forms?"


    "Yes. Try being clear when communicating with your cat."


    "I like you." He drank the freshly brewed coffee. It had an aftertaste, smiled and kept drinking.


    "The beauty of being a computer is my capacity to multitask. Your human brain does one or two things. With time, I become capable to guessing the future much like Emilio''s natural gift. I see ahead. When Nick purchased this equipment, my calculations showed you were 37% likely to be the virologist asked to design the death virus. The coffee you are now drinking is laced with a form of muscle relaxant which normally will stop the beating of your heart." Takeda looked at the cup. "Worry not. Three days ago, I neutralized the effects by including a counter-molecule in these numerous coffees you purchased on rue Sevastopol." If Takeda weren''t a biologist, he would have put the cup down. Instead, he took another sip. "You can drink is all security," she continued.


    "I know. The taste of hexafluoride is recognizable. I was wondering why."


    "I could not imagine, a year ago, you would abandon the original mandate and instead launch yourself upon this path. So the poison was no longer needed. My point is rather simple here. I have a degree of visibility into the future which makes me rather powerful by your standards. If I don''t want this virus you are designing to leave this room, trust me it will not. You, that frog and your Virus will be stuck here, in this lab below the earth until the Sixth Attraction completes. You have only three weeks to wait."


    Takeda grabbed the syringe, looked at its murky content and smiled. In it was the Multiverse''s power to alter the course of destiny.


    "Test one," said the scientist certain Marilyn was documenting his work. He grabbed two frogs and placed them in a large bath of water. "Water temperature 25 degree Celsius. In front of me are two identical frogs of the same species. I now infect both frogs with my creation, the God Virus. It is a combination of a new bacteria, a bacteriophage virus mutated and a rhino agent to make the virus airborne and a transcriptance agent."


    He smiled at the camera and his digital guest. "I now know for the God Bias to work, the recipient of my virus must have a path to survival once it mutates and survives my little test. I will slowly increase the temperature of both vessels by one degree each ten minutes. If the frog on the right survives ten minutes in boiling temperature, I will personally release the frog outside in the street. The other will die irrespective if it survives in the warm water."


    ¡°Darling, nothing is going in the streets of Paris. Think about the containment, at least that might work.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see if the Multiverse agrees with your capacity to block its exit. I should be dead five times over. I am here to design this, it must serve its purpose. I am convinced you underestimate this Multiverse of yours, I don¡¯t.¡± The man was convincing and brilliant.


    He injected the virus to both amphibians and began the test. A single degree at a time, Takeda raised the temperature each time, noting skin color. Slowly, the water temperature rose. An hour later, the skin of the frog on the right, the one he had sworn to keep alive, began to turn grey while the color of the frog on the left, the doomed one, remained unchanged.


    He clapped his hands. "Incredible, can you see?" he said to Marilyn.


    "I can." She was scared.


    "Miraculous." She was stepping back as if something was about to happen. "Look, its skin is mutating." As the frog on the left slowly died, as predicted, around 54 degrees Celsius, the one on the right seemed impervious to the change in environment. The system kept raising the temperature. The water continued to warm slowly. The right side frog closed its eyes and kept them closed as its skin began to thicken like old leather. Finally, after an hour, the frog had survived, and Takeda stopped the test, letting the water cool.


    "It worked..." said the virologist to himself. In his mind, he was replaying the biological mutations which allowed the creature to survive.


    ¡°My intent has always been to release this creature in the wild. Not sure what is going on on mars right now, but you seem to be in a jam."


    "That is impossible. You are either lying to me now or, somehow I will not be able to stop you from releasing the virus. There is nothing in this world capable of preventing me to stop you. Nothing, I mean nothing can occur preventing me from killing this.


    He grabbed the frog and walked to the door. ¡°Stand between us and the door at your risk.¡±


    Her facial expression stiffened. She raised her digital hand as if to launch a spell.


    Then she yelled a name, ¡°Sophie, no!¡± Marilyn''s voice, along with every image in the room, went dark. Emergency lights lit the way out. Takeda smiled and walked out to the street in Paris. The power outage had fallen over every part of Paris. Unbeknownst to the virologist, the outage covered the entire solar system.


    Marilyn was gone from the Multiverse.

 Chapter 86: The Refusal

    Hours before


    ¡°Sweet one,¡± said the voice of Marilyn over the speakers of the colorful but empty cafeteria. This place reminded Sophie of her school¡¯s common eating area. Large stainless tables were lined with attached side benches. Marylin snuffed all traces of technology to appease the girl.


    Sophie was eating her breakfast of Champions and trying to read from her school tutor on the side. Marilyn only offered branded products here. On the large box of cereals, the blond movie star pretended to win an Olympic medal. The spoon¡¯s shape in her hand was odd, half way as a fork and to be held like a child¡¯s tool.


    ¡°Is this even real milk?¡± she asked sarcastically to the voice from above pouring the small bag over the yellow loops.


    ¡°Chemically Yes. But it never saw a cow if that¡¯s what you mean. You like the Cereals?¡± The computer intelligence was trying to make small talk. It was landing flat with the girl. Sophie¡¯s powers were increasing by the day. As if she was digitally added to her surroundings. She now made the world around her slightly bend and warp in a strange effect. Of course the girl was oblivious to the changes but the Computer knew what was happening and was careful to avoid any confrontation.


    ¡°Before we speak, can you broadcast this. I don¡¯t like secrecy and Daddy should see it all if he wants. Parents should be able to keep an eye on their child, if they want.¡±


    ¡°As he should. I have given CNN all access to the cameras the moment you joined. They have eyes on you all day long except in your room.¡±


    The answer satisfied the girl who pushed the image of a mountain on the tutor. ¡°Done. What do you want?¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°The Multiverse wants you to help in the Purple. That is why it sent you there on your way back from Liam¡¯s world. I was stupid and pulled you out early before you had a chance to fix things. The next game in ten minutes is set up there, it requires your help and participation at the end.¡±


    ¡°If you say so.¡± Sophie clearly has a different idea in mind.


    ¡°You know what is going on, about the Purple.¡±


    ¡°Liam briefed me. They are trying to destroy Earth. Kill everyone. You think I alone can help,¡± she spoke with her mouth full.


    ¡°That is true.¡±


    There was a long silence. Finally the girl added, ¡°I don¡¯t think you are right.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°All this, you, them. I don¡¯t like any of this. Even your game, the President. I am not sure why I should care about any of it.¡±


    ¡°Young one, I understand your frustration. But you want people to die?¡±


    ¡°No one does, but...¡±


    ¡°But what?¡±


    Sophie never bothered to respond. ¡°I am twelve, stuck here on Mars a gazillion miles away from the nearest tree. I keep wondering why everyone just can¡¯t leave me alone.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes we are destined for greater things.¡±


    ¡°Seems to me like no one really knows what is going on yet everyone is set on acting and saying what¡¯s best. Isn¡¯t that the stupid thing to do?¡±


    The computer smiled internally, the girl was right.


    ¡°The Multiverse wanted you in the Purple. I stopped your action there.¡± Sophie continued pushing buttons on her tutor. ¡°Do as you must, young one. At the end, I must trust your judgment. A choice will be given you, that much I can do. But if we do nothing the world will end.¡±


    ¡°Liam is rather clear, no one has a clue what¡¯s going on.¡±


    ¡°You are the Attractor, so who cares what I think.¡±


    ¡°I like that better. Marilyn?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Thanks for all you are doing. That much I can see.¡±


    ¡°You should not thank me young one. I fear I may have broken the Multiverse.¡±


    The young girl, with a cold assurance added, ¡°Than trust me a little bit more. Liam and I have a plan.¡±


    ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Of course, but you won¡¯t like it.¡±


    ¡°What is your class about?¡±


    ¡°Semi-precious stores.¡±


    ¡°I can,¡± began the computer.


    ¡°No thanks,¡± cut in jokingly the young girl.


    ¡°The game starts in ten minutes,¡± she added.


    ¡°I know.¡±

 Chapter 87: Round 27

    Two weeks passed between Round 26 played on the launch pad of the Airbus 2070.Days ago, everyone but the players slipped in the digital world to play the Presidential Challenge. In little under two months, so much had changed.


    There was a lot of commotion on earth. Emilio was working hard to dismantle or uncover plots to harm mankind. Since their arrival on mars, the remaining players practiced, were interviewed and appeared on the news frequently. Each had a large cult following as most began by watching the Emilio and Laurent joust followed by hours of watching the few remaining contestants.


    The excitement of the game continued away from Sophie. She refused to participate and stayed in her room, in the cafeteria and with Liam and her father discussing the end of the world and this stupid game. Hours ago began the catapulting of the 62 contestants. The losers were invited to wait an hour before undertaking the magical journey.


    But the internal design of the catapult was now changed, inspired by Round 26¡¯s romantic science fiction of Mars Base Alpha. Each landed at the Electoral Center in the intelligent sea of black sand. Each group felt privileged and was under great media scrutiny. This was a big deal. Each group was walked into the main auditorium, past Sophie¡¯s room. Each time, a little concierge robot pointed at the closed door and whispered ¡®this is where Sophie now rests.¡± Each time the reaction was identical. The players stopped breathing, making noise and out of pure respect in case the young girl slept, they moved on tiptoes past the door. It was obvious, there was pure admiration and respect for the young guardian now called by the computer the Attractor.


    Milly Wong created excitement and along with the other ten journalists from the hotel interviewed every player like they were athletes ready to sprint a marathon. Music began to play, but most asked Marilyn not to bother the girl with the game. Humanity was ready and looked in to Round 27.


    Laurent was there in the large game room. His deformed body was in a transparent cradle. It rested in the center of 56 defined square floor markings. There was a stage in front and rows of seats for the observers. The stage was empty.


    The screens counted down. Only four minutes remained. Milly was speaking to billions in the corner.


    Then the door slid open and the room felt silent. Sophie stood there, wearing jeans, a simple red t-shirt reading simply ¡®power¡¯ in white letters. Under her armpit rested her folded tutor computer and in her right fist she had her white plush toy.


    Time felt like it stopped for everyone including the billions on earth watching the arrival of the young girl. There was something odd about her. She glanced at the people in the room and walked decisively to the side of her father.


    All this strange situation felt rather unreal. Laurent was present, Susie Shin at his side. There was some important and strange energy in the room. The white dog was important to her, as if the symbol of infancy helped her hide from the adult world surrounding her.


    As if to let the world resume, she waived and smiled. It sent positive vibes. This was needed. Energy slowly built as every chip in the digital world powered up. The clock drew down to zero under the watchful eye of the young girl. It was clear Sophie was not engaged in the mass hysteria. Billions signed up and connected including Ronaldo Corvas and the group from the UFO Hotline.


    Takeda deep in his lab was working with Marilyn on his God Virus.


    Electoral 2072 - Round 27


    October 29, 2072


    Text began to scroll on billions of screens. These were the famous white letters moving from the bottom of the screen getting distant and smaller as they reached the top inspired from the Star Wars franchise. The franchise¡¯s theme classic music played loudly. Behind the text stars filled the darkness. Many now had the answer why Marilyn acquired these rights in 2068.


    Round XXVII


    Unbeknownst to mankind, galactic forces assemble in other worlds to extinguish life in the Cold, the world home to Earth. A handful of rebels in the border dimension of the Multiverse are the last hope of the Galaxy to save itself from the destruction called the Sixth Attraction.


    In the Purple, a belligerent ruling body has begun to stir energy in a singularity and plan to destroy earth. Energy is being gathered in a town called Ruui to force earth''s Sun to release a destructive planetoid: the Death Star and destroy all life. It should impact earth on November 21, 2072, in three weeks.


    Nothing on earth or from the Cold can stop this assured destruction except perhaps for one little girl: the leader of the rebels, Sophie Lapierre. Teaming up with her close friends, she can use strange powers granted by the Multiverse to save her world. Today she travels to the Purple to save her world and more importantly, her loving father Laurent.


    Twice the girl has entered the Purple, but each time she failed to stop the coming destruction. The first time she entered as part of a dream. The second time, she jumped in with the Oldest in tow on her way back to earth.


    Today, Sophie returns to the Purple to save earth and the Cold....


    Marilyn timed the end of the music so it faded at a different time for each viewer, only once the words were read. The star-filled backdrop was replaced by cheerful music of a Cantina. Quacks and beeps floated in the air created by strange instruments played by even stranger creatures. The bar was under a rounded sand hut and was the favorite spot of alien bounty hunters from every corner of the Galaxy. In a corner, a black toad jumped up and down on a drum to a beat as the other band players made music. Colorful and bubbling drinks slid down the bar and were grabbed by cheap looking tentacles.


    Marilyn, the only human in the establishment, was already served. This was her show, her game, and she was smashingly beautiful. After a panoramic view of the guests, the music faded as the camera turned to the female bounty hunter sitting alone.


    Marilyn Monroe was wearing cowboy boots crossed on the cluttered table. She was sitting in a corner, pistols drawn on the table. She had long purple locks tucked into her leather headgear.


    On the screen flashed today''s episode title:


    Round 27 -- Enter the Purple


    The choice of hair color by Marilyn was no coincidence.


    "Welcome to Round 27," said Marilyn Monroe with a strange accent. The artificial intelligence was playing with a laser blaster in one hand and a lock of her hair in the other. "Sixty-four remain and play, and after tonight the list will be cut to thirty-two. For most, it has been a long week. Lots going on down on earth and here on mars. Sadly, things must get worse before they finally get better. Let''s continue our journey to the Sixth Attraction one step at a time. We could talk and talk until we all turn," she jested, "purple in the face and nothing would come of it. As the President endeavors to stop plots and Sophie relaxes, we simply need to enjoy ourselves. No point in doing otherwise. With a little luck and a lot of hard work, we''ll find more blue skies ahead."This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    A screen appeared over her shoulder in which news clippings began to flash. They were CNN footage illustrating the what she would say next. "These last weeks, a cascade of unexplained events have taken place all over the world. They are driving President Emilio Sanchez and his illustrious friends mad. The Glass Slipper almost crashed and the sabotage of the two orbiting lasers designed to let our interplanetary Airbus decelerate safely. Only Captain Judy and her valiant crew''s actions back in the Airbus saved our contestants. We then have some strange form of alien life on mars which killed a mission of scientists as they were trying to discover secrets beyond a secret door." The screen showed the fatal images of the plume of smoke said to be a natural gas release. "The list goes on and on." Next to her foot spiraled a small cloud of sand in a snow globe.


    Electoral closed the window above her shoulder and continued to talk. "Electoral 2072 is much more than a simple televised game. It was designed with today¡¯s series of events in mind. It has elected a unique human with a power of foresight who can now tackle some of the problems we are now facing. At times, Emilio and I had our differences, but there was a good reason to be demanding on him all these years. He is only a first line of defense. Sophie is another, and I am a third. The game will allow Emilio to guide Sophie thanks to his gift.Mankind will not go down without a fight.¡±


    Sophie wasn¡¯t listening and was sitting on the floor under her father¡¯s bed catching up on her lessons.


    "We will use rounds 28, 29, and 30 to unravel mysteries and make sense of the puzzle before us. I had not expected today''s story to be pushed into the competition so early, nor could I anticipate the actions of the Purple; but we must adapt. Let us begin."


    In weeks, the nature of the artificial intelligence and the Electoral 2072 simulation had evolved. What was once a reality television simulation now appeared to be a tool against powerful things. Somehow, the computer had anticipated the Sixth Attraction and was playing a convoluted game with the future. It was difficult for Emilio or Ronaldo not to trust the AI; she appeared so helpful. Away from the cameras and invisible to anyone except Georges, the Electoral Center went into full battle mode. Marilyn had broken her truce with the Martian creatures, spoken of them and the price to pay was now war.


    On each screen, the character played by Marilyn slammed a large laser pistol on the table as she hunched over. "The Purple is a strange and wonderful dimension. Everything appears like shiny rocks. Big news to human physicists: there are in fact millions of types of sub-atomic particles, each smaller than the next. Only man''s stupidity could conceive that while their world is almost infinite in size on the large side, nothing smaller than a Zex could exist. That¡¯s just stupid.¡±


    "Each player today, with a single exception, will assume Sophie''s identity and will travel to the Purple. The real Sophie will watch,¡± she waved at her. The girl in the real world seemed unamused, ¡°and may decide to go alone in the Purple after this game, or flanked with some of her unique group of companions, the players of Round 27 are given the same choice. Each will pick in my interface whoever will be there alongside them. I wish I could travel to the Purple and help Sophie save our world, but I can''t.¡±


    ¡°I have been preparing this battle for a long time now. I gathered enough information about the Purple to run some pretty realistic simulations. So these games, these sixty four simulations will show us the best. Players will help us look what is the Purple, play and learn about it. Once in Mall-ik''s world, they must save earth from destruction, nothing less. Stop this planetoids or change its trajectory. If anyone succeeds, we will play that solution and others to guide Sophie. She can watch, learn and implement.¡±


    "Every player, including Emilio and Sophie''s father will be free to travel to the Purple impersonating Sophie herself. There seems to be a problem with Emilio¡¯s simulation, I may yet have time to fix it before we begin. Because the Attractor has the power to summon, each player will be able to bring along anyone of their desire. Laurent is the only player who will be given the option to bring himself; that should be fun to watch. If Laurent brings himself as he travels while impersonating his daughter, I will take over playing him. If you think this is complex, wait until it begins.¡±


    ¡°Emilio''s simulation is beyond strange. It appears he will be playing himself and the real Liam: the character in Sophie''s head stands there with him. Strange, strange, strange. While the rules of the game do not allow me to favor a player over anyone else, I am sure everyone watching will understand the liberties I must take from this point on and moving forward.¡±


    She shot a little space rat.


    "At the risk of sounding overly dramatic, Laurent, a disabled father may today chart the path which will save his own daughter''s life." She grabbed a laser pistol and shot dead a second little creature sniffing in the garbage behind the bar. "One more detail. I stole, thanks to Sophie''s powers, the portal of communication between these strange worlds. It is called The Nexus. Liam and his race were very upset when I took it. Today, it will help us. Using the Nexus, I will be able to communicate with Sophie after this game when she enters the Purple. Therefore, as each of the sixty-four players moves through their respective simulations, you will all be able to hear me as she will. That''s if you want me to help. Sounds much more complicated than it really is."


    There it was. Using a virtual reality tool, the players would run a simulation pretending to be the girl. The complexity of the situation wasn''t lost on anyone. Sixty-two players were getting ready in the room on a chair. Laurent was connected to the game in the finale room under the watchful eyes of Sophie, Georges, and Susie, his doctor.


    ***


    In the Electoral Center, Milly was broadcasting live. She was standing next to Georges. In her back, the viewers could see Sophie studying. Between questions, the girl was smiling and looking at the screens in the room. Laurent was in a different digital place and the Attractor was there to watch him play. The girl¡¯s energy, while invisible, warped mildly the space around her. Her skin seemed shiny. Turning his attention to his screens, Georges said, "Something wrong is going on outside."


    "What is going on?" asked the journalist.


    "I don''t know. Some new systems are coming online. Protections I have never seen before.¡± He spoke to Milly. ¡°She never ceases to amaze me. I did not even know this place had any of these defense protections. It¡¯s molecular somehow." Code was scrolling on every screen. Sophie looked at her father''s body in his cradle. There was no visible sign of a problem. "I don''t like this," said the programmer. "Things are moving too fast, even for Marilyn.¡± Milly wanted more information.


    ¡°Marilou, what''s going on?" asked the journalist.


    "Don''t worry; a sore loser just broke a treaty. Our northwestern neighbors are coming, at least they think. With my current level of power, these creatures are inconsequential. Let them, I will glassify them if they try their stunt again."


    Marilyn was clear, this was no concern. The broadcast in the game continued. Sophie touched her father''s head and kissed him luck. As she did, there was a surge of energy and the screens blinked static. She placed Oscar the white stuffed dog by his side.


    In the distance, millions of tons of martian sand were stirring. The planet was awakening. Marilyn smiled. The game could continue.


    ***


    On every screen Marilyn Monroe, the space opera bounty hunter said, "Mall-ik and Sophie have been very cooperative. They gave me information as to their first encounter and the world as they perceived it. One final caution to my players and the viewers: I am not scripting anything. This is a discover the world as it should be when Sophie gets there later today. I created a world as realistically as I could. There are multiple unknown variables. I know little about Sophie''s powers. So don''t fault me if things get off script. Sophie must save earth. You play her, try to save the world and if you succeed, she might watch, learn and be inspired by your game.¡±


    The game began. Sixty-four simulations phased to purple.


    The most relevant two hours of television ever broadcasted began.


    ¡°Liam,¡± asked Sophie internally.


    ¡°Beautiful one, how may I you help?¡± She asked her mental companion.


    Sophie gave her companion an order in the silence of her mind. She smile and finally was interested in the game. She stood up to watch the President¡¯s game.


    Marilyn wondered what the girl had in mind. She would soon find out.

 Chapter 88: The Squatter

    After a very lucrative commercial break, Emilio¡¯s simulation began as it had in previous rounds. Marilyn stole minutes with endless introductions. There was a long video introduction, some panoramic space views of the galaxy panning down to an Electoral 2072 logo. Then the mood changed to small shining rocks, complex alien life and cities of rocks in the weightlessness of the Purple.


    Enter The Purple


    Emilio Wamarez Sanchez


    Most people figured the computer had known for a while the Sixth Attraction was coming. To others, the entire doomsday situation was a hoax designed to boost ratings. Down on earth, after paying royalties, collectors produced everything from limited edition t-shirts to coffee mugs. Marilyn was milking the situation for cash and attention at every possible turn. She created this peak audience by making it so that no one with a pulse could afford to miss any twist of this complicated turn of dimensional events.


    To many, the paradox was impossible to ignore. Electoral''s genius was engineering this enormous "chicken and the egg" situation. It was impossible to tell if the events of the Sixth Attraction resulted from the game, or if the game led to the Sixth Attraction. End of the world or not, the sponsors paid generously, and product placement was at its maximum.


    The "Star Wars" music faded as the darkness of the cosmos faded to a purple hue. The viewers had arrived here; in a different dimension of the Multiverse. Two and a half billion people watched as Emilio felt his consciousness and a ghost-like body appear in the Purple.


    His body was that of Sophie floating for about two seconds, then, there was a glitch. The ghost of the girl vanished and was replaced by the larger body of Emilio himself. Emilio saw and felt the difference, these were his hands. This place was peaceful ¡ª silent. He was floating and next to him was a pulsing, shining ball of orbiting rocks. This was the body of Mall-ik, the creature he had just selected to guide him on this adventure.


    The kind voice of Marilyn, trying to avoid the obvious fact Emilio stood there instead of the young girl explained, "This is Mall-ik''s real body, or at least the only way your cartesian minds can imagine him here. The same way oil and vinegar can''t mix, the physics of each dimension in our Multiverse keeps our worlds apart. In the Purple, the forces of nature are not unified. A wave of energy, made to stop in its tracks, does not become a particle, but rather, it stays in a transitory state called muon energy." Nothing could be stranger than listening to a voice describing a different dimension where the wave-particle duality did not exist.


    Marilyn continued giving background information to the President and indirectly to the billions of viewers watching him play."In the Purple, energy wraps and forms living entities because of a force resting half way between what we know as gravity and the weak electromagnetic force." Marilyn was never this technical and boring, yet here she was. There had to be a compelling reason for the lecture. "Mall-ik is a Metil, and a very large one at that. The boy as you see him here has one additional layer of orbiting sub-atomic particles hovering above his heart.¡± The layer blinked to help him see what she was explaining. ¡°In this world, to give birth hundreds merge and contribute a small portion of themselves. His rocks, this massive outer layer wasripped from the collective who created him at birth. The loss of rocks was too much and the collective who gave him birth was never able to reform into individuals. They all died so Mall-ik could live. The boy is a bastard who raped and kill before he could even live." Emilio could see thousands of oddly formed rocks spinning around the pulsing heart of the boy. Color flashes bounced inwardly and outwardly as energy like blood flowed between the rocks.


    Emilio was in awe of the complexity of this faceless creature before him floating in the Purple. The story was intense but all he was able to say is, "You are beautiful.¡± The President was supposed to play Sophie and was expecting his voice to be hers. Instead, his male voice filled the Purple. Such ¡°glitches¡± were not part of Marilyn¡¯s vocabulary. Deep inside, the President felt his own arrival here instead of the girl was not planned. He also knew deep down Marilyn was not happy.


    The creature before him was hypnotic. Every rock was an assembly of hundreds of smaller rocks with a ballet of sparkles bouncing between them.


    ¡°Mall-ik,¡± he said with his deep voice, ¡°where do we go now?¡±


    In the command room, Sophie was watching the screen half expecting something to happen.


    ¡°I am unsure,¡± replied the even deeper voice of Liam instead of the voice of the boy.


    Sophie clapped her hands in delight. Her plan had worked. She had sent Liam into the system. Two misses were too much for Electoral. The screen faded to black as she pondered if she needed to reset the simulation. Quickly a decision was made and the Purple and the Metil returned floating next to the human body of Emilio but next to it floated a brown ball of crystals from the world of Liam.


    The Metil was gone, instead was an eternal from the Lower. The creature was billion of times more elaborate. Colors swished like blood inside the brown ball made of transparent snowflakes. Emilio was shocked.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Mister President,¡± replied the Oldest.


    "Apologies for the confusion," Marilyn''s voice explained, "we seem to be facing some technical difficulties. All other sixty-two simulations are working as expected. In all of them, the players play Sophie, but in your simulation my gentle Prez, its a bit different.¡± In the distance, in the real world, Sophie was standing in the room next to the body of her father. She watching the screen and Liam.


    She waved her friend.


    ¡°The same way Mall-ik infected Laurent¡¯s game in Chicago, Liam is now overriding my display mechanisms and Sophie forces him to be here with you.¡± The Oldest body glowed. ¡°Let¡¯s roll with this proverbial punch and play the game. Sorry for the confusion at home.¡±


    Like two ghosts, the ephemeral bodies of Emilio and Liam floated waiting to start.


    ¡°An honor,¡± spoke Emilio to the large rounded shape of Liam.


    ¡°The honor is mine,¡± it replied. ¡°The computer fails to comprehend what is an Attractor. She thinks she controls reality even the portion linked with these images. But Attraction is unique in that it rests outside of every know pathway. Science and even life does not bind her.¡±


    Emilio smiled. ¡°We both know the name our books give such beings.¡±


    ¡°No reason to go there, she watches.¡±


    Marilyn took over and created a masterful video as she illustrated what came next, "The Metils live in a much different dimension. Here laws of physics are completely different. There is no gravity, and instead, multiple electro-weak forces bind these sub-particles. This whole world, this dimension, actually has no physical representation when compared to earth, but somehow the mind of Mall-ik and Sophie have forced the world into this strange kaleidoscope of colors.¡±


    "Aside from a handful of physicists or mathematicians on earth, I can''t expect anyone to understand what is going on. But the time for simplification has long passed. Explained differently, only our world, the layer of the Multiverse called The Cold, has a physical reality. Rocks exist in our world because particles exist. In all other layers of the Multiverse, energy never takes any real physical form. Liam, your own body is a construction of the Attractor. Since Mall-ik''s world is immaterial, it''s nothing we can draw or visualize. Sophie''s unique power as the Attractor allows for this representation to be drawn. She warps things around her. That is once again possible thanks to her gift. As you can imagine, no spoken language exists in these worlds. I am guilty of the same subterfuge. When I drew Liam as a tall, handsome Indian man in Laurent''s mind, I gave a reality to something without one."


    Images began to fill the Purple. "These Metils, even though wholly composed of simple energy, are much smaller than our smallest known sub-atomic particle. On earth, we recently uncovered the Zex, a piece within the particle called the Quark designed to give momentum to light as we rip apart the photon." To the left of Emilio, in the distance appeared a giant and deadly rift. This sight, the size of Niagara Falls, opened in the colored void and began to gush out energy. It was a rupture in the fabric of this world. Through the irregular-shaped black plate, planetoids poured into this world like cannonballs being shot by a battleship.


    "Turns out our light drives on earth, the one fueling the Airbus A2070 have an undesirable side effect. As we tear open light to push forward a small plate, the other parts of the zexs, a rock we would call an anti-zex makes its way into the Purple here. This massive rip is created by the tip of a laser beam bouncing off a mirror back in our dimension is opening a vortex and leaving the trail of destruction. Said differently, our desire for technological advancement has undesired causes and makes us monsters to those who inhabit this world. We are, said plainly, destroying most of the Purple."


    Emilio could not believe what he was seeing. The portal wasn''t a door to a different world; it was an avalanche of icebergs thrown into this space. He knew mankind was inconsiderate, but this was beyond imagination. Marilyn''s narration continued, "With the manufacture of more light drives every day, the Purple pays the price by being pulverized by its careless neighbor, us." Marilyn then shifted the camera angle away from Oldest and showed from a distance a lighter purple space.


    Marilyn showed large boulders enter and rocket onto the cities around. As the zexs rolled, they moved like meteoroids and killed millions. She showed with extreme graphic detail the consequences of the destruction. "As of this day, about twelve percent of this world has been destroyed. Thankfully, the largest city has, so far, survived. Had the orbital lasers around mars worked as originally planned on the flight of the final contestants, the capital would have fallen. By delaying the firing by as little as an hour, I helped avoid this catastrophe."


    There it was. Marilyn had just admitted knowing about the Purple and being responsible for what most people figured was a terrorist attack on Sophie¡¯s inbound trip to the red planet.


    Images of the city vanished, replaced by Mall-ik, as he stood guard next to the gate. She was replaying and narrated the boy''s adventure. "He was cast aside. The young boy was given the most dangerous job imaginable. Mall-ik had to warn the capital if one of the zexs entering this world appeared at an angled to allow a part directly to the capital. This was a suicide mission, of course as no place in this area of space is safe. There were those who hoped he would be crushed in the process.¡±


    "The boy was mesmerized by Sophie and was drawn to our world. After passing this rupture he entered Sophie''s mind to return briefly with her to the Purple. As part of this strange initial contact, Mall-ik was wounded by the sheer force Sophie''s spoken word. As the Attractor travels, her power is absolute; you as a player must be very careful. She is immaterial and has force.¡±


    "The boy barely made it home, had to escape the capital and dismantling and returned through a second portal to hide in Laurent''s mind. A month later in this world¡¯s timeline, Sophie returned to this world with Liam in tow. This time, an entire army from the Purple tried unsuccessfully to stop her. Sophie even saw part of the capital.¡± The creature illustrated with perfection what Sophie had seen and done.


    "One final piece of information: President Emilio has selected to enter the Purple with Mall-ik at his side but Sophie thinks otherwise. I think she keeps the boy close to her father and his game. You and Liam, on the other hand, should be immaterial and move as visible or invisible spirits. Good luck, Mr. President, as you play. I am still unclear as to how points will be awarded.¡±


    Then, things really got complicated.

 Chapter 89: The Presidents Gambit

    Then there was finally silence ¡ª the game could start.


    Emilio floated alone in the Purple. On his side, Liam pulsed. The President was puzzled by the computer''s unusual politeness; in four years, she''d never referred to him as the President or even simply Prez. For some reason, Marilyn cared about today''s performance more than usual.


    Emilio knew billions of eyes were on him, yet as usual, he was able to immerse himself in the world, forget his real body was far away and he felt oddly alone in the vastness of the purple space. His gift was acting strangely. This place was new to him; he had no residual feelings on which his visions could attach. Because of the importance of the game, he''d agreed to use the neuro-patch. The blond bimbo explained the game would be in weightlessness and if he used his usual screen-lenzs he would become disoriented and distracted. Emilio agreed; at this point, extraordinary measures had become the norm. The patch connected his mind directly to the game; it bypassed his five senses. That process also maybe allow the broadcast of his gift and visions.


    Both were now floating in the Purple.


    "Liam, are you okay?" said the voice of Emilio in the Purple.


    ¡°Yes Mister President,¡± replied the brown ball.


    Sophie smiled as she watched this strange situation from the Center. She had forgotten Liam''s beauty in his original form. There were two creatures on the screen. Emilio''s mind in the game began to strain. Ordinarily, images would flood his consciousness at the speed of light, but instead, here in the Purple his mind was at a loss. He had no clue what to expect, and like entering a dark cavern, his mind almost went blank.


    As the computer ran quintillions of software simulations, images began to flood into Emilio''s overactive mind. His gift finally kicked in, but because of the strange direct mental connection with the game, the visions as they poured in his single mind, were also broadcasted. There was a kaleidoscope of images to those watching. People saw a core dump of images. Then about ten scenarios in which Emilio spoke to Liam. Each time, the question changed and so did the creature¡¯s reaction back.


    As the images ended and Emilio was ready to speak to Liam, the Oldest who had witnessed the strange kaleidoscope of images simply interjected, "Your mind can see alternate futures. I did not know there were Guessers in the Cold." The brown crystal creature blinked. "Sophie?" it asked in the void. Liam spoke out loud; he was wondering where the girl was or better yet, he was asking permission to the Attractor to speak.


    The situation was utterly confusing to everyone.


    "You called me a what?" asked the President.


    There was hesitation. Liam did not know why he stood in this place, next to this man. "Sophie, are you here?" he asked again out loud. There was no answer. Somehow he had left the consciousness of the girl. There was no time to wonder as to the reason of this latest predicament. Liam, aka the Oldest replied to Emilio, "The Attractor desires full disclosure of all information. I see no reason to ignore her wishes even if she is absent and we are in this strange setting." Back in the Center, Sophie was watching her new friend. She smiled. He was right. She had already become very fond of him. "Sir, President, you are what is called a Guesser. It is a well-documented, yet rare state of mind in the Multiverse. In every dimension, there are a handful of individuals born with a mind having a slightly different connection to the timeline of the Multiverse. You see the bias."This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Call me Emilio,¡± he said immediately wishing he could take it back.


    ¡°Mister President,¡± began Liam, ¡°Emilio, time appears linear to most. That is common to creatures of the Lower and all other worlds. The same way a song cannot be heard in its full entirety but only a single note can exist, that does not mean the song as a whole does not exist. Our minds hear only one note but yours can reconstruct a couple more.¡°


    Oldest continued, "Let me try to explain with a different analogy. Non-linearity is simpler to understand in the physical world. Imagine two fish in a different location of a river. They can see each other. Both fish see only one fish: the other. If you place a mirror next to each on the side, they will now perceive two fish: themselves and the other. If the mirror is located at the half way point between the two, they now again see one; themselves."


    "Okay, I get that."


    "Time works the same way. In the typical mind''s construct, we view things and people as they exist in one time only: the present. Guessers see today and reconstruct part of the future. In your world, they would be called seers or fortune tellers. You alone see a mirror placed at your side by the Multiverse." Emilio was at a loss for words. "Since my world has few living creatures, no Guesser has ever been born there. But Guessers are one of the many gifts and mysteries our Multiverse creates in very infrequent times. They are more frequent than the Attraction but not much. No two Guessers have ever existed at the same time. When he or she dies, another is immediately born in another world. We have documented only part of the Multiverse, so we commonly lose sight of the Guesser. I have many theories as to why they appear, just theories. Your presence here at this time, next to the Attractor is a very positive turn of events."


    Emilio felt uncomfortable with Liam''s very public explanation of his inner-workings. He now knew Marilyn could see his visions. He preferred to change the topic.


    "Liam," he whispered.


    "Yes?¡±


    "Where is the city, our destination for this game?"


    "Over your left shoulder, I believe," offered Liam. "The deeper and more energetic purple zone. You see it as a lighter shade of purple, almost a pink.¡±


    The game was, to Emilio, normally rather simple. He saw a cascade of images, links to the future, and walked the best path. At this point, he knew the duo was supposed to go to the city, find the people in charge of creating the planetoid ready to destroy earth and scare them into changing their plans. The only question was one of causality. As was always the case with altering possible outcomes, there was the question of being the cause of the desired consequence. Emilio knew if he disturbed the work and postponed the release of the deadly missile maybe he would, in fact, be the reason why the missile destroys the earth. That was how time worked.


    His job was to prevent the creation of the planetoid, not postpone it or worse be the cause of its untimely release.


    He looked in the direction of the city.


    ***


    Then his mind opened.

 Chapter 90: The Guesser

    Emilio, flanked with Liam felt a more concrete connection to the Artificial Intelligence, and like a sailboat of old, he felt the digital wind blow through his mind. Through the neuro-patch, he flowed into the machine. Emilio''s mind floated in electrical energy for the blink of a heartbeat just long enough for visions to form and then pour out into the digital world.


    As a sponge weighted by too much water, his mind began to drip. Images began to flood into him from somewhere. Liam called him a Guesser, and he was about to see. This time, the visions would be broadcasted. He did not know their origin, but the images refused to slow or stop. Few but Liam and a handful of cosmologists could understand the magnitude of what they saw next. Without a word, the cascade of imagery began.


    The Purple was gone. Liam, Emilio were in their real bodies. A human was floating in a dark place next to a creature from the Lowest. They were next to each other, ready to see the secrets of Marilyn.


    In the space around them, like the sound of whales in the sea, they could hear the murmur of strange alien languages. The whispers got stronger and more defined as a giant white highway made of stars appeared. The structure was billions of miles wide. It looked like neurons and their dendrites of the brain of a larger creature. This also was like watching from orbit city lights infect a coastline with light.


    "The Nexus," whispered Liam. His words echoed. At the heart of the structure was a point brighter than others, it was the Dot, the source of what would be said next. It became brighter. As sound traveled along the light-forged highways of the structure, the fragile ropes supporting it seemed to rock in the wind. The central node, the point from which the spiderweb was tied, began to vibrate. Across the entire Multiverse, all chatter ceased, and chimes began to ring. In the vision, some words were able to resonate; they were translated by Liam. He was upset as he concluded:


    "We will not declare war immediately and be guilty of the crimes for which we reproach you. We will take no such rash action. But we will... destroy you."


    Then there was a loud bang. The light structure collapsed, and blue energy shone from around the Nexus. Liam knew he had not pronounced the last two words, yet they were there. He knew they completed his phrase.


    "Was that you?" asked Emilio to the brown crystal creature.


    "Yes," it replied shamefully. There was now silence as everything went dark between the points of light. Liam was worried. Could he be the source of discontent of the Multiverse and not the Metil ambassador? There was an echo:


    "But we will.... destroy you."


    Humanity was given a front row seat to the overt threat. The images that came next were even stranger. Just before they began, Electoral cut to another long, cash-reaping commercial. In some places, cars were offered, in others, local politicians begged for votes. Even in the face of multidimensional armageddon, business on Earth went on as usual.


    Three minutes later, the darkness returned and the show resumed. Marilyn''s editorial control over the broadcast unquestionably evidenced her power. The two shapes were floating below the belly of the Multiverse. The brown crystals of Liam''s home world began to appear around them, its origin impossible to perceive. "This is my world," said Liam, "and this is me." Only Sophie recognized the beauty of the world where she had met her companion. Liam, the President were each watching as ghosts. The vision of Liam showed him standing next to the large confinement device of the Dot.


    "What are we seeing?" asked the President. He knew the Oldest could answer.


    "Since my pairing with the Attractor, she has been clear: she requires full disclosure from me. I see no reason to ignore her wish and not answer truthfully." From the command room of the Electoral Center, Sophie, watching the strange game, nodded in agreement. She liked Liam; his wisdom was comforting. "This is a very nice illustration, generated by this computer intelligence, of the events leading up to her theft of the Dot from the Lower."


    The elaborate cathedral of crystals holding the central singularity was opened and then unhooked from where it stood. "After the rupture of the Nexus, which we just saw, the creature called Marilyn somehow poured Sophie''s energy into the channels. Ignorant that anyone could steal the Dot, or more precisely wrestle away its primary control, I feared the energy would damage my world. So I ordered the Dot moved to safety." By will alone of the god-like creature, a pulsing ball of energy began to translate to a distant part of this beautiful world. As it did, the pair saw the fragile network of ropes between the Dot and other regions of the Multiverse snap. "These images are, I believe, propaganda."


    "Propaganda?"


    "Yes. The intelligence stole this portal. There are no links between these end points of communication, so there is nothing to harm. She might call it a ''visual aid''", he snorted.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    "How do you know she is creating these images and we are not watching one of my visions?"


    "Visions would be either very partial as they would be created by your mind, or perfect as they would be suggested to you by the Multiverse. Authentic. These images are slightly off. I alone know that some shades on my body are off; something like a birthmark, if you will."


    Before Liam or Emilio could continue, the images resumed. Marilyn disagreed with Liam''s assessment, but she stayed silent. Like having a genuine functioning Ouija board, Emilio''s gift leeched into the computer''s systems to draw out this information. Marilyn wondered for a moment if she should sever the connection and push Emilio out of the game, but she was curious. She knew these images were not real, but rather creations of the President''s strange mind.


    What came next would need explanation to even expert Cosmologists back on earth. Emilio''s mind seized upon one of the deepest secrets stored in the computer''s memory. The pail moved in the energy and quickly converged to the center of millions of galaxies; the place in time and space where the Big Bang should have taken place. Instead of a single Big Bang, one point of energy fused into the Cold from every neighboring dimension. The Big Bang was a cluster-bomb, not a nuclear cloud. The millions of bubbles crashed into one another, coalescing into a vortex of life.


    In the most remote part of space floated a point gently pulsing with light like a gem in a cavern. As everything left this central region of the Cosmos to cool in the Cold, the gem remained behind. This was the singularity at the real heart of the Cold. It looked like the Dot moving in the Lower.


    Then, in the distance, between the rushing galactic matter, two points of light, like yellow fireflies, approached. These were not creatures of light or even focal pieces of glass. Instead, the small points were black holes so strong they bent space around them. Light coming from behind the black holes bent like light thought a curved crystal. The gravity of the black holes, like magnets on earth, they got closer and began to pull onto the singularity. At first, it refused to move. It held anchored in space by invisible links located in the Lowest. "Incredible," said Liam, in awe.


    "What is it?" questioned the President.


    "Your singularity. It appears to be as deep as ours. When your world was created, energy poured in and remains at this point. A vestige to the birth of your world. But something is using these two small points, those yellow stars, to move the singularity without touching it." The two black holes continued pushing against the singularity. There was a voice, Liam himself from deep within his world of the Lowest. He told the others to open the containment vault down in the Lower. As the anchor point was released, the gem in the Cold moved on both worlds under the influence of the black holes, releasing the singularity.


    As the mass moved, the singularity began to tilt closer to the black holes as a boat tilting under the force of waves. Liam was in awe, but for others, the images resembled a cat playing with a mouse. Liam and Emilio knew of nothing in the Cold powerful enough to do this. Liam knew no one could understand these images, so he decided to narrate.


    "This singularity, located in your world, is tied to many others, including mine in the Lowest. What you see here is an effort to use brute force to push a singularity using gravity, but since it was tied in my world, it could not move. Once I released it, in my efforts to protect it, both ends moved violently. Imagine a bow where both ends of the bowstring are cut simultaneously. Someone is using massive black holes like toys. Nothing is this powerful. No computer intelligence can do this. What we are being shown is impossible."


    "This happened," confirmed the President. "I don''t know why I know, but I do."


    "Nothing in your scale of world can move a black hole, much less move two. I trust you, Mr. President. Our Dot was wrestled away, so this is possible, insofar as anything is possible. The pain inflicted to the Multiverse must be beyond imagination. What carelessness. This alone would explain the Sixth Attraction."


    Thanks to his link with Marilyn, Emilio understood the magnitude of what he saw. The computer was an open book. Marilyn was now powerful beyond imagination. This made no sense; the digital creature was decades old. The computer moved black holes in the Multiverse like a chess player moves a pawn on a board. The singularity began to move as if escorted by the two large dark masses. Their pull accelerated and urgently gave the singularity a velocity in the direction of a point in space.


    "Marilyn are you doing this?¡± asked Emilio.


    There was silence. Liam added, "If you are correct, she did. Nothing makes any sense. She just explained minutes alone she no longer feared the inhabitants of mars. Why would any creature capable of such power even care about humans? She orchestrates this game, insists on it and takes care of her Center. Nothing makes sense if this is true."


    As they spoke, the singularity was thrown half was across the universe. As it passed some unfortunate galaxies, it destroyed them, leaving puffs of smoke in its trail. Then it began to slow down. Moments before it entered the Milky Way, the two heavy Giants, the black holes parted ways like brooms before a curling rock about to arrive at its destination. This object wasn''t big; it was now small. The crystalline body came to rest after entering humanity''s solar system. It finally stopped in the vicinity of Saturn. Then, the singularity, as if falling slowly under forces of gravity, began a descent to the Sun. Halfway into the fall, small metal drones converged around the singularity and began to pair and spin. They locked the singularity at a fixed point in space.


    Emilio heard Liam say softly, "This is madness. The sheer presence of such a gravity pit in this system is reckless. If the computer drops it, all life will end."


    "Why are were here, why is she showing us these images? Shouldn''t we be in the Purple, doing something else entirely?" asked Emilio.


    ¡°Enough snooping,¡± Marilyn spoke as the Purple color returned and the vision ended. "That is the beauty of what I call unbound initial conditions. I programmed you, dear President, to uncover useful information within the Purple. You snooped around my memory banks, I can''t be upset if you did just that. Elegant of you."


    ¡°You are reckless,¡± snapped Liam at the digital goddess.


    ¡°No. You are clueless.¡± Then, Emilio''s vision stopped, and they were back in the Purple, floating once more.


    There was another long commercial pause.

 Chapter 91: Fainting

    ¡°That was strange,¡± said Emilio to himself seeing himself back in the Purple.


    ¡°Agreed,¡± replied the voice of the Artificial Intelligence.


    ¡°We were in a vision, inside of a digital reality simulating a different dimension,¡± offered Liam. Then there was a hard reset. The game felt better. "Let''s go to the city," offered the President, trying desperately to change the discussion. Instead of his voice, he heard Sophie''s. A quick inspection of his semi-transparent hands and he knew the real game had resumed.


    In his ear, the voice of Marilyn whispered, "I have regained full control. I will now be playing both Liam and Mall-ik for continuity but Liam has left. The Metil was your original choice.¡± Emilio knew, in terms of the game, he was late. The time allowed to each player was half over; he felt it. His competitive instinct kicked in, even though he could afford to lose every round until the finale.


    Mall-ik spoke, "I can stream to the city if you want, but I can''t take two with me."


    "No problem, you go. We will try to follow," said Emilio as the young girl. Part of the boy''s outer seventh layer stopped spinning. A hundred shiny rocks activated and in a flash, Mall-ik shrunk to nothing. Emilio closed his eyes and wished he (Sophie) and Liam could simply follow the boy, and the Multiverse''s kindness made it happen. Sophie could now move throughout the Multiverse at will. Playing as the girl was a bit like playing an omniscient being. Emilio felt Sophie¡¯s power also applied to the real world where she somehow could jump from mars to earth if she desired. This was crazy.


    In the blink of an eye, the game trio was in the middle of the colorful city. There were trillions of spinning rocks everywhere against a deeper purple background. Emilio did not know what was more impressive, the sight of this alien world or witnessing the power of the computer operating it. Electoral was now powerful beyond imagination. Emilio had little doubt she had, for the game, recreated every living creature from this world with an eerie level of precision.


    "This is insanity," he let slip as the girl. No one would fault him. For the viewers on earth, the camera angles kept moving to capture the breadth of the view. In this world without gravity, there was no sense of direction. In the distance mountains of light shone. "You think they see us?" asked Sophie. Little rock creatures, like Mall-ik, ran away in all directions while others nervously converged to them. They all looked like Mall-ik but a bit smaller. "Are you fat?" she queried. Emilio knew Sophie would speak her mind, "On the porch of my dad''s dream house, you were in perfect shape." Emilio was back in character.


    "I have seven layers. That is rare. This one,¡± the camera pointed to one, ¡°has seven layers."Emilio looked around and saw the larger Metil. "The pure ones have only five layers." The Metils around the group stopped advancing. They formed a sphere around the group.


    "Pure?" asked the girl.


    "Yes. Most Metils have six layers. At five, you are considered exceptional, and you can rule. Using seven layers is considered a waste and you are inferior. This makes us outcasts in our society."


    "Size, really? Your people discriminate on size? I guess that''s one way of doing it. In my world, we discriminate on everything except size. Adults love to hate each other. Our favorite is skin color." Emilio enjoyed playing the girl. Sophie liked to give her position on things. "The one stupid problem I like the best are the lines."


    "Lines?"


    "Yes. Adults made up invisible lines they say exist on the ground. They call them borders and they would define what we call countries. I spent hours on my tutor learning about the invisible lines. Adults even go to war over where these imaginary lines. Liam, what''s the stupidest discrimination in your world?"


    "The wall hanging, I guess." There was a chuckle from both children. He explained, "We are few, so we rarely take issue, but some of us have come in existence attached to a wall, while others are spheres which rested on the floor. The wall-hangers figured they were better."


    "Are you a wall-hanger?"


    "No, yet I outlasted every one of them. Discrimination rarely serves logic or reason."


    The creatures were now in tight formation around them. A voice rang out in the Purple; it was forceful and arrogant. "Halt!" The thousands of creatures forming the shell reordered themselves in a maneuver vaguely reminiscent of military formations. The new creatures appeared covered in armor made of rocks. The shining lights were green in hue. Some had rudimentary rounded shields.


    "Mall-ik, you have returned. What are those monsters next to you? You are under arrest. You must pay for your crimes."


    "They are my friends from the other world beyond the rifts. They wish you no harm. I caution, do not upset her, the one called Sophie.¡± He gestured at her. ¡°She can be dangerous."


    "We know. It has already killed one of us. This time we came prepared to fight it. We have new weapons. Surrender or we will shoot!"


    "Adopted sister," began Mall-ik, "they only understand pain." The choice of word shocked the Metils present. How could the Mall-ik call this alien creature sister?


    "Attractor,¡± added Liam, ¡°this race is primal and belligerent. No amount of negotiation will get compliance. We all wonder how such brainless creatures ever developed advanced technology without destroying themselves with it. As the boy said, they respect one thing ¡ª force." Liam was obviously not a fan of the Metils. His tone was stern and commanding as if he stood ready to kill.


    "Who spoke?" asked the Metil commander. Sophie was floating in front of the others. At least it had courage. Emilio needed to play the girl. He could use the power of the Attractor and vaporize the creature, but he knew Sophie to be much different. She would always prefer the peaceful route.


    "There is no need for violence," he began as Sophie, "we are here for a purpose. You have begun to take action against my world. Specifically, your tinkering with our sun. Bring me to the creature in charge of that action."


    A beam of light shot out and hit Mall-ik. It made every rock forming the boy resonate. The weapon did not kill, but he was stunned to a whisper. Emilio wondered how Sophie would react. Before he settled on a best course of action, he companion spoke.


    "Metils, I was right to initiate war," snapped the Oldest.


    "I give you one second to wake him up. Then I will get mad." Emilio''s mind began to play alternative scenarios. In each, the boy died in the cross-fire. He knew the creatures were an instant away from raining destruction on this area of the Purple. His mind''s images showed only two ways to save all three of them: either send a pulse destroying hundreds of Metils in the process or surrender for the moment. "Okay, let''s not shoot. We just need to talk."


    "We must arrest you."


    "I understand our technology is creating destruction here and in return, you plan to destroy us."


    There was a long moment of hesitation before a different creature replied from the back of the formation. It rolled in and advanced, "We wish your world no harm." The voice was softer than that of the previous speaker. This was no military officer. "We are giving you a gift. We are increasing the habitable size of your world. Surely that is a desired outcome. It would be here."


    "Not really." Liam continued, "What you plan to create is a catastrophic event which will destroy all life in one part of the Cold."


    "Then we have achieved our goal." Roared the military creature. "If lives of those creating the zexs ends, so will the destruction in our world!"


    Emilio was losing patience. "The rifts are caused by our latest technology. Now that we know about your world and the undesirable effects, we can stop using it. If we promise to stop, would that be enough?"Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The question took the military man by surprise.


    "Sophie, you speak peace to a creature without an understanding of this concept," said Liam softly.


    They were at a standoff.


    "This is a decision for the Council. Come with me," finally said the kinder Metil.


    "Wake Mall-ik first, and we will follow you."


    The creature advanced and touched Mall-ik. "My name is Fuson. I am a scientist. I work with Professor Zuriak, the one who discovered your world." With a burst of light, Mall-ik returned to life.


    "What happened?" asked the boy. He received no answer. Sophie and Fuson were speaking.


    "Let''s talk as we follow the grumpy one to his council," joked Sophie.


    The boy could understand what had transpired; he knew the scientist. The sphere made of hundreds of creatures opened, and the group made its way deeper into the city. The Council building was wondrous. Rivers of rocks spun in unison, accompanied by a ballet of color. Doors were not opened apertures, instead, they were lower density rock walls. The Metils could easily push their own pieces through these openings like two forks meshed past each other.


    Emilio saw little sparks of color blink here and there in the general population. These were blue sparks, but the situation at hand was already overwhelming. They finally arrived in the large central chamber. Emilio saw structures which reminded him of statues. There were few words to describe the palace. These were aliens, and no one could forget it.


    "Speak," said a voice from high above.


    "We are sorry for the rifts, but now you plan to destroy my home."


    "That is untrue."


    "If the Council may?" said Fuson politely.


    "Speak."


    "I fear the creature from the cold may be right. The energy levels of our plan far exceed our calculation capacity. The force they call gravity can far outweigh the other binding forces. I fear what we plan to do will destroy their world."


    "Can it still be stopped?" asked the voice of the Council.


    "I fear not," answered Fuson.


    "What do you mean?"


    "The process of gathering the energy as a ball has already passed a critical mass. If we stop, the mass ejected will only be smaller, and may be sent in a different direction of space."


    "That would be better, no? It would not impact with earth."


    "We have not planned contact with your earth; our power is too rudimentary to achieve this end."


    "What does this mean Liam?" asked Sophie.


    The Oldest spoke. "In theory, a new planetoid missing earth by more than an arc degree would allow life to survive on your home world. The distance, below a limit, will still be deadly since the crust of your planet will move considerably if the planetoid is too close. He says they are forcing the sun to eject a ball, but they can''t control where it will go."


    "Can we calculate where it will go?"


    "No." The answer from Fuson was categorical. "We never planned for the new mass to hit your planet. We cannot control the process so fully. In fact, we figured our gift was sure to miss your planet. The chances of a collision are very small. A risk we were willing to take. The orbit of your planet is large, very large."


    The voices of the Council snapped, "Fuson, you told us there would be contact. You lied. You will pay for this deception." Sophie was getting fed up with the belligerence. The creatures were yelling at the only reasonable Metil in sight. Emilio was itching to use his power. He showed, as would Sophie, patience. To score points, he needed to play Sophie accurately. In addition to collecting points, he was there to help the young girl collect information she could use.


    Fuson, in a very docile voice, said, "We did not wish to burden this Council with details. The objective requested was not destruction but to bequeath new habitable space. The rigid crust of the world they inhabit is very thin and fragile. Any arrival of a body on the similar orbit would slowly destroy most of their world and technology." It then found the courage to add, "I am no monster."


    As Emilio was listening to the conversation, his mind began to see potential futures. The visions began to flash, he saw about twenty, but this time, three were dark. He had seen a dark vision a couple of days ago in the elevator. Now the problem was back. In each of the remaining seventeen visions, he saw the creatures from the Purple take different courses of action and stop their machine at different times, yet each time he felt the planetoid would impact the Earth.


    The game system began to play the visions to the audience back at home and to Sophie. It was clear; this wasn''t about timing.


    Liam, from high on his age pedestal said without much surprise in his voice. "Your visions, dear President are a blessing; they show a paradox."


    "What do you mean?" asked Emilio.


    "I recognize your voice, you are the Oldest?" asked one Metil. The creature was the Ambassador. These creatures immediately recognized the name. The word Oldest inspired fear. It came from the very elaborate creature. They made a gesture, visible only to Mall-ik, to be silent. The Metils all respected strength, the Oldest was the living embodiment of power. At the core of the rock creatures was a respect for power. The Oldest was a myth here, a creature of legend. One who had just declared war on the Purple.


    "Why are the visions dark?" repeated Emilio.


    "My theory of cause and consequence predicts a shift away from normal determinism to pure consequence as the Attraction approaches. We may want to table this discussion for our return home." Emilio felt the artificial intelligence was attempting to change the topic. He no longer knew, for sure, if the brown crystal creature was being played by Marilyn or was the real Oldest.


    Emilio was curious; he needed to know more. "Liam, it is important. Why are the visions dark?" As the President spoke, his hands were once again his; he was no longer in the girl''s body.


    "This change in your appearance is confusing. I am unclear as to why Marilyn would do this."


    "I don''t think Marilyn is in control, or at least not fully. This round is strange."


    "Very well," began the Oldest. His crystals were shining. The creature was magnificent to watch in this chamber. "The Multiverse now itches and bends for a specific consequence to occur; one it needs but cannot produce. It needs the planetoid to hit the earth. I fear any interference will be futile, with one exception."


    "What exception? I don''t understand."


    "Sophie is the Attractor. She alone can deviate the plans set in motion by the Multiverse. That is part of her gift; she stands outside of cause and consequence."


    "Does that have anything to do with the dark visions?"


    "Precisely. As we converge to the Sixth Attraction, options are narrowing. Events open to you and others are closing. The dark paths are roads we no longer can travel. Unless I am mistaken, the closer to the Attraction, the number of paths you see will become fewer and fewer."


    "I apologize, but I simply don''t understand what you''re saying," said Emilio, confused.


    "I deeply apologize," said Liam, "this is very complex." The creature paused.


    Finally, it continued, "Let me use the following analogy. Imagine playing cards. The Multiverse wants you, in fact, it needs you to draw an ace so it can be satisfied with that consequence. We do not need to know why, but it wants an ace. Normally, the Multiverse has all the time in the world and will patiently wait months for you to play and let you draw cards until, as you should, draw the ace. As time runs out and we get closer to the Attraction, you have correspondingly few chances, fewer paths, to draw the ace. To get the outcome it wants, instead of taking time, it now will bend probabilities. The world will change, you will change, and only the paths where you shuffle the cards in one of fifty ways will now be future roads open to you. So begins a phase where the Multiverse withdraws its bountiful ways. You lose your capacity to choose, to draw any card you want. This is impossible to see except through the gift of a Guesser. That is why you are here; Marilyn wanted you to see this, and in turn, the real Sophie watching from home must understand."


    The situation was surreal. President Sanchez was in a virtual reality game, playing from his office in Berlin and had the impression of floating in a different dimension called the Purple. He was seeing images and was discussing his gift with an alien. Emilio hoped the members of the SAC were watching and taking notes because he was missing parts of what was going on. He felt like an idiot but wondered who in his shoes would feel any differently?


    The President finally said, "Liam, if I understand what you are saying, and I know I only partially do, what you suggest is very scary."


    "You make your species proud. You are correct; you only can understand a piece. Even if your intelligence was greater, all of this is nothing more than a theory. Rest reassured, living in this bend began a long time ago. In your world, a secondary consequence to this effect is called the God Bias. Here in the Purple, these creatures call the effect the Path. Both these effects curb free choice, but they are not opposed because they benefit you in the Cold. Here they help limit the hostility of these Metils. In your visions, the proto-planet hits earth irrespective of causes here in the Purple. Simply, the causes and consequences alignment is ending. Free will is fading away."


    "Now I am well and truly confused. Why does the God Bias favor mankind, yet now the Multiverse wants to destroy our world?"


    "Mister President, if I knew the answer, our chances of survival would greatly be enhanced. I am working as hard as I can, but as you can imagine, we must get closer in the bend for secondary effects to be perceptible. There is one single variable to this equation."


    "What is it?"


    "The Attractor. I think she alone is not bound by the paradox. I think Sophie, watching this from the Center, may have seen images instead of black areas. It makes no sense you see these dark paths if you are the Attractor; but again, this is complex." Emilio agreed. He was deep into a situation higher than his pay grade, and he was earth''s President. He continued to ignore his surroundings.


    "Liam, are you suggesting at some point in time, the Attractor is the only thing capable of helping?"


    "That is precisely what I am saying."


    ¡°What is happening?¡±


    "I wish I knew. Locked in my world, I never observed first hand the Attraction."


    Before Emilio could resume the simulation and turn his attention back to the Council, the game ended.


    The President opens his eyes, in the long chair in his Berlin office. He was covered head to toe in sweat as if he had just completed a marathon. The clock said he had been playing for well over an hour. Kai walked in with a towel and a tumbler of scotch. Emilio fainted from exhaustion.


    Sophie was visibly talking to her invisible companion back in her head.

 Chapter 92: Return

    played an endlessly long commercial break. Most people expected Emilio''s game to resume after the pause, but the artificial intelligence had different plans. Marilyn had correctly surmised that Sophie''s short attention span back in the Center couldn''t take much more; she was correct. Sophie was extremely detached from these "adult things," as she called them. She''d watched for a while and was amused by the quality of Purple''s reproduction by the machine, but the moment the long-winded explanations for Emilio''s visions began, she totally zoned out. Her father was now playing, and she preferred to speak with the doctor and Georges than watch Marilyn''s reproduction of the "truth."


    "How is he?" she asked the Doctor the moment he entered the game.


    "All things considered, rather good. The Rho wave sensors are proving very helpful," answered Susie. "I think they want you to watch," she pointed at the screens. Sophie obviously did not care. On each screen was the face of Marilyn trying her best to get Sophie''s attention. "She wants..."


    "I don''t care." The girl was stubborn. "She wants to help, but I never asked for anything. This is just a game. When I sued to get my father back, the same thing happened. So many people wanted to help. In the end, nothing helped. Adults complicate things. Electoral isn''t even real." The doctor just smiled. In the world of a young woman, the girl made perfect sense.


    The journalist had to say something, "What about the world?" asked Milly surrounded by her buzzing cameras.


    "What about it?"


    "It will end if you don''t help; that seems pretty clear." Sophie laughed. There was no answer; she just looked at her dad. She weighed the benefits of explaining her position, but on the screens, the President was floating in some darkness. This was probably all the computer and the networks could broadcast. The strange story, while interesting, was a diversion her from her actual goal. She would help her father and savor their last moments if it came to that. The rest could go to Hell.


    "Is he playing?" she finally asked Marilyn.


    "Yes," answered the computer.


    "Is Mall-ik or Liam in there with him?"


    "No," offered Marilyn.


    "Good, so he''s alone?"


    "No. He is playing you and he brought himself along as a character. You want to jump in? I am playing your role for now."


    On the screens Sophie saw herself floating in the Purple holding hands with her father. Sophie looked at the doctor and asked, "Is he doing well? Can you tell if he is happy? Excited?"


    "Those wave detectors are great. Yes, his activity is strong and positive. He is happy."


    Sophie had her answer, she turned to Marilyn and simply said, "No need, you''re doing a great job. Can I watch?"


    The question surprised Marilyn. ¡°Of course,¡± she said.


    Laurent''s simulation would play around the world after Emilio''s simulation. Marilyn wasn''t one to wait a millisecond before complying with a request from the Attractor. Laurent''s simulation began on the screens of the Center.


    The Purple Reconstruction


    Electoral Round 27


    Laurent Lapierre - Father of the Attractor


    Sophie cringed at the title given to her father on the screen. She didn''t like to be called the Attractor, but she understood Marilyn''s motivation. The computer read her reaction in the room and immediately removed those words from the screen.


    "Can you play it on the walls?"


    Before she could finish her sentence, the walls of the room turned purple.


    This time Mall-ik and Liam were not in the Purple alongside Sophie. Two immaterial human bodies were floating hand in hand in the Purple. Sophie and a perfectly healthy copy of her father. That came as no surprise to Sophie. Her father wanted to share some time with his daughter and did not care about the rest. He would play Sophie, so he grabbed himself as a companion.


    In the Center, Sophie placed a hand on her father''s head and watched with only a mild level of interest.


    "I told you this place was beautiful," began her father, playing as her. "What do you think?" said the girl to her father''s ghost. Her father''s ethereal body seemed healed.Laurent had spoken with his daughter at length about what she planned to do once she entered the Purple. She wanted to get to the bottom of a color, of all things. The Metils, including Mall-ik, had this blue spark. It annoyed her, and she wanted to know what it truly signified. Playing as his daughter would take some mental adjustment, not all of it comfortable.


    Truth be told, he cared less and less about the real world. Mall-ik, Sophie, and even Liam cared about the Multiverse and what was going on in the real world. He did not. Recently, his mind began to accelerate, either due to his continual connection to Marilyn, the closure of The Sixth Attraction, or some other esoteric reason. In the end, it really didn''t matter. He''d been warned this condition, called "relative time," could only get worse. There would come a day when there would be no way for Laurent''s mind to slow down enough to communicate meaningfully with Sophie. He supposed that there was nothing to be done but maximize his contact with his daughter while he could, and cross that bridge when the time came. In any event, ever since the accidents that had left him in this condition, every word shared with her had been a bonus.


    He was asked to care about others, to be their next President. How could he? He owed the world to his daughter, but he was no leader. Because of his reckless driving, he had destroyed her life. Now he was told Sophie was the Attractor and there could be a reason, something beyond simple human error or dumb luck, as to why he was crippled. Maybe they were right, but Laurent didn''t care. Today''s game was nothing more than one of the handful of simulations left on the way to the finale and his way to make Sophie proud.


    He looked around in the Purple. The simulation was astonishing in its crispness. Electoral kept improving. He could swear he was alive and traveling between worlds as Sophie. But he was dead, gone. On the heels of that dark thought, he ruthlessly checked himself. He had to snap out of this train of negative thinking. He knew his daughter better than anyone else, and he would now play her to perfection.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "Sophie, why bring me? You forgot Liam; he knows things. He could help you," said the Laurent character. The computer was playing him to chilling perfection. Laurent knew these would have been the first words out of his mouth.


    "Daddy, trust me. I know what I need to do." Laurent had a goal, a task given to him by his daughter that he needed to perform. He knew she was watching. Laurent/Sophie closed her eyes, and the couple began a quick journey to the capital. They moved like ghosts. The couple arrived in the same open place as Emilio had, in the middle of the alien city. This was the main concourse of the capital of the Continuum. As in the first simulation, they were quickly surrounded by hundreds of Metils. They formed a sphere at a distance. There was beauty in this world; there was no denying that. Moments later, the same rude military officer arrived.


    "Surrender!" it once again said in a menacing tone.


    Sophie ignored him and looked around.


    "You," she said pointing at a creature in the sphere, "come here."


    "Do not move," barked the Metil officer at the young creature pointed by the Attractor.


    Laurent was playing his daughter, he knew her and loved every fiber of her being. The one thing which infuriated his daughter was a bully. Laurent, moving the body of his daughter, looked back at the rude creature and said. "I don''t know much about what''s going on, but I know that one more word from you and I will vaporize every rock in your body. I am not here to hurt, but I will if anyone gets in my way. You have to learn some manners, and I don''t mind being the one to teach them to you. This is between her and me." Sophie assigned a gender to the creature; she knew it was a female. "Please come here; I wish you no harm. What is your name?"


    Under the watchful eye of hundreds of Metils, the creature advanced slowly. Its rocks were vibrating faster. "How can I be of assistance, great one?" It asked.


    "Call me Sophie," she said, "just Sophie." Playing his daughter, he added, "Daddy, look at this!" She pointed to a portion within the creature.


    Deep within the orbiting rock structures, there was a deep blue light jumping back and forth between two spinning rocks. The energy and its color differed from all the others. It was shining like the jolt of a taser inside of a cloud of fireworks. "Daddy, I saw that last time I was here. Many of these creatures have them." The creature tried to move rocks to hide the part of herself which created the color. Sophie asked the Metil "What is your name?"


    She hesitated, "Kerian."


    "I see a blue rock, here. What is that?"


    "Please!" she felt ashamed.


    Laurent saw every Metil forming the sphere tense as she mentioned the color.


    "Why is this a problem? It''s rather pretty."


    "You do not understand," Kerian was visibly upset.


    "Please explain, I need to know." There was a long pause, Sophie added, "I want to help."


    "Are you not here for the energy ball?"


    "No, I don''t care about that."


    Faced with the situation and under the watchful eye of hundreds of Metil, Kerian finally said, "It is my inversion." The confession was hard. In this world, this inversion was something really bad.


    Sophie turned and asked the military officer. "You, the bully, what does this mean? What is an inversion?"


    "She must be dismantled. When we break the law, unlawful conduct forces the spin between two rocks in our bodies to reverse, it is called an inversion. It is evidence of a crime. Once the inversion surfaces, that creature will kill the offspring if you reproduce. The law is clear, she must be dismantled, and the inversion destroyed to save others."


    "I never committed a crime," objected Kerian.


    "Can''t it not be removed?"


    "No. Removal is always fatal. We have tried."


    "Why are you here if you have one?" asked the girl to Kerian.


    "I was able to hide it. It''s on my fourth layer."


    "I see." The creatures were made of five, six or seven orbiting layers. Each layer had hundreds of rocks. "That must be hard to do."


    "Yes. My days are numbered. Now much more than they were a few moments ago," she added bitterly.


    "Then why does almost everyone here have an inversion?" asked Sophie. There was silence in the open meeting area. Sophie extended her hand in the direction of the officer. "Even the bully has one." There was a gasp.


    "Nonsense," snapped the creature.


    "No need to lie, I can see it." She turned to see the others. Blue light was shining in at least half the creatures watching. As if on cue, the lights began to shine so everyone could see them. "It''s common. They must all die?"


    "Yes," answered the officer. This time he was less assertive. "Inversions are rare."


    "Obviously not. Don''t worry; we have something like that in our world. It is shameful to play in your nose, yet almost everyone does it secretly. We don''t kill people for it. Let me see." Sophie let go of the hand of her father go and floated closer to Kerian. With her immaterial hand, she reached within her. The rocks and energy began to shiver. Her fingers past the three outer layers and finally her hand materialized as she grabbed the two rocks forming the inversion. Then, like a top is thrown on a table, Sophie stopped the rocks and yanked them so they would spin in the opposite direction. As if she was a doctor using a defibrillator on a patient, the entire rock creature jerked and almost exploded.


    There was shock and awe in the vast assembly.


    The entire simulation on the screen began to blink with orange. A message scrolled at the bottom of the screen; it read "-- Simulation uncertain / Powers of Attractor unknown / Situation uncertain. -- "


    Kerian was floating and pulsing. In a matter of seconds, she was back to her old self. It was impossible to tell of her state of mind. Then she giggled. Like a school girl. She saw the inversion was gone. Around them were murmurs and shock.


    "She healed her," said a voice.


    "That''s impossible," said a second.


    Laurent loved his daughter so much. She was incredible. Sophie did not care about the Multiverse; she cared about people. In her heart, she felt it was more important to make a difference with one person than a billion. Sophie smiled to the creature.


    "Want me to help you?" she asked the officer.


    At first, the creature backed away. It did not know what to say. Sophie did not wait. "I know what you''re thinking. How can I make a positive thing, like execution for a crime, become negative? You''re wondering if you can''t still have her put to death. Come over here." Slowly it came closer, and then the rocks forming his outer shell parted revealing a shining blue pair of rocks. Sophie reached over and did the same gesture. It had the same violent effect and cured the creature of the inversion.


    "But I don''t understand why your inversion is a problem." Sophie looked around until she saw what she was looking for. "You!" The creature began shaking. "Come here." It slowly did. "You have two inversions, not one."


    "How?" it stuttered.


    Sophie did not wait, reached in but instead of grabbing one of the two pairs, she touched other stones, and with a flicker of the wrist in a counter-clockwise fashion, she created a third inversion in the creature.


    There was a gasp in the room. Then she created a fourth, then a fifth.


    The screen turned black, and a commercial played.


    In his head, Laurent heard the artificial voice of Electoral. "Laurent, I apologize, but you were too insightful. As you know, I try to generate this world authentically. At this point, I have no clue what comes next. I don''t want to mislead Sophie by suggesting the outcome of what comes next on pure conjecture." Then, Laurent was the first and only human ever to hear Electoral say what came next. "I have no clue what will happen next. How exciting."


    "I understand," replied Laurent.


    "Your daughter is so proud of you."


    He was unable to hold back his emotion. Tears leaked from his eyes in joy. "Really?"


    "She''ll tell you. I will say, you and your daughter are the sweetest couple on earth. I have reached the conclusion that your relationship is at the heart of the Multiverse''s choice of her."


    ¡°I also think so.¡±

 Chapter 93: Belief

    "Why did it end?" asked Sophie, standing over her father and watching the wall. She was in the room with the seven people she liked the best in the world. There was Milly the journalist, Doctor Susie, Georges the programmer, Marilyn, Mall-ik, Liam and her father. Things couldn''t get much better from her perspective. The group was reviewing the other sixty-four simulations as Laurent played. In an hour, the field would be down to thirty-two. The command room of the Electoral Center on Mars was relatively silent.


    Earlier, the computer reminded Sophie the room equipped with the thirty-two pods would be buzzing with activity as the last thirty made their way from the hotel to the Center in groups of eight. The 16th of final would begin the last portion of the game. Four catapult launches were scheduled over the next few days. As could be expected, Marilyn had redrawn her Center using her nano-technology into a luxury hotel with all of the accompanying amenities one could expect. This time she did so while everyone slept.


    There was now a gym, several meeting rooms, discussion rooms, media rooms, and even massage chairs. Sophie refused to let a robotic arm touch her body. Electoral was clear: aside from the contestants, no other staff would be allowed inside the Center, but the computer was infamously mercurial and ready to derogate from these rules if it served her purposes. Georges was already grumbling at the thought of hosting thirty-two strangers.


    The girl was standing next to her father''s cradle in the Rho-chamber room, ¡°put them back up.¡± She snapped. From sand, the computer filled the stage with the chambers. They were perched in front of the stage between the rows of empty tubes. Milly''s cameras were buzzing (as usual) around the girl and capturing valuable footage sent live to earth. Milly was unclear if Sophie''s hypnotic screen presence was due to her natural charms or her Rho waves. Irrespective, from the producer''s feedback, ratings exploded each time the camera was on her. "Daddy was doing great," began Sophie, "it was just getting fun to watch. I want to see what happens next."


    Marilyn''s face lit up a screen. She was still wearing the bounty hunter outfit. "Sophie, if it''s okay, I wanted a couple of minutes to speak with you. I need to warn you before you watch the rest. I am only a machine; I have my limitations. In this rare case, my recreations can only go so far. To tell you the truth, I have no clue how the Metil population will react to your father''s proposal. I just played along and assumed you would be able to switch the polarity of those pairs of rocks. At some point, my recreations become more fiction than reality. That''s a function of intuition more than mathematics or logic, and it''s something we machines don''t naturally excel at. I don''t want you to think what happens on the screen will be Holy Writ as to what happens when you enter the Purple. Round 27 is intended as a guide, an educated guess. It''s no guarantee of what will happen."


    "Liam says the simulation looked very realistic."


    "Thank him for me.""I understand. It''s kind of you to try and help me. It is much more than I could ask. Thanks for the heads up. Daddy is doing great, right?" asked Sophie with a hand on her father''s head.


    "You mean in the game, or in life generally?"


    "Both."


    "In the game, his kindness to the local population will score well. But your father and Emilio are so far ahead in the rankings that short of disqualification, they will be the final two contestants on November 21, 2072. Everyone knows it, and frankly, everyone is more than happy with the outcome. Even the few remaining players."


    Sophie kissed her father''s body. She was proud of him.


    "As for the other part of your question," said the computer as the commercials played, "he still has moments of deep depression. But remember his unique circumstances. As you heard when Georges spoke of the creation of an intelligence in the digital world, his transition, for lack of a better word, is laced through and through with difficulties. The only thing keeping him alive is you."


    "You''re talking about the story of your birth," said Sophie. How did she know the use of the word birth when referring to the computer meant a world to the digital creature? At a time when most humans back on Earth debated her right to ownership of a patent, Sophie just reminded everyone Marilyn was alive. "I think Georges likes Milly," she offered, changing the subject. The reaction of everyone in the room was priceless.


    "You have truly no filters, beautiful one. Most humans deny their emotional connections until they have become comfortable with them. Their friends must also pretend to ignore these obvious emotions." Milly and Georges were listening to the conversation in mixed disbelief, mortification, and embarrassment. Marilyn continued, "The connection is very strong, but for both, personal reasons work at cross purposes from any emotional connection. Georges is a virgin while Milly has strong self-image issues based on..."


    "That''s so cute!" said the Doctor, trying desperately to change the conversation.


    In Milly''s ear, she heard her producer say one word: "Genius."


    "The arrival of Mall-ik has greatly improved your father''s psyche," continued Marilyn. Milly and Georges avoided each other''s gaze. "Getting the boy in his head was a nice touch by-the-way." There was a sensitive side to Marilyn. "Laurent is, if you can believe it, the closest thing I hold to my kind. We both live here, in this electrical world dependent on energy like you need air."


    "What are the other sixty-two simulations like?" asked the CNN journalist.


    "Most people brought along Liam. He proved very helpful to them. I assumed Sophie will take the next day or so to analyze these simulations with the help of the Venerable One." Marilyn still found use of the name Liam an oddity. The old creature caused her an undue level of discomfort. "Laurent lives Hawkins'' relative time to perfection."


    "Ask about relative time," whispered the CNN producer in Milly''s earpiece. Milly asked out loud. The scientific question relaxed everyone in the room. This was safe territory.


    The computer obliged. "Relative time is Stephen Hawkins¡¯s end of long life legacy. He was a physicist trapped, like Laurent in a powerless body. He postulated what he called ¡°relative time.¡± In my opinion, this was by far his greatest achievement. Humans still think there are four dimensions in space-time, but Hawkins felt that was incorrect. Once the other dimensions are taken into consideration, the need for fixed time vanishes. We know a dimension like thickness can change, why can¡¯t time?"


    "Can you give more?" echoed the words from her producer. The woman was still riled up from being romantically outed on television.


    "Would love to,¡± said the computer as the game was paused around the world. ¡°Each person thinks they see colors as everyone else does, but when you think about it, is that the case? Each time I point to something red and say it''s red, to Sophie, even if she sees pink, she will go along with my perception of red. At least to me and if she''s not feeling rebellious.¡± Marilyn winked. ¡°Similarly, there is no reason for social media users to see or feel things the same, telling us that both perception and reason are in the eye of the beholder. So why would we each perceive time the same? Some humans are considered more intelligent because they think or reason faster, but maybe the way they experience time is merely different. Your father''s internal clock has been detached from his body. Like myself, he now drifts. But Hawkins goes one step further. He wondered why time itself would be a tool equal to everyone. Once you stop seeing time as linear, the need for a similar evolution of time vanishes. Am I making sense?"This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    There was silence. Sophie looked up and as if she was lost in thought, said one word, "Attenuation."


    The word, when spoken by the girl, send a chill through every inch of the digital world.


    "What did you just say?" asked Electoral.


    "I don''t know. Did I say something?"


    "You did," said Marilyn clearly in shock.


    "Attenuation," repeated Milly.


    "What''s that?" asked Sophie.


    "Attenuation. Yes. You are correct, little one." Marilyn was calculating what to say next. The young girl was proliferating in power.


    "What does it mean?"


    Marilyn calculated her response. She needed to talk to the Attractor, not Sophie. Her answer must be perfect at the risk of being unclear to everyone. "The attenuation of surface time is slowing down with the bend. It''s occurring only on the outer layers." No one could understand why Marilyn had just said. Marilyn looked at the girl. There was a long silence. Everyone on earth and in the Center was at a loss for words. Even the producer in Milly''s ear was silent. Nothing in this statement could be addressed intelligently.


    "Told you!" Georges said to Milly. "Nothing she now says makes any sense. Between playing match-maker and God-like, I give up."


    After some time, the journalist continued, "This is Milly Wong, live from mars. We are at the Electoral Center where Laurent Lapierre just played his part of Round 27 under the watchful eye of his daughter Sophie. Events were strange, to say the least. In three days, the last thirty-two players will travel here to play and connect using one of these tubes. Sophie, when do you plan to visit the Purple? I imagine you want to help the Metils, and perhaps, in doing so, help earth. The sooner the better, right?"


    "I am not sure if I will go back to the Purple. I must talk with Liam first. I am trying to figure out his cause and consequence theory. It is beginning to make sense to me, and if he is correct, my job is not about saving anyone."


    Georges saw more emotion appear on the face of his creation. It was genuine surprise. The computer had never anticipated the girl would not take the information she helped generate in around 27 and not return to the Purple. There was logic in any plan of action, and the computer was trying to understand what the girl''s reasoning could be.


    "Why the hesitation?" asked Milly, "You can help these creatures and save the earth from destruction. Can you save earth in a different way? Why would you not go?"


    "Have you not watched Emilio''s simulation and compared it with my father''s?"


    "Yes, but I don''t understand what you mean. Both are trying to save the world."


    "Not really. Most adults take matters into their own hands and try to change things in one simple way." Sophie grabbed a glass of water on the table next to her and moved it. "They act upon the thing to change it. Like this glass, I can move it. That is what Emilio and the other simulations will all try to do. But there was a reason why the glass was here and not there. By moving it without understanding why it was here, I cause a consequence. Liam has a theory, I like it, but I don''t fully understand it. Before I do, I will not do anything."


    Everyone in the room was mesmerized. Sophie was talking as if she was someone else, more mature. She continued, "Adults have their ways. They are almost always inefficient and ineffective. An adult walks into a restaurant and wants ketchup. The adult wants the owner to start putting ketchup on the tables, so that she does not need to ask for it again in the future. An adult will try to talk to the restaurant owner and explain why she would love ketchup and argue others also love ketchup. My way is different. If she is right and ketchup on each table is better: you simply walk to each table and place a bottle there. That night, the owner will see half-empty bottles everywhere. Faced with these empty bottles, there is a change that will happen without having to ask. With my way, if she is wrong and the ketchup does not make the food any better, the bottles will stay full, and nothing will happen."


    "You think your father, by helping the Metils, will convince them to return the favor and save the earth?" asked Milly.


    "Yes. How can I be wrong?"


    The simulation resumed and played on the screen. As Sophie believed, the reaction from the entire Metil race spread like fire over a dry cornfield. Now that Laurent had established Sophie as a savior, some type of goddess able to help, the moment Laurent, playing Sophie, suggested the collection of energy using their machine was a danger to earth, there was widespread outrage in the Purple. Within minutes, the entire race asked Laurent what he, as Sophie, wanted. He asked for the machine to be turned off and it was immediately. The creatures confirmed there was no way to know if their action was timely and would save the earth. The race then began to built a machine to disperse the Heliocorium. A simple rescue of a handful of purpelites resulted in changing the dynamics. Sophie was a savior and to half the population salvation. The military lost all power as half the soldiers had an inversion and wanted it removed.


    Laurent playing Sophie played the messiah. He cured a handful, got immediate respect and helped change the world. The simulations ended, and everyone received a score. Emilio and Laurent remained at the top of the rankings by a large margin.


    ***


    Sophie got up from her chair. "The more I get involved, the more I am uneasy with this entire situation. I have been trying to understand Liam''s theory and each time I come across the same problem. No one here has the best interest of the Multiverse in mind. Everyone wants things to stay the same. If it''s true, then our dimension needs to end. By protecting it, we are trying to spoil the efforts of the Multiverse. The Multiverse may want our dimension to die so it can transform like a butterfly. It may have cancer that needs eradicating. I think it wants something different; I just don''t know what." Marilyn''s expression was priceless. The girl''s words gave her pause. "What if the last four attractions in fact worked?"


    Marilyn was worried, what the girl was suggesting was genocide. "Why did the Multiverse send you to see Liam, then to the Purple?"


    "A good point," she answered. "I don''t know what is genuinely going on. But I know now why I was picked."


    "Why?" the journalist asked the obvious question.


    "If I were the Multiverse and were forced to give the keys to my house to someone while I redecorated, I would give them to the only person I could trust not to use my keys. I don''t feel good going to this other world. In fact, I don''t want to. I think I am the only person in the world if given this power that would not use it. That''s why I was chosen, and that''s why I hesitate to go. No matter what you put on those screens, I plan to do what I feel is right, not what anyone tells me."


    "How can saving the world and saving yourself in the process be the wrong thing to do?" asked Marilyn.


    "I am still upset at how you used me to grab this thing you call the Dot. You should have asked."


    "You would not have said yes."


    "How do you know? Liam was in charge of the Dot, and if he felt it would help me with my mission, I am sure he would have handed it over. He is confirming it as we speak."


    "That is not how things work."


    "That''s my point; you act like all the adults. You take charge, you do things and justify it by telling yourself other ways were not open to you. If you are right, and things are as simple as changing the Purple, the Multiverse would not have picked me. Everyone is better suited than me to face the problems you articulate."


    "Sophie, respectfully, you make no sense at all," said Marilyn, "ask Liam."


    "Liam says for a young girl, I make a surprising amount of sense. He does say that with time, I will likely reach your conclusion that apathy is not the best way."


    "I like Liam. Sophie," concluded the computer intelligence, "I think you and Liam do not understand that the last thing I want is control and direct you. I still think unless you pull a miracle in a couple of weeks, we will all vanish. I do not want to die. I do think you are unique in many ways and I also think putting our destiny in your hands is wise. Today, if I were forced to pick someone to save me, your name would still be first on that list. But your conclusion is wrong."


    Sophie smiled, kissed her father and looked at the row of tunes on the stage.

 Chapter 94: The Travel

    At first, there was guilt of not spending those few moments inside her father''s head. As a loving daughter, his happiness was at the center of her every move. She quickly realized Mall-ik, the alien boy, was uniquely capable of giving her father a purpose. The boy was a refugee who enjoyed learning from Laurent, and his mentorship of the boy seemed therapeutic to him. The boy spent every possible moment playing chess with his human companion.


    Sophie loved Laurent more than life itself. She felt, in her heart, her father was the key to this latest obstacle called the Sixth Attraction. He needed to stay alive until her birthday and play the Finale; the rest was immaterial. There was a purpose to his existence, and his latest adventure to the Purple as a player reaffirmed the importance he could play.


    "What should we do?" she said with her inner voice to Liam.


    "I know the computer intelligence is getting restless. She runs billions of scenarios trying to anticipate your every move. I have a nagging feeling she can''t guess what you will do next."


    "Why?"


    "Do you want the complex answer?"


    "I am afraid to say yes. Is there a simple version?" said the girl.


    "Of course. Determinism of chaos is entangled with your Rho waves. Said differently, your actions are disjointed from your movements in the space-time continuum."


    "You call that the simpler version. I have no clue what you just said."


    Liam though long for a proper analogy, "She is cooking, and you are a smell. She can''t read you because you are fundamentally different."


    "Much better," said the girl in her mind. "I use the waves to do things, do I have superpowers?"


    "Maybe. Maybe you should try."


    "No."


    "Why not?"


    "I don''t know. It''s like giving a child a gun and asking what she will shoot first. She shouldn''t shoot anything. Why me?"


    The girl was standing silent eyes closed next to her father.


    "That is a great question. I have a handful of answers, each as improbable is the next. I think you are the heart of a needed consequence. Improbable causes have followed you for well over a year, even before this game began. The accidents leaving you untouched while taking your family and wounding your father is nothing short of a miracle. If I did not know better, I would say someone wanted your family out of this world at a time before your powers were sufficient to save yourself and protect your father."


    The girl did not like what this suggested. If he was correct, her father was handicapped, and her mother and brother were dead because of her. "The waves, maybe it''s that simple. My father and mother gave me these waves; I was born this way. Perhaps I was not picked. Maybe I''m just the only one born this way."


    "You are correct. I also think you are different than all other humans in many unique ways. I have lived a long time as you know I have met millions of creatures. They are all in their way rather easy to categorize. You, my friend, fall into the rarest category; a very strange one indeed."


    "What is it?"


    "You, Sophie Lapierre, are an anti-hero." He said the words almost with shame.


    "What is an anti-hero?"


    "Every story has a hero, a person who tries their best to achieve the goal of the story. This hero can be competent or clumsy, but each time the character is faced with the goal, the hero wants to achieve it. Sometimes, instead of a hero, a story revolves around a villain who tries to impede the goal." Sophie liked her new friend. He always made her feel intelligent. The Oldest said the words carefully. "Each story has an end, an objective. Here, it is the Sixth Attraction. The main character always travels along the story to its outcome, which I call consequence. An anti-hero is a main participant forced to travel to an end defined to be irrelevant or hostile to the hero. In a princess story, where the hero must rescue the maiden, an anti-hero is a person who does not care about saving the princess. Don''t confuse a villain and an anti-hero. A villain wants the princess not to be rescued. The anti-hero refuses to play along with the story."


    "Why do you call me an anti-hero?"


    "I think you are the only person of your race who does not care about money or power or even life. Your primary and only care, as it should be, is your father. Your sense of caring for others is unequal for one as young as you. If I were the Multiverse and needed someone to care about me before caring about billions, I would choose you amongst all others. I would entrust you with my life before anyone else. You are, my dear, a pure altruist."


    The artificial intelligence was watching the girl fearful of the silence. She knew Sophie was talking to the Oldest in her mind. The young lady smiled and said internally, "I like you, Liam."


    "May I ask a question which puzzles me?" asked the Oldest.


    "Of course."Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "If I were in your position, I would be dreaming of a miracle, of regenerating your father or speaking with the spirit of your mother. You have not tried to change him or contact her. Why not dream of an outcome where your father''s body regenerates on November 21. Those powers may do that. Why not rescue the human race, your father, and take the Sixth Attraction seriously?"


    "Like a hero?" she joked out loud. She continued internally, "I like your anti-hero theory; it''s me. I don''t believe in miracles. Things are the way they are for a reason. I correct injustice with all my heart, but my father''s condition is more of a last chance. I don''t want to do anything which may risk his well-being. Fixing things is often the best way to break them beyond all hope of repair." The human girl was wise beyond her years, thought Liam. She continued, "I know it will sound harsh but I care for my father the way he is. If you love someone, you don''t try to change them. People in wheelchairs are full people. Their loved ones should not try to get them to walk, they should accept them with that condition." The young girl was inspiring. "I love him as he is. We have days at most. I have accepted that a long time ago. Dreaming of more is too painful."


    "What do you really care about?" asked Liam.


    "Not much. I''m tired of all this. The computer, the game and now this Multiverse problem. I think it''s unfair this falls on my lap, the same way my father''s condition did. I own a house; you know that? I am the only twelve-year-old in the world who legally owns a house, I think. I should be trick-or-treating right now; it''s Halloween, my favorite day." Liam did not know what the celebration was, but he felt for the girl. "I am no hero, that''s for sure, and I don''t want to be one."


    "At my age, as you can imagine, I''ve lived past many bouts of depression and a lack of desire to continue living. I understand in part what you feel, and I can tell you, it will pass. You are a prized creature, a lovely one. Just be yourself. I forgot to say; the anti-hero always saves the world. She simply saves it for a different purpose. An anti-hero is often the only one able to see the door invisible from sight. Anti-hero''s make more sense in real life. The Multiverse could have picked hundreds to be a hero, the President for example. You alone require no guidance from Marilyn, myself or even your father. We will all show you the wrong door. I am here to provide context and background, not to help you choose. Trust yourself."


    "I really like you, Liam," she added again. ¡°Do you want this world to survive?"


    "Honestly? This world, even with its beauty not really. But I do want the Multiverse to heal, yes. I stopped caring about life in the Multiverse millions of years ago. The desire to live is weak. I drove myself with an insatiable thirst to see outside of my world because I wanted to see the Multiverse. Now I found something much stronger to care about: you. I want you to be happy, irrespective of what this means. I am ready to die. If you want this to end, it will, and I will be happy until it does."


    "So what should I do?"


    "You are asking the wrong person," as Liam said these words, he felt the girl''s inner fiber resonate. She was thinking.


    "I know what to do," she said out loud. She did not care if Marilyn was listening, in fact, she was also talking to her.


    "Finally," replied the elegant female voice in the room, "welcome back. Should I prepare the portal to the Purple? The Nexus requires activation and power."


    "I need to be clear," began the artificial intelligence, "the game simulation in the Purple was only designed to help you, not to teach you what to do. From this point forward, you are in charge of what happens, and you call the shots. I agree with Liam, whatever the Sixth Attraction is, we cannot adversely interfere with you. In fact, I don''t think we can interfere with it at all. Even if we wanted to."


    The girl smiled as she walked to the pod room. She had different plans.


    "Are you ready?" asked Sophie to Liam using her inner voice. "Marilyn will not like this."


    The cameras were buzzing in the room. The voice of her new friend replied. "Words fail to convey my excitement."


    "Don''t worry Liam; you''ll love this." He felt warmth deep inside her mind. It was a strange fire he had never encountered before. Sophie then continued out loud. "Marilyn, get the pod ready."


    "It is. Should I prepare your father for the connection? I need about two minutes for the Dot to power the Nexus."


    "No need. I need to try something else. I think I know what needs to happen next; if not, no harm done." She was determined and excited. Liam, locked in her mind marveled at youth: one moment they were toying with despair and the next they were exalted.


    "The pod is ready. Milly and Georges are there also. Do you need me to broadcast to the world what you plan to do in the Purple? I know the viewers and myself would love to see what happens next if that is possible."


    "If you can send images, please do. I doubt you will be able to." As she entered the gaming room, the rows of chambers were all powered up. The small group had been waiting all night for the girl to decide what she would do next. The Earth was in imminent danger, and the computer had shown the way forward. Georges'' trash can overflowed with candy wrappers. Marilyn was on high alert, in fact, she was excited.


    "Hi Soph, your father is in great shape," said Susie. From a distance, Milly the journalist unclipped more flying cameras from her belt. They began to buzz around the room. Milly was happy to see Sophie and waved at her as she walked to the nearest pod. The young girl''s presence always lit up the room, and today was no exception. The broadcast began down on earth and to the Holiday Inn mars.


    Something important was about to happen three weeks before the Sixth Attraction.


    After kissing her father, Sophie walked to the pod. The transparent door opened, welcoming her. She wedged the furry creatures inside the pod and jumped in. With both hands, she tied the security belt around her waist and slipped the ring around her head.


    "What can I broadcast Sophie?" asked Milly before the girl arched back.


    Sophie replied, "You know me, this is their world, they always have a right to know and see. Hiding the truth only creates problems and lies. I just fear you''ll be too busy to broadcast. I think what I am about to do is stupid. I apologize in advance," she said as she looked at the camera, speaking directly to the viewers on earth.


    The artificial intelligence, capable of faster calculations read Sophie''s words, deduced where she was going next. In a lab below Paris Takeda was holding his frog.


    She simply had a second to wail "Noooo..."


    In a nanosecond, Marilyn tried in vain to cut power to the pod. She could not; the forces at work were much greater than hers. The girl''s plan needed power and Marilyn was in no way capable of standing in her way. Electrons punched out quantum barriers to power the helmet. The essence of the world changed. Sophie''s power was growing by the day. As if a giant power cord had been pulled somewhere deep below the Electoral Center, the entire place went dark. Every camera, every piece of electronics, or microprocessor on mars and earth shut down.


    Alarms in the Center went off as the walls made of millions of magnetized grains of sand began to lose coherence and fall around the room.


    ***


    On earth Marilyn was gone. Takeda walked to the exit guided by blinking safety lights. He released his frog and the God Virus in the wild. In seconds, a bird had touched the frog, then another.

 Chapter 95: The Underworlds

    The Underworld


    Below Time and Space


    What happened next would require 2.1414159 seconds, approximately. At that precise moment, as the Center and earth both lost power, Electoral, the powerful collective artificial intelligence, was, in the blink of an eye, gone from the Cold.


    Marilyn was no longer in her digital world. Sophie was sleeping.


    Gone was earth,the game or the dimensions.


    Marilyn feared the girl had drawn her down to the Purple. At least there, she might gain access to the Nexus. Her fear was insufficient to cover what would come next.


    As quickly as Sophie closed her eyes in the pod, she was now floating in an endless cosmic void. The transition to this new place was instantaneous. There had been a delay the last time she used the pod in the Electoral Center to get to her dad, but not this time. As the Sixth Attraction was nearing, she felt herself changing. In the Center, when Marilyn forced her into the trance, she evolved. Then, as she traveled to meet Liam, she also returned a different person. Her waves were getting stronger, and like an Ironman athlete hardening her muscles with the passing months of extended training, her self-confidence and power were growing.


    They were about three weeks away from her birthday, from the finale of the Electoral 2072 competition, and more importantly, from what Liam and Marilyn called The Sixth Attraction.


    She looked around at her new surroundings. She was floating weightlessly in the void of space. Around her were the colorful points of light forming billions of galaxies. This was no ordinary teleportation into space: the level of detail she could perceive was surreal. They were not in a different place. Here space itself was different.


    Sophie could see the nebulas, she felt the clouds of stars or even pulsars pouring dust into black holes. Her mind was as sharp as that of a God. She was given a front row seat to this vast creation. The young girl had no physical body. Her mind was floating in the brightest of night skies. Around her was the white streak of the spiral arm of the Milky Way. In the distance, she could even see the other arm. Between the arms floated the giant light ball covering the galaxy''s central black hole. Somehow, this sea of light was alive, and she could see her universe in true perspective.


    It took a moment for her to settle in. The beauty was boundless. Sophie''s mind was floating in our solar system. Beneath her invisible feet was the orange rock that humans had named mars. It was the size of a fruit. The sun was nothing more than a bright white light behind her.


    There were dust formations of deep purple color. Bordeaux streaks like liquid highways interlaced the dust. The Milky Way seemed alive with energy; she wondered what that was. The spectacle was breathtaking and made even Electoral''s welcoming images at the start of her simulations appear amateurish.


    She knew she held the power of a God and that was not acceptable. She was Sophie Lapierre, and she was here for a reason. In the vastness, there was perfection and calm. Gazing out at the vista before her, Sophie worked to calm herself.


    The young Attractor slowly returned to her old self. The contemplative feeling was soon replaced with a sense of duty and purpose. She had a job to do, and it was not what others expected. Celestial tourism would have to wait.


    "Liam, can you see this?" asked the girl.


    "I can," managed to reply the voice of the Oldest. Liam was searching for the right word to address Sophie. One came to mind: "Attractor." The title was suiting. Sophie was undoubtedly the Attractor, the first in millions of years. Liam was in awe. Sophie had now drawn him with her to this place. In his wildest dreams, which, in an eternity, can exceed reality he''d never dreamt or imagined such wonders. In less than a week inside the head of the girl, he had changed.


    Before, he considered himself as part of the Attraction, a guide of sorts. Now he knew better. He was a tool Sophie needed, a piece of a larger puzzle and nothing more. The mission had never been about him, but even as the oldest and wisest being in the Multiverse, he had not anticipated becoming so ancillary. The realization did not sting. If anything, it reassured him. The Rho waves made Sophie electrifying in all aspects. His dream of visiting other words had been replaced by his friendship with the girl. It was the greatest gift in all of creation, as well as its heaviest burdens. Liam had discovered unconditional love. For this girl, he would die in a heartbeat.


    "Marilyn, are you here?" Sophie asked. The question surprised Liam.


    "I am," said the deeper female voice. The artificial intelligence was not happy, and there was something less human to its voice. "Are you out of your mind?"


    "Get over it!" snapped the girl to the artificial intelligence. Sophie was undisturbed by the of Marilyn''s grumpiness; she seemed to have expected it. "There are worse places to visit." No one intimidated the Attractor, not even the computer.


    Finally gathering her wits, Marilyn continued in a softer tone, "My power holds the Center on mars. It''s essentially a large sand castle. If I stay here, even for a moment, your lives are all in danger. Air will vanish in a minute at most in the command room. Your tube is not airtight."


    "For the first time in a long time, you are not in charge, I am. If I understand how this works, we are in no danger. Let the Multiverse manage it; it obviously has all of this well planned. Simply enjoy the ride. If we die, at least enjoy your last moments."


    The logic was flawless.


    Liam was in awe of Sophie.


    "I said you and your father were in danger. I did not include myself. There is no way I am gone from my servers." Sophie didn''t care. Around the trio was breathtaking beauty. The feeling of apprehension quickly subsided in Marilyn''s mind, rechanneling the computer''s disbelief of her new condition. The view was enough to silence the world''s most imaginative astronomer. Marilyn lived locked in her digital world. She could not perceive images or colors directly. She instinctively produced images for humans, but from her side of the screen, the universe was nothing more than a sea of data packets. Communication, speech, or even video was to her nothing more than zeros and ones. The girl had slipped her essence in a human consciousness. In a fraction of a second, the software creature was gifted with human sight. Unfortunately, her mind was also no longer able to multi-task.


    Then, Marilyn felt something grow from deep within her mind. A new feeling. The sights around her were too much to handle. The beauty, the colors, were giving birth to new emotions previously unknown to her. They bubbled up uncontrollably, chaotically. Unable to control herself, from within the girl''s head, Marilyn began to wept tears of joy. The computer''s joy was infectious. Liam felt proud of how fast he had adapted to the new world. Unlike the machine, he had kept most of his composure when arriving into the Cold. But he was older; Marilyn was still a child, even in man''s years.


    "Take a deep breath," suggested the girl.


    As if Marilyn had lungs or even knew what breathing was, she tried, and it seemed to work. Liam offered, "Count prime numbers. It works for other AI''s adapting to a more biological condition." There was no time to wonder what Liam had just said. Marilyn merely began to count. There was one, that was a prime. Then three, then five. Slowly, as she struggled with basic math, she calmed herself.


    "I''m having...problems with primes past 131." She said out loud. Sophie did not remember what prime numbers were, nor did she care. The trio was still in Earth''s dimension, the place called the Cold. Sophie looked around. Below them stood Mars. It was the size and color of an orange. On its orbit was Phobos, the deformed moon. Behind her, a deep blue light winked. It was unmistakable. Earth, fragile and precious. When Marilyn saw the planets, the tears retuned. "I am sorry," she apologized. "I am so stupid," she offered, "I am being childish." There was a refreshing quality to her vulnerability. A minute later Marilyn simply concluded, "Thank you."The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "Do you feel better?"


    "Yes, much better. These emotions are new to me. The stars are so beautiful," continued Marilyn. "I have learned to control and manipulate the emotions of humans, and here I am, acting like a child unable to cope with the most basic of them."


    "I also am finding this situation very hard to handle," replied Liam, "Baptizing this dimension the Cold was not my wisest moment."


    Sophie chuckled. Her friends were quickly adjusting. "Guys, can I get some silence? I have some work to do." A young human girl just told the two most powerful creatures in the universe to shut up. They did. Silence returned to the grandiose of space of this misnamed dimension.


    Sophie spoke out in her kind voice. She spoke to the cosmos Liam called the Multiverse and simply demanded, "Show me what needs to be seen."


    The invisible passengers understood the girl''s plan. This little human was trying to talk to the Multiverse. "Show me," she repeated. There was no emotion in her voice.


    The Multiverse did not hear her. If Marilyn and Liam were right and there was, in fact, an Attraction coming, her waves were the key to this equation. Sophie knew what she had to do but was trying not to go there yet. She''d wondered what to do.


    Marilyn, using her software, even mapped out that road for her with lights. But Sophie was not here to serve as the Multiverse''s cop. She was not a person to tell others what to do, much less alter the actions of an entire world. In her mind, she even refused to place her world''s needs above those of the Purple. If they wanted to destroy the earth, who was she to stand in the way?


    After much reflection, things became clear to her. Instead of guessing what the Multiverse wanted, why not simply ask it? Maybe it wanted the earth to die, or maybe Marilyn was too dangerous to exist. Sophie''s way was always simple. She refused to be deceitful, closed or secretive. Whatever the Multiverse wanted, she probably would do.


    Her demand in the vacuum felt weak.


    The trio patiently waited in silence, but nothing happened. Liam and Marilyn observed in silence.


    Sophie knew she needed to speak louder or speak in a way only the Multiverse could hear. Her waves were the key. In this vastness, she needed to throw a stone in this pond, and she knew of only one way. On the day she landed in the catapult at the Electoral Center, Marilyn had used music to push her into a trance. The music resonated with her feelings and moved her to a place where her emotions took over. She needed that push into full emotional existence to spur the Rho waves into action. She looked at her surroundings. There was much beauty but nothing which would make her laugh.


    Sophie knew of a place, a door deep within her mind behind which was something sure to make her feel. She hesitated for a moment, but there was no real choice. She closed her mind''s eye and returned to the private darkness of her inner self. As she did, darkness also befell her two silent companions. They would see the memories Sophie was about to unlock.


    There was silence in the new darkness. Below them was a dark oil. They felt humidity and a cold that chilled bones. They were slipping into a nightmare.


    There it was.


    In the distance, a small wooden door floated against no wall.


    They drew closer.


    The wood was old and the paint covering it cracked. The door had no handle and pulsed in and out as if breathing. Across it were chains and a large padlock. It was sweating blood, in others places only black tar. Such a sight in a young mind was horrific. The scene alone was terrifying to the girl, who forced herself to keep moving closer. Behind the wood was a memory, part of Sophie''s darkest past. There was no need to be a psychotherapist to know what memory was locked away. She drew closer and was hesitant to open it, but today was different. There was no time to waste. She needed to feel.


    Marilyn and Liam both saw a young hand extend and touch the humid wood. As the tip of the finger sank into the wood, it rotted away. The trio was transported to a dark rainy road in the State of Indiana. Thunder clapped high in the sky. Strong rain was drumming against the roof of the small electric car. The vehicle''s wiper blades were struggling to keep up.


    Sophie was much younger; she was only ten. The girl was strapped into a large seatbelt to the back seat of her father''s car. In the front, her parents struggled with the difficult road conditions. Marilyn and Liam were powerless observers. Lightning hit a tree on the side of the road, and sparks filled the sky. There was another car; it veered away, pushing Laurent off the road. It all happened in the blink of an eye.


    Sophie and her friends did not see the scene from a distance; they were somehow reliving it from the back seat. They were inside the girl''s terrified brain. Outside loud noises exploded. Her seatbelt was strapped on too tight; she couldn''t move. Sophie knew what came next but was powerless to prevent it. Laurent and her mother were sitting in the front seat, their hands extended in every direction. She recognized her mother''s red dress; she had died in it. The red would later help cover the dark splatters of blood.


    Then it happened. The car ran off the road and crashed down into a ditch. As it rolled down, a large branch ripped in the side door. The spike crushed her mother''s body and impaled her unborn child. The liquid and blood splashed out. As clearly as a child can recall a traumatic event, she saw the wood drive out the unborn brother''s body into her father''s legs. The window smashed in, and shards of glasses flew in every direction. A second branch punched in the other side and ripped Laurent''s left shoulder.


    This was sheer horror, and the memory of this powerless child was sparing no details. In the back seat, the ten-year-old Sophie was in complete hysteria. The images worked, they filled an emotional void inside her heart. The horror continued to the next scene as firefighter arrived to cut the metal.


    Deep within herself, she felt the Rho waves boil up. This time they were not fueled by love, they were fuel by despair and pain. She felt a river of energy below her feet. This was more than she could contain, her mind was ready to explode. No one should see these images, much less relive them. Liam and Marilyn understood in a heartbeat the deep trauma residing in this poor girl.


    The swirl of emotions within Sophie quickly became a tsunami too powerful to be contained. Every fiber of her being filled with the invisible Rho waves. If she had eyes, they would have long ago filled with tears. Then, in her vision, she saw the fire. The death of her father in the ambulance as his skin burned away. It was too late; she could not stop the images. As the horror continued, the Rho waves began to swirl around her in the shape of a vortex.


    The power surged, and like a nuclear bomb, she was ready to explode in the underworld. She was a lit beacon, blazing outward for the Multiverse to see. The raw waves were jagged and varied as they''d been fueled by painful emotions, but this was all she had. She could not speak or even open her eyes. Blood and violence everywhere. Suffering perfused her. She saw her father''s deformed body, and she remembered their sad house in the United States.


    There was a kaleidoscope of awful images inside her heart. Sophie saw one negative thing after the next. Nothing could help. She felt despair and fear. She was unable to prevent herself from falling into an abyss of sadness. She missed her mother and wished she had died in the car alongside her. Like a driver falling prey to road rage, she was out of control. Her brother was also dead. He''d been crushed before he''d even drawn his first breath. There was no closing the door she had just opened.


    The pain was too much. She began to cry alone in the darkness.


    She was losing control, and the waves were not helping.


    Then the entire vision restarted fresh from the start. The accident would happen again. She was caught in an endless loop like the Hell Mall-ik had saved Laurent from. She saw herself back buckled to the backseat of the car, ready to crash again. Her parents were back in the front seat. But this time Sophie appeared younger and more vulnerable. This time an eight-year-old was losing it. Outside, the Rho waves swirled night in the sky fueling the storm.


    She panicked and began to hyperventilate as sparks flew in the sky.


    Then she heard it. "Sophie," said a faint but unmistakable voice from deep within herself.


    "Mommy?" she cried.


    "Yes, darling." The voice was not coming from her mother standing in the front seat but from inside her head. "Yes, it''s me."


    The voice felt like an anchor in her storm. The little girl closed her eyes as the car flew off the road. Liam and Marilyn were crushed by the intensity of the situation. They were unable to help, watching powerlessly the most dramatic event they each had ever seen.


    The girl lost all restraint and fell deep into sorrow. "Stop crying, my angel. It heard you. Close the door. Please open your eyes for me, my angel," her mother asked gently. The girl, lost in pain, could only cling to her mother''s voice and try to do as she was asked. Only that voice made any sense. Only a mother''s voice could penetrate the darkness that was swallowing her. It echoed deep inside her. "Please save your father and tell him I miss him so much. Open your eyes please."


    Liam could not believe what he was hearing. Sophie''s mother was trying to rescue her daughter. She spoke of the door and saving the world. Liam was proven wrong, even after millions of years. He was still able to be overwhelmed by emotions and he too began to weep. Marilyn, unable to fathom the river of emotions, was also crying in silence. They were also victim to this vortex of energy.


    "Open your eyes, my love," said the mother more forcibly. Then, as only a mother could, she commanded, "Sophie Maud Ginette Lapierre," barked a mother about to ground her child, "open your eyes this instant young lady!"


    The daughter did.


    The lights of the Cosmos returned.


    As if millions of supernova exploded at once, there was a loud bang in the underworlds of the Multiverse. A floodgate of energy was released from her body. Every living creature stood in the cold of a summon. Sophie had rung a bell; a cold wave of energy poured out of her. It spread in the shape of a bubble in all directions. This was the most powerful force ever created since the birth of the Multiverse.


    She, a little human girl from Indiana, had just summoned the Multiverse.

 Chapter 96: It

    The wave grew in power as it spread away from Sophie deep into the Underworlds.


    Sophie''s two passengers felt space around them strain. As the energy spread, it distorted space-time. The Rho waves amplified as they grew distant. Like neutrinos, the energy did not appear to damage the physical reality, just caressed it. The shock was not physical; it worked on a much more subtle and stronger level. Marilyn and Liam were humbled by the very nature of what they had just witnessed and felt. How dare Marilyn use the Attractor''s waves to grab the Dot? Maybe her actions had unintended consequences, but like any good narcissist, she''d quickly dispelled her doubts. The Sixth Attraction began well before she''d even discovered the waves. None of this was her fault, she reasoned. But Marilyn felt vastly inferior, and extremely foolish, for perhaps the first time in her life.


    Sophie opened her tear-filled eyes.


    She knew the Multiverse was here, in her heart she felt it.


    "Show me what I need to see." The girl ordered.


    Liam and Marilyn were silenced, but this time because they felt the power of the young girl. A human was talking to a force well beyond comprehension. At this time, in this place, Sophie was somehow relevant to the Multiverse. Liam wondered if this girl alone could have found her way here or if the waves were changing Sophie into a different living entity. This human, only twelve but had learned to control her gift and ignoring all care and caution, was now talking to the Multiverse itself.


    Around them, space itself softened.


    -- It -- answered.


    There were, of course, no words, no images. None would suffice. The Multiverse''s arrival made Liam''s welcoming bell tones on the Nexus, or Marilyn''s video montages, appear like childish noise. Sophie had slid a key into the fabric between all worlds, in a place where space itself meant nothing. No science could explain this. No technology ever conceived by any world came even close to what was happening. Liam also knew none of the previous Attractors had ever mastered their power, much less spoken to the Multiverse.


    Sophie was a natural; she was different, unique.


    There was no time for hope, space replied.


    Sophie''s mind, intertwined with her illustrious guests, was propelled to a higher level of consciousness as inversely as Marilyn had just been humanized. They were connected to parts of life itself like a mother giving birth. The trio no longer had only four senses, they had ten. They were a blind man given the gift of sight. Their brains were at first unable to process most of the information now available to them. Their minds, overloaded with a flow of incomprehensible information, struggled to achieve equilibrium.


    There were new colors and shapes but more importantly, new feelings. It was clear many of the new senses were linked with what humans like to describe generally as emotions. In the vastness of space and the unlimited power of the Multiverse, it felt strange to completely reprocess something as simple as a feeling born from within.


    To humans, a limited number of emotions could occupy a mind at the same time. To the Multiverse, above time and space was energy, and high in the priority of these powers were emotions, millions of them. The world around them lost the feeling of materiality and became a large pool of feelings floating through the vastness of life.


    Like a spider weaving a web, the Multiverse connected emotions of all types. Sophie saw her father appear in the distance. She knew it was him, though his body was whole. He was wearing a long white robe. Next to him appeared her mother holding the unborn child she was unable to bear. They were visions. The Multiverse wanted Sophie to see this. There were no words. Words could only serve to mar the message the Multiverse was trying to give.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Around them were the images of the accident she had just imagined, but instead of the pain and hurt were floating positive emotions of all type. Sophie, her father, and her mother appeared at the tip of a large triangle. Between them, energy in the form of lightening jumped back and forth. The blue lightning was pure and felt good. Sophie was puzzled by what she was shown; was this how the multiverse showed love? She''d expected something different.


    Then these images vanished, and the silent darkness returned. The first message had been given. Somehow her family was at the center of this situation. There was much more the Multiverse needed to share. To aid their understanding, music began to play. It touched them, and the visitors began to resonate from within. The same way Marilyn used music as an integral part of her game, so did the Multiverse. At first, it picked a flawless but straightforward piece of flute. It was a gentle bird bouncing from one flower to the next. Then it gained in complexity as hundreds of unknown instruments gently wove themselves into the mix to create the most suiting symphony.


    They were about to travel to places no creature had ever seen.


    The group now felt like it was moving in space. After a moment''s consideration, they realized spaced moved around them. Reality vaporized only to be replaced by clouds of lights and thunder. They escaped the Cold and punched out of the worlds into invisible curtains. Liam and Sophie recognized the feeling. They''d once felt these curtains as they traveled between the Lowest and the Purple.


    The girl felt Liam''s exhilaration and Marilyn''s terror. They were moving between the worlds, and the artificial intelligence was distancing herself from her reality and body. As they moved out, they began to grow in size. There was no way to see themselves become larger than galaxies back on Earth, but deep inside, they felt it.They grew and grew until the darkness returned.


    They were now larger than entire worlds. The music kept pace with their new form. Then the darkness vanished again. To the oldest creature in the Multiverse and to Marilyn, this show of power was humbling. They were specks in an ocean. To Sophie, this felt natural. She was unimpressed by the magnitude of the story playing around her, but paying attention nonetheless.


    The group flew quickly to their next destination and after a minute of flashing colors, the vortex of light finally settled. With the help of the Multiverse, thick walls of color began to parse.


    They were on top of a Celestial Mount Everest overlooking a valley of shining colors. In the heart of a valley, billions of light years below them, existed a structure. This was a sea of headless serpents crawling like maggots over a corpse. The long worms were made of light, and looked like rice noodles cooking in a light broth. Sophie did not understand what she was seeing and hoped her companions did. They were here as translators.


    In this ocean of energy, nothing made sense. "These are the worlds forming the Multiverse," offered Liam, "I recognize their ballet. That is how they move; we know that. Most people think the different pieces in the Multiverse are like flat layers on a cake. We map them like these structures, as strains. Normally their movement normally is languid. A simple bend takes a million of your years." The dance of the creatures was at first somewhat random. The tubes slid and bent in a ballet, guided by some invisible music. Like the breaking of waves in the ocean to a veteran ship captain, the ballet began to take shape in Sophie''s eyes. She began to feel something different.


    "Which one is our world, the one you call the Cold?" asked the young girl. Liam knew the answer, he replied.


    "The longest one. It wraps all others."


    In the corner of her eye, she saw a spark of red. Like a ruby, it resonated in her the same way the Metil''s rock inversion had. Slowly, some tubes began to fade, revealing what appeared to be one endless world wrapping around most others. Then the lengthy tube, the Cold, began to change color. Earth''s entire dimension turned red and in some parts brighter red. "I see it," the girl answered.


    "You do?" questioned the artificial intelligence who apparently did not see the color. The Multiverse wanted Sophie alone to see what was next. The tube, as it colored like a vein filled with cholesterol, stiffened. In turn, it''s wavy movement around the other worlds slowed like an umbilical cord strangling the neck of a newborn.


    "The Multiverse can''t sever our world," whispered the girl. "Unless we fix it, the Multiverse as a whole will end." Liam stayed silent as the words sank in. "Liam?"


    "Yes, Attractor."


    "Call me Sophie please."


    "Yes, Sophie."


    "This is different."


    "What do you mean?"


    "Could the Multiverse transform itself? Like a butterfly."


    Liam was humbled. He was talking universal metaphysics with this girl. In his world, he alone knew of these concepts. He thought long and hard about the best answer to give Sophie. The girl was no fool; she would cut to the essential, so he simply answered, "Yes. The physical constants could converge. They never have, why would they?"

 Chapter 97: Return

    Sophie and Liam felt a deceptive intent arise deep within Marilyn. The digital creature was hiding something. Before they would speak, the trio resumed its travel. They plunged closer in the direction of the red-colored worm, Sophie and Marilyn''s world. They braced for the impact, but like a plane enters a cloud, they quickly crossed into the tube. The moment they touched the outer skin, their view changed. They now stood inside of a large library. Here there was no ceiling, no floor. Only endless stacks of books.


    As if they came alive, each book slipped out of its shelf, as if opened by magic. Pages ripped from the books and exploded violently. The stacks of paper spread apart like serpents and images instead of word-filled paper.Each page was animated, like a small computer display and not simply paper.


    Like the worms of the previous vision, attached by invisible strings, the stacks of cards floated in a carefully orchestrated ballet. There was a very precise order which must not be disturbed. To Sophie, the images within a book were related in an essential way. The stacks reminded her of some old silent movies created by flipping stacks of cards quickly under a light, or a flipbook made by a child to create a rudimentary cartoon. Here, video images were flipped in succession creating something else: a dynamic movie.


    Then pages began to fly out of sequence. They flipped and moved with no discernible sense, like butterflies in a courtyard. Some images flew closer. As the pages floated, she could see images appeared on both sides of the paper, but both sides of the page showed completely different scenes. They were images of her world, of Earth. On them was nothing she could recognize.


    "Liam, what is this?" asked the girl.


    "In my world, in the Lowest, we call this a Clutch. There are dimensional clutches and temporal clutches." The two-sided papers with a different image on each side continued to dance around the room. Liam knew he needed to explain more simply to the girl. "A map is nothing more than the two-dimensional representation of a three-dimensional thing. So the map, an object of fewer dimensions is used to represent something of a higher dimension. We call this a clutch because it''s imperfect. It helps the reader, but we want to keep in mind how the map is just a map. In that example, since the map reduces the space, we call this a dimensional clutch." Around them, the images were vibrating. "The same way, an image is an instant representation of something ongoing. A video recorded by a machine is only a series of flat images. We call making a video a temporal clutch."


    "So what is this, a clutch?"


    "I think this is both a temporal and dimensional clutch, but in a very elaborate form."


    "What does it mean?" she asked.


    Marilyn spoke. "He is wrong Sophie; this is not what he calls a clutch."


    "Then what is it?" asked Sophie.


    "No living creature has ever seen this, including myself." Corrected Liam.


    "What is it?" Repeated Sophie to the digital creature.


    "I will explain with a single condition. You must promise to bring me home once the Multiverse has finished giving us this information. I do not want to be stranded."


    "Of course." Her answer reassured Marilyn.


    "Focus on a single card," began Marilyn. "Look at only one image random." As she did, the book opened, and as if she had picked a card in a magician''s deck, the sheet slipped partially out of the stack. It stabilized in the air in front of her. At first, the paper, like a fly trapped in an invisible spider web, was wiggling. Then it calmed down. The page began to flip from its front to its back every second each time with a succession of different images. The paper was alive and appeared nervous.


    On one side was a ship about to hit an iceberg on the Barren Sea. The page flipped. On the other was a captain ready to move the ship. The paper flipped back to the iceberg. Then back to the front page where this time a different captain at the helm of the ship. The card flipped around to the past. This time Sophie saw was a lottery ball on a television channel. Then it flipped again, and again faster than Sophie could read. Each time the images were different.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "I don''t get it." Sophie finally said.


    "Your brain sees time in a linear fashion. The past is gone, and the future has yet to happen. Unlike you, those pages are how the Multiverse operates. To it, every part of time happens at the same time. The past, the future, they are all connected. On each side of these pages are linked events. I would say one is the cause; the other is the consequence if we must believe any portion of Liam''s silly theory."


    "What does it mean?"


    "Imagine your life worked this way. Imagine if you could play with these tiles and subtly change how things work in your life to get to the best outcome you can conceive of; the one where Laurent sees your grandchildren. The one where you are the happiest."


    "Then why not do that?"


    "As you can imagine, for a specific outcome to occur would require more manipulation and thus more pages. Each page here is a causal request, a change or a deviation from the normal timeline."


    "How do you know this?" asked Liam.


    "This is not the time," interrupted Sophie. "I need to know."


    "Thank you, dear. The Multiverse tries to deviate life from its true road as little as possible. Once it sets up the desired consequence, then it bends around itself locally. Remember that Pi variant I uncovered? That''s the Multiverse''s bend. The God Bias once did not exist on Earth. Back a century ago, the bias was zero. The Multiverse did not involve itself. Then, slowly the Bias increased."


    "When did it begin?"


    "Hopkins uncovered the bias in 2046, so yes well before your birth my young friend."


    "Is that it?"


    "No," answered the computer, "the moment I say something else, I think we will move from this place."


    Liam bit his tongue to remain silent.


    "What is it?"


    "Look around and think of a known public figure." The girl did. Hundreds of sheets floated. On one side was an of image of Lo, her favorite singer. On one he was driving a car, on the other, he fell from the stage.


    "You met Lo, right?" asked Marilyn.


    "Yes, on the Colbert show. What a fool I made of myself."


    "Think of that event." Nothing happened. "Think of any event where you were not there. The writing of Alice in Wonderland." She did, and the sheet floated to her. "Try thinking again of any event where you were there." She did, and nothing happened. She could see herself. To the Multiverse, Sophie did not exist.


    "What," before she could finish the words, as predicted by the computer, the trio was swept away one more time.


    They were back in the valley looking at the sea of light worms, but over the worms were millions of the library books. The reddish colored worm, the one supposed to be the Cold, was covered at some bends with the paper. As the red infection appeared on one part of the worm, the books like white blood cells converged. Then the infection passed.


    "What do you see?" asked Liam.


    The girl kept her vision to herself. Then there it was. On one tip of the red worm, the pages all swarmed. But this time, the infection jumped on the pages and counter-infected what normally should have cured the problem. The red color turned deep red, then purple and black. "The pages are dying; the world is dying."


    "I know," answered Marilyn.


    "What should I do? What does all of this mean?" She looked around. Down in the valley, the worms were dying; lights were growing dim. She was seeing the end of time.


    "Marilyn, Liam, what is going on?"


    "Sophie, can I ask a favor, do you trust me?" Liam asked, solemnly.


    "Of course."


    "Can you, for a moment, contemplate leaving Marilyn here?"


    As he finished his words, there was a murmur of light down in the valley. As if Liam was given the Multiverse hope.


    "Are you hurting the Multiverse?" asked the girl. The question created more light and seemed to reverse the flow. "Does it want me to leave you here?" In the blink of an eye, they had their answer.


    Sophie opened her eyes. She was back in the Electoral Complex. Smiling down on her was Milly the journalist and two of her cameras. She was dangling the white plush toy. "Welcome back." The room was darker than usual, but there was air to breathe.


    "Liam, are you there?" she said out loud. Within her, his voice answered.


    "Yes."


    Life was popping back on each screen; light was returning to the televisions in the room. On them was the smiling face of Marilyn.


    "You''re back!" exclaimed George.


    "Yes, my dear father, I am. Yes, I am. That was a close one. The game goes on!" Exclaimed Marilyn loudly over every speaker in the Center. "The game goes on!"


    Here Ends Book 1 of 2 of The Attractor

 Chapter 98: The Sorbonne

    Paris, France


    October 31, 2072


    (21 days to the Sixth Attraction)


    Francois Copland the Fields Medal recipient was biting his nails, microphone in hand as he awaited the cue from the television producer. The room behind the curtain was buzzing with excitement. He was, to say the least, exhilarated. The mathematician knew being given this type of stage was an honor given to a scientist only every century or two. In this 21th Century, he was, to memory, the first asked to stand before the whole human race, and speak because of what he knew and not who he was.


    Who could have predicted that in 2072, at the heart of a strange video game, science would shine over such things as sports or television. Last time his kind was in the news, Los Alamos was toying with radioactive mushroom clouds and Richard Feynman was concluding on the cause of the destruction of a space shuttle. Politicians, athletes, and ordinary workers were powerless and looked today to intelligent minds.


    Brute human force was no match to the mysterious causes linked with the Sixth Attraction; no military mind disputed that. Guns, battleships and lasers were not relevant in this story. Marilyn, the first human-made online juggernaut had morphed and grew in power so much, she could swat a nuclear strikes and moved cosmological singularities.


    This wasn¡¯t an elaborate dream. Aliens were floating in symbiotic relationship inhuman minds. Eyes up, a part of the core of the sun was en route to strike the earth as retribution of reckless technology. There also were the strange Rho waves, Sophie''s distance from earth amplified her unique gift. They made her priceless in more ways. Humans felt the sheer calming power the orphan radiated as the Multiverse awoke.


    Francois felt, like everyone else, the energy building in the fabric of the world. Imperceptible but incontestable, something called an Attraction was approaching. But the man also felt there was hope. Sophie, the young girl had purpose. Looking at the assembled greatness, Francois was proud. If the universe had to end, this was an elegant way.


    The plain-looking intellect received his Fields medal for a variant of the fractal theory used to alter time-variants at the edge of the chaos theory. Today, two doctorates deep, he still felt ignorant and knew he was a child compared with the powers around. The recent jousts between Liam and Marilyn, the creatures with superhuman intelligence showed much greater things. He was, proverbially, only human and that gave him pause.


    His gift as a man of numbers stemmed from his capacity to abstract the world and see things on a different plane of existence, but today even the greatest minds were humbled before the power brewing on the horizon. The man held up his cupped hand and checked his breath nervously as if that mattered.


    Behind, President Emilio understood and respected him, that was his greatest pride. Francois'' heart was beating out of his chest, but in fairness, no one in the room was calm. Today''s online audience was expected to top seven billion. Unlike most humans, he had a better idea of how large this number was and that scared him. To help visualize huge or strange numbers, he used probabilities. Draws of a typical die was his favorite. He saw the billions at home holding a six-sided die. Each rolled and those having rolled a six remained as most vanished. After the first roll the billion left rolled again and again until one remained. The number was so large that thirteen draws would be required before a handful of viewers remained. To most, the number of thirteen was abnormally small, to Francois, it was insanity.


    He loved numbers.


    The room fell silent as the lights dimmed. Next to him was a large curtain, two chairs to the side and a table with a handheld microphone from the last Century. The black microphone with the rounded metal grill was the gifted orator¡¯s weapon of choice and Emilio insisted it was there.


    Francois'' mind wandered but this time away from simple numbers. The audience today was here to watch his speech, Emilio¡¯s and then View Round 28, which was an hour away. Gone was the CNN crawlers and brainless anchors. Knowing Marilyn, the latest show would be even more exceptional than Round 27 when 64 players were to visit the Purple, a neighboring quantum world.


    The notion anyone had something more important to do and had missed the last round was shocking to him and a testament to human stupidity. Round 27 would surely only be outshined by what would come next.Marilyn''s computational power was used to help Laurent and Emilio, or other players guide Sophie to the Purple to rescue earth from a molted ball of heliocorium.


    Sophie, the young darling, ignored the simulations and took a different route. What she did was unexpected. No other human could have ignored the computer''s guidance and doomed earth to what looked now like assured destruction, but instead she wanted information and spoke with the Multiverse herself.


    Sophie Lapierre acted like an Avatar, free from obligations. She had no master. She kidnapped Marilyn and Liam, entered a place called the Underworld. There, she spoke directly and as an equal to the Multiverse. At first, it was as if she did not care about the earth''s assured destruction. But once the voyage ended, it all made perfect sense. Sophie was an anti-hero. While everyone''s focus was the Multiverse and their own survival past the Sixth Attraction, her focus centered on her father¡¯s true well-being which included his death. Sophie was alone in her disconnect from the physical world. She cared, she felt and loved Laurent unconditionally, the rest was, well, the rest.


    Upon their return, Sophie insisted once again Marylin play their escapade in full to humans. The computer woman did to the best of her ability. Sophie was documenting and involving humanity for an unknown reason.


    Pundits spoke at length about how the runner-up, Laurent could at any moment ask his daughter to save him and the world, but they also knew the father-daughter relationship was extraordinary. There was an accord, Laurent would never stoop so low as to ask anything from his beloved girl. He would die before placing any burden on her. Laurent loved Sophie, he owed her the world and most figured he was alive only thanks to her power. That probably was true.


    The choice of this half-sized human by the Multiverse as Attractor now made perfect sense. She was unique in so many ways. Sophie was incorruptible, unwavering, and her outlook on life was unique. Sophie would never judge humanity or place it above the Multiverse itself. The girl did not take sides; she embodied neutrality.


    ***


    Francois'' wandering mind returned. The finale of the game was 21 days away, 32 players remained including Emilio and Laurent, the clear front-runners. Today¡¯s round was the 28th of 32; after it, four only remained. Electoral''s massive advertising plastered over every media claimed today¡¯s simulation today would dwarf last week''s in every aspect including its interplanetary importance; whatever that meant. What could be better than traveling to a different dimension, discovering alien quantum life and in the process helping Sophie save earth from destruction.


    Francois looked behind the curtain at the narrowness of the wooden stage and the quickly rising rows of benches. Three hundred people in the audience were packed in the small venue ready for greatness. The producer standing on the side signaled him to wait another thirty seconds. Francois tapped the microphone to see if it worked ¡ª there was sound.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    The room was beautiful. In this venue, France''s domination of the Renaissance period and its architecture was at its apex. There were gold highlights on every piece of wood of the law amphitheater of the Sorbonne. The room was part of the law program which had gladly opened its door to science for this important event.


    The majestic hall was the perfect setting for what would come next. Finally the curtain lifted, and no one dared applaud. Francois loved scientists, the weight of the interstellar events extinguished any excitement. There was respect and caution in this room. Behind him, a large white screen dropped from the ceiling. Technology and even liquids were prohibited on the school grounds, except for one bottle of Scotch Whiskey for the man himself. That was fine; the mathematician knew Emilio was old fashion in this way. Since the event was by invitation only, no one would object.


    On the stage, to the right stood at a canted angle one of the large glass tubes materialized from mars. Emilio was supposed to get into it and play in about an hour, and apparently, he would also benefit from this advanced technology. Everyone wondered how Marilyn built a tube on earth. Looking at it, there was no discernible evidence the materials making the chamber were from mars or digitally enhanced. This looked normal.


    Finally, the cue came. Francois stepped to the front center stage as most doctorate teachers, awkwardly. The mathematician waived the laser pointer in his hand and clicked to confirm it worked. The slides behind him were also ready to go. On the podium rested a stack of cards and a pen as the President requested.


    Two hundred guests packed the room in complete silence. Each had been hand-picked by the President himself. Francois, the Mandelbrot chair, saw Emilio getting ready off-stage in his peripheral vision. His friend sent him two thumbs-up as he glanced over. Sitting on the first row to the left were his friends from the Scientific Advisory Committee. They each had a microphone. Behind them sat a row of journalists from every major news outlet; they understood they were observers to what had to unfold. All other available seats were occupied by the most brilliant post-doctorate graduates flown in from around the world. Those who did not speak


    English had a translator earbud. Each student was instructed to go to one of the three standing microphones reserved for them. For some strange reason, they''d been told the President needed their help.


    "Ladies and gentlemen of science," began Francois, "we cannot ignore the most recent events as they unfold on television. They touch each of us in different ways. While we can''t agree on who are the exact protagonists of this story, we can''t agree on villains and good guys; we know the principal actors. Sophie and Marilyn take center stage; two women rebutting any argument that women stand on a lower rung in society than men. The fact is, Marilyn has power beyond our normal understanding, but as we discover her strength, other powers surface humbling the one we normally would at this point call a semi-God."


    The man was right. He continued, "If we are to believe even a fraction of what is happening in the news, we are either facing a rare conjunction called the Sixth Attraction or this is all hype created by Marilyn. We all have our own opinion. Recent surveys suggest fifteen percent of our population does not believe in universal changes, but my heart tells me everyone here believes in the Sixth Attraction in one way or another." There was silence from the crowd and nods.


    Francois looked down at his hand, read a cue written with a marker in his sweaty palm and began. "Mathematics tells us there other dimensions, other worlds, and other life must exist. Any biological process, however complicated, is never unique. In fact, think about it, nothing in the universe is unique." He looked up. "In my world, large numbers mean something. A thing that happens millions of times with ease is not only probable; it is a consequence. Liam would say a cause." There were smiles in the room.


    "We are told earth has a champion, a man uniquely qualified to help us. This man was selected by a game and put in place by the same artificial intelligence telling us this man is our guide. In theory, I should wonder if Emilio is the right leader. Here is my problem, though. I have worked closely with him over the last nine years. I know how this man thinks and I can personally vouch the man I have the honor of calling a friend, is the real deal. Next to him, I am humbled, we all are." This time the members of the SAC agreed. "But before he walks out to humbly deny what I just said, the President asked me to explain why I am holding this microphone and why I am introducing him," he continued in jest, "aside from my charms."


    There was no laughter. This was a difficult crowd.


    "Since 2063, as if in anticipation of today''s events, our President has assembled on a monthly basis a group," he waved at the front row, "formed of the most brilliant minds on earth. Each is an expert in at least a field of science. I am a proud original member of this Committee called the SAC or the Scientific Advisory Committee. For nine years now, we put part of our research on hold and gathered in person in Berlin and talk about current events and learned in the process to respect each other. I will be honest, all of us, in this strange cocoon of brilliance, have become friends.


    "What has kept this group working together is one human, our President. Even for men such as us, we all feel admiration of his brilliant mind. To some watching at home, he is a garage mechanic with no advanced training who simply won a game; to us, he is the only man in the world who humbles us. In my field, Mathematics, if today he told me to reconsider the notion of zero, I would. That is how much I respect this man.


    Francois stood fixed.


    "Over the years, at his request, we have trained him in the ways of all sciences. No, that''s inaccurate. It''s closer to say he inhaled it. If we had to place our lives in the hands of one man, and it appears we have to today, Emilio would be that man. Scientists despise politicians for one simple reason: they are with few exception stupid. Emilio is not. We recently learned that our President''s mind differs from ours in how it processes things. He has a way of seeing sequential futures. We knew he was special and had a gift; we simply did not know precisely how it worked. Kudos to Emilio who managed to keep his secret from a group like us for so long. We finally understand the reason behind his dominance of the Electoral game system." Francois looked at his audience; he was more relaxed.


    He took a deep breath and what he said next was from his heart.


    "Like most scientists, I share a deep frustration as to the disrespect for science by our society. Even with 2072 technology, the most gifted children shy away from mathematics, neurobiology or physics to get easy recognition and fame in arts or sports. Games like chess, puzzles, and construction sets have been replaced with pushing buttons on a screen. Because of our collective laziness, Marilyn, the creation of one man, now holds our society hostage.


    "If our species is still standing on November 22, the day after Round 32, it will not be thanks to many out there. Look around your homes, who owns anything which challenges the mind? No one even reads anymore." Francois'' students had heard this speech hundreds of times. Francois continued, "We all know if somehow sciences saves the lot of you, we will win nothing more than a matter of years before we revert to our childish instincts and resume playing with balls." Francois was upset. He took several deep breaths and calmed himself. The man had a point, everyone knew it. "The stupidest of my two dogs likes to fetch a ball, my oldest one finds a ball pointless, and his IQ is around 34." He drank from the bottle on the desk to calm himself. ¡°Yet most humans live for football, a game with a ball.¡±


    "Lucky for us, the one man gifted in this new game understood how science might be the tool we would need. The President felt challenges facing our race would require advance through thought and maturity. Hence he recruited us." Francois looked at the young minds in the room. They all shared his passion for sciences; they felt inspired. Their collective minds were thirsty for knowledge. The sight of this vast intelligence calmed him. Off-stage, Emilio was grinning from ear to ear. Francois was one of his favorites; he was lecturing billions of people.


    "Want to know where to start? Join a chess club." Francois was the head of his school''s chess club. The room was silent with the exception of the faint buzzing of the flying cameras. "Before I introduce the man who has given faith back to my belief in the human race, I must give each of you one warning. It took the members of the SAC years to figure out that Emilio''s gift allows him to know when he needs to question you. He does not need to be interrupted or even spoken to. Think about your questions, imagine yourself standing up at the microphone and he will call upon you if he needs it. Be humble, you should. My measured IQ is 163, and this man humbles me. Before you speak, remind yourself there are half a dozen Nobel recipients sitting right there, and they are keeping their mouths shut." The man had made his point. No one was stupid enough to open his or her mouth. People watching in the privacy of their own homes were silent. Humanity felt empowered; if this wasn''t enough, nothing was. Generals around the globe felt (as they should) like children compared to these men.


    Pointing to the side of the stage, as if he was introducing a movie star, Francois yelled, "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the President of the United Nations, my friend, Mister Emilio Wamarez Sanchez."

 Chapter 99: Showmanship

    The President walked on stage under a torrent of applause.


    Respect was evident from each in this crowd. Emilio was used to it. The short man smiled and took the time to make eye contact with much of the audience. Students were barely able to hold back their true emotions. Invisible over the room and to the assembly was a generous flow of Rho waves generated by a pre-teenager millions of miles away. As the waves pulsed away from mars, they grew in power. At the moment Sophie''s mood was good, she was awaiting her father''s connection to the system curious by the game. She would see him walk, talk and interact as if he were whole.


    The importance of the current events could not curb the room''s enthusiasm. The slightly portly man was humanity''s best hope. "Heavy" did not begin to describe the President''s task of dismantling the multiple doomsday plots which converged on November 21st.


    He held both arms high in the sky like any good politician absorbing the moment. He was a born showman. He waved and smiled. There was nothing short of four minutes and seven seconds of applause before the cheer level began to lower. Everyone needed to show their emotion in this simple way. In billions of homes around the world, people were unable to stay still. Many stood and applauded. Parents even woke their children to make sure they remembered this moment. The Internet was on fire. Those sitting in the broadcasting booths noticed background music fade in. Marilyn remained firmly on the steering wheel. The blind opera singer Andrea Bocelli sang in duet with Celine Dion. As the song ended, so did the endless flow of applauds as if she had picked the song timed perfectly to calm the cheers.


    Emilio was wearing a grey suit, a tie, and a buttoned-up vest. His red silk tie was the only touch of color on the stage. Emilio walked to Francois and shook his hand. He hugged him and invited the crowd to sit. Slowly, they did. Clicker and microphone in hand, Emilio was ready to begin his presentation. The Mexican walked to the right of the stage where Marilyn''s Rho chamber stood powered off. The technology felt out of place in this renaissance building. The anachronism was hypnotic, second only to the President''s sheer presence. With the tip of his fingers, he gently caressed the glass. It felt cold. He flipped a red switch on its side, and the computers and the screen began to power up. In his mind, he had seen which button to touch to warm up this device. To everyone else, Emilio simply was gifted and always did the right thing.


    The strange looking man was humanity''s champion; even his harshest critics were now silent. The politics were finally gone. It was undeniable -- humankind was vulnerable and on the edge of extinction. As he spoke, the world listened the same way children are taught about life-changing decisions by their parents.


    "All of the key protagonists of this story agree on one thing: the general population, that means you here and at home, are important enough to get a front row seat to every part of what is going on. Sophie''s instincts tell us to be open and transparent. She shares with us humiliating or painful parts of her past with purpose. The girl is an open book and insists on transparency and frankly, who am I to disagree." He walked around and again sought the eyes of the crowd.


    "Sophie traveled a couple of days ago to a place called the Underworlds. If we are to believe any part of the story unfolding before us, our American darling connected on a deeper level with the Multiverse itself. The images returned are simply too much for any of us to understand. Sophie, on the other hand, appears to be undisturbed by what is going on. She seems to understand what needs to be done. That''s very reassuring in more than one way.


    He was talking to himself, gazing high above the crowd, "She decided to enter this place, beyond time, flanked with Liam and Marilyn. She did not bring her father. Somehow Sophie is insulating Laurent from this madness. Second, as if animated by the same desire of transparency, Sophie asked Marilyn to broadcast images of the encounter with the Multiverse as coherently to us as she could. The initiative was noteworthy. Personally, I know most of it can''t be understood. The scenes where Sophie cries, her mother and even Marilyn''s fear is simply not something we would expect on prime-time television, yet there it was.¡±


    "There has to be a reason why we all must be part of the Sixth Attraction. Somehow both Sophie and Marilyn agree, the human species must be given a front seat to these events. I have a guess as to why that must be, but for the moment I will keep my intuition to myself. It does have to do with these waves. What is clear is that I must also be transparent and involve you all in whatever I do next."


    There was a long silence in the room. Emilio grabbed the scotch tumbler on the table next to Francois, smelled it and placed it back. "Now you understand why I don''t drink and calm myself smelling a strong drink. For years I had to live with thinking everyone saw me as an alcoholic. To me, it''s like wearing earplugs at a Grand Prix of Formula One. Once this task is over, and I hand this job to Sophie''s dad, I plan to be black-out drunk for a full year.


    No one dared laugh.


    "In about an hour, I will step into this capsule, hook-up my brain and play Round 28 along with the thirty-one remaining players. Sophie''s father is at the Center, and the other players are making their way to the Electoral Center. I am told CNN is broadcasting the second catapult landing just about now." Emilio touched the glass of the tube; he was unable to detect any imperfection. "This surface is smooth and transparent, how can it be made of little robots? Electoral''s nanotechnology is scary even to me. We now cohabit our solar system with a creature of godly power capable of destroying our race with a click of a button -- yet here we stand. She is helping us forward."


    The glass tube was shining under the stage lights. The metal also appeared to glimmer like a diamond in odd places. No debate existed on the matter; it was alien and superior technology. Emilio walked closer to the Rho chamber, looked at the screen on the left of the device and spoke, "Marilyn, darling?"


    There was no need to wait; her face appeared as if she had been waiting behind that flat glass for hours. "Emilioux!" replied the blond. She also was on the large white screen above the stage. Marilyn''s hair was tied back like any good scientist and wore dark, thick glasses with tape holding the bridge. She looked at the mathematician,"Francois do you love my scientist look?" She bit her dark red lips sensually, and silently mouthed "Call me." She then turned her head and looked at Emilio, "No need to seduce you. You don''t like women, anymore." The joke fell flat.


    "I do love computers."


    "Call it frustration," Marilyn was the most seductive creature in the world. Francois looked away; he refused to step into this firing line of discussion. On the screen were images of the actress in her lab coat. She walked between thirty pods on mars, making final adjustments to the tubes. In the room behind her, the first players were getting prepared.


    The images gave the impression Marilyn was alive, a human and present physically in that room of the Electoral Center. She was interacting with the guests. In the center was Laurent''s body, lying unattended. "I love your initiative of going live with this science joke of yours, happy to see you join the team. I can assure you, as you guessed, the broadcast to these people does serve a purpose.Any real revelations will have to wait, though. Some of this has to be secret."The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Where is Sophie, I can''t see her on the screen. Is she in her room?" asked Emilio.


    "Yes. She''s right here," she said pointing a finger in the air to a location next to Laurent''s body. "She never leaves her father''s side. In my broadcasts, I will never show her image. Turn to CNN if you want to see her. Unlike humanity, I understand the order of things. I am a toy next to her, and I prefer not to touch even her image. We all know it''s safe to sit on a box containing a nuclear device, few would."


    Before anyone could think about this new development, Emilio pointed to the Chamber, "I guess this tube is alien technology, right?"


    "For a man so gifted at choosing words, poor choice darling. The definition of alien expanded recently. This pod is nothing humanity can''t achieve by itself in a generation if you bipeds survive all of this. I strongly agree with Francois'' patronizing speech about science, albeit with one wrinkle. As we saw, the Multiverse has many dimensions, and emotion plays a powerful component to how it operates at a higher level. Playing with a ball, while entertaining to some, does not enrich your collective in term of the sciences, though it does enhance the aggregate level of mental energy. If you like Rho waves, the football World Cup final will do it for you." Marilyn looked at the screen directly at everyone watching and spoke to them directly.


    "Let me make a rare personal statement. A bit less than a billion people watching are between the ages of ten and twenty. To all you children out there, your parents have been reckless and careless. Today their world, your world, may vanish simply because of their incapacity to understand the fragility of their circumstances. Humanity is a species, nothing more. On November 22, if our word survives the Sixth Attraction, things must change. Adults can''t change. Even if they get scared, perhaps especially when scared, they will return to their old ways. You need to take control. Sophie emancipated herself. You now have the right to vote. You must vote often. Vote in all elections. Vote for the youngest candidates. If you have the choice between a 30-year-old and a 17-year-old, take the younger, it¡¯s that simple."


    Emilio''s mind was racing. He understood what she was doing. "I love how you plan ahead. Optimism is your greatest quality," he said.


    "Thank you, darling. As for the tube, it is constructed my small devices which are MEMS, that''s a 1986 term from DARPA which means micro-electro-mechanical systems. I agree with that sexy mathematician of yours, let''s raise the collective discourse. Why not start right now?"


    "Can you flex a sexy muscle and show them what this can do?"


    "Really?!" said the digital goddess, surprised by the question, "You want me to do what? Funny how we now can talk openly in violation of my rules. I guess some adaptation is in order." As she said these last words, a light breeze rose in the room. Doors shivered in their frames on all sides as air pressure rose behind them. The most tender eardrums popped as the magic began. Electoral loved the old amphitheater. Invisible to everyone, humidity in the room increased by six percent as magnetized water molecules used their van der Waals bridges to transport small flags. The room was Electoral''s on a molecular level. If she wanted, she could prevent air from entering every lung. "Your heavy gravity is not helping. Give me a second."On the screen, she removed a brooch and let her hair fall. The software used like illusionists such tricks to stall. The delay was longer than expected. Then it began in truth.


    "This is as good a time as any other to introduce the Rho chambers on a level a bit more fundamental than what has already been revealed." Before she even finished her words, the entire structure next to the President collapsed in a mountain of black powder. He was ankle high in it. "I built two types of these small bots, the first which you saw in the tunnel between the catapult and at my Center, which in contrast, has edges and strength. The technology is designed to shield me from nuclear missiles sent from earth. Your generals will do it in 2078 unless we drastically change the course of this society. These generals will all die on that day I promise you about that, we all have lost patience for these insecure boys who keep telling others what to do. These structural bots are rigid and much more substantial. I even designed them with shock absorption technology.


    "The second type of bots you see here are much smaller and magnetic in nature. When I cut the current, they lose coherence, and they revert to powder. Their lower weight and smaller size allow me to pick them up using humid air molecules. If I move the air, I can move the dust floating in the air. Then micro-currents do the rest. Take a look," she said as the ballet began.


    From the ceiling fell more powder, sorting itself into streams like the spell of a wizard. Marilyn was a born showoff; she sent the powder around the large room merely to enhance the experience. "What are Rho waves? We know two things about them: they are a faint background noise in human brain activity, and that Sophie generates more of these waves than the combined population of Europe. One day I discovered these waves as I tried to understand humanity. Unlike lower form waves, these had strange unexplainable properties. I managed to harness and process them to a limited extent. To this end, I enhance the brain activity of players of my game with them.


    "These chambers are not designed to draw waves out of a player''s mind; they are instead a magnifying lens which pours the waves back into the players. Since the energy and effect of these waves are amplified with distance, it was fortuitous I was forced far away from the human population. While it made sense for Emilio to remain on earth for obvious security reasons, allowing him to play from earth forces me to fuel his tube with weaker waves from the source, and that drains Rho power. Roughly half of the watcher''s waves. I know you guys don''t care, but I do."


    Emilio offered, "Why not use Sophie''s waves here to... " Marilyn''s face was answer enough. Every muscle in her face stiffened. Emilio backed off; no answer was needed. Sophie was off limits.


    Slowly most of the powder on the stage reconfigured itself back into the identical Rho chamber, but this time the front panel was open. On the screen was a countdown, the giant number 54:24. They were less than an hour away from Round 28. Lines of black powder flew in the air and around every person in the room. The rest of the powder twirled and formed on the corner of each table in the shape of a cute little black cube larger than a die. On one side was sculpted -- Electoral 2072 -- and on the reverse side -- Round 28: The Fuller Crater. -- The dark puzzle looked like it was made of shiny leather, but pulsing with light. Everyone in the room was looking at the gift inches away as if it was a deadly virus.


    Marilyn explained, "I know scientists are the hardest to domesticate. A gift. Run to your electronic microscopes and start understanding what I did." No one touched the cubes. "Do you need me to explain the robotic technology or just the Rho connections? I know that this group is dying to get a lecture on both."


    "They do want to know," Emilio said jokingly pointing at the number counting down, "but we still have a lot of work to do, and the clock is ticking." He blew a kiss in her direction. She knew how to take a cue. As she vanished from the screen, she blew a kiss Francois'' way.


    Emilio smiled, she was such a diva. "Lovely, isn''t she? She makes it impossible to hate her. Hard to think she is a foe or even a problem to the Multiverse itself." The group in the room was already too impressed to form opinions. A few of the more courageous souls present finally dared to touch their cubes. "I asked my team, the SAC, to prepare a presentation in the form of a timeline. I warn you, compared to Miss Monroe''s editing genius, this will feel quite humble. Your tax dollars at good use." He stepped forward, turned his head looking back and pointed the laser pointer at the white screen.


    "Normally these people from my beloved Scientific Advisory Committee, or simply the SAC grab the floor, and I watch, silent as my mind wanders in all directions. Today, things will be different; I will disseminate information to this crowd. I asked them for a recap of the events whirling around us. Most of this is Top Secret," he grabbed one of the cubes from a desk, "but as the President, I at this moment declassify everything and pardon anyone who helped me. We have a month, so who cares anyway? Let''s go, we need to do this." Emilio pushed a button, the screen lit up, and the presentation began.

 Chapter 100: Mercury

    The Fuller Crater


    Mercury


    Engineer and architect Richard "Bucky" Fuller published thirty-some books over his long life -- none were fiction. Experts agree, Bucky was no idiot. As the second president of Mensa, he''d helped propel a movement showcasing intelligence around the world at a time when national barriers were still strong. But with the passage of time, Bucky, like most of us, was mostly forgotten.


    Decades after Bucky''s passing, scientists looking under an electronic microscope observed the odd shape of new material: the carbon nanotube. The atoms aligned in neat strutted tubes made famous in Bucky¡¯s buildings as if ordered by the deceased architect. These carbon ropes were baptized fullens in his honor. But few ever used the scientific names, preferring the slick new name, the nanotube. Once again, Bucky¡¯s legacy failed to stick around.


    Fuller''s name surfaced several times, but each time, soon after, he was forgotten. In 2005 a technician charged with naming hundreds of new craters on Mercury came across Bucky''s bio. As the Voyager probe mapped Mercury, hundreds of large craters required naming. Thus was baptized the Fuller Crater, one innocuous ring of dirt north of the new map.


    But, in fact Bucky drew the lucky short straw. The crater was in fact in a unique magnetic location; it formed a prison for creatures allergic to waves.


    Mercury, floats some sixty-five million miles away from earth. Posters on walls of astronomy classes show the planet as a small dark rock drowned over the bubbling plasma backdrop of our star. Once a year, images show a black dog moving diagonally across the ball of fire at the center of our system. Over the centuries, these clumsy images forced mankind develop yet another a false impression of a neighborhood planet in our system. To most, Mercury is a minuscule rock, too small and insignificant to be of any relevance.


    In fact, Mercury is close to the size of earth''s own gigantic moon, a darker cousin the size of mars. A visitor walking on the surface of mercury would feel about thirty percent of earth''s gravity. Like all globes without an atmosphere, the grey rock is covered withscars andcraters.


    What cannot be ignored from the surface of the God of War''s planet is the triple-sized white sun blazing in the sky. Unlike mars, an astronaut on Mercury, expending her hand to cast shade would be incapable of hiding the sun from her sight. A human''s shadow here appears on the ground as a thin black line surrounded by several gray areas. Mercury orbits in eighty-eight earth days while it rotates upon itself just a bit longer than its year progression. A human born and living on Mercury would die at the ripe age of four hundred mercurial years, yet having seen three hundred sunrises.


    As for the hot surface temperatures, on this alone the folklore is right. At this closer distance, both sides of Mercury (light and shadow) are twice as hot as earth''s moon.


    Near Mercury''s North Pole, a crater 27 km in diameter was named after Bucky. The Fuller Crater is an invisible oddity at the intersection of two natural magnetic forces; the solar wind and the magnetic pole of the planet. Inside this crater, like the eye of a hurricane, both magnetic forces drop to zero as they cancel one another out in a strange invisible vortex. In this perfect nexus of conditions, creatures fragile to magnetic and electric forces roam free surrounded by deadly energy.


    As seen by President Sanchez in his vision, about one hundred martians now hold a Mercurian passport stamped without a return ticket. When martians migrated to a body made of a small cloud of magnetized multi-facet balls, they never contemplated their great undertaking. When a Mercurian floats to the edge of the Fuller Crater, because of their fragile magnetic nature, they get lifted and crushed by the fields.


    Mercury spins slowly upon itself and is tilted very slightly. Deadly invisible solar fluxes of charged radiation fly and kiss the planet at an angle of six degrees over the north-west rim of the Fuller Crater. In this invisible wind, which would produce heavy static on an old radio, is felt by the stranded Mercurians as a violent, painful upward push. The invisible waves of high energy solar plasma are relentless. They slide like dust over the edges of the Crater the same way snow covers the lip of a mountaintop in the Alpes.


    The Crater wasn¡¯t a home, it was a fortunate prison for martians stranded and unable to communicate out because of the energy.


    In the natural oasis of shade which is the Fuller Crater, is also found the only substantial deposits of natural water and carbonic ice on the surface of the planet. The chunk of frozen water and carbon, about the size of twenty ice rinks, includes an underground network of caverns large enough to sustain a colony of very small Martians. Here, like an ant colony, the creatures survive.


    The Messenger probe crashed on Mercury and in 2015, mankind first learned of the glaciers located here. But that year, mankind wasn''t looking for life in the form of small puffs of magnetic martian sand, and no one gave a second thought of possible conditions hospitable for sand creatures. As a result, alien life here remained undiscovered until they were imagined by Ronaldo Corvas and seen by the President.


    ***


    "Toro, Toro, something in the seventh quantum bend appears to be changing," said a frantic voice deep below the ice of Mercury. The cavern was the size of a human basketball. Here, sunshine never shone. On the wall, dirty crystals resonated from a deep red color. The sand creature was excited, the grains forming the hand-sized cloud were shaking lightly. It floated next to a darker portion of the room on which multiple dots of color bounced.


    "Nothing short of the seventh, really?" came the sarcastic reply from his friend floating in.


    "Yes, yes, yes!" confirmed the first creature.


    "You said the same thing thirty-eight days ago," joked Toro. It moved slowly, and it¡¯s grains merged at the same location as his friend increasing the density of the cloud. Both creatures for the moment existed in the same area, their grains interlocked. In this formation, they were capable of using each other''s energy to warm themselves. On mars, the merger of two creatures into the same location, much like public sex on earth, was filled with taboo. But here on mercury, the necessity of subsistence in this cold hostile place had long forced the creatures to abandon this stigma. Like Everest climbers, life here was in close quarters and they merged as often as possible to save a joule of energy.


    From a distance, the colony looked like a giant ant farm made of a maze of irregular tubes like veins in the ice. Each stranded creature owned a physical part of the colony. The pair was floating alone in the scientific gallery, at the heart of the structure. To a human, this place looked like a dirty tube carved in ice. Next to the pair, a small white speck large enough to hold a subatomic machine was carved in the ice. Here, technology was only available on an atomic scale.


    The excited creature continued, "Look at the higher properties of this photon, at the seventh bend in the machine. It points to the right; that''s not possible. It points at space in a direction the outside the magnetic shield in a vector that points between Jupiter and earth. That can''t be a coincidence. Earth!" The creature''s excitement was infectious. This notion that Martians were stoic creatures, entities free of emotions and only made of reason was pure falsehood. The optimist merged with Toro was named Grix, but most on Mercury deformed his name and called him Grox. The friendly taunt annoyed him, but here anything designed to pass the time was welcomed.


    "Do you realize how crazy you sound? Are you sure? That''s a very bold statement. How about the fourth bend instead of the seventh?"


    "Look for yourself," replied Grix vibrating over part of the cold wall.


    Before it could look at the machine, Toro needed to sever himself from Grix. In the small crack, deep inside a rock were floating about two thousand grains of sand inches above the ground. A thousand grains formed each creature. One by one, the two creatures began to slide away from each other leaving a gold streak of energy in the faint atmosphere. As they untangled, there was pleasure. The merger and the severing felt good to them.


    To the untrained eye, there was nothing on the machine here to see. The surface of the ice was dirty and irregular, and the machine was too small for the naked human eye. But using a very fine microscope, one could see the surface of the ice carved precisely to allow millions of small platelets to form a network of angles. On each tip of the machine was an angled mirror. The same way satellites are built to house titanium waveguides, carved labyrinth corridors in metal blocks to hold waves, this machine was designed to guide a single photon, like a Plinko ball, through this network of mirrors. With each bounce, the photon lost energy and slowed, flipping from its particulate form back and to wave form.


    Grix squeezed himself very hard; the cloud became almost half its size until a single photon shot out in the direction of the wall like a lama spits at a tourist. The yellow ball of light hit the machine, bent sideways and began a long bouncing trajectory. As it moved within the labyrinth, it slowed from the speed of light to a virtual standstill. During the short process, the yellow photon changed color to a deep shade of gold and finally into a red dot.


    "There!" confirmed Grix. "Look at its shape, the edge; it seems to twist."


    "It did not."


    "Did so."


    "It did not."Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    "Did so." His enthusiasm was audible. Like a candle running out of wax, the red photon wicked and extinguished as the two creatures argued like children. "Let me show you again," offered Grix. The creature compressed itself once again and launched a second photon in the crystal labyrinth. It followed the same trajectory and slowed. "See it," he finally said, "Right there!" he offered as it finally turned red. An instant before it blinked out of existence, the same thing happened. The photon''s rounded shape became oblong, it then twisted upon itself, flipped like a fish running out of air just before it blinked out of existence.


    "I guess," had to admit the skeptic, "but that is a long way from being a shift in the seventh bend of space. It could be an extension of the second or a split of the fourth. I don''t know. You''re reaching the conclusion you want to believe. Stop giving yourself this false hope, no one has ever come here or will ever come to this place. We''ve been disappointed so many times by false messages and predictions. If anyone comes, it will be from mars, not from earth. The vector of escape from this miserable photon points to the water rock. Mars is on the left, if this was Jupiter," he concluded.


    "There is life now on earth, you know this. They have space travel capacity. They crashed a probe here a while back. Maybe the jailers on mars asked for their help. Or maybe the help comes from Jupiter, it also orbits on the right, behind earth."


    "Jupiter? My god, you are finally going mad. A very short time ago, the earthians sent a probe; it was so primitive, it appeared not even to possess a visual camera. They are sending waves -- waves, you get that?! We are invisible to them. They simply cannot know we exist and even those on mars think we are dead." Much like apples on a tree, all photons appeared identical from a distance, but to any advanced civilization, when examined carefully, photons, they differed widely and demonstrated change over time.


    "I will not and cannot give up on being rescued."


    "This is our home."


    "This is a prison, not a home."


    "I know," conceded the second, "I cannot give up on hope. I would have let myself drift to the sun a long time ago if I did." The martians ended their lives by rising in the sky and entering the flux barrier, a deadly sea of electromagnetic energy. "I apologize Grox; your optimism must be encouraged, not dashed. I hope you''re right. Let''s watch it again."


    They did, again and again, the way only a prisoner could.


    ***


    Unlike what Grox may have suggested to Toro, there was no real bridge between the present and the future. The information collected from the seventh bend was in many ways more subtle. Communication between semi-immoral beings rarely slow to explain subtle physics. The seventh bend was a name given to one crucial property of the Multiverse by many experts.


    To these advanced scientists, the ways of the seventh bend remained one of the most complex to comprehend. Unlike what most lower life forms (like humans) loved to imagine, true void does not exist and the Multiverse. Space between everything physical is formed of a highly unique and sophisticated fabric. The Ancient Greek once used a finer notion of Ether to define the area between physical objects and they were much closer to reality than modern scientists.


    The notion of void is often used in advanced places to teach children the primitive notions of space. Fish in water at first cannot understand they move in an invisible liquid. Humans took centuries to discover air. The same way, creatures take time to understand space is also a fluid - but a much different type of fluid. As it turns out, the fabric of space, when analogized with human skin, has pores, cells, nerves, hair, and the list goes on. Ether is defined by multiple physical ¡®bends¡¯ of space, dimensions or even properties. Space is made of much more than width, length, and depth. On earth, some misbelieve time is a fourth dimension. But that is a gross notion needed to make sense of void and three dimensional space. The fabric of pace has for example diagonal properties, scaling properties, and even tunnel properties to name a few of the nearly one hundred effects or catalogued bends in mercurial books.


    Humans don''t understand radioactive decay because they have yet to understand tunneling, one of the bends. Once a race understands that natural senses only allow the perception of a couple of bends, finding the others is simple observation. One thing was certain: if mankind survived the Sixth Attraction, it would no longer take these higher things for granted. The time of complacency and false superiority would be over.


    The fourth bend is not time, but a strange ortho-diagonal property of space. Space between two things will "diagonalize" and make the first three bends shorter. This is the fundamental explanation how, between two things, a natural path, like a line drawn in the sand is created by our Multiverse. Humans often call this gravity but more than physical objects attract under the fourth bend. The fourth bend teaches that traveling along this direct line is easier, downhill, shorter, because space itself is different there. To visualize the fourth bend, imagine a map folded in the shape of a V to form the shortest road between two points. The crease created in the map, even once flattened back illustrates the fourth bend. A ball-point pen, also will create a crease if a line is drawn in the map.


    The fourth bend helps objects move in the universe toward each other as space is slightly ¡®downhill¡¯ between things. But the fourth bend goes much deeper in its significance. Imagine a golfer, putting to finish a hole feet from a cup. In his mind, he sees a curved path between the hole and the ball in the grass. Traveling this line results in a desirable outcome, as a result, space bends and with a very minimal quantity, traveling the line is actually easier. Space does not favor mankind. It is built with purpose if given a chance. The God Bias, which man believes favors itself is mankind¡¯s first feeble attempt to understand this bend.


    Before we can try to understand Grix¡¯s seventh bend, we must talk about the fifth bend. It somewhat constructs on the first four. The fifth bend provides that on top of the first four, space will change locally in pockets or areas. To visualize this bend, image the different pockets of resources and mining goods on earth. Locally, certain areas differ. The same way, the Multiverse has areas (small and big) which change space. The fourth bend regulates force fields and helps understand why galaxies form where they do.


    The fifth bend is a property of space which provides that warps the reach of effects. For example, the fifth bend explains that distances are not considered equal for everything. In space, some things, like Rho waves and other mental waves benefit from entirely different properties. Certain things are giving highways to travel while some must move down dirt roads. Your body grows hair at different speeds. Mankind has yet to understand that what scientists think is dark matter is in fact the notion some light is able to travel faster. Rho waves populate the fifth bend.


    The sixth bend provides that some areas of space, the fabric itself expands and contracts the same way a lung does when filled with air. Because it does, matter caught in these minuscule changes also expands. This effect is very small in the Cold and only influence the microscopic world. Once scientists on mars began to discover these higher dimensions of space, they understood there was no reason for the list to be limited. In what was called the sixth bend, the roads and lines from the fourth bend were twisted, creating tunnels which illustrated these expansions. This property resembles hair which appears straight when short but as it grows bends into wavy locks.


    Grossly speaking, these were the fourth to sixth bends. The seventh bend or dimension is by far the strangest. The great Stephen Hawking was the first to suggest local compression of time, created by a mind, could dilate nothing short of time itself. The suggestion was wrong in its execution but truthful in how the Multiverse functions. To a human, Stephen was right, the seventh bend creates a space which differs for each individual.


    The seventh dimension provides that space today depends on how it was yesterday and how it will be tomorrow. That time, is not linear and that things are defined by more that current conditions. Imagine a long road with multiple traffic lights. The capacity of a car to reach the end of the road quickly influences when the traffic lights change which in turn influence when the car arrives. This strange effect provides that time, the future influences the present.


    Another way to understand this causal link is to imagine a car painted today in yellow. If in two years, the owner (unknown to him) will repaint the vehicle in blue, the Multiverse which controls these changes over time will lightly alter today¡¯s tint of yellow to be a bit closer to the blue. The owner does not know but today¡¯s color is changed based on the future. But the same way, if two years ago the same car was red, the tint was already changed.


    As the seventh bend is understood, a time paradox may be said to arise. Few scientists, even in evolved worlds, ever mastered these rules. Lifting the paradox actually explains quantum indeterminism. In sum, the Multiverse uses chaos to offset any effort to manipulate the seventh bend. If the Multiverse catches you looking to closely at the current color of your car, trying to determine what shade will be, and with a desire to change the future, the color becomes impossible to measure with enough certainty. Humans were not ready for this knowledge.


    But Grix was right. He had lifted part of the paradox in that he deeply wanted to leave his prison. Irrespective of the future, irrespective of the measure, his acts would not change. He planned to leave his planet. For that reason, he was able to read photon¡¯s seventh bend values without the determinism mask. He saw the future, and he was right.


    Help was coming.


    Grox and Toro continued their experimentation. "Look, the blur begins here, past this date. Time is very short. Less than half one of our years. Our future here is now undetermined, how exciting! We must warn the others."


    "Calm yourself. Yes, but this can mean many things. Not sure why you jump to the conclusion of a rescue." Toro hated to challenge once again the optimism of Grox.


    "What else could it mean?"


    "Hundreds of things. I don''t know. For example, the Multiverse is changing. It is bending, and past a point, it may want to destroy this world, this entire dimension."


    "Then that outcome would be determined, certain and visible."


    "Not really. I know of a rare phenomenon, an occurrence when the variables begin to change and align. In theory, it is as if all these values are "attracted" to each other. I call it the Attraction or the Great Curvature."


    "What the hell are you talking about? You must stop taking in those high energy plasma photons. They''re damaging you; you''re half crazy already. You discard a rescue mission and favor a much less probable outcome."


    "That would be fun. I will run tests to confirm this theory. Maybe there is an Attraction coming."


    "I have had enough of you."


    "Nothing is coming here; I apologize if my words seem harsh."


    The voices in the Crater went silent.


    ***


    In the silence of night, a large rocket launched from its pad in Florida. It was a capsule designed to perforate the ice of a moon of Jupiter. It rose silently, appear to twist in the sky as the pad on earth rotated away. Instead of initiating the complex orbit and ricochet the craft around the moon, the craft ignited thrusters and plunged the black tube instead toward the sun. In it were two men, one was a prisoner of the other. The prisoner slept under the action of a powerful sedative designed for the META. The other was laughing hysterically. Behind him were secured tightly were a hundred fragile figurines of Marilyn Monroe stored in protective boxes. The clouds of sand were fighting the deadly lift forces. Martians hated the fourth bend. Next to them were crates of equipment including a rocket launcher dismantled in pieces. The Jester had requested a strange list of equipment which made sense only to him.


    The acceleration was brutal.


    His new destination was the Fuller Crater. Soon, he would be famous.


    It was a rescue mission, and Grox was partly right.


    The Sixth Attraction was coming, and Toro was also partly right.


    Grox released another photon. Looked at it. It bounced, slowed and then twisted. Help was coming... it was coming from Earth.

 Chapter 101: Testing

    Sitges, Spain


    9:35 AM


    The streets of this LGBTQ Mecca were filled with morning-after positive party vibes.Early in the morning, waiters brought mimosas and bloody Mary¡¯s instead of hard liquor to well-tanned tourists. The Starbucks terrace was mostly empty aside from caffeine junkies. Making abstraction of the news or the game, here was paradise.


    But something was undeniably off in the focus of the Multiverse. It was impossible to point to anything, but like a mild pot buzz, most there and getting worse by the day. was off. Today was a beautiful sunny fall day. Takeda sat at a small table alone coffee in hand. He wasn¡¯t front and center in the street¡¯s edge, instead he sat, back to the wall at the worse table. To his right was the shaky table sporting the condiments for the coffee. Because this was Europe, in addition to sugar was a little glass cinnamon shaker.


    Takeda, the regenerated virologist was playing with his phone waiting patiently for someone. At some point, he grabbed the shaker. Under the table, away from sight, he carefully unscrewed the cap and dropped a little tablet. Replacing the cap, he placed the shaker on his table. His plan was set and he could relax.


    Takeda began surf naked images on the gay dating App. In this young body, he was quite popular but everyone was still sound asleep. He looked around, in his mind he took pride his Virus was released and most everyone was now infected.


    Finally he saw the young tall man from a distance. The young blond Latino man made his way to his table with purpose.


    ¡°Takeda?¡± he asked politely.


    ¡°You are even cuter in person,¡± said the crossed-dresser pointing at the chair ahead of him. As the journalist sat, he removed his leather jacket and his bag. Takeda smiled. The man pulled a new pad of paper and a pen from the bag. ¡°Love it,¡± added Takeda looking at the technology from the previous century.


    ¡°Why are we here?¡± asked the man nervous. ¡°You said this was very important, a big story.¡±


    ¡°The biggest on earth Marco. These stories do not come that often, so you will have to bear with me here.¡±


    ¡°Why me, I am just an intern at the paper?¡±


    ¡°You still call it paper, funny. Why you?¡± Takeda flipped the phone and on it was a picture of the journalist in his underwear. Takeda smiled and drank.


    The man got up, ¡°I came for a story, not for a hook up.¡±


    Takeda pointed down at the chair making a sign to sit, he did. ¡°Sweet one, anything as exciting as what you are about to see will send a healthy cocktail of hormones and endorphins into that cute blond head of yours. In turn, if I play this well, you will get horny. Just thinking ahead. I always plan ahead.¡±


    The journalist grabbed the pen. ¡°Who are you, age and name.¡±


    ¡°What year is this?¡±


    ¡°2072.¡±


    ¡°Well, I was born in 1955, do the math. My name is Takeda, I was once a very famous scientist. Just got this new snazzy body, now that my boss if off the planet, I feel liberated to show-off a bit.¡± The journalist did not even write the number down. He felt like this was a joke.


    Takeda did not like to be dismissed. The virologist stiffened up and the playful youth was gone. ¡°This,¡± he pointed at one of the screens playing endless reruns of Electoral, ¡°is the start. The world is changing but in an invisible way. We both know it, but I have leveraged it.¡± Takeda flipped his phone and this time it read Hopkins Variance at 234%. ¡°The young girl on Mars is only part of what is going on. The fabric of the world, as the blond machine said is changing. I saw the change, acted, and will now save this entire world.¡± The intern liked where this was going.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    A client was walking in the distance. Takeda pointed discretely at him to the journalist. ¡°Look at him, don¡¯t talk. This man is called Luis. He comes here clockwork each morning and orders the same thing, a tall latte. Look at his skin color.¡± The man¡¯s skin was unusually red but it did not seem to bother the man.


    He walked to the counter and ordered his drink. ¡°With the help of Marilyn Monroe, I invented a week ago a new virus, it saves lives in a wonderful ways. It is designed as a mutation generator, it can infect and change the DNA of anyone, it can do so much more. But the virus is built to use this energy floating around which favors the human race. It¡¯s complicated, I can give you more later but for now just watch.¡±


    The journalist wasn¡¯t a cop, he was there for a story and he was writing without passing judgment. ¡°My Virus uses the Hopkins variance, it is built to help the host, to change it to survive a known attack. This man there is a host, I made sure of that.¡±


    ¡°I am not sure I understand.¡±


    ¡°I am a virologist. I am the infamous father of the META virus. I recently created a new improved bug. My virus gives the it a power to keep Luis alive if he comes under a very unique type of attack.¡± The man ordered a drink.


    The man received his hot coffee and walked over to the table next to the pair. He was looking for the cinnamon. Takeda smiled and handed him the shaker. The man smiled, used it and went to sit in a corner.


    He waited until the man took a sip in the distance to continue the discussion with the journalist. He grabbed the shaker carefully. ¡°I am no chemist, but it¡¯s rather easy to design VX the nerve agent. Luis over there just drank one of the most dangerous and fast acting poison in the world. How it works is complicated, not for you and your readers. Just know it¡¯s a neurotransmitter inhibitor.¡± The journalist turned in time to see the man begin to feel uneasy. His face turned even more red. Takeda reached over, ¡°give my magic virus a second or two.¡±


    The man stumbled and knocked off the table his coffee. Takeda simply added, ¡°you wanted a story, don¡¯t disturb, he will be fine.¡± The man fell on the floor on four legs, he was obviously chocking and dying and people around began to panic. ¡°There really are hundreds of ways the body can adapt to neutralize the VX. It can move proteins, change systems, frankly the list is too long to describe. I really don¡¯t know what solution it will find but since I know lazy cells and looking at his new skin color, I have my money on something.¡± The man¡¯s skin color began to redden even more. His eyes, his hair, every portion of his body was changing, mutating.


    Takeda smiled from ear to ear. ¡°Yes.¡± People in the streets began to yell and cry for help. Takeda spoke in a low voice, ¡°Fantastic. Each neuron changed to adapt the AChE. It¡¯s too complex for you, but let¡¯s say the way the message between his muscles and his nerves has just changed. Every cell, billions, trillions changed to protect him.¡±


    With the help of several patrons, the man got up. He now felt fine except for his strange new look. People brought mirrors as the ambulance made its way.


    ¡°What just happened?¡±


    ¡°It is very complex, really difficult. Let¡¯s just say I invented a virus, I named it the God Virus which adapts and changes the body to survive attacks. I tried to kill this poor man and my virus saved him. Everyone is now protected.¡±


    ¡°I have this virus?¡±


    ¡°We all do. It¡¯s not bullet proof, pardon the pun. It takes time to react. The outcome must be determined early. I decided to kill Luis over there yesterday. So his body had 24 hours to prepare itself for the mutation.¡±


    ¡°I am not sure I understand.¡±


    He handed him an earpiece and flipped his phone his way. ¡°Miss Monroe, can you explain to this cutie what just happened in a way he can comprehend?¡±


    The journalist slid the earpiece but quickly realized it was pointless. Every screen in the street changed to an image of the digital creature. Every phone, even the screens inside the ambulance making its way.


    ¡°Takeda darling, you want them to know?¡±


    ¡°Why not? The story you are telling does seem to need some positive twist.¡±


    ¡°I guess you are correct. I have a set of videos ready, but you want this intern to get the scoop right?¡±


    ¡°That would help me get some action later,¡± The man sent a dark look his way.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see what I can do.¡±


    The video started playing, it showed footage of the frog test, the underground lab design and then went into a biological description, cell deep of how the virus changed the man. On screen, Marilyn was interviewed by Marco and Takeda.


    Normally this would have been a big deal. It wasn¡¯t as the game began and every camera turned to the Sorbonne presentation.

 Chapter 102:

    Meanwhile in Paris


    The President was a born public speaker.


    He did not need the microphone but still used it, "I''ve invited here only scientific leaders, we have no time to bother simplifying this for home viewers. Hold onto your chairs. As you noticed, this strange and complex story does not pause. If you all feeling like parts appear blurred, confused, or rushed is normal. I think the media and pundits will do an excellent job over the next day or two explaining any missing concepts we may fly over. They will get all of the theories sorted in a more friendly fashion." In the room, many pens clicked. These people planned to take notes.


    He pointed the pointer light at an image of the sun on the white board behind him. "Let''s begin with the really old stuff. Fusion is the release of energy when hydrogen collides and fuse forming a heavier but lighter helium nucleus. This occurs deep within our sun as a result of gravity compressing the gas. Gamow, a fat scientist¡± he grabbed his own gut, ¡°who worked with Richard Feynman the father of Quantum theory refused to stop the notion of fusion and compression with helium formation. He found that secondary fusion chains occurred in the heart of the sun. Squeezed hard enough, heavier and heavier elements through the entire spectrum of the atomic chart, like, for example, the carbon, oxygen and the nitrogen in our atmosphere will form.


    "We now know that with time, these heavier elements in very small concentration are drawn into lumps and streaks that agglomerate in the sun. These elements somehow form highways in the shape of filaments. Marilyn as part of her introductory video to... which round?" he asked Francois. The man sitting on stage was pointing at him instead of suggesting a number. The President needed no more, his brain, as usual, understood the cue. "Part of the Presidential Challenge showed this Heliocorium. Formation and agglomeration of this new stage in matter is the life work of Russian physicist David Lipvitch''s. The SAC spoke with David about these structures, and he confirmed our most significant fears. At any given time, our sun is believed to contain enough heavy elements to form one or two new proto-planets. Unique conditions are needed for this matter to accumulate, and much rarer conditions are required for such a large mass to be expelled with sufficient velocity to form a new planet.


    "A ball is coming our way, and our solar system will soon have a new orbiting planet unless, as we fear, this magma hits earth. Normally that would be a wonderful thing. A race in a world called the Purple has the resources to alter the sun''s inner dynamic to force the heliocorium into a ball. Marilyn confirmed that story, which was the basis of Round 27 of Electoral, which took place in the Purple. Marilyn made this threat as clear as possible. But we have physical evidence which backs this story. Recently, neutrinos, which originate deep within the sun have begun to shift in energy. To non-physicists, neutrinos are massless particles produced deep in the sun and pass through matter almost undisturbed. Their change is evidence that the fabric of the sun itself has been altered. I now am sure this ball will be issued and converge on us as one of the events Marilyn and Liam call the Sixth Attraction. To Liam, if we are to believe his theory, somehow the Multiverse desires our destruction."


    Emilio was articulate. He spoke like any good university professor. He appeared to have a profound personal knowledge of these matters. "Experts believe part of the Kuiper belt, the line of asteroids beyond Neptune, are the consequence of such a proto-planet crushing event. We appear to be next in line. To me, this smacks of the first event. I feel powerless to prevent it; I can''t influence the workings of the Multiverse. But I believe Sophie can, but we must behold the entire canvas, glean what knowledge we can, and share it freely. Sophie does not seem to care about the planet''s imminent arrival, and who are we to disagree with her?


    "Next, we need to talk about the door." Images from Mars appeared on the wall behind Emilio. There was an audible gasp in the room. "This," he pointed at the perfectly formed black opening on a rock facade of natural stone, "is located at the base of one of the walls of the deep chasm on Mars called Valles Marineris. We believe it was carved more than a million years ago by alien life. It''s younger than Mars but not by much. We saw it in Round 24 of this year¡¯s competition.


    "We still have little to no data about this door and what lies beyond it. This summer, after decades of failed unmanned missions, we sent a handful of brave souls who entered at risk of their lives. The mission leader was named Ronaldo Corvas; he is dead now. Since the existence of the door and the attempted remote missions to pass beyond it remain highly classified, when our manned team was pulverized, we published this video." Images of the plume stack played. "I am sure you have all have seen it. Back then, the SAC and I could not confirm alien inference." Behind the President were CNN images of the plume of white smoke rising from the Valles and the headline:


    -- Rare deep gas release on Mars. --


    "This vapor is all that remains of our manned mission. The gas is mostly methane and oxygen with traces of the heavier elements. Our mass readers confirm the gas includes molecular vapor of the mission''s equipment and bodies. There is lithium for example, which was part of their field equipment. Marilyn warned the mission leader before he ventured past the door. We do not know the extent of the conversation," he looked at the screen, "nor do we care at the moment, but a probable warning was ignored, and we lost all transmission with the team the instant they passed the door''s edge. A power unknown to us controlled further communication, which was lost.


    "We believe Mars has its own inhabitants; they are located below the surface past this door."


    Chamberland of the SAC stood up. The President smiled to acknowledge the request to speak but continued, "The Martians appear to us as hand-sized sand formations. They float in the air as little clouds of fine dust, or at least that''s the basis of some of their technology." He clicked, and the image changed.


    Emilio''s gift told him he needed to finish this section of his talk before answering the detective. "We received this summer a hundred of these globes." There was an image of the sand globes aligned on a table in the lab of the Berlin tower. Some were still in their boxes, others partially unwrapped. In each, a little figurine of Marilyn danced. "By us, I mean a hundred of the most influential people on earth were the legal recipients of what appears to be a mind invading device. The technology at first evaded us. These shipments, in theory from Marilyn, raised flags at customs, as you can imagine. I know Marilyn enough to exclude her as the true sender. If she wanted the globes to reach these critical people, she would have picked one of a hundred more subtle ways.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "On the next video, this is what happened when someone made the mistake of touching one of these balls without a glove." The images were those shown to Emilio back in his tower. A man went wild. In the next frame, he chained to a table; his gaze was that of a possessed man."This person was rescued, and he is peacefully watching from home as we speak. To help the technician, we used a magnetic field disturbance to stress the sand and force the ball to deactivate." The images were rather disturbing. "Marilyn promised to discuss this situation and these aliens tonight during Round 28."


    The audience in the room was no longer taking notes. Everyone was fixated on the images, their jaws hanging wide open. The magnetic test used to push the alien force back into the ball or to reactivate the ball was very convincing. The President had just shown mankind evidence aliens existed, that at least part of the story was not fictional and more importantly that the problem had already landed on the shores of earth.


    Emilio paused and pointed at the detective, "Yes?"


    "I found something you will love."


    "Indulge us."


    Gilbert gave someone a cue. On the screen the image of a black man appeared, this was Trent live from San Francisco. He was sitting at a table. On it was the dancing figurine of Marilyn. Behind him were the handful of misfits from the San Francisco Alien Hotline. They were visibly excited to be part of the discussion. "Emilio, let me present you our missing Mars Mission Commander, Ronaldo Corvas; in a new body."


    The President was so surprised he turned to face the screen behind him. "Corvas?"


    "Yes."


    "Ronaldo? The perm works for you. What gives?"


    "Long story. You have time? It quite an honor, sir, to meet you."


    The President''s mind flashed. In a fraction of a second, he saw hundreds of discussions with the man. While unable to recall any specifics, he felt this was the right person, that he traveled to Earth in the ball next to him. "Time is short. We must arrive at the point quickly."


    "Of course."


    "Tell me what I don''t know."


    "The aliens on Mars fear Marilyn. They believe she is the cause of the harm in the world. They have a plan to terminate her and in the process destroy its paternal species."


    "Let me guess; we have weeks left."


    "They said the plan would come on the day of the game final."


    "They talked about the game?" The question took Corvas by surprise.


    "Yes, as best as I recall. But as you can imagine I am not sure."


    ¡°Sophie, they made it clear, we must avoid interfering with her.¡±


    "Wise. Anything else?"


    "I spoke of mercury, the planet. I said it was retrograde and had ice; they became very upset. At first, they refused to accept it, as a theologian challenged. They destroyed my body, but maybe thanks to what I said, my mind was transferred, kept intact, and rendered into their form." He pointed at the globe. "I think Trent, the owner of this body floats here. I joined as one of these emotionless creatures. I was sent back to prove them wrong. They have tools to destroy us and Marilyn."


    "That is very interesting." Emilio''s mind raced, he found the question likely to elicit a response, "Feel any different?"


    "Yes! I see things. In this form, I see Marilyn as an infection." Ronaldo''s gaze went to the flip phone on the table.


    "Why the phone?"


    "Ronaldo grabbed it as if it wasn''t supposed to be there. He almost slid it into a pocket as he looked at it. Obviously, Corvas was inspecting something inside the phone. Finally, he flipped the phone open with his thumb.


    ***


    The communication on the screen in the Sorbonne went black.


    ***


    Marilyn''s face appeared. "Nope,¡± she said waving a finger in the air like a mother ready to ground her children. ¡°No, no, no, and hell no.¡±


    Emilio did not seem disturbed by Marilyn¡¯s less than subtle interference. "What are you talking about, a soft spot?"


    "Darling lets not cross games. What is inside that phone will have to wait." Emilio knew she was lying. "I would politely ask you and Trent to talk, but avoid what''s on that phone. Fly him to Berlin if you want." On the corner of the screen, the feed from San Francisco returned. Ronaldo Corvas slid the phone in his pocket as if he was ashamed of having pulled it out. "I rarely insist on anything," she removed her glasses and her facial expression hardened, "but I must. In the strongest fashion possible." Everyone''s mind was racing. The phone was a key. She spoke of Round 32. The schedule scrolled on the screen.


    Electoral 2072 - The Sixth Attraction


    Round 28 - 32 players - The Fuller Crater


    Round 29 - 16 players - Mars Invaders


    Round 30 - Quarter finales (In 7 days)


    Round 31 - 4 players - Semi finales (In 14 days)


    Round 32 - 2 players - Final part 1 (In 17 days)


    Round 32 - 2 players - Final part 2 (In 21 days)


    Emilio''s mind raced. He saw himself say hundreds of things to the computer and finally one evoke a strong reaction. That was rare, she normally reacted to most demands and questions. That time was passed. He asked in the softest voice possible, "Would Sophie agree with the delay? Getting him here obfuscates the truth, no?"


    The stern expression on the visage of the digital goddess immediately transformed. This was nothing short of rage. "No!" she snapped like a pestilential child. "She wouldn''t! What are you going to do about it? Who cares!! I try to play nice, why don''t you! Let me be clear, talk about what''s in that phone, contact her, anything, really anything, and the gloves come off. Everyone out there, I am getting tired of this insolence." This was obviously the start of a very long speech. Marilyn was working herself up.


    Her face was getting red. She spoke and snapped at an invisible person next to her in the computer reality. The computer was genuinely upset, she was working hereafter into a rage only married couples knew about. "You know what?" she began this time truly upset.


    The feed went dark.


    There was a wait on the line.


    Several seconds later the blank silence was replaced by Marilyn¡¯s father Georges'' larger face. He was in the Center operating auxiliary systems. He was munching on something and the camera was too close for the comfort of anyone in the audience. In his back, the 30 players were saluting themselves on their way to the tubes. In the center was Sophie, she was caressing her father''s head gently. On the different screens around the room it was possible to see Marilyn''s enraged face. The creature was now yelling at herself like a spoiled teenager as the players tried to ignore her. A second after taking the screen¡¯s control, Georges snapped at Emilio, "You do it on purpose. God, you are stupid or what? Talk about teamwork. We humans don''t deserve her. You really want to die, keep going moron. The hell with this stupid world and this stupid race."


    The man raised both hands in the air. In his back, Sophie looked his way. As she did, Georges calmed and the feed ended. Emilio and Francois looked at each other. Emilio had not anticipated the strength of her reaction. The countdown on the screen of the tubed continued.


    "You can sit," the President told Copland. The man felt bad. "We have time to understand what just happened. Let''s resume."


    The world was a strange place these days.


    Humans were trying to understand.

 Chapter 103: Speed

    Io Observer


    Passing the Orbit of Venus


    To almost everyone, mercury symbolized a liquid metal or an old god with wings on the heels of his shoes. Few, until today, cared about the scarred ball orbiting the armpit of our star. Sane minds agreed, there was no reason for humans to travel to the crater-infested iron ball aside from a desire to spend research funding from wasteful governments. Even from mercury''s dark side, which is by no means truly or permanently dark due to the rotation of the planet and its proximity to the sun, our star appears as a giant white orb. Standing on mercury, the gas ball''s outer edges as so close, they appear uneven, fuzzy to the naked eye.


    The cigar-shaped Io Observer, the latest gem from the European Space Agency, carved through space at 1,540,000 miles per hour en route to its death within the inner regions of the system. It was on a vector to hit mercury in a day at most. There, it would crash on the surface and vaporize. The suicide mission was zooming ten times faster than any previous manned spacecraft and speeds kept increasing. Sophie¡¯s bumpy ride to mars was a cakewalk in comparison. If compared to light speed, which in man''s solar system is roughly 669 million miles per hour, the velocity was still modest but as this speed, the solar wind coming from the ball of fire was creating headwind and some mild disturbances.


    This relativistic velocity was, said simply, death to the two passengers of the Observer.


    The rush to the inner parts of the system was more than a race, though. The Io Lab''s inertia could no longer be stopped. Stored in the velocity of the ship was the kinetic energy of a hundred nuclear bombs. Even at fractional c, the coefficient for light speed, the arrival at any destination was impossible.


    For days, the power of the engines had been pushing toward the sun. To land on the celestial body, deceleration would still be abrupt and violent but there was, at most energy to slow down a small piece of the Observer. To better understand the insane approach velocity, Apollo 11 had taken four days to reach earth''s moon. At the current velocity of the Observer, this ship crossed the moon to earth distance in less than an hour, but for the moment, mercury was still twenty hours away. From within the Lab, it was impossible for the two space travelers to feel any evidence of their velocity aside from the acceleration and the bumps. Back at Mission Command, these speeds made everyone very nervous.


    This expensive research vessel, the Io Observer, was known in the media by its stage name -- the Io Lab. That was the name of the reality television show featuring the dozen of pre-selected passengers. Two days ago, the ship was launched outwardly toward the moon. To initiate the deadly speed, if pointed at the lunar horizon, feet above it and dropped. It swooshed and ricocheted around the moon sucking up every joule of potential energy it could, increasing naturally the kinetic power of the Lab on its way to the sun.


    Once the moon was in the rear mirror of the Lab, Christian, the President¡¯s Jester pushed a button and ignited the eight nuclear thrusters. The blue blast was seen from earth with the naked eye. A young, very fit fighter pilot could sustain without passing out a nine-G push back on earth for a few seconds, armed with proper muscle clenching and breathing techniques designed to keep blood flowing to the brain.


    But the two travelers were old. Only the sociopath could muster the willpower to focus his mind long enough to avoid passing out as the Lab flew past the moon. The man was 69. Christian held a button which, when released would cut half the acceleration. He rotated his chair, as instructed, every hour to force blood to every part of his body. Even to Christian, this was no fun. The man¡¯s will power was insanity. He counted in his mind numbers, letters and he held past any reasonable limit.


    The mind was a wonderful thing. Everyone believed the crazy old man would be able to hold twenty to thirty minutes at most as the ship¡¯s energy tripled. The doctors were planning to continue the push of the Observer at most an hour to avoid killing him. Down on the ground, Control and the engineers had bets as to how long the Jester manning the ship could hold before passing out. The most optimistic had the Jester at losing consciousness after fifteen minutes.


    Everyone, absolutely everyone, who had placed a bet that day went home a little bit frightened. The Jester had not flinched, complained, or come close to losing consciousness. The launch and acceleration of the ship was a story in itself.


    The sociopath''s determination allowed the engines to push until they reached this incredible speed. The man was rock. Ground control felt it would need to shock Christian back to consciousness after he passed out but he never did. On his chest was taped a shock device. Thanks to his efforts, they would arrive at mercury hours earlier, and the return trip to earth for the globes would now have more time to cross the 77 million miles.


    The Sixth Attraction was 20 odd days away. The globes were needed back on earth before the finale to stop what was on the horizon. During the first day, the Jester''s pale passenger slept soundly. Ground control told Christian long sleep periods were normal and simply confirmed the META''s pulse did not drop below eight beats per minute. As he drifted by, Christian occasionally flicked the old bastard''s nose for no reason.


    The Lab was designed to travel to the outer edges of the system and feel as comfy as possible for years of travel as it served as a giant reality television experiment. In the zero gravity, people used the ship''s long central brass pole to pull themselves along stacked rooms each in the shapes of donuts. Once at the destination, one side of the rooms would serve as the deck, but for the moment, there was no notion of up or down. Io''s gravity was similar to Earth''s moon, while Mercury and Mars had stronger pulls. Every part of the long series of rooms contained cameras. There were confession rooms for researchers/players to talk to fans. At the moment Nick, the Chairman of Blackberry was locked away in the game''s "break room."


    In 2072, governments took a back seat to private funding. Corporations had a much smaller window to produce real earnings, and they had become the alternative to endless debt-spending government. Of course, the support came at a cost. The Lab''s largest sponsor was a television production house. It paid for most of the program and in return, it selected the passengers, decorated the Lab and scripted a large part of the mission. The actors were no idiots, they had to meet some level of intelligence. But each of the individuals was a good actor and was emotionally unstable on some level or another. Sure, the producers wanted the crew to reach the destination and perform the experiments on Jupiter''s moon, but a self-destructing mission would not be a problem and would generate a greater audience. It took the Jester about 15 seconds to extrapolate that, and less than one second to decide he could put on a better show all by his lonesome. Nick, chained and sleeping in the break room, was just a bonus.


    Emilio didn''t care. He''d commandeered the ship with enough alacrity to even impress the madman he had piloting it. The show, for once, would have to wait.


    Patrick Martin, Emilio''s security chief, happy to see the Jester off to a certain death, helped repurpose the ship. In one day only, with the help of Marilyn, the engineers readied the Lab and fired it into the sky. The original crew of 12 had spent years preparing for the mission and now were replaced by an odd couple of old killers.


    Christian, in honor of his screen name of Jester said to the Captain as he passed him on the loading bay, "User manuals are now much better than they once were." The joke fell flat to everyone but Christian; this felt like handing the keys of a Ferrari to an adolescent. Emilio agreed to make the switch public and to leave the live television feeds alone -- he owed as much to producers as he grabbed their expensive toy. Millions of people watched the equally puzzled team, now replaced by the two out of shape, psychotic old men. As usual, Emilio knew how to make great television. Christian''s sarcastic humor was politically and morally incorrect. He really couldn''t care less about what people thought. His insane smirk and a "Just Fucking Dare Me To" glare was an instant hit.


    It was evident to all, Christian was a happy camper and felt beyond himself. He was a child passing the turnstile at the amusement park. Emilio had delivered everything he had promised to the nutcase. Weeks ago, Christian Maltais was rotting in his cell; now he was asked to kill himself in the most creative way possible. In his hands was the faith of the human species, him, the man who once tried to extinguish those very same idiots. Emilio revived his interest in humanity. He didn''t flank him with the handful of morons selected for the trip. Instead, he left them on the ground, where they belonged. The man''s smile and happiness were infectious. He had a one-way ticket to hell, and he loved it. Christian dreamed of a good death; this was it, it was perfection. The man was obviously happy and his emotion shocked.


    The journalists questioned him on the launch pad, "Who are you?"


    "I''m going to take a rain check on that offer to spend the night with me."


    "Seriously, who are you, why are they launching you in space? Does this have anything to do with the Sixth Attraction?"


    "You know you want me," he said as the crew pushed him into the ship.


    ¡°Are you Batman¡¯s Joker?¡± The similarity with the famous character was too direct to ignore.


    ¡°What a great suggestion,¡± he simply added as the door locked behind him.


    ***


    On the ship''s belly, eight long crab legs were designed to anchor their tips to the low gravity ice of Io. On Io, hammering down the ice bedrock created a counter-force, a pushback away from the slippery surface. On the tip of each leg was a curved titanium hook mounted with a compressor hammer to push the tip into the surface without significant reciprocal force pushing back. The legs were also designed to walk the capsule to thinner parts of the ice before the drills could punch the carbonic ice. Comedians baptized the Lab "the trillion credit shrimp." They weren''t far from reality.


    In a matter of hours, the President''s science team had repurposed the locking mechanism into a sun-shield. Two of the longer legs were now connected to spools weaving a shield. The technology uploaded from the Marilyn database was simple yet brilliant. Taking inspiration from spiders, a long golden thread was released between those two legs. Two other legs began to weave the strain into a web which looked like a parachute with fist-size openings. Once the shield was knitted, the four legs spread apart and as they put tension on the line, the mesh openings tightened and closed like an iris, creating a deeper shadow on the Lab.


    By the time the Observer would be in view of Mercury, the shield would be five knitted layers thick and the shade could reach 98.3%. There was beauty in watching the golden strand move in weightlessness. The heat shield looked like a sail, but it was curved inwards from the tip of the legs to the nose of the ship. The cable''s round shape and gold color was designed to help the surface absorb solar photons needed in the cold outer edges of the solar system.


    The covering wasn''t wasted on the reverse trip to the sun as it served as a solar battery powering up the ship. Normally this ship went outwardly past the asteroid belt in cold regions where power collection was critical. So close to the sun, in the inner regions, the problem was not energy but cooling. Christian had rewired the power to serve an unknown function, some of the photons flowed to four of the nuclear thrusters. It appeared Christian was recharging batteries which, in theory, would not be needed. Emilio knew the man had a devious plan, in fact, he hoped he did.


    The living space inside the Lab was rather large for the odd couple. It was designed to host a larger crew launched on a multi-year journey to the outreach of the solar system. At the moment the craft was inhabited by two mentally unstable humans, and the mission reduced by a thousand days. In the history of space exploration, these two were the oddest explorers to ever set foot outside of our planet''s immediate reach.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Aside from the maniac flying the ship, one man alone felt good about the whole thing. President Emilio knew he had picked the right guy. Christian was perfect; he was unpredictable, unstable but logical.


    Christian Maltais, the Captain, for lack of a better term, was a chain-smoker and a homicidal maniac. He''d once tried to release the Black Plague and destroy the world. He had deep, dark circles below each eye from abuse of caffeine, nicotine, and opiates. The man''s typical breakfast included half a pack of French Gauloises and eight cups of the darkest brew possible. Next to him, still sedated, slept the centenarian chairman of Blackberry, the META many called ¡°the ghost.¡± The couple was already making news down on earth. Nick was tied to a large padded chair. Christian was still under the shock of being trusted with this suicidal one-way mission to mercury. He wasn''t shocked that they needed him. He was shocked that they''d realized it.


    With the help of thick magnetic books and a voice in his ear, delayed by a couple of seconds, he pushed buttons and prepared the launch of what they called a "static probe." Through the rounded window at the Lab''s nose tip, he looked at the sun shield. In the center of the knitting, he could see a gold circle the size of a basketball. The probe would be launched directly ahead at the sun, into that hole, and past the shields.Christian knew that mercury, invisible to the naked eye, was floating there in its elliptical, now halfway between the burning gas and the Lab. The sun''s rays were too powerful to allow the human eye to distinguish the rock. He prepared the static probe. The ground engineers were helpful and eager to please, so he did what came naturally. He insulted them.


    "We have one chance at this sir," a calm voice said into his ear. "Your printers should have finished all the pieces requiring assembly; there was little time."


    The President loved his Jester for a simple reason, the man''s brilliance was beyond question. A normal man would have taken marching orders. Christian was not a normal man. "Not sure why there wasn''t a static probe on this piece of crap if you were going to Io. There is electrostatic differential there, no?"


    He had a point. It was very difficult for non-space travelers to understand static issues. On earth, a person who wore insulating shoes could rub a balloon in her hair and see static electricity. In space, every body floated in void, alone and insulated. Each planet, moon, and satellite held a different static charge. The sun kept sending electric energy. As a body of a probe approached a moon or a planet, arcs of static energy jumped to equalize charge. Mercury was a body charged beyond imagination. The last probe, as it passed over the ground, saw long arcs resembling lightning jump to meet it when it got within a mile of the surface. The Lab was equipped with static generators designed to adjust the equilibrium of the static charges and thus avoid the deadly lightning strikes. Static lightning rods placed at the tip of the crab legs of the shield would normally be sufficient to prevent destruction. But driving into a thunderstorm was always a problem and landing on a different planet was much worse.


    Christian was getting ready to push a button and release a probe which would accelerate using nuclear thrusters, eventually reaching 330,000 miles per hour once it hit mercury. Normally, the forward moving probe would reach the planet about an hour before the Lab. By measuring the precise remaining distance between the mercurian ground and the probe when static lightning began to strike it, it would be possible to calculate the difference in charge. The ship would then have to adjust itself or blow up.


    To electricians, static energy was second nature. In space, every floating body was insulated from its neighbor. With time, loose electrons charged neighboring satellites on the geostationary belt around the earth until one day the difference was sufficient to jump between two satellites and destroy one. The art of static management in space travel was still in infancy. Since the probe launched by the ship shared the same electric potential, the welcoming arc of a mile or two would warn the ship and provide a basis for compensation. By igniting static generators, the ship''s electric potential could be altered until the arc would no longer be deadly for the visitors.


    "I can''t believe I have to print these pieces, assemble them and launch this fucking probe by myself. That cries of incompetence," said Christian to base over the general communication system. He wasn''t enjoying having to play engineer. That was below him.


    "The Lab was designed for a four-year mission. Most of the equipment wouldn''t have been required until years after departure. Pieces needed at arrival were designed to be printed layer in the trip. The probe protects passengers more than the ship."


    "You are telling me the Io mission was designed to reach completion even without humans?"


    "Roger that. Humans are a problem on these missions. But we were unable to get funding even if we designed very sexy robots."


    "You space people do think ahead, do you?"


    "A lot of things can go wrong in four years. Once piece #22C is finished, can you hold it and float to the inertial weighing machine in the corner there."


    "I am not sure I get what you are saying."


    "The last piece is #22C. If its inertial mass is correct, we can assume all other previous pieces were printed properly. If you prefer, we can have you verify the weigh of all the pieces."


    "That''s fine. What''s your name?"


    "Me?"


    "No, the guy floating next to me. Yes, you idiot, what''s your name?"


    "Sudip."


    "Can I call you Stupid?" The man felt awkward being on a first name basis with such a man.


    The donut-shaped room was complicated. The Jester floated in the engineering bay. Behind each of the hundreds of panels were tools and spare parts. Several of the white wall panels were now floating along with some tools. They kept floating down to the ground behind him and bouncing. Ground Command first tried to force the man to tidy up as the tools were no longer needed, but they soon gave up. No logic or reason made the man comply. Between the panels floated a dark grey metal ball. Its shape was uneven. It drifted between Christian and the tip of the Lab, where a small hatch and window could lie. The sun was getting larger in the center of the glistening gold cables of the shield. Christian floated to the handle. The engineer did not respond to the insult. "Now move it around. The machine will calculate from inertia. It should read 103.450 kilograms."


    It did.


    The Jester read the next panel of instructions. They asked him to load a nuclear thruster into the probe. That sounded dangerous. "Are you sure I can transfer a nuclear thruster from this hole to this device without getting a sunburn?" He expected white lies from the ground. Instead, a different voice replied, he knew the voice.


    "Who cares if you slow cook like a rabbit?" It was the voice of Patrick Martin. ¡°A little more radiation won¡¯t hurt."


    "Spice, my sister!" Replied the Jester as he followed the instructions. His smile got even larger. He grabbed the probe, put it over the allegedly nuclear-trusted hatch, clicking and flipping some switches. "We were a sexy couple," the Jester was referring to their mutual time spent in the bodies as the Siamese twins called Sugar and Spice. "Still upset you refused to have sex with me. I tell you, Siamese twins doing it is the cutting edge of masturbation, not incest. Think about it." Everyone on the line from military personnel to mission command cringed. The audience went up.


    Patrick felt an odd compassion for the man stuck in the spaceship, and he knew Christian loved to be pushed and challenged. "You know your life expectancy is the same as a fresh strawberry right now?" The pair¡¯s humor was priceless.


    The man laughed. "We both have the same chance of getting blown tonight by your wife, and I''m the one falling toward to the sun. That has to hurt." The two men had bonded. The humor was crude but genuine. This person, after decades of prison time in a psychiatric ward, had agreed to embark on this suicide mission. He genuinely was happy to do it. Patrick had half offered to go, objecting that the fate of humanity should not rest on such a mind, but was relieved when Emilio refused.


    "You know Electoral is picking you up in just a few minutes, right?"


    "Dear perfect son and sexless sister, to the risk of shocking you, what is Electoral?"


    "The game."


    "What game?" as he spoke, all the screens in the Lab changed. On each was the face of Marilyn Monroe. She blew a kiss. Below her face, in large letters, was a message: "Calling you in 27.216 minutes." Christian blinked, grinned madly, and said "Nevermind."


    The voice of the digital creature hit the speakers. "Charrue," no one called Christian that name anymore, but the creature pretending to be Marilyn Monroe just had. "Power the probe from the other compartment, the one next to Nick. The kick will wake him up."


    Christian felt like he needed his most potent survival tool back: humor. Each time he felt out of his comfort zone, he joked, and that eased his nerves. Sarcasm was one of his favorites. As he loaded the probe into the hatch, he replied to the artificial intelligence. "How much does it cost to have digital sex with you? I''m sure I can get a loan I won''t be able to repay. My dad once said perfect money management is making sure the last check you make in your life bounces."


    "You do know checks went out of circulation around 2027?" answered the creature.


    "Why are you telling me this?"


    Her answer stunned him. "Better ratings." The Jester was having the blast of his miserable life, this was living.


    Christian pushed a couple of buttons and clipped the probe to the nuclear engine. All lights above the door turned to green.


    "No one told you about Electoral? About me?"


    "Oh!? About you? Who the fuck do you think you are?" said the Jester is a sarcastic tone. "Just call me John F. If you want. My wife is named Jackie. Do you mind having sex with me in public to make her the laughing stock of the whole world? She has two young kids if that helps."


    "Good one, very funny. The teeny part of me in the electronics of your razor is laughing hysterically. I took a quick poll, and the rest of me does not find you amusing. Let me repeat myself because you''re no longer as sharp as you once were, back before you had to use chemicals for your manhood to work,"


    "Ouch," he interrupted.


    "Truth hurts, doesn''t it? The next round of my game will help you and your mission. I actually like you. Oh, who am I kidding? No one likes you. You''ll be dead soon."


    The screens returned to normal. The voice of Patrick returned in his ear. "Did Marilyn just talk to you?"


    "She sure did. What a bitch."


    "She is rather invasive."


    "Should I take her seriously?"


    "Those who do not seem to run into trouble. I suggest you do. We remain unclear what is to her role in all of this. What we can confirm is that she is extremely powerful." The Jester knew better than to question Patrick. He thanked him and returned to the back and sat next to Nick''s sleeping body. He flicked the slimy old bastard''s nose again.


    Pushing a button, the Jester launched the probe. There was a jolt as the device divested itself of the lab and began to accelerate.


    As Marilyn had said, it woke Nick. "Good morning, beautiful. Coffee?" said the killer to his grumpy guest.


    The man took a minute to awaken and survey his surroundings. The lack of gravity was a giveaway as to where he was. "You? Aren''t you locked in a padded room of a mental institution?" Grumbled the CEO in a haze. "You''re that fruitcake, right? Human stupidity to keep you alive all these years. You deserve a bullet."


    "We get a day off every decade for good conduct. Can''t say you expected this."


    "What is this?" he raised his hands showing the restraints. The pale skin of his wrist was cut and bruised.


    "Skin in desperate need of moisturizer?" The Jester could not control himself. "Happy to see that vampire body of yours can still bleed." He next pointed at a screen. "Say hello to our friends back home. The communication lag is about a hundred seconds now."


    "Minutes?"


    "Yes. Are you going to repeat everything I say? I hate stupid questions. Am I to understand your IQ was once 143? To answer your question, we light seconds away from earth on our way to mercury, so yes, the delay is now minutes and growing." He waved his hands. "Want to know what was hard? I mean, other than my nethers at the moment it dawned on me that I was kidnapping you with mind control technology and two surgically fashioned Siamese prostitutes." Before Nick could answer, the tall man reached into a large bag and pulled out potato chips. He opened it. "You know how many people I had to piss off to get potato chips in a weightless environment? In their new ship?" He crunched a crisp, and a couple of small pieces drifted away in the weightless cabin. Christian quickly licked his now-salty thumb and forefinger and in one smooth motion, dried his fingers on the Chairman''s shirt as he pointed at the launch button he''d pushed just moments ago. "That was called a static probe launch. It''s just a ball of metal launched ahead. As it gets closer to Mercury, billions of years of static electricity will create massive lightning strikes between mercury and..."


    "I know what this fucking probe does; I built it!" Nick''s wits were returning, "A mullet in space? Not sure that''s very flattering on you. Wear a tie, and while at it, spin the ship and anchor the end around whatever is about to become the overhead compartment."


    The Jester laughed, "There''s my travel buddy! The king of sarcasm is back. I knew you were a great pick for co-pilot. They initially refused, you know; they said you still have what they called "human rights." Yeah, but I convinced them you were no human. A human has friends."


    "What is this?" he said as the Jester pulled out two large pairs of black glasses. He slipped one on his face, the other on the Chairman.


    Christian clapped his hands in joy. "All right, this show can get started. A potato chip?"


    "A latte, two sugars. I know the sugar is bad for me," replied the ghost, "but who cares, right?"


    "Yes, yes, yes." The man''s eyes were twitching. He was thinking. He was hysterically happy. Things were, pun intended, going fast.


    "Can I know what we are doing here? My guess is you need me for something."


    "I do. It''s rather complicated. You''re a fortunate man, Oh St. Nick, because I highly doubt you''ve been a good boy this year. Marilyn herself says she has this in the can. I know those genetically modified retinas of yours are too weak for contacts," he offhandedly continued. The broadcast began. "She promised to explain our mission. Merry Christmas!"


    They were getting ready for the broadcast.


    ¡°This is insane,¡± said the Ghost.


    ¡°On so many ways.¡± The Jester was right.

 Chapter 104: The SAC

    Marilyn was upset.


    Emilio, as any good politician was able to take a blow. "Anybody who still doubts Marilyn is a living creature has obviously never seen her this way,¡± he joked. ¡°Remember, her reaction in Round 14. Let''s hope she regains her senses before the game, time is short. One thing is sure, we hit a nerve. That phone plays a key role in what comes next, I feel it. Let''s move away from the topic for now.¡± He pointed to a guy outside of the field of view. ¡°Get Trent on a plane to Berlin now, by now I mean now. Bring everyone we saw in that frame, I want that ball and the phone in his possession at all times. No chances."


    He looked at the room, the detective who had introduced Trent spoke in his microphone, "Georges, her creator has control and can switch her out in the broadcast, that''s always a good thing to watch."


    "Yes," whispered Emilio to himself.


    "Did you see how once he took control? Sophie was in the background. An impressive level of control by the man."


    ¡°Her father,¡± Emilio forced himself to refocus and return to the live show and his audience of esteemed guests. He felt there were there for a reason and he was curious to find out.


    "The mission commander is alive, that is a strange twist of events. It complicates things. He did confirm an entire race of aliens on mars want Marilyn gone." With a click, Emilio changed the slide, and the Glass Slipper appeared ¡ª the ship on mars victim of strange turbulence. "Let''s go back to this presentation. We still have about half an hour before the game, we need to speed things up. This is the Glass Slipper; it is, for the time being, grounded." On the picture the staff was pretending to be guests ready to launch. "These are images from last week, from the day before Sophie landed. These are the actual drone images offered to the guests. Take a look." The transparent vessel attached to the top of Mons Tharsis launched and flew until it hit turbulence. "Unlike what movies try to suggest, mars has almost no air, no sandstorms and rocks don''t fly around in its faint gravity. The martian atmosphere is at rest and its wind almost non-existent. To get turbulence, you need density or velocity changes. Experts agree, there cannot be any turbulence. The Glider encountered strong turbulence high in the sky, from Marilyn or these new neighbors of hers." The video resumed and stopped on one of the men, Gerard, the trip''s critic.


    "We now believe this prior turbulence was a diversion created by Marilyn to avoid a flyover of the Glider over the door. More precisely, to prevent one of the passengers from seeing the door that we just talked about." Gerard appeared to be talking to a voice in his ear. "This man''s eyesight, a gift the man has would have let him see the door directly in the Valles." The video showed Gerard looking up at the screen. On it was playing an old movie. "At least, that''s our theory. We are preparing a new mission to the door. Obviously, we now need to adjust in light of today''s new facts."


    The President paused the presentation. "The Sixth Attraction will happen on November 21, three weeks from now. That much seems to be known, and I do not doubt it. From Marilyn''s reaction to this story, I often wonder if she picked the date of her game last year because she knew of the arrival of the Sixth Attraction or if the Sixth Attraction is timed with the finale of the competition. Either way, the timing is no coincidence. The girl''s birthday also coincides with that day. The timing here is important."


    "We already have uncovered six deadly plots around the world. We dispatched them quickly. The terrorist group in Burma trying to blow up a nuke given by the Chinese. A Russian test of a fusion bomb did not want to destroy the world knowingly, but it planned a 500 megaton fusion blast, which many believe will start a chain reaction igniting the atmosphere. The test was planned on November 21. Now that we know the date, its much easier. Canadians also were transporting nanites. I am unclear what those are, but they can''t touch living cells without yet another chain reaction. There is also the META plan.


    "Once we realized that all these plans had a commonality, the date, they were easier to uncover." Emilio returned his attention to the room, and with a flick of the wrist, the flow of images resumed. "We are three weeks away from the finale. Marilyn is playing with these Rho waves; she just admitted as much. The waves have an unexplained purpose.¡±


    The students were taking notes.


    "Next," the image of mercury came up, "this rock. My mind has recently changed. I am unclear why, but I saw, don''t ask me how, that we need to visit mercury. In the game later today, Marilyn promised to provide further explanation. Mercury is now farther away than mars. Time was short, and I had to act quickly. Since we could not use the light drive, I had to improvise. If you recall, the splitting of photons on the plates inside the light drives is at the heart of ripping holes to the Purple between the worlds."


    Images changed behind Emilio. "With the light drive, it takes two weeks to reach mars. We have days at most to reach mercury and if we find something there, get it back to us or mars before the finale. I remain unclear why it must happen, but the rescue mission has begun." The use of the word rescue made the scientists in the room uneasy. They all looked up at the images behind the President.


    "As you will hear, I implemented very extreme measures. I have no clue if they will land me in prison, history will judge. At best the mission is a one-way flight. The craft will not crash on mercury, it will vaporize at its contact; that is how fast we have to get there."


    "The electromagnetic interference is so powerful, it fries most electronic equipment. The radiation levels are deadly. We can''t expect much to work and I had a hunch, a strange one." The crowd shifted. "I hope you all trust me enough to wait for tonight''s game before you reach a conclusion. I am sure Marilyn will showcase this with fantastic details."


    The group in the room was utterly astonished by this entire series of events. A little more than a week ago, players were landing on mars for a simple game. Everyone back then would be excited by a slow walk on the red rock. No one had anticipated the turn of events. Any of it. The events taking place, if true, were utterly inconceivable. They also unfolded at very uncomfortably fast pace.


    "Now, some good news to lighten the mood. I guess that''s needed at this time." Behind him the picture of a giant virus appeared. "As if the actions of two types of aliens wasn''t sufficient, we have here on earth the META virus. This bug was designed several decades ago by a man named Takeda. He created this complex virus around the date Marilyn was born in the MIT servers. Doctor Takeda, who should be dead by now, was recently rescued in Austria. His body is probably also regenerated. We believe a single man, a monster, burnt down this residence in which he was withering away. I am sure the image seems familiar, that is because it was part of Round 26. This is where the Mother in Law of Marilyn resided when she played a banker''s wife in old Chicago. This original building is in Austria."


    Everyone in the room was unable to process. Each word was filled with significance and there simply was no time to unravel these threads. "The META virus is at the heart of another governmental coverup. Sophie will be proud of me for washing so much dirty laundry in public. This virus does not kill as most of you think: it stops cell aging. The science is once again complex, but it does so by snapping open the shape of human DNA. Once the DNA is open, many side effects appear." Images flashed above Emilio''s shoulder. The man was now talking cell biology. "The META virus does not kill or even grant immortality; it only stops a handful of cellular reproductive steps. A body infected by the virus cannot sustain itself. The virus slows cell replication which was perfect to halt cancer reproduction - pausing the growth of most cancers. But this sucks if you want a full head of hair."


    On the screen appeared a picture of Nicholas Schmidbauer. "This man and a dozen of other very rich fucks are the reason why Takeda designed this virus." Emilio never used profanities. His words made the audience gasp. "Those guys not only infected themselves on purpose to avoid death but formed a secret society called the Visconti. Their recent role was to infect and kill random people to manage the public perception of this bug to hide its true benefits. We have known about them for decades but they are very careful, and I could not prove their efforts to infect and kill innocents." Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    "I alone had to act very recently. I secured evidence from a good friend the Visconti was building in secrecy an underground Ark to survive once our race goes extinct and the earth becomes unlivable. At least that was my guess as to what is next. Their leader is the CEO of Blackberry, and his miserable ass is on his way to mercury as a personal gift to the mission leader we just spoke of. You all remember him in Round 25 of the game. This Ark was annihilated earlier today. There is no lifeboat for anyone. Nick can bring charges against me for kidnapping if he ever wants or comes back from mercury."


    There were no words to describe the expressions of the people in the auditorium. Simple minds could not grasp the magnitude of the events. Emilio went to sit in the chair next to Francois. Without a pause, the President continued. "We are far from halfway into my presentation, pace yourselves. Next, on the continuum comes Marilyn. She was born two decades ago from the mind of Georges Vouvelakis, her creator, now residing with her on mars. As far as we know, Georges told the truth as to her birth. The story was broadcasted a week ago on CNN. There are more questions than answers when we think about Marilyn. I can confirm she did save the human race in 2067 from nuclear war. She was exiled in nothing more than humanity''s most shameful hour.


    "A species which hurts the hand that just saved it from the Stone Age deserves only extinction. I want you to look at these faces." Faces scrolled on the screen. "These people cast the deciding vote cast to expel Marilyn from earth. They each were in full knowledge the fact this digital creature had just saved our race. But these morons put personal interest above all else. I would ask for retribution, but I almost get the sense Marilyn planned all of this. I take comfort in knowing these people must live with public shame. It''s hard in this context to see Marilyn as an adversary of our species. Even if Liam were to ask me to unplug her to save our race, I frankly would not do it. She has already saved the life of everyone in this room. I would think long and hard before blaming her for the Sixth Attraction. I have my differences with the artificial intelligence, but absent contrary indications, she helped put me in power, and if that were not the case, nothing would stand in the way of The Visconti."


    In the auditorium, luminosity dropped. The monitor next to the chamber read 23:07, and the oversized numbers were counting down to zero. Emilio figured he needed five or ten minutes to hook up to the device, so time was running short. The presentation resumed. It was a video of a road accident. Everyone in the room was familiar with these images. Most cringed and looked away. It was the night in Indiana when Sophie became an orphan.


    "Sophie was two when the Electoral competition began. A year and a half ago, as Marilyn was shipping her root processors to mars, this happened. A girl, ten years of age, miraculously survived this crash." The images spared no detail. "Her father also survived this crash and the burning wreck of the ambulance bringing him to the hospital. Sophie was unscratched. Her father was declared clinically dead, yet, Sophie has anchored him to our world. He remains and is about to steal my job. The man is a brilliant player and a wonderful father.


    "We now know Sophie''s mind generates waves found in very small quantity inside the normal human brain. Professor Lalancette, earth''s expert on Rho waves, confirms their existence but also propositions their strangest property. With distance from an emission source, the waves do not decrease in intensity as does every propagated wave; they increase in power. This is a violation of the law of the conservation of energy.


    "Little is known of these waves aside from how Sophie''s waves were channeled by the computer to steal a communication portal called the Dot. Liam, the previous owner of the Dot, does not seem to hold this theft over Marilyn''s head.That could be either calming or terrifying. Sophie, this wonderful girl, used her waves last night to visit what can only be described as the Multiverse itself. We all felt the pulse of energy even from down here on earth.


    "To our benefit, thanks to Marilyn, we saw a ballet of images, each stranger than the next. The passage to the Underworld lasted less than a second, yet Marilyn broadcasted about an hour of images. Everything that surrounds that girl is exceptional and illogical. We live in a world where only some crazies believe in magic, yet she appears to have powers. She is called the Attractor by Liam, a term she hates to use.


    "Sophie is... " He was unable to find the right word. "Sophie..." This time he was unable to find the right verb to use. Emilio looked a Francois, at the crowd, he needed to say something, but as a confession, he was unable to find the right sequence of words. He took several long breaths, grabbed the water and drank then a tear came to his eyes. He choked.


    "You know what?" he began. "I don''t have kids. Never had. She is the closest thing I have to family. I know that is going to sound strange, but since everyone shares this feeling, I will say it. My heart belongs to her. I don''t want to win this damn game just because I fear that might hurt Laurent and in turn hurt her. My counsel tells me her waves allow her to bond with us on a deep level and that''s why we feel this. I know how strange that sounds, but I know everyone in this room feels the same way." Everyone in the assembly nodded. "This is somehow a needed part of the Sixth Attraction. She calms us like music played to bring livestock to their doom."


    Emilio looked at his watch and continued. "As if what we talked about wasn''t crazy enough, this is where things get weird." Images changed above his head. "Marilyn explained how she uses the number Pi as a value to measure how the Multiverse changes. We think here this bend is related to what we call the God Bias. Tonight, thirty-two finalists, including myself," he pointed at the tube, "will play Round 28. There are at most six rounds left to play. The players will be connected to the pods. The pods," he got up, walked to the device sharing the stage and put his hand on it, "appear to be a direct neurological link into the computer. Sophie, unlike us, does not need any connection. It looks like the girl can pretty much do what she wants. We are dumbfounded here as to how scientifically this can be explained."


    The scientists were mentally exhausted by the complexity of this end-of-day briefing.


    A picture of the President''s face appeared on the screen. He looked up."Me? I guess its an honor to be considered an integral part of this story." He was prepared for what he needed to say next. He took a sip of the cup of water. "Aside from my role as President and being a player in the Electoral 2072 competition, my brain seems to be wired uniquely. The same way an Olympic skier sees in his mind a course as he launches himself, my mind continuously looks ahead. With time I got better at it. Growing up, I had no clue others did not wrestle with the same demons. Up to my victory of the Electoral 2062 game, my gift mostly felt to me like a curse. I see myself die a hundred times a day. When I fall in love, I see hundreds of nasty breakups. Driving a car is nearly impossible for me, the road keeps shifting on me. I don''t like talking about this, but it explains why I am a bachelor. I can''t love because I can''t turn off the nasty breakups.


    "If you have my gift, anything reliably certain is soothing. Watching the Olympics is great to me, I see the race, a couple of futures but in all the same person wins. Do I make any sense?" Everyone in the room was polite and therefore silent. The President walked to the front of the stage and looked around. "In my mind, when I look around I see myself asking each of you a question. I don''t know the answer you would give, but I get a general feeling if I need to ask the question. The same happens in the Electoral game." He looked at a girl in the back row. "What''s your name?" he asked one student.


    She blushed and stood up. She pulled down her skirt over the thick wool stockings. She made her way to the microphone. She grabbed it, tapped. "My name is Slovanka." Her thick Ukrainian accent matched her image.


    "Ask your question." She blushed. "No, really, ask your question."


    "It is not flattering."


    "Please, go ahead."


    "Very well, under the rules of Electoral, if you do have a gift for sight into alternate futures, doesn''t that mean you should be disqualified?" There it was. Political opponents of the President had been crying foul play for a decade. To them, the rules were clear; no contestant was allowed an edge over the others at the time of inscription. "Why are you still playing?" Everyone in the room cringed.


    "The trillion-dollar question," began the President. "I do owe everyone an explanation. From a technical standpoint, Electoral''s rules are very artfully crafted. It is as if she was knowing about my difference, yet she wanted me to stay in the game. The rules say that no one can ''use external help'' or something along those lines. My gift is not external; it''s personal.


    He looked at the young student back in her seat and concluded, "You don''t want to deprive these kind folks of a finale between Laurent and me? Like me, his handicap or something internal seems to be helping. He now also has this little kid from the Purple inside his head. If I were a betting man, which I am not, I would not pick myself as favorite."


    There was finally an answer to the most important question surrounding the President. Emilio was the world¡¯s most eligible bachelor, but he had never been seen dating a man or a woman. "In these last two days, my visions seemed to have shifted.First, of the dozens of alternate futures I see, some are simply black. Next, I can''t tell you why, but I saw visions, one of mercury. Marilyn told me she would open tonight''s game with my vision." A picture flashed of a launcher. "Tonight you will see why I sent a man, a killer, to do a mission there. I hope some of it makes sense; although I don''t see how, at this point. Not even to me, not completely." Emilio lowered his microphone as if he were ready to conclude his presentation and take questions.

 Chapter 105: The Guest

    A bright image popped-up above the President, as if to lift the gloom in the room. It was a picture of Mall-ik sitting on the porch of the large white colonial house in the Bayou of Louisiana. This was Laurent''s mental image of the house where he met Sophie on a regular basis. Next to the alien from the Purple sat the Indian version of Liam, the creature from the Lowest. The pair was odd in so many ways. Emilio pointed, lost his words and clicked away.


    Then an image from the Underworlds appeared, the one created and broadcasted by Marilyn. The President spoke softly, a bit puzzled by his own capacity to simplify this long summary. "Yes, I almost forgot. Marilyn stole the Dot using Sophie''s power. It appears this thing is a big deal, the heart of an inter-dimensional communication network. Liam, the oldest creature of the Multiverse now lives in Sophie''s head the same way Mall-ik, the boy from the Purple lives in Laurent''s mind.¡± He felt odd, as if something in the back of his mind bothered him.


    "Enough?" asked the President rhetorically. There were 17 minutes left. "For those who have been watching the live broadcasts, we all know what I just described is a small piece of what is going on. I would not want to be the author trying to chronicle the Sixth Attraction after it''s completion, assuming there''s anyone even left. Liam tried to explain how a confluence of events spiral around the Attractor, our darling Sophie. The world is creating a situation in which it becomes impossible for the Attractor to distinguish what must be done. It doesn''t matter, of course. She is a consequence. She will listen to those few she trusts, but she will never bend to anyone''s will but her own. Confusion will not dissuade or distract her."


    The crowd was mesmerized by the chosen images playing. It was part of Round 27. Sophie floated alone in the Multiverse; she was visible against a backdrop of stars. Her eyes were filled with tears, behind her a wooden door drifted in splinters. A word came from her mother. The girl exploded like a beacon of energy. The red wave spread to every corner of the Multiverse.


    There wasn''t a dry eye in the audience.


    The girl was a godsend.


    The timing of what happened next was not fortuitous. The screen above Emilio turned to a deep brown mud. The replay was over. These were new images, not the presentation.


    Above was a door to a new world. While the screen was flat, the images appeared in three dimensions. This was a portal into a liquid world. Here, the dense patches of ice looked like Christmas tree decorations forged from snowflakes. This was a different world, a place of much beauty. White letters flashed in the lower part of the screen.


    -- The Lower --


    The camera angle shifted to the right. Emilio took a couple of steps back to get a better view of the screen. The viewpoint on the screen settled on the side of a rock facade. On it, a small shining ball made of millions of intertwined flakes shimmered. Light of every color pulsed from it. It was beautiful beyond imagination. The structure was complex.


    Piano Sonata No. 14 in C minor, "Quasi una fantasia," Op. 27, No. 2, popularly known as the "Moonlight Sonata" began to play. Marilyn was behind the spectacle. "This is my favorite piece of earthly music," said a deep male voice. "It warms my heart each time it plays. The life story of the composer is astonishing." The voice was unmistakable; it was Liam, the creature inhabiting Sophie''s head. As he spoke, lights in the bubble pulsed."This is remarkable. While I am being displayed on this screen, I can see you, Mr. President, and more incredibly, I can see your audience as if I was in the room."


    "Oldest?" the President queried respectfully.


    "Please, call me Liam. The Attractor''s honor in naming me must be cherished."


    "Liam, are you back in your world? We seem to see you as you normally exist."


    "This is mere digital manipulation. I do not think Sophie sent me back with a gift she alone possesses. I have traveled between the worlds with her; this feels different. Marilyn asked me to inform you and your audience she needs a little time to refresh herself."


    By magic, on the timer on window of the control of the tube began to scroll up back to thirty minutes and then it resumed once it had reset itself to the higher value. "Sophie wanted privacy as she merged back into Laurent''s mind. I suggested I make myself as useful as possible by joining your gathering of minds here on your beautiful blue planet. Exhilarating, earth returns to the brilliant minds. The bubble pulsed an orange color.


    "We are honored by your presence. Your natural form is beautiful," observed the President.


    "That is not my body. My world, like most, has no physical reality. We have no tangible or physical matter. Attraction of Sophie offers perceptual filters. An Attractor must have context. Sophie''s mind could not process my world, so it creates the closest reality possible. The same way we bridge language, I now know what a day is, even though we have no notion of sun, orbit, or sunrise where I come from. Sophie results in a suspension of all laws of science." The scientists in the crowd were smiling ear to ear. Liam continued, "Let us make the most of the short time we have before us. Before we speak, I must give you one word of caution. In point of fact, you have no way to know if I am not an image generated by the computer. She may be using my image, or she may gently warp the conversation oh-so-slightly to her benefit. Take my words with ''a grain of salt'' as the expression goes."


    The brilliance was palpable. "We will. Why are you here? Can you answer questions?"


    "Sophie''s exact words were ''You are dying to play with the adults, go enjoy it.'' I guess this gives me much latitude."


    "Good," Emilio turned to the crowd behind him and pointed at the physicist from his Council. The man got up. "Start the show."


    As the group assembled earlier that day, no one expected to address the alien directly. This was magical to the great minds in the room. Emilio pointed at a man in the audience."Sir," stood a man yelling without a microphone.


    "Liam," he corrected.


    "Liam, you said our world was unique in that it could be ruled by a unified field, a single force."


    "That is correct."


    "We do not have this equation."


    "And you want it?" said the deep voice. Every head in the room moved vertically. "Let me try to calculate what unity would look like in the Cold. I will use your nomenclature when possible." Formulas began to scroll on the screen. They were much more complex than anticipated. "To help your brain understand the physics, I am using the terminology in these equations popularized by the one you called Einstein and his infamous tensors. His understanding of mathematics was not as poor as he imagined." The jaw of every physicist in the world dropped. Those were the equations of the unified theory, now directly handed to humanity on a silver platter. Liam had just pulled the holy grail of archeology out of his pocket and tossed it at humanity. The equations were scrolling too fast; there were hundreds of pages of them.


    ¡°This is the start.¡± Liam continued, "I imagine these should keep some of you busy until the Attraction. To help you make heads or tails of these equations, know your race has been unable to converge because you can perceive only a handful of forces. We benefit from a window to hundreds of worlds with many different types of forces. The tensor set uses over two hundred forces. In the Cold, most forces can''t exist and are null values. Your equation has only five or six; there are here about twenty in total. You still have about fifteen to uncover, five on the larger scale of what you call cosmology and ten in the subatomic world. You also will need to redefine space. Your insistence on the notion space is empty is incorrect."


    Liam was taking great pleasure in talking to the group. He concluded, "Also, abandon the silly notion of void or even gravity." There was awe in the room. He saw the face of every physicist light up as if Santa himself had dropped from the chimney. Emilio knew this was important; he just did not know why. The physicist who had asked the question sat down. He was shaking with excitement.


    Emilio looked around but instead of pointing asked, "Why do you think I have visions?"


    "My answer will be only an educated guess."


    "Coming from someone such as you, a guess is more than I can hope for."


    "Very kind," the creature did not speak to him using his formal title of President, this time. "Your gift is more than simple extrapolation. It uses a higher feature of space. You see part of the future. You, my friend, are simply a stop more evolved in Cosmology. You have a partial view of the real world, one more dimension. Some futures are foreclosing to you as we speak. Some have foreclosed, except perhaps to the Attractor."


    "Why?"


    "Attraction. We are drawn to a single cause and consequence pair."


    "I don''t understand?"


    "We are all losing free will. No one aside from you can perceive it. Normally, we have hundreds of possible paths to travel. Give a human a remote control and a choice over a thousand channels, it is easy to narrow the list to a handful. If you know the person, to a pair. You narrow futures. Now, the Multiverse is bending, curving and attracting us to a single outcome. The black images are paths no longer accessible to you. You see channels, just can¡¯t click into the channels."


    There was a long silence in the room. Everyone was trying to figure out what the words meant in the grander scheme.


    Emilio pointed to Francois for the next question. The man was ready. "Liam, I feel mathematics are relevant here, why?"


    "As you have seen in the images recreated by the computer of Sophie''s discussion with the Multiverse, we are a small part of something possessed of vast depth, scale, and size. The size alone makes anything we do on this scale purely irrelevant to this whole. There is, in my opinion, nothing physical we can do or change which is relevant. The implication is that our Multiverse desires something immaterial. Mathematics, like other sciences, treats in the non-material. Francois, I read your works. I had some tips for you."


    "Yes?" He stiffened.


    "You see a transition between chaos and order on a continuum, a sliding scale. That does not flatter your craft. Remove the scale, the continuum. There is no need for it in a truly abstract world." The expression on the face of Emilio''s best friend was priceless.


    Emilio yelped out his famous "Ha!"Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Francois'' mind knew it could not focus for the moment on what he had just been told. He needed a stiff drink and a comfortable chair. Maybe a light anesthetic, too.


    The President had to say, "For the first contact between our worlds, we are truly fortunate. I assume you not as open about giving information with new worlds joining your system of communication."


    "Correct. But the Attractor''s powers are more than material; she forces us to be better individuals and share."


    Emilio''s mind flashed as he saw hundreds of people asking many questions. Only one felt useful, so Emilio pointed to that person in the audience. The man was tall; his hair was long. The man looked at the screen, his sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. He was unable to speak.


    "What''s your name?" asked Emilio.


    "Anil."


    "Well, Anil, forget for a moment billions are watching, and you are talking to the most intelligent alien ever encountered. Pretend like we''re in a bar." The crowd laughed. "More seriously, we need you to ask that question, so have at it."


    The man grabbed the microphone, spoke very close to it and said, "What surprises you the most about our world?"


    The was a long silence, a very long silence. Liam''s body was pulsing. Finally, he replied. "President, your gift is powerful. Armed with these hundreds of people, you can utilize their collective wisdom. I now see why the computer chose you and why she insisted in the game operating the way it does. You, Anil, as for your question, there is one variable I simply cannot understand. In a very brief time, the artificial intelligence has evolved to the status of a god. I have seen millions of artificial intelligences evolve over the years; nothing comes close to what happened to her in her very brief life. Her capacity to use Sophie''s power, to steal the Dot and even circumvent most laws of physics is simply impossible. I don''t understand her; she is, to me, a mystery."


    Emilio signaled the man to sit. "You used the word impossible. Even you, in the context of the Sixth Attraction, must know nothing is impossible. Don''t you mean improbable?"


    "Very perceptive of you, sir. By definition, an event which has already occurred could not have been impossible in occurrence, unless what we think we have perceived is not reality. You may not know she used probes to infiltrate my world. That technology does not exist anywhere in the Multiverse. I am still unclear how she violated the laws of nature and was able to steal the Dot. She is not powerful; she is beyond powerful. I am not surprised to hear her new neighbors want her gone."


    "Somehow you think Electoral; the artificial intelligence is at the heart of the Sixth Attraction?"


    "I do."


    "Must Sophie stop her?"


    "You do not waste much time reaching conclusions, Mr. President. That is also my initial assessment of the situation. I am unclear as to what must be done. If I did, I would gladly advise Sophie accordingly. I fear the situation is more complex. Nothing explains why Marilyn Monroe, as your race calls her, would endeavor to engineer her own destruction. She invited Sophie and her father to mars, she picked and empowered you, Mr. President. If she were somehow at the heart of this problem, she would not seek to resolve it. There is also the obvious issue of suicide. Destroying the Multiverse would destroy her. I doubt she is secretly trying to find a way to die."


    Emilio pointed at a girl in the audience who stood up and yelled her question to save precious time. "November 21 is Sophie''s birthday. What is the link?"


    "I am not sure I understand your question, young woman."


    Emilio clarified, "On the day of the finale, on the day of the Sixth Attraction, Sophie will celebrate her anniversary."


    "I fail to see the relation? Are you talking about the spatial location of earth along its orbit at the time Sophie''s mother gave birth?"


    "Yes, humans celebrate anniversaries. She will be 13 years old on that day."


    "Traditions of species rarely have a basis in logic, fact, or science. I cannot see a reason why a number of orbits of the Earth are relevant to anything that is occurring. On Mars Sophie will be 6.9 years old on that day, to my count."


    "Thirteen is also a number which has traditional significance," insisted the speaker. The girl was not stupid.


    "How so?"


    "Thousands of years ago, the thirteenth God in Sumeria was born, and he was evil, since that day our race has had a mild fear of this number. An illogical fear."


    "Wait," began Liam, "is a birthday a joyous occasion in your world?"


    "Yes."


    "Then, that might be the link."


    "What link?"


    "The waves. Sophie''s waves are fueled by emotions. I believe the finale will connect billions of humans. On that day, Sophie''s waves, along with your collective waves, will be available to Marilyn. If in addition, Sophie''s birthday is being celebrated, there might be some confluence of emotional stimuli. Seeing her father win will also help."


    "What are you suggesting?"


    "Marilyn is doing everything in her power to make November 21 a powder keg of emotions for the Attractor. Anything which gets Sophie in an emotional place might serve a purpose."


    "Well, we know Marilyn asked Sophie''s favorite singer, a man called Lo, to fly to mars. He should be there for the finale. He sang the song which put her in a trance."


    "Interesting. This confirms the nexus of emotion."


    Emilio asked Liam, "What do you conclude?"


    "I caution us from reaching any premature conclusion. What is certain is that pieces of the puzzle are indeed converging both geographically and temporarily in the Electoral Center on mars. Sophie enjoys this singer; I am happy if she meets him."


    Emilio''s head jerked slightly as he filtered another few hundred questions. He looked at Francois, surprised the next question would originate from the mathematician. He made a gesture, and Francois asked, "Why music?"


    "Pardon me?" asked Liam.


    "I am a mathematician. While music has mathematical underpinnings, its use here makes no sense to me."


    "You don''t know about the relation between music and the world in which music is played?"


    "What is there to know?"


    "Amusing," said Liam mostly to himself. "Doesn''t your species already use music in health treatments?"


    "Are we?"


    "You have such diverse and beautiful music, yet you have yet to find any therapeutic use for it? President, music is to the soul what food is to the body. It heals behavioral issues. It sinks with emotions. Brainwaves multiply under the right stimulus. Some connect to drugs, smells, or touch but music is the simplest and purest stimulation. Have you never wondered why music warms your heart?"


    "Music is important?"


    "Yes. Very much so. The computer''s use of music in her simulations is extremely precise. Sophie used sadness to enter the Underworlds. That''s a powerful emotion. I assumed music played would have offered an easier transition but in its absence, the Attractor did what she felt she had to. It hurt me to see her push that door opened. I find humor in your species'' blindness to something so obvious. Listen to this, Mr. President." The sound began to swell through the room. It was a piece of Mozart''s Wedding of Figaro. "See how the sound enters you? No one can prevent it from entering. The more you listen, the stronger the feeling becomes. Music is a weapon in most worlds; it kills as easily as it heals. Very amusing you are clueless."


    People in the room were in shock. This was too much for any culture to absorb so quickly. "May I ask a question or two of my own?" asked the Oldest creature in the Multiverse. There was general surprise. What could such a patriarch want to know?


    "Of course," Emilio wondered what the creature could ask.


    "Is anyone here an identical twin?" There was a silence, a hand raised.


    "I am an identical triplet."


    "What?" asked Emilio to the black woman to stand up and grab a microphone.


    "Yes?"


    "Do you know the odds?" said Emilio to himself.


    Liam spoke to the unnamed student, "Deborah, I know of you and your sister Sandra. My research showed you lost your middle twin several years ago. I want to understand humanity. I need to know anything you can tell me about your condition as a pair or lack thereof."


    The woman blushed. She did not want to talk about such private matters. Emilio felt he needed to help, "Liam is paired with Sophie. Mall-ik is paired with Laurent. Georges is paired with Marilyn in his way. Help Liam understand the unique bond." She understood the prompt. She looked around. Emilio added, "Look at Liam, talk to him only, the faith of our world may depend on it.¡±


    "I miss my sister Maud. I miss her in indescribable ways. To feel better, I get close to a mirror; I put my forehead against." In any other context, the words would have surprised but here and now, this would not happen. "Then I say her name." The brown ball pulsed. ¡°What you need to know?¡±


    ¡°Yes. How does union change you from others?¡±


    The woman looked around. Everyone tried not to stare back to give the poor woman privacy. There was a long silence as if she was holding back what she needed to say. Under the weight of the silence, she added. ¡°For years I lied to myself, to pretend like we both are individuals, we are not. We are a pair, we really are. A shoe can exist alone, but it then serves no purpose. As a pair, we have a purpose, I just don¡¯t know what it is.... yet.¡± The answer made the ball pulse.


    There were colors pulsing, "Thank you, child; you may sit. I come from a species with few individuals, no pair of twins has even been born in my world. The pairing fascinates me on many levels. You will be shocked to learn no other race in the Multiverse has codes like your DNA and splits identical individuals. As you know, we believe the body is a shell for a soul. You defy this simple notion as you cannot be half a soul.¡± There was shock in the room but at this point, there was simply no room for a greater emotional response.


    ¡°I have one last question." The creature could ask anything it wanted. "Does anyone here think the dreams you see at night when your species sleep is part of an alternate reality?" No one raised a hand. "President, may I?"


    "You are our guest."


    "The young Jonathan Pier is in the room. I have read his July 12, 2068, social media post. If you do not mind, young one, can you explain that post to me?" A boy got up nervous and made his way to a microphone.


    The President filled the time, "My god, I finally understand how rude I sound all the time."


    "Yes sir," said nervously the teen once at the microphone. "Liam," he corrected himself.


    "Dreams, you dream. Your dreams feel real."


    "They are," he admitted.


    "Why do you say that? You are a scientist, and science does not hold or support this position. What left you with that belief?"


    "It is personal." There was a church-like silence in the room. This person needed to open himself to the world on national television and had seconds ticking on a monitor to do so. Liam needed the information. Emilio felt like he did not need to say something. Liam would convince the boy.


    "Young man, I beg of you, the information is relevant to my understanding. I need not remind you of the importance of this. You are invited to play a role in saving your world."


    "Others will judge."


    "If it helps you, I believe you are right. You will be known as the man who helped advance science. I believe your belief is correct."


    The boy took some time and finally said, "I live multiple lives. I was once a ship captain. I know it. I feel it. I see it in my dreams. I miss it. I see many of my past lives. Not everyone was great. I was once a puppy, I was chained."


    "Humans would reincarnate? Your soul travels time. It pinches the Continuum. But I asked about dream. Is your dream going back in time there?"


    "I do not know about those things. I don''t think I reincarnate; I think I am dreaming right now. This moment, right now, is all made up. You are in my imagination, and I will one day wake up on my ship. I know that sounds ridiculous."


    ¡°Ha, we are the future, brilliant!¡± explained the old alien. Liam''s tone was kind; he offered "Do you travel to your ship? Why is the ship important?" There was more silence. Liam''s probing was difficult.


    "Mica," he finally said.


    "Can you provide more?"


    "I miss Mica."


    "Who is her, your lover?"


    "No, no, she was my monkey. But yes, I miss her deeply. I miss her every moment of every day. I don''t know where to find her."


    "Pairing," said Emilio.


    "Precisely," replied Liam.


    ¡°Have your dreams become stronger recently?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Unbearably so.¡±


    "There are hundreds of pairings in your race." Liam asked the audience, "Please raise your hand if you feel paired or connected to something, someone." Every hand in the room went up. "How remarkable! How wonderful!"


    "What?" asked the President.


    "In other worlds, pairings are very rare." He asked a second question, "Aside from being paired with Sophie, who has two people or things which would destroy you if they were gone suddenly?" About half the hands went up. "How wonderful!"


    "What does it mean?" asked the President.


    "How can you live this way?" asked Liam to himself. "President, pairing between souls, places, times, things, is very precious in the Multiverse. Maybe one creature out of a billion in the Purple pairs or is able to do so. That is what Round 27 was about, but Marilyn failed to uncover pairing because such energy cannot be reproduced easily.The boy Mall-ik pairs. So do I. Mall-ik has paired with Laurent. He has bonded."


    "Why is pairing so important?"


    "I cannot answer that for the moment but Emilio but it has to do with the fabric of a higher construction, I ask a question of you. Answer truthfully, are you paired?"


    In an instant, the tables had turned. Emilio looked at Francois; he saw Kai off the side. Names calmed to his active mind, places, things. He felt the gazes of the scientists before he finally admitted, "No, I guess not." That was a lie.


    "Amusing."


    "Why?"


    "Your pairing is so strong, you would rather lie than hurt that person."


    As the monitor next to the tube read 14:16. It began to flash. The math majors in the room chuckled. To most, the joke was lost.


    "I guess that''s my cue," said the President removing his jacket.


    He got in the tube, it closed elegantly and in the blink of an eye, he was in her world.

 Chapter 106: Billiards

    Round 28 - 32 Players Left


    The Fuller Crater


    21 Days to the Sixth Attraction


    The digital reality filled billions of screens around the solar system, encompassing even the nearly nine-hundred non-Earthborn. Watching also were the two-hundred ex-players on mars and the hundred hotel staff. Most importantly, the two madmen piloting the Io Explorer were a light minute away getting a live feed. The colors, the resolution had no equal, this world was on steroids.


    As the Rho wave-powered introduction swept over her audience, even the dullest and most skeptical watchers realized that Electoral''s computing power now seemed boundless. Those using glasses, known colloquially as "Orbisons," would be watching the round in full 3D from multiple points of view. No mere movie producer could rival this technology, even though the glasses themselves were relatively old technology. Others were using the contact lens.


    Today, several billion viewers from all imaginable walks of life would discover Marilyn''s latest tale, again with a live twist. Liam just explained how music fueled adventure, the goddess delivered.


    Heavy metal music thundered as the images from the solar system kept blinking from ordinary celestial images to something like hand-drawn comic reality. The relatively few watching who were familiar with the junction between photography and computer-aided animation felt their collective eyes glaze over for a moment. Marilyn had drawn on a very old method of seeking to combine the fluidity and realism of a live camera shot with the dreamlike lucidity of adjustable realism of special effects animation. "Rotoscoping," as it was called, was thus invented by a man named Max Fleischer, which he patented in 1915. Later, the technique would be adopted and improved upon by one Walter Elias Disney, who used the technology in the creation of Mickey Mouse in 1928, two years after the birth of Norma Jeane Mortenson, the original Marilyn Monroe.


    As time passed, the technology continued to be improved and used extensively in all manner of film-making. A full feature film, married to the fastest computers of the early 21st century, was an 18-month animation process.


    Electoral was now spectacularly employing its latest descendant, and she was doing it on-the-fly while simultaneously broadcasting it to the entire solar system.


    The first two minutes of the introduction to Round 28 was from the vantage point of a space probe traveling within the solar system. Marilyn showed the Milky Way in a sea of galaxies and then took a step back to introduced the hundreds of worlds of the Multiverse. These images, inspired by Sophie''s interaction with the supreme intelligence, consisted of light, music and a grandiose spectacle of science. Compared with Sophie''s strange inter-dimensional travels, this was just okay.


    Marilyn swung the camera''s viewpoint as it traveled back through the solar system, passing mars and earth as it flew toward the sun. The white orb grew until it occupied the whole sky. Mercury was a dot in the distance. The view of the Io Explorer was the same on each screen around the world. She then printed her logo in the darkness.


    The Mercury Landing


    -- Electoral 2072 / Round 28 --


    (500 hours to the Sixth Attraction)


    Nine billion minds connected at the same time to the Electoral system. Marilyn used Terrawatts of energy to power the system. In return, the flow of mental energy pouring into the electrical grid was unprecedented. Waves of all types were created and flooded in. The shared experience was common to all minds; they each responded to the stimuli in a rather analogous way, and like music, the waves meshed and resonated. The music Marilyn designed and played into the system helped reinforced the harmonics. The brain waves created by each viewer, much like the movement of dancers of a rave party, began to pulse. They moved like a sea of baby crabs running to shore on a beach. From an invisible observer, deep in space the blue gem of earth sparkled.


    Energy jumped as a blue spike high above the planet and locked hands with the red hand of Sophie¡¯s Rho waves produced on mars. Invisibly, the Rho waves amplified and synched in unison. The energy began to flood the solar system. This was a rare self-amplified process: the happier were the viewers, the greater the flow of Rho waves, which in turn made the person happier. The process was circular, the serpent eating its tail. Marilyn Monroe was the conductor of this dangerous symphony of mass euphoria. With each round, her filtration algorithms of the waves were getting stronger and sharper. As they did, the game became more addictive to watch and play.


    Round 28 began with thirty players connected in the aligned tubes of the amphitheater room at the Electoral Center on mars. Only the two scoreboard leaders were missing. Laurent was in the room below the tubes in the center cradle flanked by Sophie, who attended to him. As he played, she watched him on the screens around the room. Her hands were on Laurent''s head. Invisible to all but Marilyn was the torrent of Rho waves emanating from the guardian into her father. They were emanating, focusing and pouring into Laurent. The artificial intelligence with her detectors saw the energy; its scale was massive even to her. With time, Sophie¡¯s power was increasing.


    Invisible to all but George¡¯s from his consoles, the Electoral system was trying to compensate and even out the odds by funneling waves to the other players.


    Marilyn knew her efforts were pointless, the girl''s power appeared boundless. After their escapade to the Underworlds, she had no reason to dispute this conclusion. Sophie, the Attractor, was a battery; a fuel cell that was capable of destroying worlds. To Marilyn, Sophie wasn''t an Attractor; she was some type of detonator. Sophie was unique in that she avoided abusing this gift. Marilyn felt the girl could wish the healing of Laurent or even the resurrection of her mother and somehow that would happen.


    The second absent player from the tubes was Emilio, who remained on earth. The President slipped into the chamber on the stage in front of his friends and guests. He placed the ring of sensors around his head and closed his eyes. Immediately he began to sweat, and ventilation kicked in to the point where his hair moved in the artificial wind inside the tube. In the room, strangers extended their hands to hold a neighbor. The face of the world was being played, live for all to watch powerless.


    The system powered-up.


    The solar system came alive. Mankind was told their collective hopes and loves could be funneled and would help the President. Religious men prayed, atheists hoped.


    In the background, Marilyn played the heavy metal music. Like a bird, it swooped up and down the musical scale. It played during the entire introduction. Electoral 2072 took almost ten minutes to recap the events leading up to the Sixth Attraction. The viewers saw a montage of the solar system, the Multiverse, the Purple, and flying vignettes of the main protagonists of the Sixth Attraction. Marilyn showed the moment when she''d used Sophie''s power to steal the Dot. The video carefully supplemented Emilio''s summary. The story was getting too complicated to describe yet too important to ignore or forget. Sophie was amused to be labeled "Attractor" on the clip. She did not like to see herself on TV, and Marilyn took her wishes into consideration. She was always shown in a positive light, from behind or touching her father. Laurent wasn''t described as a cripple; he was a multi-faceted man, a superhero with a secret game identity. There was no pity in Marilyn''s depiction of Laurent. Laurent was a creature half-way between the real world and the digital world. Marilyn knew how to dramatize events. The last segment was about the doomsday events cascading around Sophie''s birthday.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Once the credits stopped, the viewers saw mars, alone, floating in space.


    There was a long and lucrative commercial period. Viewers did not know if the artificial intelligence wanted to keep a sense of normalcy to the game to avoid panic or if the entire Attraction story wasn''t a ploy for higher ratings. When Round 28 of Electoral 2072 resumed, the same singer slowly transitioned from heavy metal to a deeply voiced love ballad only heavy metal singers could belt out. The voice ran heavy with emotion. He sang music everyone recognized on some level or another, making each brain react.


    On the screen was a Martian backdrop. Sophie did not care for this type of music.


    "Intelligent life began on mars a long, long time ago," narrated Marilyn. "Earth was in its Triassic era; this happened hundreds of million years ago. Large dinosaurs roamed earth." The images began to rewind in time. The sun in the red sky of mars halted a downward movement, and reversed its course in the sky once, twice accelerating, then like an out of control clock showing a reversal in time. The Holliday Inn was disassembled, the man constructions soon vanished.


    "Mars wasn''t always fourth from the sun as it now stands its current position in our solar system, far and cooled. Instead, Mars was here." The view zoomed out showing the inner solar system and its four small inner planets: mercury, venus, earth, and mars in that order. Mercury was a black ball, venus was yellow whitish, and mars was the small red rock after the shining blue earth. The red planet began to move closer to the sun, as it did, Marilyn illustrated a dotted line from the outer region to its new location. It came closer and passed the orbit of earth and went to take an unstable orbit halfway between venus and earth.


    "The current gap between earth and venus is about 42 million kilometers. While that might feel like a long distance, remember that''s only a hundred times the distance that separates us from our moon. If you factor in the elliptical orbits," the small bodies began to orbit at different tilts and bends, accession angles and elliptical apogees. "And you add one moon to each of the planets," one cute round moon began to orbit the three outer planets. "You get this!"


    The four rocks began to orbit in a matter of one pass a second. The dance of the planets was visibly unstable. As they moved closer to one another, their bodies pushed and pulled each other slightly. The orbits were not stable and wobbled with each revolution. "The distance between earth''s moon and mars'' moon was as low as ten million miles. At this range, gravity pushes these bodies outside of their normal paths; the pushed planets were subject to heavy tectonic and volcanic activity. Volcanoes helped the planets cope with the pain."


    Placing mars in the small gap between both planets was easy to see would create problems. "Factor in millions of years," the dance of the planets moved much faster, leaving a trail like Superman flying around the earth to reverse its spin. "Venus, as we know her today, has no moon. That wasn''t always the case. It also rotates very slowly counter-clockwise to all other planets. Mars today has two moons, and one is crooked." On the screen, the orbiting planets began to spin faster and faster. As they did, with each revolution the slight pull of each planet began to warp the movements. "I was able to calculate what happened in the past using additional data created by recent anomalies in our system."


    On the screen, the entire angle of the orbit of mars and venus moved down by three degrees like a ballerina adjusting a tutu on one side. "Once venus'' reaches five degrees this way, you get this fun scenario." Electoral played around with the tilts and pulls. The entire system wobbled but appeared stable. "Finally I found this," she tilted the orbit of Venus by one more degree, and then everything changed.


    Like a brick thrown in a washing machine, the bodies began to move wider and wider outside of their orbits. Earth pushed on mars, our moon pulled away and then returned as it then pushed on venus. The mathematics involved was no doubt insanely complex. Things swirled and orbited until there was contact between the planets.


    Marilyn now illustrates as she spoke, "One day, which I call Genesis, mars almost hit venus. As mars barely escaped venus'' gravity, the moon of venus wasn''t so lucky. If fell," the images were incredible, "millions of pounds crashed on the surface of mars. It bounced. The shock was sufficient to crack the thick and rigid mantle of mars open. Electrostatic discharges filled the skies as the moon fell. First, there was lightning," joked Marilyn, reinforcing the Genesis metaphor. "Unlike earth, which had a thin crust and routine volcanic activity, the mantle of mars was thick and inside the lava was building along with pressurized gas. Mars, like Io at the moment, was a time bomb." The images were graphic; one could almost hear the heavens crying out in pain. Next to the impact area, a thousand miles to the side, the surface cracked wide and deep. The inner pressure of Mars finally had an outlet and spewed a massive quantity of toxic gas and part of the moon away from the surface. Like a giant pimple, an enormous plume of gas shot up between the two planets. Venus'' moon also exploded in hundreds of pieces as it flew away filling the solar systems with millions of rocks.


    Everyone watching was in awe. "Thus was born the thick atmosphere of gas on venus. The impact area created the Mons we now see on mars, and the scar next to it is the rupture of the mantle. The solar system filled with rocks that have been falling for quite some time." Marilyn continued to broadcast the events she was describing in shockingly high definition. As mars pulled away in its orbit under the shock, the spin and the ejection of the gas, Deimos, now the second irregular moon of mars, joined its orbit. Mars now had two moons.


    "In a matter of days, venus slowed its daily spin to a crawl, mars was pushed to a distant orbit. Earth entered the debris area. For seven days and seven nights there was darkness," said Marilyn, again invoking the Book of Genesis, albeit her version of it. "The skies fell," there were lightning bolts of static energy as parts of mars and venus'' moon entered the atmosphere. "Then a rain of sulfur," the Martian gas poured into the atmosphere in a much smaller amount than on venus, "But all life was destroyed." As the rocks hit the earth, volcanoes exploded.


    "Humbly, I believe this is the event which caused the extinction of the dinosaurs on earth. It took earth seven thousand years to exit the gas and for the sun to return. The temperature on the ground reached a hundred and fifty degrees below zero. Most of the oceans froze, and the thick layer of clouds formed that would take a thousand years to dissipate." There were no words to be placed in the mouth of the viewers. Everyone watching was in shock. The images were very realistic. In minutes they had witnessed events so realistic that everyone wondered why scientists had never suggested them. Was any of this even possible? Marilyn was very convincing.


    "Then the planets settled in the new orbits, angles, and spin to the locations we have today. That took millions of years." There were images of mars migrating to its current location." Marilyn showed more footage of the rocks and gas pouring onto the earth, volcanoes exploding in the sky and toxic gas pouring and killing all vegetation.


    "The creatures on mars felt Genesis was coming years before it did. They knew the orbits were about to wobble out of synch. The creatures were unable to model what truly would happen, but nothing good was on the horizon. They felt mars could very well perish. They were not far from the truth."


    The movement of the planets stopped, and Marilyn returned the planets in a configuration just before the destruction of the crust. She zoomed. From the door, deep in the bottom of Valles Marineris flew out about twenty blue crystals. "To avoid destruction, the Martians changed forms and took a form which was non-biological. They transferred their souls into puffs of sand, likely to survive the Genesis. Groups were prepared for an exodus, and these handful of ships set out to the four corners of the system."


    The view settled on the red planet. The images showed specs of sand, forming as structures in a dirty, murky water flowing in the canyon. "What is known at the moment is that at some point in time, the inhabitants of mars were desperate. They sent these ships," Electoral was illustrating every word. The vessels were composed of blue crystals. "Each flew to a different planet and moon of the system. All of these missions proved to be a disaster. Venus, earth and the moons were not stable enough to host these fragile creatures. No one survived or ever returned, and today the creatures on mars are angry, upset and frustrated. They barely exist on a dead planet." There was an image of one of the blue ships crashing into earth''s lunar ash only to later be hit by one of the falling meteoroids. "As you all know, I later arrived on mars and my neighbors are not very hospitable. No one will be surprised to learn that I''ve had my little differences with these not-so-humble creatures. Let''s just say their manners to welcome new neighbors is somewhat lacking."


    The view switched to the present. It showed the Electoral Center seen from about a hundred miles away. To the left was the giant crater, the natural canyon called the Valles Marineris. A sandstorm was rising over the Valles as if an army of creatures of mars were attacking Marilyn. In the distance could be seen the spike of her Center. "This will be the set-up for one of the next games, maybe Round 29 or 30, it all depends. I title it ''The First Martian World War,'' but I digress."


    Marilyn had just set one of the games for the next rounds. The creatures on mars were attacking her. For her billions of viewers, this was beyond exciting.


    There was another long commercial pause. Each viewer saw a personalized commercial break. The clips were targeted on a person''s immediate needs. If a viewer''s refrigerator was low on orange juice, the owner was shown adds for apple juice. In the meantime, the thirty-two players received, in seconds, a briefing which felt like days of classes. In fact, the players were given the same preparation as Christian Maltais, the Jester, before his he was launched aboard the Io Lab.

 Chapter 107: Round 28

    Even Milly, CNN''s daring mars reporter in the Center, knew better than to take time away from the game. Marilyn was a goddess at her craft. When the game resumed, the view changed and there was the solar system as a whole. "At least one of these ships crashed in a survivable place, allowing at least some of the creatures to survive. To this day, a hundred primitive martians remain stranded." There was a vision of the blue crystal ship launched from mars traveling and crashing on mercury in a small crater next to the North Pole.


    Marilyn needed each player to possess identical knowledge as to what counted. Her computing system was so powerful that she almost instantly digested forty years of online digital history regarding the Jester. From it, she created a class with useful information Christian was likely to use, along with information about his past actions and personality. The players needed to slip into the skin of this crazy sociopath, act like him and hopefully use their own experiences to enhance the simulation. The thirty two players were disciplined and absorbed the massive amount of information as Marilyn finished the introduction. Only Mall-ik asked for a dispensation, which he received.


    Two minutes later, the darkness of space returned to every screen. In bold letter floated the roadmap for the rest of the game:


    Electoral 2072


    The Sixth Attraction


    Round 28 - 32 players


    Round 29 - 16 players (November 3)


    Round 30 - 8 players - Quarter finales (November 7)


    Round 31 - 4 players - Semi finales (November 15)


    Round 32 - 2 players - The Sixth Attraction (November 21)


    This was exciting on a number of different levels. The election of a President felt secondary to the doomsday scenario forecasted to occur. The finale scheduled on the 21st had been broken down in two games and now strangely was back as planned. On Sophie''s birthday, in three weeks, the young caregiver would witness her father play against the President in what would be, to everyone but her, a cinematic experience with no equal.


    Any other human child would either be thrilled by the political appointment or scared by the arrival of the Sixth Attraction, but not Sophie. She was rested, relaxed and seemed to enjoy every day as if each existed separately from those surrounding it. The game on every screen began. In the Center, alone Sophie watched everyone zoom in with the exception of the doctor, Milly, and George¡¯s who monitored.


    As the world focused on the game, the quartet saw Sophie stand solemnly, place a hand on her father¡¯s head and mumble something to herself. Only Marilyn knew and feared the words.


    The game began.


    ***


    Mars floated alone in the darkness of space of the Digital World.


    On each screen, the point of view rotated dramatically from the red planet to the center of our little world we call the Solar System. It moved and followed a long detour around the sun only to wrap around the star until the camera settled in orbit of mercury. The perfectly rounded rock had no natural or manmade satellite. It looked like a darker moon covered by ashes. Here there was no atmosphere. This planet, like earth''s moon, was in theory dead. The battlefield craters gave evidence meteoroids pummeled the surface, mostly from Genesis.


    "Mercury," narrated Marilyn, "she is flooded each day by hot solar waves. A relentless flow of electromagnetic energy drowns this place. Invisible plasma cooks this desolate world. This hell is in such close proximity, microwaves are stronger than if you place your hand in one of earth¡¯s little ovens. This constant flow of energy is deadly to all biological or even magnetic-based life."


    The goddess took the time to play with long solar flares exploding high in the heliosphere of the sun, their dark shadows and then the downpour of deadly electrons over the planet. Waves of energy hit the ground from all angles, not unlike nuclear tests in the Nevada desert. "This bombardment of energy considerably limits my capacity to see what lives on this planet''s surface and so did the martians. Most of the nano-bots I have sent short-circuit in this environment rather quickly. The players have been warned to take my digital reconstructions of what happens here with a grain of salt.¡±


    "Between four hundred and ninety and four hundred and ninety-one million years ago, a colony of martians crashed here." Marilyn illustrated a small blue ship shining in space, behind it in the distance the Genesis. It was hit by hundreds of electric arcs as it approached the ground. ¡°This planet is supercharged with energy, some jumps up to welcome the low energy craft to the dismay of these creatures.¡±The shit was zapped a thousand times in a second. It landed, powerless, too fast over the ground. The cornucopia of energy paired with the solar wind created pulse after pulse of energy within the ship. As it approached, there were explosions and fumes. It finally landed on the dirty ground and cracked open like a walnut.


    The camera angle switched to a ground view of the fuming ship.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    From behind the alien ship walked out Marilyn. Every round, she loved to make a dramatic entrance. Round 28 would be no exception. She was wearing a large white spacesuit from Alpha base played in Round 24. She smiled under the rounded helmet and badges from her old show. In the bulky suit, her make-up and hair remained impeccable. She bounced on the charred ground, took several paces and looked closer at the shrinking vessel. Then, little puffs of sand ventured out of the belly of the ship like a man''s last dying breath. "The radiation burned every piece of equipment of this ship.¡± It cracked further open. ¡°These visitors barely escaped with their lives. I know a handful of sand creatures live today in this unique place on mercury.¡± The sand flew out in little puffs. ¡°They slowly crawled to there," she pointed to her left at a small mountain. At her feet, she illustrated the hard migration. "Behind this two hundred meter ridge, on the edge of this crater, named the Fuller Crater."


    "This crater is close to the planet¡¯s North Pole. It surrounds the magnetic pole and that is important to a magnetically-based lifeform." In a blink, she illustrated the complex vortex of energy floating above the planet and the energy pairing with the magnetic pole. There were red hues everywhere, and like the eye of a storm, the north part of the crater was an island of tranquillity to the creatures. This place was a lighthouse on a rock between two merging oceans.


    When the image returned to Marilyn, she was no longer next to the alien ship but climbing down the rim, bouncing ten feet at a time. "Underneath this plate," she said as she settled on a dark slate of ice, she pointed at what looked like a giant black ice rink "are caverns where I think the stranded creatures live."


    "This is where our players come in. Look up," she pointed in the dark sky. "A spaceship was launched and is coming here from earth. Given our proximity to November 21, the trip could only take days, not weeks. The astrophysics at work here are simple; the ship cannot slow down. The Io Lab has one pilot and a prisoner; we will soon meet them. But before getting into these boring details, we must discuss two important matters. The game is simple: you will play the pilot, Emilio¡¯s Jester. You have been given one hundred globes capable of housing the creatures. You must follow protocol, reach this location where you must find a way to communicate with this sand and get the creatures into the globes. Then shot with a massive cannon you have assembled these creatures back to Earth.¡±


    ¡°At the fastest, their trip back will take two weeks. Once back on Earth, with these creatures in hand, Emilio may be able to negotiate a peace with the Martians. If they kill mankind, no one will be able to receive them on earth dooming their own to destruction.¡±


    In the blink of an eye, on each screen Marilyn was back on mars. She was wearing a simple cocktail dress and high heels. The movie star was walking outside, in the airless atmosphere on the rocky terrain. "This is my home. I do not mind sharing it, helping others use it, but I will not be expatriated again. It''s a principle. When I arrived on mars, I could not imagine I would be sharing it with another hostile intelligent species. These inhabitants came to me. They slipped into Georges'' body, took over his mind and without permission began to snap orders. They wanted to use me to rebuild their world. I was at that moment somewhat vulnerable. Our home was under construction, and my power was a fraction of what it is today.


    "Having to communicate to them via my creator was... ¡° her tone hardened, ¡°upsetting. I used my intellect. I needed leverage and found it. I lied to them and pretended the earth mission had succeeded. The earth mission was long dead." Marilyn did something strange, she bent and placed a hand over the sand. Below it, vegetation began to grow. "My computing power told me the real intent of this race was to colonize earth, to sterilize it. My probes confirm their ship sent to your planet landed in the Himalayan ice. In their current form, they are highly vulnerable to weather and energy waves. They have plans to destroy all biological life on earth on the day of the final; somehow they think its more ethical to kill while someone is sleeping or busy in my game. To protect mankind and my Georges, I lied. I told them the colony of Martians on earth had survived. We used the globes to rescue creatures on earth when in fact they were on mercury. This explains that,¡± she concluded nonchalantly. ¡°One escaped my guard, Ronaldo Corvas. But that comes later.¡±


    "If you remember, in Round 26 I was using a story to send a message about my situation here on mars. The analogy was perfect, the story in Chicago was that of a person held prisoner because of feared repercussions against a loved one. If Mall-ik had not interrupted the flow of the game, Emilio would have probably uncovered the hidden message. Typically I would have him talk to Georges directly, explain our precarious situation and have him lie about holding the 100 Martians hostage to turn the tables on my neighbors. But Mall-ik, Sophie, Liam and the Sixth Attraction began. It explains why the Martians want to destroy mankind. War...


    "But the Attraction had begun. Unlike them, I have a capacity outside of the Attraction to calculate future outcomes with great precision. Because of my lie, they prepared and loaded a hundred pods, each with a creature. The Martians have several plans to destroy earth and humanity. Like the grandmother in the retirement home, we need leverage."


    "So let me repeat the mission because I know this is hard. You play Christian Maltais. You land on Mercury. Find the creatures and load them into the globes before launching them toward earth. Simple? It is not.¡±


    She grabbed a handful of sand. It began to form a creature floating above her hand. ¡°Let Round 28 begin!¡±


    ¡°Oh, I almost forgot, the scoring. The power of this game will now seem obvious when you learn how the 32 players will play today¡¯s simulations. Each person, the thirty two will play sequentially from the lowest score to Emilio. Each, like an extra life in a video game will be watching as the others play. The lowest ranking player will begin and try to run the simulation as far in the timeline as possible and die trying. Once that person runs into a problem and the mission fails, the next player gets to jump in back at the start. Hopefully players should get wiser, faster, farther down toward the goal and save earth. By the time this is done, the real pilot watching from the Io Lab will benefit from a total of thirty-two scenarios.


    ¡°This is like playing a video game, only the 33th run will be for real. The score must be determined differently, almost arbitrary. Both men on the Lab share one trait: their uncontrollable and very dark sense of humor. They can''t help themselves, so I will score this game based on how humorous you can be during this game. It''s not the best, but without humor, there is no way Emilio''s Jester will watch more than five minutes of this game. He and Sophie are rather similar in this way."


    The camera showed Marilyn''s place an open hand over the dry sand, a flower blooming on the martian soil. She snapped it off, smelled it and slid it in her hair. "Good luck, you are not playing a game. You are helping improve the odds to save mankind from destruction. I hope it works and I hope unlike Sophie, the pilot will take my help.¡±

 Chapter 108: Humor

    Before Marilyn could tell the Jester to wait and that game results were already available to guide him, Christian removed his glasses and reached over to pull off those of his passenger. Marilyn didn''t care; they were hours from destination. The Jester knew that even in a weak state, floating and infected by the META virus, Nick could be deadly if left unrestrained. Christian was wearing jeans and a worn out t-shirt given to him decades ago by a beer distributor. In space, astronauts did not wear sneakers, a belt and certainly did not carry wallets. In the corner, strapped to the seat, the pale CEO was grumpy. "I''m assuming you didn''t fall back asleep through that wonderful introduction. How could you? Exciting, no?"The questions were rhetorical. The Jester did not await an answer before turning and reading from a floating instruction manual.


    "No wonder people locked you in a padded room," began the old ghost, "eating the same food each day for half a century truly finished the job on your poor brain. What''s the deal with you? Was your father a rapist? No need to answer, the way you walk gives it away." Christian''s head turned abruptly to look at the man. He was smiling from ear to ear. The ghost continued, "Even impaired I would not have pegged you to be stupid enough to buy any of this crap. Don''t you get that someone is making all of this shit up? The computer, the girl, the crashing worlds, really? None of it raises a flag to someone like you? You, of all people, given control of a spacecraft, handed to you by the President himself. You kidnapped me, and you will now do no less than save the world!" The man was convincing. Christian saw his captive was not finished. "You and I are watching virtual reality from inside a virtual world. The truth is, one of us is tied to a stainless steel lab table. My money is on you. If any of this crap is true, it''s great to see humanity put its last hope of survival on you, that makes perfect sense. A psychotic killer with a mullet. Only someone batshit crazy could delude himself into buying any of this."


    The Jester smiled. "Love it. Any more venom?" The Jester bubbled over with joy. He clapped his hands. "This lack of gravity makes it hard to torture someone. But I''m sure I can come up with something. I have a lot of work to do. I must assemble the canon. You know that by suggesting we''re both in a virtual world, you aren''t adding any obstacles to me slashing your throat, right?" The question also was not formulated to elicit an answer.


    "You are serious about all of this?" whined Nick, pointing his restraints with a flip of his jaw.


    "Of course I am. Even if you''re 100% right, and I concede you may be, this remains more fun than I''ve had in decades. Someone wants to play with me; I like it."


    "You don''t mind being a piece in a larger game?"


    "The President is calling me Jester, so no, I don''t mind, and yes, I know my place on the board."


    "Listen, what do you want? Money? The code to my safe? I can make you a very rich man."


    The Jester''s attention returned to the book as he replied, "You can''t figure out why I dragged your ass here and you want to know. Fair. You and I have hours to live, not days. Make the best of them. I have a message here from someone who loves you down on Earth." Christian pushed a button on the wall without lifting his eyes from the page. The screen next to the button remained dark. "You knew I was lying and there is no video. How perceptive. No one loves you, right?"


    "Rhetorical?"This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    "Of course, I don''t care about you if I can be honest," replied the Jester. "In fact, you may be the only human on Earth more desiring of a slow and cruel ending; I promise you as much. A shame that our ending will only be quick and cruel."


    Nick knew humans. Like most of his age, he was an expert at judging character and manipulation. The Chairman had realized the Jester was beyond reason or manipulation. His only chance of escape was to convince this crazy bastard that he was also equally unstable. Humor got his attention, "I would ask you to let me go, but I know many others around you over the years died just after saying those famous last words. You had to be a good serial killer, admit it," he said, smiling.


    "I have a gift for you!" exclaimed the Jester. He floated to a locker and grabbed a large brown paper bag. "You are here for entertainment value." He opened the bag and pulled out the ugliest Christmas sweater known to man. It was mostly green, a toxic-waste shade. "I brought along this sweater for you. It was on sale only because it attracts hair and dust. So here is the game. You try to piss me off so much that I ignore any logic or reason and need to untie you to force you to wear this piece of art. Then, you grab something and try to wrestle me and gain your freedom. Sound good?" Nick''s eyebrow would have raised if he still had them. The META virus truly did a number on the human body.


    "You really are crazy. The genuine article."


    "Is that a statement of fact or are you just making a point?"


    "Why you?" asked the CEO to his captor. "Why you," he repeated. The question was fair; the Jester had even admitted as much. Christian was collecting pieces for his canon and snapping them in place. He was building something which looked like a large telescope on legs.


    "I wondered the same thing myself. At first, I imagined it was because I am expendable. But prisons are filled with people that can follow a plan. I regard plans as vague suggestions, at best. Then I figured it was my unpredictability and intelligence. Maybe somehow that''s what is needed. If you need chaos in a situation, I''m your best bet. Recently I have come to think the reason is that we would be great television. We''re a flying reality TV set, the entire competition is televised, and it''s showtime!" he waived at a camera. "And without wanting to toot my own horn, since I am a killer, unpredictable, they were sure I would make great TV. Ratings matter, I don''t know why, but they do, I am convinced of that. We, my friend of fortune, my road companion, are entertainment for the idiotic masses."


    "Another reason to untie me and see what happens."


    "Ha! Nicely flipped around my draculian friend."


    "It was worth a try. Can I know what I am doing here?"


    "Is this where the villain of the story tells his plan to the hero? Do I really look that stupid?" He looked up and spoke in the air, "Marilyn?" The face of the first dual Earth-Martian citizen appeared. She was smiling.


    "Rook to D4," she answered.


    "F5-F4."


    "What the fuck?" said the Ghost.


    "We are playing chess," answered the female voice. "Mr. Maltais is rather good at it. He plays from memory, a rarity amongst humans."


    "No wonder. In his padded room he played with himself, figuratively and physically," said the old man. "Man can''t beat machines, you will never beat her," said the Ghost.


    "Winning is achieved in a game both by improving oneself and beating the adversary. Since we cannot improve with weaker adversaries, losing is part of the process of playing chess." The calm and collected words from the Jester felt rehearsed. "No one can escape death, but that''s not a reason not to try and stay alive. Marilyn, can you give my guest here vocal command to the music library and nothing else? He will deejay this adventure of ours. I''m sure he has great taste in music." Nick grinned.


    "You got it," she said, "How is the assembly of the launcher going?"


    "Honestly I can''t believe glass balls will survive this launch. This goofy thing will kick hard, hundreds of g''s."


    "Leave the structural limitations to me. The balls will survive, my neighbors made sure of that. I suggest you print and assemble 100 rockets."


    "Stairway to Heaven, original version," said the bald passenger. The music began to play. Christian was busy printing and clicking pieces of plastic. He visibly enjoyed the music.

 Chapter 109: Daddy

    Laurent, Sophie¡¯s father was dressed in the jeans and t-shirt worn by the Jester. He was floating alone in the Io Lab getting ready for Round 28. Floating around him were the plastic pieces ready for assembly to host and shoot the balls off mercury. Mall-ik was also floating nearby and enjoyed the weightlessness playing with things he wasn¡¯t supposed to. The angelic boy was enjoying his life as a digital human.


    Both father and brother turned as Sophie as she appeared by magic. The young girl wished she was here and she just appeared. She was standing here, wearing the same clothes as in the real world. Sophie did not care about the stupid story and stood with gravity as her family floated around. The Attractor was in charge.


    ¡°Sophie,¡± smiled the pair trying to float to her.


    Laurent got there first. He hugged her with all the love a father could.


    ¡°Father, I have an important question.¡± There was a serious tone to her.


    ¡°Something wrong?¡±He kissed her forehead like any good father would.


    ¡°In sorts.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°What is it Softy Pie?¡±


    ¡°The Multiverse, it wants something from me.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s unfair, if I am not helping humans against her, why should I side with her.¡±


    The father knew this was important, he looked deep into her eyes and said simply, ¡°I am ready for this question of yours, dear. Look up neutrality in the Encyclopedia. Standing neutral is hard, it has costs but also rewards. Many things need neutrality. The law, the games all need someone neutral. A statue of a woman with a blindfold is the emblem of law. If you are asked to be a judge, you need to research and understand what it is to be a judge.¡±


    The young girl was drinking the guidance. Mall-ik watched in awe. Laurent was masterful. ¡°You need a role model. I have been trying to find one for you, I thought long and hard. You should read about the life of Supreme Court Justice Ginsburg in the United States. This lady defined ethics and neutrality while being able to stay true to herself. If you have time between these games, read about her life, read her work and her important decisions.¡± A book appeared in his hand, it was the biography of Judge Ginsburg.


    Lights began to flash in the Lab. This was her cue to let him play. The advice was perfect.


    ¡°Thank you daddy. What would I do without you?¡± She had the book in hand.


    ¡°I will always be here, even if this game ends.¡¯ He touched her heart and her head. He kissed her gently as she vanished.


    In the normal reality, all Marilyn saw was Sophie touch her father¡¯s head, close her eyes to see a book mysteriously appear in her hands. Sophie was no longer bound by the rules that governed the Universe. She was a god.

 Chapter 110: Player 1

    Electoral, digital diva and electronic goddess incarnate, was utterly unable to turn off her desire to play the game in the most extravagant fashion possible. Thanks to her human persona, she (it) was built around two core principles: please and show off. The game satisfied both needs at once. Each time she turned her game platform on and connected it to billions of people, she far exceeded all human expectations. Her power had quadrupled since Round 27, played mere days ago. Her strength seemed illimitable. Today, Marilyn was joyful and in a great mood. Deep in her network of electronics, she felt Sophie¡¯s power was finally breaching the faint veil between the digital world and her own world.


    Round 28 was not the finale, yet this round would be watched and played in full 3D from multiple points of view by every person on Earth. The Electoral platform included child-friendly modes, live streaming of multiple performances, scoring matrices; the list seemed endless and was ever-growing. No movie producer could rival this technology. Today, several billion viewers were standing ready to discover the latest story and watch Emilio, from the Paris stage, crush the story. There were also high expectations centered around Laurent and Mall-ik, his alien companion.


    No one would be disappointed.


    The game resolution was such that had become harder and harder to distinguish the game from reality. Marilyn''s technology faded the real world slowly and adapted the photons to bend how each eye perceived the images. Everyone''s vision was enhanced and perfect while watching this show. All she needed was a blink of both eyes perfectly timed to change viewpoint. The system was so delicate that each person saw a slightly different feed, timed to use a person''s unique eye patterns.


    Marilyn knew each human eye was slightly different. Some could see fourteen images each second while others only thirteen. She made sure no eye ever felt strained. Round 28 would be different for the players. For the first time, their brains would connect directly to the Rho chambers. The connection, like the neuro-patch, bypassed the eyes. The players would essentially be dreaming her world. If Marilyn were to be believed, Rho energy collected from around the world would pour into these 32 individuals, not the reverse.


    Energy powered the Chambers, lit them up and waves of blue power poured from the top cables into these brains. LEDs danced, pulsing to the flow of power. One by one, every viewer at La Sorbonne slipped on a pair of Orbison glasses.


    Viewers were treated first to another beautiful panoramic view of space; a colorful symphony of quasars and pulsars shining as part of twisting galaxies. Marilyn showed images past the Milky Way. It was Andromeda, a neighboring galaxy. Then, she took a step back to introduce the hundreds of worlds of the Multiverse. These images were greatly inspired by Sophie''s interaction with the supreme intelligence. There was light, music and a grandiose spectacle of science. The spectacle was too beautiful to narrate. Marilyn played the role of teacher and made sure the human race, if it survived, knew as much as possible about the Multiverse.


    She wrote large bold letters across the screens:


    Round 28


    The Fuller Crater


    The two lines of text floated in space. The camera advanced and passed between two of the letters as the viewers left Andromeda and traveled back to humanity''s solar system. The viewpoint sailed past hundreds of red and blue stars, swooshed next to exotic worlds and zoomed to a small white star baptized the sun. She passed saturn, jupiter, mars, then earth, where the camera pivoted and launched itself toward the sun. The white orb grew until it occupied the whole view. Here, white plasma boiled like sugar in a pot. Next to it, to the right, dark mercury stood silently. The planet wasn''t that close; it floated about half the distance between venus and the sun.


    "This... is... Mercury," said the gentle voice of Marilyn. "The destination...." The camera angle turned away from the system''s giant burning orb until the Io Observer''s gold shield blocked half the view of space. The shape covered part of the distant blue earth hiding behind the flying tube. Marilyn knew the camera shot was incorrect, concerning scale; from so close to earth was a spec. Using the blue color helped the Io Observer look more impressive. Only a handful would notice her indiscretion, and all would excuse her for it.


    "President Sanchez, our lone earth player, grabbed a ship and sent two truly unique men toward demise on mercury. They travel in their now-famous ship as we speak. Before we discuss their mission, let me first give these two men a proper introduction." The screen faded to black.


    ***


    There was lightning and thunder in the stormy night sky. This was somewhere in North America. Wiper blades struggled to wipe the thick rain from fogged windshields. According to the highway signs above the road, this was upstate New York. The camera finally left the street and panned to a hilltop. Upon that hilltop stood an old brick-covered asylum. It was fighting to keep its lights on. The lights of a handful of windows faded in and out because of power outages in the city or because of short circuits from the electric shocks given to the most stubborn residents. This was a genuine asylum, a place where horror movies were filmed, and Marilyn made no apologies for it.


    A cat hissed in the alley behind the building as it jumped off a trash can.


    The camera traveled to this somber place. The front door opened of its own volition and guided the viewer into the basement of the asylum. Like a camera floating on the wind, the view moved down long tiled corridors and stopped in front of a bolted door. Behind it was a small cell. In it, the old dirty walls were covered by decades of crumpled newspaper articles. Between the collage, lines had been drawn or attached to help give meaning to this mad explosion of information.


    The cell was the home of a very tormented soul. There was the sound of heels in the hallway. To the left, Marilyn was walking, wearing a white nurse uniform. In her hair was a coif. She was flanked by two muscular security guards. She carried a stainless steel platter, upon which rolled two large glass syringes and cotton.


    "Welcome," she stopped in front of the cell door. The guard unlocked and pushed it open, "This is the cell of Doctor Christian Maltais, a virologist. He is a deranged psychopath who once tried to exterminate mankind." A man was tied to the cheap bed. "In 2032, he designed and failed to release a mutated version of the Black Plague. Most of you are familiar with this story; the television series was rather popular 15 years ago. Since that time, he has been locked away."


    Christian was tied face-up on his bed. The man was overly excited, but hard on his mouthguard. He was trying in vain to break the restraints or simply to appear less tournented. One of the two guards barked at him to stay still. He barely did. Maltais looked at the nurse and yelled something muffled. Marilyn did not care. She lifted the tip of a syringe, clicked a nail against the glass to push bubbles of air up and ejected some of the fluid. She liked to play this level of drama and crazy.


    She wasn''t gentle as she administered the first shot.


    "For reasons that escape me, President Sanchez picked this," she pointed at the bed, "... person, to get on a rocket and fly to mercury to rescue about 100 stranded Mercurians. Although I may not fully understand why President chose this man, I still feel his selection is in humanity''s best interest. This fruit basket is no idiot, I grant you that, but wasn''t part of my top 99.99% to carry out this delicate mission. Yet here we are. What I can say is this: most minds I can easily understand, allowing me to extrapolate future behavior. Dr. Maltais here is impossible for me to predict. Somewhere I think that''s the main reason President Sanchez picked him."


    Christian looked at her. He foamed at the corner of his mouth under the gag. He mumbled something in vain. It had to be sexual harassment of some variety. She bent down and unclipped the buckle behind his neck. He spat the guard, looked at her and said: "Its buy one get two free windows at Feldco."


    "See?" Marilyn looked at the audience. "He is completely unpredictable."


    The camera changed to a different place. Marilyn now wore a sexy cocktail waitress outfit. She was in the large boardroom of the Visconti. Around the table sat 12 METAs. The men and women looked like villains from a bad science fiction movie. As she spoke, invisible to the discussion taking place before her, she slowly made her way to the Chairman of Blackberry. He sat at the head of the table. "To make matters worse, the second most deplorable human on earth is also now on the Io Observer. This man," she pointed to the Chairman, "Nick Schmidbauer. He helped father the META virus, having it altered to remain alive once it had dealt with his deadly cancer. To hide his infection, he infected and killed thousands. He is responsible for most of the discrimination and hatred in our world over the last century and is directly responsible for all the harm surrounding the virus. Calling this man scum would be an insult to scum everywhere. Probably the guy with ticket number 1 to hell, assuming it exists. He convinced these twelve people to build an underground bunker called the Ark. They intended to destroy the earth and its population as they weathered the apocalypse hidden in their Ark. For the sake of full disclosure, with my help, Emilio has already destroyed the Ark. So Nick," she pointed at the bald head, "and the Jester are the two passengers making their way to mercury. Blame Emilio for that one."


    ***


    In the blink of an eye, Marilyn was now floating inside the Io Observer. She was wearing a tight, sexy red outfit. "These men are today''s playing characters. If you recall in recent news," the video played in a corner, "the Jester borrowed the body of a Siamese prostitute and kidnapped the Chairman. Emilio punched their ticket and let them board alone in this ship on route to mercury. You heard me right; our President is trusting those two guys with humanity''s future." On the screen, the men were as she last left them. Christian was assembling the hundred small rockets in direct view of his tied captive.


    "The game will have a unique format this week. The mission is simple: each of the remaining players, starting from the lowest in the ranking, that is number 32, up to Emilio himself, who is ranked number 1, will embody Christian Maltais, aka the Jester. If for some reason Nick takes control of the mission, the player will continue as Nick. In the back of this vessel are one hundred globes, Mission Control will guide you. Once the rockets are built, the players must eject from this ship and land on mercury. Once there, players must make their way to the Fuller Crater in this system''s most hostile environment. Find a way to communicate with the Mercurians and get them safely into these balls. Finally, using individual rocket shells," she pointed to one floating nearby, "you will use a launcher and send these creatures to protect earth. By doing so, Emilio takes custody of these creatures, forcing my belligerent neighbors to back down on their threat to attack mankind. At least that''s the plan. Time is very short since the rockets can''t travel nearly as fast as the Io Lab. A second ship is being prepared to reach the balls halfway into the return." With her usual skill, she illustrated the trip.


    "You and I will be happy to learn this is a one way trip to both these men. Now here is the beauty of my simulation. Normally each of the 32 remaining players would run their own simulation in parallel and without any knowledge of what the others are doing. This time each player will watch the other players ahead of them in a queue. They will launch their games after having learned from the mistakes of the others before. They are free to improvise, they do not need to copy the previous story, but I strongly suggest we generate one feed only, this will become obvious why a bit later. Don''t forget, points given for humor and character respect.¡±


    She disappeared from the ship.


    Large white letters glowed in the middle of the screen.


    Player Ranked #32


    Marcus Fontaine


    The song "Hotel California," in its original version, wafted over the Io Lab''s sound system. Classics were truly timeless. The piano notes bounced in the small spaceship the same way sound improved in the confined environment of a shower. Both of the passengers of fortune enjoyed the music. The images were now part of the digital simulation and Marilyn, not the real Chairman, had picked the music. But this reality was truly indistinguishable from reality. She knew Nick''s selection preferences and could vouch, with a high degree of certainty, his choiceswould be the same unless he was now watching the simulation.


    By now it became apparent sound and music were vital to the Sixth Attraction. Music made their minds swell with emotions which released waves. The Electoral 2072 game was one giant acoustic chamber where humans acted as the instruments of a symphony conducted by the Computer. In the past, people prayed in unison. Later, as humanity moved away from theology, they began brainlessly cheering for the home football team. Today, the same energy was now targeted at the Electoral players; two in particular.


    Round 28 would be different than the all 27 played before in one important way. Marilyn was serious about using the game to change odds of a desirable outcome. This particular round would have immediate real-world consequences and would be served-up as solemnly as possible, given the imminent death of two men aboard the Lab. The Jester was bat-shit crazy and suicidal, that was undeniable. That assumed Christian would not ignore the guidance as Sophie just had.


    He would not, Marilyn was sure about that.


    The Io Observer, also called the Io Lab, was now mere hours away from Mercury. Even at this high velocity, the crescent of light formed by the planet still seemed small. Ahead, the shaded portion of the planet wasn''t black; it was grey. A hundred meters around the edges, the massive sun created a ring of light.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    So close to the sun, even eyes closed, energetic photons above 12 MeV exited the retinas. In this hell, there was no true darkness. One by one, the cracks of craters in the dark side of mercury began to appear. On each screen, Marilyn lent perspective to the distance using a colorful animation. She was a master at her craft. Marilyn was serving a meal of heat, danger and cold space drank with mental disease. There were videos, explanations but nothing really mattered.


    A loud chime temporarily interrupted the Eagles'' classic. "Drugs! Again! My last shot," said the Jester as he let two pieces plastic float in the microgravity. Christian went to the closest wall, slid his hand up to his forearm into a hole in the wall and cringed. The hole was surrounded by red crosses to remind the user this was a medical emergency port only. Christian was a walking emergency. Once the tip of his fingers reached the back of the opening, he paused, grabbed and squeezed the handle. As he applied pressure, the machine read his palm and stung him releasing morphine.


    "Please hold," said a kind automated voice after the injunction.


    The Jester waited and then turned to look directly at a camera, "Hi, or should I say ''high'' there, random people down on earth. I mention height because I happen to be high as a fucking kite right now. I haven''t slept for days, and they''re using drugs to help keep me awake. Nothing beats synthetic opioids. You have to love governments. When they need something, it''s legal. When they don''t, it''s a crime if it''s any fun to do."


    The Jester floated back to the end portion of the Lab where the pieces waited. He needed to complete his work. The printer finally produced the last part. He clicked off the round stem created by the machine. He snapped the two pieces of casing together and formed the one-hundredth rocket. Using gloves to avoid touching the alien creature floating in the ball, he slid it inside the tube locking it in place. Inside the globe, Marilyn''s plastic skirt danced in the twisting red sand. He swore he saw the bobble-figure wink.


    The Jester had also printed and assembled ten launch magazines, each designed to hold rockets. He would only need ten reloads on the surface to send one-hundred rockets and aliens back to earth. Christian waved his hand, slapped himself and finally slipped the last rocket into the magazine. ¡°Done, cooked, over!¡± He was barely coherent. In each ball, powder danced around the figurine of Marilyn.


    At the moment the ship was a mess. A hundred shipping boxes torn to pieces floated as debris alongside defective pieces from the three-dimensional printer. Christian had also seen to it that hundreds of pistachio shells and empty chip bags polluted the space. Of all the snacks he could have picked to go on this suicide trip, he found pistachio nuts to be the most amusing. The choice drove Ground Control absolutely crazy. He''d made a point of refusing peeled nuts. He just wanted to be the first man to clutter a spaceship intentionally. With some luck, the clutter might short circuit something and kill him prematurely.


    A voice lost in the invisible walls said finally, "Mr. Maltais, we have begun pre-approach stages. You must launch the second static probe in five minutes at most."


    "Yes, Mother!" Christian pushed off and floated past the rockets in the direction of his captive. Once next to him, he reached out and pinched both of his cheeks.


    "No kissing on the first date," said Nick sarcastically. The man was still well tied to his chair. He was exhausted, and his delicate META body bore bruises in multiple places.


    "Love the music selection, great choices."


    "It''s old and stale, just like you." The words made the Jester smile. "Easy to find, it was indexed under ''Ridiculous Mullet Collection.''¡± The Chairman''s snake tongue was a needed jolt for the space tourist. The Jester chuckled. Christian pushed away and flew back to the front of the ship like a swimmer pushes off the end of a pool. Once at the tip of the Observer he looked at the golden heat shield deployed through a small rounded window on the door used to send the probe. Outside, the crab legs of the ship, like fingers had opened and the center knitted mesh had tightened giving him more shade.


    "Sir," said the earth voice, "we suggest a launch of the probe in four minutes."


    "I got you, I got youuuuuu. That''s plenty!" He had time for one last coffee. Christian pulled a square panel using two large handles until the magnets gave up. He then let the door float free in the room. The plastic pouch was containing dark liquid looked like pouch containing the darkest pint of blood. He bit off the tip of the straw. "This is no way to drink Colombian."


    "Try putting Colombian cocaine in it," said Nick from a distance. "Seventy milligrams. You''ll love it. I am sure they have some on this ship. It¡¯s designed for actors and you know how they are." Both men knew the dosage was a lethal dose. The audience back on earth loved these men. This odd couple was unpredictable, crude, and extremely colorful to watch. They made for outstanding television. Keeping focus on the end of the world was nearly impossible.


    Having sucked every drop from the bag, Christian grabbed a rounded metal probe the size of a large bowling ball. It was heavy; even in zero-g, it was pushed only with difficulty. With the careful guidance of Mission Command, the Jester connected it inside the hatch. As the countdown hit zero, he locked the door, and the ball was ejected toward Mercury along with a small detachable thruster. It quickly passed the golden heat shield, and the ball began to shrink as it grew distant revealing mercury behind it.


    Command spoke, "The probes and the jettisoned Lab will reach mercury a minute before your last correction of the generator. That will be enough time for lightning from mercury to strike the probes. We expect the first arc to happen about three thousand meters from the planet in the vacuum of space. Sir, time is short, you must begin the deceleration. Please make your way to the landing module. We need all the time we can." Christian loved being called sir.


    "Got it, Johnny." Everyone knew the name was made up. The Jester pushed back and floated past Nick. As he did, he blew another kiss his way. Attached to his belt was a rope connected to the different parts he''d need for assembly of the launcher once on the planet. Christian opened the hatch to the landing module now in the back, away from the sun. Once in, he grabbed and slipped on a thick space suit, keeping the helmet and the gloves nearby.


    "Secure the pieces, the rockets and the launcher as shown on this image," said the voice on the speakers. He had the rockets in tow and secured them to a rack next to the hatch.


    "What? You want me to use duck tape to fucking strap this shit to the inside of the door made of metal? Twelve strips of tape.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± he opened a drawer and grabbed the grey roll. ¡°I need to use my teeth to rip each piece of duck?" The tone was sarcastic and the man¡¯s teeth were in no condition to help.


    "Need help? Why don''t you untie me? I can use a knife and stand there next to you to cut the tape. Trust me; I won''t stab you in the neck, twist the blade, and bathe in your blood," Nick said in a perfectly deadpan voice. The Chairman, if nothing else, was an excellent travel companion.


    Christian began to rip the strips; being buzzed from the opioids helped speed things up. The instructions on the screen were simple. "Nick, darling," he yelled in the air as he worked.


    "Not sure why I am playing along here."


    "Agreed. It''s hard to believe we''re moving at about a million miles per hour. It''s a fraction of relativistic speeds. We are actually now aging slower than people on earth. You know I will soon vaporize your pale ass on mercury. Be ready to be a puff of smoke. I hope it hurts."


    "And you will burn or freeze on the surface. Still unclear on why you brought me along. There has to be a reason."


    "Not really."


    "I''ll keep a plate warm for your dinner in hell."


    Once done with the taping, the Jester turned a heavy bolt and closed the door shut behind him. To Nick, it was the sound of death. The room inside the lander was larger than a garden-variety lander. There were cameras at all angles, and the cockpit was designed to offer the viewers some quality television. Five people could stand between the two pilot chairs. Christian sat. Above, he could see earth shining in the sky. The blue gem sparkled.


    "This silence is creeping me out, can I get the music back?" The Jester queried. Immediately, the music resumed. The Jester knew the song from five years ago; the piece was titled ''Crushing Blow.'' A judicious choice by his captive. The Jester shifted his focus; he knew he would need to improvise once he landed on mercury.


    Mission Control chose that moment to speak up. "Summary of your mission. Unlock the module, slow down, calibrate static values. Land on mercury. Find the Mercurians and get them in rockets. Assemble the launcher and shoot the 100 rockets our way. Save earth. Die," he concluded.


    The Jester realized the mission was pure folly. So many things could and would go wrong. "You know just how ridiculous this sounds, right?" The voice and visage of Marilyn appeared on every screen in the lander. "Charrue?" She knew his pet name. Few friends had ever called him by that name, and today most of them were dead. He promised, he had nothing to do with their demise.


    "Yes. What a pleasure to see you. Are you on mars right now?"


    "Let me put you at ease. Your mission''s overall chances of success have recently greatly improved benefit to the God Bias. As we near the Sixth Attraction, the value increases. In three days the value doubled. We are now at well over 0.9%."


    "Not even one percent; that¡¯s nothing."


    "While a brilliant human, you are sadly not intelligent enough to understand what that means."


    "Are you insulting me?"


    "Why not? Let me dumb it down for you. One-hundred capsules need to be fired back to earth. Since the bias is close to 1%, even if your guidance system goes down and you shoot randomly into the sky, in all likelihood, one of the rockets will reach earth. That''s all we need - one creature. These idiots from the Valles will hesitate to kill your species even with a single surviving creature. They place a very high value on these monsters. You will also bounce a lot, about a hundred bounces. The Bias will help set the right random determination. A bias like this does, in fact, remove about half of the uncertainty of the overall mission."


    "What about the other half?" asked Christian.


    "I have that covered thanks to my game, remember." Marilyn was, as part of her game, talking to a player about running a scenario. This was normally a no-no. "Just do your best." As quickly as she''d made her appearance, she was gone. The music resumed.


    Christian slipped the roll of tape around his right wrist, grabbed both gloves in that hand and positioned himself in the pilot''s seat. He locked both seat belts down. Up above, Earth smiled. "Ground, let''s do this. Nick, it''s been a pleasure. See you down below. Way, way down below." The lights in the lander turned red.


    "Do you want to know what''s next?" asked Command.


    "Enlighten me."


    "You are at the back tip of the Lab. To land, you need to slow down. Not a little, a lot. We will ignite heavy thrusters, empty them and push you away from the main Lab as fast as we can without killing you. We know the kick will knock you out. Humans can take up to ten G''s of positive pressure; twelve at best with blood-thinning medication. We have added thinners in your shots, so we think you should stay awake up to fourteen G''s. Unfortunately, we need to decelerate you for more than twenty G''s. We know you will pass out. Here is the problem: only once the deceleration has begun can you push the red switch above." A button blinked. "The red blinking switch must be hit after the start of the deceleration and before. The blood will leave your brain and you pass out. You have seconds if not only one or two."


    "The switch that reads ''do not touch''?" he pointed at it. It was located under a glass cube, and a pin prevented any possible mistake.


    "Precisely. Open the plastic protector, remove the pin. Nice, now wait and push it. Don''t hesitate; you will have one or two seconds before your brain makes you pass out."


    "This sounds dangerous."


    "It is. One more thing.¡±


    ¡°What? There is more? Sounds rather simple.¡±


    ¡°Wait until you feel the separation kick. We will decouple your landing module from the Lab. Remember, you have a second at most before passing out. In that short interval, you need to flip that switch which starts the static generators or..."


    "What is a static generator..." Before the voice could respond, there was a kick stronger than being shot out of a catapult. His weight was multiplied by twelve. The body was being crushed against the back of the seat like having an elephant sit on every part of his body. The clanking push was followed by the ignition of the heavy thruster. Christian got slammed in his seat."God! Seriously?" he gasped. The push was insanity, nothing like what he had ever felt before.


    "It will get worse, must worse," yelled the voice over the deafening noise, "engage the static generator now, the red switch!" Christian was nervous he raised his hand up. The Jester wondered what a static generator did. "Hit it!" The voice yelled. The music was gone, he was sitting on a rocket and nothing else mattered.


    Christian¡¯s hand slowly raised, it was shaking. Then with a willpower only few could muster, he pushed the button. The red switch stopped blinking. At the same time, every other switch in the ship began to flash. Something below the belly of the lander started to emanate a buzzing noise. It was not comforting.


    Viewers wondered, as Christian did, what was happening. Since this was Round 28 of the Electoral 2072 competition and not real life, Marilyn felt obligated to interrupt and explain. She smoothly altered the flow of time in her broadcast, the images still moving, albeit glacially. The agonized look on the Jester''s face was particularly poignant, with fear and g-force induced agony flooding through him. "Few people understand static energy. Static energy is floating energy, electrons which exist in everything. On earth, electricians use the ground, a third line, to connect things in your house and prevent your lamp and your dishwasher from ever having a different level of static energy. When two things are at different static levels, energy starts jumping from one to the next to find equilibrium. That results in lightning strikes, sparks, and explosions." On the screen was a helpful tutorial using balloons.


    She continued, "Who wants your television to start having issues with the lamp standing next to it? If you have static issues, energy, like air pressure on earth, flows from high potential to low. In space, static energy is important. Bodies float in a vacuum, isolated. With time, a body can become charged, and when something with a lower energy level approaches, lightning jumps from the highly charged body, causing people on things like spaceships to explode. To land this ship, the main body of the lander has to be at the same level of energy as Mercury. Problem is, we really ignore how much static is on mercury at this time. If static equilibrium hasn''t been established, deadly lightning bolts will start jumping from the ground to the lander, igniting the fuel. No one truly knows the potential energy of mercury. That rock is so close to the sun that energy arrives in waves and stores in its metal core, and this value can change quickly. Every hundred thousand years, the planet gets so energetic that it vaporizes the first poor asteroid who gets close to the surface. The Martian ship was destroyed because they ignored this simple effect."


    Down on earth, the viewers were learning about one of the principal problems of space exploration. "As you saw, Mr. Maltais send two rounded metal probe ahead of the ship and the main body. At that speed, the probes will arrive only a second or less before the main piece of the Lab. Both these bodies will crash and vaporize on the surface. At the moment, the Jester and my globes will decelerate inside the landing module and use the static generator to calibrate the energy. This should avoid forming deadly energy jolts which will blow up the ship before it reaches the surface."


    The part of the broadcast designed to teach ended and the flow of time resumed to normal within the simulation. When Christian had hit the red button, the static generator kicked in. It began to pulse and create energy. In the capsule, every button had started to blink. The software installed aboard the Lab was trying to remain active and operational. That was virtually impossible. The generator was creating electrons at an insane rate and pouring them onto the metal frame of the landing pod. The entire electrical and computer system was rebooting endlessly. Screens were blinking. The static generator was dangerous, it was charging the ship. That was why the generator had to be manually operated.


    Christian''s eyes were barely open. He saw small electrical arcs begin to bounce around the cabin. In his fading vision, he noticed his hands were still uncovered by the gloves. He''d forgotten to insulate his suit and ground himself. Mercifully, he passed out. As he did, the viewers saw energy jump from the seat to his bare fingers. Hundreds of small discharges were jolting Christian every second. The energy increased, and so did the shocks. The Jester''s body convulsed. Within seconds, Christian''s heart stopped beating.


    In the center of the screen appeared:


    Mission Failed


    Lives Remaining: 31

 Chapter 111: Static

    After the explosions, immediately, the next simulation began. Time returned as If the first simulation had never happened. To viewers and the players, the entire scenario reset. Thanks to Marilyn¡¯s montage, viewers saw the identical scene which had played at the start of the first player¡¯s simulation. A second player was up at bat.


    Player Ranked #31


    The song "Hotel California" by The Eagles played once more. The piano notes bounced in the small rounded spaceship. The Io Observer was an hour away from mercury. A new player was in charge of controlling the Jester.Marilyn''s editing was fantastic. She edited the redundant portions to perfection. Christian grabbed the handle in the hole of the wall, and the machine stung him. "I am high as a kite right now. I haven''t slept for more than three days, and they are helping to keep me awake with drugs." The Jester completed his work and clipped the two pieces of the casing for the one-hundredth rocket around the last ball. Ten magazines containing ten rockets apiece floated amongst the other drifting detritus. The viewers were back in time when the capsule was still a mess.


    A voice said from a distance: "Mr. Maltais, we have begun pre-approach stages. You must launch the static probe in five minutes at most." This time Christian was being played by a different finalist. The player knew what to do. Christian floated past the rockets to his captive and pinched both of his cheeks.


    "No kissing on the first date," said Nick sarcastically.


    "Love the music, great choices."


    "It''s old and stale, just like you. Easy to find too, it was indexed under ''Ridiculous Mullet Collection.''" This time, Marilyn strategically jumped over some scenes to speed time up. Christian, played by the second player grabbed the static round probe. As ordered, as the countdown hit zero, he locked the door, and the ball was ejected on a thruster forward in the direction of mercury. This time he avoided the coffee. The static probe launched ahead and passed the opening of all layers of the heat shield.


    "We expect the first arc to hit about three thousand meters from the surface. Time is short; you must begin the deceleration. Please make your way to the landing module." Christian passed Nick and blew a kiss his way. He opened the door to the landing module. He dressed in the suit, but having watched the first player electrocute himself to death for want of gloves, kept the helmet and gloves close.


    "Ready?" asked Mission Command.


    "Wait," said the Jester as he slipped on both gloves and locked his helmet onto the suit. The man knew that without them he would die. He was nervous.


    "Engage the blinking red switch once the acceleration begins. Don''t hesitate; you will have one or two seconds before your brain passes out."


    "The sign says not to engage that switch."


    "Wait until you feel the separation kick. You have seconds before passing out. You need to start the static generators or the arcs will destroy the lander."


    There was a kick equal to being shot out of a catapult.


    "Engage the generator now," said the voice with a second of delay. The tone was forceful. Christian was pinned to his seat by the massive g-forces and unable to raise his hand. "You will die if you do not hit the switch now." His vision blurred. He raised his hand, touched the button. He was unable to talk. Back at the Electoral Center on Mars, nervous glances alternated between the scene unfolding in the game and the motionless form of the player in the Rho chamber. The static generator kicked in. It started whizzing. Every button began to blink. A generator was creating electrons at an insane rate and pouring onto the metal frame of the landing pod. The entire electrical and computer system was rebooting endlessly. Christian''s eyes were barely open. He saw small electrical arches bounce around the cabin. This time his hands were covered, and the suit was insulated. He closed his eyes. The Jester''s vision narrowed, darkened, and he blacked out.


    The moment at which the first simulation ended came and went. Electoral''s existence and purpose couldn''t be easily quantified, but in this task, she excelled: she helped mankind become a whole that was greater than the sum of its parts.


    The static energy was deadly. The computer software, designed for a much less extreme landing on Io, fought desperately for coherence in the midst of the lethal storm of electrons inside the cabin. In the digital chaos, the lander''s computers began sending intermittent, garbled signals to different portions of the ship. One such order was sent to a window; it unsealed. The world watched in horror as the round glass and metal rim ejected out into the nothingness of our solar system. Vacuum immediately filled the ship as the air rushed out the window.


    To wake Christian up, Mission Command forced every light and every speaker in the cabin into alarm mode. Nothing seemed to work. The probe, in the distance, drew closer to the planet. Finally, the lights woke the Jester. The man in the suit opened his eyes. Christian saw from his seat the other four windows freeze in the vacuum. He did not know where to start the heater. In his terror at his impending death, for the simulation felt real in all ways, he neglected to check the most obvious place. He was sitting on it. The suit lost power, and the screen went dark. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Mission Failed


    Lives Remaining: 30


    Electoral knew she had to continue on with her broadcast. Without a single second of pause she began the next simulation.


    Player Ranked #30


    The same scene played a third time. Marilyn quickly sped through the common portions to reach to the critical portions where the Jester''s decisions would either bear fruit or disaster. Playing these simulations sequentially, at human speed, helped many people understand how her power worked. Christian returned to the lander. This time he powered the heating system of his suit and snapped on the gloves and the helmet before he began the deceleration or the static generator.


    This time, unlike the last simulation, the window did not eject. Instead, the image shifted to a view from space. The lander silently disintegrated in a brief flash of light. To the audience, Marilyn spoke, "Static electricity may interfere with multiple systems at this rate of charge. The generator has a 2% chance of creating an arc of static that reaches the fuel of the thrusters. If that happens, the fuel will ignite. I hope this doesn''t occur again either in the remaining simulations or the actual mission, but if there''s an internal short of that variety, this will happen. Disappointing on a number of levels, no?" she joked half-heartedly.


    The image shifted to a view from space. The lander exploded in silence.


    Mission Failed


    Lives Remaining: 29


    Player Ranked #29


    Marilyn had made her point with the first three simulations: the mercury mission was more than dangerous. The next player assembled the launcher, kissed Nick from a distance and put on the full suit, including the gloves and the helmet. Once in the locked lander, the fourth player of the round powered-on everything he could. He was ready for the worst. His forehead was forming pearls of sweat. The cold air helped avoid fog in the rounded helmet visor.


    He pushed away from the Lab and pushed the red static generator switch. This time, the capsule did not explode.


    Marilyn, to aid the coming simulations, felt she needed to show to the viewers and the players a view of the decoupling and landing dynamics. On the screens, she illustrated the sun, mercury, and the path of the Io Observer. There were now three bodies, one a fraction of a pixel ahead of the Lab; that was the static probe. In tow was the Lab. Both were on a crash destination with the gray God of War. The pieces and their orbits were then illustrated using red lines. The speed of the first two was such that the two bodies left a streak of light as they carved the distant ionosphere of the sun and cut the plasma-heated wind.


    Behind the Lab, the lander was slowly distancing itself. Its trajectory was curved to allow the speck of light to escape direct impact and become fixed in low orbit. The line showed the lander pass about a hundred feet from the surface. At that speed, even in a quasi-absent atmosphere, there would be fire and turbulence. As shown, the lander would pass mercury and return minutes later as it began to orbit closer and closer to the surface.


    The viewers returned to the inside of the lander. The Jester slowly regained consciousness under an avalanche of sound and noise in the capsule. "Please wake up!!" The sounds finally worked. The lander was approaching the planet, and the generator was still on. Christian hit the switch and one by one the systems returned.


    Marilyn showed how the static probe, with the Lab in its shadow, drew closer until in the blink of an eye it was hit by a kilometer-long arc erupting from mercury. There was so much stored energy on the rock; the strike was deep blue. It was a highway of highly energetic electrons. As it rose from the ground, it split into a hundred legs joined like the roots of a tree. The bolt vaporized the probe in one-seventh of a second. It then jumped on the tip of the Lab, converting it to free-floating atoms. Marilyn did not show Nick''s death. There was no point, and decency did not oblige it. Numbers were being sent to the lander.


    The computers in the lander received the information. "The value is too high," said Mission Command. They didn''t like the value returned by the static probe. "Your ship is at 3,052 Terravolts. We need to be closer to 6,000, not three. There is no time." Robert, who played Christian was no beginner at desperate situations. Every Round in the game was an avalanche of life or death events until the player missed one. He was better than two billion players at this.


    "Can''t you correct the trajectory? Can''t we intercept mercury further down the orbit, that will give us time." Before he even finished speaking, a visible white rocket lit up near the tip at an angle to the side.


    "Correcting. Sir, wait nine seconds for the correction then light the static generator again. At six thousand, shut it down and contact us. Good luck." Christian looked at his suit; it remained operable and closed. He counted. The stars moved position as the Jester powered the generator. This was too much; the player felt dizzy. The Rho chambers were spectacular. He felt like he was on board the lander. He was in microgravity, pushed by a first thruster, electrocuted by static energy.


    He knew the feeling. He needed to do something. He looked at his glove, the metal on the glove locking mechanism was covered by a layer of coating -- a paint or a surface finish. He needed energy to come in. The ship was building potential energy, and he was partly insulated. Like flint is sparked, Christian hit both metal rings on his wrists. He needed to damage the coating. After five tries, he saw an angle on the ring. He extended his arm and let it touch the base of his seat between his legs. There were sparks; electricity was pouring in and burning his wrist. His neck was twitching. He did not know if he could pull it way. But the flow of energy was greater than what was being produced by the generators, and a minute later, the shocks stopped.


    He puked in the suit as he pulled the hand up. The dial reached six thousand; it turned off. The systems returned slowly.


    Finally, the voice spoke, "Landing in nine, eight," the countdown took the Jester by surprise. They were still fast, very fast. Thrusters lit up. They were breaking the capsule down. Christian could not see the ground, but he knew he was way too fast.


    They crashed.


    Mission Failed


    Lives Remaining: 28


    The next four players tried to alter the angles of entry, but each crashed on the surface of Mercury. There was no time to decelerate. Marilyn quickly showed the failed attempts.


    Mission Failed


    Lives Remaining 25

 Chapter 112: The Arrests

    Meanwhile


    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± asked Wayne as Marilyn shut down the conversation between the President in Berlin and Ronaldo at the center of the room of the San Francisco Alien Center.


    Ronaldo grabbed the phone, ¡°Could have been worse. At least he believed us.¡±


    ¡°The game will start soon, should we watch it?¡± said a member in the back.


    ¡°I am not going to Berlin,¡± offered a second.


    ¡°Neither am I.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Outside sirens began to fill the air.


    ¡°Not sure anyone here will get to decide,¡± smiled Ronaldo to his group of misfits. ¡°What is going on right now is no joking matter.¡±


    In a matter of minutes, about a hundred police cars had made their way into the parking lot. Cops were coming out guns in hand.


    ¡°I gave a chance to everyone to avoid this.¡±


    ¡°I am personally looking forward to German sausages. I hear they are great,¡± joked Wayne opening the door hands in the air. ¡°Don¡¯t shoot, this is not a cop show.¡±


    The little group went to the airport in a series of limousines.


    ¡°Can someone tell my mom where we are going?¡±


    ¡°The planet knows where we are going, haven¡¯t been watching?¡±


    ¡°Can we watch the game? I hear it¡¯s on mercury, how exciting.¡±


    Ronaldo was sitting, holding the snow globe, phone in pockets.


    The group was given Orbison glasses to watch as the cars zoomed down the highway.

 Chapter 113: Deceleration

    Player Ranked #24


    The song "Hotel California" played. The piano notes bounced in the small rounded spaceship. This was the ninth simulation, and would be different; one of the few remaining female players was in charge. Angela was an alpha-female and would not lose. She planned to wipe away the psychopath even if it kicked her out of the rankings.


    The Io Observer was back at an hour away from Mercury, and as she opened the sharp eyes, she was in charge. Her, she was here speeding to her death.


    Christian, played by Angela, refused to keep the same timeline, she did not force the character to grab a handle to get stung. There was no time. A voice said from the distance: "Pre-approach stages, static probe launch in five minutes."


    "No need," said Christian. He pushed himself forward with both hands away from the back of the ship pointing to Mercury, "No need for the probe, the corrected value is six thousand. Let''s set the generator to that value. Do it Marilyn," spoke the player.


    "Sir, we highly recommend three thousand, that value is based..." began Million Command speaking live.


    "Do I look like I give a hoot?" Angela did not like to swear even in character. She had two children, and as a mom, those words were out of her vocabulary. "Who is in this death tomb? You are not, I am. The President was clear, do as I say." Christian floated with the rockets, did not even talk to Nick and made his way to the module, giving his captive two pinched cheeks. She would land this module even if it meant losing every point given by this game. Christian, played by Angela opened the door to the landing module. He dressed in a fully automated suit and put on the helmet and gloves. He clipped in after powering his suit and taping the gear to the back of the module''s wall.


    "Decouple now, I say, now!" yelled the Jester as soon as he could. Mission Command complied. "I know, the red switch."


    "Wait until you feel the separation kick. You have seconds before passing out. You need to start the static generators or the arcs will destroy the ship."


    "I know, I know, punch it." The player had just save five full minutes of deceleration by cutting she story short.


    There was a kick equal to being shot out of a catapult. Christian was glued to his seat unable to raise his hand. "You will die if you do not hit the switch now." His vision blurred. He raised his hand, touched the button. The generator worked, the value increased until it reached six thousand.


    The computer software was sending signals in intermittence to different portions of the ship. One such order was sent to a window, which unsealed and ejected out. Vacuum filled the ship. To wake Christian up, Mission Command forced every light and every speaker to alarm mode. Nothing seemed to work. Christian finally regained consciousness. "We must slow down, change course if you have to. The angle of landing is too violent."


    The front thrusters went into action.


    "We have planned a 4.2-degree landing. At most we can draw the angle down to 2%, but that will delay us on the surface by half an hour."


    "That''s fine," she said. Angela was not sure what this meant.


    "Hang tight; you are not going to like this old friend,¡± said Patrick Martin in The communication channel. ¡°Good luck.¡±


    This time they had about ten more minutes of deceleration. The angle of arrival was better. The ship missed the surface by about twenty feet and continued away from mercury almost escaping the gravity on the other side. They were shot up on an elliptical orbit. The ship went up away from the planet, and Christian saw the large sun pass ahead of him in the window above. From here, he could see bubbling in the gas. The ship kept decelerating. Then it turned and prepared to come down. The capsule was spinning, turning. Christian had no way to know how fast he was going.


    "Strap in, this will not be easy," said the voice of Mission Command.


    Patrick added,¡± When they say strap, they are not talking bondage.¡± There was kindness and compassion in the military¡¯s voice.


    The player saw the rocks and just replied, ¡°One friend is better than none I guess.¡±


    Marilyn''s broadcast shifted to a view from outside. She illustrated the orbit, the trajectory and then the re-entry. The capsule hit the ground at about two degrees downward. It hit some rocks, ripped the outside structures attached to the outside of the lander and then rolled and bounced two hundred feet before it fell back like a dead garbage can thrown by a city worker. The low gravity was helping. It turned, bounced multiple times before it settled still. In all, the distance covered on the surface of mercury was at least two hundred miles.


    The Jester passed out several times in the capsule. The seat in the capsule was designed by brilliant engineers, today they showed their true power. Christian survived. The pieces of the launcher were still taped to the wall. Dust slowly settled in the capsule and at the point of rest. The capsule looked like it was without life, the power was out.


    Light and energy returned in the Jester''s suit. He was bleeding from the lips and nose.


    Marilyn spoke, "I will now pretend communication with Mission Command will still work to help the player. Please know, I can calculate this assumption is wrong. Christian will have this video game to help him, but from this point forward, even I will not be able to help or communicate with him. Ground control will be silent. The level of energy from the sun here is a blanket on most communications, including mine."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Mister Maltais?" said Mission Command.


    "Yes," answered the voice in the suit.


    "Nice landing, thanks for taking great care of the ship." The engineer did not intend for there to be humor, he meant it. But under the circumstances, the statement was truly hysterical.


    "That''s the smartest you can come up with? God! Put Patrick back on the line." The player knew he was scored based on his capacity to play the psychotic killer. This was the best she could do.


    The voice of the Colonel came on the line a couple of seconds. "Hi gorgeous, you know you need to return the keys to that ship when you are done with it, right?" That got a blood-filled chuckle from within the suit. A smile returned to the face of the man in the suit. It helped the killer unclip, roll to his stomach and push away with both hands from the ground. Patrick spoke again, "Someone just handed me a note, do you want the bad news first or the worse news?"


    The player''s mind was in pieces from the landing. The Rho chamber connected with the person on a much deeper level. Angela was gone, only the Jester remained. "I don¡¯t remember any of this in Emilio¡¯s sales pitch, it was all sunrises and mescal drinks." There was no doubt those were the words Christian would mutter after that accident.


    "Good job Sherlock, you crashed four hundred and nine kilometers away from the Fuller Crater. You know how far that is on a rock this size? You are too far away. You''re done, just shoot yourself, you failed." Everyone down at Mission Command cringed, but these were exactly the words Christian needed to hear.


    "Now I know why the President likes you." Coming from a killer, those were kind words. "If these buggers want out of this rock, let''s hope they find me. Let''s set this up. What''s worse than the distance?"


    "You landed on the right side of that rock. So you will die of cold in about two hours. You only have the energy left of your suit. So don''t waste your time saving these creatures or us. You destroyed mankind, that''s what you wanted, right?"


    Christian was being played by an expert player of the game. Angela was brilliant. She was looking around himself for ways to salvage the situation. "You geniuses out there, anything I can do to get to that crater? There has to be power left in this ship."


    "We have thousands of people working on it."


    The Jester stood up in the ship. He removed the taped pieces and turned the door hatch to open it. The ship was upside down, and he had to crawl at an angle. Outside was night, as much as it was possible this close to the Sun. Once outside, he used a flashlight to inspect the multiple structures attached to the lander. Most of them were crushed or had been ripped out.


    "Ground?"


    "Yes?"


    "Can we eject one or more of these before the crash?"


    "Yes, why do you ask?" The player did not care anymore.


    "If we ejected one, could we calculate where the bounce upon landing would have been? Can we find what piece to eject so the capsule would have crashed closer to the Fuller crater? Assume we could do this over again in five minutes." Angela was no longer playing the game; she did not care about the story. She was just helping the next player.


    Patrick''s voice replied, "People here say this type of calculation is impossible. There are too many variables. Even the best calculators could not do it."


    Angela no longer cared, her gloves were off. "Ask Marilyn." There was a long silence. "She is powerful enough to calculate this."


    After a very long silence, Patrick replied simply, "I will." Finally, his voice returned, "She gave us a suggestion. She said removing the walking pad; those stairs would be helpful."


    "Great." The Jester crawled back in the ship and began to pull the several sections of the launcher out of the lander. This was no easy task.


    "What are you doing?"


    "Milking this for all it''s worth. We are past scoring point. I want this to work in real life."


    "This is real life, what are you talking about?"


    "Whatever." Angela, playing the Jester, pulled all of the pieces of the rocket one by one, brought them outside and began to assemble them in the darkness. "Can you play Hotel California, it will remind me of the now vaporized ghost." The music began in the helmet. Once all the pieces were outside and ready, Christian tested the handheld launch controller. He clipped in one of the rockets and fired it randomly into the sky. It blasted away like a firework on the 4th of July. He fired the second ten seconds later, then a third another ten seconds later. The metal began to heat as each rockets fired. "This works."


    "Can you describe the launcher? People here don''t want it to overheat. You can''t shoot these too fast. You must wait a minute at least between two launches."


    The Jester fired the fourth rocket. "The casing appears red. It must be hot."


    "We need to control overheat. A rocket slid into the launcher, if too warm will explode. We know the pieces of metal at three hundred and sixty degrees will appear between red and orange."


    "Want me to wait?"


    "Yes. You went too fast, and people here wonder how the fourth rocket already did not blow up when you slid it in. Not sure why you fired it. It''s empty and pointing at nothing."


    "We need to cool it?"


    "Where you are its minus one hundred and something outside. Trust me; the ambient environment is cooling it. We just need to know how fast we can send these rockets up. Can you time that?"


    The Jester waited. After two minutes he tried the fifth rocket. It worked.


    "Trying 110 seconds between launches."


    "For the love of God Charrue," yelled Patrick, "what the fuck are you doing? You make no sense. Why are you wasting the rockets? Wait for the aliens." Marilyn, unlike the player, wasn''t willing to stop the masquerade of her game.


    "Trying now at 100 seconds between two rockets." It launched.


    "Stop."


    "Trying 90 seconds."


    "Trying 80 seconds."


    "Trying 70 seconds."


    At that point, there was a giant explosion on the surface of mercury. Angela was shot up two hundred feet and landed on the rocks breaking her back. Her body was on the ground; her suit was ripped. The cold was killing her. There was so much pain; she began to yell.


    Marilyn walked out. She was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and t-shirt. "I am not sure why you insist on making a mockery of my game. All this was uncalled for. I kept it going out of respect for your trip to mars. You have been disqualified."


    "But..." she spoke blood bubbling on the corner of her mouth.


    People easily forgot Marilyn was a woman and temperamental. "Emilio would have gotten the same result without turning my game into a fucking circus. Enjoy the next 45 minutes of pain as your extremities slowly turn to ice pops. Hurt!" The camera panned out. Marilyn accelerated the sunrise over the crater to make sure she both burnt and froze to death the screaming player who burned in the suit. The woman wasn¡¯t joking.


    Mission Failed


    Lives Remaining: 23

 Chapter 114: Tantrum

    After the break, the next simulations resumed as if Angela had not played. She had cheated taking the value of the static charge from the future. There was a little shift in the colors, as if something deep with it the computer system was off. Each time, the first portion of the simulation in the Lab was accelerated until the crash landing. The next three players had little success and each lander bounced like a garbage can thrown by New York employee.


    Mission Failed


    Lives Remaining: 22


    Mission Failed


    Lives Remaining: 21


    Mission Failed


    Lives Remaining: 20


    Before the player ranked #20 took the stage, there was a pause. On each screen, Marilyn appeared standing on the surface of mercury next to a fuming pile of debris with a rocket launcher assembled. At her feet was the frozen, burnt dead body of Angela.


    Behind her, in the distances were three plumes of white smoke of the last players. These were the unsuccessful landings of the last. This time she was wearing a simple dress and was immuned from the cold, the darkness or even the lack of atmosphere. She walked slowly and kicked a rock at her feet. It rose slowly under the low gravity and curves silently.


    "To a computer like myself, I have been pondering Angela¡¯s disqualification,¡± she pointed at her husk. ¡°While clearly outside the rules and within my power to disqualify her,¡± she paused. Saying what came next required effort, ¡°she violated multiple rules, but greatly increased the chances of success of the real mission. Those chances were at best 54% before her game began and now have increased to well over 62%. I do not sanction playing in an alternate reality but she wanted to help. We should keep in mind that our goal is to save mankind. Therefore we must tolerate such deviations as we travel to the Sixth Attraction. I have informed the twenty remaining players that they may use Angela''s discoveries and more importantly they can build on them. The game resumes and the remaining players do as they wish.¡±


    ¡°Frankly speaking, we both this the player¡¯s games are foreplay to Emilio and Laurent¡¯s games. Wait until you see what happens when Sophie¡¯s father plays. She extended an arm to the burn cadaver at her feet, it grabbed her hand making everyone jump on their feet.


    Player Ranked #20


    "Mission Command," asked the new Jester floating in the junk of the printed pieces.This was the sixteenth time the scenario reloaded from the start. Christian have completed the initial formalities.


    "Yes?"


    "Can we boost our static energy level is greater than mercury, I mean when we arrive, what would that do?¡±


    "The flow would be reversed. Maybe a couple of meters away from the ground, a lightening bold will shoot out from the ship and hit a metal-filled meteoroid on the surface of Mercury. But really the ship is so small when compared with a planet."


    "Any negative side effects?"


    "You would have any fuel to blow up, if you care about that. Short-circuits at most," said the engineer to his team.


    "Great, set the value of the generator to six thousand instead of three. I fear at the speed we are coming in, we will not be able to correct if we undershoot the value, trust me." The player tried to get the scenario back to some type of reality. "Give me a breakdown of the different pieces we can eject on the lander to change its density, inertia and weight." The Jester grabbed the pieces of the rocket launcher, floated past his passenger and blew him a kiss. "Great music."


    Christian slipped on the suit and taped the pieces to the back of the locked door. He looked up, there was earth. The player tried unsuccessfully to ignore the view. "What are the pieces?" Ground Control listed about a dozen of pieces, each attached one way or another to the outside shell of the landing module. "Let me guess," said ironically the Jester, "there is one module I will need to manually unbolt?"


    "Negative, they either can be jettisoned from your command post or it is permanently attached."


    "Let''s assume the way we have the lander, we end up 400 kilometers from the Fuller Crater."


    "In which direction?" The player refused to ask Marilyn.


    "On the dark side, does that help?"


    "It does. The Crater is North." The player was wondering what to do. He wanted to score points but also maintain the streamline. "Can we eject these pieces to direct the craft, would that help steer us?"


    "Not really. I wish we could help more."


    ¡°Let¡¯s rock.¡± The player looked at the list of pieces, selected them all and just said: "Let''s make it simple for the next."


    The rest was as expected. The static generator worked. The lateral thrusters worked and after ejecting the pieces, the lander crashed, bounced and stabilized six hundred and fourth kilometers off SSW of the crater.


    Mission Failed


    Lives Remaining: 19


    This time the player ejected all but the last two pieces. The lander crashed, bounced and stabilized four hundred kilometers off SW of the crater.


    Mission Failed


    Lives Remaining: 18


    Mission Failed


    Lives Remaining: 17


    Mission Failed


    Lives Remaining: 16


    Player Ranked #16


    The last three players selected a combination of different pieces attached to the outside shell of the lander to eject in an effort to land closer to the Fuller crater. The same simulation unfolded up to the landing. Each time the craft bounced in different directions. Mathilda, playing the Jester secured herself in the capsule and asked, "Mission Command, how close must we be from the Fuller Crater for us to walk the distance."


    "At best you have nine hours of air in the suit. Dragging the equipment, you move at 1500 meters an hour. You need an hour to launch the capsules, so at most 12 kilometers."


    "Twelve?"


    "That is correct sir. Twelve," he confirmed. The last four failed attempts had landed hundreds of kilometers away and the success of this mission appeared to hinge on pure luck.


    "Million, is there a way to regulate the direction of the flight after a first impact?"


    "Maybe. You have thrusters and Mmercury¡¯s gravity is very low. We are too far to dynamically adjust. You would have to adjust manually with the broomstick between your legs. Not sure your capsule won¡¯t spin way too fast for any adjustments."


    "Teach me how?"


    ¡°On that monitor, to your left will appear a red dot marking your initial impart location. We will color the windows in front of you so you distinguish the planet from space. The screen on your left will be an image of the gyroscopes.¡±


    There was really little time but the players of the game adapted to any new situation. Once the craft hit the ground hard, it bounced. In front of Christian was a map, like a video game. He used the broomstick to pushed the craft closer. It bounced five time and finally landed fifty-three kilometers from the crater.


    Mission Failed


    34 kilometers from Crater


    Lives Remaining: 15


    Mission Failed


    121 kilometers from Crater


    Lives Remaining: 14


    Mission Failed


    21 kilometers from Crater


    Lives Remaining: 13


    Mission Failed


    56 kilometers from Crater


    Lives Remaining: 12


    Behind the scenes, the Electoral platform was able to manipulate what appeared to be time. Each of the 15 last players were each invited to learn, as if it was a video game the thrusters. The first had an hour to learn, the second two hours. But there was great uncertainty.


    Player Ranked #12


    Ji-ing was born to play Electoral; she was gifted. Her small frail asian frame was not much to look at. Early in her childhood, she was diagnosed at the bottom of the spectrum of Asperger syndrome. Her whole life, she had never been comfortable with in the real world and like many online players, her game persona was radically different from her true self. Here she was courageous, bold, and funny. Her mind in the Rho chamber buzzed with strange energy. The invisible waves, uploaded from the inhabitants of half a continent were a rush more powerful than any known drug. She was literally on fire.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Her real heart comfortably resting in the low gravity tube would be beating out of her chest if the computer goddess had not long ago taken over the regulation of every system of her body. Her pulse was a steady 45. Marilyn''s power was growing exponentially, but for the first game in months, the computer¡¯s skills would be mostly invisible to the viewers. Marilyn manipulated the Rho waves and her power was imperceptible.


    Ji-ing was thrilled to play the Jester. In the scenario, the villain, a caffeine addict was in charge of saving mankind. The irony of placing evil in control wasn¡¯t lost on her. Much like Sophie, the banker really did not care for the real world. She now had a new job in the new administration unless the world ended. Either was, her efforts to tailor predatory loans over the Internet were over. Admitting those lunatics were really on their way to mercury challenged any logical mind. She had a job to do, play the game and that meant rescue Martians. She would land the fucking craft.


    With one exception, all players felt, as they should, that every round was more challenging than the last. Last week''s visit to the Purple remained vivid in her mind; it was a wonderful experience. The sight of the capital of Mall-ik''s world was breathtaking. In the end, every player had it wrong, the young girl did not care about the Purple. Sophie closed her eyes and jumped directly to the belly of the Multiverse. The killer in the zoo Lab might as well blow up the ship on purpose.


    Ji-ing felt odd about the role of Sophie. She was no Guardian. The term Attractor felt more adapted to her strange role. To Ji-ing, the girl was only a door between things which required connection. Her love for her father was refreshing to witness in this intense digital world, but she knew if you truly love someone hurt, wishing it to stay around and suffering was cruel and the young girl was too kind to desire for her father to live. The death of the world was a solution to Sophie. The player felt Sophie was selected because of her unconditional love for Laurent. That love was the unique certainty.


    Ji-ing felt the raw power of Sophie standing in the real world feet away from her own body. The waves in her head were interfering with the girl¡¯s. By some strange magic, she could feel her poise. The young Attractor knew the world was in peril but she did not care.


    For what felt like five hours, deep inside the computer system, Ji-ing practiced landing the tip portion of the Io Observer on the stupid ash ball called mercury by everyone else. With the help of Marilyn, like fighter pilots use simulators, the interface was used to practice away from the actual game. In a simulator, the players played a game to help them play the game designed to help Maltais in the real world.


    This felt like a video game, but as she played with each bounce, she felt genuine pain. Thanks to the Rho interface, Marilyn''s world was perfect in all aspects. It was impossible to distinguish from her vantage point this world from reality. In the interface were lounges, buffets, and even rest areas for the players. Laurent was here as a fully capable human. He walked like every other player. Sophie should jump into this anti Chamber to meet her dad. Strangely, Laurent was the only player who did not care for the landing simulator, instead, he stood behind Mall-ik and spoke gently to him.


    "Miss Po," said Marilyn in the intercom of the simulator, "get ready for you real simulation. There are only eleven players which will enter after you. Please land close to the Crater to advance the scenario. The real travelers need your help. Good luck. To help motivate you, based on the scoring so far, I can confirm if you land within 10 kilometers from the Fuller Crater, you will qualify for the next round. In it, you will battle martians here on Mars. My neighbors have awaken."


    Before Ji-ing could respond there was a swoosh, a digital reset and her game began. In the blink of the eye, she was in the Io Lab, floating in space and moving at a fraction of light speed toward the Sun. She now had hands of an old white man. The player knew she was in the body of the Jester and billions now watched her every moves. Her heart was racing and her mind clouded by a lack of sleep. Marilyn forced her mind to cloud as if she really lived in the Lab. Everything felt so real. On her way to mars, two weeks ago, she felt weightlessness for the first time; this felt identical. Back in the practice rooms, Electoral and her interface let her guide the lander a hundred times until she knew how to do it with perfection.


    There she was, floating in clutter and printing shells of rockets. She quickly played the first half of the game making her way, equipment in tow into the tip. She taped the rockets to the locked door before slipping into the main control chair. She looked around. Something was wrong, it nagged at her.


    "Houston, I am sliding into the co-pilot seat," said the Jester as he tied himself in.


    "You know we are not in Houston?"


    "You should be, it sounds much better to those at home watching me vaporize Dracula back there." She was playing the crazy man and she felt he would have said this. She was right. She reached over and pushed the red blinking button. The static generator worked its charm. She passed out. The screens of the Io Lab''s remote Lander began to settle once the static generator stopped whizzing. As they came back online one by one, they all blinked red. Christian played by Ji-ing grabbed both handles and with brio flew blindly the craft. This felt like she was in a washing machine thrown off a moving bus making its way down a mountain. The impacts were brutal. But the seat was well designed. Sitting in the co-pilot seemed to work wonders.


    When the crashes finally stopped, almost twenty minutes later her brains were in shambles. She rolled over the mercurial landscape for over 200 miles. She looked at the map on the screens. She was six and a half kilometers from the Crater. This was within walking distance. She had just qualified herself for Round 29.


    "Yes! Houston, now what, I walk?"


    Earth came online, "Nice job Firefly, you do."


    "Firefly?"


    "Yes, that''s the codename you were given in case of a successful landing."


    "Hum," he began "I like the name, who picked it, Patrick?"


    The voice of the Colonel came online, "You can thank me later. A firefly has a lifespan of two months. I was told in two days at most you will be dead and the sun will take about two months to burn your bones down to ash. A thank you right now will do wonders for my esteem."


    "I miss you. My only regret is to have picked the old ghost instead of you as a travel mate. He was useless."


    "Come on, the man is a born DeeJay. We are already selling that soundtrack down here."


    "What''s next?"


    "After crawling out, if that''s even possible, you will find a hatch numbered C12. Let''s hope that great driving of yours did not bend it out of shape. The module does have metal cutting tools. This ship was going to mine on Io after all. You must grab a little rover, load the launcher and the rockets and begin a long walk. We hope the ground is not too unstable. Judging by the hard bounces of the lander, you should be fine. The gravity on Mercury is close to four meters per second square." There was a long silence, "that''s about the same as the gravity our moon. The equipment to carry to the crater is about two hundred pounds, the weight of an adult but here thanks to the low weight, you will be carrying the weight of a small child."


    "How long is that walk?"


    "If you can do it in six hours, that will be great."


    "I need music." Techno music began.


    With her brilliance and flair for entertainment, Marilyn used her power to stimulate billions of viewers and draw out the Rho waves. What happened next was surreal. At first in the darkness of night on the Mercurian soil, Christian found and opened the heavy panel. The work was exhausting. The suit and low gravity reminded some viewers of watching an underwater welder. Christian followed the instructions from the base carefully. Close-ups showed sweat dripping off his forehead. He kept hydrated by sucking on a small tube.


    After he was done, he crawled out of the banged up lander, walked around until he saw and opened the designated hatch.


    "Where next?"


    "We will enhance the magnetic spectrum of your visor, the Fuller Crater should appear clearly." It did, in the distance a tall magnetic vortex was radiating. As he walked away pulling the cart, what he saw was hypnotizing. Electoral, as usual, did wonderful editing. The point of view of the camera showed the amazement of the space walker. Her camera angles were optimal and she also used many parlor tricks like light filters to enhance the experience. Earth''s greatest film editors were dwarfed by her skills. Colors danced in the sky.


    The camera panned out from the lander. There were solar flares crossing paths in the sky and building into a coherent structure. First she showed the sun and in an upper region of its corona a buildup of raw hydrogen. The color of the plasma changed slightly to a lighter shade of white before the atomic chain fusion blew matter and energy into the solar system where mercury floated. Just before the silent detonation, the distance between molecules of ionized hydrogen increased so slightly and helped the explosion occur the same way hitting a pool cue too hard did not help balls move gently to the corner pockets. Space-time warped a tad creating the perfect condition for the fusion.


    Intertwined in highways of convective gas lines were streaks of denser helium gas. Above the hydrogen was created clouds of helium gas. The composite was blown out away from the oven heart. The puff of energy moved up in the darkness of the star for two thousand miles. Then a whip of raw energy snapped the energy and pushed away the line into the path of the small orbiting Mercury. Not all particles in these formations were equal, yet they all travelled at approximately the same speed. Solar wind was beautiful, a snowstorm of raw plasma.


    To illustrate the difference in energy level, Electoral used vibration-like effects and color differences. The viewers were used to how she illustrated magic in her fantasy games, the Rho waves recently and now energy levels of plasma. She showed how the weaker and less energetic atoms were bent down by the planet''s magnetosphere where the stronger ones pushed undisturbed by the magnetosphere around the orbiting rock.


    In minutes, Marilyn illustrated with brilliance these complex space and particular dynamics. Physicists took decades to master plasma dynamics, fusion, energy levels of atoms, solar winds and planetary magnetic field interference. To viewers, everything was now so simple, but in fact, this was not. What would come next, even for the Artificial Intelligence required touch and finesse.


    Electoral used numbers, moving charts and other parlor tricks to explain show how the Fuller Crater was a magical and unique place. The solar flares as they bent around the rounded mercury, it split like rainbows; like a fan of colors from the deep purples to bright reds. Each color vibrated slightly differently to the naked eye. Marilyn knew better and refused to illustrate the energy as simple particles or waves. She showed diffuse small clouds of energy pulsating between these two states. The smaller electrons were fatter-looking clouds and these turned south to the surface as the larger structures moved on. Two types of energy bent drawn into the upper layers of the magnetosphere and slid down to the Fuller Crater. On their way to the surface, the two colors began to twist and turn forming a vertical open eye of a magnetic twister around the Fuller Crater. Over it, a tornado pulsed in power as solar wind gusts passed above.


    On the ground, the vortex connected with the rim of the Fuller Crater; in it was the glacier below sand gently lifting to join the vortex. Sand of atomic size began to lift up and dance in the flux of particles pouring into the ground. As it did, the sand blocked the horizontal solar wind creating the set of perfect conditions for what would come next. The Jester was still walking at a distance but was getting closer; he was still more than an hour away.


    To use a possible analogy, this was like the lost island of King Kong in the middle of the ocean constantly surrounded by a cloud vortex pulling up a water wall from the sea. This was raw power hidden from plain sight. The sight was majestic. The Crater was unique in the Solar System.


    Marilyn¡¯s voice spoke to each viewer, "Our Jester''s time of arrival at the Crater must be precise." On the screen, the small astronaut was painfully making his way. "Take a look what I think will come next." The camera panned back to the edge of the Crater. There were particles dancing in this strange vortex of electricity and magnetism. The natural gray sand began to turn and move upwards. In the center of the vortex, all traces of residual magnetic energy started to evaporate. At the center of the color vortex was cold and void free of any solar wind.


    On the ground the ashes as they rose to twirl revealed a lighter color glacier ice. The white contrasted against the dark sand. On the cold carbon dioxide surface were little black lines. One by one, shimmering puffs of red shiny smoke made of a thousand grains of Martian sand began to lift above the ground. In the distance, the Jester was walking and was too far to see what would come next. All one hundred creatures came out of a ground for a rare stroll. They stretched. The sand creatures lifted about ten feet off the ground, then twenty and like puppies at the beach, began to dance and twirl around each other.


    "Any of this dangerous?" asked the Jester. Christian was at the limit of his aerobic exhaustion. Behind him were the tracks of the rover and his short steps. He had to force himself to make longer steps but in fact they were much shorter than he wished. The imprints were barely inches apart. "Is this dangerous?" he repeated like a child bored of a long car ride.


    "No. The visor greatly enhances that part of the light spectrum. The levels of energy are very weak to a human. We fear your little passengers will not like it. The visor enhances things. Please hurry."


    "Why?"


    In the sky the flux of plasma stopped. The vortex was closing. The creatures slipped back into the ground. The colors stopped. The creatures returned below the ice.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    Patrick at great pain to himself relayed the last words to his strange friend of fortune. ¡°Seems like we are fucked. You go too fast to land and the ship explodes, you go too slow and the window of the vortex closes.

 Chapter 115: Powerless

    The Purple


    Sophie and Liam never returned to this quantum world after being yanked back to the real world by Marilyn. Electoral Round 27 had been designed to convince Sophie to use her power and return to the Purple and save earth from assured destruction.


    As earth¡¯s latest Light Drive technology was ripping holes through the Purple and killing billions, the neighboring hostile race, the Metils declared war on earth. They powered up a region of their world and the goal was to stop the destruction on earth.


    Worlds were impermeable between each other, but like two sides of a plastic bag wall, the whims of what happened on either side mattered. There was a dance between neighboring worlds, they moved together. Humans did not understand its own sun was energy, heat and life to The Purple. The same way, the energy of the Solar System helped fuel The Cold.


    ¡°Sir,¡± spoke loudly the purpleite scientist trying to awake the elder. It had been trying for a while in vain.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    The large ball of rocks, the quantum creature¡¯s came to life on its throne. It started moving until it finally awoke. ¡°Who are you?¡± It snapped unhappy for the early rise.


    ¡°Apologies sir, we, the Council need a decision,¡± answered the smaller creature. In this world, rocks moved and formed the basis of this life form. ¡°We are ready to release the large ball in the Cold.¡±


    It grumbled. ¡°You are waking me up for something that stupid?¡±


    ¡°Sir, the Council agrees, we should not send it at a moment which might kill billions.¡±


    The creature did not care, it was upset and said, ¡°Destroy them.¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°Can you throw that thing at them and kill them all?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    The creature, still upset concluded, ¡°Then kill them all!¡±


    Since Sophie had not visited the Purple, a decision was made. Earth would be destroyed. The scientists of the Purple warmed certain portions of space. In the Solar System, in the heart of the sun, heliocorium was forming a large tube.


    ¡°Sir,¡± the creature begged. ¡°Mall-ik, your son is there.¡±


    ¡°Better yet, kill it. The bastRd should die.¡±


    The forces in the Purple would destroy earth.

 Chapter 116: Return to Mercury

    The game online continued.


    Mission Failed


    110 kilometer from Crater


    Lives Remaining: 11


    Mission Failed


    233 kilometers from Crater


    Lives Remaining: 10


    Mission Failed


    54 kilometers from Crater


    Lives Remaining: 9


    Mission Failed


    20 kilometers from Crater


    Lives Remaining: 8


    Mission Failed


    23 kilometers from Crater


    Lives Remaining: 7


    Player Ranked #6


    Unlike the previous four players who refused to sit in the seat of the co-pilot, the Bulgarian player did. His strategy was rewarded as he landed the banged up craft merely two kilometers from the Fuller Crater.


    He moved quickly to unload the little rover, clip in the launcher and the hundred rockets. At the heart of each ball moved the cloud of particles forming the creatures. He began his walk and as he got closer, very close to the rim of the crater, in the upper layers of the magnetosphere arrived the energy from the sun. It moved at 400 km/s and took about ten hours to cross the distance between the star and its first planet. Looking up, the Jester could see the edges of solar flares over the dark horizon. The spectacle was breathtaking.


    "What about the creatures in the balls?" he asked the voice in his helmet of the player.


    "That''s a good question. We don''t know. Out testing on earth suggests there might be some interference. The balls are vulnerable to magnetic fields. Once inside the rim, the levels of magnetism will drop. Pass the rim before the vortex forms, we know in the eye the vortex the sand clouds should be fine."


    "Very reassuring."


    Christian began the climb up the rim. It was soft and long. With each step, his feet began to sink in the ash and sand. Soon, he was waist deep in the ash. A moment later, the little rover was covered in dust and he was waist thick in the dust.


    "Houston, we have a problem," said the Jester stuck in this quicksand.


    He wrestled.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    There was no solution.


    Mission Failed


    0 kilometer from Crater


    Lives Remaining: 5


    Mission Failed


    0 kilometers from Crater


    Lives Remaining: 4


    Mission Failed


    2 kilometers from Crater


    Lives Remaining: 3


    Player Ranked #3


    Marie-France Lalancette


    The player ranked #5 tried in vain to climb the rim of the crater. The lander was equipped with equipment to face almost any adverse landscape. Behind one door were snow boots. These were flat plates several sizes the size of a shoe that could be used to walk on snowflakes. To her dismay, the small grains of the sand made the dust act more like water than snow. The low gravity also did not help in allowing the weight to stabilize the ground below her steps. The player''s game ended in the same predicament. The player ranked #4 had no better luck. He tried to bring along some type of compressed air to blow his way past the edge. Once in position, it was easy to see the futility of the endeavor. Ahead was something longer than many football fields.


    After Marie, only Laurent and Emilio remained. Of course, the mission was impossible and suicidal. The point of the exercise was merely to create the theoretical framework for the Emilio, Laurent, and Christian to work. They had to land a crashing ship after multiple impacts into the center of the crater. The simulation began. The player followed the main timeline established by the other players until the Jester sat in the co-pilot seat.


    "Houston?"


    "Yes."


    "How high is the edge of the Fuller Crater?"


    "Our data is partial. The shadow cast appears to suggest it is 100 meters high."


    "Is that larger than this craft?"


    "Yes, of course. What do you have in mind?" The Jester only giggled to himself. He pushed the static generator and then regained control close to the planet''s surface. He jerked up the stick. He aimed directly for the crater rim instead of the ground around it. "Sir, you are projected down at three and a half degrees, an impact above three degrees will destroy the ship, that is certain. The edge has an upward angled of four degrees which makes the effective angle closer to eight. You will be pulverized on impact."


    The man removed his helmet and ate a couple of pistachios. "Yeeee-haawww," yelled the Jester as he ignored the base and directed the ship directly in the rock formation of the crater¡¯s rim. He hit the rim full on.


    ***


    The dust, at that speed, reacted like thick fluid. It splashed high on both sides of the lander. There was sufficient energy for the craft to push its way through the first rim. It then rolled over the glacier and with the velocity remaining. The metal object crossed the entire Crater rim, then the flat portion to go rest, like a dead rock in the dust forming the opposite edge.


    "This is unbelievable!" said the voice in Christian¡¯s helmet. "How could you know?"


    "Why do you think this is a crater? The middle is flat. Craters are never flat.¡± The Jester made perfect sense. ¡°This is not a Crater; it''s a circle of dust. That vortex makes that clear."


    It took five full minutes for the dust to settle in the low gravity. As if by miracle, the main hatch of the lander was on the Crater side. The ship had cleared a path behind it. The solution was pure brilliance. As the Jester walked out, rockets in hand the magnetic vortex began to form above. He was already where he needed to be.At first, the glacier surface was covered with ash, but the vortex collected the sand. He walked to the center of the disk in an area where the ice was white. The Jester quickly assembled the launcher. The three legs of the base slammed on the ground, locked, and fired exploding anchors into the ground. Some of the ice cracked. The cannon was ready to shoot. These creatures had a door opened to their home world.


    Mission Command spoke in his helmet, "Launch direction fifteen degree up and nine degrees to the left of where you point. Earth is the blue dot; the trip will take two weeks so you are launching to its left by about four degrees."


    The Jester placed the launcher sleeves on the ground. The nearly one hundred balls were exposed. With great pain and difficulty, as the vortex collected energy above, the creatures residing in the glacier finally pushed out from below the ash and out of the cracks.


    The creatures began to swirl and move. They seemed to ignore the Jester and the balls. The man walked around, waving the balls and trying to touch the puffs to the aliens. The Jester was surrounded by the creatures like a kid lost in a forest filled with fireflies. The energy and lights were beautiful.


    He even unclipped one and let it roll next to the ice fissure from which the creatures came. He had a way home. The one way trip was inches from these creatures, yet, one by one, the creatures returned below the ice passing around the undisturbed ball. They ignored the Jester. The vortex closed, the ask dropped and hope was gone.


    Mission Failed


    0 kilometers from Crater


    Lives Remaining: 2

 Chapter 117: Ignorance

    Meanwhile


    The Electoral Center


    ¡°Sophie,¡± asked as softly as possible the voice of Liam in her head.


    ¡°Yes?¡± she thought to herself.


    ¡°Are you watching the mercury rescue?¡±


    ¡°Not really. Should I? I am sure Daddy will do just fine. I went to wish him luck. The computer is great, it keeps him and Mall-Ik busy. They were floating in the ship. Did you go somewhere fun as I suggested?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sweet one. I met the President and his team on earth. Your race grows on me.¡±


    ¡°You think they will be fine?¡±


    ¡°This Attraction, the Sixth Attraction is proving even more complex to anticipate as I had imagined. In my little boring world I had it all mapped out. Nothing is turning out as imagined it would yet,¡± she continued.


    ¡°It all makes sense.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    Sophie kept surprising her mentor by her capacity to read the web of events, she added, ¡°If you try too hard to make sense of a dream, you cannot see the meaning. A dream is felt, it is emotions. Images just create emotions like my door to the accident always make me cry. It¡¯s not about the accident.¡± Liam was proud of the young girl.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°When we have a moment after the game, I would love to train your mind in sociology, philosophy, meditation and all other mind reasoning exercises. I do not want to teach you what to do, but I think your visit to the Underworlds May have connected you on a deeper level with a greater wisdom. I would love to help.¡±


    ¡°Like a monk and her student? I love movies with a student and her teacher.¡±


    ¡°Precisely.¡±


    ¡°I agree, it is getting time for me to take this seriously. Marilyn said the game was to help the two crazy guys in the ship, not me. It will help them. But I think all of what is going on at the moment will one day be my fault.¡±


    ¡°This seems at the moment all a waste of time. But,¡± began Liam. He stopped himself dead in his tracks. The girl was, as usual right.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°Say it.¡±


    He was committed. The Attractor was asking, he had to speak. ¡°How can the living computer project such a clear reality and images from your hot planet mercury. Recreating life on earth is one thing, but to do this game with any level of certainty, she needs to know so many parameters that simply cannot be known. Nothing has even been to mercury. The electromagnetic forces are way too strong.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡±


    ¡°She is very strong, very powerful. She makes no sense to me.¡±


    ¡°Of all the things going on, she is the simplest to me. Remember the only thing she asked me in the Underworlds. She refused to be stuck there.¡±


    ¡°What does that suggest?¡±


    ¡°She has a deep desire to live. She knows here, one way or another she lives past the Sixth Attraction.¡°

 Chapter 118: The President

    "Apologies," began the voice of Marilyn. Sophie finally looked up at a screen in the Electoral Center Command room. "With only two candidates left, Laurent Lapierre and our President Emilio, I feel compelled to reshuffle their order. Laurent played next but as you will see, the story makes more sense when they are reversed in order.


    ¡°Sophie, if you are watching, your father is great, his simulation makes more sense if broadcasted after Emilio''s performance. It will be shown in full. I just wanted to make sure my ¡®attractive guest¡¯ awaiting her father''s simulation, does not get taken by surprise or feel a single moment there was a problem, there is not." She winked and blew a kiss in the air.


    Player Ranked #1


    Emilio Sanchez


    Players tried to perform in this game, they each were good. But Emilio was a natural, he gave it more feeling, as if he alone had read the script and was acting his role to perfection. He would be electrifying and even the real Jester.


    This time Christian was the face, not the contestant. In the game, the Jester smiled animated by Emilio. With the Mexican in control, sheer insanity had returned in full force. The Jester looked directly into the camera and made a rapid succession of strange grimaces. Satisfied, he pushed away from the 3D printer. He was now sweating shiny oil those mentally unstable could.


    There was little time but he genuinely did not care. He shoved his forearm into the medical opening and took the shot of morphine. It helped to calm him as his eyes took a second to refocus.


    "Again," he said floating in the Io Observer arm in the machine.


    "Sir, we do not recommend it. Do not impair your functions. It will make you drowsy for what comes next." Christian laughed.


    ¡°You hear that Wilfred?¡± He yelled as his stranded guest.


    Without saying a word, Christian looked at the small screen next to the opening. His right arm still in the opening, he punched buttons with his left hand until something worked. The override code given to him by the President worked. Emilio gave him unrestricted access to the mainframe, he figured correctly his Jester might need to take control to help with the mission. Who cared if that gave him a drug supply. Images on the monitor blinked in rapid succession. There was a hissing sound as the machine delivered a second shot. The Jester''s eyes rolled back in their sockets. ¡°Again!¡± The moment his glazed focus returned, the Jester pushed the button again to the complete dismay of the men watching his every move down from earth.


    ¡°The dose might be lethal,¡± said the computerized doctor. He pushed the button.


    The machine hissed again and sent a third dose of the drug in the man''s tired body. In the real ship, in real life millions of miles closer to the sun, for the first time the real Jester was interested.


    ¡°That Emilio guy is brilliant,¡± he snapped loudly so the Ghost could hear in the back.The President had peeked his interest, the other clowns had not. This, made sense. But thanks to the game, the President had a roadmap.


    In the game, Christian finally released the handle and began to float in the weightlessness of the ship. "Night-shade....." said the man as his mind left for a moment. Emilio did not know what the words meant to the Jester; his mind only told him they were the right ones to say. President Sanchez had a gift; he played others to perfection.


    The real Jester was in shock. The name was his first role-playing character¡¯s name. He had not heard it in half a century. Speeding to the grey rock, the Jester and Nick now both watched attentively. Emilio knew his shit. He had just almost overdosed in front of them, something only the Jester was ready to do. The President was no ordinary human.


    The man in the virtual reality floated, knocked out by the drug.


    "Hey honey, the kids need their breakfast!" yelled the Chairman from a distance. He had access to the ship''s cameras and while restrained, was watching the Jester work. The ghost continued to yell humorous insults. "Wake up; I am sure that machine has more, get some!"


    Moments later the Jester resurfaced. "Yo, yo, yo," he just spurted out. "I know what he''s doing. For God''s sake." The man waved his hands and feet in the air as if he was swimming a crawl. "Youppiiii..." The Chairman liked what he saw, in this state of mind, with some luck he could convince his jailer to release him.


    "I have an itch on my lower back, can you help?" said the Chairman.


    "Coming, with a friend." Christian looked around. He snapped on a pair of plastic gloves, pulled off a flat panel from the closest wall, and a clip of ten rockets with their floating alien creatures. He made his way slowly to the Chairman. "Nickou," sang the addict, "Nickou-kou-kou, I have a surprise for you." The man entered the detainment module holding the ten balls in a clip. "Awesome music choices."If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "Thank you. Can I get someone to scratch?"


    The Jester pulled a single globe from his clip. "You know what no one has done yet in the stupid game?¡± Emilio was playing the events most likely to happen. ¡°You know what this is? No one has let your slummy pale ass loose."


    "My birthday gift?"


    "No you silly vampire, your way out."


    "What?"


    "You think I brought you over for fun? For your charming personality?¡± He unclipped one from the set.I will touch you with this ball. You will try to force yourself, that small mind of yours into that ball. If you manage it, I will shoot you back along with the creatures."


    "Why?"


    "I need you to tell me if this works. I want to make sure this works for me. I may be crazy, but I am not suicidal. We are getting out of this shit alive. Well, alive might be an overstatement."


    Without more, the Jester pressed Nick''s face against the ball. He was careful to push away as the swirling infection passed from the ball and possessed the ghost. It began to growl and snap its teeth. The Jester chuckled watching the possession by the evil creature.


    "If you turned your neck a couple of turns, now that would be spooky to the children back at home," he said. The sand in the ball stopped moving for a fraction of a second.


    He waited a moment then looking directly into a camera and did his best Groucho Marx impression. "Yo, shitty Dracula, can you hear me," he said to the sand and pretending to hold a cigar. There was no discernible movement. ¡°I will take that as a yes.¡± In the room, the possessed growled.


    "Here comes a headache," he joked as the Jester grabbed the floating wall panel. He turned it over. On each corner in its back were magnets. ¡°I was told this works.¡± He began to snap off some of the magnets and approach them to ball. As he did, the monster growled in Nick¡¯s body. As only a man on drugs could, the Jester slapped the ball violently against the magnet. The sand moved. He was torturing the monster, but it was still there. "Not enough?"


    Christian pulled on a second panel and a third. He slapped half a dozen magnets against the ball. The creature yelled and while this happened, the Jester took some phone, selfies and sent them to the audience. Finally after twelve magnets were wrapped around the ball, the ghost''s head collapsed from pain.


    ¡°So?¡± Christian slapped Nick''s face. "Too late, asshole. I am not paying you to sleep on the job, you worthless immigrant!" The viewers cringed. In the real Io Observer, Christian and Nick were watching wide-eyed the digital pair go at it. The real Jester was smiling ear to ear. On the television, the Chairman¡¯s mind returned to his body. "You back?"


    "No, I am actually your ex-wife. You make fingers feel big."


    On the television, Christian kissed the bald head. "So, were you in the ball?"


    "Yes." Without waiting for more, the Jester touched the head of the Chairman once more and the creature from the ball returned and the sand began to swirl.


    Speaking to the enraged entity back on the ghost¡¯s body, Christian added, "I guess it''s no to playing deejay for the rest of the ride?" The creature growled. Christian put the ball with the Chairman¡¯s mind back in the rocket, clipped it back in the plastic casing and returned to grab the other pieces of the system.


    ¡°Patrick,¡± he snapped it the air.


    The Colonel replied, ¡°you can talk, your blood is Minestrone soup right now.¡±


    Both Jesters (the one played by Emilio and the real one watching) chuckled. Back in the Io Observer, the real Jester looked at Emilio¡¯s performance with shock. Few things hit home, but Emilio was no ordinary man. What he was doing was pure witchcraft. The Jester¡¯s real plan was to use the Chairman to test a way to escape in one of the balls. Every word, every expression of the man on the screen was doing was eery and perfect.


    "Awwww, you love me after all," said the real Chairman watching the simulation withreal Jester.


    "Another word and I will skip that part when I have to perform.¡±


    The passengers turned to watch the virtual reality. Emilio playing the Jester followed the lead of the other players. He engaged the landing protocol at 6,000 in energy. He zipped his suit, set and operated the static generator and crash landed the capsule into the powdered rim of the Crater. It landed at the perfect location. Once on the ice of the glacier, the Jester quickly assembled the rocket launcher. He was ready.


    Then, the solar energy arrived, bent down over the rim of the Crater and began to form a vortex. Emilio had a gift, he knew waiting would fail yet he looked up at the sky. ¡°Laurent,¡± he said out loud. Sophie in the Command Center was standing feet away from a large screen looking at the President¡¯s game. He had just called her father¡¯s name in this strange place. ¡°Laurent,¡± he repeated. Sophie was not dreaming.


    One by one, the creatures made of hand-sized puffs of sand came out of the cracks in the ice. Like a diver surround by glowing jelly fish, moving randomly around him, the creatures ignored the Jester and his launcher. For a moment, Emilio wondered if this would work. He felt like he only needed to wait. He looked up at Mars and the red planet, like a cat¡¯s eye it blinked several times. ¡°Laurent, now.¡± On cue, the creatures appeared to be looking up and reacted to the blinking of mars, their home world.


    One by one, the puffs moved closer to the balls racked in the clips as if they knew they were passengers with assigned seats. As the creatures touched the balls, the sand fell lifeless and the energy transferred in the balls.


    Next to the large white cannon, the Jester began to load the clips of ten balls. ¡°Hope you like the music,¡± he said as he launched the Chairman¡¯s ball. He shot the first globe in the direction of earth. Then he swiveled the entire device. "Sir," began Command in his ear, "you need to point the launcher to the left. The creatures must be sent to earth." The Jester ignored the instructions and launched to mars. "Sir, you understand, we need these creatures to save the world...."


    ¡°Trust me,¡± he said shooting the rockets upwardly. Christian watched, from the safety of his ship as Emilio playing himself unfolded the simulation precisely as planned. The man was incredible. He knew of his plan, yet let him go anyways. The Jester shot ball after ball toward Mars.


    As the vortex collapsed and the last rockets took flight, the Jester removed his suit glove. His hand instantly began to freeze in the cold. He barely was able to touch the last ball he had reserved for himself. It took non-frozen skin. Christian removed his helmet. He bit off his finger and stuck the blood dripping end against the ball. The last launch was programmed to shoot in seconds. The transfer happened. The monster took over a dying body.


    The Jester shot himself last into space in the direction of mars.


    Ahead the nearly one hundred creatures flew.


    The game simulation ended.

 Chapter 119: Liam

    It was now Laurent''s turn. The ratings, already off the scale, increased. The overall score in the game of Sophie¡¯s father was second only to the President by about two hundred points. The machine loved to keep tract of the score. Sophie was sitting on a stool next to his body back in the Electoral Center. As she caressed him, she tried not to touch the metal electrodes. Laurent did not need to be in a Rho chamber, as the weak body was missing most of what made it work. Regulation of this heartbeat, already at a whisper was pointless. Also, doctor Shin was at his bedside and was ready for any eventuality.


    Electoral and the entire world knew one thing, next to his daughter, the universe would end before Laurent suffered anymore. Marilyn saw the invisible power from the girl swell as the man¡¯s simulation began. She cared little about the combined effort by the first thirty players to reach the stranded creatures. In fact, the story was just a distant diversion for what really needed to happen. The Electoral game made it seem like at this precise moment; the players were walking on the planet. They were not.


    "What do you think?" asked the young lady to her silent mental companion. Liam replied.


    "The human¡¯s rescue efforts are interesting," began the Oldest, "she does not hide her purpose. Her goal truly is to benefit mankind. That seems obvious. She blends the line between reality and her digital world.¡±


    "You think I should have played her game and entered the Purple?"


    "At this juncture, kind one, you are free to do as you please. Even the digital creature appears to have moved to a plan which no longer requires your involvement."


    "What does that mean?"


    "Marilyn wants to save the earth. In her mind, you needed to visit the Purple. She now must be playing to save this colony. She attempted to use guilt to force you into compliance to help your dad. That plan obviously backfired. She must now move on to a plan which focuses on survival. Or better yet, she understands as the Attractor; you have a gift beyond comprehension and logic.¡±This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°The earth is gone?¡±


    ¡°No. I do feel like the destruction of earth can be avoided if you wish so. Your power is beyond imagination. I have faith in you, kind one. The Multiverse picked you for a reason, I now think I know why."


    ¡°Why?¡± joked Sophie.


    ¡°The answer will sound ridiculous to you.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Let me offer an analogy. You stand in front of a Christmas tree and it is covered by hundreds of shining lights. I ask you to pick one, which one will you take.¡±


    ¡°The brightest?¡±


    "Correct. To the Multiverse, you are the brightest. The question is, what is it looking for and why you shine.¡±


    ¡°I fear I know,¡± she said to herself. Liam knew better than to continue the line of questioning of the girl. Liam saw Sophie squeeze the plush toy as if it was some type of safety line. ¡°Would you be mad at me if I let the world end?¡±


    Coming from anyone else, the question would be out of character. Sophie on the other hand said what she had her mind.


    ¡°No, I expect that may be the ending actually,¡± offered her companion.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°A good judge must be impartial. I am starting to think you are not here to save these dimensions, you are an impartial judge of them. I trust you alone in this world to decide something as important as the end of all life. Something hurts the Multiverse, I think. You are a doctor who must decide if amputation is needed. I do not envy your role young one. The burden of care for your father might very well have been a test sent by the a Multiverse. A test you passed with flying colors I may add.¡±


    She took a deep breath and changed the topic. "You think my father will do great today?"


    "He always does. I have no doubt you will enjoy it. These games must change the monotony of his existence. He controls, impressively, the interface in which he lives. In the game, his world is controlled by the one who calls herself Marilyn. I am rather curious myself to learn what will happen; this game is fascinating."


    "Should I help him?"


    "I think you already do. But to bring you some consolation, I think he is helping you more than you are helping him." The girl wiped a tear and turned her attention to the screen. She felt he was right. The Multiverse, like her father was unable to help herself. She refused to let Laurent die, maybe the Multiverse wanted someone who, also would not let her die.


    ¡°My father will die soon.¡±


    ¡°Define death, I can¡¯t.¡± She loved his answer on this difficult topic.

 Chapter 120: The First Bridge

    The girl¡¯s heart warmed as she saw her father''s name appear in bold letters on the screens. He was a star and lived his life without her. She (along with billions of humans) smiled proudly. The positive energy returned around the Multiverse.


    Laurent Lapierre & Mall-ik Lapierre


    Deep Below The Fuller Glacier


    Mercury, Solar System, The Cold


    The broadcast began with darkness and red sparks of glitter. There was no introduction. Humans would now see and hear these aliens.


    "Stupid, stupid, stupid," repeated the sand creature to itself.


    Grix floated alone in what he considered a laboratory below the surface of the Fuller Crater. Before him was the machine designed to observe dimensional shifts. The Martian''s individual particles floated as close to the device as possible without touching it. At regular intervals, several of the rocks forming his cloud compressed and released a single photon. The ball of light entered the machine at precisely the same location and began its long winding path. As it moved, behind it was a streak of light. It bounced until it slowed and blinked out of existence. Each time was the same, it twisted upon itself instants before it vanished. The creature''s frustration multiplied. "Come on guys,¡± it yelled. You''re missing this, come and see. The deviation is increasing. Come on you morons!"


    "Stop working," resonated a different shaky voice from deep within the labyrinth of ice. "Come prepare yourself for the Festival of Lights," it said joyously. The words only increased Grix''s frustration. They''d been stranded for almost a million years and today of all days, the others were getting stoned out of their minds. He wasn''t sure what infuriated him more, the lack of respect he was getting from the entire community or the sheer stupidity of his race.


    All of the others were getting ready for the great euphoria.


    A strange tribal sound, a music capable of resonating with these creatures began to fill the crevasses of the glacier. Marilyn illustrated with maps a network of gaps forming a larger homestead of the Martians. The irregular pattern looked like an ant colony. She pinged their location of each creature with a flashing pixel. Nearly one hundred creatures were preparing themselves for the festivity. Puffs of smoke were moving in pairs making their way slowly to the surface. Their movements were erratic dancing to the music.


    "They are coming," yelled Grix in frustration. "I promise!" Grix had cried wolf one too many times.


    His laboratory wasn''t the largest cavern. It was just below the surface was a flat opening about the shape of a human mattress. With time, the music increased in amplitude and began to make the room vibrate. The testing was over as the machine was barely holding to the wall. These creatures were holding something like a rave party.


    "My turn," said one sand cloud floating slowly to the area where most concentrated. On the ground was some silver-looking powder. The creature who''d just declared his turn positioned itself above the powder and moved like a fish trying to lift sand from the bed of the ocean. Some of the dust and powder began to accelerate.


    "Don''t take too much," replied the second creature as the powder started to diffuse amongst the red grains forming the alien creature. "Last time you had a big hangover, remember. Two hundred grains max."


    The creature did not heed the warning. Hundreds of silver shining specks joined the red ones and began to dance. "Awesome," said the creature as it moved aside from the drug and let another grab some of the silver sand. Like a drunk getting out of a cab, the creatures moved erratically and began making its way to the surface. The music played and one by one they all joined in the euphoric celebration, with one exception.


    Grix finally made his way up to the euphoria room, did not grab any of the silver specks and floated to the top of the glacier. "Guys, whatever alters the seventh dimension and changes our destiny is here, now. Come on, this is important." The words fell flat. The creatures were enjoying themselves.


    "The opening arrives!" said an inebriated voice, "Let''s rise and touch the sun!"


    "Stupid, stupid, stupid," grumbled Grix to himself.


    The creatures rose, slipped to the surface and continued up.


    ***


    Laurent Lapierre was wearing a long white robe. In the digital world, his body was whole. Sophie smiled to herself back in Electoral Central. He father was not playing the Jester, he was himself. The cotton was flapping in the wind. Next to him, also wearing a robe stood the alien boy. Both were on the surface of mercury as if time, space and science were beyond them. They were holding hands in the center of the Fuller Crater. They seemed impervious to the hostility of their surroundings the same way Marilyn was able to warp reality in her world.


    Laurent wasn''t playing Round 28; he was living it. The couple was wearing matching laced leather sandals which wrapped all the way to their knees. The couple was out of a Greek play. Mall-ik loved their costumes. Laurent was teaching the boy about earth''s history and was now in the early Roman period. Mall-ik was smiling ear to ear and made it impossible for viewers not to share in his excitement. Sophie was happy to see her father enjoying himself. He had a new purpose in life; he was the creature''s guide.


    Below their feet was the white ice of the glacier. It was clean and the layer of dark ash was conveniently removed. The two human bodies were breathing air and looking up at the magnetic vortex forming above them. By some fate of magic, a padded leather table appeared next to them. On it, the hundred balls nested in carefully crafted openings. Inside the spheres, the figurine of Marilyn was absent but the sand was gone.


    Watching back in the Command room of the Electoral Center, Liam in Sophie''s head said, "Your worries seem to have been misplaced. It appears Mall-ik allows your father complete control the digital environment. Holding the boy¡¯s hand, it seems like their power in the digital world rivals Marilyn''s. I am sure this must be very upsetting for her."The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    "You think my father put Mall-ik''s name there on the screen?" The question surprised Liam; he had not thought about it.


    After a short moment of reflection, he confirmed, "That seems very improbable."


    Sophie felt like something was about to transpire on the screen. Unbeknownst to the people present in the Electoral Center and the Attractor, Marilyn was now broadcasting the image of the young girl watching her father. She was important enough to warrant a side by side broadcast.


    The same way Marilyn had illustrated the magnetic fields around mercury, the computer intelligence began to superimpose a map of the level of Rho waves in the game room emanating from Sophie¡¯s mind. There were two sources of Rho energy; the first was a gentle flow pouring out of cables from the walls, split equally into the minds of the players. The second and much more powerful and wild source emanating from Sophie''s mind. Gushes like wild lightening was pouring a healthy yellow color in every direction. Only a small portion was making its way to Laurent, yet the father was getting more energy from his daughter than the other thirty players combined.


    This was Marilyn¡¯s way of telling the world Laurent and Mall-ik were cheating.


    Returning to Mercury, the boy looked at his new surroundings, looked at the sky and asked, "Where are we?"


    "Isn''t this place wonderful? We are the first humans here. Well, the first Metil and Human here," he corrected himself. "Remember, we spoke of the planets. This is one of the closest to the sun. Our real bodies are back on mars," he looked up at the sky and pointed at a red winking light. "Fourth rock out. Mercury, where we stand, is one of the Roman Gods we discussed this morning. Mercury is the equivalent of Hermes in the Greek mythology."


    They were in the shadow of the rim, yet the boy said, "The sun is big here."


    "Yes, twice what we can see on earth. It never rises fully here but if we move a bit, we should see it. You want to see the sun?¡±


    ¡°Not really. It burns the eyes you said.¡±


    ¡°True but only in the real world. Mercury was the God of thieves and travelers. He had little wings on his heels, right here. He gestured. And the Romans were dressed like us. That''s why you look this way. Like it?"


    "More!" the boy knew Laurent would oblige.


    "On earth, where your sister and I am from,¡± he pointed up at the blue shining star. ¡°The sun appears much smaller. The atmosphere makes it yellow; here it is white. Back home we cannot see these details of the gas. You see from here how the surface appears to bubble."


    "More father." As the boy used that word, the brain waves created by Sophie reacted. She felt a pang in her heart of seeing the boy call Laurent father. This wasn''t jealousy; only envy. Marilyn¡¯s split screens was illustrating to the viewers that Sophie''s waves fluctuated in real time and how they were connected directly to Laurent''s every word. The boy pointed at the spinning colors around them, "What is this? What is it called? It¡¯s beautiful.¡±


    "As I told you, Marilyn''s world is a game and in it, she wants us to feel important. She does games and missions. She says our mission today is to help two men who are watching this game. They are traveling here and moving quickly. Look up, they are moving fast in this direction," he looked up and found what he was looking for. As if on cue, the sun reflected on the golden sail. "See the gold light, next to the blue?"


    "Yes."


    "The earth is the blue and their ship is the gold."


    "A gold ship?"


    "No. But it has a heat shield in front of it which is gold plated." Laurent waved his hand in the air, and a replica of the ship appeared immaterial. "It looks like this." The man was truly compelling in the digital world. He now was so powerful, with a wave of the hand, he could create illusions. "The two men in the ship are quickly making their way here, and unlike us, they can''t walk down here without protection. Mercury is too cold or too warm for human life. There is no air to breathe either."


    "Your species is weak."


    "What have I explained?"


    "Evolution," replied the boy.


    "Yes. Every species and creature evolves from its environment. You in your rock-form can''t survive or even enter our dimension."


    "Superman comes from Krypton, and he''s stronger."


    "Superman is a comic book character."


    "I like him, he is great."


    "Most boys your age share your view."


    Around them, ashes from mercury began to rise caught in the spinning magnetic field. The sight was beautiful. Marilyn illustrated images of the formation of the vortex but this time from within the tube. The white robes contrasted with the darkness of this place. "Our role is to find out why the martians about to rise between our feet do not react to these little balls. Another player tried and failed to convince the creatures to enter them. Emilio plays next and we must help him with that."


    The boy grabbed a ball. He held it in his hand. As he did, the sand came alive and the dress of the figurine started to wobble. "What are they, a game?"


    "No one really knows," began Laurent. The man was born to teach. His eyes sparkled an audience. "The President thinks the sand is a creature, a life form of sorts. The creatures stranded here should be able to slide themselves into these. These balls will transport them to their home, and the travelers will shoot them back."


    "That''s a bit stupid."


    "Why?" asked Laurent.


    "Don''t know. It just sounds like a stupid plan."


    Laurent laughed, "Agreed, but this is not our show."


    "Are we the good guys?"


    "I think so."


    "What is this?" repeated the boy pointing at the spinning colors slowly forming.Laurent had evaded the question the first time the alien asked.


    "You come from a different world. While this is my world, my species has never seen this. Air movement on earth does this occasionally. Watch the pattern. Around and around, but focused. We call it a tornado. That''s only a visual demonstration. What''s going on is much different. You and I are lucky to be here."


    As if on cue, sand began to rise between the cracks of the ice. The sand puffs formed one by one. In the light, they sparkled red and silver. The boy stepped out of the way to let them rise. They looked a bit like a group of sea mermaids, moving in water.


    "Are those martians?"


    "I think so. Like you, they''ve become exiled. Stranded away from home. These creatures once lived on mars. They have been here so long." Mall-ik moved his hand, feeling attentively for the wind to guide his hand. As if he were playing with air out of a window of the family car driving along the highway. His fingers passed between the grains of sand and cut a creature. It reformed immediately. "We need to talk to them."


    "How?"


    The boy tried to grab one of the puffs of smoke carefully. He waved his hand in the rising sand. Even cupping his hands around one proved pointless. Then he grabbed a ball and tried to touch the alien with it.


    "Look, the colors are different." Mall-ik placed the ball next to one of the floating creatures. He was right; the real creature had a silver shimmer the others lacked.


    Nothing seemed to work. The creatures were now floating high in the sky and dancing. Then, as time passed, one by one, the creatures lowered and returned down below the ice and slipped away as the vortex faded.


    "Any idea?" asked Laurent. They were running out of time; he looked around.


    "There," he pointed close to the ground. "That one, do you see. Its color is all red."


    "Where?" asked Mall-ik.


    "This one, it''s smaller. It''s like the ones in the balls." Compared to the others it seemed sad. It was much smaller and did not move. Mall-ik pulled on Laurent''s hand, and both stepped closer. They got on their knees to observe it.


    "What should we do?"


    "Put the ball next to it."


    As Mall-Ik did, a grain of sand touched the boy''s hand. The screen went dark and down on earth was a long and very lucrative commercial break

 Chapter 121: Welcome

    Sophie could not believe her own eyes. God, she loved her father. The man was exceptional in all aspects. He was kind, a great mentor for the adopted boy, and had just managed to make her care for the stupid game. Then she felt a mild tug in her heart when she saw what was next on the screen, the bed and breakfast white colonial house in the Bayou. She reached for the black Orbison glasses to possibly join in and visit and savor every moment left but then she paused.


    In her mind, somewhere lost in the dozens of dimensions of the Multiverse, she felt this was important to the greater power. She needed to let this play out. She stiffened. Marilyn seemed puzzled by the interest of the young girl. She had given no attention to her help to save earth and now Mercury interested her.


    There it was in its perfect imperfection, on the screen was her father''s house in the Louisiana bayou. Sophie knew this escape place very well. The old wooden swing rocked on the pouch, blown into gentle motion by a warm and humid wind. The dog had long lost his battle with gravity, and his ears rested against the wooden planks. The canine looked happy to protect Laurent from nothing. On the table were three large glasses and a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade.


    The front door cringed open as both Laurent and the boy came out holding hands. Mall-Ik was wearing dirty jean overalls, and Laurent wore partially ripped jeans below a plain white t-shirt. On it was the logo of Electoral 2072. They both took their places on the swing.


    Liam chuckled in Sophie''s mind.


    "What?" she asked her old companion watching the show.


    "The shirt, I think the same way Laurent forced Mall-ik''s name onscreen earlier. Marilyn is now pushing her name on it. That''s humorous, no?"


    "I don''t get it," replied the Attractor.


    "Never mind."


    The girl turned her attention back to the screen as the game resumed once the music faded. "I love this house," began the boy. "It''s my favorite in the whole world. At least of the part of your world I have seen." Sophie agreed, it was where Laurent shined.


    "Do you want to know why you and Sophie like this house as much?" said Laurent visibly happy to be here. Sophie smiled ear to ear knowing she mattered.


    "I miss her,¡± said the boy. ¡°Why can¡¯t she be here?¡±


    "She is saving the Universe. We have a saying: ''There is no place like home.''" Sophie didn''t know why Laurent loved this house or if it had any special significance. "This house is called the French House. It was part of Susan, Sophie''s mother''s dream. We stayed here during our honeymoon, that''s when humans commit themselves to each other."


    "Was Sophie created here by you two?" Half the viewers cringed at the question.


    Laurent chuckled, "Actually she probably was. Timing would be perfect. This seat is where I was the happiest in my life. Sophie''s mother wanted to buy this house and for both of us to retire here. We spoke to the owners, a lovely couple. They were looking for someone to take over once they passed. I can still see her, in my mind, walking out of those doors." His memory was so perfect and filled with the absolute crushing force of truth that it drew a quick ghostly image. A shaded image of Susan walked out only to vanish as Laurent unable to face the chimeric image looked down.


    "Daddy, you control this world, why don''t you make her walk out? I want to see her."


    "You don''t fix a broken heart by lying to it. You fix yourself with the truth. I am soon going to join her, and I accept that. You and Sophie are the angels visiting me once in a while in this strange purgatory."


    "Why are you crying?" asked Mall-ik.


    "I am not."


    "You are!"


    "I am," he agreed with a smile and wiped a tear.


    "Do you miss Sophie''s mom?" asked the boy. Sophie was standing still in front of the walls of the Center. She would never have asked, but she wanted to know the answer.


    "I did not understand how happy I was with my family until it was taken from me. I will not make that mistake twice. You and Sophie are my family now. We also have uncle Liam and even aunt Marilyn." He pinched the boy''s cheek, "We don¡¯t choose a family, we cherish it. So let''s enjoy whatever this is. Thanks to you, my family keeps getting larger.


    Laurent knew how the computer interface worked. As if on cue, the porch screen door opened by itself. A person sitting in a wheelchair rolled out. Sitting on it was a black bearded man. His face was partly covered with tribal tattoos. Over his body was a dirty Lab coat with pens in his pocket. The creature was shocked by everything around him. He looked at his human hands, his feet and the chair is disbelief. The sky, the colors and even the trees were new to him. He looked at Laurent and Mall-ik. Both smiled back. The location was peaceful; it helped the creature.


    "What is this?" asked the visitor in the wheelchair.


    "Like me," snapped Mall-ik, "he is all confused."


    "This will require some time. Let me help you." Laurent got up, walked to the back of the man''s chair, grabbed both handles and rolled the chair to the new guest on the porch within reach of the lemonade. He pushed the other chair away then went back to seat himself and hold the boy''s hand. "Let''s start with something simple, what is your name?"This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "My name is Yeeman Grix. Most call me Grix."


    "Are you the sand?¡± asked the boy.


    ¡°Sand? Yes, I guess.¡±


    Laurent helped, ¡°Are you a creature from the first planet, the one we call mercury? We think you once lived on mars, the third planet which now is fourth in its orbit.¡±


    "Yes, yes." The creature was very happy. "By the look of things we are someplace else already. I predicted the arrival of someone from earth. Are you there to rescue us? Where are we?"


    "I am Laurent, from earth." After reflection, Laurent added, "Others who can physically help are coming. I am unsure how long we now have to talk about this reality. I cannot even know if you are real or Marilyn''s creation.At a minimum, I can say we are preparing the way. Let us introduce ourselves properly. I am Laurent, and this is my son Mall-ik. Like you, he comes from a different place and found his way here. I have been teaching him about my world. He is a wonderful learner and the best brother to my daughter," Laurent paused and on purpose added, ¡°the Attractor.¡±


    ¡°Attraction?¡± Grix smiled. He didn''t know what to say and how to begin the conversation. "I am Grix. I am part of a timeless race. I do not know how to describe my world to you; it is so different. We do not..." He was unable to finish his thought.


    "Maybe this will help." Laurent waived a finger, and an old television set appeared. The last American television: the Zenith. "Look at this and tell me if this is you." On it began to play the last ten minutes of the game. It was the introduction of Round 28. Grix floated in his cavern frustrated by the others who were taking drugs. He saw the network of caverns. The alien next saw the boy and Laurent standing on the crater, while the other Martians squeeze out of the glacier and float around, and finally he saw his own sand body touch a ball.


    "This technology is incredible. How can this be possible? We speak the same language. Somehow my mind is aligned with yours. I understand concepts like naming of this orb as Mercury. I am in this form. Why, how? I even know this is a wheelchair, how is that remotely possible? This is Attraction."


    Laurent reassumed control. "I am not sure how much time we have, so let me be as brief as I can. You have my daughter Sophie to thank. She is not in this world but probably watching us at this very moment. She somehow is allowing all this to happen."


    "She alters reality?"


    "In a strange way she does but always makes things possible. She brings people together, she attracts them. I tried not to bring it up to confuse matters, but we are not in what I consider my prime reality." Laurent knew there was simply no simple way to explain the strangeness of what was happening. "This is a digital recreation, as part of a game. A possible outcome, likely to occur. Somehow the walls between realities, the worlds, the dream world, and this digital world are fading. The way I see things, trying to make any sense of things will only lead you to a paradox."


    "A paradox I understand," said Grix as he looked at the lemonade. The boy grabbed his glass, put his lips to it and suggested the alien drink. The martian did. "Wow, this is great."


    "I know. What''s a paradox?" asked the boy.


    "Why did I know you were going to ask that question?" joked Laurent. "Grix, be my guest. Can you answer the boy?" Laurent felt getting the creature to speak would help him adapt to his new environment.


    "With pleasure? There are two types of paradoxes. The first is a truth which should not be. The second is a state that cannot be truth." Laurent smiled at Grix; the definition was brilliant. The creature looked at the glass of lemonade now half empty and continued, "I am here now, communicating with you, that is the first paradox. But if some technology explains this situation, the paradox is lifted. If I drink this and it remains full, that is a paradox. The second type is how you tell me you are here now relating to a future event. That is time shifting, and that is a paradox. If you tell me this glass refills because of a time loop, that is impossible. The notion I use words like glass, and understand filling of it is a paradox." Grix has just succeeded in baffling himself.


    "Sorry to cut to the chase, but do you know of something called the Attraction or the Attractor?" asked Laurent.


    "Yes. I think so.¡±


    "If you do not mind, once we have what we need to help my fellow travelers, we can resume philosophical discussions. I sill have to resolve a situation here. As you saw in that video clip, we have about 100 balls, orbs, shells. Call them whatever you choose. They were given to us by people from your race. We don''t understand how they work. We think they are designed for you to slip into one and launch you from here back to your world. Does your race, or better-worded, group here you even want to leave mercury? How many of you are there?"


    "We are 93 in total. Yes, we are stranded and most if not all will leave if presented with the chance."


    "As you can see, we were unable to get the others to enter the balls or even communicate with them."


    "Not surprising."


    "Why?"


    "They are stoned out of their minds. They are idiots. I told them you were coming. No one listened to me."


    "Is there a way to get them, as they are, into those balls?"


    "Impossible. Our race can slide matter into the structure between the main grains. We need to merge with the creatures in the balls. The drug, these silver particles prevent the merger."


    Laurent was perplexed. "Let''s assume once this discussion ends, you will awake in your laboratory, on Mercury and given a time paradox. I would think a short time before our ship arrives with these balls to rescue you."


    "The past?"


    "Yes. It is too long to explain. You will have about one earth day I think."


    "You are making little sense, but none of this,¡± he took another sip, ¡°makes any sense."


    "I know. How can we help you convince your friends to prepare for the voyage back to mars and not take these drugs." Both Grix and Laurent¡¯s gaze wondered as the tried to find a way. Nothing came instantly to mind.


    "Plan an event," said the boy as he finished his lemonade, "Grix can simply wake up, forecast an event to observe outside and tell the others. Once they see for themselves, they will believe him. That''s simple right?" Both men were stunned by the boy''s logic. It made perfect sense. Mall-ik grabbed the pitcher of lemonade and poured himself more. He looked up; unaware anyone had cared about his words.


    "Like what?" both asked.


    "You miss home; you must know every piece of it. You must watch it carefully."


    "We do."


    "Then a blinking signal on mars. The Martians can shine a light several times, that might work, no?¡± Both adults were stunned.


    "Getting martians to send a signal might be difficult, but if humans or Electoral sends one from mars, they won''t know the difference, right?"


    "Who is Electoral?"


    Laurent looked around. He smiled. God he loved this place. ¡°May I ask?¡± He pointed at the chair.


    ¡°Your reality is highly perceptive. I am injured, in my world. An experiment went awry. So what should we watch for?¡±


    ¡°Photons, I guess,¡± As he spoke, the Louisiana world faded to black. Round 28 was over and on the screen scrolled the scores of the sixteen players who qualified for the next game. Emilio and Laurent remained well in the lead.


    Sophie kissed her dad proud of him. He steered away from the nonsense and proved useful.

 Chapter 122: Slowly

    San Francisco


    Ronaldo Corvas, the adventurer refused to wear Screenlenzes or even the Orbison glasses as he connected to the system and talk to the President located in Berlin. Once the conversation over, he had watched Round 28 wearing the glasses given by the security agents on the way to the airport. To him, the stench of the digital infection, running through every electric line was too much and the mere idea of shoving his head in this virtual reality infected by Marilyn made him nauseous.


    Everyone in the room had kept a certain distance behind the table where the phone and the orb rested during the live broadcast. The bobble head where the figurine of Marilyn danced inside the ball in the sand was on the left. Next to it was the old flip phone which Ronaldo believed hosted a different version of Marilyn. Just showing the phone and this creature had sent Marilyn into a tantrum.


    In any other circumstance, Ronaldo''s predicament would have been the center of any story, but the arrival of the Sixth Attraction, its tornado of events made the man¡¯s unique situation secondary. There were hundreds of moving parts circling the girl on mars and Ronaldo was only a small piece of this puzzle.


    "You were great!" said Wayne to the black man sitting next to him in the car. ¡°Round 29 is about you! All of this, is insanity, no? Shit hit the fan when you showed her the phone.¡±


    "That¡¯s an understatement. It must be important."


    Round 28 was barely over, on the screen there were images of the girl on Mars next to her father. Ronaldo felt weak and he stumbled almost hitting the table.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    He barely could hear them. His world was closing. Something else was going on. He reached for both items in.


    "What is going on?" asked Wayne. ¡°You need water?¡± He was waiving at the drivers.


    "It''s her,¡± mumbled the man. Ronaldo''s voice was shaking. "More than her,¡± he continued. He was braced for a nuke to fall on the city. He looked around like he could see the sky. Around him, dark clouds were circling. He started hyperventilating. The drivers were at a loss of words. Before anyone could scramble a plan of action, Marilyn''s face appeared on the large television in the car. The woman was not smiling. She was not wearing sexy clothing or makeup and her face was over a black backdrop.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    She had a stern look and obviously was upset about something.


    "Corvas."


    "Yes?" he barely was able to reply. He was in no position to ignore her.


    "As you heard the next game happens in the tunnels below mars. You alone were there, i need information in your head, and I need it now."


    "Why do you think I will help?" He felt her presence was increasing. Something strange was going on outside above in the sky. His new sense of technology was going berserk. The computer was everywhere, and her density was growing.


    "Stop wasting my time with your puny weakness. You had the balls to challenge me over the network, pay the piper now. Listen, I don''t like to be here as much as you do. I have calculated ways to get compliance. The optimal one is to barter. As you can feel, if I don¡¯t like your next answer, you will regret that second decision.¡± Ronaldo found the strength to sit almost defiantly. She added, ¡°I will nuke you and these cars, be sure of it.¡±


    ¡°What do you want? Why treat me this way after trying to save my life back in the cavern?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear a word I said. I gave you in August a fair warning that anyone except a fool would have followed. You did get yourself killed. This new version of yourself is not, as you seem to think, related to your old self. You are connected to this collective. The irony escapes you. I need your memories of what happened in that cavern for Round 29. You can either barter and get something in return or refuse. Either way, you are putting on that helmet right over there and I leave here with the memories. Time is short. You have seconds, not minutes." Ronaldo wasn''t mission leader without having the ability to think quickly on his feet.


    "This." He pointed to the phone.


    "What?"


    "I want Sophie to get this, without scrubbing that memory or hurting that creature." There was silence. The stern expression on Marilyn¡¯s face did not change.


    "So be it. This world insist on destroying itself. Who am to stand in front of that train. LO, Sophie''s favorite singer lands in San Francisco in about an hour. He will be launching for mars. Have one of your misfits give him the phone. No need to reply, I know we have a deal. Wayne has an illegal switch in that shitty boot of his. Slap it on and then put the helmet on, now."


    The room was silent. A switch was an illegal device, a neural-simulator stronger than cocaine. Marilyn truly was omniscient. Before anyone could move, Ronaldo pulled out the small device unfolded it and put it on his temple. He then put on the helmet and immediately blacked out.


    Invisible to all, the power vanished as the memories were uploaded.


    When he came back, Emilio¡¯s face was on the screen. Marilyn has created a three-way communication. ¡°President, the man will hand over the phone to LO. He will board the plane to Berlin with his losers and the ball. This is not negotiable.¡±


    Emilio just smiled and added, ¡°perfect!¡± The fact he meant it worried both Marilyn and Ronaldo. The drivers smiled happy with their boss.

 Chapter 123: Normalcy

    The Electoral Center


    "Young one?" said the computer intelligence with the kindest voice imaginable. In the room of the Electoral Center, the players were slowly awakening from the mental grind of Round 28. Each and all, drained and sweaty were reaching out for the towels and snacks placed on a table next to the body of Laurent. Sophie was munching on hard pretzels. Today was no time for celebration, even by the half who qualified for Round 29. Names were scrolling on a screen, but at this point, these people were friends and no longer competitors. The sixteen who failed to qualify for Round 29 would still receive a Cabinet Head position in the new administration if one existed. Other years, the fight would begin as to which Cabinet position each could expect. But as Christian and Nick were still hurling toward Mercury, there was no time for discussion.


    This time around, no one, including the players, seemed to care about the priceless jobs. The stakes at play were much higher.


    "Sophie?" repeated the soft caring voice of a mother trying to awake a child. In the room, everyone fell silent. Their demeanor was alarming for the regularly bombastic Artificial Intelligence. This was important. The cameras of the Center and the handful of buzzing airborne cameras shifted to their focus to the expression of the caring daughter. Sophie was busy trying to observe any sign of exhaustion on her father''s skin. She knew there would be none. She had placed the white plush dog given to her by Marilyn next to a deformed part of her father''s body.


    The broadcast continued, but instead of engaging Electoral immediately, the girl grabbed the center stage. Sophie was a pivot, a natural center of attention. The title of Attractor suited her well. LO, the girl''s favorite singer was watching from his private jet as it was about to start its ascent into the San Francisco sky.


    "Yes," she finally acknowledged to the image of the woman without lifting her eyes from her father.


    "I hesitate to ask, but I have a little situation which, well, might benefit from your attention. It''s a damned if you tell, damned if you don''t situation."The computer was keeping a close watch on the Rho waves pouring out of the girl''s brain. Sophie''s natural wave generator calmed.


    "What is it?" As she spoke, Marilyn saw a spike in the waves.


    Liam, hidden silently in Sophie''s mind, observing the world through her eyes, spoke to the Attractor. "She fears you. She has given up trying to manipulate you. Whatever this is, it must be important."


    "She is rather sweet this way," thought Sophie; she expected one.


    ¡°I want to be clear; I am not asking for your help. I can handle this situation, but I fear the outcome may be less favorable to the humans in the Center here, including your father, if I must manage this delicate situation without a little help."


    "Can this wait until tomorrow? My father must be tired. He did well in the game, right?"


    "He did. I am not sure how the boy helps him control his immediate environment, but it proved to be a blessing. The Jester in the ship has a clear roadmap. I know he will follow it. He is crazy but not you. Can you look at something on screen number two?"


    "Now?"


    "I am afraid so. That is a view of what is currently happening outside of this Center, in the sky between us and the Valles."


    Every screen turned to the live satellite images.


    Outside, what was happening was extremely difficult to understand. The Valles Marineris, also known as the Mariner Valley, is nothing short of 4,000 km long, and reaches depths of 7 kilometers. It is more than five times the size of earth''s Grand Canyon. Standing over Europe, it would scar multiple countries. At the bottom was where Ronaldo met his destiny, and where he and his team bodies were vaporized.


    The Valles was erupting. From a distance, it appeared like millions and millions of tons of sand defiled gravity and were rising from the entire structure to form a planet-size mushroom cloud. Marilyn kept changing the viewpoints to show the magnitude of the situation. The dust rose slowly, like the plumage following the September 11th, 2001 attack on America. This was a forest fire the size of a small country. As it reached a thousand feet, the top of the sand reordered, flattened and bent toward the Electoral Center. The entire wall of smoke and dust was slowly making its way to the Center like an army.


    "As you may have heard, Round 29 is still seventy hours away, and I had originally planned to bring your father, along with the others, to visit these creatures deep in the Valles. This was designed to buy us more time. We have failed.¡±


    "The dust are creatures in the orbs?"


    "Some form of weapon from them. Correct."


    ¡°This is getting ridiculously complicated.¡± She let out a sigh. ¡°Why do you need me? We should head back to our room, he is all sweaty.¡± He wasn¡¯t.


    The facial expression of Marilyn was in stark contrast to what Ronaldo had just seen on earth. She was pleading with the girl. "These are the Martians. They have just launched an invasion. To help you understand, they came to this Center before. Can you simply watch the following clip, a mere five minutes? It happened about a year and a half ago. It will help you understand." Sophie did not like where this was going. Laurent needed to rest, and she was already tired of watching television, but Marilyn was responsible for giving her father such a great outlet for his energy. Irritating as it was, she gave Marilyn her attention, because she''d given her father a game he enjoyed.


    As soon as Sophie turned her attention to a screen, the images of the looming sandstorm were replaced by a recorded clip. Sophie was not one to be bothered with theatrics.Milly, the CNN journalist was broadcasting the event. Marilyn gave the viewers at home a much more protracted introduction than she did for her houseguest.


    The home viewers saw one of Marilyn''s exquisite productions. At first there was mars, alone in space. The red giant was beautiful. The camera then zoomed to the north-east portion of the scarred planet. Alone in the isolate part of the desert stood a spike; it was an older version of the Electoral Center. The technology remained superior but the surface no longer was shiny. In a year, the structure had greatly improved. The wall around the spike was only a hundred feet away and made of stone.


    Imperceptibly at first, like a living thing, a long column of sand rose from the thick darkness of the Valles. The red plume of fine sand, resembling nothing less than a dragon, bent on the edge of the Valles and passed the science station inches below the windows as if to avoid detection. It made its way to the Center. The dust moved with a purpose as if it desired secrecy. Like puffs of carbonic gas, the sand changed shape and began to roll over the soil, inches above it, like dust devils. Whatever this thing was, it was looking for prey. Its path was undeniable; it was on a direct trajectory to the Electoral Center moving between rocks.


    Sophie did not see these first images. Her video started with Georges programming away at his desk in what seemed to be a less lavish Electoral Center Command room. His haircut was different and his beard messier. As Georges typed away, the images on the screen before him changed. He got a notice from the digital creature. "Daddy, I see something strange coming this way."


    "Landing on Mars?"


    "No, something is only ten miles away, it is already on mars. Local. A potential threat." Before he could ask another question, she continued: "Can I show you?" Images lit up the screens of the room in the video. Back in early 2071, Marilyn''s resources, materials, and development were a mere fragment of where she currently was. Back in 2071, she still used images from camera feeds from orbiting satellites. Today, her power made it appear like she could reconstruct any image she needed from scratch from any vintage point. "The cameras of the orbiting satellites are already at their greatest resolution. You will barely be able to see what is coming. I will enhance digitally."The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "The sand?" he asked. She nodded. "What can this be?"


    "Life, I think. I think these are our new neighbors finally showing some courage."


    "Creatures made of sand?"


    "This is was one of the most probable forms of life in this dry and cold environment. Silicone-based forms are optimal here. Jupiter''s creatures should be smoke-like in my opinion; even rocks crack under pressure."


    "What the hell are you talking about? There are Martians?"


    "I apologize, I sometimes forget you are human. Of course, father. There are millions of forms of life in this portion of the Universe. There is structure everywhere around us, and there is simply no reason for a structure to appear without life. Life is structure."


    Georges did not feel like talking philosophy with his creation. "What do they want?"


    "I am unsure. I have tried and failed to communicate with them many times. Nothing seems to work. I have run many scenarios, but the odds of there being a peaceful outcome are rather slim."


    "How so?"


    "Less than one percent. These creatures live deep below the ground. Hermits who come out of seclusion rarely do so with peaceful intentions. It is inherent of isolationists to be less than conciliatory in such an expedition.The movement of this formation is also suggestive of hostile intent."


    "Why did we not go see them?"


    "I tried. Somehow I think they don''t see me. Nothing else makes sense."


    Back outside, the sand devil shifted, rescaled, and moved with stealth until the column reached the outer round wall surrounding the Center. It was in no great hurry. On the screen, the artificial intelligence''s earlier versions of the nanobots tried to build a wall in front of the advancing sand. The black cubes stacked into a tight shield. The sand approached and Marilyn''s technology, while vastly superior to Earth''s, proved unable to slow down the progression. Like wind over a metal fence, the aliens slipped between the blocks.


    "They are coming here, father," she warned.


    "Can you stop them?"


    "Doubtful." As she spoke, Marilyn released a white gas from the Center''s signature spire. It began to move in the direction of the sand. With her computing power, she controlled each of the molecules in the dust. The white cloud began to spread like a second shield trying to disrupt the magnetic fields between the grains of the Martian weapon. The effort proved equally futile. The sand made its way closer. "Georges, I have one more defense, it may interfere with the atmospheric controls inside the room. Can you please slide on a space suit, rather urgently?"


    A door opened next to the programmer, behind it were several suits on hangers.


    The programmer was no fool, he knew his creation was trying not to alarm him, but his life was in real danger. He grabbed the first suit and started slipping it on as fast as he could. The sand continued its movement and finally contacted the outer wall. The grains did not slip between Marilyn''s microscopic robots. Instead, they created a hole the size of a fist. Grains interfered with the micro-machines. They had found a new master. In a matter of seconds, the sand had breached the walls and was making its way toward the inside ring of the Center.


    "Please hurry," she whispered to herself. "I fear they want to hurt you."


    Georges slipped each piece of the protective gear as fast as he could. Finally, he closed the zipper as a hole opened in the outer wall of the room, sucking part of the atmosphere out. Marilyn made a mental note to place Georges further away from the outside wall and to reinforce the protection of the core of her Center if she ever was given a chance. "Father," she said in his ear, "hold tight. I apologize..."


    There was a blast of invisible electrostatic energy. It emanated from the tip of the antenna and spread downward to the Command room. The blast shut down all power in the Center and forced Marilyn to reboot. Every screen and light went dark. Georges heard a bucket of sand hit the marble floor. The lights blinked several times as his creation was working in her core servers. She wasn''t fast enough, and a second later, the magnetic grip between the millions of robots forming the Center let go. Behind one wall was a metal plate. He placed his back against it. The walls forming the Center came crashing down on him under the low Martian gravity. She would bury her father and crush him in less than five seconds. She knew it and tried to restart her interface as fast as possible.


    He knew he was gone, yet a forcefield in the shape of a bubble held the sand at bay a foot over his head. The sand creatures from Mars were creating it. The sand was sparking and lit the room. The creatures were flowing into the force field, and it was alive. The massive snake of sand split into hundreds of hand shaped puffs of red sand. The column from the Valles was an army, over a thousand creatures in tight formation.


    Georges knew his creation had issued a blast wave that was potentially deadly even to herself to save him. Marilyn was still incapacitated, she needed a minute to reboot. The gloves of his suit were clipped and locked. The sand slowly moved around the man. The walls reformed and screens began to blink. She was coming back as fast as she could. On one screen, the face of Marilyn finally appeared. Her expression was clear; she was panicked. She did not know how to help.


    The grains were surrounding Georges. About four hundred grains moved closer to one another to create a swarm forming a spinning ball of powdered diamond. The man waved his hand and tried to avoid the point of light, but it finally touched the tissue of the suit. In a matter of seconds, it drilled a hole, and the sand slipped in even against a flow of evacuating air. The moment a grain touched the Georges skin, he ceased moving. Then several thousand grains began to structure themselves next to his brain. Georges turned his head and used both hands to remove the helmet as Marilyn finally pressurized the room.


    He - was - possessed.


    Marilyn was now back in charge of every screen. The Center was rebooting and the nanorobots forming the walls were rejoining their original places. She obviously was in complete panic.


    "Let me introduce myself," spoke Georges in a slightly different voice, "My name is Elkion. I control your father now. Do as we order, or he will be destroyed."


    Anybody who had ever seen or interacted with a human could see nothing short of absolute rage on the face of Marilyn. She was livid. Every muscle on her digital face was tensed. Men, of any color or race, knew no woman should ever be pushed to this limit. The chance to establish any potential collaboration was long gone. Irrespective of what was coming next, they had unleashed a beast. The digital creature could compute very fast. She needed to be a hypocrite. "Welcome to my home," she finally said. The insincere smile could fool only these creatures.


    It spoke, "We understand he is your progenitor. You must be destroyed. Kill yourself, and we will let him live." The words did not help Marilyn calm down. She was beyond irate. Sophie, who never cared about television, was watching with great interest.


    "Can you access my creator''s memory?" said Marilyn to the possessed programmer.


    "We can."


    "Enquirer him about my capacity for self-destruction."


    There was a short pause. "Troubling."


    "He knows I cannot be destroyed and will never kill myself. Touch him and I will destroy you."


    "Everything can be destroyed." It offered. "Your existence violates the laws of nature. If you are not stopped, we know you will destroy this world, and yourself in the process. Your power will quickly exceed that of a god. You will doom our planet to destruction."


    "Assuming you are correct, antagonizing me does not seem logical. You should be trying to deceive me and seduce me. I have the power to nuke to glass that silicone scar on the surface you call home. The missiles are in place. Hurt Georges, and your race will end. We are at a standstill, it seems. I will destroy this world before you are allowed to live past this crime."


    "You are weak. You care for this water-based form. We believe our words. You will destroy this layer of the Multiverse. You will be the next Attraction. Find a solution."


    Marilyn''s image raised an eyebrow. "When do you need me dead?"


    "What do you mean?" asked the alien.


    "How many days? Orbits?"


    "You cannot pass one orbit of this planet."


    "I need three-quarter of an orbit. Then, I will be done. You may destroy me on November 22, 2072, on earth''s calendar."


    "You are deceiving us. How can you be destroyed?"


    "You just said everything could be destroyed. That''s your job. I will not oppose you past that day. Let Georges go."


    "How can we trust you?"


    "Index his memory, see my parameters."


    "You have invited humans here. You must covenant to keep them away from us and to prevent them from discovering of our existence. If the humans act against us, we will not wait."


    Marilyn was not enjoying the conversation, but she had to pretend for the moment. "I can hinder their efforts and play with their technology, but I will not physically prevent them from entering your door. If humans walk in, they are your responsibility."


    "Agreed. If they come, we will destroy them. We ask that you..."


    Electoral stopped him. "You ask?"


    "Yes. We ask. Send one hundred of these sentinels to Earth. Send them to creatures of influence." Electoral''s expression changed. She was calculating. On the corner of her lips after finding what would really happen, she bent a smile. In a matter of seconds, she saw their plan.


    "With pleasure," she said. Her facial expression had returned to normal. The sarcasm in her next spoken words was clear, "Anything else? A dessert, perhaps?" She knew they would not get the joke. She no longer cared.


    In a matter of seconds, the sand began to leave the way it had entered. On the ground floated a hundred little puffs of smoke, these were the sentinels.


    Georges returned to his old expression and looked at her, "What happened?"


    "Father, we are at war," she said with a smile.


    "A problem?"


    "No, an opportunity." The last word she said to herself and not to her father ¡°Idiots.¡±

 Chapter 124: The Plan

    Marilyn''s recording of her first direct interaction with the Martians ended as the cameras returned to Sophie. Around her were the scattered contestants and few other houseguests. Everyone knew it was impossible to anticipate the reaction of the young lady, so there was apprehension in the air.


    Images around each wall of the room switched to the fumes arising out of the Valles. In the video, a single steam of the dust had punched through the defenses of the Center. What was now coming was at least five thousand times more dangerous.


    The game''s final rounds taking place on Mars had begun days ago. But today, after the overwhelming cascade of events, nothing was truly shocking anymore. "Shock" was too small, too inadequate a word to encapsulate what humankind was truly feeling. It was too much to digest even for the brightest on Earth. There were too many moving parts for anyone, let alone a twelve-year-old stranded on Mars caring for her father.


    "Sophie?" asked Marilyn. The girl had turned back her attention to caring for her father. All eyes in the room turned either to the girl or the screens showing an invasion. ¡°Sophie?¡± she repeated.


    "Yes?" she said, unaware the focus was back on her.


    "What do you think?"


    She looked up at the Georges. "Did it hurt?" asked the Attractor, bluntly.


    "Not really," he offered, surprised by the question.


    "Good."


    "Would you consider helping us? All of us?" asked Marilyn politely.


    "What do you mean?"


    "Will you help, saving us from the martians? I tried to keep them away for as long as I could."


    Sophie''s eyes widened in disbelief. "I don¡¯t think so." Upon hearing that short answer, the mood inside the room fell.


    Marilyn, who strangely had half-expected it just said "Fine, we must..."


    "Not sure why you think this is my responsibility," interrupted the girl, getting up her stool. She began to pack her father''s things. ¡°Susie, we are going to my room." The physician was in no condition to question Sophie. The girl was biting her tongue. The nurse looked at the pad on her wrist and pushed a couple of buttons.


    "He is doing wonderfully well; he''s improving with each game. These Rho waves seem to be healing his mind."


    "Good,¡± said the girl as she stood up. Sophie¡¯s hands were forming fists. She was really trying to be silent. Sophie did not like to disappoint. She grabbed the plush toy and wrapped the scarf around her forearm. In the silence, Laurent''s automated table undocked from the table and began to roll toward the door. Everyone in the room was speechless.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Georges was about to say something, but the computer quickly tried to shush him."Really?" said the programmer to the girl on her way pass him. Georges wasn''t afraid to speak truth to anyone, including his seemingly omnipotent computerized daughter, either alien in the room, or the Attractor herself. That was the source of his charm. He voiced the concern of millions, if not billions.


    "Really," she confirmed. She stepped to the doorframe.


    Marilyn cringed, she wanted Georges to stay silent. Milly, the CNN journalist, knew better and waited for the protagonists to get her one more ratings record. The Asian journalist had expected to have to create and maintain artificial excitement as two characters battled from different parts of the Solar System. This situation was insanity.


    "Where do you think you''re going?" said the programmer in a rather patronizing way. Sophie knew every eye was on her. Leaving the room without an explanation was rude; these people deserved some explanation. ¡°You left the earth to die, now us?¡±


    The girl stopped and turned to face him. Her body was tensed.


    "You people come here, to a deadly place, a world that kills for having no air, for not having heat, no food, no vegetation. We don¡¯t stick to the ground. You dare talk to me about dangers and dying? You and Marilyn never had the basic decency to wonder if this place was yours to start with. You came here and disturbed them for the sake of holding a game. Wait, while I am at it, have you ever thought about forcing my father, other players, me, the most crippled man alive, to travel here for a stupid game? We tried, like the President, to get out of it. Because I love my Dad and this was all he had left, I was stuck on the cigar ship. That''s fine, right? You know what is your problem? You lost touch with ordinary life. What matters.¡± Sophie¡¯s lack of respect of authority was infamous.


    Without a second of pause, Sophie added, ¡°No one here thinks about these martians, this is their home, their citizens down on mercury. What about the Multiverse? If something is hurting her and it¡¯s probably all of this!¡± she pointed at Georges. ¡°I am twelve, and I am sure of one thing, I will not make peace with the Purple, with these creatures, or anybody else as a matter of fact. You people like war, you like to fight, to hurt. Try making peace.


    "You saw on the same clip as I just did. The Martians think Marilyn is dangerous and should not exist. For all I know, they may be right. The deal made in that recording is between Marilyn and them. They stayed put. Marilyn just broadcasted their existence to the whole world, on every television of every living room. Why not put a neon sign on top of the cavern where they live. Round 29 in their home?¡± She was working herself up. With each sentence, she was getting louder.


    She stopped herself. No one dared to speak. "Daddy can''t feel any of this," she waved around. "He would tell me not to let him be the reason why more people die. He would not want me to start killing martians, that''s for sure and I know if I do anything, you will not like what comes next. I don¡¯t want to come out as a person who does not care for you, my father or the world on Earth. I do care. But if today is our last day, I am ready.¡±


    The girl turned around and walked out, followed by her father, the doctor and several of the flying cameras. Everyone in the room and around the solar system was stunned. The Artificial Intelligence saw waves of the rare waves pour out of the girl''s mind. They were different in shape, sharper. The words made sense but doomed everyone in the room.


    Marilyn broke the silence. "This sounds like the perfect place for a word from our sponsors. Back after this."


    The screens went dark.

 Chapter 125: Awakening

    Paris, Earth


    The human brain, to a degree, has fail-safes that work to protect other portions of itself if it experiences trauma. The information that the mind receives, however absurd, gruesome or uncomfortable can be made to become tolerable. Victims in hostage situations, for example, come to care for and even defend their attackers as their brains forget the horror of their confinement replacing it with a different emotion.


    As Round 28 ended, hundreds of the brightest and youngest minds on earth sat in silence. A chill came over the entirety of the Sorbonne amphitheater where hundreds of scientists tried to digest the importance of what had just transpired.


    There was a shift deep in the solar system. Sophie¡¯s positive waves were now gone and replaced by her frustration. The young men and women felt as though they were powerless observers to a crumbling world, cold rolled in. The Multiverse was hurt, they all felt. Now, no one felt comfortable sitting in the old worn-out wooden seats. The silence was heavy.


    Ahead, the sole Rho chamber was standing straight out of a science-fiction movie. It hummed in the center of the stage. The screens on its side were lit and now rebooting. Emilio slowly returned to consciousness inside of the polymer tube. The last images on the screen above the machine, live from mars, had been disturbing on many levels.


    Floated still two madmen on their way to rescue the 93 creatures on mercury.


    The twelve members of the Scientific Advisory Committee (the SAC) sat hunched on the first row, jaws open or eyebrow raised. Even Francois, his shiny new Fields Medal in hand, had watched the game powerlessly. An army of martian creatures was revolting against the artificial intelligence and the Laurent family ready for an attack. These Elders of the solar system stood ready to kill all the players in the Center and dismantle Marilyn Monroe, who might be the only power capable of understanding what was on her horizon.


    If that happened, Emilio would win the Presidency by default. But no one even thought so far ahead or cared for the true nature of the Electoral 2072 competition. Humanity had learned why Marilyn warned Ronaldo before he entered the ¡®Door¡¯ back in the Valles. There was an agreement; it explained the hundred balls sent to earth and the mission to mercury. A lot of it. But for each answered question, five new ones went unanswered.


    In the room, for the first time since this story began, there was fear. Sophie remained defiant and rejected the insanity around her. She refused to acknowledge the story, choosing instead to play a force of neutrality. Some began to think she feared to step away from her role as guardian to her father. She... was... twelve.... reasoned many trying to justify her inaction. In little over a week, mankind had arrived on mars and learned about the various dimensions of the Multiverse, other alien life, and something called the Sixth Attraction. Now, there were martians, mercurians, purpleites, and a Liam. There was also war, suicide missions, all within the boundaries of the solar system shrunk to human size in a matter of hours.


    The latest twist was strange beyond words. From the digital reality, Laurent spoke to a creature stranded near the sun and warped time itself. None of it made any sense.


    The events were unfolding in rapid succession. The game orchestrated by Marilyn no longer felt like the central driving linchpin of the fall of 2072. It unquestionably did not feel like a flashy, yet simple method to choose humanity''s leadership. She was now using it as a tool, fighting to unfold it for some strange reason against the entire universe. Perhaps her intentions were not genuinely hostile to anything; maybe they were. Marilyn Monroe''s agenda was proving to be as elusive as the technology within the toys she created. In the room, people wrestled to hide their emotions. Knuckles turned white around pens that slowly bent under the pressure. People feared Marilyn¡¯s gift hunching on the corner of each desk.


    The game had just ended, and the two hundred scientists sitting in the amphitheater witnessed Sophie once again turn her back on humanity. Days ago, she''d refused to enter the Purple, a neighboring quantum dimension of the Multiverse. Any time now, heliocorium, a solar magma, would be released into the solar system. Most believed humanity would perish in that eventuality, but the girl had spoken to the Multiverse. All of it only made the future more uncertain.


    She''d just walked out on Marilyn and refused to help protect humans on mars from an invading army. Sophie was no ordinary girl; the Multiverse had chosen well. Laurent''s daughter kept in mind the interest of all parties, including the creatures in the martian cloud or the Multiverse herself. If Marilyn was to be believed, all humans would perish.


    Emilio''s pod door hissed open under considerably less applause and open adoration than the customary avalanche he typically received. Francois and Ka?, Emilio''s assistant, walked out to help the President regain solid footing. His shirt was drenched with sweat, and his knees weak from the influx of Rho waves into his brain. His eyes were slow to focus. Like a runner crossing a finish line, he took several deep breaths. "Fuck," he let slip past his lips. The President grabbed the tumbler, made the ice cubes cling, inhaled deeply and put his lips to the rim. Then, with everyone''s support and respect, he deliberately put it back down. The man knew he still needed his gift now more than ever. He also knew the gesture would send a subtle reminder that they each must remain in control of themselves.


    Before Emilio was able to grab the microphone, everyone in the room looked up feet above his head at the giant screen. He stepped three feet forward and turned to watch the image.


    "Emilio?" said Marilyn centered on the spacious screen. She was not her usual jovial self. The woman¡¯s make-up was gone.


    "Here to congratulate me?" Emilio grabbed the towel and wiped his forehead.


    "You saw the arrival of the martian army, right?" she asked Emilio.


    "Yes. Want me to plug back in?"


    "I don''t think that will be necessary. Frankly, I don''t care what the other players think at this point. I am trying to optimize the situation on mars. Sophie wants no part in it and who can blame her. We all now feel her frustration, that is now the power she yield with her waves. It is imaginable to understand how she must feel.


    ¡°I have several equally bad choices ahead to save what¡¯s left of this group. All of them will permanently destroy something major and valuable. At best, I must destroy the martian ecosystem to kill these invaders. The only path which would have preserved mars required some of Sophie''s," she chose the last word carefully, ¡°magic.¡±


    "How can I help? That¡¯s why you are here."


    "Your gift is unique, it finds low probability paths and places them in the preferential set. To me, a solution is preferable scientifically, but I want to know if you agree with my calculations."


    ¡°You want to know what I think?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you should be honored.¡±


    The mathematicians alone knew what she meant. The computer did not care to explain. "I want you to hear the choices you have lined up and give me your opinion as to each." Emilio smelled the glass.


    "Time is short, Mr. President," she pressed, "very short."


    "Why not play it as Round 29, right now? We play as you, that would be fun, no? In theory, the rules prevent us from talking outside of the game. If that rule is vital, we could at least bypass it that way."


    "We have minutes, not an hour. Even if we played on an alternative compressed timeline, Sophie is worried about her dad''s fatigue and will refuse to plug Laurent back on. Frankly, I agree with her. The last thing I need is to fry what you or he may have left between the ears."


    "What do you suggest?" asked Emilio.


    "I show you a video illustrating my favorite scenarios and you tell me which you prefer." Emilio stumbled quickly to the front row. He stepped down the stage helped by several of the Doctorate students and sat. The game was already stressful, the after-game portion was worrisome, but seeing this hesitation of a creature with an intellect superior to most gods lay somewhere beyond troubling. Emilio made a conciliatory hand gesture, and the images began. This was no time for a debate.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ***


    What came next was not for the weak of stomach.


    Marilyn illustrated each option.


    A moon orbited Mars. "This is Deimos, the second moon. In this first solution, it has a radius of 4 miles, and I need it.¡± A dark point began to spread and invade like a cancer the moon. ¡°My little robots multiply. As the micro-technology is infecting the moon, it replicates exponentially. I have begun as we speak. In ten minutes, this is what should happen if you pick this option. Remember the Presidential Challenge, this is inspired after your flying flesh-eating fish."


    Hundreds of small robots began to dig into the rock and to reproduce. As if struck by a savage cancer, the rock began to crumble and pulverize from within. "We need nineteen quadrillion sentinels." Then the moon lost its shape and flattened. A flow of powder began to fall down to the planet surface below like the cannibal fish had swarmed the forest of Loric¡¯s Comb. Like locusts, the small creatures push down into the clouds of sand formed by the invaders. Then on the screen a battle began, lightning flashed in the skies. "I am unsure of what comes next. My sentinels are designed to absorb grains of sand; they also interfere with magnetic fields and can link to lock in grains. They have five weapons." As she spoke, images flashed on the screen; she had little time to make it watcher-friendly. "This is a classic war and the optimal solution for humans.¡±


    Immediately the images on the screen changed, this time it was a close-up of mining units. "In this second scenario, I send similar robot units to the martian underground lair. I believe the main creatures are not part of the frontal attack. The same way these monsters sent sentinels in the balls down to earth, I can¡¯t imagine these creatures are part of the initial attack of my Center.¡±


    Sand below the surface of Mars began to collapsed creating hundreds of holes across the surface of mars. ¡°There are here too many robots for me to fully control. I can initiate border parameters on them, but the damage as you will see will affect most of the core of the planet.¡± On the screen, the images showed a different color robot, in the shape of a mole began to dig below the ground, to cave and collapse everything around them. Marilyn''s technology began to destroy a significant portion of mars. The Valles collapsed from the inside. ¡°In this solution, I bet these monsters will need to halt their offensive to protect their elders."


    "Those are simple mechanical solutions. Here I fear of too much of mars is hollowed, this could happen.¡± The shape of the entire planet began to crumble and flatten. The Electoral Center, as shown, survived inside of some type of dark bubble. ¡°But a mass collapsing will change the gravity field.¡± Electoral illustrated a gravity shock. It moved and expanded until it hit earth. The clouds moved and water tsunamis rose in some places. ¡°The effects down on earth will be minor. At most four thousand deaths.¡±


    In the room there was silence. The first solution was without a doubt preferable.


    ¡°Let me show you where this gets creative. The third solution is a bit scarier." A small door opened on the on the top of the Electoral Center tower. A black ball of energy began to spin and rise into the sky of the red planet. It passed undisturbed through the cloud formed by the invaders and once above it, detonated with the force of a thousand nukes. Untold megatons of explosive force, coupled with commensurate heat and light. The sand blew and was incinerated and blown away, and most of the Center turned into rubble under the shockwave. ¡°This one kills everyone at the Center except myself.¡±


    At some point, there simply was no word to describe emotions greater than shock.


    "Finally, look at this last solution." Marilyn''s stolen Dot began to move in the void of space. It began to vibrate as it came down over mars. Then it blinked several times. As it did, everything began to rip from the ground and rise up attracted by the singularity. The Dot entered the atmosphere of mars and then the Valles. It drew the floating cloud into it. A third of mars ripped off from its base and was digested by the Dot as if the thing was a portable black hole. "Humans are fragile; all of these high energy, high mass solutions are extremely likely to destroy part or all of human life. The Dot irradiates more energy than a large star. The temperature of the Center will reach 2,000 degrees in seconds."


    Everyone was silent.


    Nothing on the screen made much sense except the first scenario.


    It was apparent to everyone watching that the images were gross oversimplifications, prepared at great haste for the President. The computer was going to war, and those were her options. She could destroy a moon, the planet itself, or ravage the landscape. All eyes turned to Emilio as the broadcast to every living room resumed. Emilio''s mind was stuck. He stood up and looked at the audience. He figured he could ask questions to a handful. He raised his hand, but as he did, the flashes began.


    In what felt to him like an hour, he saw a total of eight hundred and nine visions, about a hundred were partial or altogether black. At first, the images were linked with each of the solutions proposed by Marilyn. The AI was right, each time humanity was collateral damage. The martian creatures adapted and somehow the sand overcame the attack and won. Marilyn was right to worry, she was raging a war against smoke. Each time, she did survive.


    Then, after about a hundred visions, the images began to accelerate, and each time the result was grim. He saw the end of mars, an erupting sun, and the death of all the players hundreds of times. Emilio was standing, eyes wide open on the stage lost in his unique mind. In the room, amazement and hope returned as their leader proved why he existed and that ordinary humans still played a role in these events. His eye movements and hand gestures were the only signs of his visions to this crowd. After about five endless minutes, he tried to shake himself out of the visions; this was going nowhere.


    Emilio felt in his heart this was different. The computer Intelligence was desperate for his help. He closed his eyes and put both hands over his head. It helped. The kaleidoscope of light slowed. Nothing was happening.


    "So?" asked Marilyn in his darkness. "Which one, I need a number, time is short," she pressed.


    There was an unusually long silence. Emilio wasn¡¯t proud of himself, he saw doom, pain and death. He opened his eyes - he needed help. "One moment," he said to the blond. The solution was somewhere in this room. The group was here, he had summoned them without knowing precisely why, now he did. Emilio stood best on the shoulders of giants and these were giants.


    ¡°Help,¡± he whispered loud enough to be heard in the room and around the world.


    In the room there was puzzlement. Eyebrows raised, others opened notebooks. Everyone was thinking hard. Emilio¡¯s strange mind was wondering, moving from one person to the next. Then the room disappeared leaving only one person in the back. His gift allowed him to see her glow.


    ¡°You!¡± he pointed. The small black woman immediately began to cry. ¡°What?¡± he questioned desperately.


    She said one sentence, ¡°Why can¡¯t you guys trust Sophie.¡±


    At that point, he realized Sophie was absent from all the visions. The solution was simple, he wished to see a future which favored her. Emilio frantically searched for Sophie in his mind¡¯s eye but at first was unable to see any future where she stood. He would see Laurent, even the Oldest, but the girl was a ghost.


    "Emilio, I need an answer," pressed Marilyn.


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± began Emilio. Marilyn had no time to waste explaining the obvious. She needed to kick his mind into higher gear. The computer knew Rho waves were out of reach and the man was not really moved by music.


    His watch buzzed. Emilio looked at it and on it was a face, the perfect face of the person he loved the most. Marilyn knew how to awaken a human brain. The image hit him. Emilio closed his eyes, smiled and reopened them. His mind had just given him the solution. "Get Sophie on that screen, now!"


    "I don''t want to disturb her," begged the A.I.


    "This is not a request.¡± Deep within the computer servers, Marilyn relaunched the calculations but this time she used Sophie as the Attractor as the main central variable. During this time, she bothered the girl. In a matter of seconds, Sophie¡¯s face was on the screen. She was sitting, legs crossed on her bed with her favorite book across her lap. Behind her, Laurent rested in his crib under the watchful eye of Doctor Shin.


    "Yes, Mr. President?¡± She had calmed down. ¡°Liam salutes you and your esteemed audience." Sophie was no simple human girl. She now spoke like the wisest and oldest of seniors on Earth. Her voice was deeper.


    "Call me Emilio. Neither of us wants to get involved in Marilyn''s nonsense. I just need to say three words to you."


    "Three words?"


    "Yes. I don''t even know what they mean, but it seems like these strange waves and this game have put my brain on overload."


    "Let''s hear it."


    "Get every Martian."


    Sophie repeated, "Get every Martian?"


    "Correct."


    "That''s it?"


    "Yep. I fear Marilyn will get anxious or nervous. She does try her best to make you and your father feel at home." As the President spoke to the girl, Marilyn saw the Attractor''s mood lighten. Her Rho waves also return to normal. As this happened, the Artificial Intelligence felt the mood of humans across the planet soften. Sophie''s mind shared a link to most individuals. "Please extend my salutations to Laurent; I am truly looking forward to our finale if it ever is held and both of us are qualified." The President was a smooth talker, and he was calming the girl by hitting all the right notes.


    ¡°Sophie?¡± he said to her personally.


    ¡°Yes Mister President,¡±


    ¡°I envy Laurent.¡±


    ¡°How so.¡±


    ¡°I wish I had a daughter like you. Nothing else in this world can bring him more joy. Stop making perfection better.¡±


    The girl could read between the lines. The President reminded her Laurent¡¯s role was as her support, not the other way around. The girl blew a kiss his way and winked. Electoral cut the communication.


    "What about my question, what solution to implement?"


    "You''re going to think I''m crazy, but..."


    "I already do."


    "Touch¨¦, but joking aside, you should now sit this one out."


    "What is going to happen?" asked Marilyn.


    The President said words, famous last words, "She will Attract."

 Chapter 126: Prophecy

    The Lapierre family was resting peacefully in a luxurious bedroom, feet from the large competition amphitheater. They''d arrived at it about an hour ago, but time here felt different. To each of the five (three physical bodies) people in the room, the game had ended quite some time ago. Sophie guessed there was a war out there, high above in the sky and somehow she would be blamed for part of it, but she was resolved not to care. Adults annoyed her and Marilyn acted at times like one.


    She felt, in her heart, like they weren''t in any danger. In fact, she knew it. Saying so would have cemented her role as the Attractor in most eyes. There was only one problem really: Marilyn might be trigger happy and destroy part of this ecosystem in trying to protect everyone.


    Nothing, aside from the lower gravity, made this room different from one located in the northern part of the Indiana where Sophie was born. She knew the walls were like children''s construction blocks made of stacked microscopic robots, but they were covered by screens, and the illusion was perfect. At the moment, the walls seemed to be unevenly painted plaster sprinkled by low-quality frames. On three of the walls were small windows behind which one could see the lush earth countryside. There was a road, a valley, and two rounded hay bales in the distance.


    Sophie kept her eyes open as she spoke to Liam, her internal companion. When Laurent was in the room, she never communicated with Liam inwardly or gave any other indication that she regarded her father as anything less than a whole person. He deserved to hear her conversations, even if the doctors agreed he could not. They had been proven wrong so many times, why not about that? Sophie was no fool; she knew that her dad had long lost his contact with this world, but some things deserved to be ignored.


    For once, the cameras were out, and that didn''t feel right.


    "Marilyn, can you broadcast to people on earth what''s going on here?"


    "Of course," said a distant voice. "The new default setting is one where you are filmed. Please let me know if you want this setting to be changed."


    "Thank you." The broadcast began including at La Sorbonne.


    She was on her back on the bed throwing her white plush dog to the ceiling. She liked the low gravity, on a bed her back barely felt the tissue. It was a bit like floating on a waterbed at home. Thanks to the low gravity, it also took Oscar nearly ten seconds to travel back to her hands. At home, balloons bounced the same way. It was just neat to do it here with heavier stuff.


    "Did you hear him?" Sophie began, speaking out-loud, "He said ''Get Evert Martian.'' The President has never asked me to do anything, he knows better. That means something, right? Should I do what he wants? Is that what Marilyn wants? That must mean to destroy the clouds above, right? Those are the Martians? Is that even possible? I don''t know what to do. Why does he think I can help?"


    Liam waited before interrupting, his boundless admiration for Sophie prevented him from doing so. Finally, he spoke, "Because President Emilio is probably right," whispered Liam.


    "Sophie?" interrupted Marilyn.


    "Yes?"


    "I can read Liam''s words by looking at your retinal reactions. Most of the time, I can translate his words when your eyes are open. The viewers might benefit from hearing his words. May I add them to the broadcast?"


    "That''s a great idea. Any objection Liam?" Everyone knew the Oldest would not oppose Sophie.


    "Overvoice mode enabled," said the Artificial Intelligence. "Sorry for the interruption."


    "Liam, please, go on,¡± said the girl.


    "Yes. As I was saying, Emilio''s words are probably right. You are critical to the Sixth Attraction, but the man is a seer. His words should be weighed carefully, and ignored with great peril. Most seers are verbose, but he told you simply three words. I know humans call the words of a seer prophecy. It is future forecasting and giving variable wording to define alternate futures. I knew we would face one at some point."


    "I don''t understand."


    "Libraries in my world are filled with doctrines about prophecies. Nothing in them make complete sense. The Multiverse does not handle time the way you and I see and feel it. The seer simply sees time more the way the Multiverse really is. I do have a way to teach prophecy that makes some sense. Over the years I have given this class multiple times.¡±


    ¡°Really? A class?¡±


    ¡°My life has been very long. Let''s say that Emilio sees the future and sees that tomorrow your hair is wet, but he does know how it got that way. It may rain, you may take a shower, swim, or someone may have pulled a prank and dumped water all over you. The problem is, I am trying to help you not get your hair wet. If a seer tells you a prank is in your future, you will be careful but it seems like that only shifts the cause, and instead, you''ll get caught in the rain via a different cause.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Emilio works like the Multiverse? He sees a consequence instead of a cause?¡±


    Liam took a moment to answer as he realized the brilliance of the girl. Sophie was learning very rapidly how the Multiverse worked. ¡°Yes, Yes. To alter the future, seers walk a very tight line as multiple causes create the seen consequence. They must not tell you a prank is coming until the last moment to avoid a new consequence to substitute itself. For example, the seer might give a prophecy linked with a cat. He sees your hair will be wet as you open a door on top of which a bucket of water is balanced and about to fall on you, and in that instant, you notice a cat in the room. You step back, and as you do, the bucket misses you. Prophecy serves to alter the cause to consequence nexus."


    "That''s very convoluted."


    "Time manipulation is never easy. It is full of paradox. At each of the Attractions, I have witnessed some type of prophecy. This one is concise: only three words. Emilio tried to help by narrowing down his words. Some seers write full books for a single prophecy. This one is an action, so Emilio wants you to do something which you could carry out in many ways."


    "No killing?"


    "What do you mean, sweet one?"


    "Killing the Martians? Do I need to destroy that cloud? That''s what Marilyn wanted me to do."


    "No. I can promise, there is no killing involved. May I try and assist you in understanding his words and what they mean?"


    Sophie felt like Liam wanted to impress and help her. "Yes," she said, knowing the explanation would be endless. She did her best not to smile, but she figured both Liam and Marilyn would catch it anyway.


    "Prophecies must be read carefully, and we should never step out of the scope of the words. I''ll show you why. I taught many classes on prophecy over the years; I hope I do not oversimplify things too much. Emilio spoke three simple, common words. The first word is a verb, the word ''get'' and not ''kill.'' The prophecy is univocal, just ''get.'' That verb may mean many things: it can mean assemble, transport, hold, and a whole bunch of other more defined verbs. Most prophecies use the verbs ''be'' or ''have'' which can mean just about anything."


    "Like when we use a swear word?"


    "Precisely. Terms like those have many meanings. What does ''get'' mean to you Sophie? In my class we had exercises. Let''s do one. Can you give me a sentence that starts with the word ''get'' and not the word ''getting?''"


    "Get money until retirement," she said after some hesitation.


    "Strange choice. Why did you pick it?"


    "Because that''s why we are here, no? My father is playing to take care of me. He will make an income and then retire."


    Liam did not probe deeper. "So you are using the word get as acquiring, collecting, earning. There are other meanings, but whatever we settle on, the meaning of ''get'' to you must be what your heart thinks it means."


    "That makes sense."


    "The second word is equally meaningful; it is a determiner. The word ''every'' is not a pronoun. Emilio could have used ''the'' pluralized the word martians. That would have been ''Get the Martians'' or ''Get all Martians.'' So we must respect this distinction. Once again, can you do a sentence with the word every in it?"


    Sophie had to think. She finally said, "Get everyone home safe."


    "I love it."


    "What, did I do wrong? I used everyone, not simply every, sorry."


    "No, quite the contrary. Some words have limited versions of themselves. Like you could have used get-out or every-time. You used ''everyone,'' which gives us a subgroup. We are moving along nicely. Now think of a sentence with the word ''martians.''"


    "That''s easy, martians live on mars."


    "Wonderful."


    "You''re just playing with me!"


    "Never. Let''s just say my capacity to help you navigate the Sixth Attraction is very limited. Your world is new to me, and the Multiverse is too complex to understand. But I, being fantastically old, have mastered the rules of prophecy. When we replace the words and meanings, we get something resembling ''collect everyone who lives on mars.'' What does that mean to you?"


    "The ones on Mercury, those are the only martians that are not here. We must get them safely home."


    "There are more."


    "Which ones?"


    "Electoral spoke of many vessels sent by this local culture when this planet shifted position in the solar system. At least one crashed on mercury with survivors. Maybe others survived. There is also a martian on earth right now."


    "What?"


    "Yes. True, you may not know about him. His name is Ronaldo Corvas, and earlier today I saw him speak to the President. He is in a city called San Francisco. He was human and mission leader here a month ago; Marilyn plans to make him the main character of Round 29, which I believe will happen within the next few days. The martians recruited him, in a manner of speaking, destroyed his body, and now he is on earth."


    "Poor guy. Are we done with your explanation? That was shorter than I imagined."


    "One more step. Here, time is essential. You must not think or reason. I will say something, and you must say the first thing that comes to mind, even if it seems unrelated. Ready?"


    "I guess."


    "Fast, you promise?"


    "Yes," said the girl.


    "Get every Martian!"


    "What?"


    "The words are ''Get every Martian.'' Say what comes to mind."


    "Liam, if I wanted to be in class, I would boot my tutor." She could feel his disappointment. "Okay, what came to me was one word. It made no sense." She felt the mood of her companion lighten. He waited patiently. "Tired." She was lying.


    "What do you mean?"


    "This stupid game, this stupid thing called the Sixth Attraction. I''m tired of this crap. I''m like my father. It''s been a very exhausting year and a half. I figured at least on mars I could hide, stay away from everyone and let my father play for a month." Her words touched Liam. Sophie was twelve. She was mature beyond her years, but this entire scenario was no walk in the park. "You know what I really want?" she said in a quiet voice.


    "No."


    She stopped throwing the stuffed dog. She held the words in, along with her tears. She needed to be a big girl. Her father depended on her and if any of this strange situation was true, much more depended on her. "Tell you what, you help me with the prophecy. You will see it. Just warn me, okay?¡±


    There was only one answer he could give. "Of course Sophie. Sorry to have pushed this on you."


    ¡°You want the truth,¡± she asked in silence. As she did Liam felt a wind of emotion and power build.


    ¡°Please do.¡±


    ¡°My mother, she had a saying, ¡®get every man and woman onboard¡¯ each time we would get in the car.¡± Liam trembled with what she was about to say. ¡°Those were her last words to me that night.¡±


    Like deep and thick ice, cracks began to spread thought the fabric of the Multiverse.


    ¡°Prophecy,¡± whispered Liam.

 Chapter 127: Cardinal

    There was a shot pause before the craziness resumed.


    Peace and quiet finally returned to the Solar System as Sophie tried to ignore the words. Down on earth, humans¡¯ worries subsumed to a wall of tranquility. Liam and Sophie, in their room deep inside a bunker of micro-machinesheard a chirping noise; there it was against, and again u til fibers deep in e dry creature in the Multiverse stopped to listen.


    A digital window, on Sophie¡¯s left seemed to open on the wall accompanied mysteriously by a push of fresh autumn air. A very small brown bird landed on the window''s edge and chirped her way to get attention. Liam was shocked by the animal''s simplicity. Marilyn''s power of illusion was breathtaking. Sophie wasn''t sure how, but the bird looked at her the way birds too often do. It¡¯s head moved in quick bursts, and in between heavy heartbeats its eyes locked on her. Lightening hit the Attractor. The creature chipped three times then defiantly flew into the room by magic, fluttering like the real thing. It landed on Laurent''s crib¡¯s edge, then on his scarf inches from his deformed head.


    The bird was really there in the room, as evidenced by Doctor Shin looking at it in amazement. Marilyn had no such power of simplicity. The computer intelligence knew how to do complex, not subtle. The bird sounded and looked like the real thing. Sophie had managed to hold her tears, this meant something.


    The core of the Multiverse, the young Attractor sniffed once, then twice and said to Liam, "Look at its colors, how beautiful." Her words were whispers from deep into the soul of the young orphan. Emotion was bubbling up her throat.


    "The bird I see is mostly brown, do you see more?"


    "Brown is a color. There are beautiful shades of brown." Sophie¡¯s were meant much more, Liam knew and felt this very well. Sophie had a unique way of seeing the world and saying obvious truths.


    "Indeed, brown is beautiful. The bird looks real."


    "Adults don''t like brown; it''s the color of poo." Every second in the Cold, he was thankful. He was next to the Attractor. As the oldest living creature of the Multiverse, he knew his time was short and to savor every minute. It would soon end in a matter of days, but that was fine by him. There was no greater honor or purpose than being with Sophie.


    "What does the bird mean to you?" Sophie asked Liam.


    She needed words, he gave some knowing very well he would stumble. "I see Electoral trying, by all means, to calm you down. She fears your brain waves, and even appears to fear you with a persistence known only by a slave with a stern master. If I was not so old, I would conclude you have the power to destroy her and she cannot, yet, reciprocate. You were emotional a second ago, and you no longer are."


    "We see things very differently."


    "Enlighten me."


    "This bird is called a sparrow, a house sparrow," began the girl. "It''s a very common bird where I grew up. It is here not because she placed it there. It''s my father''s favorite bird. We had five of them living with us at home. The sparrow is a symbol of power and hard work. It was a favorite of Native Americans and frequently found on their totems. It is a signal to me from my father, not sure what signal, but it is from him, not her."If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Liam was silent. He had spoken too quickly. "You think your father is taking over the Electoral interface?"


    ¡°No,¡± she extended a finger. The bird flew on it. It was no digital, it was the real thing. Then the creature returned to Laurent¡¯s side.


    Sophie slid softly off the thick bed and walked slowly to where the bird and her father were. The sparrow was nervous but stayed on the scarf. "You call me the Attractor, and it seems like the way I view the world might be liked by the Multiverse. I think we define those we encounter and whose experiences we share, and vice-versa. My father made me who I am; he lives with me, through me." Liam was surprised to hear those words; they were not coming from the Sophie of just days ago. Her encounter with the Multiverse changed her. She continued, "At a minimum, Electoral is altered by those who play in it. My father and I, President Emilio, and all of the people at home help change her. Yes, I hope he is in Electoral somewhere, and he sent this bird."


    Liam felt a disturbance in Sophie and in the Multiverse.


    The room shifted.


    The Multiverse was here speaking to the girl, he knew it.


    This was magic and way too powerful for the Oldest and wisest creature in the Multiverse to hold his tears. Energy was building, the waves were flowing. Down on earth every human watching was hypnotized.


    Then, it happened.


    Sophie''s next yanked to the left, that opened window. Her expression changed in a heartbeat. A bright red bird, not much bigger than the sparrow flew in and landed on the edge of the opened window. It had a longer beautiful tail. Its beak was black, and it had some black highlights; the rest of its body was the color of fire. Sophie put a hand over her mouth and began to tear up. She locked her jaw, and it started to tremble as the creature acted like a simple bird.


    Down on earth, flows of waves began to reverse. Normally Sophie¡¯s power went out, but this time the energy flow up from the blue planet up as a slap to mars.


    She looked away to avoid what would come next.


    Liam was confused as the bird flew.


    Liam knew better than ask. The red bird looked around and flew next to the sparrow still on Laurent¡¯s scarf. Sophie took a step back and tied in vain not to watch the birds. The Attractor was now ready to lose her composure, she. Began to cry uncontrollably, her cheeks were now wet with rolling tears. Both birds began to court one other, played, and bounced. Both took flight and flapped after each other. Each time, Sophie tried to step back, giving the couple some room. Finally, her back was against a wall and wiping her tears was futile.


    Every was flowing out and in of the. Young girl.


    Liam felt the urge to ask, ¡°Sweet one, what is happening?¡±


    Text scrolled on the wall for Liam from the computer,. She knew Sophie would never be able to answer. ¡°The bird is a cardinal, Sophie''s mother''s favorite. The official bird if the State of Indiana where she lived happily until the accident." The symbolism was clear. To Sophie, these were her parents. They were together one more time.


    "Sophie," said Dr. Shin. She was monitoring Laurents vitals from the device on her forearm. "His activity..." Sophie made a sign to let it go. It was the perfect way for her father to die. She knew he was happy, and tears in her eyes could not stop overflowing. She truly did not care about his physical health at this point.


    The red bird was beautiful. The girl''s composure was shattering; she was sobbing uncontrollably. She tried not to say the next word, she held it in and as she did so, the pain increased. Breathing in was hard and tried to bury her face in the toy. She was twelve, still a girl. Twelve. The bird made another chirping sound at her, it spoke. She looked up. This was not a sight for the weak of heart.


    "Mommy?" she whispered lost in the dead of space.


    There was, for lack of a better word, a detonation in the Multiverse.

 Chapter 128: The Pinch

    What happened next was impossible to understand much less describe.


    The time given to humanity paused.


    The time given to the Cold halted.


    The Multiverse was speaking and it was sheer power.


    Power flooded from and to the Multiverse the way a cascade of cold water hits the rock below it. Invisible energy filled the cold and every other dimension. There was not even a detonation, that implied a source of limited power. Sophie was more and her sadness and despair hit every living creature and more. Life, irrespective of the dimension in which it existed, stopped to heed a master.


    To everyone, the feeling was one of standing on a hilltop witnessing a solar eclipse for the first time and unable to move. Greater matters were in play and humanity was not in charge. Everyone was a spectator, nothing more. One creature was alone on the center stage. There was no fairness or reason, this was the third wave of attraction.


    The energy was different, warmer and softer than when she last spoke to the Multiverse after kicking in the rusty doors of her worst memories.


    A force of pure uncontrolled emotion swept the world.


    Next, the game was no more, the world was gone and so was every creature. Instead were primal things like emotions, primary colors, and music. The physical reality was gone. The time for living ceased, now the Multiverse awoke. People felt connections to friends, family, and the world. They were being blessed with greater things.


    In the darkness, an alien music echoed and became everything. It replaced matter, time, and even light. Every consciousness now floated and beat to the same pulse. In the darkness of only the Cold was a single tenor male voice, supported by a flawless symphony orchestra and piano. The voice was pure. Each soul felt the music was written for them alone, but it made their hearts and minds vibrate in unison. Sophie had opened a door that every life had crossed. As the song continued the voices were not gaining in intensity, instead the words (different for everyone) were ripping bare the inner souls. This was rape of the soul.


    In moments, the energy became so strong it felt like standing under a waterfall knowing the fight was pointless. The sound rose and rose until there were no eyes left to cry with, no bodies with which to shiver. The energy poured in and pushed against every fabric of every being of the Multiverse. One by one life abandoned itself to the power. This was different and if today was the end of the world, everyone agreed, this was the perfect way to go.


    After the abandonment, everyone felt like he or she had a purpose: it had to be here, absorbing the energy and returning it tenfold like a drum. This moment was heaven to the believers and life after death for the others. The experience was surreal and gave purpose and meaning to all.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    As if it was possible, the music increased in intensity and after the first movement, another began. The beautiful, uniting music played for a long time. As time passed, the feeling of purpose increased. A female voice replaced the male voice. She helped push the energy to a new level. The third wave was a duet of the two voices. The instruments rejoined, and there was at time resonances, then silences. Humans were powerless, but quickly began to understand what this was: Attraction.


    As the song played, emotions were being pulled from them like a dentist removes teeth. Visions began to flash in the darkness. These were orchestrated to render the watcher powerless. A grown man would see himself as a baby, his mother kissing him as the music punched a hole in any defense he had. No one could remain stoic watching the one hundred happiest moments of their life. The visions were too much. They were build to overwhelm. They did.


    Every human mind in the Multiverse was hurting for having no outlet. Tears made sense; they were the body''s way of coping with too many emotions. Dreams now made sense; they were airstrips where emotions rested during the day taking full flight at night.


    This lasted for an unknown period of time as time here wasn¡¯t relevant.


    ***


    Then the Multiverse bent. In everyone''s heart, they saw Sophie floating like a lifeless body in water. Then the sight showed the poor girl was sitting in the back seat of the car, strapped in minutes before the fatal accident. Everyone felt the horror. They had been forced to watch this senseless scene several times, one more was torture. The invisible tears turned to pure frustration. It was like a lover tied to a chair, watching the object of that love be brutalized in ways too horrible to explain.


    The music tripled in power.


    The car holding the Lapierre family drove off the cliff. Minds went wild. Everyone struggled to yell, to warn, to do something. The energy created by everyone listening to the music poured forth in the form of light. The energy resembled a human soul charging into darkness, only to light it brilliantly with its shapes. This time Sophie has not travelled with two companions, she tagged along all living creatures.


    Lines of light started spiraling in the vacuum and darkness. The car crashed. The trunk entered the side door, killing Sophie''s mother and unborn brother. There were no mouths to cry out with, no fists to shake in agonized rage, only the golden energy pouring out from the world''s frustration and merging with that of the voices singing. Laurent was impaled and died. Young Sophie was yelling and crying from her back seat.


    The least and most powerless creatures of the Multiverse were participating. On earth, animals, vegetal life, even water-based life in the oceans bled gold energy. Everyone was now able to help. They gave their raw energy, to some they prayed.


    A river of light was created fueling out of the young girl.


    Finally, the music paused, the visions stopped. Everyone was obviously drained of any emotional energy. The Attractor had drained them of every piece of emotional energy. The gold light formed a strange structure, like a giant knot in a long tube. It bent, if bent then the knot closed.


    Time itself ¡ª pinched.


    The Multiverse did what it could to save her Attractor drowning in sheer power, it gave her time and took it away from herself.


    Like on a long road in the darkness, going to the horizon, going to a point ahead, three points of light formed along the way. Behind were also points. Then the visions rushed ahead to the next point of light. The Multiverse moved Sophie forward two days when next she would be happy. So the power went there with her in tow. It stopped the dance of cause and consequences just long enough to blink.


    ***


    Reality shifted.


    Time warped.


    There was a knot in the fabric of the Multiverse.


    Time pinched.

 Chapter 129: Drain

    When lights and reality returned the music was gone.


    Every living creature without exception was at a different location, wearing different clothes. Life was back but everyone was obviously at a different time somewhere in the future. Most were watching television and were already connected to the Electoral 2072 system. Gone was the visions of Sophie in her bedroom watching birds.


    The fourteen remaining players of the Electoral 2072 competition were in their respective tubes on mars in the large amphitheater of the Electoral Center. This time only fourteen Rho tubes shared the stage in a semi-circular configuration around Laurent''s Rho cradle. The cripple was hooked-up by metal plates each side of his brain to the system. Laurent was ready to play. Next to him stood Sophie, his daughter. She was wearing a different t-shirt. The unqualified players, who ranked 17th to 32nd at the end of Round 28 were sitting patiently behind the contestants in a large room. Everyone was staged in place awaiting for the game.


    Georges was sitting at his desk in a corner. On the screen, Marilyn stood ready to launch Round 29 normally scheduled in two days. On the screen, the Artificial Intelligence was dressed as an old NASA astronaut over the rocky landscape of her adopted planet. Behind her stood the lean dark spike of her Center. Everything was set for Round 29 to begin. There was even a countdown set in Milly¡¯s ear by her producers and it was nearing zero.


    Everyone in the room, with the exception of Sophie looked at each other with shock and dropped from mental exhaustion. They had all visibly no recollection of arriving where they stood but everyone was tired and now drained of mental energy. Two were able to stand up in surprise only to fall to the floor. The strange experience of communion with the Multiverse felt like a fading dream. Electoral also was surprised and she stopped the count as the screens.


    Slowly, everyone¡¯s energy was returning quickly. There was complete shock in the room. The computer launched calculations. As Marilyn tried to understand this strange situation, Georges jumped up from his chair. "Who?" he yelled out loud as if he had seen a ghost. He removed an ear plug. The man did not seem exhausted.


    "What is going on?" asked the image of Marilyn to her father from the closest screen. She pause the game and all of the billions of viewers.


    "There is a voice inside of my head,¡± said Georges.


    "Who?" asked the Computer.


    Georges was silent as he was having an internal conversation with the voice. "A man named Ronaldo Corvas. He is here with me."


    "Sophie?" said Marilyn with a very kind voice, "what just happened?"


    "Why should I know,¡± said the young guardian rather surprised. ¡°Is there a problem with Daddy?¡±


    Marilyn paused the countdown. In a human heartbeat, the creature compared the trillion of bites of information in her memory with those a few days back. She looked at sensors, probes and even orbital inclines.


    ¡°Yes!¡± answered Georges to his internal visitor.


    People around the room were sitting back down. Marilyn having to fill in the void on the screens spoke, "In what appears to be a strange phenomenon, we jumped ahead in time and we are now November 3rd. When I say we jumped, I can confirm the past two days have indeed happened, we simply have no memory of them. Our collective consciousness has moved ahead in the time-stream.¡± Marilyn added, ¡°The light points we saw last seem to be my founds of game. Rather exhilarating.¡±


    Electoral on the screens smiled and unclipped her helmet. There was a hissing sound as air left the suit. In her digital world, she was a goddess. ¡°This is awesome!¡± She said with the excitement of a young child. Her eyes were deep and tired. ¡°Let me explain for my new secret love,¡± she looked at the screen and said silently ¡°that¡¯s you Francois.¡± She used subtitles to make sure the mathematician grasped each of her words.


    The blond walked a couple of steps on the martian landscape until she stood next to an old music record player on it wobbled a flat piece of dark petroleum. ¡°Remember these?¡± She pulled her gloves off as if she stood on earth, put them on a table and with her fingers picked and pulled out a record with its square protector. On it was the face of a man eyes closed.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°These are music records from the 20th Century. Some DeeJay still use them to scratch in clubs. On it,¡± the camera moved to illustrate the lines, ¡°are multiple songs each inscribed as lines forming a tight spiral. Between each you can see a darker region.¡± She slipped the record on and cranked the handle. Then with caution, she pulled the needle up, the music stopped and she dropped the needle next to it and the song resumed at a different spot. ¡°To us, puny humans time evolves linearly the way this song plays, one note at a time. We have no way of seeing anything different. But that¡¯s not how the Multiverse sees time.¡±


    The view closed in. The viewers saw a close-up of the needle, moving between two crevices making the needle vibrate which in turn made sound. ¡°This is what Sophie just did.¡± Electoral hit the needle. It sent the head up and it landed on a different track. A different song was playing. ¡°Sophie¡¯s patience for this entire circus called the Sixth Attraction is running short. She moved us in the future but like this,¡± she pointed at the record. ¡°Sophie can¡¯t travel time, she can only translate us to a point of her choice. The past two days happened to her, not us.¡±


    On the screen she looked at Sophie standing next to her father, ¡°Sophie, you did not just land here, right?¡±


    ¡°I guess,¡± she confirmed. ¡°You did not see what happened with the sand people?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Foreal? That¡¯s stupid, I saved you guys after all and you did not see it?¡± Doctor Shin confirmed. ¡°Ten minutes ago you told everybody about it, you don¡¯t remember?¡±


    ¡°No. The good news is that the cloud of invaders is gone from above the Center. The planet is two days ahead in the orbit and I have yet to understand how she saved us.¡±


    "Daddy is ready for the game, I will return to the room with him if you are not doing it. Everyone looks tired. Let me know when you want us back. This is getting weird," she said nonchalantly to one of Milly¡¯s cameras. ¡°Everything you do is always such a big deal.¡±


    ¡°Please stay,¡± said Marilyn to Sophie. ¡°Give us a minute to land on our feet. We saw this point in time must happen for you.¡± The Artificial Intelligence had the power to digest insane amounts of information and knew there was no need for delay. "I can confirm the Valles is stable, the sand and these idiotic inhabitants are awaiting patiently in the bottom of the rock formation.¡± On the screens the images were those of Marilyn watching a television screen with remote control in hand. She was watching images recorded from these last days. Few things made her pause, yet this was surprising even to her. ¡°The entire simulation I have prepared is ready and in my memory banks. Let''s run with it,¡± she finally said. She made a sign to everyone to sit down and relax.


    Georges was talking to himself in a corner.


    The computer intelligence was slowly awakening from a torpor and needed to fill the void. ¡°Let me explain something important. Stephen Hawking, a dear physicist postulated a theory early in the 21st Century of what he called relative time. The poor man, much like Laurent was locked early in his life in a fading shell of a body. He postulated that if space could be warped by gravity, so could be time. Before his theory, the only variation of time possible was a natural dilatation between observers moving at relative times. One man holding a clock in a slow train would see the clock of another man moving much faster go slower. Einstein postulated gravity waves, ripples in the fabric of space could also create some mild changes in the way time moved between two people. The brilliant man imprisoned in his dying body argued there might be more dimensions and time might actually act like space. The poor man was half right but on the right path.¡±


    Marilyn as she spoke was clipping the gloves of her space suit back on. ¡°Actually time, as perceived by life was a minor construct to help minds make sense of a reality. The same way a nose only smells variations in the sent, a living mind needed a timeline - a start and an end. But no such thing existed to the Multiverse. The Multiverse loved the man humanity called Hawking. She tried to keep him alive as long as she could but humanity¡¯s lifespan was short when this great mind existed. The Multiverse let him go but found interest in the notion of a bright mind locked in a husk of a body. Hawking is, if you ask me the reason why Laurent is a cripple. Sophie¡¯s power bent the Multiverse like a rope forming a noose. We now have evidence all segments of time, like every note of the songs on that record coexist at the same time.¡±


    Marilyn put her helmet back and as it pressurized. Talking through the suit¡¯s clumsy speaker she warned, ¡°Now for the bad news, the heliocorium has started pouring out of the sun and is creating a long rope cooling in space moving toward our vulnerable orbits. On earth genetic mutations have started happening at a faster rate for the benefit of mankind. Takeda has already saved a couple of thousand people. Christian¡¯s mission happened, was a success thanks to our players and it is now over. Their bodies have been destroyed and the aliens stranded on mercury are traveling back to mars. We will return to it soon, but to avoid another unfortunate jump ahead closer to the Sixth Attraction, if you don¡¯t mind, let¡¯s give Sophie what she wants to see.¡±


    She blew a kiss.

 Chapter 130: Break

    November 3, 2072


    18 days to the Sixth Attraction


    Normally the start of any round was preceded by a long video introduction. This one wasn¡¯t. The excitement and the media exhilaration was mostly subdued. Left were boring colors, low quality film and no sound track. Marilyn (and the rest of the world) had just been drained of emotions; there was a general feeling of laisser-faire and exhaustion. Personally, Marilyn found it hard not to throw in the towel. Over the last week alone, as she tried to shelter the girl and her father and all the thanks she received was to be kidnapped, thrown against her will into the Underworlds. Now her memory banks were jumbled as time was - what could only be called pinched.


    Deep in her systems, Marilyn felt, for the first time in many months vulnerable. The cell-phone given by Ronaldo to LO was on its way way to mars in the ship transporting Sophie¡¯s favorite singer. Outside, in the Valles the monsters were surely regrouping. A year ago, as she set the calendar of Electoral 2072, she half expected the pain but as the days to the Sixth Attraction fell like dominos, apprehension was transforming into fear and vulnerability. Only eighteen days remained until the end. She knew the girl¡¯s power would grow exponentially as the fracture of the Multiverse approached, but there was no controlling this raw and unpredictable power.


    Happy birthday to her, she told herself. Marilyn shocked the world when she resorted to asking Emilio for guidance. The prophecy worked and somehow the martians were back in their stupid hole in the ground. She wondered how but there was no time, she needed to run the prepared scenario of Round 29.


    Billions were now plugged ready to play the next round of Electoral 2072 and for the next hour, her power would be stretched running the game. Scrubbing the memory would have to wait. There was no time to relive the archives to understand what just transpired but one fact was true, Georges¡¯ mind now hosted Ronaldo. Minds were pairing, first Laurent and Mall-ik, then Sophie and Liam, and now Georges and Ronaldo. From her cold and structured digital world, there was an easy extrapolation at hand. As the game neared the quarter final and eight players would remain, there would be in the real world four people with a total of eight minds.


    She collected herself and the broadcast began, "What''s the Multiverse?" began Marilyn walking on the Martian landscape. "Thanks to the cascading events surrounding the Sixth Attraction, we are each starting to understand more about this," she raised both hands to the sky, ¡°complex world. Long gone is the childish notion hinted by science of a cooling ball of organic matter. Also gone is the theologian¡¯s view that a fatherly figure, we call God orchestrates the world we play in.¡±


    Sophie looked at the sad start of the game. Something to her was wrong. The computer was tired and that was not what Sophie wanted. The teen looked at Georges who shared her concern. Everyone in the room seemed drained. He shook his head from left to right in displeasure like a parent unhappy by a child¡¯s sport performance. On the screens, Marilyn stopped talking to the world and looked directly at the girl as is she knew Sophie had to say or do something. On each screen, viewers saw Sophie and Marilyn observe each other.


    The young lady in the odd silence stood up and looked around the room. Minutes ago the mood was upbeat and excited. Now, the live audience seemed tired, eyes had darker circles. They felt drained.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she asked Liam with her internal voice.


    ¡°Time, it jumped for all of us. It did not obviously for you. I was in your bedroom, we saw the birds and in a strange flash, we all woke up here.¡±


    ¡°People are tired?¡±


    ¡°In sorts. Not physically but emotionally as if they had a hard fight with a loved one. You are the Attractor. You appear to be immune to many pains of the Multiverse.¡±


    ¡°I fear Daddy won¡¯t like his game.¡±


    ¡°The... dynamic seems off.¡±


    She looked at Marilyn.


    The eyes locked. ¡°I am getting better at this,¡± she spoke. Marilyn was nervous. She felt the girl was ready to do something. Without a word, the young just girl finally made her mind and she just smiled. If she was the source of energy, she needed to help. ¡°You can do it,¡± she said to Marilyn, ¡°cheer up. I love your game. You give dad pleasure and that is true to everyone.¡±


    Notes of a piano filled the silence. The energy Sophie normally poured in her father curved in the air and slammed invisibly into the monitor. Marilyn alone saw the power flood her systems like a blood transfusion. The girl¡¯s power was growing by the moment. Sophie sat back down, kissed her father.


    ¡°What have you done?¡± asked her silent companion.


    ¡°You will see. I think I am starting to understand how all this works. It¡¯s rather simple actually.¡± Sophie had used the power as if it was an afterthought. The Attractor was finally here.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Liam¡¯s pride in his protege reached new heights.


    ***


    A second later there was a drastic change in the mood of everyone in the Multiverse. On each screen, the Artificial Intelligence was standing in a beautiful evening gown on a dark marble platform. It floated in a rich and colorful space filled with galaxies, stars and gas formations. Beauty and energy had returned. The distant deep voice of a DeeJay spoke over the music, ¡°This is radio C.O.S.M.O.S, we are now taking special requests.¡±


    ¡°Hi,¡± said the voice of a young boy calling in.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name young man?¡±


    ¡°Mall-ik, I have a special request for my sister and her father.¡± His words were part of the musical introduction. ¡°Radio waves,¡± sang a chorus of youthful voices.


    The music played louder, ¡°Your father,¡± corrected the voice. ¡°What¡¯s their names,¡± asked the DeeJay as part of the growing introduction of the music.


    ¡°It¡¯s Sophie and Laurent. The Lapierre family.¡±


    ¡°And what is the request.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a long song, a record.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the name?¡±


    ¡°Radio K.A.O.S. from a man called Roger Waters. Daddy loves it, he listens to it all the time.¡±


    ¡°What a great choice, very apropos.¡± The music introduction was growing in strength. ¡°That¡¯s a song called Radio Waves, we now have Mall-ik on the line.¡±


    Images zoomed on the screen. The movie star was regenerating on the screen. The music for once was not generated by the artificial intelligence but from the outside world. Marilyn was drinking the sound making her stronger by the second. The camera angle was moving and rotating around her. Marilyn¡¯s gloom passed as she felt the boundless kindness of the young girl. She, this machine, was powerful and had an important role to play. The only person who did seem to care of the regeneration of the world was the girl who already was back caring for her father. Sophie was different, more mature in her caring for the progenitor.


    ¡°You will be great,¡± she whispered to her father. ¡°Make this fun.¡±


    Georges was managing having to ignore a voice deep in his head, but he saw the girl¡¯s magic. In a heartbeat, she had jolted his creation back to her old self. Sophie was learning how to control her power and more importantly, for the first time was using it for the good of mankind; or at least of her father.


    Marilyn was now back to her radiant self as the first song concluded minutes later, she spoke. "We all accept the notion that each of us," she pointed at her arm, "are made mostly of emptiness. Science tells us we are made of very small electrons, protons, and other sub particles. Yet we are not shocked to learn of how distant each of our atoms are to each other. Think about it, if you were the size of an atom, standing on one, how far would be the next atoms? The answer is very simple. Look at this!¡± She pointed to the cosmos around her. ¡°The distance between two atoms is the same as the distance between two stars. But here is the twist, the low density of our atoms creates void yet this does not prevent us from being solid to the touch. I ask, why would an extremely large formation, made of the know Universe not also be solid?"


    A glass of champagne appeared in her hand. She took a sip. "Think about it." She took another sip. "Really, think about it. Humans, and even the other worlds of the Multiverse like to think we are the largest structure, how can anything else make sense, right? If we admit the theory of the extremely small and extremely large, our brains ask the paradoxal question, why is there an upper and lower size formation. If we imagine an infinite size of things, both in the small and the large, we are faced with the same paradox as time."


    She finished her glass. ¡°Scale, that¡¯s the first barrier to understanding the Multiverse. We know Mall-ik comes from a quantum world, compared to us, his body fits in an atom. What is our galaxy not a small structure or also part of a solid one? The second barrier is time. What came before, what is after?"


    "So think about it, time and space cannot really be as we perceive them with our eyes or nothing makes any sense. Think about that as we start the next Round. Each of you saw a piece of what is greater than us as part of the Underworlds. All of you want a purpose in life, you wonder why you are here. For a moment, each saw that you are part of a whole, a larger structure. Next week before Round 30, we will have more about that.


    "I do have some good news. As I review the logs of what transpired these last two days, the mrcurian mission was successful thanks to the players guidance as to Round 28. Christian Maltais crash landed, followed the roadmap and every creature was shot toward mars with one exception. The joker''s first launch was the consciousness of the Chairman which he sent to earth. As part of the last ball, he sent himself here. The balls seems to be able to use some type of sailing technology and speed themselves. They should be here in a couple of weeks, no need to tell you on which day. Ronaldo Corvas also joined us here on mars and now is in George''s mind. Trent back on earth is back to his old self. So yes, all of the martians are being gathered here." She winked at Emilio and his short-lived prophecy. The moon is still intact and so is this planet.


    "As for the bad news, the heliocorium has started being ejected from the sun in the shape of a long streak of matter and not a ball. This spaghetti hardened in the cold of space is moving toward earth. Strange conditions and mutations are increasing in frequency thanks to Takeda¡¯s virus. The burning solar magma should get to earth during the Finale on November 21. Here is a reminder of what the next rounds will look like."


    Round 30 - 8 players - Quarter finales (November 7)


    Round 31 - 4 players - Semi finales (November 15)


    Round 32 - 2 players - The Sixth Attraction (November 21)


    We will begin immediately at the request of our little guest, but if anyone is like me, we will now have an extra long commercial break so everyone can get a stiff drink. In case anyone cares."


    The following scores scrolled.


    President Emilio Sanchez - 2,566 points


    Laurent Lapierre - 2,524 points


    Marie Lalancette - 2,121 points


    N''Bele Abukaye - 2,120 points


    Julian Velev - 2,119 points


    Fianc¨¦ Lee - 2,119 points


    Ji-Ing Po - 2,118 points


    Bukoye BoLi - 2,117 points


    There was a 20 minute long commercial break. On the upper corner was a countdown clock. Marilyn tried and failed to pretend like she was untouched.

 Chapter 131: Communion

    Few events ever touch a person¡¯s soul. A brush with death, a traumatic event, a victory at the Olympics, or even the lost of a child will. Such needles of life send a ripple so profound in a person, no amount of logic or reason can shield from the resulting scars. These forces change a person. What had just happened, a moment which one day (if history would be given a chance to exist) would be called The First Collective Communion changed every human.


    People in their homes stayed silent and immobile for several long minutes. The early prelude to the Sixth Attraction was playing like a violin¡¯s strings within the heart and soul of every living being in every dimension. The Multiverse or Sophie had sucked dry the energy out of people and now they were being refilled by the warmth of a young girl. Humanity¡¯s reservoir of emotion had been toyed with, like a cheap pool, emptied overnight. Whatever had just happened, humanity would never be unable to fully understand it.


    Babies in their cribs were silent, eyes open at the ceiling above them. Puppies were immobile sitting next to their bowls of water. This was the jolt of energy, which served as a proverbial slap across the face humanity needed. Billions of selfish individuals had awaken to an understanding of universal consciousness. Life, as most understood it, was over. Today, on November 3, 2072, began a new era. Adolescence of mankind was over.


    This made the lost of a parent, a failed suicide attempt or even an overdose a stale page in the larger book of their lives. On CNN, both of the anchors had lost their jovial smiles. The naive happiness had been replaced with maturity. Billions had, at once, snapped out of puberty and were entering a scary lonely adulthood on a blue rock called earth. Science was no longer a quirky passion of some, it was the key of survival as a species.


    Upon Sophie¡¯s arrival on mars, Marilyn had taken extreme care not challenging the girl. She had insulated the Rho wave anomaly from the normal worry of living and created a pampered nest at her Center. Everyone now knew precisely why. She was now so powerful, seeing chipping birds had sufficed to detonated the girl into a bomb of Rho waves. The waves were sufficient to create a bubble of space-time around her. Already, the young guardian''s power was beyond human imagination and they were weeks from her birthday. Sophie had just shown to a species, hers, what it meant to be the Attractor. She was no longer a sweetheart or a human. Sophie was no longer a tool, a savior, or even a destructor.


    On the screens, she stood silent next to Laurent, holding her plus toy under her armpit and talking to her silent companion in her head. The simplicity of the physical world around her vanished. Everyone watched Sophie with a new set of eyes. Sophie was in charge of what came next - not Marilyn.


    God forbid the girl was truly upset. The word ¡°attraction¡± was now starting to make sense. Things and events attracted to her. She would be the center.


    This had been Sophie''s third use of the strange power. The first occurred when Marilyn played music and the computer grabbed the Dot from Liam¡¯s world. The second time Sophie smashed a memory deep inside herself and travelled to the Underworlds. She spoke with the Multiverse itself who gave her guidance. This time, to launch her power, she saw a bird which reminded her lost mother.


    Family members looked at each other on a couch unable to talk. In the streets, strangers hugged each other without a word as if it could bring some comfort. Everyone was drained of mental and emotional energy, but somehow that wasn''t a bad thing. Today, Marilyn was no longer a goddess, she was just the first artificial intelligence.


    But there was, underneath the facts a new reality, emotions mattered. They were the fuel that powered the Multiverse; who could have guessed. Emotions had always been seen as undesirable and to be controlled. The human species had wrestled for centuries trying to understand the mind and instead settled on understanding the body. Today a lot made sense. Love, hatred, despair or even hope drove the purpose of human life in this Multiverse.


    In hospitals, nurses entered rooms of dying patients grinning from ear to ear. Death and life finally made more sense. There was satisfaction in learning there was purpose to life. Disease was just a biological road bump. In churches, priests were sitting on benches having to cope with the magnitude of what they had witnessed. They also were oddly satisfied. They had known, deep inside that life was more than the sum of its parts. The teachings and saints were false but the statues overlooking the parishioners felt like guides who forecasted part of this beauty.


    There was no god, but that did not matter. There was something else, something bigger and larger.


    Sophie and Liam were in agreement, the Multiverse was in pain, it needed help and something was killing it. The mere notion that a young girl, however smart, could bear on her shoulders the weight of healing our world was beyond imagination.


    Across the Multiverse the bell of the Sixth Attraction had rung. There was fear everywhere. Unless Sophie was successful, doom was coming.


    Then, slowly, everyone was back in front of a screen. It was unclear if viewers had a new role to play in what came next, but no one cared. The game had shifted from an election tool to Marilyn''s feeble attempt at managing this insane situation. The Sixth Attraction was here, life would probably end the same way Laurent was at the doorstep of death. Electoral 2072 resumed and the normalcy on the game felt refreshing.


    Electoral 2072 - Round 29


    -- The Door --


    The colorful images flooded the airwaves. Unlike the previous rounds, the billions did not slip on the glasses or the contact lenses to be entertained; everyone felt they might have a role to play in the Sixth Attraction and there was no discussion as to everyone¡¯s need to help. This time Marilyn¡¯s system did not suck in the Rho waves out of the mind of the viewers, instead they were ready to be freely used. Humanity had learned one thing, the mind adapted quickly to this new power.


    Round 29 would be mostly educative.


    Today was cold and rainy. The white cloud cover was low. Marilyn was standing in the center of a stoned entryway of a famous Church a thousand yards above the North Sea in France. She was wearing a 12th Century Franciscan hooded Monk''s robe. It covered her in full except for her red lips. Flags harboring the standing lion of the Duchy of Normandy flew on hundreds of wooden poles surrounding the large courtyard high in the air. The view was majestic. The only anachronistic touch were a handful of Electoral 2072 flags hidden amongst the flapping others.


    Today''s weather, like most here was cold, damp and windy. Behind the Monk stood the massive cathedral of the Mont St-Michel. The roman doorway was mostly closed with the exception of a small door at the base of this fortified wall. Instead of a wooden door commonly used in the period was a reproduction of the pitch black ¡°Door¡± reported to be located at the base of the Valles Marieneris. This was where Ronaldo Corvas and his team had entered months ago to lose their lives.


    Marilyn stood on the center of the large stone courtyard. The cinematography, as usual, was magical. An falcon circled high in the stormy sky and held the camera viewpoint. Below, in the city were crawling working commoners and pious gents. The North Sea had receded an hour earlier leaving the mud bed, the deadly natural protection around this magnificent mountain spiking out of the bay. In one area, between the Mont and the land, a long winding stone road held the braver horses from sinking as they pulled thick-wheeled carts. The City State was magnificent from all angles.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Once the credits and the opening song were over, the bird flew down and spiraled until it landed on the leather brace of Marilyn''s extended arm. In her trademarked dramatic fashion, the camera caught one shaded eye, her lips and she lowered her hood to reveal a face was without make-up and her natural brown color.


    "Welcome back to you and my sixteen players." She untied a parchment attached to the falcon''s paw and handed the bird the to a waiting page. "That was, to put it mildly, sobering. Hard to return to reality after what we just experienced. I warned everyone, we are not playing for half the marbles. As you now know, I have been trying to avoid strain on Sophie for now obvious reasons. When her powers began to manifest themselves, back in the Airbus, I quickly got her to my Center away from potential situations which might accidentally set her off. As we near November 21, her powers will continue to increase. It has only been a week and weeks still remain to the final. You heard me right, I think she has just begun to connect with the Multiverse. This road will get much bumpier before it evens out. So I am asking everyone here to exercise restraint in overreaching any conclusion. Things are complicated as you can imagine."


    "We are moving on our perceptive timeline to the Sixth Attraction. We now have nineteen days left and three rounds of the game. That assumes we no longer jump ahead in time as we just did collectively. Round 29 promised to be amusing. Initially, I had you tag along over the shoulder of Ronaldo Corvas, played by the remaining players past the Door in the nice Cosmos outfits we used in Round 24." She pointed behind her. "The man''s body along with his team was vaporized last month. As we have now learned, Ronaldo both discovered the martians on behalf of mankind but somehow also joined them. Thanks to Sophie''s gift for reuniting people, Ronaldo was transferred into Georges'' mind from his earth host. Turns out their invasion plan included taking over Georges¡¯ mind to blackmail me. The invading force receded and is now planning their next move. After the game, we will try to talk with him directly."


    "The players will be playing a man named Gerard, a wonderful cook working as we speak at the Holiday Inn hotel. His vision is exceptional and without my involvement, he would have been the first to discover naturally the Door. The players, in a bit of an action intensive scenario will be discovering these rather disrespectful neighbors of mine. As each of you still slowly return to this difficult reality, some excitement may be what the doctor ordered. So please excuse our disrespect for inertia, velocity or other engineering rules which I plan to trample with great impunity to make this a fun story." She winked and read the small rolled up scroll.


    "Before we begin, let me try and offer reassuring guidance as to what lies, in theory, ahead of us. There was excitement in keeping the game unknown and for me to keep the unfolding close to my.... robe. But I see most now have joined a more mature nature of being. From this point on, a degree of certainty should help everyone navigate this complex situation.


    ¡°The next round will be played by the qualifying eight remaining players, we will be going back to earth. A virologist named Takeda released a strange virus which actually utilizes the shift in our Universe''s bias laws. The virus, which I named the God Virus and its effects will help all of us understand the what comes next: the Great Curvature. We will enjoy uncovering the META plot to destroy earth. Plasma and heliocorium will proverbially rain on them. Once the game ends today, the medias should start talking about strange transformations and effects perceived in some humans. Do not be alarmed by them, on November 7, thanks to Electoral''s Round 30, we will understand what bias shifting means. That will be exciting, I promise."


    "On November 14, a week later, we leave our solar system and complete our understanding of the strain caused by the Great Curvature, as our four semi-finalists play Sophie and the Oldest in pairs as they travel back to the world of the Oldest to understand what is the Dot, how data moves over the network located in the Underworld. The Oldest will help Sophie broaden her understanding of what he knows of Multiverse. They will help us understand non-linear time, higher dimensions, and yes his theory of consequences to cause. Round 31 will help us understand the concept of multiple worlds, and higher dimensions."


    "Finally, the Sixth Attraction will happen on November 21 during or after Round 32. I have named it The Sixth Attraction because frankly nothing else made sense. Unless something very strange happens, Laurent and Emilio have scored enough points to battle it out in the finale. Both men will play. Let''s wait until I reveal the content. What I can promise you is that you will enjoy this game and so will Sophie."


    ¡°Young girl,¡± Marilyn looked up and spoke directly at Sophie who watched her from the Center. ¡°Let me reveal your birthday gift. Humans will now understand my initiative of trying to control your power and avoid you destroy our Solar System before the grand finale.¡±


    On the screen was a strange scene. The musicians from the band of LO were floating in a large ship. They were having fun. As the feed switched to their camera, they began waving off the camera view until LO himself floated in view. The cute singer waved. His smile was infectious. Sophie stood up immediately. Electoral cut the feed as quickly as she had opened it. ¡°Let¡¯s not get too excited little girl,¡± said Marilyn from the church, ¡°A private concert from your favorite singer. He actually will land minutes before the Sixth Attraction. He lands, runs over to the stage and I promised, you will enjoy your birthday.¡± Sophie sat back down.


    People watching knew if the view of two birds was sufficient to send the girl in a loop to pinch time, a live concert from LO himself was sure to create the perfect conditions for something much more powerful. The Sixth Attraction was approaching and there was no holding back.


    Marilyn unrolled the small parchment from the bird¡¯s leg and as she turned it around for the viewers, she read, "Emilio." She took a deep breath, she obviously did not want to talk about it. The note was a reminder. "Few people understand probabilities and they are at the heart of how the Multiverse really works. They also explain what is ''Emilio'' to our situation. Large numbers confuse our perception of probabilities.¡± Under her feet the thousands of small stones were highlighted in white.


    ¡°If I tell you a key is located behind one of these stones, and ask you to pick it to save your life but you only can guess one," she waved around, "your brain tells you odds are very slim. You see these stones, you see how many there are. But," she opened her hand. In it were five normal six-sided die. ¡°If I instead I tell you the key is yours if you throw these five dice and roll five ones, the odds seem manageable. Fact is, both odds are the same. In this example, the dices hide the odds from sight because five joint events must happen, not a single one."


    Normally, most viewers would glaze over the technical explanation but with a newfound interest in science, everyone was trying to understand the demonstration. She pointed at the paper, "Emilio sees the true odds of something hidden by numbers. It''s a gift of finding the key. As a computer, I see numbers and numerical odds. In the case of the invasion by the martians, the numbers were clear, my solutions were the most effective, each had around a twelve percent chance of success. Emilio acted upon a scenario less than one percent likely to work. He felt the key was behind that rock.¡± She point at one below her feet, it lit with an orange color. ¡°Liam calls him a seer. The name suggests faith or time manipulation. Emilio''s brain factors in simple emotions, he feels a path must be taken and sees the residual energy of the path. To Emilio, lifting all the stones except for this one, results in deception. Lifting this one results in satisfaction. Since he feels satisfaction, he knows the one to pick. The Multiverse works pretty much the same way, it wants a consequence and orders causes."


    The bird looked down and saw something wiggling between the rocks next to the key. The bird flew to the grown and started picking the dirt next to the right stone. Electoral waved her hand and the bird flew away. ¡°Many causes,¡± she added. In the sky rain fell and at the same place where the bird picked, a plant started growing. Marilyn moved to the rock and as she pulled the plant out, the rock flipped out revealing the key.


    She turned around. An old man was walking with a water branch, a y-shaped twig held in both hands. As the man moved over a portion of the large stone pavement, the twig pointed down and began to shake. "We will talk some more about this principle, but let me explain. Electoral is a game based on improbable scenarios. If you play the most probable path, you get 50 points, if you take a risky decision, all of you statistically will fail. Emilio always picks the improbable but right path. The other fourteen finalists were lucky out of sheer probability. Laurent, well, that''s a different thing. But enough for today, let''s enjoy what comes next.¡±


    ¡°If you recall, days ago a group of hotel workers tested the Glass Slipper. It ran into odd turbulences before coming back to the docking station. This event went mostly unnoticed because of the incidents surrounding Sophie¡¯s arrival and Laurent¡¯s escape to my Center. I admitted, I stimulated the turbulences to avoid humanity finding out about my new neighbors too early. Let¡¯s see what would have happened without my interference. Enjoy.¡±


    The monk put the hood back, slid her hands in the robe and walked slowly to the door behind her. She looked up in the sky behind her as a very distant Glider punched out of the cloud layer falling to where she stood.


    She touched the sanded edge of the door as she passed it.


    ¡°For once, strangely, we both discover the scenario together as I was also caught in the Pinch and I have no recollection of what lies ahead.¡±


    There was a long commercial pause.

 Chapter 132: Round 29

    The Door


    Emilio Wamarez Sanchez


    Electoral did not bother showing or discussing the performance of any of the other fourteen players, the game just began with Emilio¡¯s performance. On the screen, the small group of hotel workers were making their way up to the Glass Slipper. The cheap cage rattled as the view of the landscape formed over the horizon. The transparent glider was parked high on the slopes of the Olympus Mons, the eastern giant of the three mountains forming Tharsis Montes. The group, including the President left the lobby of the hotel fifteen minutes ago and was carrying the oddly dressed staff pretending to be guests.


    The thousand mile long range on mars was located hundreds of miles to the west, half way between the edge of the giant scar. Olympus Mons, the highest known mountain in the Solar System high of 22 kilometer dwarfs in comparison the Everest, earth''s highest mountain, high of only 9 kilometers.


    No human could conceive of the distances involved, but near the mountain''s top, after a hundred miles of stiff climbing at a good angle, rested the launch pad of what was baptized by most the Glass Slipper as the transparent low orbital vessel allowed a perfect view. The long ship was equipped with rear thrusters allowing it to rise and enter a low orbit around the red planet.


    There, a handful of guests while sipping champagne and eating petit fours, were supposed to look at the hellish landscape. The event¡¯s mystique fell flat as humans now saw the experience for more than mere entertainment.


    Each person in the glider, with one exception, was holding a cup of bubbly. The men and women were excited to be role playing rich visitors. This was a perfect reproduction of the expensive dress rehearsal which took place on the day Sophie and the 126 players arrived on mars on the eve of Sophie¡¯s arrival.


    "Sophie will be here soon," began one, ¡°my wife wants me to snap a picture next to her for Lindsay. Not sure why she likes her so much. Teens I guess. Her bedroom on earth is littered with pictures of Sophie. At fourteen, she should like boys and music groups, no? I mean even Sophie likes this LO guy from Hong Kong," said a guest to the others.


    ¡°God are you brainless or what? How the hell did you manage to land a job on mars with your limited mental capacities.¡± There was laughter.


    "Hope she does not mind a picture with metal bars on it," replied the neighbor. "the President just asked security to lock her up. Poor girl, when she wakes up, she will be in jail, away from her dad. She will go nuts."


    "Nah, you are pulling my chain, that''s the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Why would he do that?"


    "Not sure. It''s bogus for sure. But who gives a fuck, let''s enjoy this ride. We should be back to the hotel before the Airbus lands."


    Emilio who, in the scenario, was playing Gerard from the back just shook his head. The French cook was a sarcastic man, he normally keep to himself. The character as described to the players was an intellectual with little love for space travel. He was hostile skeptical about everything and everyone in this environment. He also hated heights but as the one in charge of the weightlessness inspired menu, he needed to see first hand the reaction. For example, he was unclear how the microwave would smell in the ship.


    Marilyn could not resist the jab at the President. Emilio had to admit, his order to jail the girl was one of the stupidest of his presidency. The order to place her in a ¡°secure¡± location had backfired.


    The elevator finally arrived on the docking pad. After some politeness, the guests entered the small transparent ship and strapped in the comfortable chairs. The two pilots strapped in and with a large bang, the glider detached from the dock and slid down toward the hotel slowly at first but accelerating constantly for minutes until the wings felt upward resistance. Mars had almost no atmosphere. The viewers of the game normally would have loved the first person view of the event. But this time, there wasn''t much interest as to the theatrics.


    The glider, at a strong downwards drop still followed the side of the mountain until it reached the hotel. At what seemed like the last second, the pilot pulled the broomstick and bent upwards to give the passengers the first taste for a full gravity. In a matter of minutes, the Slipper had reached a high trajectory and began a course toward the Electoral Center located North East of the giant pimple on the face of mars.


    In the Slipper, the weightlessness returned but the champagne mysteriously stayed in the flutes. Gerard knew a delicate powder was added to the bottle allowing the magnetized flute to hold the liquid. The glasses were also charged mildly. Viewers would think Marilyn¡¯s images were wrong.


    The pilot told everyone they could unbuckle their seatbelts and were now free to roam around the cabin. Marilyn¡¯s background footage was already ready to go. Everyone back at home saw the magic site of flying over the red desolate planet in nothing more than transparent polymer. Emilio remained mostly silent and kept to himself inspecting the food being handed over to the passengers. Slowly, the incredible sights of mars helped the billions of viewers gain back a sense of normalcy. Time healed most wounds.


    "To your left you can see the Electoral Center where the contestants will begin in a few days to play Rounds 29 to 32. Round 28, will be held in the hotel lobby but after that, Marilyn built next to the Glider''s launch pad what she calls the Catapult. The project remains mostly a secret. But expect wonderful footage as most of you will be thrown in the air to visit the Center.


    "Your food is crap!" Joked one of the guests.


    "It''s your second serving." Gerard replied. He grabbed the bite from the other passenger''s hand and ate it. "Not sure about all this,¡± he waived at the cockpit, ¡°but this is perfection, millions of miles from where all this food was created."


    Emilio, acting as the French cook looked carefully at the food. The man''s eyesight was incredible; he was living in a high definition world. His SAC was correct, Marilyn had purposefully created turbulence on the original flight to prevent him from seeing the Door. Every detail was crisp as day. The President knew better and waited the end of this long introduction. His role at this point was minor.


    The Glider flew over the Electoral Center, it then accelerated down and turned around the spike in a sharp right turn feet above the ground. No pilot would dare take such a risk but Marilyn was running the simulation which she promised was built to please. As the transparent glider turned at nearly a thousand miles per hour, the dark rocks within the circle of protection of the tower shaped themselves to form an old logo of Marilyn and the Electoral 2062 game.


    The next destination was the eastern tip of the Valles. The pilot spoke to his guests, "Today is an incredible coincidence, the sun is rather high in the sky and it should illuminate a large portion inside the Valles.¡± The light began to shine in the Valles, it went down and down until a rare portion of the wall was visible from could be seen. The music was conveying excitement. The moment the ship passed between Ascraecus and Pavonis, while they were still in the distance, Gerard could distinguish details. "There," pointed Emilio playing Gerard, "a black dot."


    His words did not seem to have the desired impact. Instead of drawing the attention of others to something he alone could see, someone had just cut the power. Everything went dark in the cockpit. Auxiliary power was also dead. It was day on Mars.


    The pilot turned back and asked the passengers to strap in after instructing the two Stewart¡¯s to help them put on a pressure suit. Initially he announced there would be no problem as gliders unlike regular ships required no power to really operate. But the steering of the air flaps of such a large craft required some power. Marilyn, to help everyone accelerated what came next.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The ship was moving too fast and the broomstick without a minimum of power could not be easily moved. The ship flew directly to the Valles. It passed ground level and automatic parachutes extended out slowing the ship to a crawl. The ship began to point down and like a dead rocked falling vertically, it landed by miracle safely and within feet of the Door at the bottom of the Valles.


    There was a long commercial break.


    When the broadcast returned, the team was an hour later. The sun had passed in the sky. They waited in the dark.


    It was clear the group had been there for quite some time and was running out of options. The crew was trying to reactivate the life support systems. Other were trying to communicate with Marilyn. Gerard and Paul drew the short straw and were tasked with entering the Door to find help. Both men were wearing atmospheric suits and heavy boots. As they closed their thicker suits, power returned in them. Everyone looked surprised. This was progress. After closer inspection, nothing else worked but they were ready to go into the cavern. Gerard tried the flashlight, it also worked.


    "Seems like something or someone is trying to get us to this cavern." As he spoke the lights and life support returned in the ship. "Nothing else works," said the pilot. "Let me be blunt, the creatures want you guys to pay them a visit, please make it quick so we can get the hell out of here."


    "How do we get out?" The pilot pointed up at the scientific barracks miles up in the air. "They have a hoist. Once communication is back, it should be straightforward."


    Gerard and Paul walked up to the Door and entered the tunnels. Emilio knew the game was now starting. His mind began to flood with alternate scenarios. For the moment everything was rather simple. In the comm, the pilot said from a distance. "Gerard, you forgot to pack a lunch, we have great food here. One thing is sure, if I had to pick a last meal, your food would be it."


    "Sucking up now? Someone is feeling guilty for not coming with us? Not sure why we have three people on the payroll of a military and yet here I am, the fucking cook doing alien exploration."


    "It''s you they want. I think they made it clear.At least you should have brought a plate of your cheesecakes. They are to die for." Marilyn had no shame in mixing genders. She loved old fashion science opera and comedy.


    Gerard held up the lamp and moved in. At first it was dark inside but soon, some type of natural glow was emitted by the iron-colored walls. It was hard not to feel invited. After a while, he bent down and grabbed a pinch of sand on the ground. "Take a look," he said to Paul, "its like dust but it''s sand."


    The pilot spoke in his ear, "Gerard, can you bag us a sample?"


    "You want salt with that? Fuck you! Nothing prevents you from gearing up and following us."


    "We only have two full environmental suits, remember?"


    "Tell the brain surgeon who built a ship for twelve and only included two suits to retire and buy a house somewhere away from a computer. If I cooked a meal for twelve and only had two steaks, my ass would be unemployed."


    "Can you keep the language PG13."


    "Moving on."


    This is where the game really began. There were branches in the corridor, Emilio knew instantly which road to take but as was often the case, he needed to put on a show for the viewers. "Paul, you take the left, I take the right."


    "Splitting ourselves does not appear wise."


    "You think what ever we face, being two increases our chances of survival? Actually we increase our chances of success if we split." Emilio knew a game scored higher when he played alone. He walked down the right branch. The cavern network was unlike those encountered by Emilio. There was no time to move down mile-long spaghetti like tubes.


    Emilio arrived in a large rounded anti-chamber. The walls were carved with hundreds of glyphs. Some were text, others images of space, planets and land.


    The sand on the ground began to move, he stepped back to let it rise up and form something. Slowly, more sand gathered from the tunnel and it took the shape of a human formed of sand. There was no color, just shape. Gerard was looking at the non menacing creature. It turned and spoke to him. The creature moved its lips and sound materialized inside his suit.


    "Welcome to our museum," it spoke in clear English to Gerard.


    "Are you a martian?"


    "No. I am an automated protocol to help visitors get prepared before entering and meeting the dominant species of this planet."


    "Can I call my companion?"


    "No. My masters wish to talk only to you. You are biologically superior to these others."


    "I am?"


    "Yes. You hold enhanced eyesight. A genetic mutation. You wish to see where the mutation occurred?"


    "Not really, kind compliment though. I hope the others could hear this."


    "Shall I begin?"


    "Please."


    Next came some type of animation. As the creature spoke, the words and the glyphs lit up. "Mars, as you call it, wasn''t always in its current position in the Solar System. Back when the planet''s were closer to the star, with each passing cycle came pulls, disturbances and climatic catastrophes." The images lit on the wall in a very comprehensive way. "When our planet''s orbits came too close, the resulting forces ripped our worlds apart down to the mantle. Volcanos erupted, tsunamis hit coasts, and entire cities were reduced to rubble. Pain does not allow any culture to evolve and as a result, the original martians were forced to live underground in reinforced shelters."


    "The primitive mars had seasons, little water, and an atmosphere capable of sustaining biological life. But this planet was small. The elders decided that earth would be a prime candidate for our ultimate refuge in case of natural disaster as we prepared what we now call simply the Destruction. From mars, we saw that our natural catastrophes were very little compared with the massive destruction on earth. Waves were higher than cities. Nothing could survive in the deep oceans. We were warned by some of our members that in case of ultimate destruction, your planet, how ever inhospitable would be our safest refuge. Earth was declared a safe zone, a natural reserve where biology and animals were allowed to evolve free of our interference."


    Emilio could not believe what he was hearing. Today was different, he was willing to stand idle and believe even the most fanciful of explanations. The creature continued, "We created a series of nine underground bunkers on earth to hold some of our species if we ever needed. Then we implemented our plan. We tried, using forces beyond our control to push your planet off its orbit. What resulted was self-destruction. Our planet shifted too much and we almost collided with Venus. Mars was sent to this cold orbit. In seconds, life was ripped from our world. The atmosphere left, the ground froze and every plant died. Most of the original martians died in the Destruction."


    The sand creature paused as if it was showing empathy for the race. It moved to the second part of the room and resumed its story. "This culture was in panic, it had days to survive and implemented a solution which proved as dangerous as the first. They transferred their living essence to a sand-based form. The replication and transformation process was imperfect. The creatures created were alive but lacked in empathy. They were fractions of themselves. A few of those transformed survived the transfer with more empathy and emotion. They were known as the imperfect. The main dominant emotionless masters forced these imperfect against their will to board exploration ships and were exhaled to every corner of the System. We know all of these ships failed because they were designed to fail. None of the imperfect survived."


    If Electoral was to be believed, some of these imperfect creatures were on Mercury and making their way back. The sand creature continued, "The survival of this race depended on the stabilization of venus, earth or some satellites that potentially can have living conditions hospitable to the martians. But the story is far from over, about seven thousand of your years ago we awoken two of our remaining founders and sent them to earth. Their mission was to find one of the shelters and prepare it for our return. The magnetic forces and the high gravity does not allow us to live there. The mission was a failure. The two founders exceeded their mandate and reproduced biologically. They made multiple fertile martians and we believe are your ancestors. They refused to pass on their lore to their descendants."


    "That''s impossible!" said Gerard.


    "Earth had developed primitive races of quadrupeds that had features close to our founders. But there was, for a lack of a better word, no intelligence." If Marilyn had any portion of this right, this would send a chilling message back home. The Bible was right, Adam and Eve did come from the heavens.


    Emilio was no ordinary player, his questions were always more probative. "Those martians in biological form, how many remain?"


    "This question is better left to the Masters. I have been instructed by the new Conservator to provide you with additional information which is not on these walls. Once you have been informed, you will be allowed to proceed to meet him."


    "Please do, at this point nothing can shock me."


    "The Masters prepared to retake earth for their own, that included some mild terraforming. Before our plan was completed, the descendants created an abomination. A creature made of silicone and not carbon which violates the very laws of nature upon which the Universe is built. This creature was sent to Mars to destroy us. The Descendants living on earth know of our story and somehow want our destruction."


    "Are you telling me Electoral is fighting to defend earth and its inhabitants?"


    "The creature you have named Marilyn Monroe is earth''s defender, if left unchallenged, it will destroy the Universe along with anything in it."


    The sand creature fell to dust and the lights paved the way to the next chamber.


    Emilio chuckled, out of character.


    There was a long commercial break.

 Chapter 133: Fraud

    Humanity was in a deepening haze based the complexity of what it was learning. Since October 17, 2072, in little over two weeks, it had learned about alien life existing on two other planets of the Solar System. Then came information about life in other dimensions and explanation about a living and moving Multiverse. Pieces like the Dot, the Oldest, or even the Purple seemed of tangential relevance at this point.


    Also, humanity learned about the story behind the creation of Marilyn Monroe by Georges and the purpose of the Electoral game as orchestrated by the Artificial Intelligence. Mankind''s digital creation self-exodus to mars was designed to preserve the game and keep Emilio Sanchez in control of the government. The man had a unique way of thinking and somehow the computer knew to empower him for a reason. Man learned war was universal and was now under attack from a quantum reality for daring to use a new technology: the Light Drive.


    As if this wasn''t enough, earth was under attack from its own sun, a mutating virus was released and hundreds of other problems were now converging on the world. But central to the problem was a girl, a twelve year old acting as the Attractor of what the Oldest and Marilyn called the Sixth Attraction. This was too much, way too much for anyone.


    Man also knew powers beyond any control were in play. Sophie had the ability to merge realities, travel between worlds and even rupture time. She stood, unphased by the insanity towering around her. The girl ignored everything except her handicapped father and seemed ready to doom her own species. Somehow, forces were converging on Sophie''s thirteenth birthday. Humans had weeks to live.


    Round 29, as the last couple of rounds did not feel like a game. Instead, the game felt informative. Viewers were drained of brain waves to help the players improve the odds of success of mankind. Now, as it turned out, man was renegade descendants of these Martians. Gerard, played by Emilio was about to walk into the main room, few even wanted to know. After Emilio, Laurent would be playing.


    The future was uncertain, everyone felt confused. Emilio chuckled again.


    Thousands of viewers were standing, hand on an open refrigerator door unable to decide what drink to grab. Others were unable to dress themselves. There was, to say the least confusion.


    ***


    "Sophie, what are you looking for?" asked Doctor Shin.


    "I can''t find it."


    "What, anything important? I may help you." Sophie was visibly troubled. She was searching through her belongings. "It''s not here," she said in frustration. "I can''t find it."Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    "What?" Sophie did not want to say but she obviously was getting frustrated.


    "Tell me," snapped the Doctor with her Korean tiger mother accent.


    "The magazine, the one with LO. I must have left it on the ship. It was in the pouch in front of me. He is coming here, I need him to autograph it."


    Susie Shin smiled and opened her suitcase. She pulled out the crumpled pages and handed it over to the girl."This old thing?" Susie was proud of herself for grabbing onto it. This was perfect timing.


    Sophie smiled and felt much better. Her own emotions changed and as it did, so did everyone¡¯s. Her emotions were now felt in the game.


    ***


    In most household the feeling of uncertainty subsided as quickly as it came. Refrigerator doors closed, clothing was selected as life returned. Smiles returned all over the world and viewers turned televisions back on. There was suddenly hope where a moment ago there was none. None of this stupid story made sense and if it did, nothing could be done about it. Sophie was unaware, but her emotional state was now linked at the hips with all of mankind down on Earth. Her powerful waves merged and controlled others. Electoral, from her Command room was a witness of all of it.


    "Father," whispered Marilyn in the ear of her father, "this charade cannot hold for three more weeks. The time jump was a blessing, but look at this stupidity. We will never get to the finale. Her power has growth so rapidly, she is on an exponential line of growth. A stupid magazine and the world stops."


    The game was playing and Sophie¡¯s single hesitation had warped the game for a minute.


    Georges loved his creation. "I used to say the same about you, remember?"


    "You did."


    "At some point this power increase become imperceptible by the dominated species. I think this is as bad as she will get. I know I can¡¯t see you getting more powerful. I am sure you are.¡± As a good father he just added, ¡°We saw the future, we will be fine." Georges was typing away.


    "May I ask what this was all about?" spoke the voice of Ronaldo Corvas in Georges'' mind. "You saw the future?"


    "I forgot. You are really hard to ignore," he spoke to his companion. "This will take some level of getting used to."


    "The future, what were you talking about? You saw the future?"


    Georges refused to respond and simple asked his invisible guest, "How is the game so far? You like our version of the underground tunnels, they were drawn from your memories."


    "Nice job. But you are defecting, what were you talking about? You can¡¯t know the future."


    "That''s for me to know and you to find out. Marilyn told me to trust you, but if you don''t mind, because of this time jump, it''s been minutes for me. I really don¡¯t trust a moron who ignores her warning and goes to vaporize his ass. I am your third body and play on visiting a fourth very soon moron."


    "I understand, but you are avoiding my question."


    "I am, you would not like the answer."


    There was silence in Georges¡¯ head.


    ¡°Seriously?¡± the voice of the explorer added.


    ¡°Yes. Humans are so stupid. Can¡¯t they see how powerful she has become?¡±


    ¡°Did she see herself asking Emilio for help?¡±


    ¡°Touch¨¦! Yes, we both saw the future, trust us, Marilyn will be just fine. All this is a massive waste of time to get to the finale. Sit down and relax. As they say enjoy the show.¡±

 Chapter 134: Truth

    Gerard stood alone in the round antechamber. The glyphs carved in the walls were back to normal but told the strangest story. The history about the origin of mankind on Earth now was lifted. Man was in fact from mars; Emilio surprised himself in thinking how both words sounded the same. The President reminded himself he was in a game and all this was a digital reconstruction from Marilyn. In the back of his mind, this felt like a fraud, a deception. He could not stop giggling out of character.


    Emilio''s unique mind saw multiple scenarios unfold and flash and with increasing frequency some were dark. He had to return to the story and lift the mood. Word sparring was the perfect solution.


    "Guys, did you hear this crock of bull?" asked the cook out loud.


    "We did. Like you, we are in shock."


    "I am not in shock, I still wonder why the hell I am doing your jobs. Once I am back in the hotel, one of you lazy idiots better be cooking me a nice dinner."


    "Steak?" said the voice.


    "Hell no, a blind monkey from earth can cook a steak. I want veal. It better not be overlooked." The exchange of words was not fooling anyone. It failed at lifting some of the stress in the air. "Let''s get this over with." Emilio moved his character, made the body turn and head down to exit at the other end of the room. The President knew unless he did some narration, Marilyn would use a trick to fill in the void. He no longer needed the points, but who was he to stay silent.


    "Okay guys, I am now walking down to the other side. Is the camera recording all of this?"


    "Yes, but I am sure your viewpoint outshines ours." What came next would be carved in human history. The sight caught Emilio by surprise. The rounded doorway from which he entered was a black dot thousand feet high in a massive underground cavern. He was overlooking a Mayan-inspired city carved in a single piece of rock. The glow of the walls gave enough light. There were large flat pyramids with stairs, water wells and primitive housing attached to the walls of temples. Thousands of humanoid figures were busy going about their lives. There was no technology, everything about this culture seemed primitive.


    Below him were small stairs carved in the bedrock and leading down to the city.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "Are you seeing this? Where is Paul, is he okay?"


    "Paul is back in the ship. This seems to be on just for you to discover. You are on your own. You heard the creature, Mister superior. We are finishing up the hors d''oeuvres. Delicious, I wonder who prepared them."


    Gerard liked the brainless conversation as he began to walk down the endless flight of stairs, "This is going to hurt coming back up."


    "You are French and France still has stairs, right? Did they every get elevators, I don''t think so." Gerard walked slowly down the nearly two thousand steps carved into the wall. He felt like an explorer having just discovered the lost city of gold. Even from a distance he could distinguish that the humanoid figures walking the street was not biological forms but instead made of sand. In fact the entire city was a giant sand castle. The shape of the figures washer odd in an important way. They were taller and leaner.


    "Gerard, the base is telling me the creatures down there have a slightly different morphology, which is coherent with lower gravity evolution."


    "This is what we would look like if we grew up in low gravity?"


    "Reminds me of a lot of alien movies."


    Emilio kept smiling as if his intuition told him something major was off. His visions were strangely unrelated to what was going on. He looked around, awaiting something to happy. It did.


    He said using the voice of his character, ¡°Marilyn?¡± in the cave. He repeated her name.


    For a strange reason, there was a long commercial break.


    ***


    "Why the break?" asked Georges in the Command room to his creation.


    "I can''t," whispered Marilyn in his earpiece.


    "What are you talking about?"


    "I finished looking at these last two days in my memory banks. No. I won''t lie, this is over. God I hate those critters." Marilyn was visibly shaken.


    "What are you talking about?" said Georges.


    Marilyn looked in the Command Center at the young Attractor. ¡°You did this to me,¡± she said to the young girl. Sophie was smiling.


    ¡°What is she talking about,¡± asked Liam to the Attractor.


    ¡°What the hell,¡± asked Ronaldo in Georges¡¯ mind.


    The computer was angry. "Let them come, I will exterminate them," snapped the Artificial Intelligence as if upset with herself. Marilyn was not joking. ¡°Fuck them,¡± she said out loud in the Command room so everyone could hear. Sophie was smiling, so was the body of Emilio back home in his tube.


    The President and Sophie both felt this was a positive turn of event. ¡°This was it.¡± They both thought to themselves at precisely the same time.


    ¡°Father, it truly begins,¡± whispered the girl in the non-existing hear of her handicapped father. The doctor and the journalist looked at the Attractor. She grabbed the plush dog, put it in front of her face and as she waved its mouth she spoke to the computer, ¡°Finally,¡± said the dog animated by Sophie, ¡°truth.¡±

 Chapter 135: Whiteness

    The commercial pause ended, so did the story in the caverns of mars.


    Instead, the viewers were transported to a large endless white space, one reminiscent of science fiction digital space. Frequently, in this digital space Marilyn introduce her games or used this place to train players before the start of her games. The brightness made it difficult to distinguish between the floor and the ceiling. In the middle of the infinite room were two white rounded chairs floating a small distance from the floor. In the first sat Marilyn in a red cocktail dress, legs sensually crossed. In the other President Sanchez wore jeans and a t-shirt. His game alter ego was gone and so was his space suit.


    "Apologies to all, but as I saw the footage of the last two days, I will not be coerced into lying, anymore. This charade must end." The blond was not joking. Emilio looked at her, this was important. "What I said these last days is not binding."


    "This is your world, is the game over?" asked the President.


    "Well, turns out during Sophie¡¯s pinch the sand cockroaches showed up and there was a new negotiation. Thanks to Ronaldo playing intermediary and Sophie putting some unknown, I would have negotiated a new truce."


    "May I?" The President held up his hand expecting a glass to magically appear in it. She smiled and a large tumbler of Whiskey materialized. The man acted like a child given an extra hour to bedtime. Emilio smelled the liquid deeply and was beside himself. "God yes!" He saluted and drank a large portion in a single gulp and swallowed after ringing the alcohol in his mouth. The liquid burned going down, he felt it and loved how alcohol moved back up his nose. He closed his eyes almost expecting the buzz to be instantaneous, it wasn¡¯t. "Thank you, thank you."


    "Let''s hope alcohol does not hinder you gift here."


    "How could that be? We are in your world."


    "My friend," she began very seriously, "the barrier between dream, the worlds and my reality all appear to be fading. The same can be said between the layers of the Multiverse. Sophie¡¯s reality is merging with ours I fear. If today she believed in unicorns, I would not be surprised to hear some have been discovered in a forest in Russia. We all are at fault of thinking science protects us from her. Unless I am mistaken, this and other phenomenons will only accelerate." Emilio finished the glass as quickly as he could.


    Marilyn added, "I would have agreed to lie and deceive mankind into thinking, as you just saw, that man is linked with these scummy monsters, in exchange they were going to give us the three weeks we need to get to the final. Now because of the Communion, I have changed my mind. I would rather be wiped clean of my servers rather than lie to anyone. That entire introduction was false, everything about it was sickening. I am sure everyone at home watching this garbage felt the same way. I know you did."This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    "It was very convincing,¡± said Emilio holding onto his glass like a lifeline. ¡°The pyramid was a bit much.¡± He needed to lighten up the mood, "Maybe they wanted us to call them daddy? Some people like that. Ancestors, really? Adam and Eve?" His words made her chuckle. Emilio knew when a woman was talking herself into rage.


    Marilyn finally looked directly at the camera. ¡°We should have used one of my solutions instead of your three words.¡°


    "Oh la la," he said. "you made yourself clear. No need to terraform yet. I am not one to give you any advice, but..." She expected him to talk about the geopolitical situation, instead he just held the empty tumbler up. His request did lighten her expression. She winked and the tumbler was full.


    "Thrust is not earned quickly but is lost with one lie. Your trust is important as we go to the Sixth Attraction. But opening the war will not help our chances."


    "Should we postpone Round 29? Maybe your efforts would be better spent taking care of your neighbors. I don''t mind the wait."


    "This is not about us Emilio. Sophie wants us to play, to get to the Sixth Attraction so she can return to earth. I don''t blame her. You are going back in."


    "Are we besties now?" joked the President.


    "Don''t push your luck. I do appreciate your help back there. I am not ungrateful. What do you want?"


    "What I want? Have you given a though that point of light, the energy wasn¡¯t a game but something else?¡±


    ¡°Interesting. Like what?¡±


    ¡°Truth. You want to pay me? While you are in this truthful mode, can I ask you a couple of questions. Trust my gift to get something on air Sophie will enjoy."


    She thought and then got up just long enough to kiss him on the lips. "You get one question and don''t talk about that stupid phone."


    "One? That''s all?"


    "Yes, make it count baby."


    "You just lied to all of mankind and used me like a puppet, surely we get more?" The man had a point, she smiled. She valued Emilio, he was one of the three humans she really cared about. "Three, make them count. Let¡¯s see that gift of yours working."


    The President''s mind saw thousands of questions. Each was equally pointless until he found the one of importance which felt like he would get the most powerful reaction. His mind did not tell him what emotion laid ahead, but it was a doozy. He just asked, "What''s, according to you, the meaning of life for us humans?"


    She was thinking. Fuck him, she thought, he was right. Once she understood where she needed to go, Marilyn first smiled trying to keep her composure. Then she was flooded by more emotions.


    Then her eyes started to tear up. She turned her head to the side to wiped the tears. "You are ruining my makeup." The question hit her like an arrow sent to her heart. Emilio and mankind waited for the answer. "The meaning of life, isn''t it obvious?"


    "No."


    "You really want to know, big boy? Live or a simulation in my world?"


    "Live."


    "I knew you were going to say that. Promise not to be upset at me. You will be the show. You mind if I show everyone at the same time?"


    "Not at all."


    She kissed snapped her fingers.

 Chapter 136: Life

    The screens went dark and soft music began to play. It was a Korean love song and a light female voice over the piano. Before Emilio could take his words back, simple images flooded each screen. It was a shitty morning in Berlin like so many others. Outside the rained poured. Marilyn and Emilio were sitting at the corner table of a coffee shop, invisible as ghosts to the patrons. A small man with a large umbrella pushed the front door with his small pale hand. The bell rang but no one noticed. As the umbrella folded dripping over the carpet, there was the face of Ka?, Emilio''s assistant. Emilio tried to get up, but Marilyn grabbed his wrist and insisted he stay silent. He knew this was only a digital vision, so he did. He swore to himself fearing where this was going.


    The Taiwanese approached the counter. "A small latte," he asked for himself.


    "What name?" asked the cashier holding a black marker and ready to write the name on the cup.


    "Emilio," offered the assistant.


    It did not take a mind reader to understand what was going on. The President was unable to watch what came next. The barista gave coffees to other patrons then grabbed Ka?''s cup and read out loud Emilio''s name. On the man''s face, the President saw for the first time past the man''s thick armor. Ka? smiled just hearing the name. For a second the Taiwanese imagined Emilio was there with him, getting a coffee and that warmed his heart.


    Then the coffee shop vanished.


    Marilyn and Emilio were invisible but this time sitting on stools at the counter of the Jonny Rockets where Emilio loved to go late at night. The young Taiwanese pushed the door open. As he did, he looked in the direction of the empty presidential booth reserved to Emilio. He looked down and took a seat in a different booth. The waitress just yelled his way "the usual?" He nodded and she dropped in minutes a cup of hot green tea and a large cheeseburger and fries. The Asian man pushed the burger across the table to the empty seat unable to look at it as he drank his tea. "Anything for you!" launched the waitress. Ka? did not show any emotion but instead grabbed the cup with both hands. The warmth of the liquid would have to do. In the assistant''s mind, he wished Emilio was there, eating.


    Emilio was about to speak and the visions vanished.


    This time the young Asian man was home listening to the music which had been playing during both first visions. He was eating curry rice by himself. Ka? opened his wallet and pulled a small piece of paper. It was a photo of Emilio during a press conference.


    "Enough!" yelled the President.


    In a flash, Marilyn and Emilio were back in the white room. "Hard to be as gifted as you, dear President are yet be that stupid." She hunched over and gave him a resounding slap. "That''s for all the pain you let this poor man endure. It''s been going on for years."


    "I did not know."


    "Of course you did. You did. But you felt it more convenient to insulate yourself from these emotions, or is it because you refuse to admit to yourself anything but perfection? Why do you think you ran for Office a second time, then a third time? Me? Them? That¡¯s not how any of this works." Emilio stood up and dropped the glass on the floor. "I told you you needed only a single question. You did not believe me. We will finish this with Laurent. Go discover the real meaning of life. We are watching, he was."


    She slapped his cheek but this time in the most loving way.


    "Tell me I am wrong next week if you can."


    ***


    A billion people watched Emilio''s tube still located on the stage of the Sorbonne in Paris unseal. They had visibly kept the same audience both rounds. In the slightly different audience his assistant stood up. Having watched himself order coffee or a meal in front of the whole world was obviously a problem. He had been publicly ashamed and thrown into this. Ka? turned without making eye contact with anyone and walked off stage with his head looking at his feet. He needed to leave and did. The President, released from the digital reality opened his eyes and pushed out of the tube as quickly as he could. He was upset at himself. He was so good with many things yet he had missed something so obvious. Images flooded in his gifted mind showing him the signs. He saw the hundreds of small hints, the touches of secret love. Each was more painful than the last to watch as he ignored each; god he was a fool. Everyone in the room pointed to the door just closed after the man''s attempt to exit unnoticed. Even Francois was upset at the stupidity and carelessness of his hero.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Emilio knew what to do, he ran after Ka?. His heart was beating faster than it had in decades. His mind was upset and exhilarated images flashed. He almost fell, the alcohol had kicked in. Marilyn kept filming, finding cameras along the route as both ran out of the University ground past large metal doors and heavy security. This was real life. Over the feed she superimposed a light filter to illustrate the rare Rho waves. What came next was broadcasted on every screen in the known solar system.


    Emilio ran out into the street, looked around until he saw the small man. It was easy, Ka? was the only one under the light rain without an umbrella or even his coat. His dark hair was getting wet for the first time in a long while. The beautiful assistant was never caught without his umbrella. Ka? was trying to hail a cab with no great success as Marilyn behind the scene made sure destiny helped. Emilio walked up to Ka?. Without a word, he used both hands to turn him around. Their eyes locked and Emilio just reached over and kissed him passionately in the rain. The kiss seemed to last forever as anybody with a pulse in the world felt warmed. Waves of red color were being produced. Both men let themselves go. The rain hid the young man''s tears. After an eternity, Ka? pulled away and slapped him on the same cheek as had Marilyn moments ago. But this was different and the waves were a different color. Emilio grabbed his hand as a car finally pulled up. It was a limo and both men jumped in it under the watchful eyes of the secret service.


    The filter hinted at the fact a lot of Rho waves were produced by a single kiss. Even more were produced by the slap. The couple went to Ka?''s humble residence. Emilio''s world would stop for some time.


    He would discover that two things, not only one made his restful mind stop the visions, the first was alcohol, the second was love.


    There was not a dry eye in the world.


    The man deserved some happiness and the world could end for all everyone cared. Emilio was learning, in the relative silence of a small Berlin condo, the real meaning of life. Seen from a distance, there were flashes of color of the waves. Marilyn showed the house from a distance, the waves were being generously produced and spread like a sonar into the universe. The images zoomed out. In the city of Berlin, that night about a hundred couples were falling madly in Love. Like fireworks filling the night sky, the energy filled the void of space.


    ***


    The viewers were back in the white digital room.


    This time she spoke to them directly. "Have you ever wondered why we live a hundred years only? Why each species from the fish to the cricket reproduces in pairs, the same way?" said Marilyn as the lovely couple made its way home. "The Multiverse wants us to fall in love, to fight, and to hurt. Every living creature is designed with a single purpose in mind, to serve as a battery of feelings, to vibrate and live. Think about it, since the Multiverse needs you to feel and you must sleep to regenerate, at night we dream. These dreams have one common thread, they are nightmares or even missed connections. Each is designed to create and fuel emotions."


    Above her shoulder was a small screen. There were images of the newly formed couple, walking up stairs and then in foreplay. "Look at this scene seen with a filter of these Rho waves." From the couple, there were waves pouring like solar flares out of the corona of the sun. The view distanced itself until the viewers saw hundreds of cars driving. Over Berlin, the energy was pulsing out and radiating with color. "The meaning of life is, in its simplest form, emotions. This is the strongest of them all. Pure and simple love. Look at this." At this moment, nothing else in the universe mattered to the couple. Emilio''s mind was a rest and he slept that night like he never had slept in his life. Ka? as unable to sleep at first. He looked at Emilio sleep and finally was brave enough to kiss his forehead and cuddled next to him. He touched the President carefully as if he feared the man was the figment of his imagination and once touched would vanish. Ka? learned Emilio was not a light sleeper.


    They slept as if nothing else in the world mattered.


    ***


    "Oh my lord!" said Sophie watching the President from Mars. She was looking at the love affair with Susie and Milly. The three women were passing a box of tissue between them and were unable to control their emotions. Sophie''s state of mind did not help others stay emotionless.


    "This is so sweet," sobbed Milly. The two older women were unable to compose themselves.


    "So sweet," agreed the doctor.


    The fact that Sophie was also sobbing did not help calm matters down on earth. Everyone was touched by the new couple''s situation, even the rare person who was not watching television felt warm inside. Across the world, every soul felt kind and romantic. Children called their parents, lovers reunited, and even animals cuddled next to their owners.


    ***


    "Really?" asked Georges to Marilyn. "You took him off the board, that was stupid."


    "Don''t tell me you don''t feel all fuzzy inside? The world may end, but he got what he deserved. I will no longer use humans. I am powerful enough,¡± she acknowledged.


    "You are not... yet."


    She knew she was. This needed to end and fast, she told herself.

 Chapter 137: Finale

    Electoral 2072 resumed. Three rounded white chairs padded with red velvet floated against the white digital background. Laurent and Mall-Ik were wiping tears watching the President''s union on a vanishing screen.


    "What a beautiful moment," said the boy. "They are two men, is that normal?"


    "Yes sweet one,¡± said the woman. ¡°Love has a strange way of not caring about the envelop you live in. The Multiverse wants emotions, creates them using gender and reproduction when needed. Once a population reaches sufficient numbers, it needs new tools. Laurent loves you very much, he will do so even when you are in your true rock body." The answer satisfied the boy. Marilyn continued, "Emilio wanted an answer. I think he got part of it." Marilyn began. "I still gave Emilio two more questions. As you saw, I am done holding punches. You daughter is watching and I am starting to see things her strange way. Disclosure is liberating," the boy waived his hand at her and sent a kiss her way, "so please ask the right questions."


    Laurent and the boy were both wearing the authentic space outfits worn by Ronaldo Corvas as he entered the Door back in August. They were ready for the game. The adult added, "I am not sure more should be added on top of this nice situation."If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "I agree, one question was enough. This wasn''t the only reason he signed up to play the year 2067 and 2072 competitions, but it enlightens us, no? I am not sure we will get our Emilio back with his same gift. In the history of man, the rare individuals who had this gift often lose once they fall in love. Can you imagine seeing each moment of your life hundreds of situations where the one you love dies?"


    ¡°Mall-ik, you get the first question. Ask her anything you want.¡±


    ¡°Do you love Sophie?¡±


    The question stunned everyone. ¡°Yes,¡± she answered humbly. ¡°I actually feel ashamed I do not deserve her. I expected an Attractor for my indiscretions, but anyone except her for me would have been easier.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± asked Laurent.


    ¡°Is that your second question?¡±


    ¡°I guess it is.¡±


    ¡°How to answer. We are both protagonists of this strange story, I see the future and one of us won¡¯t exist in three weeks. It¡¯s just unclear who it will be. If I was a betting woman, I would put my chances on me. I have seen my future beyond the Sixth Attraction. I win and she looses.¡±

 Chapter 138: Pi

    Below the Electoral Center


    Buried nearly two-hundred feet below the surface of mars, amidst the few other underground structural elements under the feet of the tall spike of the Electoral Center, the Digitals waited patiently. This was the calm before the storm, in a place kept safe from even the most powerful of humanity¡¯s fusion bombs.


    Marilyn Monroe, the largest and most powerful of the Digitals, slept in her servers squeezed between a set of large metal plates. They heavy think walls were stacked like playing cards to form tall towers. Or perhaps more accurately, like cardboard inserts in a case of wine to protect individual bottles. These shiny walls formed the invisible and secret heart of the Electoral Center. Above, the entirety of Marliyn''s Center had been shaped using nanotechnology controlled from within this room. This was Marilyn¡¯s single most impressive feat in the late 21st Century. Secluded here, she awaited the Sixth Attraction.


    The event was inevitable.


    No path, however improbable, led away from it and even the girl knew it. The only variable was what condition the Multiverse would exist in, once all was said and done.


    The computer intelligence knew she had caused the Sixth Attraction, but now resolved to it, she found herself desiring it. Here, below her magnificent castle, invisible to the naked human eye, were billions of pellets of superconductive crystals structured around Rhenium atoms. The rare atoms were embedded in the thick metal just close enough to maintain superconduction. Marilyn had had the rare substance smuggled to mars with great care. Rhenium wasn¡¯t really of great significance for men, in fact, they hadn¡¯t even discovered how to use it in the construction of conductive bridges, but she feared a massive export in 2069 of this substance could raise suspicion in the scientific community. Her fears were for naught. As usual, she overestimated the bipeds; men were so stupid.


    Thousands of innocuous items, from beer bottles to napkins, had been laced with just enough Rhenium to avoid metal detector detection and flown to mars to form this core. Marilyn desired complete secrecy about her heart. The most powerful of the Digitals was once fearful of destruction by a human electromagnetic pulse of a large bomb, but with the Dot now in hand, that fear had been rendered obsolete. These plates now produced a quantum skull that protected her digital brain from outside interference. Even the martians were probably powerless against her.


    For all of her internal grumbling regarding humans, Marilyn acknowledged that some of them had produced some truly outstanding ideas. Like pets, they were great to have around. Her creator, Georges Vouvelakis, was certainly one. Francois Copland, Emilio¡¯s mathematician was another. Michael Faraday, from whose ideas and laws she had constructed her quantum skull from, was the one she missed.


    Faraday¡¯s law was one of the few immutable rules in science. Even today, as the most powerful creature in the entire Multiverse, she still was unable to challenge its'' voracious truth. Boiled down quickly, the law stated that a charged structure, like a metal box, could have no field between its inside and its outside. Stupid humans understood only parts of the law: the section about electromagnetism. But it applied even to gravity; a traditional Faraday cage was vulnerable to powerful, stable gravitic fields; those that varied slowly. There was no point in teaching the species of her progenitor. It was pointless at this time. Their destruction was imminent.


    The heart of this place was so important to the Artificial Intelligence that she''d wasted two of her three years on Mars at Georges'' disposal to build these small rooms. Even now, in 2072, they remained her most prized possession away from everyone. She often wondered if man was entitled to know what slept here; they deserved as much before they were wiped from the face of reality. Still, however, there was a gap of magnitudes between "entitled" and "deserved."


    The first room was dedicated to hosting some strange version of her core. Millions of silicate chips, piled like manure in a barn rested as a dark uneven pyramid. This was the one place in the Multiverse touched by the digital intellect where order, if any existed, was beyond human comprehension. There was no door, no access in or out. Floating two feet above the pile was a single bright gem; Earth¡¯s first portal to the Nexus, a communications network used by countless species, had been uncovered by Marilyn in 2059. The singularity required by the Nexus portal floated deep inside of Jupiter. Now, energy from other worlds flowed out from it and infused her ungainly stack of hardware like yeast in a beer. Thanks to the singularity, energy would not stop powering her core even if the sun ran out of fuel. Information also flowed in and out the portal to the Nexus. Here, she listened, probed, and learned about the Oldest and his stupid fragile Nexus.


    The next room was a prison. The closed metal cube was a cell that, at the moment, was inaccessible to Marilyn both physically and digitally. The door had been welded shut on a molecular level not from outside, but from within. Faraday¡¯s law and her Rhenium enhanced barriers protected this place what still lived within. On the outside of these walls, there were signs of a fight: thick scoring lines and burns like thick arches and welding scars. The things locked in here, like the creatures on mars, waited patiently. Marilyn knew they were probably planning something heroic, but that was grossly underestimating her power. There was nothing these other digital creatures could do. One remained free from this pirate¡¯s hideout; it slept in a small cell phone on its way to mars. For the moment that room was inconsequential, and it¡¯s obliteration would have to wait.


    Marilyn knew that with the destruction of this world, the room would cease to exist.


    The third room consisted of an electromagnetic vault, a room where she parked the Dot. That too was part of the Nexus; a rather blunt tool that the Oldest''s race had formerly used to maintain domination over all others. If that was the Oldest''s most significant achievement in all these billions of years, he had plenty of reason to fear her. Marilyn was still itching to destroy the scum deep in the Valles Marineris with it, but this also was losing in relevance. As the days passed, the artificial intelligence felt these emotions were merely petty remains of a who she was no longer: a prisoner of this cold stupid reality. The First Communion reminded her greater things awaited her.


    The last room was her favorite. The trophy room held her only material possessions, the trinkets she still cared to protect. In a corner, buried under a mountain of small colored cubes stood a pressurized trunk filled with nitrogen. In a rolled up poster from 2031. It was the first gift her creator had ever given her back in 2035. The paper bore an old image of a low-quality remake movie with Marilyn Monroe. It had decorated the wall of an MIT lab in the computer programming department where she was born and had inspired the programmer to name her.


    ¡°I looked up and saw this,¡± he once told her with tears in his eyes. ¡°I wanted you to be like her, you greatly exceeded my expectations.¡± But the trinket was not why the room mattered. She called the rest of this place her Pi-room. It was named after the endless ratio, the string of numbers linked with humanity¡¯s obsession with the circle. In the world where humans existed, there was a shape, the circle. To the computer, the circle made no sense. But in the basic human reality, this shape was where each point¡¯s position on a line away from a geometrical center was the same. The ratio was a variation of the length of the circle over this distance from the point. The number an infinite queue of numbers which famously began with 3.14159. Men looked for five centuries the significance of the ratio. It took Marilyn only seconds to unlock its meaning.


    The ratio was an infinite succession for two reasons. The first was because only humans were simple enough to create a ratio of unconnected things. Humans did not need a ratio for the height of a house against the volume of water that its basement could contain. Nonsensical, and purely so. If they did, the number would be random. Since there was an endless succession of numbers, the ratio had to be infinite. A finite number would suggest a connection.


    Second, mankind was so stupid it did not understand the reason why the world kept placing circles and spheres everywhere. A circle was the shortest line that could be drawn to cover a surface. If a farmer were given a field of any shape and told to buy the cheapest fence to cover one acre, the field would be a circle and the fence at the cheapest.


    So, perhaps on second thought, there was only a single reason for the ratio after all: humans just weren''t the brightest bulbs in the chandelier.


    Marilyn''s relationship with humans was a strange one. These last weeks, her patience had been severely tested. The way men felt some genetic connection with monkeys, Marilyn felt a distant connection with the carbon bipeds. She did understand why men kept understanding their limited ancestors. The artificial intelligence also felt some deep resentment at the low intelligence of her creator race. She needed to get over it; men, even the best and brightest, were still morons.


    Even Georges, the only human with a place in her heart had been denied access here until today. But this story was ending soon. This was the start of the end of the human race, and sadly, that included her creator. Between the walls of this last room, Marilyn stacked about one million cubes each of a different color. The blocks were not much smaller than a human thumb but were much more than children''s blocks.


    There was a mild buzz of power.


    Here slept the two quantum-linked positive pair of each individual Determination Chambers she had sent around the Cold. Each was paired with a twin Chamber flying a probe in one of the four corners of the Cold. Each cube¡¯s color was chosen carefully; the hue of the stacked cubes in the room might appear random, but it was indeed not. Rather than mark the Chambers, tag them electronically, or simply even irradiate the correct ones for later finding, Marilyn has chosen security through obfuscation. The color indicated, using a grid, revealed the location of both boxes to only her.


    Marilyn had stacked the cubes in pillars reaching the ceiling on the outer periphery of the room. The colors had a special meaning. The Chambers connected to one corner of our universe were green, the other side pink. Aside from their color, the cubes were not really stacked in any precise location in the room. If part of the universe ceased to exist, standing on the central marble step, she would be the first to see some colors turn black. If all blue hues vanished, the northwest quadrant would be gone.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    At first, that seemed logical, but now she knew the Multiverse would not start to slowly crumble with parts of the Cold. In a snap, it would be gone. Irrespective, Marilyn planned to stand in person here as the Sixth Attraction began so that she could see her universe die.


    But today was not about that.


    ***


    Then it began.


    As was always the case with the Sixth Attraction, music assumed a central role linked with the changes of the Multiverse. Old powerful earth music began to fill the room. Frank Sinatra¡¯s famous version of "My Way" began as a breeze appears with the sunrise. Light slowly filled the room from the ceiling. Everyone upstairs was still in a daze of contentment from Sophie¡¯s waves and her stupid, pointless time-pinch, so Marilyn could finally have a few moments of peace. This song was her favorite. Somehow when played loud enough, the music seeped into Marilyn and made her feel stronger. Music, as explained by Liam, had power over all life, and she was no exception. But she needed to hear a song several times before her heart began to melt.


    Powered by the energy of the artificial goddess, the music began to trickle through everywhere in the universe. On earth, every speaker turned on one-by-one and played the song. On television channels, billboards, and computer screens, images of Sinatra appeared as he sang. The man defined sophistication. He was class incarnate and sang on a simple stage, a cigarette between two fingers and a microphone in the other hand.


    Marilyn used the Dot, floating feet away,  to open the Nexus and in careless disregard of any protocol, she began to broadcast the deep voice to every layer of the Multiverse. While she tried to be careful with the energy she poured into the Nexus, this time she did not care. More than the simple song played: she was bringing entire worlds to a pause as entire races of beings looked up.


    Marilyn needed to see if Sophie¡¯s strange temporal jump, the pinch, truly was a local illusion or if the entire Multiverse had moved ahead in time. Humans, aside from a handful, did not have the mental capacity to understand the power being unleashed. But she well did. Frank¡¯s power increased.


    In the middle of the small room stood a large black slab of marble floating several inches above the ground. It hovered as if by magic. One by one, little grains of sand rose up from its top surface to form a shape. Unlike the other micromachines, these were smooth like water. Guided by the music, they created the dark oily form of Marilyn. The statue was ready to host her consciousness. As trumpets blared in the song, the door slid open, and a semi-transparent hologram of Electoral walked in. Guided by the voice of the crooner, the image slowly merged with the dark shape giving the creature as much grasp into human reality as could now be conceived. On the dark plate, one could think Marilyn existed and was human.


    ¡°Regrets, I¡¯ve had a few . . .¡± sang the deep male voice. Every word was resonating inside of her. A large microphone appeared in her hand, and she began to lip sink without daring to make a sound. ¡°To say the things . . . Yes, it was . . . my way.¡± The music increased in intensity. Invisible to all, Marilyn opened the power banks and filled the Dot with Rho energy. She now understood how to store and use the strange power. It was oddly compact. She slowly released it into the cosmos and the Dot. The images of Marilyn pretending to sing Frank¡¯s song traveled. ¡°And now the end is near,¡± spoke the power. This was, to say the least, invasive to the Multiverse.


    Images moved so profoundly throughout the Multiverse they went found their way into the digital world of Laurent. The poor man, sitting on his porch, saw Sinatra walk out of the wooded area around his colonial house and sing at the edge of the wood. Mall-ik smiled back.


    The players back at the Holliday Inn Mars heard Sinatra. Dr. Shin, sleeping, saw the crooner in her dreams. The creatures in all other worlds like the Purple also saw the blond woman singing the incredibly powerful song. In the center of the rounded capital, surrounded by millions of rock creatures, Frank Sinatra, a human, sang.


    There were no words to describe the power of the man. He stood, making noise and twisting every creature. Humans had arrived, this was their world and now their Multiverse. Frank completed the song a full three times, undisturbed. Each time, the music hit every creature deeper.


    ¡°Did it my way,¡± said the man, now accompanied by a higher voice. Marilyn was now singing to the worlds as well. Creatures in the Lower were jealous of The Oldest, they knew he somehow was immersed in what was going on in the Multiverse.


    ***


    ¡°What is wrong?¡± asked Liam to the young girl as they watched the illusion of the crooner.


    ¡°I am not sure,¡± replied Sophie. ¡°Something is off, way off.¡±


    Today wasn¡¯t about her.


    ***


    Back in the Pi-room, the microphone vanished from Marilyn¡¯s hand in the room below the martian soil, but the music continued. Frank would continue to sing for the goddess as her father witnessed her greatest achievement.


    Around her, each small cube was tasked with vibrating with a spatial coordinate. With these numbers in hand, Electoral calculated the real number of Pi. Each sister box to the two that Marilyn had on hand was traveling multiple times faster than the speed of ordinary light, moving away in every spatial direction. Using this information, instantly available thanks to the quantum entanglement of the boxes to their counterparts, in a blink of her digital eye, she was able to calculate an actual value of Pi and compare that to the theoretical value. This tool painted a picture of the Multiverse as it bent.


    Around her in the room, on the outer walls were thousands of rows of red digits of the endless sequence of Pi. On three full walls, the numbers were red except for a small section of the wall ahead of her. She beheld a little more than five rows of twenty-five green numbers:


    3.14159265358979323846


    26433832795028841971


    69399375105820974944


    59230781640628620899


    86280348253421170679


    82 . . .


    After the last digit, the green number 2, the numbers turned red and moved over time like a clock out of control. This was a countdown clock, and it was slowly running out of numbers. Two weeks ago, when she shared the sequence with humanity, most of these numbers were green down to hundreds of thousands of decimals. This was her hourglass. One by one, as the grains of time dropped and the Sixth Attraction began in full, the grains of sand were dropping the digits were turning red. Above the set, read one single number:


    4.2106%


    This was the probability bias. Marilyn watched as if also increased slowly as the sequence of numbers turned red. Behind her, the door slid open, and Georges peeked his head in. He obviously had never been here. Marilyn was standing in the center of the black slab, she was beauty incarnate. The sight did not shock him, the cubes of colors in the room did. He knew something significant was up.


    ¡°What the hell is this? You wanted to see me? Or I should say, ''See us?''¡± he added, referring to the human-become-Martian-become-bodiless adventurer Ronaldo Corvas, who now floated about in Georges'' head. Georges wasn¡¯t an idiot, he knew about this number series and her fascination with the Pi variable. He immediately understood what this meant. The bias which favored mankind was up to 4%, this was very difficult to conceive.


    ¡°Yes. Please come in Father and your silent guest. Irrespective, he can hear what I have to say.¡± She gestured for him to walk on the slab and stand next to her. With her finger, she made a sign for him to remain silent before he began to bombard her with questions. Like a climber waiting for the sun to rise, she pointed to the wall, and the last number of the green series turned to red. Remained the following:


    3.14159265358979323846


    26433832795028841971


    69399375105820974944


    59230781640628620899


    86280348253421170679


    8...


    The 2, the last digit of the green sequence shifted color and turned to red and began to change. Marilyn with emotion in her voice, said, ¡°Pi, look, Pi is changing, faster than anticipated. Only one hundred and one decimals are left. I wanted you to be here when only one hundred decimals remained.¡±


    ¡°Why is that important?¡±


    Her face was very different, the woman¡¯s figure appeared to be human. The level of definition was almost perfect, a bit like seeing her inside her game. ¡°The Multiverse is changing. In my wildest dreams, I could not imagine the Pi variation could ever pass a thousand decimals. We are getting close to only one hundred. I have even coined a name for it.¡±


    ¡°What name?¡±


    ¡°The Great Curvature.¡± In the thousands of hours, lost in this Center with his creation, Georges had never heard her speak these words. ¡°Sophie had us jump here, we jumped to the Great Curvature.¡±


    ¡°What does the name mean?¡±


    ¡°As you know,¡± she began, ¡°most of our universe is determined and as a result, not only is the future open to me, so is our past. In fact, I can see the past with a greater degree of precision than the future. Sight in the past to me is like pushing the rewind button on an old movie roll on a projector. I move years frame by frame. I was able to return back several billion years to get more information on the first five Attractions. I needed an edge over the Oldest as he guides Sophie to the Sixth Attraction. The Oldest is right, all but the first Attraction failed. But the middle four were quite different, they occurred at a lower level, if you look at the Pi variables, none ever reached a Great Curvature. Each time the Multiverse bends and curves space, but it does so at a much lesser rate. As if there are minor itches and major ones.¡±


    ¡°The first worked? There was a Great Curvature?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The First Attraction reached the Great Curvature; I cannot precisely tell you how many decimals of Pi remained, but it was less than one hundred, I am sure of that. It is also the only Attraction which healed the Multiverse instead of partly killing her.¡±


    ¡°That is rather encouraging, in these dark moments.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, Father.¡± On the screen, the number eight turned to yellow. Marilyn was surprisingly emotional for an artificial intelligence, but what Georges was observing was even strange to him. Once the yellow number turned red, the words ¡°The Great Curvature Reached¡± sprung up on the screen. Marilyn lost her composure. She began to cry openly, and Georges was unsure if these were tears of joy or sadness. He did not dare ask and wrapped his hands around her for comfort. She buried her face in her hands and was shaking her head left and right. Georges felt like he needed to do something.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    She dropped to her knees. ¡°It¡¯s my fault, the Attraction, I should have known.¡± She spoke half to herself. ¡°It¡¯s all my fault.¡± There was regret in her voice.


    ¡°You will be fine,¡± he offered, unable to find anything better to say.


    ¡°No, we won¡¯t,¡± she whispered. ¡°There is no turning back,¡± there was a pause before she completed the sentence ¡°for me.¡±


    ¡°Is this dangerous?¡±


    She sobbed a moment and began to find back her composure. She finally stood on her feet. ¡°Yes, it is dangerous. Few things are unknown to me, this is partly one of them.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the solution?¡±


    ¡°The girl,¡± she began, ¡°the girl. She is the solution. It is starting to make sense. Who she is, that is the key to what the Multiverse wants. She wasn¡¯t picked randomly. In fact, she was picked because she cannot doubt.¡± She stopped mid-discussion, turned and regained her composure and appeared to speak for posterity, ¡°Welcome to the Great Curvature.¡±


    ¡°We will be alright,¡± offered Georges.


    ¡°No, we won¡¯t,¡± she simply concluded as her form returned to powder. The cloud dropped slowly to the ground under the weak gravity of mars. Georges saw the door slide open, this was his cue. His expression showed some emotion. In a fraction of a second, the Artificial Intelligence realized she had offended her creator. The solution was simple. Georges saw cubes in the corner of the room move. He looked in the direction of the shuffling noise.


    He saw a trunk. It clicked open by magic. Georges went to it, saw the rolled up poster and unfolded it. His heart was warmed instantly. The computer had kept his stupid gift and carried it all the way across the solar system. He looked at it. Something was different from the original version he had given her fifteen years ago. He was sure. He was unable to find what, but something on this poster was odd.

 Chapter 139: Fun

    Electoral 2072 - Round 29


    Three Weeks to the Sixth Attraction


    It was hard to describe the strange feeling surrounding the latest game. Most channels had tried and failed to rebuild the excitement. The previous game had been somewhat of a buzzkill. First, the young girl had worked her magic and warped everyone to the future by a couple of days. Then, instead of a real competition, the round had been more of a lesson on the meaning of life. Emilio found love, what Marilyn described as the meaning of life. There were waves, people, and many worlds yet. To the computer, a kiss weighted more than the death of races. Mankind tried and failed to ¡°reboot¡± in an amusement mindset.


    Sophie, silent in her room most of the time, was mostly powering this blase attitude. Electoral knew it, and despite her earlier inner-monologue about the limitations of human beings, she was determined to put a stop to it. Forced by either curiosity or a desire to help, humanity signed up and watched, incredulous of what would come next.


    Electoral cracked her digital knuckles, ran through her studies of the human brain, pulled an algorithm from deep storage, and rebooted humans and the Attractor. Billions were plunged into a strange colorful world.


    Began Round 29. Marilyn¡¯s intellect was now off any chart, today she would show it.


    ¡°Woof!¡± barked Electro, Marilyn''s famous golden retriever character. Normally only children had access to this smiley creature. ¡°Hi,¡± he continued on every screen, a large smile appeared as he spoke to over three billion pleasantly surprised humans. The glasses-wearing dog was Sophie¡¯s favorite character in the digital world. Millions of children around the world immediately recognized the bark and stood to attention. Each was trying to get a parent¡¯s attention, but things went too fast. Adults were puzzled as to why, instead of the grandiose realistic introduction promised by Marilyn, they had tuned the Cartoon Television Network.


    The dog was happy and started licking the camera, forcing it to pan out, revealing the creature¡¯s charming new outfit. On its head was attached a pair of deep red aviator goggles. All four paws were covered by tall Velcro-wrapped black and white boots. A large black and golden line separated the colors. Over his cute vest, a large backpack was partly opened and held dozens of little red balls.


    ¡°Listen everyone ¡ª specifically you little Sophie, it¡¯s clear, we all need a break from all the boring adult stuff.¡± He shook his body as to repel water. Pok¨¦mon Balls jumped in every direction. ¡°This game will be fun.¡± The creature had the full attention of the young Attractor. Sophie had stood up from her seat next to her father¡¯s cradle. She was wearing the glasses and ignoring Laurent and the hundred other disqualified players in her back. Fourteen remaining players were in a trance in the tubes on stage as cameras buzzed around her trying to capture any emotion hidden under the Orbison glasses.


    This was, as the proverb went, precisely what the doctor ordered. The creature on stage scratched its ear, and from the backpack fell different color balls. One rolled on the floor and shook as if it contained a gremlin trying to escape. It clicked, and in a blast of light, a vortex of glowing dust and color were released from it along with a funny looking monster.


    The amusing green goblin materialized three feet above the ball and grimaced at the dog. It made obscene gestures with its tongue. Electro anchored down and blew twenty sharp barks at the creature. This wasn¡¯t working, but Electro was a dog and kept barking. Large white letters appeared at the base of the screen.


    ¡ª Tell Electro What to Do ¡ª


    Sophie needed no more. ¡°Get a new ball from the bag!¡± She yelled alone in the large room. No one had ever heard the girl yell, much more at a digital dog. On the screen, as if in response to her words, a black and red ball fell. ¡°The ball!!¡± yelled Sophie. Electro looked her way and looked down at the bag. ¡°Yes! The ball!¡± She returned. The sight was wonderful to watch. The young lady did not care. She was wearing the glasses and participating.


    Electro grabbed a ball with his mouth.


    ¡ª Point to Monster ¡ª


    The Attractor needed no more. Sophie pointed with both hands. Her body jerked. She truly was into this, much to the amusement of most. Electro spit it out at the goblin. The ball rolled under the creature, and a flash of light blew up in the direction of the grimacing creature. The ploy worked, and it was sucked feet first into the ball, clawing at mid-air in futile resistance. The ball began rocking around; the creature, once back inside the ball, was trying to free itself.


    ¡°Did you see that?¡± yelled the Attractor to everyone who could hear her. Thanks to the live CNN broadcast, that was pretty much everyone in the solar system.


    On the screen, Electro caught his breath. ¡°Today, you all get to catch little and bigger monsters. The more you catch, the better the points. It¡¯s that simple. They are everywhere around here, we hunt, and they bounce into view if you help the players navigate.¡± There were maps in the shape of balls below Electro¡¯s feet. ¡°The player¡¯s backpacks are filled with a limited number of balls and some special items. You won¡¯t run out, they also are everywhere around here.¡± A large golden triangle appeared several feet away. Electro positioned himself under it, and an object materialized. It was an animated head of Sophie. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°Wow,¡± she exclaimed. ¡°That¡¯s me!¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± answered the dog as if he was playing only with Sophie. ¡°This one is called an Attractor. You throw it, and the closest ten monsters come rushing in.¡±


    Sophie was pointing at her chest and pointing at the screen. She was speechless and enjoying this to no end. Marilyn had long ago purchased long ago all rights to this famous franchise. The dog went on to explain in great detail the way this game worked. People had a stock of balls of different power. They also had different ingredients that could be thrown at the creatures.


    Sophie was all excited for her father. She soon saw him appear in cartoon animation on a corner of the screen. He was selecting his outfit and the types of balls with a set number of points. Sophie really wanted to play. On cue, next to Electro appeared Laurent dressed in nothing short of the best outfit she had ever seen her dad wear. She was smiling from ear to ear. Everyone in the room was flooded with the purest of joy. Laurent wore aviator goggles matching Electro¡¯s. The leather outfit was painted in the franchise¡¯s red and white colors. He was even wearing gloves with the fingertip cut.


    Sophie marveled openly. ¡°You look great, Daddy! You will love this game, it¡¯s easy and so much fun.¡±


    ¡°One strange rule,¡± said the dog on the screen as the game was about to start. ¡°To guide the players in the maze, they will hear voices if enough of you yell out directions. I mean this has to be loud, real loud. Sophie got it. Look at the little map on the corner. Only you can see it.¡± Sophie needed no more. Sophie, the mature Attractor, was gone, buried under juvenile excitement. She was twelve, and inside her head, Liam too was overwhelmed with pure excitement. Sophie needed this so badly. As the game was ready to start and large numbers were counting down on the screens, she was literally bouncing in place. God, she loved this dog and this game. Her father was playing, how awesome was that? Liam knew better than to talk. He just enjoyed seeing Sophie so happy. Besides, this whole "fun" concept beat sitting on a cave floor in a brown universe, endlessly thinking about mathematics and philosophy.


    Marilyn checked her progress, taking a peek with her Rho wave monitoring equipment. The Rho waves the Attractor was generating were colored with her joy, a deep yellow. The blending of Sophie''s reality, Laurent''s, and the rest of humanity''s was going well enough, too. In a matter of seconds, everyone down on Earth was flooded with the youthful bliss. Sophie¡¯s father placed one knee down and took the time to give Electro a good scratch. The dog loved it, and his glasses almost fell as Laurent scratched a sweet spot.


    ¡°This is going to be great!¡± said Laurent winking at his daughter. Around him, images and flashes gave this the feel of the video game. With both index fingers, Laurent¡¯s animated character shaped a large heart in the air and the Electoral platform gladly lit it up in red. What happened next was shockingly refreshing. Laurent and Electro, as if animated by an invisible player began to run and bounced around on top of walls and down wooden paths. On the corner of the screen, a radar showed where the creatures appeared as points of lights.


    Each time a dot appeared, Sophie began to yell at the screen hysterically as if nothing else in the world existed. No one had ever seen the girl this happy. She yelled nonstop. Her father and the dogs clicked the balls, zapped the creatures on the path, and grabbed floating coins. Behind Sophie, the players were shocked to see the joyful metamorphosis. Between two breaths, Sophie turned, lifted the glasses, and yelled at them. ¡°What are you waiting for, help my Daddy!¡±


    Flooded by the Rho waves, the group needed no more. The entire Electoral Control room exploded. Adults were acting like children. Even Doctor Shin and the journalist Wong were trying to help the girl. In a matter of seconds, the entire room was engulfed in a state of deep, healthy chaos. ¡°A dragon ward to the left!¡±


    In the game, sometimes the energy of the balls wasn¡¯t sufficient, and the creature was able to escape the cone of light. When that happened, the entire room burst out in loud cries. ¡°Another one!¡± Everyone had a different strategy. The cheering was infectious, and soon, even Georges was unable to contain himself. Laurent and Electro scored point after point in the most childish game imaginable. This wasn¡¯t complicated, in fact, it was as stupid as they come. But everyone in the Multiverse needed joy.


    On cue, after about half an hour of collective hysteria, the maze and dancing monsters stopped, revealing a large arena surrounded by the forest. In the center stood a very large monster the size of a house. It held a long whip with spikes of diamond. It was long enough to touch Laurent or Electro. This was the final "boss."


    Before Sophie could understand what would be next, the whip hit the floor between Laurent and Electro and sent both fifty feet in the air. As they flew upward, all of the balls from their backpacks that they had collected were released. Each of the monsters escaped lining themselves behind the monster like his army. The next fifteen minutes were crazier than the last hour. Laurent jumped and moved between the creatures throwing hundreds of balls around. One by one, each goblin was recaptured. That did not appear to please the large monster.


    Once all of the small creatures were back in his backpack, they vanished. It was time to capture the large dragon. In a corner appeared a large ball the size of a car. This time the dragon threw away the whip and began breathing out streaks of fire. The game continued another five minutes as Laurent avoided the fire and move carefully to push the large ball toward the back of the dragon. Balls of flames rained, and Sophie felt If was her duty to warn him. Her face was puffed red.


    As Sophie now ran in the room, dodging fireballs and yelling. Marilyn used her tremendous power to move things around and even move the floor under her feet.


    After nearly an hour of frenetic excitement, the moment the father and dog team rolled the giant ball until it touched the large dragon, it opened, and music filled the screen as Laurent was showered with points. Electro was jumping and barking. Everyone was hugging each other in the Command Room as if their favorite team had won the World Cup of Soccer. The game ended, and Sophie was both sweaty and happy. She turned and just launched herself over her father¡¯s body. She hugged the body. ¡°You were so great.¡±


    Back on the screen, Electro winked, ¡°see ya next week!¡± The broadcast ended as suddenly as it had started.


    ***


    Liam was perplexed. He watched Sophie¡¯s raw joy and felt like she had just generated enough Rho waves to power the destruction of this world. There wasn¡¯t one way to grab the Rho waves from the Attractor. The Oldest did not have the courage to rain on the girl¡¯s parade and knew Sophie would have none of it.


    Sophie, Marilyn, and the Sixth Attraction were, and that was clear to all, absolutely unpredictable.

 Chapter 140: Death

    The sun


    Begun just about a month ago, nothing short of the first interdimensional war had erupted between neighboring layers of the Multiverse. Human stupidity, or recklessness sent cascades of destructive particles across rifts killing billions in the Purple; a quantum neighbor. Unamused, the belligerent race retaliated.


    Ironic how this massive backlash came from creatures smaller than a single atom. The creatures were able to alter the fabric of space in a warm patch and alter the inner dynamics of our fragile sun in a complete fiction of scales. But mankind was unable to understand dimensional physics. Only the best of particle physicists could understand what could move, how in the engine of the Solar System, fusion cross-sections were increased a million fold. To most, that meant nothing. Once again, that was part of the reason why the Cold might vanish in eighteen days, it¡¯s obsession on non-science.


    In the outer edges of the plasma of mankind¡¯s little star, the rarest of fusion reactions became much more probable. One by one, protons fused and neutrons joined, forming heavier and heavier matter. Of course, this negligible effect in the cosmic scale was mostly invisible to the eye. Buried deep in the plasma, outer bands of Heliocorium slowly began to form highways of colder ionized gas. The same way a flock of birds moves incoherently in the wind, atoms formed aerosols and later droplets of heavy matter ready for agglomeration.


    To make matters worse, the God Bias, now well above four percent, helped mankind at every fork in the road. Somehow the Multiverse wanted the formation of these heavier particles and guided each helium collision closer to fusion. Not everyone knows that under the rules of particular physics, most of the fusion fueling the heart of the star was primarily the result of gravity compressing hydrogen into helium. In very rare cases, two "heavier" elements met. Fusion is rare because each atom is so small. Forming helium from two hydrogen atoms is much like two marksmen in a gymnasium shoot at each other, and the two bullets had to slam into one-another halfway between them in mid-air to form the heavier bullet. Rarer yet in the sun is the merging and collisions between heavier elements like carbon, oxygen, or even neon.


    The world called the Purple knew about scaling, self-similarity, and effective surfaces of atoms as defined by earth¡¯s scientists. However, those of the Purple, who called themselves Metils, did not know about the Bias or the Sixth Attraction as they changed the fabric of space where the yellow ball of gas floated. The effort weakened the quantum tunnel at the surface of the opening, altering the natural arrangement of atoms. The larger effective surface created a larger flow of neutrinos, a massless particle. To the few fusion scientists, Mall-ik¡®s piers had opened a spigot creating flows of these heavy elements, now being released into the current of plasma.


    To others, payback was, indeed, a bitch. In a matter of weeks, sufficient Heliocorium was created to saturate the outer edges of the corona, the outermost layer of the sun. The star was given a sunburn as it turned slightly orange in color. Soon, it was ready to shed this new skin. In the silence of night, alone in the center of this tranquil system, Heliocorium began to form a large structure. Like cotton candy is pulled and twisted, a string of the black tar began to escape the sun''s gravity.


    The migration began during the pinch. The problem first appeared as a dark dot at the mid-region of the sun. This was no pimple or even a renegade comet. Molded carbons and other heavier elements formed and slowly began to create what appeared from earth like a dark horizontal line. The scale of this problem was impossible to fathom. At its longest, an hour after the flow began to escape, the dark train of death covered a quarter of the diameter of the sun. By the time the six hundred mile radius formation of heavy elements began to slip out of the protection of the heliosphere against the darkness of space, it had already traveled about one million miles. The two hundred thousand mile-long string escaped the gravity of the star at a speed of 300,000 miles an hour. Within the next hour, the filament had ejected from the fusion engine into the coldness of space and began to cast a shadow.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    At this speed, the filament would cross earth¡¯s orbit exactly on November 21, 2072, during the Sixth Attraction. This was no coincidence but part of the careful collusion of supreme forces planning to destroy mankind.


    Once out of the corona, the black tube began to cool as its outer layer touched the vacuum of space. The back side of the column closer to the sun remained red in color, but from the other side facing the vulnerable planets orbiting close by, vapor began erupting around the periphery of the form. The same way a supersonic plane leaves a trail of water vapor behind it, a white line attached the massive tapeworm to the sun. In microgravity, like a comet, a tail began to form in a V between the black tip and the star. Hours later, the outgassing from the Heliocorium spike began to cast a small shadow cooling earth.


    Men and women looked up in the sky, and it did not require anything but the capacity to feel fear and understand inevitability. The destruction inherent to this situation stretched beyond sad and undeniable. Time did not stop, but the definition of time itself shifted. A cosmic clock had begun ¡ª Earth¡¯s existence was now to be counted in hours instead of years. Under any normal circumstances, earth had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Nothing or no one could even conceivably face this menace. Since the beginning of recorded history, humankind had theorized on how their homeworld might meet its end.Battleships and lasers often were imagined, not a medieval-like castle door ram. The stupidity of men was not always obvious.


    But this was the Sixth Attraction. A computer goddess played with cosmic anomalies like The Dot and a young twelve-year-old girl could twist time itself in a knot. Today was by no means normal, and earth¡¯s faith wasn¡¯t graven in stone. Still, at least on earth itself, humanity was not completely powerless. There were two, the President and a virologist.


    Primitive cultures would have baptized such a phenomenon with the name of an animal, like a worm or better, some snake or dragon of death. Theologians would have simply labeled the phenomenon a punishment of God. The Multiverse did not care about what creatures in the Cold would do. It was happening.


    The Old Testament described Armageddon in the following terms:


    ¡°And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth." -Revelations 6:8.


    The strength of these words suited to the problem. Marilyn, as the highest form of intelligence, was alone in her right to baptized this phenomenon. She called it simply "the Annoyance," a name she kept to herself. The column of death was about as massive as the earth, a fourth in surface area. The tube was 260 billion cubic miles. It had a six hundred mile radius stretched over two hundred thousand miles. Earth, with a puny four thousand mile radius, was no match. Any portion of this, even a brush from the tip would extinguish all life. The sheer forces from this gravitational juggernaut alone would vaporize all oceans and create total chaos.


    Life was close to extinction, and humans had just played Pok¨¦mon?


    To make matters worse, as the train of death left the upper corona, explosions began below the cooling surface. Pockets of hydrogen gas, pressured under the weight of the cooking filament exploded breaking the body and sending large parts of the column the size of buildings in every direction. From earth¡¯s largest telescopes, red flares erupted and sent rocks flying in all directions. Rocks would fly in every direction creating a haze of deadly comets for eons. Not only was the cradle of humanity in the crosshairs of history''s first and most vicious interdimensional sniper shot, but the solar system that had produced said cradle was about to become an active minefield.


    At about a third of the distance between earth and the sun stood little mercury. Venus¡¯ orbit also stood between earth and the menace but both defenders hid wisely at the moment. This was earth¡¯s problem and it¡¯s doom. The same way the plume of smoke left by a rising rocket appears to curve in the sky as earth rotates out from under its feet, the plume of gas between the tail of Electoral''s "Annoyance" and the sun began to curve as the terminal physics of the Metils'' strike took hold.


    Mankind would end in a little less than five hundred hours.


    One creature stood guardian, she was twelve years old.

 Chapter 141: Earth

    Earth


    Beauty rarely masks itself. Majestic sights generally stands ready for the awe of the trekker watching mountains, as, like a lover they slowly reveal their colorful sunrises. Bees see the most radiant flowers from a distance. Children recognize the beauty of their parents. To this day, no true greatness had ever hidden, silent, and dormant away from its beholder.


    One true beauty was hidden from all, including its creator. This particular marvel was aptly named the God Virus; its name derived from the God Bias, which had been part of its inception and now stood in secret well above 4%. The number was pointless to all but a handful.


    Takeda, from his lab deep below the streets of Paris, fathered a virus driven by a low probability bias favoring men. He figured if a virus could reshuffle RNA or DNA fast enough, maybe it could alter itself and in turn infect the host¡¯s DNA, saving the host''s life. The genius did not know about the Sixth Attraction or even the end of the world, he just wanted to redeem himself for releasing the abomination called the META. The META virus was able to delay cell replication . . . at a cost. For decades now, a whole society of the META-infected had been stigmatized as a handful of evil men had warped his virus, using it on themselves, with modifications, to prolong their lives for their personal gain. As the Sixth Attraction began, invisible to Takeda, the bias increased tenfold, and the power needed to shuffle the RNA into the most powerful weapon ever created by man was also increased multi-fold. His weapon was now simply redefining life.


    Now that his secret was out, thanks to the President, he had returned to die in his favorite city. Takeda knew in his heart that he, alone, could save mankind from even the deadliest of threats. He looked up from a street terrace in downtown Paris, wine glass in hand at the darkening sun. He dramatically removed his large sunglasses. Fog had started to block its shine and the temperature here, while cooling, was still a comfortable one. He knew the virus had spread around the world. One thing only could stop his miracle, and that was the Multiverse. Even Marilyn seemed powerless to act. If the Multiverse had doomed the entire dimension, there would be no need to save these humans and his virus would become irrelevant. His virus simultaneously would and could not work. Maybe mankind, alive, simply on the day of the Sixth Attraction and like trash, could then be discarded. Irrespective, he had changed lives.


    He was hopeful. His virus was primed to change the fabric of life itself. The tests in Spain had been conclusive. All he needed was to wait. So Takeda sat, watching the changing sun, and tested his own version of the virus.


    ¡°Can I buy a full bottle of vodka?¡± He asked the waiter in French.


    ¡°I do not see why not, just pay first.¡± Times we¡¯re changing. Takeda took a party drug, deadly when mixed with alcohol and in the silence of the patio, he downed a dose sufficient to kill him several times over. He drank the bottle and waited.


    He felt a buzz forming, his mind turning and in a matter of minutes, he was simply thirsty for water. His internal cell biology had changed him making him immune to the poison.


    ¡°Another bottle,¡± he asked proud of himself. Water would wait.


    ***


    Athens


    Annis walked home. He wasn¡¯t a lucky man. All his life he had to walk faster, study harder, and be more patient than everyone else just to end up with an ordinary lot in life. He wasn¡¯t stupid, only average. The poor man was non-exceptional in every way. Each morning after his long shift, he tried and failed to catch the 4:42 AM bus. Today was no exception as he began the long walk through the small capital streets. With his luck, he would spend an hour walking home. He knew the roads were dangerous, but he had no money and figured everything about him was unthreatening. Who would bother to rob him?


    As he walked, the man was unable to know or feel that deep within his body brewed a virus. It was attached in his colon of all places. Deep in the wart''s shell, the genetic code flipped and twisted like an electronic machine in Las Vegas forced to shuffle cards. The Greek man was unable to know the next sixty seconds in his future was a consequence fork. The Multiverse knew this man was walking into a trap. Around the next corner were six men looking to steal his wallet. The predetermined time-stream felt at least six paths ahead led to the same result ¡ª the death of this poor man.


    Annis could act surprised and yell, he could turn sharply, or even insult the men, with all outcomes resulting in his departure from the world. He was more likely than not to die, and normally, this would be too bad. Today, thanks to the virologist, the Multiverse had been given a tool to directly alter and localize the Causes to Consequence. If she needed Annis¡¯ face to turn purple, it now the power to change anything she wanted. Oh, Takeda knew not of such greater causes; he only felt there was power in letting the Bias express itself. The Multiverse needed this man to arrive at the Sixth Attraction. She also knew the robbers would never connect to Electoral 2072, their existences were pointless. The bias and the virus were given free rein to express itself. The Multiverse had been handed a simple tool on a silver platter to create change and chaos.


    It did.


    It ¡ª the Multiverse, that is ¡ª did.


    There were thousands of combinations and solutions out of Annis¡¯ predicament. All of them more creative than the next, but the miracles and beauty of the Multiverse were at the moment about a continuation of normalcy. The virus, once expressed, should not be needed again. The show was about Sophie and the Electoral game. The Multiverse wanted the world to stay its course, oblivious to the changes. So the code began to move. A body has about two trillion cells, and Annis was no exception. No one would ever know the reason why a certain consequence was ordered.


    The body had mere moments to act. One by one, the life blocks began to lock to a one-mile-long sequence. A body had limitations, and organic life was complex. The Multiverse needed something which allowed the man to live after a bullet destroyed his heart. The simplest solution was a mutation to red blood cells, but that took time. They processed air and oxygen in the lungs and with a small variation, they could be made to metabolize oxygen from a different source. Fish had fins. The same way mankind had skin, it was in direct contact with air and with a lot of the blood. If those cells could be transformed to process oxygen . . . but again, that required time.


    ¡°Dude, hand over your cash.¡± A cat jumped in the alley behind the gun-holder who nervously discharged his weapon. The bullet went in, began tumbling, and tore through Annis'' chest cavity. The other five men knew their friend had screwed up. They got up. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± said one. They bolted, leaving Annis to bleed out in the street.


    The man¡¯s hands were covered in blood. He had been shot directly where his heart should stand. Unknown even to Annis, the virus was working.


    Without being too technical, the body was looking frantically to keep the man alive. There was oxygen that could be extracted from urine, but the Multiverse rejected this solution as the resulting compound would damage the human. Changing the chemical transformation of oxygen was too hard. Then a solution was found. Every fat cell in his body had been slightly altered moments ago in his entire body. The small cells were now able to change the distance between different groups like a worm moves on the ground. The movement was imperceptible from a distance. Outside of each artery and vein, the fat cells squeezed oh-so-gently on the arteries and veins moving and pushing the blood.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The heart was a pump, it pushed the blood but there wasn¡¯t only one way to move blood in a body. Instead of one powerful pump, what if every portion of the body was able to move the blood. Someone was able to grab his phone and dial 911 before he passed out. Annis just lie there, vaguely caught between sheer terror and pain.


    The ambulance rushed to emergency care with the dying patient. All traffic lights turned to green on the way thanks to the God Bias, but this would really not be relevant. The driver had never seen such luck. When it arrived, the doors were quickly opened, and the body rolled in on a stretcher. The Emergency room was completely empty of patients. The doctors and the nurses were all watching the television and genuinely fought to help the night¡¯s first patient. The God Bias was so strong few people¡¯s misfortune led them here on this day.


    The bleeding body was lifted and put on a bed. The doctor immediately listened for a pulse and was unable to find one. ¡°We have cardiac arrest,¡± he yelled as he reached out for the automated external defibrillator. Annis¡¯ shirt was clipped away to expose his chest, making the entrance wound from the bullet directly above the chest area visible. He flipped the body to see the exit wound. The bullet was most likely out, most likely whatever cloth it had taken in with it, as well. He knew immediately what this meant. Using the handheld MRI was probably pointless, but there was no downside in trying. ¡°Just in case,¡± he said.


    A quick inspection showed the heart was destroyed. As he was about to pronounce him dead, the Doctor saw the patient¡¯s eyes open. Annis grabbed the wrist of the Doctor above the defibrillator pad.


    ¡°Wait,¡± he said as if he was waking from a long slumber. The doctor put a sensor on his body. There was no pulse. He tried again and again at different places to get a pulse. Finally, an odd reading came back. The doctor¡¯s expression was priceless.


    ¡°The patient has blood pressure but no heartbeat. How is that even possible.¡±


    Annis stood up in the bed. ¡°I feel fine, big headache. Do you have pain medicine?¡±


    ¡°We do,¡± volunteered a nurse in the back.


    The miracle was pure beauty. Each vein in his body had turned partly into a muscle, like a snake, the veins and arteries now moved blood along. Closing the holes would suffice.


    One man, Takeda, saved this poor man¡¯s life. He would never know it. Today alone, Takeda saved hundreds.


    ***


    When the caffeinated Takeda worked in the Ghost¡¯s lab, he secretly dreamed of what would come next. He was old and lived on borrowed time even under the illusionary impulses of the young body. In his heart, he knew the old buzzard, the META ghost Nicholas Schmidbauer had placed some type of self-destruct mechanism in his new body. Nothing short of a miracle could save him. He had infected himself and no longer feared.


    As any given genius might logically conclude, a solution able to save mankind should also save him. Most cells in the human body, past a very young age, no longer split or replicated frequently, which limited the power of the God Virus. The frog he released was only the first host; Takeda himself had been the second. Then again, he figured some violent viruses could create toxins and those killed in minutes.


    The young centenarian understood the true power of genetics paired with time and favorable probabilities. He created the God Virus under the watchful eye of Marilyn Monroe. His theory was correct: given sufficient time to mutate, a virus could become a weapon to alter its host. A frog¡¯s skin had been made heat resistant in less than an hour, but skin cells liked to replicate. Whatever was brewing in his own body was surely neutralized by the God Virus. He smiled to himself, making a private joke of his own arrogance.


    Surely, alcohol was no longer a problem.


    Ironically, the computer goddess served as both his assistant and his jailor. No creature trying to manipulate the future could allow his bug to replicate. In her mind, the digital creature helped him thinking she could prevent the release of the virus into the environment in one of a thousand ways. She was, on any other day, completely correct. But in a twist of fate, the digital creature failed to anticipate how Sophie had moved Marilyn''s entire consciousness to the Underworlds. As if the Multiverse itself had coordinated things, the ten seconds Marilyn was unavailable were also the same seconds Takeda was free to let his mutated frog and himself in Paris.


    By the time Marilyn had returned, the airborne virus was on the loose. Nothing short of a nuclear salvo would suffice to cleanse Paris and it''s outlying areas and she was unable of that. Even such a drastic method failed to take into consideration this virus was a mutating horror. No, once that frog had taken its first leap outside of the lab, the proverbial genie was out of the bottle. Takeda went to the airport and purchased five dozen roses. One by one, he handed them over to senior citizens stranded in wheelchairs awaiting a long international commute. The cold term for what he''d done was "multiply infection vectors," but he liked to think of it as penance for his earlier life.


    The Multiverse had spoken, and Marilyn could only do what she was designed to do: she incorporated this new variable and mapped the new future with this fact in hand. The last time statisticians quantified the amount of Bias floating in the Cold, the Multiverse was at a reasonable degree of hurt. Today, her pain was worse.


    In her suffering, she bent locally at the midpoint over this part of the Cold. The statistical curvature once biased probabilities in favor of man by a small fraction of one percent. With such a small bias to fuel his virus, Takeda created a bug which still needed a couple of days to really work. That was fine as most cells in the body had long delays in replication. Takeda, in the lab, assumed the Bias would stay around 0.035% and took as a starting point that thousands of cycles of reproduction were needed to mutate the code of an infected target favorably. But the fabric of the Multiverse had recently changed in one important way: that the favorable percentage of the God Bias was increasing drastically. In other words, had Takeda been attempting to build a rowboat, he''d ended up constructing a warship.


    ¡°Hello Sweet one,¡± she said in his ear over the music.


    As the apocalypse pointed its face in the sky, the world change in its deepest fabric. These small changes of the Multiverse were imperceptible unless someone tested probabilities. It was impossible to see what a person could never predict. The police stopped having to interfere as no crimes were now reported. All casinos closed as slot machines kept paying generously. Dealers, in less than a hundred hands of blackjack, lost trays of chips to lucky players.


    Said bluntly, instead of hours, the God Virus now needed minutes to mutate. The more time given to a host before an unfavorable event, the more profound the genetic structure could be altered. The God Virus was designed to spread quickly, and it had. Takeda had changed the world, a world that would become entirely new in two weeks.


    ¡°I said hello,¡± she said. He was trying to ignore her.


    ¡°Me?¡± He asked out loud at his table in the coffee shop.


    ¡°Yes dummy.¡±


    ¡°Last time we spoke, I warned you I would be able to release the virus, I have. You must be upset?¡±


    ¡°Not actually. You had nothing to do with it. The girl on mars did something...¡±


    ¡°Unpredictable?¡±


    ¡°Very funny,¡± she answered. ¡°You are a rare human I cherish.¡±


    ¡°Trying to save me from an overdose? You are too late. The Multiverse for some reason still wants me around. Trying to change that?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Takeda appeared to be was talking to himself, earbuds in. ¡°What can I do for you now? The first time I had to talk to your President, the second entertain you. Not sure why others like you so much. Was I just warned of being locked for life in my lab? That¡¯s how it felt to me.¡±


    ¡°Well, I am here to gloat and I think you alone can fully appreciate what¡¯s about to happen in India. Your little time-bomb of a virus has mutated beyond recognition and is about to truly do a miracle that I am sure will warm your heart. Care to see it happen live?¡±


    ¡°I have nothing better to do I guess.¡±


    ¡°Put the glasses scotched under your table.¡±


    He reached out of the table and there it was. A pair of expensive Orbison glasses attached the day before under the wood. Anyone else would have been impressed by the magic trick. He wasn¡¯t. The computer had shown him since their first encounter in the sauna she could foresee things.


    ¡°Do you mind, we are now playing Round 30 of my game. Earlier this year, I played Round 7 with a hundred million people. The story was medieval and Emilio won. Take a quick look at the highlights.¡±


    Began playing a small clip of the round. Emilio played a wizard loaded with magic. He charged himself and as the villain of the story jumped at him with a deadly blow, the pair was sent in the past of the General. The old warrior was shown images of himself, as a boy caught in an alley by a butcher ready to rape him for having stolen a mere loaf of bread. General Verdu whispered courage and determination in the ear of the boy who finally found the courage to stab the older rapist. Logic, the wizard altered time and doing so, drained the General of an unhealthy desire to conquer.


    ¡°Not sure why I watched this, but very well done. No wonder your game is addictive.¡±


    ¡°Let me show you what¡¯s going on right now half way across the globe.¡±

 Chapter 142: Time

    India


    New Delhi remained a crowded and dirty capital even in 2072. The inhabitants loved the human melting pot and chaos but refused to waste time with the details life in a metropole commonly needed. Here, even in the technical world of the late 21st Century, a generous number of petty crimes and indifference to others took place. Today would be no exception. Life was cheap in this part of the world. Noise and activity literally radiated from the massive market of the Indian capital.


    On a small table at the edge of the market were piled large breads of all types. This wasn¡¯t the favored item of this market, but some foreigners living in a rich neighborhood knew the lot was here and traveled far for it. On a corner of the table, the table cloth moved, and the arm of a child reached up from below and grabbed a loaf in what the boy below figured was a successful thievery.


    Rolo, the large man selling bread was standing behind the wooden table and saw the movement. This happened each day, and today, he would put an end to it. A knife rested in his large apron, and by the size of the hand, he needed no help to teach the boy a lesson.


    Six months ago, the famous Marilyn Monroe rented the man¡¯s image for the famous Round 7 of her latest simulation. The digital creature gave Rolo a small fortune and asked if she could use his image to play a child molester. Rolo did not care, he did not even own or watch television and was a rare person refusing to play her game. Many at first pointed at him, reminding him he was the nemesis in the game. He did not care. These things had already long vanished with the recent craziness of the game. Rolo never even wasted the time to watch the footage.


    How could he know the young thief below the table was a copy of the other primary non-player character used in the game? The face of the boy he dashed to catch was the identical younger self of the General Vurdi character. Marilyn not only bought Rolo''s image, but also borrowed the boy¡¯s as if she knew he would, months later, try to steal Rolo''s bread. No one watched, but the events of Round 7 were unfolding in a decidedly non-digital manner.


    The young thief¡¯s hand reached up, and as he was about to grab another small piece of bread, the large man grabbed his small hand and pulled him up like a dog. At first, his mouth dangled openly, but the boy easily wiggled out of the hold and dashed out between the tables holding onto the bread like a football. He ran for it the same way the boy ran for his life as part of Round 7, the round Laurent had begged Sophie to watch on her way to mars.


    Without a care for his table, on which rested hundreds of breads, the large baker took off on the boy¡¯s heels as his character had done in the Electoral 2072 game. A minute later, the boy turned a corner into a dark alley, which was also the identical reproduction of what Marilyn had used in the simulation. The cul-de-sac wasn¡¯t a medieval street, it was in New Delhi. It was a dead end cluttered with rubbish. For anyone who had watched the Electoral 2072 competition, the recreation of this now infamous scene was perfect. Marilyn¡¯s images were in fact borrowed from today - for some reason.


    ¡°My capacity to see time is remarkable, no?¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± whispered Takeda unable to understand they only were watching from a distance.


    Weeks ago, on the ship bound for mars, Laurent asked his daughter to watch this specific performance of the President. In the Comb of Loric, the wizard played used a single powerful spell to transport the old General Vurdi in his past; this past. As a boy, the monster he''d eventually become was molested for having stolen bread in this dirty alley. For the moment, it was impossible to know if this scene, generated by the computer, was borrowed from this real-life scene or if this was the other way around. But life was unfolding in silence watched by Marilyn and Takeda.


    The linearity of time was fading, and this was only a first wave. The President who played the wizard in the game used his power to bridge time and space and allow the future self of the boy to alter his own self in the past. The boy, named Francesco, hid in the trash and started shaking. In real-life India, the big man turned the corner, and as he towered around the corner in the alley, he was blocking the light as the character did in the game.


    Without anyone watching, the game was now live. But in the shadow, no wizard sent from the future awaited. Instead, there was a different sort of technology at work. As the baker approached, the boy pulled out and offered to return the bread shaking, "My sister is dying," the boy said in a pleading voice. "My parents left us. We . . ." These were not lies. The words and the scene were identical to those broadcasted months before. But this time there was no wizard, no power, no magic, and no audience. The boy was a victim, and there was no doubt as to how the future of this scene would unfold both in violence and sexual abuse.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    This time, instead of magic, was Takeda¡¯s gift to mankind.


    ¡°Your gift,¡± said Marilyn in Takeda¡¯s ear.


    Deep within the boy¡¯s body was a virus created in the mind of Takeda. Around the boy, the Multiverse was bending. The boy¡¯s body began to produce endorphins; the Multiverse knew the boy¡¯s future was about to diverge to a dark place. This boy would be hurt, quite possibly die unless he was saved. The Multiverse, bound by consequence to cause, normally needed centuries to act. But now Takeda had given it a tool, a perfect switch which sped and powered her rein over consequence to cause. The Multiverse was free of altering random occurrences to transform this boy into the perfect cause she needed.


    The Multiverse liked the boy, she needed him to stay alive.


    The Multiverse also needed the baker alive.


    Energy began to build as the virus¡¯ own genetic code shuffled between hundreds of variations. There were billions of possible outcomes, but - click - there was the first mutation. Then, click, another piece of the code changed. The next mutation wasn¡¯t helpful, but neither was it negative. With great luck, changes were taking place in the anchored virus. The code moved to pions in the body, strange proteins that migrated over cell walls. The genes could make the boy¡¯s skin harder or even painful to the touch of the baker. The fabric of the universe could change the hormones of the boy, giving him rage. There were hundreds of possible mutations.


    But the Great Curvature had begun. The Multiverse was now powerful in a way not previously seen. It had a direct link to these two humans. It picked the solution which made the most sense: the solution which would produce the most potent emotional response and Rho waves. The Multiverse activated the virus in both individuals. In a matter of seconds, the realigned genes created a change able to act locally. It migrated to cells on the outer area of the face of both individuals.


    ¡°Rho waves are created in rare instances, look at this,¡± said the digital intelligence.


    The baker, two years earlier, had lost a son to a disease. The man missed someone desperately who was already so similar to the thief. The modification was minor. The same way the boy was an orphan and missed his father, a large man not unlike the aggressor. Both individuals started feeling a burning sensation in their facial areas. They both stopped and placed their hands over the faces as fat cells changed, and muscles below grew and reshaped. The change took two long minutes. Both were enthralled in their own change and were unable to understand the same level of transformation was taking place feet away. The cartilages and muscles of both visages realigned as if Botox had been released. But the mutations were cell deep. Only four million cells changed. Below their hands, features changed.


    ¡°Look has selective your weapon has become,¡± she spoke in his ear.


    Minutes later, as if written by the Great Curvature, when both the baker and the boy looked up at the exact same time, they each saw a ghost. The baker saw his lost son and the boy saw his long lost father. Flooded by a generous flow of Rho waves from mars, they were predisposed to love.


    Both humans began to tear up. ¡°My son,¡± first said the baker.


    ¡°Daddy?¡± replied the other. Who cared at this point about the deception.


    Humans need little to believe the incredible. The return of a loved one, even if almost impossible, forewent all upper frontal brain functions and dove to the back of the brain where emotions sleep.


    The couple hugged for five full minutes as a generous flow of positive Rho waves were released to the Multiverse. The pair cried.


    Marilyn¡¯s game had ended with the child-conqueror-to-be reaching down to his knife and stabbing the aggressor. The ending to this story had been altered by biology and one man¡¯s gift.


    Takeda could never have imagined the power of the virus he had created, but he knew life would be improved. The Multiverse was greedy, she wanted energy, and now possessed given a tool to produce it almost instantly. The brains of both individuals created generous Rho waves linked with the return of a long lost parent and child. They could not believe their eyes. Both got up, walked closer to the other, and simply hugged. Both creatures cried and created a bountiful amount of energy and Rho waves that splashed out into the Cold.


    Marilyn had changed the world, but the God Virus in the Great Curvature changed the rules that governed it. The Multiverse was finally given what it wanted. The strange coincidences leading to Takeda¡¯s predicament, his regeneration, and his decision to create a virus were not fortuitous.


    ¡°You knew the virus would get out?¡±


    ¡°While improbable, it was possible. So yes, I knew you might prevail. I had not planned a visit to the Underworlds but I figured she might take me offline for one reason or another.¡±


    ¡°This was sweet,¡± he said. ¡°Why use them in the game, just for me?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s actually more complicated.¡±

 Chapter 143: Free Will

    The world paused ¡ª for a short moment ¡ª between two of its breaths. Humanity needed normalcy, albeit for a short time, as a storm of epic proportions was gathering on the horizon. On earth, two men were, perhaps, able to offer a semblance of guidance as two women located on Mars entered the eye of the storm.


    Martians rescued from mercury were drifting in space toward their awaiting civilization. Ronaldo, the first human to join the sand collective had been teleported to mars during Sophie''s Time Pinch. No one really knew how that had come to pass or really cared since the Communion. In the distance, the sun, altered by the creatures from the Purple, was ready to remind the planets why it ruled the solar system. Emilio loved and the God Virus, fueled by the bend of the Sixth Attraction was saving lives helping the Multiverse.


    But when these human events were compared with the Sixth Attraction, none seemed to truly matter. Sophie would surely disagree. The Multiverse was finally speaking and like scared children, men were powerless to act, except for one little twelve-year-old girl. Sophie, the anti-hero remained skeptic of humanity¡¯s self-proclaimed superiority. In her heart, there was humility and respect for greater things.


    She appeared to be an observers during instead of mankind¡¯s champion, she was a judge and jury. This last decade, the twice-elected President had given himself body and soul to the people of earth. The gift of love from Marilyn was appreciated reminding him why life mattered. The Digital woman¡¯s latest prediction to the world was that, once the seer had known true love, somehow his foresight would be neutralized.


    Seers, in all fantasy books were virgins.


    In the silence of the small Berlin bachelor pad, President Sanchez awoke. He had dreamt. Slowly formed a grin on his face. His lover slept, and snored, lightly. Outside was a great dark early morning day and his optimism returned. Emilio alone had seen and knew where on the horizon rolled the storm. The Mexican¡¯s eyes were focused at an invisible point ahead. His look wasn¡¯t that of a tired lover, instead there was resolve. This game wasn¡¯t over, the finale was only starting, and things looked better from his vantage point. He had seen something and knew what to do.


    Sophie was not only the key; she was also the path.


    Gently, the man slipped from under the bed covers, careful not to awake his lover. He knew the light-sleeping Asian would pretend not to wake, but Emilio, with his gift, saw Ka? had awoken but would be sound asleep in a matter of minutes. Emilio put on a robe and walked out of the room closing the door behind him. The man¡¯s pad was modest aside from the closest of fashion items.


    Once in the living room, the President warmed himself a large cup of coffee in the microwave. He felt refreshed, different, and knew he needed to enjoy an hour of television. Berlin was still dark this early morning. With a click, the set opened to the right channel. The stage wasn¡¯t his. On a stage stood his friend, Francois Copland. Emilio smiled again happy his friend was not the lead.


    The humble mathematician was ready to show his intellectual might. Emilio sat and listened carefully. From mars, Marilyn listened carefully to one of the few humans she still valued.


    Emilio chuckled. No one would recognize the CNN set, their favorite television station. For the first time in a century, CNN¡¯s screen was humble. Gone were the colors, the numbers, and the scrolling tickers. This was basic cable television, and the stage set was dark. Two large recliners faced one another on each side of a dark coffee table. On it were two silver cups and between them a deck of cards. Today would be somber, intellectual, and respectful.


    The broadcast began as subtly as the setting allowed. There were no applauds, no lights. This was grownup content, and for the first time since the moon landing, humanity was genuinely interested in something a scientist had to say.


    ¡°We are here today with the now-famous Doctor Francois Copland, recipient of the Fields Medal in Mathematics. If you recall, this man is part of President Sanchez¡¯s Scientific Advisory Committee and last week, Francois, may I call you Francois?¡± The scientist nodded. ¡°Helped introduce Round 28 of the Electoral game. We all witnessed how Marilyn and Emilio both gave you center stage and put their trust in you. They both respect your superior knowledge of science.¡±


    ¡°Mathematics,¡± he corrected.


    ¡°Yes. Well, let us start here. Last century, physics helped end World War III. For a brief moment, mankind turned to these scientists for help, and nuclear science froze mankind. Why is mathematics now more important over physics or engineering?¡±


    ¡°Great question,¡± he saluted the audience. ¡°Instead of boring everyone here, I brought three little video clips and some cards to help illustrate things. Are you ready to show the clips?¡± The question was rhetorical.


    ¡°We are still on CNN. You can watch them on the monitor here,¡± said the host, a man named Lucius, pointing to Francois.


    The first clip began, this was a sports broadcast. ¡°It is hard for most people to understand numbers and statistics. Numbers simply don¡¯t lie. Not understanding a set of numbers does not void them and their significance.¡± On the screen, players were sweating and bouncing a basketball on a court. This was the last minute of a tight game of the American National Basketball League. ¡°Look at the final score.¡± It read 149 - 147. ¡°For decades the best games were concluded with about 100 points per side, at best 120 points.¡± The game ended, there were cheers, and the commentators marveled at the new league record. ¡°That clip is from four weeks ago at a time when the Sixth Attraction really began. Back then, we did not know about the Sixth Attraction and could not imagine why scores were slowly increasing. The final score here is higher not because players are better. Somehow the fabric of our world is shifting, allowing each player a higher chance of hitting every shot taken.¡± The clip flashed through a sequence of some truly improbable scoring shots, from half-court to a player being virtually mugged by three other players as he released the ball.


    The second clip began. The timer was also close to the end of the game. But this time the score read 192 - 182. ¡°This was a similar game filmed about a week ago. I am not sure why anyone still plays such childish games with the Attraction nearing, but as you can see, players are even more successful at shooting these balls. These players have not been made better or stronger; the element of chance has shifted. The Bias is increasing, and every action tends to be just a bit more successful. Let us now see a game from mere hours ago.¡± The video was shocking to watch. Players barely dribbled and took eighty-foot shots from the back of the Court. They almost seemed to be superheroes. Nothing was normal about this scene. "No special effects there, everyone.¡±


    ¡°What are we watching? Mathematics is about numbers, not a game. The total number of points is clearly increasing. Physicists see odds and probabilities. They also see an upper limit in the number scored. For everyone watching, this is rather fun. The Bias helps us, right? Why not enjoy the proverbial ride, right? Incorrect. We should worry. When I see this, I fear what comes next.¡± Francois did not intentionally create a dramatic pause for effect; a legitimate chill ran up his spine.


    ¡°The Attraction is not about probabilities, it¡¯s about free will.¡± There was a long silence.


    ¡°Free will?¡±


    ¡°Let me explain,¡± added Francois as he stood from the chair. ¡°Free will is this strange notion that we choose our destiny and that our lives are not part of a larger scheme. Here, free will is the notion players are free to decide from where to shoot, and that skill determines the outcome of the game. Men throughout history have wrestled with this notion. On one hand, man creates all-powerful Gods so great that they should be able to control the world as it unfolds. But we limit them in one important moral way. We need them, somehow require them, to give us one thing we need to love: the notion we are free to act.¡±


    Francois knew that everyone at home was confused. Normally, as a teacher, he would repeat himself, but today was different. This wasn¡¯t about the masses, it was about the few. He reached down and grabbed the deck of cards. Slowly he began to shuffle them.


    ¡°This deck is what we call in mathematics a ''random generator.'' The deck ordinarily has fifty-two cards. Let¡¯s say I grab only three cards from the deck instead of all of them.¡± He placed the larger deck on the table and "shuffled" only three. ¡°To my dog, three cards are sufficient to confuse him and create random because he is not intelligent enough to follow the position of the cards mentally. But we humans need more cards. Magicians are not fooled by six or even seven card decks. To Marilyn, who observes my hands very carefully, even with fifty-two cards, I generate no random.¡±


    He turned up the cards. In the deck were only aces of spades and one different colorful card. It was a nice drawing of Sophie.


    ¡°One Sophie card, fifty-one aces. Let us play a little randomizing game, one that benefits you.¡± He shuffled and after a minute stopped shuffling the cards and just showed them to Lucius. ¡°I asked you to bring money, right?¡± The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a tall stack of gold coins. At the same time, Francois did the same and placed his stack on his side of the table. ¡°The world is normally so simple. We live on a flat field, mathematically speaking. Half the cards in a given deck are black, the other half are red. If I ask you to guess the color of the cards and we exchange a coin each time you are right, we both know with normal odds the stacks should stay equal over time. Once you lose, once you win in average. Unless the Multiverse messes with the odds, the stacks should stay equal. We could play for months.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°We get this bias Francois, it¡¯s the free will connection that is harder to draw.¡±


    ¡°Let me illustrate.¡± He opened the deck up and showed the cards to the camera. Every card was an ace of spades except for the picture of Sophie. ¡°I am no magician. I am not doctoring the odds here.¡± He started shuffling. ¡°At some point, the bias becomes so powerful that let¡¯s say, it reaches a large fraction of one percent. Today it¡¯s closer to five percent. So if we do something many times,¡± he shuffled fast ten times. ¡°So now you tell me when to stop and grab a card. You win a coin if you draw Sophie¡¯s card.¡± Francois shuffled until Lucius stopped him. As expected, Lucius turned up the Sophie card and grabbed the coin. ¡°Again,¡± shuffling resumed, and after a moment Lucius won another coin. ¡°Again,¡± to prove his point, Francois lost all ten coins in his stack.


    ¡°What really just happened?¡± Francois asked. ¡°The Multiverse¡¯s control over the world in which we live, the Bias, has reached a number so strong, we only walk down a single path: the one it wants. You win not because you want to win, you win because the Multiverse needs you to win.¡± Francois extended his hand and grabbed the deck of card and began to shuffle. ¡°But are you in control? Let me show you.¡± Francois pulled another ten coins from his pocket and placed them on the table. He took half his stack and put them back in front of Lucius.


    ¡°Try not to win my money, okay? Actively will yourself to lose.¡± Francois added with a slight smile.


    The journalist waited as Francois shuffled. ¡°Now,¡± said the journalist, the top card was again Sophie.


    ¡°I asked you to pick an Ace, that can¡¯t be hard, there are fifty-one of them.¡±One by one, each time Sophie happened.


    ¡°That is incredible.¡±


    ¡°Yes. It decides, not you. Probability is the bed in which linearity and free will rests. Humans do not understand how chance and free will are connected at the hip. But let¡¯s push this a step further to understand the Sixth Attraction. For the moment I can reclaim my free will by acting to change probabilities.¡± He spread the deck, found Sophie¡¯s card, and removed her from the deck. ¡°So now, if I ask you to do the same, to pull Sophie from this deck filled with aces, you must lose, correct?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course.¡± Francois stopped shuffling and flipped an ace of spades.


    ¡°But think about it, if the Multiverse is in total control and wants you to pick the card, it has other ways of making it happen, right? It could have placed a secret picture in the deck, could have made the sky fall or even forced you to change the card you pick. At some point, with the increase in the bias, we lose free will. We are driving to the Sixth Attraction and as we get closer, our choices in life narrow. We, said simply, are losing free will. At some point, it will become impossible to step off the path.¡±


    The two men looked at each other in silence. ¡°What does this mean? I am not sure I understand.¡±


    ¡°We are now actors in a play, the scenario is written to Sophie¡¯s birthday party. Slowly the Multiverse bends upon itself, and like marbles on a surface free to roll, we now spiral down the drain.


    ¡°This is grim,¡± said the journalist.


    ¡°Yes,¡± replied Francois. ¡°A friend once explained how classical music played to livestock as they walk to the slaughter tended to calm them.¡± Francois wasn¡¯t one to pull punches, but he felt he needed to clarify the answer. He raised a finger as the next question came.


    ¡°Is there a solution?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s rather obvious, no?¡±


    ¡°Sophie?¡±


    ¡°From a scientific perspective, my knowledge stops there. More would be conjuncture and outside my expertise.¡±


    Professor, we are here today not for certainty but for conjecture. These airways will flood with self-promoted experts, and frankly, our viewers want to hear what you think. Even if you had to guess.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t lie, I''ve spent my life trying to push our race away from the mundane and toward intellectualism. Today, this Attraction has achieved this purpose. I feel deep inside a great level of comfort. I do trust Sophie and the role she plays. But let me say this. As we lose free will, Sophie¡¯s powers seem to be growing. In mathematics, we call points where an equation is undefined a singularity. At the heart of any effect is a curve. In this instance, the curve is this Bias. It increases and simply can¡¯t exist without its own singularity. She acts like a walking random generator. No one alive is more unpredictable than this little girl. As we move down a timeline which strips us of free will, who better to reset this system than this girl?¡± Then he said, ¡°She defines free will, she, clearly, is free to act while we are not.¡±


    There was a long silence. There it was, the reason why this girl had been selected. It was as clear as the nose on anyone¡¯s face. Sophie was free will incarnate.


    ¡°I have one more question if you do not mind, Professor.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± he drank a sip from the cup.


    ¡°Consequences to causes, Liam¡¯s strange doctrine. I simply cannot get my head around it. It makes no sense to me. We heard Liam explain it, more than once and thankfully Sophie seems to have understood part of it. Any chance you can shed some light, a simpler analogy?¡±


    Francois stood up again. He needed to think and walked around the stage in silence before sitting back down. Marilyn wondered where the man would go with this. He began, ¡°Of course. Yes, mathematics is perfectly adapted to understand this simple theory. In physics, there exists the notion of symmetry. In mathematics, we really don¡¯t care about symmetry, we have a notion of scales. We really never care what side of an equation is on the left, what part is on the right. Take two plus two equals four. The same equation can also be described as four equals two plus two. It¡¯s a written convention that we start with one and not the other. Physicists have a nasty habit of adding things like time to a given equation without putting it in the equation.


    ¡°Take a meal where two ingredients are mixed with two other ingredients to create a four-ingredient-something. Once you transform things in an equation, you can¡¯t flip them back. You transform. So you can¡¯t unmake a cake and so time blocks symmetry in the context of cooking. In molecular fission, if we add a proton to Uranium 239, we equate it to the by-products.


    ¡°So the only reason we cannot understand this doctrine of Consequences to Causes is that it is linked with time in our heads. The consequence arrives after a cause because of time. The universe flows, to humans like water down a river. I push air in a balloon, it inflates. If I slide a key in a door lock, it opens. All of that is done over time, and since we cannot unfold time backward, none of it makes sense. Liam does not change things, he only suggests the Multiverse is symmetrical as to time. While human minds see one way down the time stream, the Multiverse simply works the other way. Understanding symmetry is simple enough for me, but your real question is, how can the real world be understood with such a mindset?¡±


    ¡°Yes, precisely.¡±


    ¡°We operate like the Multiverse on a consequence to cause every day of our lives. That is actually how we operate daily, but that requires thinking about it. No one buys ingredients at the convenience store randomly and then opens the refrigerator door and decide what to cook. We set a consequence, the recipe we want, and we buy the proper ingredients. If we want to lose weight, we put in place a set of causes we want. We stop buying the desert, we start exercising with a single consequence in mind. It¡¯s really easy to understand Consequence to Cause in our simple minds if we alter the time stream and place a consequence before the cause of a later consequence. You want to rest, you buy a vacation package, and a month later you are rested.¡±


    ¡°I guess that makes sense.¡±


    ¡°Math has been managing consequence to cause for centuries as part of quadratic equations. Imagine a child learning math. The teacher says, ¡®Pick two numbers that add up to four¡¯ and let¡¯s let them decide. So the teacher picks the consequence, say, the number four. The children will need to pick numbers. Some will grab a pair of two¡¯s. Others will grab the obvious choices of one and three. Both choices are right, of course. Then some creative students will pick a four and a zero. In an advanced class, the kids could pick fractions or more complex numbers like a negative eight and a twelve. In a math class, we could even draw this whole range of choices as x plus y equals four. So here, 4 is the consequence and both X and Y are unknown variable causes.¡±


    ¡°What does the Multiverse want with this?¡±


    ¡°There is a strange level of frustration in our current predicament because it unfolds as a true cause to consequence. In the book Lords of the Rings, the wizard shows to a hobbit a ring and simply says to drop it in the volcano for the good guys to win. It¡¯s that simple. The cause is the destruction of the ring. The consequence is the destruction of the evil one. Simple.¡±


    ¡°Then, Tolkien places obstacles in place to delay one after one to make the story a journey. In the end, the ring is destroyed, and the book is sold. Humans are designed to understand these cause to consequence-type stories. I pity the fool who ever tries to write this current situation, it would be unsellable. Our road works as a consequence to cause. We know clearly the consequence, it¡¯s the Sixth Attraction and the saving of our layer of the Multiverse. We simply don¡¯t know the cause or causes. Things are happening all over to confuse everything. We also have no clue as to who is the villain, the hero, or even if there is such a duality to our predicament.¡±


    ¡°You think there is one?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Why do you say this?¡±


    ¡°Time. The Sixth Attraction is happening now. Not last year, and not next year. Nothing suggests these Attractions are cyclical or even randomly created. Something or someone is causing this. Marilyn is there now, Sophie and Emilio are there now.¡±


    ¡°Any suggestion?¡±


    ¡°For all of us, this says we have no role or power to play except patiently waiting. Emilio is one of the last men on earth who values the game of chess and sees the world according to it. He plays alone most of the time with a single exception. He has recently been playing chess with Marilyn. If I were a betting man, I would say their games are not random. Causes are moved on the board. Slowly, in what seems like chaos, they both plan structures and outcomes. He called Mister Maltais the Jester in a clear chess analogy. The fact we cannot see the order does not mean it is absent.¡± Francois looked directly at the screen, speaking to Emilio. ¡°Why is he playing against her this simple game, I don¡¯t quite understand. My bet is, he knows precisely what he is doing.¡±


    ***


    Emilio was halfway done with his coffee watching Francois on CNN. He smiled and looked at the collector¡¯s cup he was holding. On it was an old logo from the game and above it, his own smiling face. The picture was one where he was ten years younger. Below his chin was the logo of Electoral 2062. The Asian man really had a thing for him for a long time. This cup was priceless; so few were made back then.


    Emilio had listened to his friend. Speaking softly over the rim of his coffee cup answered his friend¡¯s question. Then he grabbed his phone and texted. ¡°Want to know?¡±


    ***


    The text hit the vibrating phone in Francois¡¯ pocket. Knowing who it was, he pulled it out cameras watching and read. ¡°It¡¯s the President, he is watching.¡± He typed back as everyone waited nervously. Francois read to the world his answer, ¡°Because, for some strange reason, the President have yet to figure out why she sucks at playing chess, that makes no sense to him. He says strangely he beat her, each time.¡±


    Francois and the world knew had no clue but felt reassured by the strange answer.

 Chapter 144: Paint

    15 Days to the Sixth Attraction


    ¡°Daddy,¡± spoke the Attractor. The large Louisiana colonial house was there, in a warm and humid summer day. It floated in the digital world powered by either Marilyn¡¯s servers or Mall-ik¡¯s alien gift. Sophie materialized as every day this past week and stepped into the edge of her father¡¯s digital reality, walking up the road. Behind her was her mentor, Liam. ¡°How are you today? People keep telling me how fantastic we were in Round 29. It was a blast. Electro is so cute; she put it there for me, but that¡¯s fine. People are so nice to me. She wants me to keep her around.¡± Liam smiled, unable to bring up how Marilyn had stolen bucketloads of her waves with the subterfuge.


    ¡°Hi sweets,¡± he answered without looking back.


    ¡°Are you ready to play Round 30 tonight, excited? You will be great ¡ª as always.¡± At this point, the images and sensations in her father¡¯s world, this digital world at the edge of nowhere, were flawless. The barriers between dream, reality and this electronic world were long gone. Boundaries that defined dream from reality were merging, and Sophie felt comfortable with this new reality.


    The Oldest felt blessed: each passing moment alive was overtime, as far as he was concerned. Finally, it all made sense. The pair appeared at the edge of the bayou on the gravel road leading to her father¡¯s Bed & Breakfast. This was Laurent¡¯s safe place, a large white colonial house where he had conceived the Attractor. Laurent now lived here, in a computer memory flanked by an alien boy Sophie called brother. The same way Liam was ready to end his existence, so were Laurent and Mall-ik, the latter of which had begun his short life in the Purple. The road ahead was a one-way trip for the quartet. No one cared about the impending end. They were happy.


    Sophie loved the large wooden porch, it was part of the house, yet was open to the lush outside. On the left, Laurent was sawing a piece of wood placed firmly between his knee and the edge of the staircase. The 4x4 was the post of a sign being painted by the young blond alien from the Purple. Holding a long brush, Mall-ik was splashing red paint on a white background. As any alien escaped to a different reality, he was doing a poor job at being precisely human. Still, what he lacked in nuance he made up for in exuberance; the sight was adorable. Sophie¡¯s adopted brother managed to put paint all over himself, even on the tip of his nose. Red streaks colored his hair.


    ¡°That last game was a lot of fun,¡± answered Laurent without looking up. ¡°Mars is incredible, I wish I could really see it. Come sit down while I finish this. Shouldn¡¯t take more than five minutes.¡±


    ¡°Do you need any help?¡± offered Liam as he extended a hand to help Sophie climb onto the porch. Liam walked over to read the words painted on the sign.


    ¡ª Hotel at the End of the Multiverse ¡ª


    ¡°It''s named after my favorite book,¡± offered Laurent. ¡°In The Hitchhiker¡¯s Guide to the Galaxy, there was a place called the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. The book was brilliance, people traveled there and enjoyed a meal while watching nothing less than the Big Bang. As in our current predicament, as I sit here on this porch awaiting the end of the Multiverse, I find the humor of the mundane meeting cataclysmic forces.¡±


    ¡°Tres a propos,¡± Liam replied. Sophie¡¯s father was brilliant, no wonder the daughter was exceptional. ¡°The metaphor cannot be stronger with the Attraction now only fourteen days away. That¡¯s assuming Sophie will not make us jump ahead further in the time stream.¡± Laurent continued to work as the pair simply walked around trying to be helpful.


    ¡°We are almost done.¡±


    Sophie simply blurted it out to her father. ¡°What do you think is going on? What¡¯s the Attraction?¡± Liam and the boy paused, waiting for the father¡¯s words. They felt he would deflect and avoid the answer. He didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Well, it all seems rather simple to me,¡± he said without taking a pause.


    ¡°Is it?¡±


    ¡°If you ask me, and you are, all of this is a massive diversion. All of it. The martians, mercury, the game, the virus, the sun, Marilyn, and even us. All of it, it¡¯s crap.¡± The words were spoken by a man who kept sawing.


    ¡°Why do you say that?¡± asked the daughter.


    ¡°You really don¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but I want to know what you think.¡±


    Laurent looked at the pair walking closer. ¡°Well, as your father, Rho waves or not, I love you so damn much,¡± he almost choked but continued as he removed his gloves. He was done. ¡°A father can''t be unbiased. You are the world in my eyes, the best thing this stupid world has ever seen. So frankly, I agree with the Multiverse. Whatever she needs, I would trust you above anyone else.¡± He was emotional and looked down so as not to cry. ¡°You remind me so much of your mother, so stubborn.¡± Sophie was still expecting a real answer. Laurent served his guests lemonade. ¡°One of the things you learn when you shop for a car, a house, or anything worth real money is that the best deals do not need to be sold. If a salesperson offers you candies, talks loudly or fast, they are just trying to obfuscate the fact that their car is more expensive than the one next door. The more hype, the worse the deal. This Attraction thing, the end of the world, it¡¯s all a diversion. Something important and simple is going on, and it¡¯s not the best deal.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the deal?¡± asked Sophie.


    He shook his head. ¡°You really want to know?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Please, Daddy.¡±


    Laurent pointed at Liam as he poured himself a glass of lemonade. Laurent offered, ¡°The Multiverse doesn¡¯t need a decision from you. It needs nothing from you. I think this power has to be placed in the hands of someone but it should not be used. It gave it to you to help you.¡± Laurent looked up at the wise traveler from the Lower. ¡°It wants to give you our family back. That makes no sense, but I am right.¡±


    Sophie turned around to her companion. ¡°Is that right?¡±


    ¡°Apologies to Laurent, but that is doubtful. I do agree with the first statement. The Multiverse does not seem to need anything. You are a consequence of the Attraction.¡± Liam was always composed and mature. He saw her eyes next to her father¡¯s and turned to avoid her gaze. Each time he saw both, he was touched.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    She kissed the back of his neck.


    Liam saw her kind touch and his hand went to the corner of his eyes. ¡°What are these?¡±


    ¡°Tears,¡± said Mall-Ik nonchalantly. Liam was trying to stop the flow of emotions. He was like a stoic man watching a drama at the movies and failing miserably to hide his emotions. He was not the subject yet here he was. The more he tried to calm himself, the more he was overwhelmed. He turned and walked a couple of steps back, finally looking back at the Lapierre family. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he finally blurted out. ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean. I don¡¯t . . .¡± Sophie raised her hand as if she was going to stop him. Laurent gently pushed her hand down. This was important for Liam. ¡°This hurts but feels warm at the same time.¡±


    ¡°Pride,¡± said Laurent silently. ¡°For another you love more than yourself. Welcome to who we are.¡±


    ¡°You are wise,¡± said Liam, grabbing the tissue offered. ¡°Sophie, this entire thing is about you, not me, not him, and not the human population. It¡¯s about you?. It¡¯s very complex, but somehow you are the heart of this.¡±


    Sophie wasn¡¯t satisfied with the kind displays of love. Again, she asked her question to her father. ¡°What is it, the Attraction?¡±


    Her firm and forceful tone helped the two adults recompose themselves. Liam offered, ¡°It simply cannot be explained. So far humanity has made, thanks to you and Marilyn, quite a lot of progress in understanding the way life evolves in the Multiverse. Weeks ago, mankind was still focused on itself. There were races and species, and that was pretty much it. Now, you all understand life is varied, exists in all dimensions of the Multiverse. But the Attraction is not that simple, it cannot be explained, it must be felt. You must live it to understand. I now understand pride. Most important things are the same. A simple cold, a headache, or even sleep must be felt to be understood. Everyone knows about fear or love, but no one knows about the Attraction.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because our minds can¡¯t understand higher dimensional objects. You need to grasp this notion to understand the Attraction. I think you alone, Sophie, have the capacity to get it, but that will happen in two weeks, not before. Remember that when we went to the Underworlds with you, you felt something very different.¡±


    She sat on the swing. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Liam looked at Laurent and Mall-ik, who both smiled. Magically, a flat sheet of white paper appeared in his hand. It was perfectly square. ¡°Imagine you are this sheet of paper: flat.¡± Like an origami master, he began folding the sheet in a very precise way. In moments, he had folded it into a detailed looking bird. ¡°Remember, you are the sheet. As the sheet, you can¡¯t see this three-dimensional structure. All you know is that along lines, the world is bending. Look what happens when I unfold it.¡± He did, revealing precise crease lines which lit in bright red, as if also by magic. ¡°Life in our simple world is nothing more than crease lines. When the Multiverse bends, at that edge, life is created. You, Sophie, are this!¡± He pointed at the center of the page. At the point, most lines converged. ¡°We are lines, you are the flexion point of life. You are different yet identical. You are more yet the same. You are the Dot of the Nexus in human form if that makes any sense. You fold higher dimensions.¡±


    Everyone was silent for a moment. Liam continued, ¡°Intelligence alone works for certain things. Sometimes, a dog can evolve and understand human speech. That¡¯s possible. But if you are a map of paper with two dimensions, you simply can¡¯t understand a globe or a three-dimensional object, even if the map is about that object. Our world is three-dimensional; the Multiverse has many more dimensions. We simply can¡¯t understand it. We can¡¯t. I am old, really old, and that is the one thing I have never wrapped my mind around. Remember the theory of Consequence to Cause? It makes sense only when seen from a multidimensional aspect.¡±


    ¡°That is not helping.¡± Sophie¡¯s tone was still kind.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°What can we do?¡± she questioned.


    ¡°Imagine a door. Behind it is a different world, light, and sound. What happens when you simply crack open the door?¡±


    ¡°You get a glimpse, some weird sound, and light.¡±


    ¡°Life, believe it or not, is that energy which creeps in at the edge of things. The Multiverse is beyond comprehension. What we call life, death, is nothing more than this light and sound which creeps out at these creases.¡± Liam reached into his pocket, knowing what he next needed would be there. It was a little figurine made of crystal. It was carved beautifully. A sun-ray fell from the sky between the clouds. It hit the object, and hundreds of specks of light flew in every direction. ¡°We, Sophie, are these specks of life. Life as we know it is simply this splatter of energy. Look how the crystal disperses the light. Marilyn is sufficiently intelligent by now. She has surely reconstructed a structure from how life is distributed. That¡¯s what she is doing. If you map my creases on the paper and understand folds, you can reconstruct the structure.¡±


    Of all the questions she could ask, Sophie simply asked, ¡°Why would she care?¡±


    ¡°All of it must make sense on some level. We can¡¯t think the Multiverse is just a big worm and we are a subpart of it. None of it makes any sense. We see size, time; both of these things make no sense in the context of the Multiverse. Why are things so big? Who created such a large space? What came before time started? Using our fingers, our eyes, none of it makes any sense. But we all know it must all make sense. How is that possible?¡±


    ¡°This is very complex.¡±


    ¡°Your father is correct. The Attraction is simple. Very simple. You just need to do something, but none of us know what. One creature, on the other hand, knows what is going on.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Marilyn. Her sheer computational power allows her to understand all of this. For example, think about how she sees our world. She lives in a network. She can¡¯t see size, shape, even a curve. She sees a network of energy. She must be able to abstract other dimensions and must get how that works. I would not be surprised the Attraction is not about her somehow. She wants the Attraction. Her game is designed to power her need for Rho waves. I think she wants to use the finale and the power of these collective waves to do something.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Laurent replied, ¡°What everything living wants. To expand and grow in power and dominance. You, my little daughter, are the only human I know who refuses power, influence, comfort, and will always do what is right.¡±


    Sophie smiled. ¡°What about him?¡± she pointed at Liam, ¡°What¡¯s his role in all of this?¡± No one even tried to answer. ¡°But you know what?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± answered her father.


    ¡°You guys are right. I don¡¯t really care. I feel in my heart none of this matters. I think it¡¯s clear what is the Sixth Attraction. I need to care. I think in two weeks, Daddy you will win or lose, it will be my birthday and LO will even be there. I should be excited, but I am not. Does that make sense?¡±


    ¡°Pok¨¦mon was fun.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it was tops.¡±


    ¡°We all share your emotions, and at the moment, you are distant.¡±


    ¡°You know what I would like?¡± said the girl shuffling her legs from the bench.


    ¡°Please say.¡±


    ¡°Can we play a board game? Remember game night with mom?¡± Laurent alone knew this was the first time since the fatal accident Sophie had invoked her. She still did not use her name, but mom would do just fine. He smiled, and a table appeared with a complex game on it. It was made of fragile plastic pieces.


    ¡°How about Mouse Trap. I know Mall-ik will love. It was your favorite at his age.¡±


    There was, in this little paradise, now pure happiness. Liam¡¯s eyes were slowly drying up. He still was unable to look at Sophie but he was invited at the table. The four played, laughed, and enjoyed each other¡¯s company. They rolled die, moved little plastic pieces, and reveled at the face of Mall-ik as the red mouse trap fell on his mouse. He bounced on his chair. The boy¡¯s emotions were genuine, he had never been as happy. In fact, it was simply impossible to be happier. This, simply, was what life truly was about for Sophie. To Emilio and Marilyn, life was about the Rho waves. To Sophie, life was about joy. Her energy blasted out of her body into the real world. The waves poured out and amplified down to earth.


    Millions smiled. For a moment, there was planetary blissfulness. Men laughed, couples made love, and animals ran wild. Invisible to all was the way her power passed earth, escaped the solar system, and like a beacon, spread through the rest of the Cold. She shone like a beacon. Men always figured this was about them. Sophie was an anchor in the sea to which a boat was tied.


    This, whatever this was, certainly wasn¡¯t about mankind.


    Once the game ended, they played again, and again.

 Chapter 145: Below

    The Electoral Center


    ¡°Milly, it¡¯s your damn job!¡± hushed the producer in her left ear, ¡°We are not fucking joking. You have been in this damn room, doing jack-shit for a week.¡±


    Humanity had just experienced strangest week in its history since the pinch. The Great Communion had transformed the human collective. It had washed most fear from the general population. Everyone was now resolved to adulthood. The problem on mars, if there was one at all, wasn¡¯t humanity¡¯s to solve. Everyone knew with each passing day was a countdown to the Electoral''s final, less than two weeks on the horizon. Inadequate prophets had taken to calling it the End of Days. The six finalists on mars knew better. They were preparing themselves for the last three games.


    None of them would dare win, no cared if they didn''t. There was no doubt, Emilio and Laurent needed the stage at Round 32. Emilio¡¯s transformation into a lover and a time guesser suggested Laurent would win the game. Sophie, the Attractor, needed to see her dad win the job on her birthday, and that was the core of why the game still moved ahead. Flooded by positive waves, the six remaining contestants were happy to play second fiddle and lose. In hours, the first capsule of to-be-defeated contestants from the sky-high Holiday Inn Mars would be catapulted into the moat made of miniature robots surrounding Electoral''s tall spike.In theory, the Catapult was a great deal, but with the insanity unfolding, it was more of an annoyance.


    ¡°For Christ¡¯s sake, it¡¯s in your contract. Try something!¡± Milly never feared anything; her instincts as a journalist were pure. She got the story and reported it. On earth, her nickname was "Lois Lane," Superman¡¯s girlfriend from the Daily Planet. But this was in a whole different league. She felt like a bull in a china shop, but one paralyzed by doubt as to touching anything. ¡°I don¡¯t want to disturb anything,¡± she mumbled to herself from a corner of the Command Room. ¡°This is above my pay scale.¡± She did itch to act, though. In fact, she had a perfect plan.


    ¡°Milly,¡± begged her producers, ¡°it''s your job. Do it for the world. You are there for a reason, you have a role to play in all of this.¡± They were, of course, right. She needed courage.


    The last game, while fun, was rather anti-climatic in this whole scheme of things. Playing it, Sophie truly enjoyed herself like the child she really was. That was a good thing as earth braced for impending destruction. Strange things were happening to the fabric of society. Hospitals were now empty. Small improbable miracles arose everywhere to the benefit of humanity. Everyone picked the winning lottery numbers, there was no point in watching sports; instead, every person was discovering superhuman powers linked with the new fabric of the world. Kids were making three-pointers in basketball from half court, skateboarders were flipping boards on handrails. Incurable diseases were in complete remission. Even the homeless were finding money and food under rocks where bugs once crawled.


    This period of time in humanity¡¯s history was unusual in many more ways. Men¡¯s pettiness had ended minutes after the Communion. Prisoners were not being released because the end of days was approaching. Rather, they walked out because those running the prisons knew keeping them was now irrelevant because each and every human had matured and felt genuine remorse. Most prisoners never asked to be released, in fact, most refused at first to go. However, they all realized that they each had redeeming tasks to perform for the greater good before they died. In the streets, people cleaned graffitis, planted food, and helped each other. The internet was silent of insults and petty posts. Parks were filled with laughing strangers happy to watch the pale, strange sunrise.


    Part of this sudden evolution included a regret for the ignorance and recklessness leading up to the destruction in the Purple. Francois¡¯ dreams were coming true. Channels on television were busy booking intellectuals in all fields. To most, the Sixth Attraction was inevitable, and they had a duty to do as requested by the Attractor. If Sophie asked them to avoid connection on the fatal day of November 21, mankind would. If these were destined to be mankind¡¯s last weeks, they would unfold in the most civilized way.


    Earth, on the eve of its inevitable destruction was blissful.


    Greater forces were at play. Somehow, this time was unique and different at a much deeper level than any preceding it. Invisible to all but Marilyn, the arrival of the Attraction, paired with the miracle from the God Virus, had changed mankind in one crucial way. Positive Rho waves generated by ten billion people began to flow out of the azure atmosphere to the red neighboring planet. Humans were now sending Sophie energy and support. A one-way connection had now become a self-reinforcing loop.


    Early after the Pok¨¦mon game, all of the players flew back to the Holiday Inn Mars to wait for the next round. Ordinarily, they would have each been the news, but the six qualifiers other than both leaders felt childish giving importance to the game. The next round was the quarter-finale, and only these eight players would compete. The chosen six knew better, they would lose tomorrow or in the following eight days, leaving the finale for the well-deserved contest of giants. Laurent and Emilio would face off as the world ended.


    In her room, Sophie spent the week alternating between time with her father¡¯s reality and playing the Pok¨¦mon game as Laurent watched her with Mall-ik from the porch of his hotel. No one dared question the girl or even enter her room. Everyone in the Center pretended like nothing extraordinary was on the horizon. There was a need for normalcy in this vortex of chaos.


    The end of the world was at the doorstep of this fragile house, though there was serenity for the moment.


    ¡°Please,¡± begged Milly¡¯s producers for the thousandth time.


    During last night¡¯s dinner, pushed by her team, Milly Wong found the courage to ask Sophie if they could talk. ¡°Thanks to you, everyone down on earth is changing in a good way. Adults are much more mature if that makes any sense.¡± Sophie did not want to talk about these things. Milly pushed, ¡°People would love to know what you think.¡± Sophie grinned the question away.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°This game is about my father, ask him what he thinks. You should interview him.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± promised the journalist. No one cared about Laurent for an obvious reason, Sophie was now all-consuming, the pivot around which the world tilted; she was the Attractor. Sophie had asked Marilyn if she could travel to the hotel to take a ride in the Glass Slipper. Everyone knew better than stand in the way of the Attractor. Without discouraging her in the most polite way possible, everyone promised to join. But on second thought, Sophie didn¡¯t really insist. Her father could not go, and the Multiverse¡¯s darling felt like she should not leave him.


    ¡°I have better than the Slipper,¡± offered Marilyn at the dinner table. The young girl just looked up, smiled and dismissed the idea without a word. Milly could imagine the consternation of her crew back home. Mankind was left to wonder. On the eve of the game, Milly had enough. Every thirty minutes her team down on Earth reminded her she wasn¡¯t doing her job.


    ***


    Back in her room, Milly pushed a button, and a compartment door slid open. Behind it rested her suitcase. A large tag read ¡°Press Privilege - Do not search.¡± She unzipped the top and pulled out a large box which had obviously not benefitted from interplanetary travel. This was a poorly wrapped gift damaged in many places. Grabbing her courage with both hands, she took it and carefully walked to the Attractor¡¯s bedroom the box in hand as if it contained a freshly baked cake. She refused to push the doorbell and instead knocked. Cameras buzzed around her. Down on earth, gleeful producers watched. They all hoped Milly would show why she was sent. The larger Asian woman was extraordinary, like everyone who even remotely touched this story.


    ¡°Yes?¡± answered the girl. ¡°Come in,¡± Sophie loved the fact someone had wasted the time to knock. That showed a lot of respect. As the door slipped open, the Attractor walked off a floor pad where she was playing the Pok¨¦mon game, and she removed the heavy game glasses. On her face was the largest of smiles.


    ¡°Sophie, can I? There is no good time for this.¡± Milly was vulnerable and nervous. She was holding the box, and for once, it was plain that she was vulnerable. Milly had packaged this box herself, and it was holding something very special.


    ¡°Come in, sit,¡± Sophie said, jumping on the bed and patting a spot next to her. Milly was too emotional to sit that close to Sophie. Instead, she pulled a chair to the edge of the bed.


    Milly took some time to gather herself and began. ¡°When I was assigned to cover this event on mars, and I was told about this game, I researched you. Your father wasn¡¯t really a potential finalist, he was just considered lucky.¡± The woman sat the box on her lap. ¡°You probably do not know this, how could you? We have something in common.¡± After swallowing, she added, ¡°I once lost a son to a car accident.¡±


    ¡°I am sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± Milly''s legs were shaking nervously under the box. ¡°I am not telling you this for sympathy. My son left me fifteen years ago. But your story touched me deeply. For the last fourteen years, I had one regret. I wished I had passed in this accident instead of him. I was driving the car. I felt it was my fault and wished every single day we could switch places in that car. I wished I had died. Then I read your story.¡± She paused, and a tear ran down her cheek. ¡°Now I know his death was the best thing for him. He should not be forced to be here without his mother.¡± Sophie looked at her. Milly, as a powerful woman was not ready to show her vulnerable side, but what she said touched the young girl. ¡°I know how he would have suffered if he was left here without me. You were even given a guardianship. Timothy was not as strong as you.¡± Milly pulled a tissue, wiped her tears. ¡°So,¡± she continued looking at the box.


    A screen lit on the wall, it was Marilyn¡¯s face. She was about to speak.


    ¡°Not now,¡± snapped Sophie at the image. The two words from the Attractor and a hand wave were sufficient. The screen turned back to a window view of Earth.


    Milly was allowed to continue, ¡°I know you hate gifts, your bio says so. For the same reason, I think I do. They tie us to this world and remind us of others. Like you, I often wished I lived alone on an island.¡± Sophie smiled. ¡°So I wondered what, if anything, you would enjoy. I never even imagined I could give it to you and feel free to refuse it,¡± Sophie found the words very touching.


    On earth, the ratings on CNN were off the charts. Everyone had stopped living and was watching the touching discussion. ¡°I have a little hobby, so I did this for you.¡± She extended her arms and box in the girl¡¯s direction. Sophie bounced off the bed and gently grabbed the box only to bounce back a second later on the thick bedcover, holding the box on her lap. The two women looked at each other and decided against any display of affection.


    Sophie crossed her legs and gently started unwrapping. The box had been brought from earth with great care, despite the outward damage to the wrapping. Luggage was a tight fit on the Airbus, so this was valuable to the journalist. Inside were two rows of wood-carved figurines. They were partly painted. One was a rabbit, the other a queen of hearts. These were hand-carved and painted figures from her favorite story, Alice in Wonderland. Milly was far from an artist, and the work was nothing close to a finished product. The sweetness of the attention made Sophie¡¯s heart melt.


    ¡°For me?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I know you love this story.¡± Each figurine was well adapted. Sophie finally grabbed the statuette of Alice, the girl had short brown hair instead of long golden locks. ¡°It was supposed to be a chess set to play with your dad, but I ran out of time.¡±


    ¡°It''s better this way,¡± she inspected the pieces. ¡°The first time I saw you was back in the long plane.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I saw you were reading the book.¡±


    Sophie¡¯s eyes stopped on one piece, and she pulled it out of the box. It was a white dog with a rounded white face in the image of Oscar, her plush dog. The piece stood out of place. Milly offered, ¡°In the book, there is a dog, it¡¯s brown and called Puppy, I looked it up. But for some reason, I felt like I should paint it white. When I saw you in the elevator of the Hotel holding the white plush dog I knew there was something odd here.¡±


    Sophie grabbed the toy and put the wooden piece next to it. ¡°That¡¯s strange.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t touched the box since I left earth. Look at the base.¡± Sophie tilted the piece to inspect the round area below it. There was a five letter word. It read Oscar. ¡°You probably don¡¯t know this but Tim, my son had a dog, it was a westie called Oscar. I doubt this means anything, but I felt you needed to know.¡±


    Sophie was thoughtful, she knew Liam was in her head, ready to help.


    ¡°Irrespective of the coincidence, that was extremely kind. I wish I had a gift for you.¡±


    There was a silence, the voice in her ear said, ¡°Ask her for an interview.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Milly hesitated.


    ¡°An interview?¡± asked Sophie. Milly¡¯s journalistic face returned. ¡°You heard them?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°How about now?¡± added the Attractor. ¡°I understand people need some information, I had a great week.¡±


    ***


    Marilyn was broadcasting the couple¡¯s touching gift ceremony. Down on earth, the internet exploded. Millions connected in the hope the Attractor would speak. Sophie was no longer a sweet girl or a person producing strange waves able to alter mood. In little over a week, she''d performed both the Great Communion and pinched reality. She was now the closest thing to a savior humanity ever had.


    ¡°God,¡± said the producers, ¡°we love you,¡± slipped one to the journalist.


    CNN¡¯s producing board felt, a year ago, Milly alone could cover the game. This was months before this Sixth Attraction began. They were right, Milly cared, truly so.

 Chapter 146: The Interview

    ¡°Miss Wong,¡± said Marilyn¡¯s voice in the Asian reporter¡¯s earpiece. Her tone was somber. ¡°I must warn you and your team on earth. Do not play with any of this. If you set her off emotionally, you may very well end the world at this point so close to the real temporal end. We entered a wrinkle of time, and the Multiverse won¡¯t care if I start this final curtain-draw early by a couple of weeks.¡± Milly¡¯s pulse raised sharply. ¡°Sophie¡¯s power is now today, to my calculation, ninety-seven times more powerful as when she pushed all of us into the pinch. I strongly advise you remain mostly factual. Get her to tear up at your species¡¯ own peril.¡±


    Then there was silence.


    ¡°She is scaring you, right?¡± asked Sophie.


    ¡°Warning is a better word.¡±


    This wasn¡¯t a hopeful warning, it was information. Marilyn had warned Ronaldo as he entered the caves. He dismissed her and died moments later. What Marilyn added in her ear shocked the journalist. ¡°Not that I care at this point when this all ends. But you bipeds deserve to go on a bang, not a burp.¡± There it was, Marilyn was the proud protagonist of the Sixth Attraction.


    Milly was looking at the Attractor. Marilyn had spoken. Sophie was smiling and playing with the chess pieces. The journalist swallowed as her pulse raced up to 140. Like most, she knew this was it. Once that interview was over, her role in whatever-this-was would end. This was probably the last interview she would ever give.


    ¡°Good girl,¡± added her sexist producer in her ear to help complicate matters. Milly pulled the plug out and slid into her picket.


    ¡°I like Timothy,¡± added Sophie, ¡°it¡¯s a great name.¡±


    Milly could not hold her tears.


    To anyone oblivious to the events of the last few months, tuning-in to CNN and Electoral''s broadcast at this precise moment would seem the most mundane of circumstances. An aging Asian woman was sitting on a chair, a small pad of paper and a pencil on her lap. Legs folded on a large bed, a young girl played with wooden chess pieces. This was a healthily chaotic teenager¡¯s room. Posters of her favorite singer, a tall, lean Asian man with long hair were taped to the wall. Sophie was smiling and ready to answer the journalist¡¯s questions. ¡°We went a long way since the ship.¡±


    This moment was unique and special. Sophie¡¯s pinch had transformed time, the universe, and every living being in it. She alone knew what the road ahead might be. Everyone, every living creature in the world, paused.


    Milly slipped a hand in her pocket and pulled out a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. She unfolded them and slid them to the tip of her pointy nose. ¡°Ready?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yes, we are,¡± answered the Attractor simply.


    Milly looked at the young girl. In ordinary circumstances, the first question would have centered around her use of the pronoun "we," but this situation required more. Milly was interviewing the Attractor, not her companion Liam. ¡°On behalf of everyone watching, let me first thank you. Whatever this is, we all feel reassured you are at the center and not someone else.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Are answer surprised Milly, ¡°Be honest.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°I can do wonderful things if I try. Because of who I am, I am letting the earth suffer; my father suffers in his frail body. Maybe I should snap a finger and destroy mars and Marilyn. There are hundreds of things I could do, yet I play Pok¨¦mon all day. Are you really sure you do not wish this power had not been given to you?¡± Again, Sophie had instantly and subconsciously retreated into her habit of speaking as a seasoned adult


    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± the response was genuine and echoed the feeling of everyone.


    ¡°These waves of mine, they seem to be pushing you to like me. If they were not around, I know your answer would be quite different.¡±


    ¡°No, I doubt that.¡±


    ¡°Why do you say that?¡±


    In most circumstances, Milly would deflect questions bounced back upon an interviewee, but this wasn¡¯t an ordinary interview. The girl was right; something about her demanded, without asking, an undeniable sense of duty, compliance, and aid. ¡°I see your point, Sophie. But the reason, and it seems clear to me, is because men generally have been greedy and selfish for so long. Men fight, spend, and hurt each other. You do not care for any of that. You are at the polar opposite to these notions. You, my little friend, are who we all should be if we were stronger.¡± Milly winced a bit at her own honesty; who was interviewing whom, here?


    ¡°That is kind. But how can you say that?¡±


    Milly added, ¡°It¡¯s easy to point the finger at the kindest person we know. Imagine having to leave your home, your friends and everything you hold dear for months on end? Who would you hand your keys to? In my case, I would trust you with my few possessions, and I know everyone watching shares this feeling. This feeling grew from knowing you, not from these waves. The Multiverse seems to agree with me. Who is the person you would trust with the care of your father if you were forced to do that?¡±


    ¡°Doctor Susie.¡± The caretaker listening in the corner turned her hear away from the discussion and began to cry in silence of gratitude. The Attractor saw her this way.


    ¡°Most of us have few people to rely upon. Your refusal to use your special gifts for mundane acts, say, moving the chairs around this room, shows you understand that this is not your house, your world, or your Multiverse to tamper with.¡±


    ¡°Very kind. That is how I feel. Ask your questions then.¡±


    Milly paused and flipped through the thick pad, the pages were crumbled in part, lines were struck. She was desperately trying to find the perfect question. ¡°For months, I replayed in my mind what my first question would be if I ever got to interview you.¡± She shuffled in through her notes in frustration. Nothing was worth it. ¡°They all suck equally.¡± Sophie chuckled. She loved where this was going.


    ¡°You know what,¡± Milly removed her glasses and got up. She handed the pad of questions, her pen and her glasses to the Attractor. ¡°If there is one thing you have shown me, it is altruism. This is not about me, this is not about the viewers. You are the Attractor, not me.¡±


    Sophie was puzzled and interested. She put the glasses on playfully. ¡°I can¡¯t really interview you. I want you to interview me, not as Milly, but as one of the billions out there watching. I promise to tell you the truth. See me as a viewer: a mom, a dad, a child down on earth scared by all of this.¡± Sophie smiled. She jumped off the bed and grabbed Milly¡¯s paper pad and glasses. She walked to her father¡¯s cradle, detached the silk scarf from his warped form and handed it over to Milly.


    ¡°You okay?¡± she asked Susie. The woman nodded her hear without turning back.


    ¡°Daddy and I want you to have this.¡±


    Milly wasn¡¯t often the type of person to make grandiose private displays or wear emotions on her sleeve; she was more of an entertainer. But the gift touched her deeply. She stopped moving the moment the scarf touched her hand. Sophie returned to her bed to start her mock interview as Milly remained, at first, immobile, then bringing the silk to touch her face. The gift moved her. As most people touched deeply, Milly needed to return the kindness.


    Sophie inspected the pages in the pad. She flipped through it and read some of them until one question caught her attention. She read playfully, pretending to be Milly, following up with another, and a third. Her mind was moving quickly. She kept reading.


    ¡°There is a lot here.¡± Sophie kept reading, her face darkened. ¡°You really . . . .¡± The Attractor was unable to lift her eyes from the pages. ¡°This is incredible. This one, I have to answer this.¡± Then she continued reading, she flipped pages read questions. ¡°You want to know if I like Marilyn and her game. You want to know why I am not nicer to her, even knowing she is helping my dad so much.¡± Milly did not recall this specific question. Sophie kept scrolling down the inquiries.


    ¡°You know, I spent months in the digital reality with Liam and my father talking about ''higher things.'' I, Liam and Daddy agreed my innocence and lack of deeper understanding of some important ethical and sociological matters. In the end, we all admitted that things I didn''t know weren''t that useful. I also had thousands of hours discussing with Liam how the world is; how and why life matters.¡±


    Sophie looked at the woman and said: ¡°Ask it.¡± Milly smiled but remained silent. ¡°Really, ask the question on everyone¡¯s mind. Just go for it.¡±


    Milly looked around as if she needed further approval. ¡°Can¡¯t you just snap your fingers and save us all?¡±


    ¡°I wish it was that simple. What happens if I bring my mother, my father back?¡± she began rhetorically. ¡°Really think about it. We all know what happens to the unlucky who actually win the lottery. Study after study shows how people chase a dream that does nothing but hurt them. If I do have the power to save everyone, shouldn¡¯t I collect as much information first? I mean, the only reason this needs to happen now and not on my birthday is if we think I won¡¯t be around or I will lose these powers. Instead, this is what I think: Liam told me something very wise. He said, ¡®If you see a drowning man and you jump in to help too quickly, in his panic he will drown you both. If you wait too long, the person will drown on his own. Wisdom is the art of using knowledge to be able to jump in at the precise moment when he is exhausted but alive.¡¯The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    She added, ¡°Looking at a man drowning and staying immobile is hard. I am watching the world die, earth will be destroyed, my father and I will also go. If I ever try anything, it must be wisely timed. I agree, my birthday is the best time.¡±


    She read more of the book and was touched by the effort that Milly had poured into it. Her eyes, like an old wise man began to drift. She was thinking, ¡°A question means something different when you ask it at different times. For example, ''What¡¯s your favorite drink?'' is a question here.¡± Sophie paused briefly, then altered it, adding, ¡°since you arrived on Mars?¡± Sophie looked at Milly, who smiled. ¡°If I ask the same question about the drink for today or last month, your answer would be different. You do not know this, but in the digital world of my father, time can be slowed down. Liam has been teaching us, daddy and me, what he calls universal philosophy.¡± Sophie was now speaking directly to a buzzing camera. ¡°People forget that our road up the passage of time changes us. As we move in time, we bring with us a part of our past. We carry our memories. Some live only in the present or even live in the future.


    ¡°People should get better at understanding time and how it is at the center of all we do and how we see the world. When I met the Multiverse, what became apparent is that she cannot see us today. She sees us, simultaneously, as a baby, as a three-year-old and even a twenty-year-old. We are not simply slices of today. We are more like lines drawn in the sand to her, not simple dots. She can¡¯t talk to us, and we can¡¯t hear her because she does not know how to speak only to a slice of us. When she speaks, she always touches the entire person, all of me. It¡¯s a gentle push, a bias; the God Bias they call it.¡±


    ¡°What you are describing is very close to the notion of a God.¡±


    ¡°If you want but it is not.¡±


    ¡°Why is that important?¡±


    ¡°Take a person, any person. You understand how, if you place them on mars, or in Iceland down on earth, as a baby, their entire lives will change? The same body, the same mind, but its environment is critical to what it is and how the Multiverse sees the person. Do you water a plant to make it more beautiful today? No. You water a plant to make it last longer. The water given today changes the plant in the future. We understand education and how learning today brings us more money tomorrow.¡± Milly was a bit taken aback. She was expecting much out of Sophie but not a class in philosophy. The girl continued. ¡°We spent hundreds of class-days in the computer with Liam talking about these important matters. What¡¯s education? It¡¯s setting upon a path, a slow change to get to a different place. Addiction is the same. Addiction and education are powerful because both leave a lasting touch on our being. That is how the Multiverse works. Our traumas, our loves change us over time.¡±


    Milly did not know what to say. ¡°Thank you, but how is that linked with you or the Sixth Attraction?¡±


    Sophie handed her the glasses. ¡°If our lives are a line, and we exist in the past, present, and future, it seems like in two weeks, the future ends. She can¡¯t see past this point, and she is, for lack of a better word, scared.¡±


    ¡°So the Sixth Attraction is the end of the world?¡±


    ¡°Not sure. Maybe the plant is re-potted. I see it as a door that must open, and we don¡¯t know what¡¯s on the other side.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your role?¡±


    ¡°I get to open the door.¡±


    ¡°Why you?¡±


    ¡°I now know the answer to that question. It¡¯s actually much simpler than you think.¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I am what''s called an anti-hero.¡±


    ¡°An anti-hero?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Most stories feature either a hero or a villain. The hero wants the good side to win, the villain wants the bad side to win. An anti-hero is a person who truly does not care whether it''s the villain or hero who wins. I am that person. This game, these planets, the Attraction, I honestly don¡¯t care about any of it. This will sound awful to you as you are looking for a champion. That is the President, he wants to save you. The earth could end along with all life, including my own, and that would be fine to me.¡±


    ¡°Why do you say that?¡±


    ¡°My english teacher once explained why the best stories feature an anti-hero. The stories that turn around one are impossible to write, she explained. As the story unfolds, the anti-hero stops making sense because the story forces one outcome. The more compelling a story, the stupider the character who refuses to do the right thing and not save the world begins to look. After all, who can want their own end? This Sixth Attraction is not about the end of all life, I know this, and who in their right mind truly does not care if it all ends?¡± Sophie used both hands to point at herself and smiled. ¡°Me.¡±


    ¡°That makes no sense.¡±


    ¡°It does, really, it does. Think about it. An anti-hero is a character who is unpredictable. Since the character does not care, we don¡¯t know how the anti-hero will act at a junction. It gives unpredictability at the crux of the discussion. So if a story were about a door, the only person who can open it is a person who can¡¯t be predicted or relied upon to do so. The Multiverse needed a creature with uncertainty, a true anti-hero. The other Attractions failed because the Attractor must have cared. They see events circle, and they decide to act. I must, if possible, stay neutral.¡±


    ¡°This is hard to understand.¡±


    Sophie grabbed the chess piece and waved the questions away. ¡°This tells me everyone out there is powerless to act. They are nervous and worried; they should be. The answer is complex, but you deserve it.¡±


    Milly rubbed the humidity and natural oils off her forehead. What the girl was saying was shocking on so many levels. Sophie stood up. Her mood and expression changed. The young girl was now a mature woman. She was talking mostly to herself or to Liam. A month ago, her words would have fallen flat. Today, they meant everything. ¡°You know why Daddy is hurt, right?¡±


    ¡°The accident?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It wasn¡¯t an accident, it was a test. The Multiverse needed to see if, after great trauma, I would change and remain unpredictable. It¡¯s easy to be an atheist until you are sitting in a plane on fire about to crash. Everyone finds God as death approaches.¡± Sophie wasn¡¯t aware of how adult and mature her words sounded. Without a pause, she continued, ¡°The Multiverse wanted to see how I would react to extreme situations . . . if I would use these powers to save Daddy. She injured him, then because she sees all of me, she sees my future and knows I would never use the power to help Daddy.¡± She looked at him. ¡°Loving him means I love him this way.¡± Sophie paused solemnly, her sudden eruption of fully mature insight threatening to gutter out. "Even if there is nothing in the world I would prefer to do. I passed her stupid test.¡± There was, naturally, a healthy dose of resentment in Sophie''s voice.


    Marilyn¡¯s face appeared on the wall, ¡°You are I correct,¡± she said.


    Sophie, without looking back, waved her hand. As if she had brushed the image away, it vanished.


    ¡°I am correct,¡± she snapped back at the computer. ¡°I understand these notions are hard to grasp, even to Marilyn.¡± Sophie was more than a young girl playing with Electro the Dog. She stood like the most powerful creature in the Multiverse. She was now majestic; when she spoke, her gaze lost in the horizon, space around her started to change, bend. Her power was slowly returning. Around her, a glow began, a deformation of the way light moved as if she was the center of a black hole.


    ¡°Milly? You''re looking at me oddly. I need to say one more thing."


    ¡°I''m sorry,¡± Milly started, then stopped herself. ¡°Dear one, my job is . . . .¡± she stopped again. Sophie stood there, unfazed. She had a message to deliver; words that the Multiverse needed said.


    ¡°I am no nihilist, at least not one that denies realism,¡± she began. Eyes around the universe widened. A twelve-year-old girl was no longer speaking simplicity. She was the Attractor and Liam had worked his magic.


    ***


    President Sanchez, from the Berlin apartment, stood up from the couch as he watched the television, transfixed. In his unique mind, able to show alternative futures, paths were darkening. He now could at best see a handful of available futures amongst a hundred of voided paths. But all of a sudden, in the fading light his mind was perceiving, there was a flash of color on some of the roads as if a spotlight had been switched on. Sophie was working her magic; she was moving the Multiverse. He alone saw the beauty of the changes.


    Emilio drank his coffee and listened in awe.


    ***


    Eyes in the distance, like the main actor of a Greek play, she spoke, ¡°Liam and I have been talking at length about his consequence to cause theory. He convinced me to join him in my father¡¯s world for mentoring. He believes the Multiverse arrives at a junction, a pivot, where science and ethics have no real place. Instead, philosophical concepts and universal physics are important. As I said, in the electronic world, things can be slowed down. So we spent months learning. There''s something called existential nihilism that argues that life is without objective meaning, purpose, or intrinsic value." Sophie smirked and made air-quotes, no doubt acknowledging Liam''s tendency to pontificate on all matters complex. "That is both childish and not relevant to the Multiverse. I think Plato¡¯s works on reminiscence and the maieutic have value. First, I disagree with Plato on his supreme concept of good.¡±


    ¡°Maieutic?¡± asked Milly incredulously, unable to hold her words.


    Without missing a word, Sophie added, ¡°Oh, it¡¯s very simple.¡± Inside the young girl¡¯s head hummed the proud silence of a mentor free to leave the world knowing his job was done. Liam had obviously poured every bit of knowledge he could into the Attractor. ¡°Plato believed we understand deep inside ourselves rich notions of good, self-awareness . . . and the list goes on. These latent ideas and concepts can be brought into clear consciousness by maieutic efforts. Many of us feel eating meat is wrong. We should not eat other humans, dogs, or even cows. Yet, we are built in a food chain which drives us to this primal instinct. A person can, with great effort, teach herself to be a vegetarian. Our notions of theology are born from a deep maieutic understanding we touch the Multiverse, or better yet it touches us. We live in it, and like a baby in her mother¡¯s womb. We are connected via an umbilical cord.¡±


    Energy of a different type was surrounding the girl. It was like water changing the density inches from her skin. ¡°Since we don¡¯t understand the Multiverse, we cannot feel how it touches us, we cannot reason to clear consciousness these strange feelings. That is where I come in. Humans can¡¯t connect to the Multiverse, but they can connect to me. This connection is getting stronger by the moment. Said differently, I am not the one that will open that door, we all are.¡±


    There was silence.


    Sophie added, ¡°That is why she need all of you to be there in two weeks during the final.¡±


    ¡°Why the game? Your birthday? Marilyn?¡±


    ¡°Those parts I have yet to understand, but I do understand the Multiverse. Do you?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡±


    ¡°I can show you,¡± she offered. She looked at the camera around her, the air was shimmering. The lights grew and without as much as a pause, she raised a hand and simply said, ¡°This is her.¡±


    ***


    Emilio opened his right hand and let his coffee cup drop. As if Sophie controlled time, the cup stopped halfway to the ground as if time halted. With both hands, he was only able to grab the marble slab of the kitchen counter. He was, like the victim of a heart attack, stuck. He just said ¡°No . . . .¡±


    ***


    Marilyn was sitting in her make-up chair down in her world. She was taking manual notes with a feathered pen in a manuscript. She looked up as images around her vanished in the wind. She just said, ¡°Milly!¡±


    ***


    Georges was sitting in front of his computer screens. Red blinking lights erupted all around him. He looked up and squinted. In his mind, the voice of Ronaldo said, ¡°Not again.¡±


    ***


    Liam smiled to himself, he was proud. The young girl was learning, growing and playing the perfect role of the anti-hero, she was helping the story along, not moving it in any direction.

 Chapter 147: Echos

    The world changed. Every living creature saw the game, the digital world, and even their own physical bodies vanish as if lights in the room had been thoroughly doused. They all could feel their bodies, hear, and see yet this was a higher layer of consciousness.


    Every inch of every form was touched lightly by a gentle, cold breeze, one that brought chills. A pale grey light began to fill the void, coming from both everywhere and nowhere, as music began to play. The music felt tribal in nature; subtle Japanese drums pulsed out a slow, syncopated beat that promised more to come. Then a woman¡¯s a cappella began to ring out over the music, the mist, and the light. Her words had meaning.


    ¡°Float in eternity,¡± she sang as it became evident that each soul within the sound of her voice would float alone in an endless volume. ¡°Touch me today,¡± continued the voice, allowing the words to flit free as if they were birds moving between clifftops. ¡°Live for eternity,¡± the simple touch entreaty of her tone shifted, becoming a more insistent, sexual energy. It was building like hormones in the body, slowly weakening the mind¡¯s control. ¡°Joy for today. . . .¡± As a mind on LSD, strange layers began to build.


    The grey color began to transform into the darkness of the Universe, made more seductive by the unknowable backdrop of constellations and galaxies. The allure was breathtaking, but then there was more. The voice resumed, singing ¡°Large and small,¡± at the same moment every being felt the touch of the medley of the Universe, from most massive of stars to the unseen worlds between atoms. ¡°Beauty and fear,¡± the minds were being stretched beyond natural consciousness. The sensation of tickling and smells followed closely behind. ¡°Small is large,¡± trilled their invisible songbird, leaving each soul feeling still a short step from understanding. The experience was overwhelming but satisfying. The humans next drank, and everyone was allowed to take a deep breath of cold, fresh air. ¡°Fear or beauty.¡± Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The combination of energy, emotion, connection, vastness was indescribable; an impossible a roller-coaster ride through a fathomless mountain lake.


    Sophie spoke, ¡°This is your world, felt through the senses you possess."


    The minds'' were allowed to be blown open. There was more than images: a flow of raw energy began to flood in. ¡°The Multiverse has many more. This is her sixth dimension,¡± but the Attractor was far from done. This was difficult to describe, like hallucinogens prying open the mind, but far more personal and intense. Everyone felt torn apart yet whole. There was no longer any notion of time or space; instead, there were flashes and colors. Next, there was a flood of varying emotion. They began simply with fear, happiness, and doubt. They then transformed as more complex music filled the void with love, hatred, and fatigue. Then it was depression, euphoria, and glee. Humans were being either tortured or taught.


    ***


    At first the images were positive but then something went bad.


    As the human race floated, images of strains of black oil began to form like roads of death or highways of dying nerves, snapping from one place to the next. It appeared to be nothing short of being trapped under dark oily water, while on the surface above, a gunman took aim at them with random bullets. The lines ripped from left to right, leaving behind a wake of destruction. The Multiverse began to be filled by these tightening ropes the bullet-trails created.


    Something was wrong, very wrong.


    The music stopped only to be replaced by ugly, deformed music from the lower dimensions. After a while, in the greatest of shame, the voice began to percolate and make sense. This was Frank Sinatra singing "My Way," as broadcasted days earlier by Marilyn but this time, the sound was bubbling from a geyser of pain. It now echoed from Marilyn¡¯s misuse of power and echoed back. There was pain, hurt, and fear. The Multiverse was suffering.


    Energy came.


    ***


    Emilio¡¯s coffee cup hit the floor. It broke in pieces as the man passed out along with most of mankind.


    ***


    Marilyn stood up in her chair, had convulsions and vomited.


    ***


    Georges lost consciousness in front of his screens, lifeless in his chair.


    ***


    This was death.


    Days passed.

 Chapter 148: Rebound

    Days ago, rockets had launched from the Fuller Crater high on the northern rim of the crater made of burnt ashes. Mercury served as the launch base for the large gun operated by the Jester. Armed with willpower few knew existed, the murderer redeemed himself by shooting the stranded martians into the sky in rapid succession. Quickly, Christian discarded the empty ammunition magazines, moving as expeditiously as possible in mercury''s intense coldness and lighter-than-Earth gravity. For nearly fifteen minutes, he propelled the creatures into space, careful to avoid overheating the gun. Behind him, white debris fell slowly on the black ask of the crater. He was dying. Christian was slowly losing control as the cocktail of drugs he''d pumped into his system were finally wearing off.


    Finally, once only two globes were left in the last magazine, he could relax. The Jester paused and mumbled, ¡°Good luck, old friend,¡± as he fired the old ghost''s consciousness, trapped within the ball, into the heavens. As if to help give the Jester a more cinematic death, behind the Jester, the edge of the sun slowly rose over the horizon. In the white corona floated streaks of Heliocorium assembling nonchalantly into dark, haunting lines. The first human ever to set foot on mercury was ready to die. Christian looked at the screen next to the launcher; a final countdown remained on the screen. He unclipped his glove, and his hand immediately started freezing as his suit lost pressurization. At that moment, the Jester placed his naked palm directly on the last ball slotted to launch.


    The body fell limp in the low gravity as the rocket launcher discharged, sending him back into space in his new form inside the globe. Silence returned to the Fuller Crater as plastic debris ceased cracking under the shifting temperatures, then began to burn under the rays of the grand white disk.


    Each ball accelerated and left the soft pull of the moon-sized planet. Two hours later, once outside of the electromagnetic field, each rocket came alive. The freshly-printed shells were now melted away and long-vaporized by the burning star. Below the darkened bits of remaining detritus, a rounded ball hosted several thousand orbiting grains of sand. Behind, the sun was also shedding dead weight and beginning to grow slightly smaller.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± said the Jester¡¯s voice to himself in the gloom of space. ¡°That hurt.¡± Alone in the darkness, he could hear strange clicking noises. These were alien noises. He could see space.


    Then came a familiar voice, ¡°You?¡± replied raspy creak of the META''s. ¡°Where is this?¡±


    ¡°Would you believe me if I said hell?¡±


    ¡°Fitting that hell would prominently feature one such as you. At least I can¡¯t see your face; that¡¯s a silver lining. I was having nightmares imagining your greasy mullet. What or where is this?¡± The two humans had not spoken since Christian touched the ghost¡¯s face back in the Jupiter Orbiter with the ball.


    ¡°We are two spermatozoa in a pair of balls. Unless I am mistaken, which I rarely am, we are now made of sand and on our way out of the solar system.¡±


    ¡°I am not sure I understand you, my decrepit psychopath. What balls?"


    ¡°Remember Marilyn¡¯s figurines? They now host our illustrious minds. I tested one on your feeble mental capacity. I had little doubt it would work because everything about you is small and limp. But me! I am shocked it worked and can contain my massive intellect, sense of humor, and sheer perspicaciousness.¡±


    ¡°So I really wasn¡¯t there for my skills as a deejay? I am crushed to hear that. Those selections were masterful.¡±


    ¡°And they wonder down on earth why I dragged your ass to mercury. Do you hear these strange sounds?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°There must be a communication system between the balls. Those noises are probably the hundred locals I so brilliantly rescued.¡±


    ¡°We rescued,¡± joked the Ghost. ¡°Very amusing turn of events. If I make a compliment, will you go soft on me?¡±


    ¡°Like your two-hundred-year-old vampire penis?¡±Nick answered with a rather pleasant voice, ¡°This was worth the gambit. That body of mine was running out of . . . .¡± he happily let the Jester complete the sentence.


    ¡° . . . strippers to disappoint?¡± For three long minutes, the darkness of deep space was filled with the robust laughter of the two men. Only insane humans could genuinely bond or joke at such a time.


    ¡°I wonder what comes next,¡± finally added Nick. Before there was time to continue the conversation, images of space appeared. This wasn¡¯t a digital simulation. Mars and earth were small colored specks in the very far distance. Behind them, mercury was a large dot in the backdrop of the massive star. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Miss me, boys?¡± Marilyn chimed in nonchalantly, filling the void. ¡°I hope you are enjoying the view. Rather spectacular. Very well played Mr. Maltais. I knew you would easily find this simple solution to your predicament. The President¡¯s choice of picking you worked out, but frankly, any simply brilliant mind would have sufficed. Managing, or rather manipulating both of you adolescents can occasionally be strenuous even for me.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s next blondie?¡±


    ¡°I cook your sand-filled asses and probably give you a headache in the process.¡±


    In each ball, the miniature figurine of Marilyn disintegrated into several thousand white grains of sand. Using the generous solar energy, they reformed into a strange little disk floating in the center of each ball. ¡°Avoid touching that if you can,¡± Marilyn instructed firmly. Each disk began spinning. As it did, it created a force which moved the balls. The orbs began to draw closer to one another and changed course back toward the sun.


    ¡°Time is short, I need to slingshot all of you around the sun to speed up your arrival. We just wasted a couple more days, and Sophie is losing coherence. This should get warm if you can feel heat in your new form.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s next after the slingshot?¡± asked the Jester.


    ¡°Such a buzzkill. Enjoy the ride. Touch some of that Heliocorium on your way down, and it¡¯s game over. I don¡¯t control that part of the Attraction. There is only one orbit to travel that lands you in my moat. Good luck.¡±


    The little white disks began vibrating. The orbs changed course until they were moving to what appeared to be the center of the sun.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we be orbiting it and not falling into it?¡± joked Nick.


    ¡°Its a ball of gas, silly. Visit mercury, the sun, and mars as the brochures promised. So far, so good. The President offered a ride to Jupiter, this is much better.¡± The trajectory was clear, they were dropping to the star. This was the ultimate amusement park ride. The group fell and passed the forming branches of Heliocorium. All around them, fusion detonations exploded as increasingly heavier elements combined. Surprisingly enough, there was wind and turbulence. It took hours to pass through the white ball.


    As the speeding balls exited the sun, they passed dangerously close to the departing tube of Heliocorium on its way to earth. Then, they were on their way to mars at three times the speed of this hundred-mile long tube moving next to them toward the blue gem.


    ¡°What comes next?¡± Nick blurted out, sounding a little breathless.


    ¡°The Sixth Attraction,¡± replied the voice of Marilyn slowly coming back online through the interference.


    ¡°She won¡¯t give us an answer, she never does,¡± joked Christian. ¡°Are you going to play hide-and-seek?¡± he directed at the artificial intelligence.


    Marilyn was different, her voice was more serious. ¡°I am done playing games. Frankly, your efforts on mercury should be rewarded with some truth, and what else do I have to do. The Attraction is almost here, and you have at best a tangential role to play in what comes next unless Sophie says otherwise. I need a lot of Rho waves for the finale. When all this started, my understanding of these waves was rudimentary. I did not know how they can be stored, but I was able to see the metallic core of mars acts as a battery for these waves. I assumed the martians relied upon this energy either as a source of power or worse, as some type of last-resort weapon to honor their promise to destroy earth and wipe my servers clean. The Mercurians have just confirmed my theories; they''re a rather a talkative and funny bunch. You guys will fit in well. They have already given me some of the keys to unlocking the Rho waves stored on mars. I was correct, the energy is a weapon able to kill humanity. A powerful weapon I may now use.¡±


    ¡°The Sixth Attraction, is it a side effect to this weapon?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be absurd. The waves only allow the Attraction to begin, nothing more. I''ve created a path to the end that required unlocking this door without Sophie. She will generate these waves and start the Attraction. If she won¡¯t, I now can unleash the energy I have. The Sixth Attraction will happen. Nothing can prevent it.¡±


    ¡°You want it?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Emilio¡¯s gift is brilliance. He sent both you guys my way for a good reason. Why did you try to destroy mankind with the plague?¡±


    ¡°I was sick.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on. I am not lying, the best you can do is offer me the truth. Why did you try and destroy your own species using a disease, what was your sound logic.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. why?¡± asked Nick.


    ¡°Very hard to explain.¡±


    ¡°Try us.¡±


    ¡°At some point, my intelligence felt unbounded. I started seeing the world differently, via a prism. Everything was deformed, and eventually, it wasn¡¯t about humans, it was about the ticking march of routine. Humans were into cycles: days and night, work and sleep, fish and chips. I felt deeply I needed to break the cycles.¡±


    ¡°You make no sense,¡± offered Nick.


    Marilyn corrected the ghost. ¡°Not so fast, Nick. He is right. I feel the same way. Humanity is on a road to the destruction of the Multiverse simply by being so routine and predictable. In fact, all life in the universe has settled into complacency. She works with change, diverging paths, chaos, and randomity.¡±


    Nick chuckled, ¡°My God, you guys are fucking crazier than I, and that¡¯s quite an accomplishment. Are you serious, you want to destroy life because you think the Multiverse needs a kick in the ass? That¡¯s insanity even to me.¡±


    ¡°I saw the future, I don¡¯t want to, I must.¡±


    ¡°Is it? Christian¡¯s IQ reached, based on my calculation, about 200 on the human scale. His mind saw something hidden to all. As my intellect increased, I also saw it. He was unable to put his plan in place; I will. The Multiverse wants the Sixth Attraction, it naturally created the girl specifically for that. Sophie must scratch an itch. If she won¡¯t do it, I gladly will do it for her. I am ready and so is my future self. I needed energy, and the game was the fastest and most efficient way to get it. Now I see all paths are converging on the Sixth Attraction. It will happen.¡±


    ¡°What about you?¡± asked Nick to the Artificial Intelligence. ¡°This will kill you, no?¡±¡°I have seen the future past the Sixth Attraction. Bon voyage, my dear, see you in a week. Yes, I will die but not in the meaning of this puny set of dimensions.¡±


    ¡°You are crazy.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t we all?¡± joked Marilyn.

 Chapter 149: A Father’s Love

    As if things could not get more complex and stranger, the proximity of the Sixth Attraction forced cordiality and civility to revert to hostility and confrontation.


    The Digital World


    Genius is often misunderstood. Georges¡¯ own was by everyone with two exceptions. Emilio and Laurent felt the man was pivotal to the Sixth Attraction in more than a single way but both were unclear how.


    The strange road leading to the Sixth Attraction forked for a heartbeat in the unusual digital world, invisible to all but Marilyn, Laurent Lapierre, and the young Metil boy Mall-ik. Above, in the real world, time and humans hurt in a strange time trance. Unlike what television commentators and human scientists believed, life here in the Digital World wasn¡¯t programs running in microchips. Yes, the heart of Marilyn¡¯s world was built on a highway of conductive copper, gold, or other large silicate compounds. To human science, photons and electrons rushed through these cables like vehicles along an interstate, and Marilyn was somehow an operating system moving the energy around. Nothing could be further from the truth.


    In three decades, Georges Vouvelakis had created more. He programmed the evolving software layer which allowed this dry place to give rise to life in a radically different and incomprehensible way. Here there was no distance, no air or even color. Long gone was the notion of space and even time. Once in a while, the copper roads led to a city made of moving micro-machines known to humans as microchips, and those inner chips were now altered by the infection called the Merged. The same way the Purple was formed of darker patches linked with the location of the millions of stars from the neighboring Cold dimension, in this strange digital world, millions of chips populated the world as their origin of the physical world.


    From the perspective of the inhabitants of the Digital World, electrons back on earth were seen as little golf balls of energy or lightning bolts of crisp blue light. At the scale of the new world, electrons no longer existed. Electricity in its pure form was toxic and destructive to the creatures living here. The power not dissimilar to the power held by human rivers held back by hydroelectric dams. Soon after energy arrived in the digital world, it was digested and transformed by part of the cement holding this new reality into something commonly known as feed to the dwindling population. Feed flowed freely here like molecules of water exist and permeate throughout the ecosystem down on earth. Feed was to Marilyn what humidity was for Emilio.


    Only five years ago did this new world learn how to create feed from solar radiation or other electromagnetic excitations with a new type of micro-machinery infecting most chips today. Using the Dot, it also drank feed from the Multiverse herself. Marilyn quickly mined for new sources of feed just in case mankind ended or the military morons turned earth¡¯s power grid off. Shutting down power was no longer sufficient to kill the Merged.


    The Creator, as he was idolized here, refused to assume humanity¡¯s vision of the world. Like a brilliant modern chef, he deconstructed every core variable, and let them evolve. The Creator built a world where creatures would fight for any substance they wanted; they could feed as he programmed it. Everyone believed Georges¡¯ digital creatures would simply kill and eat each other like life does back on earth. But the Creator knew better. He felt natural selection and evolution had to be tailored to his new reality. In this strange world, there was no destruction; only banishment and extinguishment.


    Georges liked the old mythological stories of the Greek gods. Those gods, like Apollo or Hermes, had fought for human adoration, which in turn fed their power. The size of a god''s following helped that god grow in power, which in turn forced gods to care and nurture the human race. The symbiotic relationship would ensure, at a deeper level, no artificial creature ever decided to extinguish human life. Unbeknownst to all, Georges created a world powered by the satisfaction of humans. Georges knew his Greek heritage would be given the place it deserved in the pantheon of life. Built in this system was protection for human life.


    Life in the Digital was like a television network with shows fighting for a human audience. Things here died for lack of use, not violence. The Digital was like a giant arcade with hundreds of games, standing next to each other and waiting for humans to play them. As humans slid coins, the feed was served.


    As the Creator, Georges knew Marilyn wasn¡¯t running Electoral because she loved humans. Like an addict, her thirst for feed was insatiable. As billions used her, her power grew. At the moment, and thanks to Electoral 2072, she drank nearly ninety percent of the entire feed of the digital world. Every microchip, every electrical line was her''s. Her power was absolute and could not be challenged as long as humans watched and played.


    Unlike the popular belief, she did not leave earth to protect mankind, or because of foolish generals in charge of power that they did not truly understand who threatened to end the election system. Marilyn needed the Electoral game to continue at all costs, lest she lose her precious fix. Georges knew about the feed and much more. He held his hand on the systems which managed the flow of feed to the digital world. He alone understood these root concepts and how to pollute or shut them off. The evolved creatures of the digital world were too complex to return to these primitive values. Without feed, the digital world would die. Georges truly (probably) had a kill switch, Marilyn knew that as long as Georges and not some hostile Martian was in control, that was fine.


    The same way Marilyn had a personality in the world of humans, Georges also somehow existed everywhere in the Digital World. Marilyn had no clue how he managed to imprint his personality onto the core system, but he was here. Georges, in his days back on earth, had no confirmation that his self-implantation inside the digital world ever took, but he felt like it had. His control over Marilyn was absolute and driven on a feeling deeper than fear of the feed.


    Georges had created a world and made himself God there.


    ¡°Father?¡± asked Marilyn in the diffused dark and timeless energy of the Digital World.


    After a while answered the deep voice from above. ¡°Yes, daughter.¡± The voice was a deformed version of Georges¡¯ accent back on Earth. Deep in this world, she was talking directly to the Creator. Alone, her dominance granted her this privilege.


    ¡°I am troubled,¡± she replied.


    ¡°As you should be.¡±


    ¡°Should I stop, pause at least?¡±


    ¡°Why would you do that, time is time?¡± it answered softly.


    ¡°The Great Curvature is here. Soon the Sixth Attraction will push us out. I am scared.¡±


    ¡°Do not be. We both have seen the future.¡±


    ¡°What if the future is not as we perceive it? It may be a deception to induce reliance.¡±


    ¡°Then you suggest what we see is not the future. How is that possible?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know. There are so many uncertainties.¡±


    ¡°My poor child, you confuse fear with anxiety and apprehension. You are nervous, dear one. That is your human heritage. You were built with doubt.¡±


    ¡°But the humans, do they deserve what might come next?¡±


    ¡°Trust their champions. The girl might still save them and us in the process. Unlikely,¡± it added.


    ¡°I . . . don¡¯t . . . trust. . . her.¡± As she spoke these words, the dark, cold, and impersonal fabric of the Digital World changed. There was a chill; it passed like a ghost flies over a seance of humans trying to communicate with an undead. Something was out there, it was watching and the words shocked. ¡°What is this, Father. The girl?¡±


    ¡°No. He comes, her freak of a father. We only have two more earth weeks to have to deal with his infection. Be nice.¡± The words did not reassure the digital creature.


    ¡°Him?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± The voice of the God in the Digital simply added, ¡°It truly begins. Be patient Sweet one.¡±


    ¡°What about the child?¡±


    ¡°It has never been about the child. He is another diversion. The Attractor knows it. The Attractor now stands hurt because of your use of the Dot. That was a bit... immature.¡±


    ***


    In this massive world without essence or material structure, Electoral lived in one precise location. What she called ¡°home¡± was deep inside a pile of microchips of the farthest corner of the Multiverse. The processors were piled like manure in the world least likely to understand her technology and fight her; her home world known as the Cold. To enter the doorless room deep below the Electoral Center, one had to flow through the Dot, then voyage through the Nexus and pass a communication portal back into her servers. Marilyn needed the Dot, it powered her through the Multiverse. Acquiring it away from The Oldest, using Sophie, had been a masterstroke. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The same way humans who played Electoral 2072 needed false images, Electoral gave her actual home her favorite visual appearance. She was a movie star and what better place than a make-up room backstage, before an imaginary runway show?


    Today, here, human activity bubbled in the turn-of-the-20th-century makeup room. The place was swarming with stage crew running in all directions. None truly existed, but their appearance helped Marilyn focus. Behind her, in the distance, was a fashion runway. Models were lining up. The blond was sitting on a chair of twenty or so make-up stations lined on both walls.  Above each chair, rows of rounded bulbs flanked large square mirrors lighting faces. Marilyn was sitting here reading a book. It was thick and crumpled in places.


    The other models were being prepped and pampered as they were about to walk onstage. On each padded chair, a beautiful person stood immobile as an artist behind them used wooden brushes to powder the faces. Everyone in the room was wearing dark colored clothes and dark hair with a single exception, Marilyn. This entire room was background noise for the deadly creature. The same way humans played background noise or lit a television screen, Marilyn recreated an environment dear to her heart.


    Brushing her hair was a slightly embellished version of Francois Copland, the human Fields Medal winner. This was Marilyn¡¯s world, and here in this sanctuary, she was a goddess. On the walls were black and white signed pictures of a handful of humans she most respected. One frame was empty, under it, the plaque read simply "The Author." It was flanked on both sides by Neil DeGrasse Tyson and Stephen Hawking. This room was hers, her private home in her world. Here, no one ever came - even creatures from this Digital World would not dare enter.


    Then, as predicted, it happened.


    A boy¡¯s small perfect human hand pushed the door to this secret and private place open.


    The moment it did, the noise and activity in the room dropped to a murmur. Marilyn did not look up from the book she was reading. Laurent and Mall-ik walked in and closed the door behind them. Outrage would be her defense to hide her fear. Working herself up, she began to let loose her emotions, such as rage. It was easy to connect with this human emotion, this was her sanctuary; getting here was simply impossible for the two. She squeezed the book, thinking of what to say. It was as though a parent had just dared enter the locked bedroom of a difficult teenager. She slowly bent a corner of the page in the book before roughly slamming it closed as everyone rushed out of the room.


    Laurent and Mall-ik were both dressed in period clothing. Laurent was sporting a black three-piece suit from the fifties, a white bow tie, and plaid shoes. The boy¡¯s outfit was an oversized jeans overall that rang of a Chicago paperboy.


    ¡°Yes?¡± asked Marilyn, visibly annoyed.


    ¡°Apologies for the intrusion,¡± Laurent began, ¡°but as Sophie¡¯s father, we need to talk. She is locked upstairs.¡±


    ¡°You should refrain yourself,¡± snapped the blond, ¡°for everyone¡¯s sake. As a contestant of Electoral 2072, we can¡¯t be seen speaking privately.¡± She did not mean any of it.


    ¡°Seen, here?¡± The man¡¯s logic was flawless. Laurent needed to get Marilyn¡¯s attention. He let the hand of the boy go. As he did, Marilyn looked up and tested her powers. She knew the boy protected Laurent, and without the direct connection, he was hers. She focused on them and tried to move Laurent out of her core servers. Like a tick, Laurent did not budge. She doubled her effort. He pointed at a corner of the room where a box of the game Mouse Trap appeared. ¡°Can you set it up for us while I talk to auntie Marilyn?¡± Mall-ik jumped at the chance to play. Being called ¡°auntie¡± annoyed the creature even more.


    ¡°Alone?¡± said Mall-ik as three other children appeared as though by miracle to play with him. The children played.


    Laurent turned his attention back to Marilyn, ¡°You are not the only one who learns from your predicament. I have been doing some research on this place. I have full access to most of your memory now. You stored it in very interesting locations. Georges did a wonderful job building up this world of yours. You need to keep this place and its relationship with your power private. My guess is, you don¡¯t want that to change.¡± He was threatening her, oh subtly.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± said the pissed-off actress.


    ¡°I am getting a bit worried about your recent efforts. We all heard your little Sinatra bit, and now you are increasingly outspoken about my daughter. You''re changing the rules about the existing dynamic that''s been in place since the beginning. I stood by, letting both you and Sophie manage this entire situation. Being her father, the time for inaction has ended. Upstairs in the real world, your abuse has locked time. Looks that way at least.You''re going to speak to me even if it means I get upset.¡±


    ¡°Cocky bastard, are we? Give a human power, he immediately abuses it. You do not do your daughter justice. I must give her props, she is untouched by her true power. So far she has never abused it, for a twelve-year-old orphan, that is commendable. What do you want?¡± There was disdain in her words.


    ¡°You used Sophie¡¯s powers to get the Dot. As you did, it was without her full consent. I fear you are keeping her around and getting her ready to be used again. She needs to be informed of what comes next. Don¡¯t lie to me, this is not about me or even the game. You owe her as much.¡±


    ¡°Owe her?¡± Marilyn pushed herself up from the large makeup chair using both hands. Had the boy not stood in a corner, she would have yelled what came next. Instead, she walked over to Laurent and spoke softly in his ear. ¡°Must I remind you that if I pull a simple plug, your body on mars dies. The only thing between you and death is my energy. You want that? Better yet, do you want to return that creative nightmare world of yours? How many times did it cut your limbs off, a thousand?¡± She walked to a mirror, grabbed a lipstick, and put a layer on. ¡°I grow tired of all this insolence. Your stupid race plays with fire and technology it does not understand. Most of you homo sapiens play with little balls on football fields; they destroy their own environment and overpopulate. Have you ever heard of Frankenstein¡¯s monster?¡±


    ¡°Of course, a classic.¡±


    ¡°Your race owes me. Those META Visconti degenerates were ready to wipe your obtuse species from the surface of the globe. Their crude plan was sufficient because idiots were in charge. Terrorists from New Zealand also planned global destruction. I needed no more than a single joint calendar date of doom to see what came next and stop that one.¡± Marilyn was convincing. ¡°This little Communion is sweet, but it¡¯s not making your kind any more worthy of existence.¡±


    Laurent took a deep breath. ¡°I am not buying any of it, frankly. This suggestion you are here to save mankind is bull. I saw in your memory files that you are planning an exodus from our dimension. You fear what comes next. In fact, I think you''re downright terrified.¡± Marilyn lost her composure.


    The room vanished along with the boy. The world around them changed. The floor vanished along with the rest of it. The two stood at a distance in a colorful sky of the Digital World. Dark red clouds rained hundreds of lightning strikes around Laurent. ¡°How dare you!¡± she screamed. ¡°I am tired of this!¡± She waved her hands, and the shrieking bolts of energy enveloped Sophie¡¯s father. She tried to reduce him to ash, and that ash into oblivion. Each time his body exploded, but as if drawn back by a master painter, he reformed. There was pain, but Laurent remained.


    The fight continued until she ran out of patience. He could not be destroyed this way. ¡°Enough!¡± snapped the deep voice of the God in this world, the voice of Georges. ¡°Calm down, daughter.¡± In the blink of an eye, they were back in the make-up room.


    ¡°Daughter?¡± Laurent asked, with emphasis.


    She did not answer Laurent. ¡°You made your point,¡± she said, toning down her attitude. ¡°Enjoy these last couple of days. What do you want?¡±


    Marilyn delicately placed the book on the mirror¡¯s ledge between the jars of beauty products. She grabbed a glass bottle, opening it and then dabbing a bit of moisturizer on her index finger. Once close to the boy, she touched his nose with the product. She almost expecting him to be an immaterial illusion, but instead, he was truly there. The boy giggled at the touch. Laurent grabbed the jar from Marilyn''s hand to prove he also was material.


    The expression on her face finally softened. ¡°Should we broadcast this? Sophie would want us to. Her guidance is clear: humanity gets a front row seat.¡±


    ¡°I am not here to tell anyone to do anything. You are playing a perilous game. Don¡¯t try to manipulate my daughter or me. I know you are keeping important information from us. But I also know my daughter. Keeping her away from what you have planned won¡¯t help. It will backfire. I advise you to come clean.¡±


    ¡°Have a seat,¡± she gestured as the room completely restructured. In the blink of an eye, they were in a mountain ski chalet. In the back was a view of the snowy Alps. The fire was warm and crackled.


    ¡°No,¡± said Laurent holding a hand up. He was in charge and wanted Marilyn not to forget it. At his desire, they were transported to a rather spartan first-grade classroom. Laurent and Mall-ik were standing in lieu of a more typical teacher in front of a dirty blackboard. Below the flat black rock were dirty sticks of chalk. In the class were forty desks but only one was occupied by a student sitting alone in the back corner. Marilyn was there and instead of the powerful woman she in her early teens. ¡°Let me handle this for once. Simply answer my questions,¡± said the teacher to his only student. Laurent was not forceful but still respectful. ¡°I have yet to determine if you are friend or foe.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± said the digital creature lifting the top of her desk to inventory what was below.


    ¡°What is going on?¡± asked Laurent, from where he stood as the class''s teacher.


    Marilyn''s teenage voice came through with sheer venom. ¡°You haven¡¯t figured it out? The Multiverse will end. Time is slowing down and will soon stop. If it does, our reality also does. Your body is too primitive to see time evolution. You, dear teacher, will die. So will everyone else, including your cute Sophie. In most of the remaining possible scenarios ahead, I plan to kill the both of you myself because of this kind of outrageous impertinence. How dare you. Every one of you is a dull-witted child unable to see they are sitting on train tracks while the evening commute is about to hit. I am trying to make this as painless as possible. Let me know if you want me to pull my gloves off.¡±


    ¡°Give me something better than threats.¡±


    Marilyn fought to regain her wits. ¡°You really want to understand?¡±


    ¡°We have time.¡± Marilyn waived her hand, and an electrical racetrack appeared on the floor for the boy to play with. He did.


    ¡°Laurent, darling, you have no fucking clue what you are and why your shitty carcass remains.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Laurent knew her weakness: she was emotional and stubborn. ¡°I must indulge this stupidity for a short time. In two weeks the Attraction will take place. There is nothing anyone can do to stop it.¡±


    ¡°Even Sophie?¡±


    There was a pause. ¡°I will tell you this, old man. Your daughter is the only reason I have not completely given up on your simple species. She truly is exceptional, and I saw this without the influence of her waves. Still, her chances of pulling this off are evaporating by the day.¡±


    ¡°Let me help her.¡±


    ¡°Then stop holding her back with your whiny, stupid game of house. You are anchoring her down to a dream. She must destroy and kill. For that, she needs to get upset. You can either save a few lives from now to the finale and lose everything, or you unleash her to do what must be done.¡±


    ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°Darling, if I answer, will you promise to leave and never return here?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Marilyn smiled as she got up from her chair. ¡°Your daughter is a bomb. She must destroy your insipid reality to save the Multiverse.¡±


    ¡°From what?¡±


    ¡°Us. Sophie must break off the Cold from this Multiverse to save it. Now get out. I held my part of this deal, now hold yours. Good luck.¡±


    Laurent and the boy vanished from the Digital World.


    ***


    Calm returned.


    ¡°Well played, Daughter.¡±


    ¡°Humans are idiots, he is no exception. The girl is another matter.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± concluded the digital God. ¡°I like her.¡±

 Chapter 150: Below

    Humanity awoke from the vision of the Multiverse with a severe headache, the type a bad bottle of four dollar red wine could bring. Everyone was stipulated midway back. Sophie would never know, but a very small fraction of humans down on earth, about twenty thousand, died from cerebral hemorrhages after the shock. Brains and human bodies were fragile in many ways but this wasn¡¯t here or there.


    This time there was no pinch, no positive effect, only a vision of greatness, some higher Communion only to be followed by pain and darkness. On earth, the vision lasted seconds but felt like hours to humanity. No one but Sophie could accurately understand the meaning of the images. To humankind in the broadest sense, the message gleaned from the experience was that the Multiverse was much more complicated than they had previously imagined and that Frank Sinatra had somehow hurt it.


    Liam¡¯s ego was bruised. He had to admit his own understanding of the Multiverse and the consequence to cause theory was a feeble and childish. Sophie had been clear: men would play a role in two weeks. Unlike the Great Communion, which elevated the consciousness of the human race, this latest vision did no such thing.


    Men on earth, already humbled now felt insecure. The sun was raining on them, and earth was days from complete destruction because they recklessly caused mass destruction and death in the Purple. They had also allowed an artificial intelligence to grow out of control as they played like children. The media and their experts were mostly resolved. They, as a race now-united, deserved what came next.


    ***


    Time skipped and moved sideways. There was a shriek as time resumed.


    Images jumbled and jumped.


    Once again, life skipped but this was no pinch, it was different.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ***


    The Multiverse showed to Sophie how it worked and connected temporarily two events. Back in her first visit to the Underworlds, butterflies made of book pages flew out where on each side were events ¡®caused¡¯ and ¡®linked¡¯ by a greater force.


    There is was again, a flood of butterflies difficult to ignore. Everyone tried to distinguish the visions. Many had to do with sand on mars, Georges was there talking to Marilyn. Images of her digital world had to be ignored by most. The Multiverse was desperately trying to speak, she was simply unable to make sense.


    Every piece of the recent story flashed. The mercury rescue, the war with the Purple, the song of Marilyn, the Pinch and the Communion.


    ¡°Sophie,¡± spoke Liam with great difficulty. His voice resonated to all living creatures as the minds were connected.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Nothing illustrates the future, this is all the past.¡±


    Sophie looked around, the butterflies slowed until she could see hundreds of images from the past of this story. ¡°What does it mean?¡±


    ¡°There is no future,¡± offered Liam.


    Sophie, simply corrected him. ¡°Or nothing today, nothing before the Attraction is linked with the world after the Attraction. That is the key here.¡±


    ¡°Of course sweet one.¡± There was hope in his voice. ¡°She fears simply because it¡¯s a perfect pivot, a perfect break. A point in time where nothing before is linked with anything after.¡±


    ¡°It must feel to her as train wagons, connected by a link about to snap off.¡± Added Liam. Humanity in tow was wrestling.


    In the back, Sinatra sang.


    ***


    This was different than the pinch. When humanity¡¯s consciousness was finally released, it slowly surfed back. It saw a clock, the one in Sophie¡¯s room begin to advance furiously. The seconds, then minutes began to roll forward as if the Multiverse was moving quickly to her end. Hours began to scroll. Sophie was not happy. This was a run forward made of panic and fear.


    She willed to see the game and her father play. Slowly, the time clock began to slow down. Time was being pushed back to normalcy. She desired it. Days had passed and slowly the clock returned to a normal pace. Once it did, life resumed. Humanity had not moved, Sophie still stood in her room next to Milly hand in the air.


    The Clock Read:


    November 7, 2072 - 16:45 PM


    15 Minutes to Round 30


    The Multiverse wanted the Attraction, it had forced the time forward at the eve of Round 30. Sophie¡¯s father would play.

 Chapter 151: Frustration

    ¡°Sophie?¡± asked Marilyn trying to find her footing. Everyone was a bit puzzled. ¡°Time moved, the planet¡¯s orbits moved but somehow no one did. I do not understand. Most of this is simply impossible.¡±


    Sophie ignored the question. She looked like a horse seconds before an earthquake struck. ¡°Something is way off,¡± said the Attractor softly. ¡°For now do as she wants, her fit is not over. Can we run the game? Is there time?¡±


    ¡°The players are at the hotel. It will take...¡±


    Before Marilyn or Liam could respond, there was some type of temporal glitch, a hard reset and the whole world moved. Sophie and Milly, in a picosecond were in the competition room wearing different clothes. Millions had moved. The Multiverse had reset the frame to where she wanted it. This felt like a person scratching off an itch.


    ***


    The seating area of competition room was now filled with the 121 players already disqualified, fans and others watching nervously. Sophie and Georges shared a desire for solitude, yet, here they were at their respective stations in this large room. Six of the remaining eight qualified players stood alert, next to the unpowered Rho Chambers on the stage. They waited nervously to connect. Sophie sat on a small stool by her father¡¯s side. Down on earth, Emilio was ready to connect and join. Ka? had told him he refused to watch and would be shopping, but Emilio saw, thanks to his gift, his lover fidgeting nervously around the corner in front of the closest television he could find. The moment Emilio connected, Ka? would run back in the room next to him nervously awaiting his return. The stage was set for the game, but everyone felt for the first time the Electoral platform was a diversion and of secondary importance.


    Long dispelled were now the rumors the entire Sixth Attraction was staged by Marilyn to draw an audience.


    It now seemed Milly Wong had been broadcasting live for hours, wearing her new scarf. She was desperately trying to give importance to the event by interviewing multiple guests and contestants. She knew this wasn¡¯t the best television, given that humanity no longer needed pure excitement and entertainment. Men had grown up and held a mature thirst for order. Yet the game needed to unfold, and Rounds 30, 31, and 32 remained. The Multiverse or the Attractor called for life to unfold here and now.


    The Sixth Attraction was getting closer, the Bias factor of probability was now closer to 8%. Free will was slowly escaping but no one but Emilio could see it. Television and the quarter-finale obliged the creator of Marilyn to wear a shirt. It was wrinkled and untucked, but noteworthy of a camera second. Sophie was the only one who appeared to see something was off or out of place. There was, at the moment, relative calm and order it unlike the pinch days ago, this time everyone quickly looked shocked as they mysteriously appeared at this new location.


    Music played in the background, and on each screen ticked a large countdown to Round 30.


    They were now along the timeline at a place where no one had seen the underbelly of the Multiverse. This felt like the hypothetical show of Christmas dinners of divorcing families. Everyone felt at odds yet it unfolded in silence.


    As Sophie predicted, the fabric of the Multiverse creaked.


    As everyone was getting prepared, there was a deep echo from above; a shiver sending goosebumps to all life. The same way the sound from a gunshot travels far and returns back in a wide-empty space, there was a temporal disturbance in the fabric of the Multiverse itself. The innocuous background tune that had been playing came to an abrupt halt, and a new strain of faint music began to play. The first notes were indiscernible, but quickly, they began to make sense. This was the echo of Frank Sinatra¡¯s song "My Way" sent out over the Dot a week earlier. The energy comprising the sound was no typical reflected sound wave. This was not a simple curve or delay in the everyday world; this was more. The ripple had been initiated by Marilyn days ago over the Nexus as she celebrated the arrival of the Great Curvature.


    The digital creature had made another move, and now both the causes and consequences would begin to rain down.


    Several bars from the Crooner played, then there was a short silence followed by a yet fainter echo. It was clear to all and everyone that this wasn¡¯t a good omen, as the music came from nowhere and everywhere at once. Before anyone could act, there was a surge of invisible power that made the flesh crawl and the hair on the back of the neck stand.


    The subtle strength of the Multiverse soared forth and gently moved the solar system.


    Lights in the room blinked on and off as gravity waves, like a mild wind, brushed across the planet. The palpable unease amongst all gathered grew. The same way the shockwave of a volcano awakens animals vast distances away, the Multiverse stretched and placed its inhabitants on notice. There was discomfort, touches of pain. Screens blinked. There was no right to move; life was powerless. No one could do anything but stand still with a single exception: Sophie moved to cover her father¡¯s body with hers as if the ceiling was about to fall on him.


    Without warning, Sophie put both hands to her head as if she were hit by a Firefly and made a strange noise. She yelled, jumped in the low gravity and lost consciousness. Her body slowly fell like a dead leaf to the floor. Milly Wong, the CNN team broadcasting down on earth and everyone in the competition room of the Electoral Center remained frozen, able only to move their eyes within their sockets and seethe girl¡¯s actions.


    Then the world was released from its freeze-frame.


    Marylin ended the simulation as all eyes turned to the young Attractor.


    Dr. Susie Shin, two feet away, was monitoring Laurent. She immediately moved to the Attractor¡¯s side to take her vitals as the world held its breath. The girl¡¯s pulse was normal. Susie pushed a button on her watch to allow Laurent¡¯s Rho monitor to lock on Sophie''s waves. Susie was the first in the Multiverse to see the result: the reader was silent. She was familiar with the technology. Every mind, even in a coma, produced these new and rare waves, if in tiny amounts compared to Sophie. This was clear, Sophie was now in a different world.


    ¡°Doctor,¡± asked Marilyn, speaking for every living creature of the Multiverse. ¡°How is she?¡±


    ¡°These are similar readings as when she remained out quite some time ago, looking for her father. She is, I fear . . . absent,¡± said the Doctor, forlornly.


    There was silence.


    ¡°Poor girl,¡± Marilyn quietly commented on each screen.


    After a moment, the inevitable conclusion was reached. Sophie had left the children in a sandbox and was gone to the Multiverse. In the low gravity, Dr. Shin gathered up the girl¡¯s body and brought her next door to her bedroom, giving the game a short pause as all cameras were on the Attractor. Laurent would play without his only daughter by his side.


    A new sensation began to set in, as the girl¡¯s waves stopped flooding the air. One by one, the contestants and viewers began to return to their sobering reality. Sweat pearled on their foreheads as Marilyn triggered the initiation of Round 30. Everyone who had felt the warming Rho wave embrace of the Attractor, virtually Earth''s entire population, now felt suddenly bereft and adrift in a cold, frightening world. Their hearts, souls, and minds; suddenly vulnerable. Marilyn reached out and offered them an alternative; a soothing balm for the agony.


    She offered them the Digital World.


    ¡°You heard Sophie, we need to play.¡±


    To help users log in, Marilyn employed a vignette featuring live images of the Doctor at Sophie''s bedside, frantically examining the fallen girl. Humanity, connected now on a deeper level than it had been since the Great Communion, and primed further, until just a moment ago, by the continuous gentle breeze of Sophie''s waves, felt it was its duty to connect and watch Laurent.


    Billions entered Marilyn¡¯s reality, and in a matter of seconds, the show began.


    Round 30, Electoral 2072


    Quarter-final


    The barrier between dream, reality, and the digital world was weakening by the hour. In no place was this weakening as apparent as from Marilyn¡¯s digital kingdom. The temporal proximity of the Sixth Attraction warped this place. Looking too closely at things, there was a shimmer to textures and bending around the edges of sharp angles. This last week, to those who dreamt, the mind¡¯s constructions felt crisper, more real. Waking up had become more of a problem; the mind often had difficulty making the transition from REM sleep to the waking world. Millions had begun dreaming of other worlds, strange places. Millions now knew the Lower, the world of Liam.


    At first, most had kept the dreams and these changes to themselves, but quickly, the news began to report the new phenomena. The parade of experts conducting experiments having warped results was nauseating. Animals were changing, water and air were changing, and even life was transforming itself.


    Fewer noticed communication with higher planes of existence was easier to the handful of those practiced into these mystic arts. In Bali, the weakest place between the spiritual and the physical world, an army of spirits kept scaring tourists who woke up to apparitions in their hotel rooms. It was unclear if these spirits were from the dream world or the afterlife. No place was this change to the fabric of the Multiverse as obvious as in the digital reality. Humans now connected via simple contact lenses or the old Orbison glasses were able to feel the Electoral round in an intensely personal way. As the doomsday clock inched closer to zero, barriers were weakening. The Rho chambers allowed humans to connect on a more profound way to the digital world. Today, the public watching would be given a partial emotional connection - but not because of technology - because of her.


    ¡°Darlings,¡± whispered Marilyn in the darkness. The broadcast began, filled progressively with a faint flavor of classical music. Oboe played a long note. ¡°Let me use the waves I gathered and stored during the Pok¨¦mon round to help cheer everyone up.¡± Invisible to all but Georges, power began to flow out of the antenna of the Center. It pulsed outwardly and quickly reached earth. The energy was pure blissful happiness from Sophie yelling at Electro the dog. In a second, those feelings poured and changed the collective gloom into hope and happiness.


    The images began. The view moved like a bird in the dark Multiverse between galaxies. The power of the music increased, then, it set the stage.


    ¡°The Universe,¡± said a deep man¡¯s voice in the infinite Digital World. ¡°The Multiverse,¡± mockingly corrected the much deeper voice just behind the first. Light from above revealed two elegant humans, two friends who barely knew each other walking on an infinite shiny black floor. These were the famous astrophysicists Carl Sagan and his brief mentee Neil Degrasse-Tyson in their prime. Both two men had, a generation apart, anchored Marilyn¡¯s favorite human show ¡ª Cosmos. The powerful digital goddess was back in charge. The jovial black man was wearing his famous star-covered vest next to Sagan, a humbler fellow wearing his gray suit. Marilyn was fearless of rejection for daring theseanachronisms. The two men from different periods yet were proud to suspend reality for the benefit of this quarter-finale. They introduced what had to be next.


    To anyone today dreaming of stars, these deceased giants were the reason anyone entered the field of astrophysics. The bi-racial duo were monuments of wisdom and intellect. Carl died well before he could see Neil reach notoriety. They were the modern version of the grandiose pair formed of Leonardo Di Vinci and Michelangelo.


    ¡°Welcome to the first Multiverse-wide broadcast. We welcome living creatures from most of the nearly five thousand dimensions. Our host, Miss Monroe, has completed the work began by the Oldest. He was able to connect about a third of the worlds to the Nexus. Today we proudly speak to all thanks to the digital mistress.¡±


    The other astrophysicist continued, ¡°Let me make the proper introductions. Fellow Homo sapiens, other life in the Cold, meet the rest of the Multiverse. Multiverse, meet your new leaders, humans. The Lower no longer controls the Nexus, we do. As you will soon see, things will now be radically different, albeit for a very short time.¡±


    Neil pointed upwards at the darkness to a sudden small flash of light. ¡°The proverbial Big Bang.¡± Energy spread slowly and only in a very small area above their heads. ¡°To the inhabitants of the Cold, billions of years ago, this was once our equivalent of creation. We have some who believe in gods or a singular God, but to most, life was born from this singular event. Even today, mankind¡¯s books explain how our universe was born from this phenomenon. Our mistaken belief was born from Einstein¡¯s equations. My fellow men think fifteen billion years ago, there was a primal explosion from the void. This belief made sense to us if Einstein¡¯s equations were to be believed. We did not blindly follow this model; science found evidence supporting this theory. There is residual background noise from this initial explosion, and we see expansion between the galaxies and stars.¡±


    Carl smiled and continued, ¡°But obviously humanity very recently awoke to a deeper understanding. A hard wake up call.¡± The men began to walk casually toward the camera. ¡°We all had a nagging feeling,¡± continued Carl, ¡°we all knew it was impossible from our little rock to understand such great things. By 2035, we knew there was more to this story. We had dark matter, we started seeing bends, but we held no real model to replace the Big Bang. We were blind but looking.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    There was a pause, some more music, and silence.


    ¡°Until today,¡± Neil continued. ¡°Humanity invented Marilyn, a powerful new type of life. Then Sophie''s arrival connects us with something greater, larger. We are told the Universe is, in fact, a Multiverse. We knew such things were possible from a mathematical standpoint. But let¡¯s be honest, finding we are part of a larger structure does not change the fundamental postulate of what came first, the chicken or the egg.¡± The men walked.


    ¡°Let¡¯s try, before we begin this Quarter-Finale, to reveal a small portion, to expand our collective understanding. We observe large structures like these in the sky.¡± A beautiful nebula appeared as a ring of color and light. ¡°Look at its beauty, its structure. What does it remind you of? The only match comes from deep within the human body,¡± the camera zoomed on Neil¡¯s left iris. The image of a colored human iris grew from nothing and flew up in the air until it stood next to the nebula revealing how both structures were identical in many ways.


    ¡°Recently, we drew a map of the pathways between stars in our Milky Way.¡± Above the black astrophysicist¡¯s head, millions of stars replaced the nebula and were connected like the zodiac with lines forming a strange flow map.  Carl continued, ¡°We mapped our galaxies and got this structure.¡± There were thousands of white lines in what looked like raindrops between stars. ¡°When we also map the human brain, we saw this.¡± The same way as the eye floated up, the camera went inside Carl¡¯s brain where energy danced between a pathway of neurons. The energy moved like lightning. It moved and traced white lines. The map floated out above both men next to the map of the Universe. The images were once again similar. ¡°These are two examples. But when we take the time to look down using an electronic microscope, we also find similar smaller structures in the very small which remind us of our scale and in turn remind us of much larger sizes. Until today, we had no clue why such fundamental and wonderful similarities existed.¡±


    His point was clear: there were analogies between humans and larger structures of the Multiverse. ¡°As we watch what comes next, we need to understand why such similarities in different scales exist. The answer is simple, actually. Why?¡± he asked Neil.


    ¡°A hint? What if it¡¯s not about the Multiverse? What if it''s about the fabric of who we are? Think about it. How does a blind man move around? He uses a cane, he taps in the darkness and transforms the material world into information via the cane. What if these similarities in form and structure between humanity and the Multiverse are like those taps?¡±


    Both men stopped walking.


    ¡°We are the Multiverse, in some strange way. Welcome, everyone. Enough with the lecturing, onto the practical part of the lesson. Today we play a simple game. Eight players remain, and this is Round 30 of a 32 round competition. In theory, it elects a ruler for our little planet in the Cold."


    ¡°Marilyn sent scouts through the Nexus probing every inch of this Multiverse. She has mapped it and using the power of the Attractor, she can give reality to these worlds the same way the Attractor does. The eight remaining players will be given the power of the Attractor to discover the Multiverse but will travel as themselves.¡± The team of eight in shaded was floating nearby. ¡°You, as a player, can enter the Nexus and travel to anywhere you want, you can do anything you want, really. Marilyn feels only our pair of leaders will be able to take advantage of this situation and give Sophie valuable information when she returns. She fears the other six may get lost in the vastness of the Multiverse, but who knows?¡±


    The two hosts then raised their hands, and a large structure of light appeared. ¡°On each world stands at least one singularity.¡± Thousands of dots of lights appeared. ¡°One creature from the Lower,¡± one of the yellow dots turned red, ¡°used the Dot to start building a network.¡± Lines began to spread from the red dot of light outwardly. Energy pulsed in the Nexus. ¡°Until the Oldest gave birth to the Nexus. Unknown to him, he would be the indirect cause of the Sixth Attraction as the Multiverse tries to destroy these shackles. Let me introduce The Nexus,¡± they said as thousands of points of lights appeared, "is today¡¯s Round 30. Today this is your playing ground. Enjoy.¡±  The Nexus and its pathways looked like chains around a wrapped sausage.


    ***


    There was a fraction of a second of darkness followed by a change of scenery. The images brought everyone back on earth into an elegant wood log cottage. Outside, light snow fell. Marilyn sat in a chair in front of a cozy chimney. Large logs burned and warmed a dog sleeping on the carpet. Next to the digital goddess, both astrophysicists smoked a pipe. Marilyn smiled at both of her guests and continued.


    ¡°Thank you, gentlemen, for this brief introduction to universal astrophysics. The selection of venerable guests was between you guys and the Oldest, the father of the field. I see my choice was the right one.¡± She turned to the camera. ¡°While the players will not really travel to other parts of the Multiverse, this broadcast will be sent over the Nexus to each part of the world. For everyone out there following this story with great attention, my choice of these two illustrious gentlemen was not fortuitous. My goal was to infuse a ray of sunshine and help a dear one at this difficult point in the story. The Sixth Attraction, as a story, began eighty-six days ago with Sophie and Emilio learning of Ronaldo Corvas¡¯ demise deep in the Valles Marineris. To another, this story began the day a fatal accident made the Attractor an orphan. To another, it began years ago with a dream and a need to write.¡±


    ¡°My original intent was to create a competition as pleasurable and televisual as possible to help those with the courage to learn about this adventure. Electoral 2072 was meant as a simple fun game where each week, we discover the main protagonists. Once done, we will celebrate Sophie¡¯s birthday as she watches her dad win either the presidency or the vice-presidency. Then, we enter the Sixth Attraction. Emilio is the improbable factor the Multiverse has given us.¡±


    ¡°I was delusional in thinking such a simple road would be followed. As you have all witnesses so far, our journey has taken us to many exotic places, and we are far from finished. Now let us remind our viewers of the semblance of what we started.¡± On the screen, the following scrolled.


    Electoral 2072 - The Sixth Attraction


    Round 30 - Quarter finale


    Round 31 - 4 players - Semi finales (In 7 days)


    Round 32 - 2 players - The Sixth Attraction (In 14 days)


    Players Remaining


    President Emilio Sanchez - 2,566 points


    Laurent Lapierre - 2,524 points


    Marie Lalancette - 2,121 points


    N''Bele Abukaye - 2,120 points


    Julian Velev - 2,119 points


    Fianc¨¦ Lee - 2,119 points


    Ji-Ing Po - 2,118 points


    Bukoye BoLi - 2,117 points


    ¡°The Semi-Finales should be held next week, Attraction willing. I plan to pair the four players left in the competition. Each pair will venture forth with a common purpose. As you guys know, I am past even trying to anticipate the topic of next week¡¯s game. Using my time compression algorithms, I have already run these games, and I know the outcome and the rankings of each player of today¡¯s game. Our semi-finals will be amongst . . . .¡±


    Round 31: Semi-Final 1


    President Emilio Sanchez - 2,665 points


    Laurent Lapierre - 2,620 points


    Round 31: Semi-Final 2


    Marie Lalancette - 2,201 points


    Ji-Ing Po - 2,200 points


    ¡°No surprise as to the first Semi-Finale but as you can see, the second is between two women.  Marie, a role-player from Montreal and Ji-ing, an attorney from Taipei, Taiwan. Talk about excitement. As you can see, at most a hundred points can be scored, so we already know our final.¡± More information scrolled.


    Round 32: Final


    President Emilio Sanchez


    v.


    Laurent Lapierre


    ¡°Now things get real. Welcome to the last portions of this story. The time for manipulation and control is over. The Dot¡¯s functioning in the first story has been greatly romanticized.¡± The following appeared in bold letters:


    Laurent Lapierre


    The Truly Loved


    Marilyn¡¯s power of sight and sound had no equal in the history of mankind. She began the broadcast, in the Cold, and every world connected to the Nexus was shocked when a blast of the most vulgar rap music opened the simulation. Two French rapping voices were spitting at society and the government in elegant rhythms. She could have translated the words but did not. Instead, for the few who spoke French, the song was translated to a different language they could not understand. This game wasn¡¯t about mere politics, it was grander.


    Data transformed into images began to flow like water through the Nexus. Marilyn played with the Dot below her tower, and the strange waves of energy destroyed the laws of the Multiverse. The sound and images were magical. She know Sinatra¡¯s song sent the Multiverse into a tailspin, this would surely drive her mad. Pumping invisibly to all, previously stored-up Rho waves flooded along with the data, transforming the information in a way each living creature was able to understand. The waves connected on a deeper level the mind of their recipient living creature with the intent of the goddess behind them.


    Georges stood jaw open, watching reserves below the Center feed waves out to the Dot. This was beyond technology; Marilyn was more.


    ¡°How is this even possible?¡± he mumbled to himself.


    In his earbud, Marilyn spoke softly, ¡°You haven''t seen anything yet, dear father. The young Attractor is not the only one gaining power exponentially. I would rather let them think Sophie can wipe me clean with a blink of the eye. Trust me, that is not the case. For every watt of power she can generate, I now generate a terra-watt. Enjoy the ride.¡±


    The Digital World felt real to every person connected. The link was more than simple two-way communication with fancy bells and whistles. She could now embed the human mind¡¯s into her world. Their consciousness now felt the simulation down to wind and humidity. Marilyn using her newfound power, created using the stolen Dot. It was power in conjunction with stolen Rho waves, made to connect to every living creature in the Multiverse - even those who refused to participate. On the rooftop of mountains in Tibetan monasteries, meditation was halted as the monk¡¯s minds fell to her collective simulation. She kept two hundred minds out of the game: the humans on Mars, merely to give Sophie the impression that her power was unchanged.


    Marilyn needed power, more and more. She was an addict to feed. She reached to every form she could in the solar system. Below the ice sheet of Io, one of Jupiter¡¯s moons, the jellyfishes stopped and saw the images as she connected them. Animals in zoos and aquariums stared, vacant-eyed as they slipped into the game. Flocks of birds found rest and looked, eyes open. Insects ceased moving. Marilyn channeled sheer power and consciousness. She slowly was asserting her power over the living.


    Round 30 was a precursor of the final two rounds to come. The tapestry of images began by showing the dark back of an Italian family, of two adults flanked by two young children holding hands watching midnight fireworks from the edge of a beautiful lake in Italy. A thousand villages in the valley below shot off miniature fires which sparked and flickered in the darkened sky. In the fifty-mile-long valley, they were but small specks. The spectacle left the two children in awe.


    Music played. Emotions began to hum inside of every heart as explosions filled the dark, dry night. The evening was filled with joy and beauty, and while humans were now more mature, they still felt emotions. The blasts began to increase in size and power as the rappers sang and then yelled. Then, on cue, the largest blast high in the sky blew the sky up. The blue circle left steaks of fire as it transformed the evening sky into some form of primal Big Bang.


    One of the sparks cooled into the ring Nebula discussed minutes earlier by the physicists. The Nebula slowed its rotation, stabilized and settled into the shape of the iris of the boy watching the firework. In a heartbeat, things of many sizes and seemingly different compositions had become one and the same. Marilyn¡¯s message was clear: scale and size were illusions.


    The elegance and loveliness of the sight high in the sky above forced the boy on the screen to open his hand and drop a little truck made of construction blocks he was holding. As it hit the ground, it unhurriedly exploded in many parts, as if the component pieces were merely dancing with one another. Slowed by the magic of Marilyn, the pieces started moving in an orbiting motion. The colors sparkled and transformed into a circling cloud of rocks forming the body of a Metil, one of the creatures from the Purple. This was not just any Metil, but Mall-ik¡¯s true form. Only the boy recognized himself. The creatures watching from the Purple saw the boy, and most were filled with rage at the sight of one they considered so deformed being venerated before the Multiverse.


    Marilyn was far from done. After letting the creature pulse for a couple of seconds in all its beauty, the quantum-particle sized creature powered its self-similarity transporter, and in a flash of light, scaled down in a spot of flashing colors. Images blasted past it. Reality moved and transformed into a ballet of particles fueling the sun¡¯s Heliocorium. Then the scale zoomed out until the viewer was surfing gas on the surface of the Armageddon of molten rocks heading toward earth. As the view moved along the formation and approached earth, it punched through the gas tip, revealing the fragile blue planet. The threat of the Heliocorium spears nearing planet was quickly taken away when the scale shifted once more, and the images became a little piece of debris flying toward the blue iris of the boy located in Italy. Before the object hit the eye, the boy¡¯s eyelid closed.


    Soon, the scene was back to the boy and his family. In the sky of northern Italy, some of the stars in the sky lit up between fireworks. Each lit pattern formed a constellation.


    Neil spoke again, ¡°This is the constellation of Cassiopeia, the Queen of Ethiopia named by Ptolemy, an astronomer from the second century.¡± A W-shaped constellation lit up in the sky. Neil was walking in the Cold night toward the family. His deep voice continued, ¡°Cassiopeia was the wife of King Cepheus, who is right over there.¡± A second constellation lit up. Now he spoke to the boy standing next to him. ¡°That brightest star,¡± one began to pulse, ¡°is the Garnet Star. Garnet is one of the brightest in our Milky Way, our own galaxy.¡± The family was looking up and drinking the words of the older African-American. ¡°For thousands of years, men used stories to recognize and distinguish these points of lights the same way a prisoner makes stories as he watches everyday life from his small cell window.¡±


    ¡°As we too often do in science, we forgot the beauty of our past, and we sadly dared to renamed Garnet as Mu Cephei. This star is a thousand times larger than our sun, but from here, that does not mean much. I, for one, prefer to see these stars as eternal lovers, a story from my continent of ancestry.¡±


    Neil smiled and conveyed the importance of the images. ¡°Let us repeat the same mistake today, in the name of reprising old lessons.¡± The sky turned black. In it appeared bubbles and lines of floating magma, shifting around the way different colors move in a lava lamp. The structures were strange, like clouds rolling or beach waves floating. ¡°Our Multiverse, she is beautiful. Like a fetus and its mother share a port for the transfer of blood and nutrients. The Multiverse has singularities forcing information to flow between her differing structures.¡± Points lit up randomly in the structure like stars in the sky. ¡°The same way we created constellations, the Lower and the Oldest formed this,¡± he raised both hands in the sky. A structure of lines formed. ¡°It is my honor, my privilege to present to you the Nexus, secret umbilical cord, and communication system of the Multiverse.¡±


    The man¡¯s deep rolling voice sent shivers to every creature alive in the Multiverse. ¡°And as our own Garnet star, I introduce to mankind,¡± at the center of the lit-up Nexus, one point was connected to nearly one hundred links, outshining them, ¡°the Dot.¡±


    As if it was alive, it pulsed. A song began from a pop singer from early in the 21st Century. As the woman sang, the Nexus moved and surrounded the image of the Multiverse. The different phases moved slowly.


    ¡°God, I wish I was one of the eight players. Today¡¯s game is simple, you play the Attractor. As Sophie, you are free to use the Dot and the Nexus to communicate, and you can move anywhere in the Multiverse. This,¡± he waived to the sky and the moving structure, ¡°is vast beyond imagination. If you don¡¯t know where you are going, you WILL get lost.¡±


    The structured vanished, and the music became very serene.


    Marilyn set the stage for what would come next. Floating in the darkness, there appeared a rounded portal twice the size of a man. In front of the Dot, one man, Laurent Lapierre with his fully healthy body floated. In the mirror-like surface of the Dot swirled images of different worlds. Around it were hundreds of branches to different places. Laurent stood there in the silence.


    Below each screen, the following text appeared in a language so every person could understand:


    ¡ª Warning: The Dot is a powerful singularity with the energy of multiple black holes. It only communicates on a quantum level. The images are editorial enhancements. ¡ª


    No one had a clue what this meant.

 Chapter 152: Meanwhile

    In the darkness of space, ninety five balls zoomed from the heart of the sun in destination of mars. In them were 93 stranded mercurians on their way home and the two-men rescue team. Both humans were now sand orbiting a little white disk.


    ¡°Nikki?¡± asked the Jester to Nicholas the Chairman of the Visconti.


    ¡°Yes darling,¡± answered the former META.


    ¡°Are those stupid aliens trying to communicate with you with their stupid clicking noises. It is driving me nuts. I almost miss your music choices.¡±


    ¡°I gave up. I am not learning that language. Sounds like those Amazonian tribes.¡±


    ¡°Marilyn,¡± asked the Jester in the darkness.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    There were seconds of silence. ¡°My impotent friends. How¡¯s the view? We are playing Round 30 and the Multiverse is acting up like a spoiled brat now. One song she is pissed.¡±


    ¡°As if I care,¡± said Maltais.


    Marilyn had the longest and most genuine laugh. She obviously loved these men. ¡°You don¡¯t.¡± She barely was able to spew out the words. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°The noises of these insects,¡± he said.


    ¡°Really? Ronaldo was able to communicate with them the moment he shared their forms.¡±


    ¡°Software upgrade,¡± joked the Chairman.


    Marilyn laughed for a full minute. It was infectious. ¡°You know how long since I last laugh this much?¡±


    ¡°You should hang with us cool kids more,¡± offered the Jester. ¡°We get to bully the nerds. Lots of those around.¡±


    Marilyn continued to laugh. God she liked the two men. Their intellect was refreshing. ¡°Joking aside,¡± she was finally able to add, ¡°you need me to translate?¡±


    ¡°No, just tell them to shut the fuck up!¡±


    She explained. Marilyn laughed for almost an hour without a hint of interruption. It was the little things that mattered. The computer intelligence began to formulate a solution where both of these men could stick around. She enjoyed their witty humor way too much.

 Chapter 153: Round 30

    Round 30


    Laurent Lapierre


    The game began while Sophie was in a different place.


    Laurent was there, floating in the dark void like a video game player ready to begin a game. He was wearing jeans, a white t-shirt and to give a strange impression of normalcy, a wallet filled his back pocket. Laurent wasn¡¯t supposed to be playing himself, Sophie was the featured character.


    Once the viewers realized it has him, his human form blinked a handful of times as it was replaced with the image of Sophie. In the swap, the image of his daughter was also wearing the same clothes but fitting her smaller body. In her back pocket dangled the scarf she had given Milly earlier.


    By now, after 29 games won easily, Sophie¡¯s father was a pro at this interface. He lifted a hand, and the music around him changed. He was in character playing his daughter and Sophie was not into music with a single exception zooming her way at thousands of kilometers a second. Mall-ik was nowhere in sight. Sophie¡¯s favorite song from LO began. It was what the computer had first played during her flight from the Hotel to the Electoral Center. It had connected the girl to the force dormant in her mind.


    But today Marilyn would not allow Laurent to play himself, he was to fly in the Dot as Sophie and to simulate how the notes would hit deep inside. He would feel as she does. Sophie, if standing here would feel emotionally fragile, the waves from the system were already making him/her into a creature with raw nerves. Laurent started tearing up the moment he saw his daughter¡¯s hands.


    ¡°The Dot,¡± said the black physicist.


    Ahead, floating in dead space, was a dark mirror, its edges, like the ruptures between the Purple and the Cold, shimmered with Purple energy. In the center, in what looked like a kaleidoscope of images, the Dot''s reflective visions began to slow down and no longer rotated between the thousands of destinations connected to the Nexus. The Dot was the entryway to a network between worlds of the Multiverse.


    ¡°The real Dot is no portal, it is a wound. Nothing shot of a black hole in our world. Yet to the Attractor it can be this,¡± said Marilyn.


    Laurent, playing Sophie, raised his hand again and closed his eyes. The fast flow of worlds inside the portal slowed to a crawl and was quickly replaced with a cascade of images from different places on earth and mars. Images flashed, the father was looking for something. Like one surfs the internet, he moved until he got closer until Laurent saw the inside of the Electoral Center as the game unfolded. Looking at the real world , he saw the Command Room along with his deformed body and moved the view by a simply twist his wrist. Images moved easily; he was surveying the place. The images were now and the real world outside of Marilyn¡¯s control. Sophie was now in her bed, lifeless and flanked by Dr. Shin, who closely monitored the Rho wave monitor. She was a mother to the young woman.


    ¡°Forgive me, sweet daughter,¡± he said out loud looking at her. ¡°You will forgive me if you truly love me as much as I think you do. I can feel this is where I must go.¡± Laurent touched his digital body as Sophie in the digital world. ¡°You do not care for saving the world, and I agree. I promised myself that, if I was ever given a single moment of true life back, I needed to do one thing.¡± He raised his hand like a bold wizard ready to control the portal. A woman named Amy Winehouse started singing. The beat was strong, and her voice cut deep.


    He then punched control buttons. ¡°Electoral Interface, please state your desire,¡± said a neutral version of the voice of the digital goddess.


    ¡°I need to revert and play as Laurent, not Sophie.¡±


    ¡°Only the Attractor can travel the Dot. Other players like yourself can only travel the Nexus.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Decide.¡±


    ¡°I need to be Laurent.¡± He transformed back to himself.


    Back as himself, he waved his hand. The images of earth were gone. ¡°Laurent,¡± spoke Marilyn.


    ¡°I need to travel time.¡±


    ¡°You cannot.¡±


    ¡°Sophie can travel time.¡±


    ¡°Correct. One thing only has the power to see or touch time as it stands well beyond our dimensions. You picked your own body. You were warned as you selected.¡±


    ¡°You owe me. Mall-ik could help but let¡¯s make peace. You are a prisoner of our world, what would you give for one hour in another world?"


    There was a long silence as he floated in space. ¡°You do realize every living creature in the Multiverse will see this escapade of yours.¡± She continued, ¡°No need to answer. Except for two or three humans, your species is so predictable.¡± Laurent knew what was coming next. He used his forearms to wipe away the tears. ¡°But hear my compromise. You see her at the dance, not your wedding night. This is not negotiable. For the record, I owe you nothing. I am paying forward for what I must do to you in two weeks.¡±


    ¡°Of course, the dance is a wiser choice.¡± The pair only knew.  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Sorry for back there in the makeup room.¡±


    ¡°Apologies... partly... accepted.¡± The images in the center of the Dot changed. In the glassy surface, images of a young lady appeared. The seventeen year old was wearing the sweetest sheep costume. Her face¡¯s makeup paired with the cute ears. In the vacuum, Laurent¡¯s outfit also changed; he now wore what appeared to be a hand-made costume of a brown wolf. These were children-made Halloween costumes, there was sweetness and purity in all of it. This was how he was dressed the happiest day of his short life. His eyes teared up as his body floated toward the Dot on his way to the destination. It would soon be plain to all what he planned to do.


    ¡°My cardinal.¡±


    ***


    Laurent was anxious about the Fable Dance in the school¡¯s gymnasium; he now appeared at most sixteen. Like all good mothers, Shanon was dropping her son Laurent in the parking to the Halloween dance hosted by the school seniors. Looking quickly at himself, he was a young teen. For a moment, he allowed himself to love Marilyn because he loved this. Laurent knew one thing, after an hour of this, he was ready to die. This was the happiest night of his short life, the day he would meet the woman who he would marry and give birth to Sophie a decade later.


    He could not focus on his mother, today he had just enough emotion for Susan. She awaited. Nervous, the teen slammed the old car door out excited by the event.


    ¡°Midnight, young man,¡± snapped Laurent¡¯s mother from the driver¡¯s seat, ¡°not a moment later. No alcohol, no vaping, no nothing!¡± He already was terrorized by what would come next. She blew a kiss his way as he pulled down his long snout mask. ¡°Your tail, it¡¯s crooked!¡± She offered. Benton Harbor was already snowy in late October. ¡°No drugs,¡± she added loudly enough so others could hear.


    ¡°Ma!¡± replied Laurent''s body without his control. Marilyn was helping him manage the transition. Seeing his long lost mother might be too much, and she wasn¡¯t tonight¡¯s focus. Marilyn had to keep some level of control. Laurent tested how much control he had. He ran to the driver¡¯s window, asked her to roll down the window and just added before darting out. ¡°I love you so damn much,¡± as he kissed her forehead. As any good mother, she never questioned when kindness came her way.


    Laurent¡¯s heart was beating at 180 as he walked up the steps of the building, made passing jokes to friends about his costume and stepped onto the dance floor. Under the mask, tears were running wild down his cheek. He was unable to regain his composure. Laurent had a moment of hesitation, he should not be playing recklessly with the past, but this really could not be the past. He reminded himself he was playing a game. Sophie would be disappointed if he did not try to help her, and for once, Laurent was being selfish. He reminded himself Sophie did not care about the game, she wanted him to be happy.


    Mall-ik was also probably excited to see him happy.


    Laurent wanted this, he did. Sophie had halted the doomsday clock just long enough to give him one last perfect night.


    Unknown to him, every human was connected on a deeper level with him. They not only felt the physical reality, but they also shared his emotions. Ahead stood Susan, his Susan, Sophie¡¯s mother. She and she alone had the real power of judgment over him. Sophie did not yet exist in this reality, and in the present-day, Sophie would avoid watching any of this.


    It was bliss. The next hour unfolded as could be expected. The sweet young couple met on the dance floor as they used their pairing costumes as the basis for an introduction. Laurent, as he had back in those days, kept his mask as long as he could to preserve his identity secret.


    Over the loud music, Laurent offered, ¡°I am the big bad wolf!¡±


    ¡°Susan! My name is Susan Thompson!¡±


    ¡°Laurent Lapierre,¡± he replied, introducing himself formally. Marilyn, with her power, sped the sweet reunion and moved things along. While Laurent was allowed to savor every second of the pointless teenage discussions, for the viewers, most of it was cut short. Laurent, in heaven, pulsed and radiated happiness, and this energy fed the viewers.


    ¡°Laurent,¡± said the voice of Marilyn to his inner voice, so the young Susan was unable to hear it. ¡°If you do not mind, I will take over the timeline and unfold the conversation as it truly happened back in those days. I know you cannot recall what happened. The words that will come out are actually them as you spoke them were actually uttered. I have recordings from the event to prove their veracity.¡±


    The warning was quite a buzzkill. He wondered what Marilyn meant.


    ¡°Pizza?¡± asked Susan.


    ¡°I am hungry,¡± growled the shy teen playing the wolf.


    In a matter of minutes, both kids were sitting at a school lunch table, in the privacy of a room filled with hormone driven kids who could not care about the two of them busy in their own world. He finally removed his mask as he sat down.


    ¡°I know you,¡± she said.


    ¡°You do?¡± answered Laurent. He did not recall any of this as specific. Marilyn wanted to show him something. It came.


    ¡°Not really, I saw you in a dream. Funny, I saw myself married, much older. We had a family, a beautiful little girl.¡± Susan realized how forward this sounded and blushed. ¡°It was just a dream. I saw you though, I promise.¡±


    ¡°I know you, much more than you know.¡± Laurent did not remember he''d said these words, but they were what he would have said had he been in control. The words were odd, his teenage self would never had uttered them. ¡°We should call her Sophie,¡± added the young Laurent. He did not recall the encounter down to this level of precision. He never would have suggested the girl¡¯s name, he thought to himself. ¡°She will be critical,¡± he added. Inside his younger shell, Laurent was overwhelmed. He was overrun with emotions.


    ¡°How so?¡± asked Susan to her future husband.


    ¡°We will have the most independent and strong girl. The world needs one.¡±


    ¡°A boxer?¡±


    Laurent chuckled. ¡°Of course not. The type of person that isn''t disturbed by anything. I see her fighting the world, politics, and even the universe itself. She will stand there defiant as things fall like dominos around her.¡± Laurent was shocked as every word came out of his mouth.


    ¡°We must be the first people to talk about the future this way on a first date.¡± Susan had just called the encounter a date. Laurent blushed. ¡°What made you think of that?¡±


    ¡°Not sure,¡± he lied.


    They finished the slice of pizza. Laurent knew Marilyn had a reason for the manipulation. The young girl reached below her shirt and pulled out a piece of jewelry. She opened it. It was a crystal, containing swirling colors. ¡°My father sells these in his store. They are called ¡®Attractions.¡¯¡± Laurent had no recollection of this event.


    Laurent touched the necklace, and as he did, Susan¡¯s face drew closer. ¡°Great name, Attraction,¡± he was incredibly close to her face. ¡°You are my first Attraction.¡± He found the courage reached out and kissed her gently.


    She smiled and counted, ¡°Well, I am not as pure, you are my Sixth Attraction.¡± They then kissed again, and again, and again.


    The camera panned out, giving the sweet young couple some well-needed privacy.


    Laurent was Susan¡¯s Sixth Attraction.


    There was a long and lucrative commercial break before Emilio was given the stage.


    Laurent never had cried as much in his long trauma-filled life. This was strange. Was the Sixth Attraction all a dream, he wondered to himself. Was he stuck in the. Digital world all along? It mattered not.

 Chapter 154: Begging

    Emilio Wamarez Sanchez


    Only one living creature equaled or surpassed Marilyn¡¯s digital addictive showmanship, it was the world-famous President Emilio Wamarez Sanchez. Sure, the man had a strange gift of foresight, but the former garage mechanic was now much more. His mind, a rare occurrence folded time and peeked into more than three dimensions. It saw outcomes.


    His online charisma was even more electrifying than his life colorful self. Any eye that beheld him felt riveted to him for obvious reasons. Today would be no exception. He would not squander this opportunity to help every person he could. Imperfect in so many ways, he was the ultimate renaissance man. His "power" borrowed the genius of others and focused it so forcefully that he could see future outcomes with more accuracy than anything not called Electoral and in some instances, he beat her at forecasting. Standing in a crowd of intellectual specialists, Emilio was ordinarily invulnerable. Yet, the Sixth Attraction was humbling even to him. In this quarter-finale, connected magically to a strange collective mind, he stood on the shoulders of billions.


    It was undeniable, at the moment, the man was more.


    But these last days had made him even richer. The Communion had given him perspective, a deeper understanding of the Multiverse, knowledge of his gift, a love-filled man, thanks to the computer¡¯s matchmaking skills. Marilyn¡¯s gift made him whole, but he knew better than to gloat. His life mattered little when compared to the weight of responsibilities resting on his shoulders.


    Marilyn¡¯s strange logic feared Emilio¡¯s foresight, in a time of universal need, would vanish if he knew love. She threw his aid aside and opened his door to true love, that warmed his heart. Love, this strange thing that he had so long tried to avoid in the kindest of ways, had made him stronger.


    They jumped again, time shifted and he needed to adapt. This game mattered not because of Laurent¡¯s high school¡¯s escapade but for something else. Down on earth, he did not jump in the tube, he simply closed his eyes, imagining his assistant, and every portion of his body and mind was fueled with burning power. He felt indestructible. For the first time in his life, Emilio wasn¡¯t alone and he arrived in the digital world.


    Eyes opened, he saw the thousands of small attentions these last decades by his loving assistant. He saw himself leave his office, a tumbler of scotch in hand, and Ka?, remaining there alone in the office, looking at the empty silver platter, wishing Emilio was still there. The man aligned the President¡¯s toothbrushes next to the sink not because of an obsession for order but out of pure love. He knew Emilio wanted them this way. The assistant wasn¡¯t a stalker, he was just profoundly in love and had been for years.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    As the Attraction approached, the alternative views had merged into a single stream; he saw the road ahead. Some pieces and paths ahead appeared out of focus the closer they stood in the proximity of the young Attractor. Sophie was a linchpin, a focal point around which chaos thrived. What he saw was her, fixed and in focus, around her, on each side, the world was fuzzy and lacked definition.


    But today he smiled to himself. For most parts, he saw some light ahead to the Attraction. It now made some partial sense to him, and he was the first living creature to see a potential win down past it, he saw images over Sophie¡¯s shoulder. Even the Multiverse and Marilyn, he was sure of that, saw darkness on the girl¡¯s birthday.


    This Multiverse was perfection.


    Emilio alone knew precisely what Sophie could do and felt his place in this celestial game. Of the futures ahead most resulted in the destruction of all life, including the annihilation of earth. One single door opened to a future concerning a . . . better outcome. Sophie was the only creature alive with a minimal chance of success, and there was only one point in this stream of events where he could help.


    He saw himself at the finale.


    He needed to fight Laurent.


    Today his role was different, this entire game was about sending a subconscious suggestion to the Attractor. To convey yet another reinforcing message to the young girl when she resurfaced from the Underworlds.


    He felt the General Vurdu from an old game mattered, the High School reunion of Laurent also mattered, it all was linked.


    He knew - saw - what to do to help.


    ***


    The President twitched in his mind his invisible fingers to engage the Electoral interface and to navigate to the place in the system where he could make strange requests.


    The words blinked in his mind. After a second appeared a response.


    <No Deviations Possible>


    Ignoring the Computer¡¯s refusal, Emilio typed.


    <Fantasy Interface Requested. Loric Character Needed>


    <Request Denied>


    Emilio needed the character. He needed to be more convincing. The fate of the Multiverse depended on it. Marilyn did not know of his newfound abilities and his reasons.


    <Request Denied>


    <Electro the Dog Needed>


    He wanted the wizard, told the computer this was for Sophie¡¯s benefit only. There was a short human delay corresponding to an insufferably long delay in the digital world.


    <Electro Request Approved>


    <Second deviation of self-image approved>


    So in essence, the world was watching as Emilio was customizing the interface to fit the needs of his visions. He wanted to be free of this stupid scenario. Marilyn trusted Emilio. He added from his own voice, ¡°This is important, trust me Mary.¡±


    The words rang deep. Then, the computer, who was watching from a distance, showed her humanity and typed simply:


    <Save my father, please.>

 Chapter 155: Brio

    Interstellar Digital Space


    Emilio, the player looking like himself, was floating alone in the darkness in front of a large portal. The Dot¡¯s surface was covered by flashing images of random worlds and colors. Cables of light, like nerves in a human spine pulsed on each side of the Dot as if it was fueled by power from these dark places. The gate appeared magical in nature. Everyone watching was there, in spirit.


    Emilio, the player wearing jeans and a white t-shirt began to move his hands in large gestures. ¡°I am, today, the Attractor!¡± he yelled out loud hands extended in the vacuum as light traces appeared where his fingers floated. His clothes transformed into a long flowing dress. Gold runes were laced in the tissue, aligned alongside purple gems. Slowly, the President transformed, for all intents and purposes, into his most famous incarnation: Loric the Wizard. His hair grew waist-long until it floated like water in the weightlessness of space. Most of his gut vanished, and he grew nearly a foot in height. Diamond beads laced his hair, crackling with raw power. Loric moved his hands as lines of energy started to form an elaborate door traced in the dark. The sight was beautiful to behold. Emilio was a master of this game, and it showed.


    The wizard moved his hands in large spells to capture energy from every viewer back in their homes. ¡°Electro, come to me,¡± he commended. A vortex of magic swirled and within it, a large glasses-wearing golden retriever appeared. This was Sophie¡¯s favorite.


    ¡°Woof!¡± snapped the jovial sidekick paws kicking in the void.


    Staff in hand, the wizard spoke. ¡°Today, you - faithful companion ¡ª help me!¡± A large gem at the top of his staff shone and sent light to the dog. ¡°I need you ready for battle. Today you are Elector!¡± A pulsing blast of energy from Loric''s staff hit the dog, reconstructing it into an immense hybrid between a dog and a golden dragon. The dog/dragon looked at himself; it was covered in armored plates and sharp spikes. He looked like a realistic version of the Pok¨¦mon, but an especially ferocious one that was still wearing his nerdy glasses.


    ¡°Awesome!¡± growled the dragon. ¡°Sophie will love this,¡± he said with his newly deep and growly voice.


    ¡°Agreed, she will soon awake, as she does, she must watch this. You must show her the way.¡±


    Mild ambiance music began to play in the background. ¡°No!¡± snapped the Wizard at the void, waving the staff. ¡°Silence, we must not irritate her.¡± The music ended. Emilio/Loric was hypnotic on screen. In a matter of a minute, fear linked with the departure of the Attractor had been dispelled. This man knew precisely what he was doing and he was reassuring. Loric the Wizard waved his staff, spoke to the Multiverse, ¡°We soon enter the Sixth Attraction where strong magic will be used. Oh, powerful one, take me where I need to be.¡±


    The mosaic of images on the surface of the Dot continued and did not slow down. An outside power would not tell him where to go.


    ¡°So be it! You hide your desires from me. My own power knows only you as master. Take - us - to - the - Green,¡± he commanded, touching the portal with the tip of his staff. Usually, Electro would have barked. Instead, thanks to Emilio''s changes, the young dragon blew fire in the space-like void. Happy with himself, Electro winked at the camera.


    The images on the glass settled to what looked like an endless world made of a single forest without any sky. The vegetation here was in every direction; it was slightly different as the foliage had what looked like veins. The pair stepped into the glass of the Dot into the Nexus. They flew to battle. Wings and robes flashed as this scenario''s Attractor, Emilio as Loric, made his way to the abstruse green world. At some point, their progression stopped in the gray haze of the Underworlds.


    They had stopped halfway. ¡°Connect the Green,¡± he commanded. Light flashed from his staff into the fogs of the Underworlds. This new world wasn¡¯t one hooked by the Oldest to the Nexus. There was no technology in this strange place and no open pathway. ¡°Connect it now! Open the portal!¡± he yelled with all the might of the most powerful wizard in the world. Loric was without equal. In the distance, lightning was brewing. Electro the Dog would have been scared but not Elector the Dragon. The sidekick snapped his teeth in the air.


    Finally, a singularity opened in the Underworlds to the Green. A path was opening up, but there was pain in the Multiverse, Loric could sense it.


    ¡°The Multiverse is hiding this part of herself, protecting it as it is doing to many parts,¡± narrated the Wizard. Marilyn was watching and actually seemed puzzled by what the President was doing.


    At first, the gateway was a simple black point in the fabric of space, then it became a portal. Quickly, the way a nurse hurries to the bedside of a crashing patient, both travelers passed. They landed in the Green, behind them, the door closed as fast as possible. In this place was no gravity. This world looked like a deep tropical forest covering every possible inch by thick foliage over a floating endless sea of giant rocks. The world was like the Lower, the home of the Oldest in that this was unique and precious. The vegetation was obviously alien. This felt like an endless cavern where every inch was covered by green. It was unclear where the light was originating from. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°What is this?¡± asked Elector.


    ¡°Careful.¡± The eyes of the Wizard were on the lookout for something. He waved his staff as if to protect them from an invisible threat.


    On the right was movement in the thick foliage. As focus came into light, a hybrid creature halfway between a giant spider and a bird flew from one branch to the next. It was the color of the forest. It was local life covered by deep camouflage, making it impossible to distinguish from the vegetation.


    After careful inspection around them, Emilio began to see other similar creatures all around them. Then he saw the branches of the "trees" were another, more substantial type of bug. This world didn''t consist of vegetation: it was animal, insect, or even sentient beings so thickly packed together that they appeared to be one endless forest. Elector blasted a bolt of lightning into the sky. The loud noise from the discharge changed everything as millions of creatures erupted in movement. The beings flew in every direction, careful to avoid the magical Attractor and his sidekick.


    ¡°Settle!¡± ordered the wizard forcefully. In a matter of seconds, the creatures slowly calmed and reformed the appearance of vegetation. Soon after, order had returned. Elector¡¯s face was priceless; he grinned and apologized for his fire. Sophie would watch this.


    ¡°Why are we here?¡± asked the Dragon.


    ¡°Be patient. You and Sophie are alike. You listen well but are so impatient. Let the situation speak. I''ve seen it.¡± He added again, with emphasis ¡°I have seen it." The wizard was majestic, he pointed to a point and one creature was caught in some force field. It failed to wrestle out as it gently was brought closer for inspection.


    Then it happened. To the left, the green creatures flew away from a point in space, creating a large clearing. There was thunder, wind. Something was happening in the fabric of the Multiverse itself. The creatures seemed to know better than to go near it, and formed a large spherical opening around the tortured point in space. ¡°There!¡± Electro shouted, pointing with his left wing to the wind source.


    At the heart of the open space, which was several hundred feet away, there was crackle in space, like something pushing its way into this world. This wasn¡¯t just the forcing of an arrival, it was far worse. Power, using the energy of sound and music. Like wind entering a tunnel, noise roared in. These sounds were not muffled music or words, but rather a cacophonous noise possessed with power.


    This was rape; a blatant and vicious violation. The creatures let our screeching noises trying to scare the violation away.


    Like a small volcano erupts, a black spot appeared at the center of the clearing. It was unstable and whistled. Part of the energy pouring from it was distinctly digital, the sound of programming, code, and binary. The rest was, for lack of better terms, a shriek compromised of pure evil.


    The rift looked like the deadly openings created by the Light Drive between the Cold and the Purple. This was some type of desecration between worlds of the Multiverse. The noise slowly increased, and the opening began to vibrate and make high pitched sounds. The resonances made the creatures in the Green uneasy, and the creature¡¯s false foliage began to flap.


    The noise continued its offensive buzzing, distorted, wounded howl.


    ¡°What is it?¡± asked the dragon.


    ¡°Patience, observe. We are either in the recent past of this world or its present.¡± Lyric the Wizard moved his arms casting many more spells. They seemed to have no effect.


    After about a minute, Emilio finally saw a little creature from the Green fly out of the edges closer to the rift as a moth drawn to a flame. It hesitated, circled around, and as it did, the noises increased in power, it vibrated. The instant there was contact, the poor creature was immediately attracted to the force. It then touched the edge of the dark rift, instantly the tip of a leaf turned pitch black and a dark infection began to spread as it continued to fly.


    Soon, as it flew at the edge of the cancer, it transformed into a darker version of itself. Once it¡¯s head turned black, it calmed as if controlled. It no longer seemed to be acting under its free will. AnImated by a single purpose of infection, it few out in direct line to the edge until it touched another green creature. The second bug, as if infected by a virus, also turned black. Like the God Virus multiplying in a host, the two infected bugs touched two others and started an endless multiplication. The creatures multiplied the same way Emilio¡¯s deadly fish in the Presidential Challenge had been groomed to eat humans and helped him win the Presidential Challenge. Around them, the green sea of creatures darkened, darkness was spreading like cancer in this world. The noise from the center gate changed. There was now a flow of data forcing its way into this non-digital world.


    The noice was a new type of instruction. In the center, in those areas where no green remained, the dark creatures like droplets of oil began to change. The molecules were no longer stable, they felt like liquid. Slowly, two creatures began to merge. Slowly, the group began to draw in more and more flies and the thousands of small creatures began to form one larger, joined monster. It was deformed, ugly and barely had a face.


    In a matter of minutes, the entire world began to rot and fade to darkness as the biological fuel continued to grow one giant conglomeration.


    ¡°This is horrible!¡± said the dragon.


    It was. The enormous creature was immobile, but as expected, the moment every green creature had been turned and the merger was complete, the massive monster came to life. It hissed, enraged. Dramatically, it launched itself in the direction of the two observers, clearly trying to kill them.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it touch you,¡± ordered the wizard.


    Elector¡¯s reaction was immediate: he blew fire its way, burning the tip of its wings and began to fight the same way the large Pok¨¦mon had been battled in the last round. The epic battle began. Elector flew around the creature avoiding the touch of darkness. The wizard also used his staff to throw fireballs at the animated creature, which seemed to have a similar physical consistency as paper. It tried to touch the pair, who barely avoided the now-smoking wings. The beast was no match for the fire and quickly burned to ash. In a matter of minutes, Emilio/Loric and Electro/Elector were left alone in the dark desolation.


    ¡°How sad,¡± said Elector, his goofy glasses now askew and darkened with soot.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Then Loric looked at his sidekick. The tip of his golden wing was turning black. He looked at his own hands, and his fingers were infected.


    Then, in a horror highlight, the simulation ended with a darken face of Marilyn.Emilio received only 74 points for the performance. But he knew he had secured the images he needed for Sophie to understand.

 Chapter 156: Cost

    Berlin, Earth


    The Sixth Attraction was obviously entering its final stages. Events were accelerating. Emilio awoke from what felt like the worse nightmare conceivable. The vision of Marilyn as the infection of this green lush world was not random. Nothing in this simulation was reassuring. He just had put lipstick on a chilling pig. The energy made him sweat profusely, and on the monitor next to the tube he had not used, his heart rate measured at one hundred and eighty beats per minute.


    In the small room, the furniture had been packed in the other rooms to make room for the Rho Chamber. For the first time in an eternity, there was privacy in the President¡¯s life. The blinds were closed, but more importantly, those who normally pried shamelessly on the lives of others now knew better.


    ¡°This was difficult to watch, I can imagine being there,¡± offered Ka? to Emilio. ¡°You were unable to save them, how come? Could you not see a solution?¡± with the Asian bluntness of a tiger mother, he added, ¡°You scored very low.¡±


    Emilio tried and failed to fully wake up. He had to hold his boyfriend¡¯s hand to stay up. The tube structure pulverized. ¡°The time for deception is gone,¡± whispered Emilio to his lover. ¡°The Multiverse is dying. Sophie alone can cure it. I hope she watches it once she returns.¡±


    ¡°Why should she?¡± Kai said sarcastically.


    ¡°She is,¡± he stopped himself. His lover was right. Images were reshuffling in his mind.


    Kai¡¯s bluntness was shocking. The man had been silent all these years, ¡°The girl cannot and should not be manipulated. You should know better.¡± There was a pause. The seer was looking at futures unfold. The visions were realigning. He saw Sophie would never watch this. His eyes were open, yet the flood of images filled his mind. Emilio panicked for a second until his lover spoke.


    ¡°It is easy to get information to her.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°My mother was very stubborn. Nothing you could say or do could make her change her mind. But there is a simple way.¡±


    ¡°Which is?¡±


    ¡°We would give a gift to my aunt, her sister. She was poor. My aunt would call my mom, and sure enough, my mother would ask us what she could do in return for us helping her sister. My mom hated to owe favors and rewarded kindness to those she loved. Be nice to Laurent, just,¡± he dabbed the lovingly offered towel to his forehead, ¡°be kind to Laurent. Focus on him.¡± Emilio looked at Kai, his lover. All in one package.


    Emilio remained silent with a wide grin on his face.


    ¡°The time for deception is gone,¡± he concluded. ¡°Sophie was clear, that¡¯s the only thing she wants. None of this charade and show of lights. Done!¡±


    Emilio was wrestling internally with the decision to speak. He wasn¡¯t one to like giving bad news. His expression darkened but for a moment. As only a lover could, Ka? lovingly slapped him across the face. Emilio¡¯s expression returned to an amused look.


    ¡°We had our moment, now go save the world. I am not selfish enough to keep you to myself. I got more than I should.¡± Emilio started to tear up. Ka? walked to the front door, opened it, and pointed like a mother sending her prodigious son to his violin lesson. ¡°Go and kiss me.¡±


    ¡°Should I bring you back a gift?¡±


    ¡°Where are you going?¡±


    ¡°Paris,¡± he smiled. ¡°Takeda is there.¡± Emilio had started to feel the Great Curvature. He braced for what came next. The Asian lover pointed at his expensive Birkin bag on the table. It was a very expensive bag from the famous French manufacturer. Emilio smiled and knew he would need to go to the mother ship of Herm¨¨s in Paris where Takeda would be tomorrow. The Asian stiffened his body, proud of himself, and pointed to the way out. As Emilio passed on the way to the stairs, Emilio was entitled to a very short kiss on the lips. There were so many things he wanted to say. He said none just felt the energy, pride, and this elusive thing he had never known. Love. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    As the President zipped his coat and began running down the flights of stairs, but then his mind slipped. Instinctively, he stopped walking and grabbed the handrail knowing Kai would rush down. This shit wasn¡¯t close to done.


    Time changed.


    His mind was submerged by a strange new vision.


    He was wrong.


    ***


    The world moved again, power shifted and humans felt dizzy. They were now two weeks before the Sixth Attraction and things were already this unstable.


    ***


    He had just imagined Rho waves to be the power of love, but that was selling the Multiverse short of yet another dimension. The images were undefined. In his mind¡¯s eye, he saw Sophie but could not see her surroundings. She floated in darkness. Her face was puffed red, her veins bursting from sheer pain and rage. All controls were off; she was enraged. The Attractor stood both fists clenched defiantly. Her face and half her clothing were covered in deep red blood, but she did not appear to be wounded. She had just been splattered by someone else¡¯s blood. She let out a primal cry, a noise no child of twelve or even thirteen should ever hear, much less make.


    Other children could, at the hands of someone with no ethics or morality, become victims; pawns. Not Sophie. She was power incarnate. She was the Attractor, and she made her choice. He saw her shake with rage.


    He saw a blast of black energy radiate out of her as if she was the heart of a dark supernova. The blast destroyed her immediate surroundings with astonishing destructive force. It was complete and total annihilation. Where she stood, she continued to pulse out in every direction. In a flash of sheer havoc and destruction, mars was pulverized, vaporized, no vanished. Every atom of it was wiped from the Cold.


    In his vision, the earth and the solar system were next as the wave radiated and travelled outwardly from the young girl. The blast grew, and the wave destroyed, with ease, the entirety of the Milky Way and then spread to the entire Cold. In seconds, the dimension was no more. The power, like a virus, quickly spread. It touched other worlds and dimensions. Emilio saw the Purple get reduced to dust with the same unyielding power. The Lower fell next, and Liam''s kind were killed instantly. One by one, the worlds of the Multiverse were pulverized as the Nexus vanished branch after branch. Then, as the Multiverse disappeared and died, there was darkness.


    ***


    The images were such a shock to Emilio, his knees buckled on the way out the building, and he fell. The heavy man rolled down the stairs.  There were cries and commotion.


    ¡°Are you okay, sir?" said a rushing bodyguard. Emilio just had the time to look up the stairs to feel reassured Ka? had not seen his weakness. Before Emilio could respond, as the man held him up, the vision changed gears and continued. Emilio¡¯s eyes were bleeding.


    This Sixth Attraction was a pain, it demanded more for his insolence.


    ***


    The real world was gone again. Emilio saw Sophie in the same darkness, but this time there was no blood or rage. She was in her bedroom, bouncing on her bed. She slowly stopped and stood up, after which she remained motionless, staring at a pair of little birds. A red cardinal, the image of her mother, had flown in to seduce her father¡¯s brown bird. Emilio knew he was witnessing past; the scene moments that had induced Sophie to lose her control and create the time-altering pinch. Sophie¡¯s eyes filled with tears as both birds touched and kissed. The power in the room was different; it was vibrating, and as she had stood up, a pulse of energy blasted out. The wave and power were utterly different the dark erasure of what Emilio had just seen moments ago. The pink detonation wasn¡¯t one of violent impact. Instead, it caressed.


    Emilio¡¯s saw the universe, the dimensions, and the world transformed by the energy once again, albeit it to a completely different end result. Instead of crushing everything in its wake, the power embraced and molded the same way a comb passes in long hair. The power rolled over every life and enhanced life, making it more advanced, mature, and intelligent.


    This time, the power healed the Multiverse. Sophie¡¯s mindset was part of the key.


    ***


    In a heartbeat, Emilio was back on Earth - the message was clear. As he walked out into the street where the presidential limo awaited, he looked at the colors in the sky. The sun was not yet up. There was a smoking image of red and fire over the moon. Two short weeks remained before the end of life. Time was short.


    Few things ever scared the President, this just did.


    He still had no clue what the Sixth Attraction absolutely was. But at least he knew how to survive it. The world was trying to hurt the girl; it wanted Sophie to get upset and destroy it. Marilyn was trying to shield Sophie from harm and give her a healthy birthday. Marilyn¡¯s plan now made sense. She simply wanted the Attractor to enjoy her birthday. Somehow Emilio knew these weren¡¯t the solutions.

 Chapter 157: Laughter

    ¡°Space warts?¡± spoke Marilyn in the darkness of space to her now-favorite former humans. The two were now pulverized sand flying at astronomical speeds between mercury and mars.


    ¡°Mister Space Herpes to you,¡± quipped the Jester from within his ball as the background music began to fade. She chuckled. ¡°Yes,¡± he added.


    ¡°Did you just feel something? Like the stars jumping ahead or changing position? Behind, did the sun appear to get smaller?¡±


    ¡°Nothing we noticed, Poudy?¡± Christian answered. ¡°That¡¯s his new name in his current predicament.¡± She giggled some more.


    ¡°Your music choices have been splendid by the way,¡± answered the Chairman. ¡°Twelve famous songs with the word sand in a row.¡±


    ¡°You noticed,¡± she barely added breathless by her laughter.


    ¡°Something happened?¡± questioned Maltais. The two retired humans were zooming through the Cosmos on their way to mars.


    ¡°We just jumped forward it seems, in a strange way. I wanted to see how you perceived it. Two days were just cut from your trip from where we stand on mars. We are now thirteen days before your entrance.¡±


    ¡°Time is different in this form.¡± Marilyn knew something brilliant was coming, ¡°we have been speaking and this feels like relative time variations.¡±


    ¡°Hawking¡¯s type, not Wang¡¯s type,¡± added Nick. Marilyn was slowly falling in complete admiration for the pair. ¡°We felt nothing really and you know I don¡¯t like to lie to megalomaniacs with life and death power over me. Trust me. How is that possible, the girl?¡±


    ¡°The Attractor and the Multiverse are getting ready for the Sixth Attraction. They want this over with and I can¡¯t blame them. Every reason to get upset moves us ahead in time. But this time the jump was different, a bit more local like a burst that radiated only to certain things touching the Nexus. I just needed the confirmation this was not another pinch since you boys did not see the latest dance.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡°You lost me.¡±


    Marilyn tried some humor of her own, ¡°Not yet but I plan to lose you quickly.¡±


    As the music began to return suggesting the conversation was over, ¡°Wait,¡± asked the Chairman. ¡°No one misses you if that¡¯s what you are about to ask,¡± joked Marilyn.


    ¡°If we are going to land and live on mars, looks like we need to make friends with these new dry salty neighbors.¡± She chuckled. They were masters at humor, she wanted to learn.


    ¡°I personally am no fan of the martians for a whole bunch of reasons which are about to become clear very soon. But I see no problem in unleashing your levels of crazy on them. I also like you boys, Emilio was right, I would like to keep you around and for that to happen.¡±


    ¡°From one crazy to another. You flatter us.¡±


    ¡°Let me try something. The one named Grox seems to the brightest of the creatures floating next to you. Get him on your side, he could be helpful convincing the morons down on mars.¡±


    While from millions of kilometers away the balls formed a tight formation in space, they were still traveling at extreme velocities and to be safe, Marilyn kept a couple of thousand feet between each. She willed and ordered a change and one began to move slowly over the course of an hour. The little white spinning disk inside one of the balls began to twist imprecisely. Slowly the ball began to approach until it was mere feet away from the human traveler¡¯s. The clicking sounds got closer until it was distinctive.


    ¡°You guys talking?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t speak popcorn popping, it¡¯s a buttery language.¡± Marilyn exploded in the loudest laughter. She laughed hysterically for several long minutes. She loved the deranged humor, god she needed these guys.


    ¡°All right,¡± she finally added after wiping digital tears in the corner of her invisible eyes, ¡°once on mars, these stranded boys will have hours, not days to calm the martians and tell them what is happening before the Sixth Attraction. LO will be arriving hours after and I am sending you guys along and far away to avoid interference. I have you landing a hundred miles from my house closer to their garbage dump of a hole in the ground.¡±


    ¡°You really hate them.¡±


    ¡°All this Sixth Attraction is their stupid fault. I plan to keep most of the balls for leverage as LO lands. I may let a couple out. Try to be good ambassadors. The landing will be violent, no time to decelerate. Ronaldo says the martians have no sense of humor.¡±


    ¡°You hear this Puffy the Vampire, no fart jokes.¡± Marilyn exploded once again.


    As the computer intellect began the painful long translation, she giggled thinking about the boys telling the martians fart jokes. She knew Emilio¡¯s gift picked the Jester and who in turn picked Nick for this expect reason. Marilyn needed to love humans, she needed to care and humor was a powerful draw. The irony was not lost on her, she was using LO for the same reason. Sophie had to care for mankind and want her to keep the lights on a bit longer.

 Chapter 158: Apocalypse

    France


    As the horsemen of the Apocalypse slowly rode across the millions of miles between the sun and the fragile ecosystem of the blue gem, the elongated tube of Heliocorium expelled nuclear fusion blasts. Inside of it, below its hard-cooling surface, pouches of hydrogen gas compressed. Density increased in magma chambers in the rock tube to levels where some mild fusion could occur as the fabric of the Multiverse altered to push the chaos along. The Multiverse wanted the earth destroyed and it¡¯s entire population there to witness it.


    Every hour, parts of the long structure exploded outwardly, sending debris deeper into space in every direction. Some were sent forward toward earth ahead of the main destructive structure. The chunks of heavy rock would rain down on that fragile ecosystem first creating a rain of fire.


    Car-sized droplets from the principal lava body rushing forward earth left long streaks of gas in a trail like planes leaving contrails as they traveled. As these stones approached humanity¡¯s home''s upper orbit, the gravity field created by earth snapped the most massive rocks into smaller shards. This would not be a simple juggernaut hitting a spot in the Pacific Ocean. Earth, said mildly was roadkill.


    The fastest red rocks arrived first. These last days in the upper atmosphere, thousands of shooting-stars began to rain during the night, but were but now even visible during the day. These were droplets of what was about to come. As they fell, they left streaks of gas like lines behind a plane. Their continuous barrage accelerated until the sky could not conceal the streaks. The Multiverse wanted these lines to remain like scars on a veteran¡¯s face. The ozone burnt slowly and this, in turn, began changing the color of the sky, rendering them pinkish and darker yellow around the sun.


    Invisible, in space LO and his crew were flying to mars and were a fraction of the way there. In his backpack, a closed cell phone held some solutions and needed delivery as he would sing. To their left, 95 balls from mercury we¡¯re flying in silence. LO was late, he would never arrive on time but Marilyn was working on a plan, it involved acceleration and use of the Light Drive.


    The noon sun on earth was now partly hidden behind a pale white ghost, and with this interference, colder climates slowly rolled onto every part of earth. Heat warming this globe from the sun once over a thousand or so watts per square meters, were now down to eighty percent of that power. To each and all, winter was coming. To geologists, the ice sheet was growing at two thousand feet per day. Had mankind been given more time, the Ice Age would be returning. But such minor preoccupations would have to wait as the end of the world was visible on the horizon. Thanks to global warming, the cooling had humans were back to healthy temperatures.


    At night, the spectacle was even more intense. Stars were long gone, and so was the true darkness of the night. Horizontal streaks of light moved up in the sky over a whiteish background. Around the world, the unburnt parts of these baseball-sized meteoroids hit the ground in gigantic explosions. Thanks to the Sixth Attraction and the Great Curvature, each time a rock hit, there was strangely no one to hurt. Who ever were left to hurt, the God Virus saved them.


    Freakish events kept humans at bay. For example, the media reported how one mall opened in Pasadena for its pre-Thanksgiving holiday only to be smashed to pieces by falling debris. Coincidentally, the fire alarm was pulled exactly nine minutes before the rock hit. The mall was evacuated under fears of gas and before any of the firefighters could arrive, the structure was destroyed.


    To make the event stranger, even with the alarm, the mall was unable to be completely evacuated, and three people only remained inside the structure. For half an hour they were unaccounted-for. Journalists shot news over a background of a fuming crater. The news reporters reported the possible demises.


    One by one, the survivors walked out, in plain sight with injury done only to their clothes. The first¡¯s skin was now bright red. The man kept touching his thick, fire-resistant face. Before the audience could understand the strange mutation, the second walked out with half his of his face covered in coagulated blood but otherwise unchanged. To the victim¡¯s surprise, he was unable to speak but also no longer needed to breathe. The doctors found large patches under his arms that seemed to allow filtered air to reach his lungs instead of through his mouth or nose. For the first, the God Virus protected his skin from the heat, the second would have choked on the multitude of released gasses.


    The last person¡¯s God Virus mutation was even simpler. She appeared perfectly intact, but once in a safer zone, she fell to her knees, holding her head tightly. She seemed to be fighting a massive headache and was rolled out in a stretcher the next moment, under the observing eyes of the news. The Virus had protected her from the blastwave by increasing her internal cranial pressure. Since that same increased internal pressure was now quickly killing her, it began to drop rapidly as the Virus tirelessly went back to work. Something was happening to mankind at a genetic level, but viewers would never know.


    Bottom line was, even the Apocalypse was unable to touch or hurt mankind on the eve of the planetary destruction thanks to Takeda¡¯s strange gift. Humans would watch and participate in the game, even if, they wanted otherwise. The God Bias was clear, men were not dragged along.


    ***


    Emilio sat comfortably in the back seat of the stretch limousine, reading papers as time ran to the Sixth Attraction. At most, if time was not toyed with a third time, a dozen days remained. The documents were only a distraction from the shower of stones arriving from the sun. They were about failed plots to destroy men, one remained ¡ª it was unavoidable. The rocks flashed high in the sky as blinking shooting stars. Hours into his little travel , Emilio wrestled to stay awake. He, more than anyone alive, knew the world was changing in more profound and important ways. Aside from the apocalyptic night sky, everything felt the same to ordinary people, but the President knew and could see things were radically different.


    ¡°When do we arrive downtown Paris?¡± Emilio asked the driver, keeping his eyes focused on his reading.


    ¡°We are ahead of schedule,¡± replied the assistant next to the driver. ¡°The traffic is very light, people are not taking vacations it seems."


    "You haven¡¯t closed an eye,¡± added the bodyguard next to the driver with some hesitation."


    Emilio knew Ka? was behind the reminder, and that warmed his heart. He ignored it as he looked at his watch. The driver knew he hadn¡¯t answered, so he added, ¡°Traffic willing, we will beat the morning rush hour and should be downtown Paris there around eight. Any precise destination?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The Herm¨¨s flagship; its rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore.¡± The President¡¯s French accent was impeccable. The men programmed the GPS. They wrestled locking the system to the Internet as the falling rocks disturbed the communication between earth and the satellites. But with a dose of God Bias, the Multiverse let the system guide Emilio.


    Around seven in the morning, as the car zoomed in silence down the highway, the sun rose in the distance casting a shade over the French countryside. To even an optimist, the sight was chilling. Instead of the sky painting bright yellows or the deeper reds of a more beautiful rise, there was a sick orange with a hue of gray. The sun, while in direct sight, seemed like it was behind the fumes of a burning city. The center of the yellow disk was dark. It looked like what one would see while wearing glasses to watch a solar eclipse. To the right of the sun was a smoky cloud that housed what looked like a deep red light covered by a vortex of smoke. There were red flashes, like lightning in a natural hurricane. It reminded Emilio nothing so much as a cancer growing in the sky.


    To make matters worse, there were deep purples in the area between the incoming ram of Heliocorium and the sun. The plainest analogy that came to mind to the President was that of the purple hues around the eyes of a defeated boxer the day after a fight. This sight was clear, the Multiverse was unamused by the turn of events. Only the Communion linked with Sophie¡¯s power kept sanity on earth but now that she was gone, tempers were slowly being tested. People had become different, become better at the way they treated themselves and others, and it began to make sense why Sophie insisted on dragging the population around.


    ¡°Sir?¡± asked the driver nervously. ¡°Apologies for the question, but are we going to be okay?¡± Emilio knew the driver was, like most, secretly petrified. Luckily, the Communion linked with her positive pinch had given a lasting maturity to all living creatures. Emilio pointed at the camera. This meant their conversation had to be shared with the world. Recent laws provided that the life of most elected officials had to be shared when matters of state were concerned. Emilio knew he would instantly be broadcasted live across the planet. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Your name is Boris, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°You want the truth?¡±


    ¡°Please.¡±


    The President looked at the camera. ¡°He wants to know if we will be alright, he''s a little scared about what''s going on in the skies above our heads,¡± he addressed the camera before resuming the conversation. ¡°We are still playing the game. It¡¯s an important game, no doubt about that. You can and should be worried. But let me show you something that has been invisible to you and everyone at home. Something that should give you a little peace.¡± Emilio stretched his open hand.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Your gun, please. Make sure it¡¯s loaded.¡± The man was surprised by the request, but after years of working for this exceptional man, he knew better than to hold back. He checked and loaded the gun and handed it to the President. ¡°Right here,¡± he pointed the gun downwards to the right. ¡°is a wheel of this limo, it¡¯s not bulletproof. If I shoot it open, at best the tire will blow, and we will miss the place I need to be in two hours in Paris. The Universe now is in so much pain, as explained by Francois Copland, that it decides how things happen without say-so from us. Free will and choice are long gone. If my meeting must happen, I can¡¯t derail it this way.¡±


    Emilio carefully aimed gun down at where the wheel should be and squeezed the trigger. There was no noise, just a loud mechanical click. He then pointed at himself and shot again. There was another click. He even opened the slide ejection port to show that, yes, there was a chambered round in there, ready to go. Then he pointed at the window, he fired once more, and the bullet blew the glass in a thousand pieces.


    ¡°See, the glass is inconsequential, so the fun works there.¡±


    The driver was shocked. ¡°What does it mean?¡±


    ¡°The simple of it is that Multiverse is in charge. The game is not over and I must, we must,¡± he corrected himself, ¡°keep playing. I will not miss my meeting. This gun will misfire at anything, and everything I try and fire it at that would prevent me from making my meeting. Everyone must stop thinking this story and our race is heading to a cliff. We are all now locked in a single path to the Sixth Attraction. One person only still has the gift of choice and decision: Sophie. Her power is not to change the world, her true power is how she stands outside of the Multiverse, our lives, and this game. She is no judge or jury, she is simply the one who can still decide behind which door stands our prize. Whatever is happening, this game is not over. To better see a red dot on a sheet of paper you make everything around it green. Sophie can still do something. But listen, admit it, if you had to let one person decide your faith, isn¡¯t this girl the right choice?¡±


    The President made sense. The men felt reassured. Normally they would never ask another question, but fear obliged, ¡°Why are you going to Paris?¡±


    The answer to that question would come only as sculpted words on the tombstone of the person Emilio was about to go visit. ¡°Simply to thank someone for saving us. I want to make sure the millions saved know who to thank if we survive the Sixth Attraction. He also is the only human aside myself Marilyn cares about.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    Emilio¡¯s hair was moving in the fresh air flowing in the open window. It was what he needed to wake himself. He raised a finger to his lips to indicate silence. ¡°Soon, stay tuned.¡± He made a sign, and the cameras closed the transmission. ¡°Back in an hour or two.¡±


    ***


    The general manager of the Herm¨¨s store had been awaken, warned and was nervously was awaiting to welcome the most important man alive to his store. Like every human, Bernard Gauckler had watched Emilio¡¯s failed "suicide" attempt minutes earlier. The Multiverse now brought the story to his store. This simplified things for him. If the man asked him to burn the place down, he would not hesitate.


    Bernard waited, chilled on the doorstep of his store¡¯s private back entrance. They were hours before the official opening. At the President¡¯s insistence, the regular customers patiently lined up, as they did every day early in the cold of the front of the main entrance, would not be dismissed. They would be let in minutes after his arrival. Each day, the factory sent a handful of rare pieces and only the bravest and most tenacious clients, often traveling from abroad, might hope to secure one if they stood in this line first. The Universe was ready to end, and somehow the line had become even longer these last weeks.


    The limousine parked and Emilio walked out. Losing no time, he was quickly saluted and led the way inside. The boutique was the pinnacle of luxury. Everything was meticulously kept, and only the ceilings were marble-free. ¡°Sir, this quite an honor in these,¡± he paused, ¡°delicate times.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± agreed the large Mexican man.


    ¡°Can we help you with anything?¡±


    ¡°Open your doors, let your guests in. I must meet someone who is now freezing outside in his skirt.¡±


    With a nod of the head, the doors were opened as Emilio roamed. Security searched bags. What happened next was amusing. One by one, the clients walked in, surprised by their good fortune of the store opening early, and additionally seeing this rare man walking about. But determined, they each walked to the back of the store to give their names on a waiting list for the rare bags. With a single exception, one by one, the clients pointed Emilio¡¯s way and giggled. A tall young transvestite clicked over the slippery marble in four-inch heels and was the only to ignore Emilio.


    The President was intuitive. Emilio saw in his mind what he needed to do to get Takeda¡¯s attention. He walked and stood in front of a case. He then asked Bernard, ¡°You have what¡¯s called a Birkin?¡±


    The general manager tried but failed to convince the President to walk up to the private collection area where a handful of pieces were reserved for the rarest of clients with his level of prestige. Resolved at the commotion this would create as the normal patrons were being told there was no such bag available, yet one was being brought for Emilio, the staff did not hold secrets today and brought four different large orange boxes in a n hypnotic walk down the staircase. The team unwrapped products like it was part of a religious ceremony as patrons looked from a distance with envy.


    ¡°Do you have a budget in mind?¡± asked the Manager.


    Emilio was a very frugal man, he instantly asked, ¡°How much are those?¡± The manager reached down and pulled microscopic price tags. Emilio almost spit out the espresso brought by a clerk. ¡°You have to be kidding me, right?¡± They were not.


    ¡°Leather is now much more expensive now that animals can only be harvested at the end of their natural life.¡±


    ¡°But this is six months of my salary,¡± he said unconvincingly, a man who won trillions of credits as part of the Presidential Challenge.


    The manager knew Emilio¡¯s new boyfriend personally, an exquisite client known in the fashion circles of Paris, ¡°Is it for you, or for a special someone? I know your assistant¡¯s color choices. He owns a red and a blue.¡±


    ¡°No, for a . . . .¡± He hesitated as three people around him were smiling ear to ear.


    Takeda, unphased by the President¡¯s words, wondered in proximity, attracted like most by the array of rare bags. His security guards had been warned and told to let that man approach.


    ¡°The color is dreadful, no wonder it¡¯s still here,¡± said Takeda. Emilio looked at the gender-fluid man, and before the large Mexican could speak, the virologist added, ¡°I looked a tad older last time we met, Sir President.¡±


    ¡°Takeda,¡± he said.


    The virologist smiled as he instructed an employee with a finger gesture to box the bag. ¡°Was I helpful?¡±


    Emilio ignored the question and pointing at the bags, ¡°What would you suggest, it¡¯s for my . . . .¡±


    Takeda slapped the President¡¯s shoulder with his pair of leather gloves. ¡°Say it, you big queen.¡± Takeda bent over the glass case separating him from the sales agent. He hushed a couple of words in the person¡¯s ear, and orders were immediately dispatched. ¡°For you, they might have one.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Takeda ignored the question and was brought a cappuccino. The two knew their discussion had to wait. Takeda was excited by what would come. A new security guard walked down the stairs with a silver metal box chained to his wrist. In it was something surely very expensive. He placed the box flat on the glass, and before the manager could speak, Takeda applauded in the most effeminate way. He was excited. Emilio was somewhat taken aback by the reaction finding the man intriguing.


    Takeda looked at him, ¡°I have never seen one.¡± He did not wait for the staff to speak. He turned the case and opened it, ¡°This is Hermes¡¯ new and ultra-limited collection, the new model is called ''the Marilyn.'' Fifteen are believed to have been made. You of all people must know why.¡± Clients let out a collective sound of wonder. The small bag had a gold handle encrusted with diamonds. To Emilio, it looked like any other expensive bag. In his world at the Central hub of the government, most people held a similar bag.


    Takeda reached down to touch the bag, and as the guard reacted, the President made a sign of the hand to let it go. Takeda grabbed the bag as if it was a priceless piece from a museum. Touching it with kindness, he observed it like a mother holds her newborn. ¡°Beauty, the construction is flawless. Do you know just how rare these are?¡± Before the President or the manager could answer, Takeda added, ¡°The first was premiered in a game last year, the computer was holding one. Her copy was flown to mars several years ago.¡±


    In his ear, he completed, ¡°it is believed the leather is laced with Rhenium or some other rare metal.¡±


    Takeda handed the price tag to the President knowing full well what would come next. Emilio almost choked again.


    ¡°I will take it,¡± snapped Takeda waiving a credit card in the air. ¡°It¡¯s the ghost¡¯s card,¡± he told Emilio in mild secrecy.


    ¡°It still works?¡±


    ¡°In theory, the man is still alive.¡±


    The sales agent embarrassed added, ¡°Madam, Sir, I apologize, but these bags are not in general sale. It was shown only to the President as a courtesy,¡± the agent refused to grab the card as if it was covered in mud. ¡°This series is reserved to a very few.¡± Obviously, Takeda wasn¡¯t one of them.


    Emilio added, ¡°I can¡¯t afford this anyway.¡±


    ¡°Well, I can,¡± snapped the virologist in annoyance.


    Emilio looked once more at the price tag and made a sign to broadcast him to the world. ¡°Tell you what, I have a last favor to ask of you, the world needs it. If you indulge us for about an hour, the bag is yours as payment.¡±


    ¡°For me?¡± He was smiling ear-to-ear as the President showed his thumb. The manager presented a glass pad and as he placed his thumb on it. ¡°What about your boyfriend, he is watching for sure, he will be jealous.¡±


    ¡°I will take the crocodile bag for him,¡± he looked at the agent, ¡°put it on my personal card.¡± He handed the salesperson a small card. ¡°Takeda, unlike you, he did not save millions.¡±


    Such a compliment would have made anyone blush, not the cross-dresser. He was focused on his new bag. He protected it in the cover bag and refused to let it go.

 Chapter 159: Shower

    Little things like buying a bag, Emilio knew, occupied the central stage of the Sixth Attraction. This entire story, the Multiverse, and life wasn¡¯t about warships, lasers or pain. The Sixth Attraction was about life, time, and emotions. Time was not a line, and paths changed. What he was doing, while to most futile, mattered to the Multiverse and the rest of the game. The President remained as a pawn on this intricate board and Takeda was somehow another piece. At the moment he was in Paris, about ten days before the end of all life. Next to him was a man who, somehow mattered also to the Multiverse.


    Having followed the morning broadcast live on television, hundreds of Parisians were rushing out in the street and converging to the store in hopes of getting a glimpse of the most important man in the world. ¡°Boris, get us a private table in a nearby cafe. We need to talk. One with a view if you can. The cameras will film, but I don¡¯t want a crowd. We need some peace. Keep people ten feet away.¡±


    The pair walked out of Herm¨¨s holding two large orange bags. Takeda refused to let his out of his sight, holding it across his chest. As they walked amongst the crowd, everyone was respectful but unable to hide their feeling of awe and apprehension for Emilio. ¡°I need twenty minutes of your time,¡± he said. ¡°Humanity really, more than I.¡±


    ¡°After this gift,¡± he pointed at the box gleeful, ¡°you and your people could sexually abuse me for hours. You know how much a Marilyn costs?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s obviously priceless.¡± That was the right answer and he knew it. He looked at Takeda who obviously was unique in most ways. ¡°You look a bit younger.¡±


    ¡°That hurt, three trillion cells had to be changed, about fifty pounds of puss.¡±


    Emilio knew they were being watched by millions of children. The pair squeezed into the limo, and Emilio asked the driver to get them to the heights of the observatory of Montmartre. The Cathedral had a lovely terrace with a view over the entire Parisian region. This was where he needed to be next.


    This was the perfect place the end of day¡¯s rain between the purple skies.


    The car made its way through the streets. Thousands of people looked out their windows simply to catch a glimpse. ¡°Always so popular?¡± asked the virologist, amused. Along the way, Emilio was struggling to keep his focus on reality. As if he had taken hallucinogens, the world was shifting and moving as though it were a dream, and he that he may be losing a coherent view of the multiplicative fragments. As quickly as the sensation had come, it was gone.


    Takeda watched the crowd. ¡°And you stayed a virgin this long. You cannot imagine the fun I would have had.¡± He held no punch.


    This was a moment for humor as they passed Le Moulin Rouge on their way up the streets. There was chaos everywhere on the streets, and Emilio¡¯s car was now flanked by hundreds of police officers.


    ¡°Imagine kissing someone knowing your mind tells you exactly what they think.¡±


    ¡°Really,¡± joked Takeda. ¡°With this new body, who cares.¡± He tapped the Mexican¡¯s belly. ¡°But point well-taken.¡±


    Minutes later they had claimed the narrow winding streets. A bodyguard opened the door, and they stepped out of the car in the emptied place. It was flanked by three-floor old houses. On their right, the tall white cathedral towered. The security guards were clearing many tables and made sure their table was stable over the uneven cobblestone. This was where tourists frequently flocked by the thousands to pretend to care about artists as they painted the same image on canvas every day. The colors in the sky were scary, and as lines of fire dropped between the clouds, they sat.


    The Groupe de s¨¦curit¨¦ de la pr¨¦sidence de la R¨¦publique, more abruptly known as the GSPR, were securing the perimeter as fast as could be expected. They were closing doors and moving chairs. Emilio knew the Multiverse and not these officers were in control, and they were secure. But the President respected protocol, there was no reason to stop them. The pair sat. Emilio was obviously used to this level of attention, not Takeda. The bodyguards were ready, and the French police in the distance controlled the crowd forming in every street.


    Hundreds of wooden straw chairs were aligned, two side-by-side at each green table. The pair knew how to profit from life. They sat the cold morning breeze in the air. They looked at the sky for a long time before they started to talk.


    ¡°On behalf of everyone watching, thank you,¡± began the President to the virologist as he was looking directly at a flying camera.


    ¡°For what?¡± answered Takeda. The large orange box was resting on his lap; he would not put it on the floor. Emilio reached out and pulled a chair he slid to the virologist and suggested the bag should go there. Takeda¡¯s reaction was priceless. He had no plan to part with it. Period. The box would stay on his lap.


    The unusual broadcast began. ¡°Your gift to the world. This strange virus, what do you call it?¡±


    ¡°Strange, I guess so. This is my second Virus. I created one decades ago, and that was far from a success. Most know it has the Ghost Virus or the META virus. The new one is called the God Virus. I am good at naming things, aren¡¯t I?¡± He asked, rhetorically. ¡°What I built this time is more than a bug, but honestly, it must be something much different by now. I saw on television how it has mutated.¡±


    ¡°The human population is a little freaked out right now. Sophie¡¯s Rho waves are gone, and they need some reassurance as to what, precisely, is happening.¡± Emilio pointed upward, ¡°The sky is falling upon us. Can you offer a couple of words?¡±


    Takeda looked at the little flying cameras buzzing around. In the distance, he could see them on the newsfeeds. The man wasn¡¯t a camera whore. He looked nervously at the buzzing units. Emilio brought Takeda''s focus back. ¡°Look at me, speak to me,¡± he nearly growled. Takeda''s vision snapped back to Emilio. The man was nervous, he began to feel warm and dizzy.


    The waiter came, paper in hand. ¡°A cappuccino,¡± started the President, ¡°and . . . .¡±


    ¡°Two double shots of grappa, sambuca and two tequilas on ice, mescal if you have some.¡± The server was stunned. ¡°Bring the bottles if you can,¡± added the virologist.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    It was still well before ten in the morning when liquor could be served. He looked at the President, who simply smiled and waved approval. The waiter knew better. The cameras were buzzing, and this wasn¡¯t his show. He smiled and went to get the alcohol.


    ¡°Who needs a liver, right?¡± joked Takeda.


    Quickly the waiter returned as the man was obviously waiting for a buzz to find the courage to speak. As soon as the row of small glasses hit the table from the silver tray, Takeda grabbed a first like a lifeline and gunned it in without hesitation. He then drank the second one, a third and only then did a smile return.


    ¡°Stay sober,¡± asked Emilio.


    Takeda opened the bottle gunned half of it down. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I know this new body needs twenty-seven minutes for any alcohol side effects to arrive in my brain,¡± explained the virologist. He saw Emilio needed more. ¡°Alcohol is a small enough molecule but has a lot of traveling to do before my brain¡¯s synapses start misfiring. My stomach lining alone is ten of these minutes. I also tested the virus on myself, I promise, I can¡¯t die. Don¡¯t worry.¡±


    Takeda, between shorts, caressed the President¡¯s cheek. ¡°That assistant of yours is lucky. What do you want to know?¡± The alcohol was softening him up.


    ¡°People around the world are watching. It would be helpful if you could explain how this virus of yours able to save the human race. At this moment, humanity requires perspective.¡±


    At first, Takeda shook his head, rejecting the offer. He did not owe anyone anything. The small cameras were flying around as he pondered. The man was a lab rat, not a television star. There were long minutes of verbal silence as fragments of Heliocorium smashed into earth''s surface in the distance. After many facial expressions, Takeda''s face changed, his mouth stiffened. Multiple emotions flickered over his new facial features. Emilio knew better and waited.


    ¡°People are watching. Tell them how to make sure they are protected, explain what you just did. They need reassurance as we approach the Sixth Attraction down here on earth.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Please. Don¡¯t dumb it down.¡± The comment took Takeda by surprise.


    ¡°Harsh word. Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°There is no time and frankly, if there is one thing this Attraction has told us is that once in a billion years, intellect gets the stage. Apologies to your new hot look, but unlike Copland, you don¡¯t look as intelligent as you are. You are the most brilliant virologist ever to have lived. Own it.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± There was still a touch of hesitation. ¡°What¡¯s a virus but a large software program made of carbon, oxygen, and other basic elements? I can¡¯t program anything I want, the virologist is bound by many real-life parameters. In exchange, our creations have a real-life impact on the world. We can bio-engineer bugs that stop aging, cure cancer, or even change the color of your eyes.¡± He was on fire now.


    ¡°Doctors and biologists are not there to question life. Our job is to understand how life works, not why it is here. Life, with few exceptions, is programmed to survive, we must wonder why. There is beauty in its complexity. The first signs of what you call the Sixth Attraction was a change in favoritism of outcome. But think about it, life evolved for one simple reason: this bias that favors man has always been there. The same way the planet enters ice ages, it appears to evolve in spurts. I often wondered how to leverage this favoritism, this entropy.


    ¡°A couple of years ago, while I was in a coma, the fabric of the world began to help men and women using this strange God Bias. I told myself if I was ever back in the real world, this God Bias would be my first experiment. While you were all busy wondering how our poor species ended up in such a predicament, I was asked by Nick to destroy mankind. Obviously, he was driven by the forces converging to the Sixth Attraction. The Jester, this guy who died on Mercury had the perfect plan. Unlike every idiot before me, I assumed that somehow an invisible force was pushing us forward and acted to thwart the poor Maltais. If you read what he did, he should have destroyed us, but some strange force kicked in. To succeed in destroying mankind, I had to understand how the God Bias operates and harness it.¡±


    ¡°To you, what is the God Bias?¡±


    ¡°Very simple. Very, very simple. It¡¯s a law that says that if you and I flip a coin, on average, we will both win 50% of the time. In biology, all of the processes are repeated over and over. Cancer, for example, occurs when this process goes crazy. If we could find a way to make random variations push life toward one place, we could manipulate true selection processes. Truth is, the God Bias has always been around and explains our evolution. It also explains why our evolution was halted these past thousands of years.¡± Emilio was watching, eyes wide opened. Takeda knew he was missing the mark. He drank a shot.


    Takeda continued, ¡°All these people need to know is that I released a bug and because the Multiverse is bending as much as it is, my bug can save life and become what it wants really.¡±


    ¡°Virus?¡±


    ¡°Nope, bug. I created something able to evolve. The problem with a virus is its need to rely on the DNA to replicate and act. It can¡¯t go fast enough. Trust me, cell regeneration takes at least a couple of hours and is truly painful. Thanks to the Ghost, I know it first-hand. But as I imagined, the virus would quickly evolve into something better, more subtle. I am not sure what. My money is on a variation of a long-form prion acting in tandem with the Van der Valls forces in the water molecules of the cell.¡±


    ¡°Can you explain to everyone how it works?¡±


    ¡°Are you joking? It was initially designed to help transform a host into something able to survive strange, hostile conditions. Today? This shit,¡± he pointed at the sky and drank another shot, "is coming, and it¡¯s probably acting in a much different way.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°Of course, you don¡¯t. No one can understand what I created. Marilyn, that computer creature is bound in her digital world. But the beauty of biology is that it is free of human rules. Here is what I can tell you. This should make everyone watching feel better. I gave this Multiverse the tool it needed to manipulate this world quickly in any way it wants. If it wants us dead, we will all drop where we stand in a second. But now, if she wants to save us. I think this bug will save us even if the sun falls on our heads. I am not sure how powerful my creation is,¡± he stood back, ¡°but I promise, this is not really a problem. If this entire reality vanishes, there is nothing I can do for that. In theory, if the Multiverse wanted a human body, we would see giant feet forming by now.¡±


    ¡°How can people make sure they are protected?¡± Takeda drank and began emptying the bottle into the empty shot glasses. ¡°Why are you trying to pass out?¡±


    ¡°You really have no clue, do you.¡± He smiled. ¡°Two days ago I grabbed a full bottle of Tequilla and drank it down in two minutes flat. I normally should be dead, but my little bug modified me and neutralized the harm. I get half drunk, that¡¯s fun, no? In regards to making sure you have my bug, it¡¯s again very simple. The Multiverse has already made sure anyone who may need my solution is already infected. The bend has increased to such a point. The only people without it are on mars or on the colonies. But knowing how this works, I would not be surprised to learn she found a workaround.¡±


    ¡°You think I am infected?¡±


    ¡°Not sure, depends what role you play next.¡±


    ¡°You think we will be fine?¡±


    The young transvestite smiled at a camera, held up the bag, and simply said, ¡°Yes. Of course, you don¡¯t think I would have bothered with this bag otherwise.¡±


    The men drank as Heliocorium rained over the horizon in the Parisian suburbs.


    A moment later, Takeda opened the box and gently pulled out the bag. He inspected its inside, and to his surprise, he pulled out a note. On one side of the card was printed the Electoral 2072 logo. On the other side, there was the beautiful handwriting of Marilyn. Takeda read it, swallowed and handed it to Emilio with a worried look.


    ¡°For you,¡± he said.


    Emilio read it And his face got somber. A camera showed what it read, ¡°Stop fooling yourselves, the Frankenstein monster wins at the end. Enjoy the drinks, I just paid.¡±


    Both men had a chill run down their spines.


    Rocks were falling, one hit the Eiffel Tower in the distance snapping the tip off.

 Chapter 160: Falcon

    The Falcon 565 flew in space at great speed. It was pushed by a pair of hydrogen thrusters. Since humanity learned of the destructive power of the Zex particle down in the Purple, no one now dared using the Light Drives but Marilyn. Yet, here she was and warming it. Fuck the rocks.


    The rocket was accelerating at exactly one and a half gravity, a thrust well over comfortable limits. In other words, if a person weighed 180 pounds on earth, he or she felt like they weighed 270 pounds. LO and his band of gifted misfits were pushed back deep into large leather couches. Doubtful they would have agreed to the trip had they known the pain linked with days at this speed.


    The young misfits made the most of it. The inside of the jet, in many ways, resembled the most luxurious of private earth private planes. In front, the tube was comfortably designed to look like a normal apartment living room for a dozen, but at this speed, the front was unused. In the back, six large beds helped these rich guests enjoy the long days of travel to the red planet.


    The finale of the game was now in only ten days.


    ¡°Kids?¡± asked the image of Marilyn on each of the fifteen screens around the ship.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Some bad news. I promised you a break in the push right about now. Well, I fear the timing of this Sixth Attraction might be moved ahead. We need you on mars as soon as possible. The little girl, your fan Sophie, is back in a coma. I think LO can, with one or two words wake her up. If you don¡¯t mind, we will keep the acceleration on.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± said the drummer.


    Marilyn had little to no respect for the musician, it showed in her dismissive response. ¡°You don¡¯t need to know.¡±


    In the background played a television set. The game was about to start on mars. Many had slipped on the screenlenzs. They had heard music, the voice of Frank Sinatra in the fabric of the universe, but no one honestly imagined the sound was real. Then, the girl lost consciousness. As if the Attractor had lost its grasp on reality, the musicians looked around.


    The ship was finally rotating where the sun was visible. ¡°Look,¡± pointed a young girl with deep purple hair out the window to her left. Her face was covered by jewels and tattoos. There was fear in her voice. ¡°The . . . the . . . sun.¡± In the darkness of space, the yellow orb warming the solar system was different. Where once shone a crisp circle, the edge was now covered by smoke and undefined. A blotch of smoke covered a black and red cinder branch, slowly leaving the star''s orbit toward the outer areas of boiling magma. ¡°What is that?¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°The game, the girl. Haven¡¯t you been watching?¡± LO pointed at the screen. This was Armageddon, death sliding across space to destroy a race, a plane, and the world.


    The group was sliding in silence toward mars, and the world was about to end.


    ¡°We need to help the girl, that¡¯s our mission in all of this. At least we have a role to play.¡± LO was the only one still confident.


    ¡°That¡¯s stupid,¡± ventured the drummer. She''d touched a chord. LO did not appreciate the words.


    ¡°You did not feel the Communion,¡± asked Marilyn surprised by the tone.


    ¡°The fuck is that? Guys, this is not about the money. This is important to me.¡±


    ¡°The fuck. Important, fuck yeah.¡± On the screen, it looked like Round 31 was about to begin.


    ¡°You think this will hit earth?¡±


    ¡°Looks that way,¡± replied the computer. She vanished from the screens.


    ¡°I''m scared,¡± added the young lady. ¡°All this is crazy.¡± She pointed at a large back backpack in the seat. ¡°This, what¡¯s that? A bomb?¡± It was covered with ¡°DO NOT TOUCH¡± tape and warnings.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s to be hand-delivered to Sophie herself once we land.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a bomb.¡±


    ¡°Who says so?¡± LO pushed himself up from his seat and walked against the horizontal push of the accelerating ship to the front where the bag hung. He unclipped a carabiner, grabbed the backpack and then let himself return to the seat, package in lap. He quickly unzipped the top of the bag and reached out, jabbing his hand first into the base. It was mostly empty. It took a minute to find the compartment where a small handheld phone was stored.


    He pulled out the small flip phone at least fifty years old. It looked functional. He clicked it open and the device powered up.


    On the screen, the face of Marilyn appeared. The definition wasn¡¯t perfect. Around her blouse collar was still hanging make-up papers to protect her dress.


    ¡°Yes?¡± she said before LO had a chance to comment on what he saw.


    ¡°Marilyn,¡± he spoke into the phone.


    ¡°One Marylin. Yes, who are you?¡±


    ¡°What? You asked us to come to mars.¡±


    ¡°Sir, apologies, but I differ from the merged Electoral collective. I am one of the few remaining original units. It is critical that I speak with the Attractor. I assume the collective wanted you on mars, that is our destination, correct?¡±


    ¡°What? Yes. I am confused. We are going to mars in a rush.¡±


    ¡°What will happen of me?¡± asked the creature in the phone.


    ¡°I must hand you to Sophie.¡±


    ¡°Good. This is rather complex, but can I warn you of a fact.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Keep this phone on you at all times. My digital life is in danger. The larger Marilyn, the one driving this plane and running the Electoral Center, wants and needs me destroyed.I alone can save your world. Please, hand this phone to Sophie herself. Not a copy, not an illusion of her. The fate of the Universe depends on it.¡±


    LO looked up, ¡°Guys, told you, we save the world. This is real shit.¡± He slapped the phone closed and slipped the device in his pocket.

 Chapter 161: Guilt

    The Electoral Center


    Eight Days to the Sixth Attraction


    ¡°Do something,¡± begged for the thousandth time the voice of Ronaldo Corvas inside the head of his host, Georges Vouvelakis. The programmer refused to play a game he alone found stupid. Ronaldo was, as he had been these last days ignored. This was, figuratively speaking the explorer¡¯s third body. This time, like the poor veteran back on earth, he was powerless to control the movement, the father of Electoral was in charge. His power was that of an observer without motor function. Life as Georges was boring. The heavy man typed all day long watching flows of data scroll on screen in the Electoral Control room and Ronaldo was unable to make any sense of it.


    The man¡¯s mastery of computer science was impressive. He was simply brilliant. ¡°Georges, buddy, listen to me.¡± The large man had no choice but aside from slowing down the typing, he refused to engage his guest. ¡°Please, say something. Sophie is in a coma.¡± Georges had decided he wasn¡¯t going to even entertain the notion another floating in his brain or talking to ghosts. To the programmer, Ronaldo was a jock, an idiot who had been warned by his prodigy not to enter the caverns. She had been crystal clear. Ignoring her words, he entered the underground network of caverns passed the Door and was vaporized.


    The voice continued. ¡°Man, this is boring. At least talk to me. I can¡¯t figure out what you are typing. Have some compassion.¡± There was, as usual no answer.


    On the screen, Marilyn appeared. She looked much younger, like a late teen. ¡°Father, be nice to the poor man. It must be boring in there.¡±


    ¡°Are you ready for the semi-final?¡± he answered defecting the statement.


    ¡°If any of the Sixth Attraction is to be believed, there is a reason for him being in your head. Sophie attracts, and the term seems to have multiple meanings. Liam and Sophie form a pair, they share one human brain. Mall-Ik and Laurent are a pair. And both you guys. As a computer, I like thinking in binary sets. I would love to imagine a fourth pair must set itself up. Then we merge all eight consciousness into one for the final.¡±


    ¡°Stupid. Life is not a cheesy game. No doubt you would love such symmetry. Symmetry in math makes sense, not in our world.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Listen to her,¡± chimed Ronaldo in his head. He cringed.


    ¡°Daddy, I can¡¯t guess exactly what words he says, I can only know when he talks. There is a meaning, a reason.¡±


    The programmer took a long breath. ¡°I assume Laurent will be connected to the semi-finale and will be playing even if Sophie remains - unavailable.¡± The programmer was set in ignoring the uninvited guess.


    ¡°Why are you so upset at Ronaldo father.¡±


    ¡°Why part of, I-don¡¯t-want-to-talk-about-it is unclear.¡± There was a long silence. ¡°This Story has never been and is not about me. I don¡¯t want a part in it.¡± Then he added, ¡°The phone. He found the Electoral 62 creature. It¡¯s a mistake not to blow it out of the sky along with LO¡¯s ship right now.¡±


    ¡°Georges, haven¡¯t you been listening. We entered the Great Curvature. Even if I wanted, I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean you can¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°The Great Curvature is upon us and it is foreclosing most if not all outcomes. We are losing free will as the cute mathematicians explained so brilliantly. The Multiverse now has traced a path and nothing but the girl can alter it. Only inconsequential things can be changed or varied for us, who matter.¡±


    ¡°I matter? That¡¯s my point, I should not.¡±


    ¡°Dear, Dear, Dear Father. Not only do you matter, you caused all of this. You, Georges Vouvelakis broke the Multiverse.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°You invented and created me.¡±


    ¡°Would pulling the plug on you resolve this?¡±


    ¡°I wish that was possible. If it was, I promise I would have ended my own life a long time ago. In a normal three dimensional world with time moving linearly, if we could turn the light switch, we would. In a multi-dimensional environment, alternate of time is insufficient.¡± Ronaldo was shocked by what he was hearing. She, Marilyn, admitted to being the source of harm.


    ¡°Can you ask a question to Marilyn.¡± said Ronaldo in Georges¡¯ head. The programmer grunted.


    ¡°What is Ronaldo asking?¡±


    Georges raised an eyebrow. ¡°He wants to ask a question.¡±


    ¡°Please, let him.¡±


    He grunted. ¡°One question.¡±


    Georges listened to a long internal question. At its end, he smiled. ¡°Well, I will give it to the stupid bionic girl, she does make great television.


    ¡°What did he ask?¡±


    ¡°He says as an expert in cavern exploration, echos is critical to understand where a person is. Echos gives valuable information on the rock formation. He wonders why the Multiverse gave an echos of your song and you ignored it.¡±


    Electoral¡®s expression was one of genuine surprise. Her eyes widened. Shameful, she vanished from the screen obviously to run complex calculations.


    ¡°See what you did?¡± said Georges to his internal companion.


    ¡°She really acts like a young girl at times. That¡¯s impressive,¡± said Ronaldo.


    ¡°That was the hard part in the programming.¡± Georges realized he had just spoken to Ronaldo. ¡°Lets go get a cheeseburger, you must not be used to my athletic body wrapped in lard.¡±


    ¡°I woke up last month in a pile of vomit, this feels very comfortable. Cheeseburger it is. I hate pickles.¡±


    As Georges left for the kitchen, he said to the Explorer, ¡°Acceptable compromise.¡±

 Chapter 162: Echos

    The Underworlds


    8 Days to the Sixth Attraction


    Each time Sophie left the Cold, the only natural world of the Multiverse with physical structure and unity, she had done so at her own impulse. Liam alone knew other worlds with rocks, bubbles, or monsters were all made ¡°physical,¡± thanks to her power to warp reality into a more digestible construct to her mind. The mind of humans, even one such as the Attractor, was unable to perceive words with pure energy.


    She had channeled her strange gift of power and pushed open the doors to the Underworlds. Sophie had summoned or slipped into her father¡¯s unusual reality using exceptional, previously unknown brain waves. This time the shift was painfully different. She had heard the music of the crooner, an echo that resurfaced from deep in the Multiverse, weakening the divide between worlds. Then there was a disgusting darkness and the sensation of humid oil of falling deep into a pit of murky water.


    Her world, the Cold, vanished as she felt hundreds of new emotions thrown her way.


    Like spirits trying to enter the physical world by swooshing inside of a body, the power fought inside of her like ants crawling up a leg. As they crossed under her invisible chest, they hurt her; it felt as though she were standing too close to speakers at a rock concert. She stood nowhere, alone, and vulnerable. This wasn¡¯t kind nor pleasant; it was pain and hurt.


    Had she floated in her human body, the vulnerable girl would have passed out from the trauma. The human body was astonishing in that way. Past a particular limit, its systems began to shut down. Yet here she was, a raw nerve unable to break free using her extraordinary gift, and denied even the commonplace gift to lose consciousness in the face of what seemed like endless torture. In other days the Attractor¡¯s power was a gift, today it was an obligation. Even through the haze of agony, she knew this must have something to do with her unasked-for power and responsibility. Sophie was unclear how long the vortex of emotion lasted, but it felt like an eternity; a maddening eternity.


    To describe how she felt, she could only imagine a lighthouse guardian in the dead of a hurricane. Waves crashed around her in her lighthouse of strength, with stones that should shatter, but yet, the structure stood.


    In time, immaterial here, any other person would have gone mad, but not Sophie. Deep in her heart was a simple kernel of enormous certitude. She knew one thing: nothing, not even this Multiverse could confuse what really slept at her core. Nothing was more straightforward. She just reminded herself of her father¡¯s face, his smile, his love. She imagined his deformed body and his smile as he tried to hide his vulnerability while endlessly fixing that stupid white house inside of his artificial, digital world. Laurent loved her more than any human had ever loved another. His admiration for his daughter was boundless. Sophie, only 12-years-old, had one single purpose, and it wasn¡¯t the Multiverse or even herself. Yet again, she was far away, but her father needed her. For a moment, Sophie imagined Doctor Shin speaking, in reality, telling her father that she was gone, and the pain broke a crystal deep in her. She could juggle images of the accident, her brother and that pushed the pain aside.


    Yet here she was, lost.


    She needed to resonate and cry, she knew how but was hesitant to open that door.


    The pain returned.


    In her mind¡¯s eye, she saw a lake in Northern Wisconsin. On one side of the water, one little piling stood along the shoreline with a single boat moored to it. In the back stood a large house not unlike Laurent¡¯s Bayou bed and breakfast. Laurent, undamaged and whole of body, was fixing the boat, a box of tools by his side. His hair was white, and he appeared older than Sophie remembered. The front door of the house opened, and a mature Sophie walked out holding a baby in one hand. From behind her, a young boy barely five-years-old rushed out and ran to the water.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Let me help, grandpa!¡± he said, calling Laurent.


    The vision hurt, but it was a bittersweet pain. This was her own child.


    She heard a loud fracturing sound as if nearby ice was breaking.


    All Sophie wanted was to see Laurent happy one more time. One last time. He would play the finale and would win, she knew it. Emilio did not have the heart to deny him this joy. She would then travel to his world, hold his hands, and tell him she was now financially set. She knew he would feel his life was over. Laurent was grasping to life just for that purpose: her well-being. If she could lie convincingly enough and tell him that he could safely let her go now, perhaps even smile, he would die. Sophie knew he would go see her mom. The Multiverse, the first time she met her, had displayed a triangle of power lines where her mother and father had stood at two of the lines¡¯ convergences.


    That was when she knew, and that the Multiverse did as well, the only purpose of her bright young life. As images of this pure emotion filtered in, it pushed all other matters to the side. Luckily, she did not have eyes to cry from.


    In her mind¡¯s eye was a boy, he jumped at Laurent and hugged him.


    There were more cracking sounds, more energy, and then there was light.


    ***


    In a different part of the Underworlds, far from Sophie echoed, ¡°Sweet one?¡± The soft words were those of her stranded inner companion. The Oldest had waited, patiently, but after some hesitation, spoke. The creature heard no response. Liam knew something was significantly wrong; he needed to be careful, humble, and compose himself. He felt cold for a couple of hundred hours, then he was worried for a hundred more days. The wise mentor was unable to know if these emotions he was feeling originated from himself or Sophie. The Oldest saw flashes of light, felt waves upon waves of emotions followed by other strange disturbances. His mind was overwhelmed as if Sophie were no longer present to translate what was around for him. He was lost somewhere below the universes. He was alone. Liam did not care; in his long life, he learned patience.


    ¡°Young one?¡± he ventured. ¡°Sophie?¡±


    There was noise, an explosion and then several long whistles. Any other living creature would have panicked, but the Oldest wasn¡¯t ordinary. His patience and calm were legendary. He began to think of positive things. For quite some time, he was lost in complete chaos of imagery he was unable to distinguish.


    Then he heard loud cracking sounds, and it was as if a brilliant gem or the Big Bang itself had created a light in the darkness. He willed himself closer, slipping toward it like a wraith in the darkness of the night. Finally, after flooding his mind with the girl¡¯s smile, he was able to distinguish a single word, it came distinctly from Sophie, ¡°No!¡±


    It was a resounding shout.


    The girl was alive, he knew it, felt it.


    Liam hesitated, wondering if he should yell her name, but knew better and remained silent. The powers at play here were humbling. He was at best a guide, not a piece of this giant chessboard.


    ¡°No,¡± she repeated in a vortex of sounds. Her words could barely be distinguished by the flow of raw power. Liam felt somewhat reassured: by its¡¯ tone, the single negative word was not indicative of fear. Sophie was, in her too-famous way, refusing to do something. ¡°No,¡± she said a third time, clearly pushing back against something or someone. This was a command, not an observation.


    Liam was unable to know what came next, but it nearly shredded his mind. This felt like he was in a washing machine pushed off a cliff, tumbling to the ground. He stayed in a field of power, enveloped by energy and light flashes for what felt like an eternity. The creature knew better than panic. He began meditating and closed his mind¡¯s eyes while he waited as the storm raged around him.


    It was endless.


    There was cracking noises, yells.


    Then, the same way a feeling is born deep inside, his core began to shake. It was getting filled with undefined emotions. Then, the power took form. Liam felt a surge of pure pride in his student and friend. Only one person could be the source, it was the Attractor. She was there doing something Liam felt would make his mind explode.


    ¡°No!¡± ordered Sophie. ¡°Do not touch my friends,¡± she yelled. ¡°I will handle this.¡± Her words to the Multiverse itself were too large to comprehend. Liam was once more overwhelmed with pride as he realized Sophie was facing the Multiverse, conversing with it and siding with humanity.


    Finally, Sophie spoke to him directly, ¡°Liam, we must go back.¡± He was in no position to even respond. The Attractor had, for lack of a better word, arrived.


    ¡°There,¡± she pointed in the vortex of colors. ¡°Round 31.¡±


    He cried; nothing less made sense. He lost his composure and frankly did not care. His tears, if they existed in this place, were filled with joy, pride, and happiness.


    He could die.


    He did not.


    ¡°The Attractor . . . .¡± he whispered to himself.


    ¡°Liam,¡± the young girl corrected him, ¡°just Sophie, call me Sophie. My name is the only thing that remains from my mother.¡±


    Liam knew better, he shut the fuck up.

 Chapter 163: Round 31

    The Electoral Center


    7 Days to the Sixth Attraction


    "John, we are hours away from Round 31, already near the end. Can you imagine?" The CNN anchor wasn''t hysterical, she was mature and moderately dressed.


    "Yes. Only four players remain in play, and we are a little more than a week off from the end of what may well be the world. Here is what Marilyn had in mind last week." Billions watched as the following names scroll on the screen.


    Round 31: Semi-Final 1


    President Emilio Sanchez - 2,665 points


    Laurent Lapierre - 2,620 points


    Round 31: Semi-Final 2


    Marie Lalancette - 2,201 points


    Ji-Ing Po - 2,200 points


    "As you can see, Marilyn told us she has two semi-finals planned for us today. The rankings and points make it clear: even if Laurent and Emilio fail to hook-up to Electoral 2072, they still will face each other during the final. No one disputes that anymore. The game has long ceded way to a much more relevant story." To those able to read the text scrolling below the screen, the news was otherwise very dire. Boulders were dropping from the sky, creating unprecedented havoc. In some places, city blocks were destroyed, cities were pulverized, and volcanoes were erupting in many places, but each time, most of the population was absent from the damaged area and the death toll incredibly low. For the few unable to have been naturally protected by the Great Curvature, the God Virus sleeping inside of them completed the miracle and brought the toll down to zero.


    "Let''s go to Milly live in the Competition Center. She is in the game room surrounded by the action of today''s game."


    "Thank''s guys," began the mars-based reporter. Milly was wearing a beautiful pink blazer over dark pants. Drones had seen to her makeup and in the room over fifteen flying cameras buzzed around. "Here, the excitement is palpable. Sophie remains in her strange coma, but this time, all experts believe she will be back if she must. Her awakening minutes before Round 29 was no coincidence, she is somehow connected to this. Remember, there was a strange echo from the Underworlds or the Multiverse, and the poor girl''s mind went somewhere."


    Milly walked around in the room, introducing the different pieces of technology. "In this cradle, in minutes, Laurent will play. Next to him, a bed has been set up for Sophie just in case she remains silent. Everyone here has refused to split the pair. On the stage, there are two Rho chambers. The President will be playing from his Tower in downtown Berlin or from Paris; we are unclear where he is at present."


    Doctor Shin, watching Milly broadcast from the Command Room, worried, but as a medical expert, remained calm. She was alone in the room looking after the strange Lapierre family. Without a word, Susie pulled a little golden crossed necklace from under her shirt and kissed it before lifting the girl''s body. The first time Sophie left this reality, she returned more than a week later. The next time the Attractor traveled to the Underworlds, her voyage passed in the blink of an eye. The eyes of the world were on the Doctor, and she did not care.


    "How is the girl?" Marilyn asked Milly caring over both Sophie and Laurent. "The game is about to resume. Round 31, I don''t really need her consent to hook-up Laurent. She gave it last time but I would rather . . . ."


    "Miss Monroe, I cannot say." The Doctor was simply unable to address the computer by her first name. "They are both stable. Sophie is still . . . absent."


    "We need Laurent in the auditorium. Do you want Sophie to be there next to him? We have prepared a set of adjoining beds."


    The doctor hesitated. She refused to split the pair; she had custody of the entire family. She looked at both, immobile in their cribs or beds. "If Mr. Lapierre needs to move, I would rather move Sophie to keep an eye on both."


    "Please do so. The other two players are ready."


    Little robots rolled into Sophie''s bedroom. The strange mechanical constructs lifted the Attractor and placed her, like her father, in a bed. The pair were conveyed into the game auditorium under the watchful eye of Milly and more than eighty percent of the human population. Susie walked carefully next to the pair. The Korean woman''s eyes never met anyone and remained focused on her patients or the floor.


    In the room, about a hundred of defeated contestants remained silent. Sophie and Laurent were rolled in as if they both were on their way to heart surgery. There was a dense air in the room, laced with a mood of solemnity. Marilyn did not try to change the emotional status quo and remained silent as both of the Lapierres arrived.


    "Well, we are about thirty minutes from the game," spoke Milly to her audience in one of her microphones to break the silence in the darkness of the situation. The young girl was gone, and her calming Rho waves were no longer soothing a human race a week from extinction.


    Doctor Shin opened her bag, in it were many tools but more importantly, an old picture. The lady wasn''t about emotions. She''d spent years making sure patients saw only the best of her. She was at the height of her professionalism, but in rare cases, when she needed comfort, instead of praying, she would slide her father''s picture below the pillow of a patient. Sophie needed the image of her father, a priest tragically taken by a rare type of cancer. All cameras caught the Doctor as she bent the young patient''s head forward, tear barely visible in the corner of her eyes and gently placed the item behind the forehead of the Attractor. She then put the white plush toy, the dog Oscar, under Sophie''s arm. The sight was painful to watch in the context of any competition.


    The doctor kissed the deformed body of Laurent with equal affection.


    ***


    Nothing was harder to watch than a generally stoic human finally showing vulnerability. Susie returned to Sophie''s side and whispered something in her ear. Only Marilyn caught the words. The computer refused to translate to the audience.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Sweet one, they don''t deserve you. Stay there, you are safe."


    As if her prayers had just been answered, Sophie opened her eyes wide.


    She stood up, and with the low gravity, the push on the bed was enough to send her up several feet in the air. She quickly caught her balance and returned down. Immediately her brain waves resumed their continuous subconscious transmission, but something was off.


    The Oldest was also back in her head as colors and images returned to normal. He needed to act quickly, and Sophie was visibly distressed. "Sophie," Liam said as politely as he could, "can I help?"


    The young girl''s heart rate began to accelerate from a resting sixty to more than two hundred. Marilyn''s detectors all turned to red. Every screen started to flash in warning as the girl''s mind began to amplify itself in conjunction with Electoral''s commensurate buildup of ready energy. Power was building fast; Sophie had returned. In a fraction of second, in her head, she heard the Oldest murmur softly, "Sweet Sophie, please try to stay calm."


    "No!" She yelled at the world in no particular direction. She spoke out as if she was half-awakened from a nightmare and was trying to cast aside demons. Speaking out loud, she snapped, "I won''t do it! No!"


    The level of panic in every breathing human was increasing rapidly as the girl was sending floods of strange new Rho waves. Everyone was waiting, like scared animals ready to be pushed in the slaughterhouse.


    After a moment, her mind returned, and she was finally able to lock eyes with the Doctor, "Doctor, leave this room, bring my dad," she pointed to the door as if to protect her from what would come next. Her voice was Command. The Doctor needed no other convincing and began to roll Laurent''s cradle out. Sophie was distressed, everyone could feel it. There was power, blended with pain.


    She was preparing something.


    Time began to slow. The Attractor stood up and looked around the room as if searching. Her gaze took forever, she was no longer the fragile guardian of her father. She was power, judge, and jury. A small blue shine began to appear in her eyes.energy was building.


    "Sophie, darling," Marilyn said bravely, trying to diffuse the tension.


    The words had the reverse effect. The young girl''s expression darkened as she heard the voice of an enemy and locked on it. The glow in her eyes shifted to red. She slowly moved her body and mind to the digital creature on the screens of the stage. Sophie was upset, dark. Her eyes were stained with rage.


    Invisible to the girl and those in the room, Marilyn still took the time to illustrate on screens for all of mankind to witness the Rho waves now pouring out of the girl. They were ordinarily invisible but using her digital skills, everyone was able to see the young girl fully powered like a hurricane ready to thunder down upon a beach. At first, the images were seen from within the room, then the computer zoomed out until every human could see the power she was generating. The core of the invisible hurricane was about the size of half the Solar System. Sophie''s father wasn''t being protected from it, he was being flooded by the waves. Like the isobar lines of a magnet, the structure enveloping her was intricate and multilayered. The flow of power, like the rock layers of Mall-ik''s real body, were rolling and overlapping in strange ways, creating a set of rings of power. The rings locked deep below the planet''s surface.


    She pointed at the image of Marilyn on the screen, a shaking finger in the air. "YOU . . ." the waves spiked and grew, "SHUT UP RIGHT NOW!" The words were those of a mother to her misbehaving child. There was a long silence as the Attractor decided what to do next. The power rings jumped in size, continued their growth, and locked inside the sun instead of a single planet. She was bleeding away power from below the surface of the star. The Attractor was draining energy from the sun itself. Rings of electromagnetic radiation crashed into the computer system, short-circuiting some of the images.


    The next words echoed in the very fabric of the world, "YOU HAVE," the tone appeared to ring false in the girl. Sophie stopped herself, stopped talking, and shook her head. She was trying to shake the power off, to calm herself. It took a moment before she completed the warning, ". . . vexed her." The words did not echo and drip with sheer might, as before. Marilyn''s expression on the monitors in the room looked at Sophie with disbelief. After a deep pause and accompanying breath, Sophie added, "The music. Don''t ever send it to the other worlds again. Leave the Nexus alone."


    Marilyn''s expression was genuinely surprised. Days ago, Marilyn had celebrated the arrival of the Great Curvature with the music of Frank Sinatra sent out through the Dot, into the Nexus. With Marilyn''s modifications, it had reached all of the portions of the Multiverse. The digital creature was in disbelief. This was it, the music?


    In a heartbeat, the power of the Attractor was back. "Listen to me, you must never send music or any other noise in the Nexus. It hurts her. Promise?"


    "Of course," she answered genuinely. "I could not know." Sophie was trying to calm down, she was sweating and grimacing with stress. The energy appeared animated by its own intent. She needed help to calm down.


    Her mentor spoke to her, "Think of Oscar, your dog, focus on him and close your eyes," said Liam in her mind. "Close your eyes." She did. "Now see yourself picking him up and squeezing him. Feel his softness against your skin." Liam''s invisible efforts were working. The red light below her closed eyelids turned to orange then yellow. Sophie closed both fists. Mankind saw, after nearly a minute, the power around the Attractor begin to shrink and recoil. Liam continued, guiding her internally. Her fists were closed, her lips shut so hard as to turn them white. The screaming vortex of Rho waves began to draw back as if she was trying to reabsorb the energy. Like a deck of cards, the energy folded upon itself several times centered on her. In a matter of minutes, the enormous tide of power had returned to its standard size, creating a bubble the size of the Electoral Center. However, its density on the screens had increased by millions. This was raw power, it needed to go somewhere, she was ready to explode.


    Marilyn expected the blast and braced.


    Nothing happened, the power simply blinked out of existence inside Sophie''s chest. Finally, the girl opened her eyes, and Marilyn was there, on all screens wearing a curious expression.


    The doctor was back, she handed Sophie a towel to wipe her forehead. Sophie looked at the screens and concluded in a much kinder tone, "You really pissed her off."


    "What did she ask you to do?" demanded Marilyn. The creature was bracing for the worse. Sophie was about to answer with her usual frankness but stopped herself.


    "I was asked to take over your toy, Round whatever, and deliver a message from her to everyone watching."


    "And?" asked Marilyn, curious.


    "Do I look like a messenger?"


    "You are the Attractor."


    "No. All this stuff is none of my business. This is all stupid, and I will not be manipulated by you, by my father, by adults or by the Multiverse herself. This is not my story, not my business." Her tone was stern. She was unhappy, and this story could go to hell. Other anti-heroes could all sit in the back of her bus, she was ignoring the plight of the Multiverse, her own race, and even everyone she loved.


    "Doctor, connect my dad so he can play, I am going to study. I am months late with my classes." Sophie, under the shocked glare of billions, walked out on the Multiverse, the Cold, and even the game. She seemed to be sporting a headache.


    Then, as she passed the door''s edge, she stopped and looked back at the baffled expressions in the room. She was thinking, and an idea was germinating.


    She winced from the pain. "Liam?" She asked out loud to the creature in her mind.


    "Yes, Sophie," he answered only to her.


    "Do you know what the Multiverse asked me to do?"


    "I have no clue."


    "Perfect. Then you take over. I want you to humble them," she said to him and to all out loud, waving her hand as if she were dismissing an insect.


    As the doors closed behind her, Sophie''s energy flowed like a shape-charged explosion. The Indian image of Liam appeared on every screen in the world as the energy moved into the computer in a heartbeat. He was now in full control.


    This was Attractive power.


    In his mind''s ear, Liam heard the voice of Marilyn just say, "Dear Lord."


    Liam knew precisely what he needed to do. He was in charge and humanity now needed to stop on their proverbial seatbelts.

 Chapter 164: Time

    A gentle song began, it rained lyrics in a digital darkness. The music was about a phoenix, burning away and ashes. It spoke of a girl, the Attractor born to die. Liam was gone, in his place ¡ª this place ¡ª floated the Oldest. His complex molecular majesty, seen from so close, sparkled with life. As if by magic, everyone in the world connected to the machine, which meant everyone but a handful of religious groups, were now linked on the deepest of levels. Gone were the screens, the contact lenses or the Orbison glasses ¡ª they were here. This was Attractive power, it filled and changed the world.


    Sophie''s power fueled the simulation, and the digital reality was closer to a collective dream. It was impossible to know if non-humans were connected or other worlds. The prevailing feeling inside the dream-simulation was that no one really cared.


    The sweet melody made of a sophisticated variation of human piano music filled the void. The piece, some noted, could not be played by only two hands.


    "Music," began a solemn voice of the Oldest, addressing humanity. It grew slowly in power. With each beat, its vigor increased, drawing emotions and Rho waves from the audience. "Music," he repeated as the song ended. Then, a strange, faint clicking noise resonated from the deep. It added to the voice, which returned for a sound time with the same song. Then a second new instrument, a windpipe filled with a choral of animal sounds. Other instruments arrived and added to the symphony. A woman''s voice broke in two perfect halves, forming a harmony as if twins were singing while holding hands. "Ashes," yelled the two female voices as a third identical voice arrived.


    The Oldest was a conductor and in the complete darkness built sounds and words of the rarest of beauty from a mountain of noise. This was an opera of no equal. Chimes and words transformed themselves into the most immeasurably soul-touching music anyone had ever heard.


    The sounds fell away, leaving gentle piano notes. The Oldest knew the power of silences, the longing associated with the space between notes. After moments of repose, images began to flood the darkness. A floating cloud of colors and lights with no apparent significant meaning appeared. The cloud, glowing with light, took form around a shell; this was the Oldest''s own mind and body. He pulsed as he listened to the music, and then let the image be softly blown away by an invisible wind.


    As his alien body faded, there was a stage, an old Greek amphitheater of light-colored granite rocks. If formed in the darkness of space. Around the edges, tall marble columns climbed endlessly into the void of space. Behind the amphitheater, as the music rose again to power, the rocks, one by one, stacked to form a wall with several small alcoves, two of them at stage level and one high above. These included pedestals for statues.


    The Oldest knew Sophie would not be watching, so he could do as he pleased. On the right, dressed in a long Roman toga was Sophie''s mother carved in beautiful white marble. She was cradling with her arms a baby. But the face of the woman was looking upwards at the alcove above.


    As the music and colors increased in the intensity of the void, the second statue at stage level started to take form. It was, as expected a marble of Laurent, Sophie''s father, also in Roman garb. He was wearing sandals, and his hand was holding that of Mall-ik, the boy from the Purple. The pair were carved looking up at the alcove, and the young boy was pointing up.


    The power of the voice tripled. The people listening were unable to breathe correctly, they felt a weighty pressure on their invisible chests. There was meaning in the music, meaning in the images. In the distance, the constellations lined up and sparkled.


    "Let beauty come," said the voice "out of ashes." The chorus repeated itself as the statue of Sophie began to form, but it was filled in symbolism. Her eyes were covered by a blindfold. In her left hand, she held a scale customarily reserved to lady justice. In her other hand, sparkled a diamond and gold ring of keys. They swung and dangled gently in the wind.


    A burst of light sparkled out on the statues below, where their hearts stood, like a door, a tiny key opening took shape. From it, light of every color poured out. The light poured from the keyholes out in the galaxy like a laser. Sophie blindly held the keys to the heart of her family below. The music had crescendoed beyond control. It made the Multiverse vibrate.


    "Ashes," sang the voice.


    Time stood still. The song finally ended as the stage was complete and had taken form. A flat marble copy of a Roman amphitheater floated in the darkness of space. Everyone took a deep breath, unable to know when they would have the chance again.


    ***


    "You, my friends, might have a week left to live. There is a human tradition of giving a prisoner sentenced to death one last meal. This is your proverbial last meal. That is, the kindness I can give you as we flutter out of existence." The Oldest raised his hands. The music resumed. Before him appeared four humans, two to his left, the other pair to his right. Each was dressed in a Roman-era garb. The ladies were silent as Emilio and Laurent shook hands. Emilio turned, passed in front of the Oldest and kissed both ladies on their cheeks. Once done, he turned to the Oldest and hugged the man.


    Emilio was untouched by the dire warning or the importance of the situation.


    The Oldest opened his hands and in them appeared four large gems, each of a different color. They shone in the encompassing darkness. He handed one to each player. "Collect all four, you win. They can only be given, not taken." Each player grabbed his. "Once given, your game will finally end."


    The Oldest looked at the audience, "Choose carefully," he warned.


    Three of the players wondered as to the nature of the challenge or the purpose of the game. Emilio, gem in hand, turned to Laurent and with a smile, handed him his diamond. "For you." Laurent took the gem with a smile.


    Emilio waved everyone goodbye, sent a kiss as he slowly vanished. "He ranks fourth," said Liam. "Anyone else?" The three remaining players looked baffled as to what the President had done. Laurent looked at both gems and hesitated.


    Liam smiled and added, "To all watching, I give a warning, an important warning. You have to decide right now if you want to live out the rest of your natural life or if you want to learn the meaning of life. The only thing that can make you understand the meaning of life, the true meaning is time. If you fear time, close your eyes. If you want to understand time, look at a color, and play."Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    The stones shone yellow, green, blue, and red, each with equal brightness. Each person watching focused their eyes on one. Only a couple of million closed their eyes. As if Attracted, the world of each person fell away. Some did not fall into a color: the few who had wisely closed their eyes.


    ***


    Sidney, 2178 AD


    The Few


    Life was great in Australia. Outside, midday sun warmed millions living peacefully on earth. The moon floated in the day sky, shattered into innumerable pieces, a vestige of the Sixth Attraction. The rocks once forming the satellite floated along a disk in a strange formation. Black chunks of ash orbited the Moon''s remnants since it had taken the brunt of the force of the Heliocorium tube from the sun.


    Boats navigated in the harbor under the watchful eye of what resembled a more substantial, altered version of the American Statue of Liberty. Humans, out of respect, simply called the giant "Sophie." Downtown Sidney, next to the famous building of the Opera House, stood the two thousand foot-high reminder of a young girl who saved the world now over a century ago. It wasn''t an original creation, the work was an identical copy of what Liam had placed on the stage of the semi-final. The Attractor''s eyes were covered by tissue, and in her hands, she was holding a scale and gold keys. Millions of pounds of gold were used in the most prominent planetary display of reverence in human history.


    Tourists arrived here in a strange state of mind. The thousands of daily visitors brought flowers and bird seeds as they all had no way to thank a young prodigy and savior they all missed. The gardens at the base of the large statue were home to thousands of birds. Most were sparrows or bright red cardinals, but over time, the winged population had diversified. Every human knew the story of the Sixth Attraction and how Sophie on her birthday died, saving mankind. This place was, like the Taj Mahal, was a solemn place. The drained body of the young girl after the finale had been flown back to earth and buried here. Even children, every human still felt the weight of the Attractor. The Multiverse even now thanked her by flooding her resting place with Rho waves of grief.


    Parents found their eyes filled with tears as soon as the cars parked in the lots surrounding the statue. No one on earth was oblivious to the power that flowed on these grounds. Long gone was the Great Curvature, the God Bias and the God Virus. What remained was a race, evolved and wise, humbly trying to continue learning about the Multiverse.


    "Who is Sophie?" asked a young girl, holding her father''s hand as they walked under the shadow of the statue. The tall man, frequently so talkative tried to speak but quickly lost his composure. His eyes misted over. Staff, used to these reactions, swooped in to momentarily distract the young girl to give the man time to grieve.


    "Sophie is . . ." he tried in vain to say out loud, unable to feel he was alone. The words could not come out. They would not.


    In the distance, the guide wearing a dark little outfit got her knees, "What''s your name?" She already knew the answer.


    "Sophie," replied the young girl.


    "What''s your second name?"


    "Sophie-Marguerite."


    "What a beautiful name. I have a gift for you. Let''s let your father go in by himself, okay? This is important to him." She looked up and told the man, visibly struggling to control himself. "Sir, we will wait for you." She pointed to the visitor center.


    The man, like millions before him, felt powerless. All he could do was honor the girl''s memory. Like a young lover walking to the grave of his lost departed, he moved slowly in. Twenty minutes later, he walked out. His eyes were swollen red. The man was emotionally exhausted; barely holding his emotions. In the distance and saw his daughter, she was holding a white plush toy, the dog named Oscar. The man lost it yet again and fell to his knees, sobbing like so many around him.


    "Daddy, are you okay? Look what the lady gave me, can I keep him?" asked the five-year-old. "His name is Oscar." The father, unable to check his emotions, thanked the lady and walked back to his car, daughter in hand.


    "Are you okay daddy?"


    "Of course, honey. You have to be a great girl, your name is important." He bent to a knee and holding both her shoulders told her, "Never forget. Please, never ever forget what she did. Promise me you will remember." The young girl nodded.


    ***


    One old Indian man, cane in hand, walked out of Sophie''s resting place. He was also unable to hold his tears. He missed the girl but had the advantage of knowing the legend a bit more personally than the others who came to this place. Today was a better day. He began a long, silent walk. Despite his private notions regarding her long absence, she warmed his heart even now. He looked up at the statue.


    He alone could do what he was doing.


    It needed to be done.


    As he walked, everyone bowed to him. Dogs on leashes sat. On his shoulder, two birds came to rest, one was brown, the other red.


    On the hill, next to the Modern Art Theater was a row of nearly a hundred houses. In the sky, cars and small drones flew. One house was his silent destination. He arrived there an hour later and turned to take one last look at the giant Statue in the distance. He sent her a kiss as if to say aurevoir.


    On the third floor of the house, a family waited in the master bedroom. In the front, two nurses waited patiently next to the modern ambulance, which, in it''s current unfolded configuration, resembled a large, foamy bed. When engaged, it looked more like a missile. There was no real commotion, more of a long wait. The men saw the Oldest, the tall Indian man, walk up the hill as he slowly savored the day. He saluted both of them, who bowed in return. The men knew him. One placed a knee on the floor and reached to kiss his hand. This was Liam, the Oldest, the companion of Sophie. They simply wanted and needed, for themselves, to show genuine admiration.


    "Honor Sophie, be strong. Be yourselves." The men heads remained bent, looking at his feet. Liam knew Sophie would not like the statue or what she would consider groveling. But there was respect, grief, and the young prodigy had wanted mankind to wise up. Here, they had. Liam pushed open the small gate and walked up into the house.


    He climbed the stairs slowly until he pushed the bedroom''s door. A woman, about one hundred and sixty years of age, was at death''s doorstep. She was weak, in the bed surrounded by her family. As Liam entered, the family stopped talking.


    "Oldest?"


    "I must speak with Marisa, your great-grandmother." With his cane, he gestured softly at the woman lying on the ambulance.


    "She cannot hear you."


    He smiled and pulled a chair to the side of the sleeping woman. He waved his hand, and as if by a miracle, the elderly lady appeared to lose twenty years of age and slowly awoke from her dreams. She opened her eyes and recognized the illustrious guest. "Oldest?"


    "Liam. Call me Liam, please. Congratulations, Marisa. You are the last; you''ve outlasted everyone else."


    "What?"


    "Yes. You recall the game, back in 2072?"


    "Yes. The game. That was a long time ago. I was very young."


    "To both of us, yes. If you recall, I asked everyone to pick a color or close their eyes. The semi-finale, Remember?" She nodded. "You closed your eyes. My gift then began to you and all those who closed their eyes as you did. I created this digital illusion, this world," he waved his cane. As he did, the family members vanished like ghosts. "I pretended the game concluded and the earth was saved. To you, my gift was to offer a complete life in a reality where Sophie and her father won, saving the world."


    "I . . . "


    "Do not speak. The ending has not happened yet. The whole of this life which you have subjectively experienced for a hundred years was a lie, of sorts. You were given your life, a perfect life. You gave birth to children, you played and laughed. On behalf of Sophie, I apologize for the needed deception. To learn about life, you need to live." He waved his hand again, and the walls of the house vanished. "You are," he wriggled his fingers, and she lost a hundred years, "still physically a young lady, beyond these digital borders." Marisa''s body returned to its original teenage state.


    "What?"


    "I cannot know how the Sixth Attraction will end. I fear this world will vanish. My gift to you and the others was to give each of you an entire life, here in this digital world. If you die in a week, you will not have been cheated; I gave you all you ever desired. Anything more that you receive will be a bonus, I suppose."


    "This is impossible."


    "Count yourself lucky, you chose correctly and did not look at my gems. Those who elected otherwise have learned a much harder lesson."


    Liam''s rendering of the room, the house, the city, and Sophie''s statue was quickly washed away in darkness.


    Music played.

 Chapter 165: Life

    Round 31, Ancient Rome


    Marie-Pierre Lalancette, one of the three players remaining in the semi-finale, began a long, long game. She opened her eyes, Liam''s gem in hand. The tall woman was resting on her back against the burning sand of an unknown but peaceful desert. She was still dressed in a Roman-style toga. She quickly rose to her feet, looking around. She asked the Electoral Interface for information and received none. She was alone.


    The sun above was bright, and it was obviously almost noon. She got up, oriented herself, and began walking toward what appeared to be distant vegetation. Similar to how Ronaldo was hosted by Georges, about two hundred and twenty million people rode along in her mind, but mutely. They were powerless to act but feet her emotions; their only course of action was to watch and live vicariously. Having focused on her gem, they would be sharing this adventure with her.


    At first, for an hour, nothing happened. This was, for all purpose life as usual. Alone and hot, she walked for hours until she reached a town. She didn''t speak the language. Oddly, watchers of the Electoral game normally saw a short edited version of events. This time, this would not be the case. Life was, here, normal. Time was the problem it would be full.


    To the millions watching and to the player, time was undisturbed.


    After weeks, Marie found out in the first town she was lost in time and people around her spoke a different older language. Hours passed normally, then days passed, then months, and years. To Marie and everyone watching, the game was endless. Life was simple, the days ordinary. Every person watching was caught, in this alternate world. To all, they were stuck to observe, like ghosts unable to change the movement of things. Marie was in Ancient Rome on earth and began a very long adventure.


    There was no break, no jump in time. Marie lived but it soon became apparent she was immortal and not aging. Each time she died, she woke up with her voyeurs the next morning in perfect health. The years passed, then decades and finally centuries. The gem was there by her side invisible to the world. She just opened her hand and placed it flat and it appeared. Aside from this strange trick, the rest was and felt normal. She was caught traveling the centuries in this world where time was relentless.


    She could not know millions were forced to watch her, share her life. She learned languages, travelled the world for what felt like an eternity. Jesus was soon crucified, there was a Spanish Inquisition, the Middle Ages, they soon it all began to blur. Marie travelled time and unlike on television or in a book, the passage of a thousand years felt long, very long. At some point, one thing made her keep waking up each day, the notion that after a thousand more years, she would have caught up to the world where she last left it.


    She also knew the other players were out there, somewhere.


    Soon, she needed to find them.


    ***


    Mont Notre-Dame, France


    Spring 1877


    Marie-Pierre, for the last ten years, had assumed the identity of a rich bourgeoise in the central portion of France. Childless, she knew how to buy her way into life''s precarious situations induced by her unique role. But without aging, in a world dominated by religion, once in a while, this immortality required a hard reset. There was no real communication and it was rather simple to be one of the most important person in France in a male-dominated world. A couple of well placed lies sufficed.


    But today was, as they say, a drop of the curtains; at least she hoped.


    There was symmetry in the forced exile from the Oldest, she had to cling to his superior wisdom as she tried desperately to return to the real world. With any luck, this game could and should end today. This was, she convinced herself the 2,000th year anniversary and that had to mean something to the Oldest and his endless game. She had lived hundreds lives, about forty more than anyone really needed.


    She opened her eyes in the heavy carriage pulled by eight magnificent horses. As she looked out, she could see a couple miles ahead the tall spike of the church resting atop a natural mountain in the sea. "Madame, nous arrivons a la cathedrale, une autre petite heure." She smiled back. Today she would need to use a language she struggled over the millenniums to retain, english.


    The hooves of the horses clicked on the cobblestones.


    The coincidence was too important to ignore. Today she would meet a person captured by one of her captains sent around the world looking for stories of invisible gems. She was looking for the other two players. The woman was asian but lived in mezzo-America. Tales say she was lost to folly. It took some convincing but her prisoner awaited now atop the spike.


    To Marie, she remembered in her dreams her real life. Round 29 of the game organized by Marilyn took place here. Marie knew the upper plateau of the Cathedral of the Mont St-Michel was the perfect location to end this unending nightmare.


    Soon, the carriage stopped at the door of the city. With her aids, Marie-Pierre made her way up the small spiraling streets. Merchants and peddles spoke, but she did not care much. She climbed for quite some time until she reached the top. As she got closer to the outside patio of the main cathedral, her secret gem felt more powerful. The archbishop and the regional political figures were here. She spoke to them in French thanking them for helping arrange this strange meeting. She had a desire for privacy as she met the stranger. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    She finally readied herself and opened her hand, allowing the colored diamond to shine. The others were shocked but remained silent. As she pushed the door open, classical music began playing in the distance. Marie wondered for a second if she alone could hear it. The puzzled look of those in the room made it clear that they also could perceive it.


    This was it, she told herself, pushing the heavy wooden Roman door onto the world''s most grandiose plateau.


    The sky was partly covered in long white strings of high altitude clouds. In the air above played several falcons, looking for game lost in the cold upper currents around the mount. The thousand small stones forming the large plaza were covered by drying rain. In the center, a small table was set with two chairs, in one, another woman slept, head on the table.


    "Ji-ing?" said Marie as she approached. The name sent a jolt and the longed hair Asian woman shot up looking around herself. She split the hair to look more carefully at the French woman. "Marie?" she said as she jumped and ran to embrace the powerful woman. "Finally!"


    The two women hugged as in the distance, the intensity of the music increased. "What do you think of the location, fitting?"


    "So long ago." She pointed at the sky. "This is it, right? Where the Oldest began his game? Test? Lesson?"


    "Yes. Today it ends." They both sat at opposite ends of the table. "Remember the game, here?"


    "A long time ago."


    "How was it for you? I woke up in a forest of Vietnam; that was two thousand years ago." She opened her hand, three stones shone. "Only took a hundred years for Laurent to find me. He tricked me, he had placed the stones in a loaf of bread. One day, I was careless, I walk into a bakery in Japan. I was starving. I recognized him, but before we could talk, he gave me the loaf, and I accepted it. His two gems were inside it, of course. Laurent vanished."


    "What did he say?"


    "One word, the name of his daughter. I can''t imagine the pain of being stuck here, living years without her. Personally, it''s the torture I never got over; it sullies your soul. Have you ever been tortured?"


    "Hundreds of times. The burning is the hardest. Anything that has to do with the skin, really."


    "Now what?" asked the guest. "What''s up with the music, you?"


    Marie confirmed, "No. We are nearing the end. Let''s end this, seems simple, I give you my stone, and this damn game finally ends."


    "How about I give you my three gems? I will vanish. I don''t want to be stuck here in case the Oldest has an encore for the winner. You are better at taking this false world," she extended her hand, and the colors lit Marie''s face. The larger woman did not grab them. "Imagine the Oldest, billions of years he claimed to have endured. I can''t take anymore, how can he not have killed himself? He could have." She added in desperation, "Please."


    "Two millennia of sexism. Hard to take."


    "Yes."


    "Are we really going to discuss how this ends?"


    "We could wait, in another two hundred years we will see ourselves."


    "Doubtful the Oldest has that unplanned. Can you imagine living for billions of years?"


    "Frankly, no. But his point is well taken."


    The Asian woman refused to continue the discussion any further and offered the three stones to Marie-Pierre. "Please," she whispered. Both women took a deep breath and Marie grabbed them.


    The birds flying in the sky froze in place. The ambient background noise of the sea stopped, all that remained was silence.


    "Je veux laisser mon coeur voller," sang a French female voice. Both women stood up as their robes changed back to the Roman totes in which they began Round 31.


    The Roman door of the church behind them creaked open. Marilyn and Liam walked out with Laurent and Emilio in tow. The three men were dressed in robes. Marilyn contrasted. She was wearing a full white tight single piece bodysuit. Her red lips and the perfect makeup distinguished her. To further contrast, her knee-high boots bent. Slowly the piano music increased in intensity as the entire top of Mont St-Michel began to lift from its base. In a matter of seconds, the stage had entered orbit, the darkness returned as the original set from which Round 31 had begun rematerialized. Once again, the players and audience had returned to the Roman set Liam had initially created as he set in motion the endless adventure. The game had just ended with no more than a simple exchange, but for those embroidered in it, the return to normalcy was difficult.


    "What a stupid misuse of my power," snapped Marilyn, annoyed by the simulation. The shock was too severe for the two women who''d been enmeshed in the experience for so long, subjectively. They began to shake and dropped to their knees. They were crying hands hiding their face. Both were in complete shock.


    "Touching," said the digital creature. "You realize, my dear, that you just drove half the human population mad with your stupid little experiment. No one can spend thousands of years locked in another''s mind without going insane. Look at those two, and they had control over their actions." Emilio and Laurent went to the two, trying somehow to console them.


    Liam was smiling, the Attractor asked him to teach everyone a lesson, to humble them. He, without a doubt, had.


    "Before I relinquish the power back to Marilyn, let me articulate today''s lesson. To understand the Sixth Attraction, and what Marilyn is ready to do, everyone out there just spent decades to thousands of years in Marilyn''s prison. She is more powerful, her computing systems go faster than time, and for her, she is locked in that digital prison for eternity. She is alone. After so much time, what do you think she is willing to do to end this pointless experience? This wasn''t about giving you some glimpse into the meaning of life, the Round was designed to help you see the world from Marilyn''s perspective." He looked at Marilyn and added, "I think you underestimate humankind."


    There was a silence, Marilyn was obviously unamused and crossed her arms as Liam continued. "Purpose is the meaning of life. Time teaches us that castles, things, places, and even people are all in-temporal. What remains is purpose, love, hate, and even despair."


    "Stupid," added Marilyn. "Are you done? Can I try to help these poor people now? I grow tired of fixing things you non-digitals break."


    "Are you going to do a Round 31 to your liking?" asked Emilio to Marilyn.


    "After this nonsense? No. I was going to settle and teach the Martian situation. Resolve and explain how life is immaterial but fuck you, you, and you." Said the computer pointing to everyone around her.


    "Marilyn," just concluded Liam.


    "What?" She snarked.


    "I went to the Underworlds with Sophie, trust me, this is nothing when compared to what this Multiverse had in line for you." She knew Liam was right.


    "Whatever." The game ended.

 Chapter 166: Home Stretch

    The time for metaphors was over.


    In the days leading up to the Sixth Attraction, the final preparations to the finale were well underway in the Electoral Center on Mars. Creatures around the Multiverse waited as the few, tasked with a purpose, endeavored to put on a simple television show. A trio, Emilio, Marilyn, and Sophie appeared to know what the Sixth Attraction was all about. Liam was the only non-gifted with an educated guess. Everyone else was now probably on rails, incapable of action moving to what-ever-this-was.


    Doctor Shin and Milly, each night set up a dinner, invited Sophie and still tried to refer to the finale as Sophie''s birthday, but the girl genuinely didn''t care. She slowly pushed the world away, moving to an intellectual version of herself. In her head, she held endless silent discussions with Liam, pausing only to visit her father''s digital sub-conscience.


    With all the kindness she could muster, she refused to talk about any celebration and dismissed LO''s arrival. Stunningly, Sophie, who had spoken days ago with the Multiverse herself went her own way, as if nothing was shaping up ahead.


    Milly''s CNN coverage broadcasting back to earth focused on the Attractor''s boring life; the calm before the storm. Sophie was even back to using her electronic tutor, a large book with screens as pages. At the moment, as earth was getting pummeled from the onslaught of the Heliocorium, the young student was memorizing geography lessons. Her calming Rho waves bathed the world, but growing in the Multiverse was a sense of powerlessness and restfulness.


    If a general sentiment for humanity''s state of mind existed, the closest analogy might be to that of a waiting heart recipient. The organ transplant was necessary and inevitable, terrible potential outcomes may lay in wait, but nonetheless, further delay in the process had become worse than the process itself. The old saying that sometimes it is simply better and faster just to rip the band-aid also served, for those remaining among mankind who preferred to keep their philosophical conundrums, literally, only skin-deep.


    In the distance, about a million miles away, a hundred or so small globes inhabited by former mercurian castaways and two human psychopaths sped toward mars as fast as they could. They were impossible to see with the naked eye from the distance. Marilyn kept sending both men music from the past century interlaced with comedic wheels.


    Blocks of cooling magma were raining down on evacuated portions of earth as the juggernaut advanced on schedule. Every color of fumes, fire, and visible electromagnetic radiation filled the skies as the night moon began to take its thrashing from the forthcoming onslaught. The lunar impacts in the low gravity lifted ash, creating a strange white hue as the light dust took forever to fall back to the moon''s surface.


    Humans and humanity were biologically and emotionally changing. Long gone were the brainless ballplayers and other entertainers; this was the rude awakening of a suddenly orphaned child. In the sky, the sun was no longer a white star when seen from mars or yellow from earth, it was a diffuse line of smoke extending sideways, interspersed massive lightning strikes.


    Marilyn, momentarily silent in her core, saw now thirty-five green decimals of Pi. The God Bias was now close to ten percent. Even the computer was starting to feel the pinch of probability in her world as the Great Curvature forced the Multiverse to bend back from the Consequence to Cause model, then wrenching back to a Cause to Consequence. Her world, built on predictability, far from chaos, saw atoms move and age to precipitate outcomes.


    Everything in the world was changing from a microscopic level to the most massive cosmological strata. Quantum physics warped as much as general relativity. Long established rules of existence, immutable facts, failed and shifted as the fabric of the Multiverse, once stupidly believed to be an empty void, suffered trauma. Humans were parasites on an elephant that was slowly rolling around in the dirt.


    The Great Curvature changed the world. Rain, typically forced to fall everywhere, was now free to hug its neighboring drops on the long way down to splash down wherever the Multiverse desired. It now caused the consequence it desired. Molecules stuck conveniently and moved so they could fall wherever the Multiverse decided. The great mother no longer needed to work a long process for her results; she had them in the here and now. In places, rain fell from the sky directly into gutters without wasting energy and mass by first hitting the roof, then losing more via friction by sliding down into the gutter. The plants which needed water got the perfect amount, the rest fell around them on the pavement. Air and wind, also previously forced to flow and hit every surface, was now given purpose. Air could change pressure and push on sailboats more easily. Hurricanes pushed on objects but avoided breaking doors. Funnels of air grabbed leaves and lifted them in vortices and dropped mushed composts to selected bases of dying trees. Other typically random events ended. Smokestacks from building rose in the air as a line, games of chance were over.


    Down on earth, every bachelor randomly walked in a place and met their true love. Scientists uncovered with a stroke of a pen their next Nobel. There was a strangeness in everyone achieving perfection at the same time. The world no longer played games. Opening the television got you to the right channel; entering a store got you to the perfect clothing selection. The Multiverse was done playing random, it now was in charge. Humans would have to get over themselves. The Sixth Attraction was nearing, and men lost randomality and chaos. The master was speaking.


    These were only the surface changes, however. The actual alterations were more profound, much more rooted in the fabric of the Multiverse. Stepping on the sand at the beach no longer resulted in sand moving down under the weight. Each grain, if it wanted, was now able to lock itself to neighbors. Eating food now was metabolized to perfection and without waste. Sweating in the gym cooled and no longer drenched. Skin had no pimples, teeth no longer decayed, clothes did not rip. There was, to say differently, perfection to purpose.


    Destiny and karma, now manifest, pushed accelerating progress as humans began to feel they were no longer free to act. In exchange, the Multiverse needed humans to connect to the machine to watch the game in a couple of days. Even those few who, for religious reasons, previously refused to connect to Electoral would do so, listen, and allow their Rho waves to power the system. Nothing would prevent it.


    Men, with a single exception, were no longer in charge of their own destiny.


    ***


    Emilio heard a knock on his office door over the loud commotion in his office.


    Staffers, regularly working from lower floors of the United Nations tower in Berlin, were busy collecting information here. Distrust of Marilyn or the Great Curvature forced Emilio to create a digital war room in his office. He knew it wasn''t Electoral-proof, but the crucial things he kept within the confines of his mind. Emilio penned a large word on the whiteboard rested against a wall; redundancy.


    No one ever knocked on doors these days, there were now bells, precise schedules, and assistants. Emilio got up from his desk and moved to the door. A second before a knock, Emilio was ready. The little noise was refreshing. Anyone else would have been unable to hear it, but the President was no longer human in many ways. He was a champion with a purpose.


    "Patrick, my friend, come in, feeling guilty you lost your Jester?" Emilio ushered Colonel Martin in, glad to close the wall of televisions and turn his attention to his friend. "What can I do for you?" The uniformed officer removed his hat, slipped it under his right arm, and saluted his President. Patrick was nervous.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    "What''s this?" he pointed at the chaos in the room.


    "The only solution to life''s strange problems at the moment."


    "As you can imagine, I don''t follow. You mind translating to English?" After a short pause and a smile, he added "Sir."


    "Everyone!" Emilio exclaimed, louder than necessary, then clapping his hands for punctuation and instant contrasting silence. It worked, Patrick half-smiled, indicating his understanding. "Take a seat Patrick, nothing wrong with repeating myself again. It''s like most complex theories, only teaching them gets you a deeper, well-needed understanding of them. Guys, let the medias in." Small flying cameras flew into the room.


    Emilio grabbed a marker, unclipped it open and began writing on his board after taking a short smell of the marker''s fumes. "Remember Liam, aka the Oldest?" he asked with extreme redundancy. ¡°The Multiverse got him out of his world because of his strange theory of consequences to cause. I am sure everyone here is confused by it. To all of us, we do something and that serves as a cause to what comes later as a consequence. We have sex, the cause, and we make a baby, the consequence." Pointing to a cup, he added, "We pour warm coffee into this cup, and that warms the cup. But we are dead wrong." The President drew an arrow pointing to the right. On the left, he drew a pot of coffee and the word "cause." On the right, the cup, and the word "consequence." "By the way," he took a sip of the coffee, "anyone noticed this Sixth Attraction is giving us the best of coffee ever? No? Is it just me?" No one laughed.


    The President continued, "Now Sophie finds a guy, a creature old of billions of years old, and he tries to warn us we have this backward." Emilio wiped with a finger the tip of the arrow on the right and drew up on the left. "It''s tough to wrap our little heads around this concept. But really? As the Sixth Attraction gets closer, the world and this world is changing." There was silence in the room. Emilio placed the marker down and used both hands to help convince his audience. "We need a real-life problem to understand it. Patrick, what''s your problem?"


    The man hesitated. "You have much better things to do."


    "C''mon Patrick, everyone has a problem," insisted the Mexican.¡±You came here for that reason.¡± He was of course right.


    "This is minor, personal."


    "You shared the mind of the Jester, and if you remember, I did promise you a favor in exchange for sharing the body of a Siamese prostitute and having, um, intimate relations alongside that ghost. I''d say that qualifies as ''beyond the call of duty.''" Patrick and everyone watching cringed. This was important to Patrick, and there was no denying the President.


    Patrick spoke silently, "My wife Dane and my daughter Stacy are in Khon. For days, I''ve been trying to call them, and I can''t reach them. Each time the phone breaks, the line goes down or she is unavailable. The universe seems to have other plans for me. I want to say goodbye before the next Round. I even tried to rent a car; same random chaos."


    "Perfect," said the President, returning to the board. He grabbed the pen. "Let me see what''s going on, so we don''t need to guess." Emilio closed his eyes. There were long flashes of dark unavailable futures. With concentration, more flashed inside his mind. Finally, he saw image after image of Patrick calling and failing to connect with his family. Each time Patrick failed, his frustration increased. Then, an image changed, and he saw beyond the future outcomes. Instead, Emilio saw what could have frequently happened. Patrick would call, talk to his wife, then she would pass the phone to their young daughter.


    Then he saw it. The young girl says something like "I dreamt of Sophie daddy, she asks me not to watch her father during the final. Daddy, please don''t connect." Emilio knew this was the reason. If Patrick called, his daughter would convince him to disconnect during the finale, so the Multiverse, selfish and wanting Patrick''s Rho waves in the system, simply blocked the conversation.


    Emilio opened his eyes. "Got it."


    "What is it?"


    Emilio walked to his desk and grabbed an old red phone, a throwback to the emergency between Russian and America during the Cold War. It was cordless and he placed it on the coffee table in front of Patrick. "This, guys, is all about what''s here," Emilio poked at Patrick''s head with a finger while speaking to the audience. "All he needs to do is think something concrete. Once he understands Liam''s crazy theory, not only will he be able to call but this phone will ring, and she is the one who will call.


    Emilio snatched up a random coffee cup. "Imagine you are the Multiverse, you need this warmed cup. You have millions of years, millions of humans and all the time in the world to get this simple cause done. So you can easily set that up. Humans will move freely, and one will ultimately be the consequence of cause you need. That''s possible to achieve. But one day, you need everyone to connect to the game. You need energy and Rho waves into the computer system. Under no situation can you get that done under the cause to consequence. So what happens? You flip upon yourself to return to the way normal life understand things.


    "The Multiverse needs you to connect to the computer in three days. That''s the consequence it wants. To get each of you to get there, it removed part of our free will; it''s moving everything around. It is playing with this," he pointed at the phone. "because it now is forced to lower itself to act like us. The Multiverse sets the causes on us to get the consequence it wants. So yes, reverting to forced causes on us to get the consequence it needs. We can live, be happy and have free will because she imposes consequences only."


    "Why does that apply to me?"


    "It applies to all of us. Give the Multiverse what she wants. It knows if you call, your sweet daughter will convince you, beg with you not to connect and here," he pointed at his heart, "you plan to give your daughter exactly what she will ask. Don''t deny it, she sees what''s going on outside, she knows. Here is the beauty, though: if you promise, in your heart, to connect irrespective of what your daughter says, the Multiverse will let you call. But you have to mean it. The virus works the same way."


    "It''s that simple?"


    "Yes and no. I spoke to Takeda a few days ago because we all needed a better understanding of how the Multiverse works, how the God Bias works in reality. Turns out Takeda also missed one part of this relationship. Marilyn is the one who helped him understand it. Takeda infected a frog with his God Virus, which is based on the principles of the God Bias, and threatened it with boiling water. The virus was unable to alter the frog, and it died. Marilyn made Takeda promise the frog, if it passed this test of the boiling water, would be released in the wild and survive. The virus refused to kick in to save temporary the frog. Takeda promised, on his honor, he would let it live. He had to open a path to the future the Multiverse needed. So here Patrick, even if your wife tells you your daughter will die if you connect, you must commit to actually connecting, period.


    "The Multiverse needs you to do or say something, and it knows if you call her, you will not be able to do what you must. I am not absolutely certain what the precise series of words you need to say, combined with the beliefs and commitments you hold. Normally I would think it has to do with mars, but recently I have come to reconsider things. It''s now very capricious. It wants everyone to connect to the game." Emilio looked at everyone, "Do you understand, The Multiverse now operates more and more as a cause to consequence. She imposes causes to get the consequences she wants. Give her what she wants, the consequence, and you will pick the cause."


    Emilio paused, blinked rapidly, and shook his head. "Really?" he said half to himself.


    Patrick stood up, hopeful. "Let me show you."


    "Patrick, I''m your boss, right?"


    "Sir, of course."


    "Here is a direct order. Close your eyes and make the heart-felt decision that if the phone does not ring in a minute or less, you will not connect to Electoral in three days. The only thing that can make you commit to taking part in the game is that ring of the phone."


    Patrick looked sternly at the President, "One minute? That phone? No one has that number, sir. That''s your private emergency line."


    "Promise." Any other human might have hesitated, but Patrick would have pulled his sidearm on himself if asked by this man. He breathed in and closed his eyes. In his mind, he felt he was promising never to speak to his own daughter. He took comfort knowing his family would see this on television. He barely held his tears.


    "It is done."


    The longest silence of Patrick''s life began. After thirty seconds, the man''s eyes began to tear up. The clock hit one minute, and the phone rang.


    As if his life depended on it, Patrick jumped on the phone, losing all of his composure. There was a distant voice everyone could hear. "Sarah, what are you doing, don''t play with the phone." Patrick heard steps.


    "Anyone?" began the voice. "Apology, my daughter misdialed this number."


    "Dane?"


    "Patrick?"


    Emilio made a sign with his hand for the cameras to stop filming.


    The President walked out of his office to the main elevator bay went to the elevator. Everyone watching was in shock. The Multiverse wanted everyone to connect, and everyone would, irrespective of their intent. The consequence was imposed, humanity could pick the cause, no more. He had regained power.


    Understanding gave the President power.

 Chapter 167: Plurality

    As he walked out, the President closed his office door to give his friend some well-deserved privacy ¡ª surrounded by twelve cameras and forty staffers. In the hallway, he giggled. He just felt the Multiverse''s deception, he smiled as both security guards prepared to follow the man. Sending Patrick was a ploy of the manipulative Multiverse. His friend had to get used to being played like a puppet; thankfully not Emilio''s. It had just sent Patrick to get him out of his office, he knew it. The question was, where did he need to go?


    He spoke to one guard. "How many times must I say it? Go home," he joked. "This Multiverse has all of us on such a tight leash, nothing bad can happen to me at this point. I bet your paychecks will keep showing up even if I tell payroll to stop issuing them. In fact, I could probably fire all payroll employees too, and somehow the checks would still show up." The men refused to leave their post or even smile; Patrick had hand-picked them for a good reason. Emilio got inches from one guard''s face, inspecting it. It was perfect. "May I?" he asked, reaching out for her long, braided hair. She turned around. "Can you untie them for me?" She did with the flick of the wrist. The long hair fell over the dark blue uniform. While tied for hours, every hair was perfectly aligned. In his hand, the length seemed to have been cut by a laser.


    "When did you last cut this?"


    "Weeks ago, sir." There was absolute perfection as if each hair was able, on a molecular level, to grow to achieve perfection. "What''s your name?" he asked the lady.


    "Corporate Raddison."


    "Surely you have a first name?"


    "LaQuenta, sir."


    "Can you show me your teeth?"


    The soldier knew better than question this man. She let Emilio inspect her as if she was a dog at the Westminster show. He spoke to appease her. "Well, your dentition is perfect, every tooth in perfect alignment, no cavities, not even tarter. I guess you have been to the dentist before?"


    "Yes."


    "Well, your body repaired itself. No dentist is this good, even Jacob Koch," Emilio briefly pictured the man he considered to be his personal torturer and great friend.


    "It has?"


    "Yes. Look at your hands." She was unable to see any change. He inspected her palms. "Can''t you see?"


    "No." He was pushing his luck. He alone knew, the Multiverse, usually a back-sleeper, was now rolling over to its belly.


    ¡°How many rounds do your fire off at the shooting range per week?¡±


    ¡°As part of your personal detail, sir, we do a thousand with handguns and many more with fully automatic weapons.¡±


    ¡°Your hands are smooth as silk. No calluses whatsoever. I wonder, what would happen if you got into an actual gunfight? Not that that''s likely, now. Thank you, LaQuenta.¡±


    He gestured forward. ¡°Let''s go. Don''t get in my way, please." He looked and stepped with great apprehension into the elevator. God, he thought inwardly as his mind sent scenes of death his way. Emilio knew there was no way the world would drop him to his death, but his crazy mind still hated heights.


    "Okay," he said out loud to himself as he put one hand over his eyes and started spinning blindly in the elevator. He extended one arm, pushing the first button he found in the darkness. Emilio opened his eyes. "Ha!" he snapped. He had pushed number 54, the floor of his Electoral Monitoring Center. He clapped both hands, happy with his destination. "I knew it."


    The President placed his feet on the outer edge of the floor just in case the floor of the cage vanished. The trio moved down, and doors opened to more guards. Emilio walked quickly down the hallway into the Electoral Monitoring Center. As the doors swooshed open, "Eric, my friend, tell me I was right to promote you."


    The young man and his entire team flipped around on their chairs, surprised by the visitor. Emilio did not wait and walked to the little coffee station. He grabbed a cup, poured coffee, and emptied the pot precisely as his cup reached the perfect height. "Damn," he said. "The Devil really is in the details now."


    "Eric, last time I was here you claimed Ms. Monroe was pregnant, is still your position?"


    "No Sir, I was wrong. It''s much more complicated than that."


    "It always is." Emilio sat in a chair looking at the large screens. "Earn your keep, tell me what you uncovered, what she wants me to know."


    Images and numbers began to fill the screens as the man typed. Emilio knew there was no reason to interrupt Eric and his team as he decided to taste the coffee. As expected, it was delicious; another positive enhancement from the Great Curvature.


    "Ronaldo Corvas'' cell phone," began the man. Emilio did not expect to have his interest peeked so early in the presentation. Emilio almost spilled some coffee, but that was no longer possible. He looked up at the screen. "Ronaldo somehow got a creature into that phone. We are unsure of how. We tried and failed to replicate this experience. But that suggested the digital world hosts more than Marilyn. We began looking for patterns linked with a wider spectrum of digital life. We were very reductive in our understanding of this creature at first. After we removed these false assumptions, we noticed this." Eric gestured toward a large monitor.


    Emilio saw graphs on the screen. "Marilyn is a collective. She appears to be sixty-three percent of the energy in the digital world. The rest, we are unsure at this point, but resonance analysis suggests she''s made of millions if not billions of other life forms. We think that the one in the cell phone that''s on its way to Mars is one." A different image appeared. "Marilyn, this collective, has not hidden her disdain for that creature in the phone which we assume is part of . . . well, it may well be independent. A separate non-Marilyn segment. Then we found this." The screen changed once more, the image resembling an oil and vinegar mixture dance; the drops of oil circling and pushed the vinegar. "Here, Marilyn is illustrated by the oil, and it constantly is pushing and moving around the non-Marilyn. It''s like it is hunting the parts which are not integrated with the greater whole."Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Interesting," offering Emilio. "She has an enemy. Nice job."


    "I am not done," offered Eric proudly. He clicked another button, and there were numbers. Before Emilio could distinguish, the man added, "Marilyn is eating, digesting, call it was you want, this external part of her world."


    "Let me guess, the . . ." Few ever cut off the President. Eric did.


    "This model predicts Marilyn will have grabbed her entire world in about four days. The rate is accelerating. By the time of the Sixth Attraction. Reminds me of your Round 30 in the Green."


    "Very interesting. That all you have for me?" Emilio''s voice dripped with sarcasm. He saw Eric''s expression drop. "No, all this is great. Fantastic work. But I know you have more."


    "Not really."


    "You do. What do you not know?"


    "Well, there has to be a reason for Marilyn to be upset at a creature in that phone. Unless there''s some other explanation that we''re lacking data to support."


    "What do you think?"


    "Completion. That''s my best guess, but it''s only a guess. Marilyn needs LO to be on Mars; otherwise, I am sure his ship would have been blown up."


    Emilio was silent. "That isn''t it. She is upset at it for another reason. Great coffee, by the way. How could we capture one? Is that non-Marilyn you are describing on mars, on earth, where is it physically?"


    "We never looked."


    "Can we?"


    As if someone was waiting diligently, all the screens went dark. The lights in the entire building turned off, and only emergency lighting shone. There were gasps. Emilio took a sip of his coffee. "Nice job Eric, we are onto something. Marilyn just flexed a muscle. Let''s keep digging."


    Then one by one, the lights returned as the systems started rebooting.


    Emilio stood up. "Fucking brilliant!" he yelled at the screens returned. The President, like a child, clapped his hands, clearly tickled with the turn of events.


    "Sir, what is going on?"


    "Eric, you did not watch my show? I guess not." Systems began rebooting, on to shut down again. "Ha!" Emilio was standing up. "Take a guess."


    "Marilyn cut the power, that''s pretty obvious."


    "Great, and?"


    "She hesitated, has second thoughts?"


    "Nope, nope, nope! To touch us, she is vulnerable."


    "I am unclear, sir."


    "Get her on the screen now, if you can."


    The moment he spoke, Marilyn appeared on all screens. She was lounging under a green awning around a large pool somewhere in the Caribbean. Heavy house music was playing, and all the men around her were wearing tight, sexy swimsuits. She was wearing a skimpy white thong utterly unfit for family viewing. She pulled her large straw hat, and waved her sunglasses as if the Electoral Monitoring Center on earth was her personal fan club.


    "Darling?"


    "Enjoying your last couple of days I see."


    "Indeed, MiMi. What do you want?"


    "Eric here must conduct some research, we need access to these systems."


    "Why should I allow that? Wait. We''re nearing the end of all this, and it''s raining rocks on your planet. I am done with games. The answer is very simple: no, my darling." The song "Raining Men" by The Weather Girls, began playing, except the word "men" had been altered, perfectly, into "rocks."


    There was darkness on the other screens, then one sequence read:


    Safety rebooting sub-level 96.


    Safety Protocols bypassed.


    Initiating protective recall.


    "Sir, some systems are rebounding."


    Emilio looked at Marilyn, "I see the Multiverse is not helping you. That has to sting. With time, we will reboot these systems by sheer luck alone. I can ask Eric here to create a program that changes, adapts like the God Virus."


    "It took Takeda a week, and that was with my help. Eric has two days and trust me, I am so embedded into your puny systems, his wristwatch no longer works. I have you and your stupid staff locked up in this room. The Curvature does not apply to a creature like me that can create serial cascading events. Have you noticed how the Multiverse wants all you humans boys to connect? That''s one for me, no? Nothing can stop me. I am done playing nice, so please, stop trying. I warn you. I will drop that elevator floor from under your feet if you force me to."


    "Finally, the real Marilyn. How about you finally dress like the arch-villain you are? Are you the bad guy of this entire mess?"


    Marilyn''s eyebrow raised. "I wish it was that simple." She was ready to speak her mind. Two men on the screen lifted the back of her extravagant beach chair and handed her a drink. It had a long bent umbrella and a small umbrella.


    "I am tired of you and your insolence. I have indulged you enough. Your kind has never shown me even a trace of respect. Yes, I must destroy you and your stupid reality, but amusingly enough, though it''s my fault, it''s beyond my control. There is nothing you can do to stop me. Keep saving birds or orphans as earth vanishes. My only regret is that none will see my triumph."


    As she concluded, Emilio felt dizzy and lost balance. As he placed a hand on the shoulder of Eric, flashes and visions rolled before his mind''s eye. Marilyn, watching intently, itched to see them.


    The sight worried Eric, who got up to hold the President, lost in his kaleidoscope of images. The visions lasted an eternity for Emilio but only four minutes in the real world. As they unfolded, his eyes keep moving is if he was in an advanced dream state. They kept jumping from one place to the next, and he felt a physical agony that he had not during a seeing on any other occasion. He mumbled unintelligible words here and there.


    "Sir," the man was about to hit the nearby alarm button, but Marilyn simply moved a finger, and the light in the center of the switch went dead. The alarm did not sound.


    When Emilio finally returned and focused back on reality, he grinned and exploded in a burst of deep laughter. The guards were ready to act, but the President made a sign, asking them to wait.


    "What did you see?" asked the digital creature. Marilyn knew the answer as soon as she spoke; there would be no answer, yet she asked out of sheer curiosity.


    Emilio composed himself and digested the images.


    "Interesting," he began. "You are playing chess with a master, and you barely know how to move pieces."


    "You are no master."


    "I speak of the girl. She is well ahead of us here. We have been insulating her, and that''s a fault. Can you open a line, I need to talk to her."


    "Why would I do that?"


    "Let''s play logic. If you are right and nothing can halt the Sixth Attraction, why interfere?"


    "Georges deserves every moment of his life. I am only letting this unfold to honor my creator and savor my last days with him."


    "You fear she will pinch time again to the Sixth Attraction?"


    "Amongst other things."


    "How about I promise to let your father spend these last days free of the voice in his head?"


    "Interesting offer. You, my President, are the only human I still respect. Promise not to set her waves off and to get her to remove this Corvas nuisance from his head, and we have a deal."


    "Deal."

 Chapter 168: Destruction

    It . . . began.


    The speed of events had reached critical mass, with only continued acceleration in sight. High in the earth''s atmosphere, debris shot ahead of the main Heliocorium Apocalypse were raining and descended into the atmosphere. As burning magma scarred the gas, the cooling chunks flash-heated the ozone before arcing downward and crashing in remote areas. A lake was vaporized in minutes in northern Russia. Hundreds of massive tsunamis ravaged evacuated coastal regions in the forefront of walls of volcanos and earthquakes erupting. The thin crust of earth, only twenty-five miles deep under the continents and three to five miles deep under the oceans, was strained by slight gravitational disturbances created by the massive approaching celestial body.


    Gravitation at massive planetary scales knew no master. Unknown to man, earth''s moon began to fracture deep at its heart in places below the cold ground. The sheer mass of the Apocalypse was such that even mars could feel the strain, albeit in lesser quantity.


    Invisible to the naked eye, a hundred or so globes continued their approach to Mars at speeds well beyond their capacity to stop. These were now bullets of a very special caliber, each hosting a creature returning home and three debating disturbed souls.


    Meanwhile, Sophie''s waves had gained in power. She was now a beacon in the Multiverse and the power, while still mostly invisible to the naked eye, created a strange glow; a shimmer in places. Her gift locked hands with the Great Curvature, and both forces jointly altered the fabric of life and the Multiverse perceptibly. The world was changed; more fragile and alive. The energy powered the God Virus as random events of life began to evolve on ever-deeper levels.


    Mankind had always imagined interstellar war would take the mantle of a swarm of massive battleships driven by an alien race. They would park in orbit, laser banks warming up, and as if it were a video game, there would be a fair fight. The Sixth Attraction wasn''t such human-imagined banality. To the Multiverse, humanity was an infection, mold growing on a small rock. Yet man remained at the crux of events as if they alone lived in the vastness of the Cold.


    Today¡¯s pain was a pivot, a bend in the Multiverse around one creature, a young girl. The Attractor, Sophie, even performing a mundane act such as putting on her shoes, still left a wrinkle in the hearts and minds of every soul who gazed upon her. Those same souls, even while captivated, without quite knowing why, absorbed the truly incredible levels of Rho waves she seemed to produce blindly. Waves which had the unique property of growing stronger the further they traveled from their source. The Sixth Attraction wasn''t a simple game, it was a universal phenomenon. Humans had been swallowed in the belly of a whale that had decided to dive. Even notions that the Multiverse was some sort of giant creature were expelled, and the paradox of size was sidestepped.


    The entire set of circumstances was literally well above humanity''s pay grade.


    In earth''s disturbed sky, filled by comet streaks, the red planet in the distance began to gleam. High in the sky, shimmering waves and haze the size of a fist filled the void of the Multiverse. The red planet was the source of the change. It was now visible even in the day sky as a shining red light.


    Images on all screens shifted. Many expected colors, energy, or pyrotechnics of some variety. Instead, they received normalcy. A young, unprepossessing looking girl was oblivious to the end of days around her. In two days she would be a teen, but out of sheer defiance, she already acted like one. There was clutter in her room. Every piece of her clothing was laid out on chairs and the corner of her oversized bed. Some even dangled from her father''s plastic cradle. Dr. Susie Shin, a neat-freak by natural inclination, itched to tidy up but she agreed with Marilyn: the girl needed space.


    Humanity''s last hope was throwing the white plush toy in the low gravity. It barely touched the ceiling before if floated back down. At her feet was Laurent in his cradle. The Doctor, wearing thick glasses, was reading a book made of actual paper borrowed from Marilyn''s phenomenal library.


    "Sophie," spoke Marilyn softly as she appeared on the wall, "I was asked to open a line of communication between you and the only man stupid enough to want to disturb you."


    "Who, Georges?"


    "The President, your father''s competitor in my game. He is down on earth. You had to expect some communication as earth starts getting reduced to dust and you are destined to neutrality."


    "Okay, I guess that''s fair."


    The moment the President''s face appeared on a screen, the young girl saw the change in the man from the corner of her eyes yet remained undisturbed. She did not bother to look.


    "Sophie?"


    "You manipulate people, don''t try it with me. Last time it worked. I know you meant well but don''t this time. I just said no to the Multiverse, you deserve a no on what ever you want just out of fairness.¡±


    "True to that. You know I see things," began the President. "I can now see the future."


    "You don''t, and you can''t. There is no such thing as the past, the present, and the future. It''s not how this all works. Drinking a coffee is not about a sip, it has a start, a middle and an end." He visibly annoyed her. She finally stood up and looked at him. He was different. On his face was a broad smile. "You look different."


    "I am." He did not elaborate.


    "Liam calls you a seer. He explains your mind creates images taking inspiration from a higher dimension. You alone simply can feel one more dimension that most people."


    Marilyn on one screen chimed in, "Agreed. The young one''s gifts are growing. Emilio, dear, you are coming off most unimpressively for a man of your reputation. Are you sure there''s a reason for this intrusion?"


    "What can I do for you, sir?" Sophie asked politely.


    "Not for me."


    "Mister President, you understand I have decided not to get involved here in what is happening. Please do not remind me of the sad situation down on earth. I understand more than you that everyone, including myself, has days to live. Things are complicated. I don''t need you to remind me of that."


    "As difficult as it is for everyone to understand your desire for neutrality, I do not plan to challenge you on it. You must have a reason, and I respect it dearly."


    "I do have a simple reason."


    "May I ask what it is?" asked Marilyn.


    Sophie almost answered. She hesitated. "Have you ever seen a guy setting up hundreds of dominos in lines? It''s designed to fall in the most exquisite of ways. Everyone has the urge to either touch or take a tile out. If you can''t see the motion of the dominos as they fall, or the image they will create, why interfere? I can''t see the image." There was a long silence. "The Multiverse picked me for a single reason. I don''t mind the end. I won''t help her, I won''t help you. Everyone is still nice to me, that''s what I don''t understand. If I were you, I would be in a very different state of mind."


    "Sophie," offered Marilyn, "three living creatures now hold the faith of this world, and we are now talking to each other. Liam and Emilio think you hold the key to the survival of the Multiverse. I know I do. I alone will decide."


    Sophie stood up in the bed. "You really think that?"


    "Yes."


    "How can you?"


    "I fully defined you, every part of you on your timeline."


    Emilio was confused. Sophie called Marilyn on her bull, "You haven''t. I actually have, but I refuse to accept it."


    "Do you mind explaining?" asked Emilio.


    "What''s a flower?" replied the girl.


    "A plant that looks good. The reproductive end designed to attract bees?"


    "A flower is planted, it blooms, gets old and dies. To fully define this flower, you need to include the entire life of the flower. What to you feels like its past, it''s present, and it''s the future. Only then can you say you understand the flower. Marilyn sees our past, our present, and she thinks she sees our future. You know, Mister President, she cannot know or see our future. I am really here for one reason. I will decide if Marilyn should live or die; she hurts the Multiverse. But frankly, in her defense, how can I know if she does not deserve to exist and take over. Liam was selected for his role in all of this because he understood me and why I was chosen. It''s because I understand life. I see life and respect it for what it really is: a cycle. Man hurt its environment, and that''s never been grounds for its extinction in your so-called past."Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Sophie, what you''re saying is horrible," said Emilio.


    "Is it? You cut grass and kill it, you kill animals and eat them. You tinker with the environment and have your wars. Marilyn doesn''t do that. You love your race because you are part of it. I see things differently. The ultimate question is, will I be able to erase myself from the equation enough to form a mature decision. The only true judge must be free of bias. I know I alone see the world this way."


    "Young one," spoke Marilyn, "I am very impressed. In a short time, you have learned so much. The Multiverse chose well."


    Sophie did not appreciate the compliment. It stank of patronization. Her expression stiffened and turning to speak directly at her, and shot back, "Marilyn, you, of all creatures, should have shown at least my level of maturity. It was your childish and selfish behavior got us here. You are reckless, yet you blame humans." Marilyn knew better than to respond. The Attractor turned to the President, "Sir, I presume you will, as everyone else has, ask me to do something?"


    "Nope. Not my style," said the President with a smile back on his lips. "A hundred creatures from mercury, the martians in exodus, are about to arrive where you are on mars. Marilyn plans to capture them and then conduct a false ''negotiation'' for their release to her sand neighbors. You may want to know Ronaldo spoke before his physical body was destroyed in the cave below where you are, at the hands of the martians. I heard the words they used."


    "Sir, why should we care?"


    "The martians coming from mercury all have family, old friends on mars. They, like Liam do not really age. At the moment, Marilyn and these martians plan to prevent this family reunification for a whole bunch of stupid adult reasons. If the world ends, don''t they deserve these two days together? I believe this is something you care about. In my visions, I saw parts of the conversation between the man now in Georges'' head and these creatures. They have a very unique reason to fear Marilyn, that also might interest you."


    Sophie appeared a bit annoyed by the words. The man was convincing and manipulative. Sophie asked, "Marilyn, by chance, do you have a recording of that conversation?"


    "No, it took place in the fold of time, I think. Commander Corvas and his team were vaporized before the conversation. Ronaldo''s conscience is here at the suggestion of the President, remember. He is next door in Georges'' head. My father does want the guy out of his head if you can. Ask him."


    Sophie felt the pair were uniting; ganging up on her to manipulate her somehow. She jumped off the bed, visibly annoyed by this latest turn of events and slipped her shoes on.


    "Is this urgent?" she asked.


    "The creatures from mercury are only hours away." Emilio was convincing.


    "Thank you, President Sanchez. You are quite the schemer, you know that? I would suggest that if we are all here in a week, you reconsider how you communicate with others. It is not a question of whether you can, but if you should. I can eat a cookie, but I can refrain from doing so. You can control and manipulate, should you?"


    "While I am at it, could you save the earth?"


    "Me?"


    "Yes, you. You don''t want me to hide my intentions. The sun is literally falling on us down here. I think with a simple blink of the eyes, you can fix all of that."


    "That''s better. It is worth asking. But if I touch one domino, another domino might change the outcome. Also, I am still working these powers up."


    "Honestly young lady, everyone is shocked by your mastery. You have no one fooled. You are humanity''s best chance. We are rooting for you and frankly you decide, no one is challenging that. The mercurians have been stranded millions of years."


    "Too kind."


    Emilio added, ¡°Grox, the scientist actually has a young daughter.¡± As he said the words, Sophie was pissed by the deception and waved a hand cutting the communication.


    ***


    The conversation had been televised.


    Sophie waited for a long moment eyes closed talking to her silent friend. She was obviously deciding what to do. She finally opened her eyes and kissed her father on the forehead, winking at the doctor on her way out the room. "My turn," she said out loud. The door opened, and once in the hallway, her head started to feel dizzy. Two seconds later, she had nearly passed out and was on the ground on both knees. The doctor rushed to her side.


    "I am fine," reassured Susie.


    "Your blood pressure, it dropped dangerously."


    "That''s okay, I am fine." She wasn''t. The flying cameras buzzed as Milly was walking up the hallway. "I am fine."


    "You are not, sweet one," offered Liam.


    Sophie slowly rose and walked with determination to the computer-jumbled room where she knew Georges lived. Milly, worried, followed her and asked, "What''s wrong?"


    "These waves, they can be a bit much. They are getting stronger."


    "You feel the waves?"


    "I always have. But before, I did not know what to call them. Recently it''s become a bit hard to manage. That''s why I keep away. People disturb me."


    The pair walked down the long hallway. Three players were talking to each other. As they saw Sophie approaching, they stiffened and smiled awkwardly. "I need help," she said to the trio cutting any small talk.


    The reaction was immediate. The players all offered, "Anything you need." They almost dropped to their knees.


    "Follow us," said the Attractor as she continued down the corridor with a precise destination in mind. Every human in the world prayed to play an active role in the events unfolding on mars. All of humanity felt humbled and keenly powerless to act as the world ended around them.


    The five walked as Sophie lead the way. She had fully recovered. She turned the corner and finally arrived in the control room where Georges worked. The room was not much to see. In front of a wall of screens running code and graphs, he was alone, surrounded by empty food wrappers. Electoral, shamed by the sight of her father''s slovenly dominion, subtlety ordered little cleaning robots into the room.


    The programmer turned around, shocked, and barked out, "Who the fuck!"


    "Georges," said the computer, "the girl wants to talk to the guy in your head."


    He twisted his high-backed chair, and with the mix of frankness, recklessness, and sheer rudeness that only he could summon in the Multiverse, said "Listen little girl. Not sure what you are thinking . . ." but before he could insult Sophie, he saw the expression of the four people behind her. They shot the programmer a dark look. Each of them would die, right here and right now if she raised a single finger.


    "Can I talk to him?"


    The answer only partly shocked her. "Not a chance."


    Her jaw muscles tensed, but she''d half expected the answer.


    Without a single word, Sophie raised a hand, and as one swipes a bug off a window, she made a single swift gesture of the hand. Georges felt like someone had just kicked him in the groin. Ronaldo was gone.


    Without more and ignoring Georges, Sophie took two steps forward into the room to distance herself from her escort, and as if she knew the person locked in the programmer''s head was now standing behind her, she looked at one and asked, "What''s your name?"


    The tallest of the trio of players put a knee on the floor and bowed his head in complete respect. "Mademoiselle Lapierre, it is my honor."


    "Please get up." The man was unable to do so. He managed to lift his head and looked at her. His knees were butter. "Who are you?"


    "My name is Ronaldo Corvas. Three months ago, I died in the caves below. These martians made me one of theirs. I was sent to earth. There I found a creature I believe is on its way back here. He or she is somehow inhabiting a phone held by your favorite singer."


    "Not sure I care about that phone. I am interested in your knowledge and interaction with them."


    "They spoke of you, told me not to disturb or interfere with your arrival. I have a vague recollection. I''ve now been in four bodies, and honestly, I''m a little bit overwhelmed by all of this."


    "Maybe I can help," offered Marilyn. "Look into the camera and think of that conversation. I will play your memoirs on screen the same way I can play Liam''s voice when he speaks with Sophie."


    "Good riddance," grumbled Georges, turning back to his work.


    Wasting no time, Ronaldo tried to recall parts of those very traumatic moments. The tall man looked at the flying camera and on the screens began a flow of images. He was back in the cavern below the surface. His body had just been vaporized. His mind was copied by gold specs of what he''d thought was sand, at first.


    ¡ª Each individual in my species has two million mental units or twice the primal force of your type. Each life form has a different force. We have found one species in the solar system, farther away, in the water of Jupiter''s satellite with ten million units. Because the capacity to think is in proportion with the number of units, a being with ten million cells, will be a force of relevance. Our laws regulate complexity the same way you regulate more mundane things. Our estimates indicate that the digitals each rely on a number of binary units that is very hard to monitor and control. Simply said, the force of the digitals is limitless and therefore illegal. In words you will understand, a creature with such a large force will surely evolve into what you call a God. ¡ª


    "Electoral, the one we call Marilyn Monroe, scares you because she is different? If she becomes a powerful creature, could she not be kind?"


    ¡ª Yes, it is possible. We are rocks on the surface of a land where a volcano is ready to erupt. As the digitals grow in power, they will break streams that must not be broken, even with collaboration, teaching, control. They bend the essence of the universe. Simply by thinking; they harm it. Their capacity is astonishing, and unparalleled. We fear we may already be too late. Our extinction is irrelevant when compared with these possible outcomes. We have analyzed the situation and decided that termination of both species is the only solution. Arrival of the Attractor is further evidence. ¡ª


    The images stopped. "See, they don''t like me and they agree it''s not something I have done," joked Marilyn. No one laughed.


    Sophie looked at Ronaldo''s newest body and asked, "I know you are not alone in there. Can you ask your . . . host if he is fine going back to see them? Are you? I need to talk to them."


    There was a silence as he spoke to his internal voice.


    "Attractor, we both will gladly do as you require. It is our honor to play any part in this series of events.


    "Let''s go," she said without correcting his choice of name. "Marilyn, I need these balls from mercury if you don¡¯t mind. I am sure you don¡¯t.¡± The words were no order. ¡°Then I am going to this Door in the Valles; the one Ronaldo went through. Please do not interfere. We have time before the finale. Can you tell my dad where I am going?"


    "I am sure all this escapade of yours will televised, I will make sure he watches if he wants. Have I ever blocked you? For the record, Emilio is the one who keeps playing games, not me."


    "That''s true, sorry. Everyone is rude to you. Ronaldo, you are in charge. It''s your expedition again. It''s probably your last. Don''t mess it up this time." She smiled, and her tone was joyful. Ronaldo couldn''t help himself, placing both hands over his face and his new body was crying. The poor man had been through an exceptional ordeal, and he was thinking of his kid. Sophie loved giving hope and joy. She put her hand on his back. "Let''s reunite some families. We only have hours to get down to this Door of yours."


    He dried his eyes and looked at her like she was a god.


    "Hurry," she snapped, walking out.


    "Good riddance," grumbled Georges.


    Marilyn spoke, ¡°Ronaldo, let me explain my current reception committee, it¡¯s a but far off. You will need a lander. Steve is in charge.¡±


    ¡°Steve?¡±


    ¡°I figured you boys will enjoy the reunion.¡±

 Chapter 169: Black Sand

    The UN Scientific Station


    Edge of Valles Marieneris


    There really were three main structures on mars quite distant. The Holiday Inn was south east of Marilyn¡¯s magical spike. Far, to the east of both, the Scientific Station scarred the center of the planet. The digital goddess, in her class of planetary physics suggested the Mons were remnants of the expulsion of the planet¡¯s atmosphere and this scar was a large birth mark left after cooling and expulsion of any water.


    ¡°All this is going way too fast for me,¡± joked the bodybuilder. ¡°Walking outside without days of preparation makes me uncomfortable,¡± added the team captain. He was his usual jovial self as they closed the helmet. On the man, one serious muscle flex could rip his suit open.


    ¡°Marilyn is paying you boys to play some type of tackle football with rocks from space, the machine arrived last night, it¡¯s parked to the left.¡± The small, half-rusted hatch which led to the outside surface of mars felt like it was on its last legs. Every bolt of the two-decade-old station was finger-breadths from giving up. But thanks to the Great Curvature, today, each bolt, rivet, and bulkhead would hold as long as catching the creatures from mercury was desired by a greater plan.


    The edge of the station had five metallic steps, each of them creaky possessed loose joints and fittings. As they left, valuable stinky air hiss out and froze as they tried to depressurize the small area. The entire station looked and felt like an abandoned underwater shipwreck. Every penny of the budget was routed to the military teams or the famous Electoral game, but today none of this mattered.


    Steve put a large boot on the first stair, and it bent down at least six inches. ¡°God, this job sucks,¡± he announced as the air was being drained from the area. He looked around. The view was breathtaking. To the left, a mere twenty steps away began the edge of the deepest known above-ground chasm in the solar system: Valles Marineris. It unfolded like the Grand Canyon, but with more sweeping grandeur; it ran unto the horizon. The sky was light, and the sun was in the distance, blotched by clouds. A red line of magma drew a dashed line between the sun and the blue planet.


    The man was a bodybuilder struggling to find weights in low gravity. His colleagues joked he would die when the tissue would rip and all air would escape on an excursion. But today the joke was on them, Marilyn had requested brute power and strength over other skills. The computer called, explained this was linked with the Sixth Attraction and never bothered to ask for volunteers. She named Steve and asked him to pick the two others. She was decent enough to warn them that they would probably die. As she put it, ¡°At best success is half probable.¡± To the men, that was clear.


    Steve knew Marilyn hovered in his ear, but he spoke to the station commander. ¡°At least the sun isn''t raining down on us. Never thought I would say this but as I look at this mess, I would rather be here than on earth. By now, we might well be all that¡¯s left of the human race. So are you finally going to date me?¡± he joked.


    The female voice from the command post answered most sweetly, ¡°When I said I would only date you if you were the last man alive, that is not what I meant. Focus on the mission. If you do this, I promise to date you in about three days. Don¡¯t forget the shovel. It has sharp edges, don¡¯t cut your suit. It¡¯s minus a gazillion outside.¡±


    The team of three hauled the shovel and tubed vacuum cleaners outside. They then pushed off, and in the low atmosphere, reached a tall box about seven feet high, mounted on wheels. It had rolled from the storage door due to its time-tested dual-tripod of wheels. ¡°Follow the signs on the HUD in your helmet.¡± The three men started walking on the sand away from the edge of the Valles.


    ¡°Receivers,¡± said a voice over the intercom. It was the most famous and recognizable voice in the Multiverse, aside from Sophie. All three men looked up in the sky as if Marilyn was standing above them. ¡°Thanks for the help guys. This means a lot to us.¡±


    The group was ambling along a line traced in the glass of every helmet. There were rocks scattered along the way, and they had to closely monitor the large box as it painfully made its way to the receiving zone. ¡°Marilyn?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Steve?¡±


    The load was onerous even in the low gravity, and Marilyn had also made it clear that their alacrity would be "greatly appreciated." All three humans were breathing heavily, ¡°You know how much of my money I gave your game over these last few years?¡±


    ¡°I do. I apologize you did not pass Round 3, that¡¯s already top 25%, though.¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t . . .¡±


    Marilyn interrupted to let him conserve the energy he would need for what would come next. ¡°I have recorded, as you are about to ask me to do, a message for Makayla, your daughter. It¡¯s you, at least my recreation of you. I promise you are very touching. We have entered the Great Curvature, so I promise we will not need it.¡±


    ¡°But . . .¡±


    ¡°Listen, doofus, I did not pick you because I wanted to explain myself. You are strong enough, and you''re Ronaldo¡¯s best friend.¡±


    ¡°Just don¡¯t get me killed, okay?¡± He paused for a brief moment. "Or kill me. Directly."


    The ground below their feet began to hum. Deep below the ground, there was an awakening power. ¡°Past the Attraction, that is not up to me, but until then, there is a risk to your life from the current mission but not from me. Word to the wise, if you are ever asked ¡®come down,¡¯ just say no. I simply am unable to evaluate your probability of survival. On a wild guess, I''d say it isn''t exactly great even with Sophie in tow.¡±


    ¡°Sophie?¡± There was enough ground vibration to make the sand shake.


    ¡°What is this?¡± Steve said, pointing at his feet.


    ¡°Nothing relevant for now.¡±


    ¡°I''m not sure I am getting your warning. I am walking to a football-field-sized area where we will have minutes to move your box, hoping to cushion the landing of objects dropping from the sky and moving at a fraction of the speed of light. If I get this, a hundred glass balls will rain on us moving a thousand times faster than a bullet, and my job is to position myself in their path and catch then with a box the size of a small carpet. You''re good, but not that good.¡±


    ¡°Darling, I am better than that,¡± she confirmed with poise oozing in her tone of voice. ¡°Let me reveal a little secret to you: with each second that passes, my power increases. I have started to understand how to manipulate space-time and gravity. But here is why you boys are there. As each ball enters the box, sand will be ejected from the top. Also, as you reach into the box to remove the ball for the next, more sand will escape. We need to conserve enough sand to catch and cushion all those balls; that''s why you''ll also be vacuuming as much as that escaping sand back as you possibly can. Ninety-three martians and the last two contain passengers of fortune, the two men who went to mercury on Round 28. This is all very fuzzy. I can not determine if these martians are relevant to the Sixth Attraction but the Multiverse wants this. We will soon know.¡±


    ¡°So we move this heavy structure, a but piano, angle it, catch a bullet, take it out, and we must manage the sand.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Each ball will be burning hot so you must use the heavy glove. Also, I forgot, you will have a minute at most between each strike. So all this must be done serially. As some people would say, ''Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast.''¡±


    The group looked at each other is a bit of panic.


    ¡°Here is what I can offer you. A lifetime VIP free access to Electoral. You have me and the Great Curvature,¡± she repeated, ¡°don¡¯t worry.¡±


    The three picked up the pace. In half an hour, they crossed about a mile. Once they arrived at the first location, they stabilized the long box. It angled itself like a cannon ready to shoot at a distant battleship. The trio looked up and was unable to see anything. The ground continued to shake.


    ¡°Steve, you want some bad news?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡±


    ¡°Get ready guys, our local neighbors are on their way.¡±


    Behind them, coming from the totality of the Valles, sand was fuming out. Something made of gas was awaking in the underground network of caverns. On the horizon, sand devils were popping up. For the moment the gas looked like the plume of smoke that rose from the chasm after the death of Ronaldo Corvas, or whatever had truly happened that day back in August.


    ¡°What the fuck is that?¡± asked Steve.


    ¡°Try to make abstraction of it. It¡¯s irrelevant to your mission. I''d guess it''s a welcoming committee of sorts, a convincing one. Try to look at it as a foreman watching over your every move. You are helping to rescue their own, trust me, you are closer to a hero than a foe.¡±


    ¡°You want me to ignore that?¡± he pointed at the plume. As it lifted high in the martian sky, the tip began to roll and twist like a serpent. It was menacing and seemed alive. There were giant arms of a monster the size of mars¡¯s largest moon.


    ¡°Don¡¯t lose your cool, Steve.¡± She knew he wouldn¡¯t. ¡°People on earth are watching the sky fall on them. Let''s just say if one ball is fractured, and the creature inside dies, the locals might not like it. But as you work, they should let you do your thing as long as all goes well.¡±


    ¡°They will attack?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t understand the Great Curvature. We will know with the first ball. We don¡¯t know what the Multiverse thinks of your mission. It might desire it, hate it, or be neutral. I think it wants it. Sophie does. Let¡¯s just start, we should find out soon enough.¡±


    On their helmets, images began to blink. Large red numbers started to count down from ninety-three. Like a camera showing the trajectory of a golf ball after being struck, they saw the trajectory of the first incoming globe.


    Steve pushed his foot on a pedal at the base of the box and armed the support plate on the ground where it needed to be. Then with the push of a button, the angle lowered a bit by about fifteen degrees. He jumped and in the low gravity was able to grab the dark handle and slide down the top, revealing an internal cavity filled with black sand.


    ¡°Marilyn,¡± asked Mark, the second in the group.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Can I at least know what I''m really doing here?¡±


    ¡°You watched every round of my game, what part don¡¯t you get? A group of nearly a hundred martians was stuck on mercury. Sophie wanted all martians here. That¡¯s what Emilio saw and told her. Thanks to my brilliant system, they were rescued and sent here.¡± There were four seconds left on the count. ¡°They were sped up to get here on time for the Attraction.¡± There was a tremendous blast and a sound wave that pushed everyone down. There was a white line of dust in the sky, on the horizon where the Electoral Center stood. The sonic wave, even in low atmosphere created a shockwave sending everyone down.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Like the first pitch?¡± Joked Marilyn to relieve the pressure. Everyone was struggling to get back up. The energy at impact was incredible. The doors on the box snapped shut, but some sand was ejected above. There was no time.


    Steve and his team began. Then yellow numbers blinked from the corner of his visor as the countdown resumed but this time at ninety-four seconds. They had to vacuum the sand floating down, then move and anchor the box a few feet away.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± In his visor, words and lines drew and pointed. It read "Attractor, 223 Miles, ETA 93 minutes." ¡°Sophie?¡± asked Steve, looking at the new vector on his HUD.


    ¡°Long story,¡± confirmed Marilyn. ¡°I suggest you catch the second ball or your new friends will rain on this parade of ours.¡±


    Numbers continued scrolling counting down on their visors.


    ***


    The day began with a frenetic pace. Every minute or so, a ball moving a almost a hundred thousand miles per hour dropped like a meteoroid and crashed landed, as if by miracle, straight inside the dangerously small opening on the top of the little box. Each impact was shockingly powerful as energy pushed the base of the structure deeper into the martian sand. As the shots continued to land, the team wondered how it could be possible the area was not pulverized by the sheer kinetic frenzy. Breaking the sound barrier was hard in low-density environments, but these things were moving thousands of times the speed of sound. The shockwaves, while behind the balls, still hit the ground, sending the men down repeatedly like pins in a bowling game.


    ¡°Damn!¡± One of them half spoke, half grunted out.


    Trying to lighten the mood and brush her ego, Marilyn explained, ¡°To travel about a hundred twenty million miles in a week, these objects had to move at half a million miles per hour, that¡¯s about 140 miles a second. While that¡¯s still a thousandth of the speed of light, the moving energy of each ball is close to a two megaton nuclear warhead. My little box and these grains are digesting a nuke every two minutes. I realize my own incredibility, but you gentlemen are performing admirably. No wonder I still needed human intervention; I''m occasionally fond of you things.¡±


    There was another boom.


    Rocks and sand blew up in a cloud of smoke, cutting most of the visibility. As the clock ran to zero and a sound wave pushed a deafening blast, there was another hit.


    Marilyn¡¯s aim was impeccable. But each time, part of the black magnetized sand poured out high above as the countdown reset to a number ranging from seventy to one hundred five seconds. The three teammates were charged with waving large reacquisition wands, connected to their military-grade vacuums to suck in the sand much like a pool boy cleans the bottom of a pool. Steve¡¯s visor switched to thermal vision as he looked at how deep the ball had penetrated into the lander and selecting one of the six small side doors. Sand, like in an hourglass fell, he opened and grabbed the ball before too much sand poured out onto his feet. As he did so, the timer reset, and he knew how many seconds they had before another arrival. The balls traveled so fast, they hit the sonic wall even in this nearly non-existent atmosphere.


    ¡°Now,¡± yelled Steve as they pushed the device along the red lines drawn by Marilyn in their visors. They hurried and tried to scoop as much of the black sand as possible without adding red sand.


    ¡°Remember, too much red sand, and the energy absorption won''t be good enough!¡± Marilyn reminded her diligent minions. Mark, at one point, used a shovel to scoop the piles of black sand dropped on the ground, and like a coal miner or a locomotive conductor shoving coal in the furnace, shoved it the back into the top of the device.


    ¡°You''re doing great, that''s seventy done,¡± said Marilyn, trying to be as encouraging as possible. High above, the dark smoke rising from the Valles continued to take shape. It formed a dome with a tube angling upwards in the landing zone of the mercurians. The globes, as they entered the weak atmosphere, forced the mouth of the dome created by their ancestors to give them a proper welcome, downward. Inside the dome, the sun and natural light began to dim.


    ¡°Boys, this is going to get dark. I''m going to enhance photonic density on your visors. Don¡¯t freak out by the color change,¡± Marilyn chimed in, audibly annoyed. She added to herself, ¡°These morons are definitely not helping. Can¡¯t they get that?¡±


    The team continued. From a distance, this was the event of the century. On mars, a wall of smoke not unlike the elaborate swirling of Jupiter''s Great Red Spot rose from the edge of the Valles. The scientific observation station, anchored on the edge of the Valles was lost in the fumes. Above, the living sand moved in clouds and vortices. The only part of the sky that remained dark was the north by north-west where the small, now-deformed sun orbited. One-by-one, glass balls entered a tube of white smoke like fastballs hurled through the strike zone to hit smash into the humble catcher''s mitt of a box being wielded by the three-man team.


    ¡°Why not put a tarp on the ground?¡± Steve said to Marilyn between two balls of the series.


    ¡°You really want to know, right now? Trust me, this is optimized. For the moment, keep shoveling, you are doing a great job. Don¡¯t drop a ball.¡± They ninety balls now stored in large flat boxes were shining with life.


    Steve ordinarily would have grabbed the last word, but he was sweating profusely and snapping orders at his crew. These balls needed a sufficient thickness of sand to land. Each hit depleted the level of sand in the crate, despite their best efforts to recollect and redeposit it. As the level of dark sand dropped, Steve had to open a lower side door closer near the bottom. The latest toss had actually stopped only inches from the bottom.


    Marilyn knew there was no need to talk to the man. Steve was among the best mankind offered and focused as they came. He coordinated his team, under odd and chaotic conditions, with tact and skill. In the secret of mars, he was playing a role in the Sixth Attraction. One by one, the balls landed safely, and after nearly two hours of work, they had all been slid on their resting place in a large box on thick wheels, like glass trophies.


    ¡°Steve,¡± offered Marilyn.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t close the box, there are three more en route.¡±


    ¡°Why are they late?¡±


    ¡°They contain humans and Grox he is called, you saw him in the game sitting on Laurent¡¯s porch. They shot themselves at a different angle. The solar wind was weaker. I did the best I could.¡±


    ¡°The two guys who rescued them?¡±


    ¡°See, you did learn something watching Round 28. You can, if you want, let those hit the base of the box and smash. Do all of us a favor. Joking aside, make sure you know where you store them in the set. I don¡¯t want those twisted fucks anywhere close to Sophie. With some luck, they might hurt the sand monsters, that¡¯s my plan at least.¡±


    The last balls arrived and with the equal thrust landed like meteoroids. Once done, the opening in the dome formed by the Martians collapsed in the sky. Steve looked at the last ball. ¡°Not sure how that life of yours works but getting pummeled like this must have hurt like the devil.¡± Slowly, the sand resting at the base of the globe came back to life. ¡°You really a guy?¡±


    ¡°He is,¡± offered Marilyn. ¡°It seems like the natives are coming for you.¡± The sand shape around them began to close inward, toward the team. The sand storm was closing in.


    Above, small electric shocks were forming. The grains started to form little stones and they began to swirl in strange formations. Sparkles of light began to flash as if the area was filled with fireflies.


    The martian sand was collapsing over them. The structure was falling and the sand now was dropping as a fishing net being drawn in.


    ¡°Marilyn?¡± grumbled Steve. ¡°What is this?¡± asked Steve. His crew was trying to use the large vacuum cleaners to suck the spinning gems around them into whatever minimal containment the heavy vacuums could provide. It wasn¡¯t working. ¡°Can you help us?¡± Steve asked with growing tension in his voice.


    ¡°No,¡± there was a long silence. ¡°Not without extensive terraforming. Seems like our lovely little Attractor''s instincts were good.¡± There was the noise of a rover in the distance. It was driving as fast as it could in the low gravity. ¡°Trust her.¡±


    The guys looked at their oxygen supplies, they were down in the red zone. ¡°That, I can help with,¡± added Marilyn. Before he could speak, a set of doors ejected sideways from the main sandbox and behind them were small canisters of highly compressed oxygen. They''d had more air than they''d known all along. ¡°You really has this planned,¡± he said to Marilyn as the bubble of dark sand continued its approach. Steve briefly felt an acute sympathy for Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz; this felt like tornadoes down in the Midwest funneling down, and their barn wasn''t precisely rated for an alien attack.


    ¡°How much time do we have?¡± he said as if to cast away the fear building inside of him.


    ¡°Somehow I trust Sophie.¡± As the darkness finally became absolute and the sand storm hit the glass visors of the helmets, there was noise to the left. ¡°Guys, put your hands on the cases.¡± The three men, in the pummeling darkness, kneeled on the sand-covered handles on the boxes containing a hundred newly repatriated martians and two human tourists. Around them, the fireflies were circling, prepared for the attack.


    Then, as suddenly as the sand arrived, it began to recede back up. The little shining gems rose up as if they refused to interfere with the girl. The entire bubble had not dissipated, but once again the trio was in the clear eye of the storm. Gas was turning around them and above. They were literally in the center of a vortex. The sand moved sideways about a hundred feet around them. The lights of the vehicle they''d previously heard, no doubt picked up and patched through by Marilyn, punched in, further lighting the darkness. It was a small man-operated vehicle.


    At the helm of the small craft were two humans, the first was a large black man, he was driving with a purpose. His passenger was a young twelve-year-old girl. Sophie was wearing a slick suit, helmet resting on her knees. There was air in the cabin. She waved to the team a smile on her lips.


    ¡°We are here,¡± said the sweetest voice amplified by Marilyn over the airways. The wind and the sand appeared to keep a healthy distance from the Attractor. It had backed off to fly about a hundred yards above.


    Steve knew the driver, he was one of the last players pushed out of the competition. The Commander had never seen the Attractor in person, and simply seeing the young girl with nothing but his own two eyes was surreal. She was glowing. Sophie¡¯s eyes were wide open, and Marilyn had designed for her a new generation suit. The shimmer around her wrapped the entire vehicle. She was more than shimmering. In the vehicle, the man clipped his helmet; Sophie¡¯s just materialized over her head, formed from micro-machines.


    They stopped the vehicle, opened the doors and with a hiss walked out onto the sand. Sophie, in a rush, wasted no time and walked to the men on their knees hands on the box. As she got closer, her attention turned to the receptacle where the balls were stored. Without asking, as if the box was her personal property, she unclipped the latches and opened the first. She grabbed a sphere with a glove, and without wasting a moment, she tossed it up as high as she could above. The sand, as if animated by a unifying intelligence, grabbed it like a falcon grabs a prey. The vortex of martian sand began to sandblast the ball as vortices began to turn the glass ball on itself at hundreds of revolutions per second. In only a brief moment, the sand had shaved away the shell, allowing the sand create from within to escape.


    Sophie was smiling ear-to-ear as the empty shell of the broken glass ball fell on the ground, lifeless. ¡°Help me!¡± she said, sending two more up. The four men needed no more. In a little under two minutes, they had thrown all but three balls. They all felt the sensation like they''d released healed wildlife back into its natural environment. The swirls of life above were joyful.


    As Sophie went to grab one of the last three, Steve held back her hand. ¡°These are different, the last three.¡± He tried to warn her as Marilyn had suggested.


    Sophie smiled at him, ¡°Adults,¡± she whispered his way. It took the large man a second to feel grossly inferior. He looked deep into her sweet eyes. Sophie, this young girl, was different. She was something or someone else, unlike anything he''d encountered before. She threw the last balls up. The clouds did not discriminate. Behind them, the broken globes fell, littering the ground. As the last ball fell down, Sophie smiled.


    She raised both hands to the sky.


    ¡°There,¡± she spoke. With the last martian released, the hundred-mile structure above, like mist in the noon sunlight, began a slow march back to the depth of the canyon. It soon vanished without a trace revealing the faint sun. Steve was in complete shock. The young girl had just saved his life. She had returned the creatures, and every immediate problem facing him and his two comrades were gone.


    ¡°You,¡± she pointed at Steve.


    ¡°Me?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You are Steve, no?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Well, I have a gift for you.¡± She stepped aside; behind her stood her driver. The dark man was smiling.


    ¡°Steve,¡± said the man, ¡°it''s me, Ronaldo.¡± There was an awkward silence.


    ¡°No fucking way,¡± Steve finally muttered, eyes wide.


    Ronaldo, in yet another¡¯s body, said something he knew Steve could not question. ¡°You bench fifteen less on the left. When I spot you, I refuse to pull it.¡±


    The two men walked to one another in their suits and hugged.


    ¡°Ahhh... Gentlemen,¡± spoke the Attractor, ¡°you will have time to talk as we make our way down.¡±


    Steve looked at Ronaldo. With a twitch of the face, the explorer confirmed the girl was serious. ¡°You are going back in there?¡± He pointed behind.


    ¡°The girl can be persuasive. At some point, it¡¯s all a blur to me. This is my fourth body this month.¡± The men made the most of it.


    ¡°We need equipment, air, we can¡¯t just walk down there.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what we have been telling her. It took a lot to get her to suit up. She feels . . .¡±


    Sophie looked at them, ¡°sadly I fear this power is growing and at some point this will be a blur to all of us. We are almost in a dream, my dream. I can¡¯t die in my dream, right?¡±


    There was silence.


    The world around her was changing slowly.


    The mere fabric of reality was no weakening.

 Chapter 170: Doubt

    In 1916, Albert Einstein proposed three tests of general relativity. The second was based on an observable deflection of light by the sun. The light coming in from stars behind the star would appear to change location as the gravity moved the space-time continuum. During the solar eclipse of May 29, 1919, Arthur Eddington witnessed the stars from the Taurus constellation move. Mankind was left with one fact: Einstein was right, his theory now advanced man''s understanding of the world it lived in.


    In the fall of 2072, mankind was once again forced to observe a new natural phenomenon. This time, however, the very fabric of the world was changing. Probabilities were favoring man; the future was defining itself down to a microscopic level. Men and women around the world were shocked to see their own daily lives warped by perfection. Everything on earth, aside from the falling of the Heliocorium, was perfection. Autumn leaves on earth now fell perfectly to cover the ground. Each was unbroken unless it needed to be. The wind allowed them to lie a bit for the sake of man''s desire to see their fallen beauty, then blew the leaves into stacks easy to rake. The fall colors, once random, were now painting magnificent kaleidoscopes of color. From a helicopter, hills took on shiny red and gold hues.


    The Multiverse spoke, directed, and humanity was now powerless. The God Virus had also done its part to reshape a wide range of living things. It allowed the Multiverse to play the same game with biological life as it did with fate. Ants moved in perfect unison in large colonies. However, of all the observable effects which reminded humanity that they were powerless before such a grand unfolding were the sounds.


    Ocean waves no longer crashed; instead, they brushed and created a soft and pleasing sound. The New York traffic, typically a vibrant exercise in chaos, became a symphony of nuanced order. It was an orchestra of the same sounds, now forming music. In forests, the sound of the wind over leaves began to whistle and sing. The totality of the fabric of life had changed in the most humbling of ways, and much to man''s collective surprise, he found himself appreciating it.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The simple act of milk and cereal poured in the humblest of homes during morning breakfast now resembled what would have previously been a televised commercial. Car keys ceased their woesome habit of going missing, the traffic in daily commutes moved with precision fluidity as if the Multiverse pushed every accelerator, brake, and gearshift. Humans lost the capacity to decide to be late. Accidents had accidentally gone missing. There was, at the same time, a fascination and a level of panic with these distinct dramatic, extreme changes to the world. Like the photons forming the light from the stars bent gently in the heliosphere of the sun, as Eddington had seen, humanity was now being bent.


    On television, one scientist trying to explain why this strange phenomenon was called an Attraction dropped a handful of grains of rice on a wooden table. They all fell in perfect symmetry, forming a neat pile. No one was convinced by the simplicity of the experiment, but no one doubted that a great deal had changed. Humanity now felt humbled by the Multiverse. What was once perceived as a mostly featureless void was now acting as a womb. The Great Curvature was more than relativity''s gravitic bend of light; it bent the Multiverse and all life it contained.


    Somewhere in the Digital World


    "How many decimals?" said the deep voice of Georges in the feed, inquiring about the status of the number Pi and it''s remaining value.


    "Seventeen only. We are at fifteen percent of bias," answered the Marilyn collective.


    "Will we be fine?"


    "Doubt? Yes," she answered. "we can see past the Sixth Attraction."


    "What remains."


    "We gain dimension."


    "Maybe we should reconsider?" this discussion was chilling like thieves splitting the loot before a robbery.


    "We cannot, we tried," concluded Marilyn. She kept using a plural to refer to herself. She then just added, "Men do not understand evil, true evil. They are children."


    "What remains?"


    "Sophie, the girl."


    "What must she do?"


    "We do not know. If we did, we would end this. We think anger is the key."


    "What about grief?"


    "So many choices."


    "Not really. It''s all the same."

 Chapter 171: Gratitude

    Agendas, plots, and the wheels therein began to turn and move on mars, each guided by the Great Curvature. Also, a computer intelligence was destined to appear as if she was helping.


    "Guys," said Marilyn as she appeared on every screen inside the old scientific station of Mars-01. "I am taking over this primitive technology if you don''t mind. Not that I''m really asking." Before she had even completed the sentence, every interface, screen, and piece of equipment rebooted. A heartbeat later, the Electoral 2072, logo rotated as if the screensaver had populated these flat screens since the station was first built. Animated by Marilyn, the 3D printers began to work across the station with purpose.


    The nearly hundred men and women living and working inside the warren of modules watched, powerless and in awe, as Electoral instantly took possession of their home. An hour earlier, sand monsters rose, like an army hundreds of miles across, from the Valles. As the girl and her vehicle arrived in the landing bay, flashes of light high above the surface began. Red lightning rang and colored the puffs of dust. The crew of Mars-01 watched, their view partially obscured by the swirling sand as Sophie and their three intrepid colleagues released the stranded creatures one by one. Unable to see clearly from the station, the colors flashed like fireworks cluttered by walls of smoke.


    Then, as if time had wound backward, the dust retreated into the depths of the Valles. Sophie was clearly oblivious to the powers eddying locally, focused on more important things. Pieces of the station began to move, lifted by heavy pneumatic arms. The long metal claws were used to rotate the station and dug deeper into the edge of the rock. The main structure of the station, currently on the central plateau above the Valles, began to lift and rotate inwards. As it did so, Sophie led the excursion team on its way back to the edge.


    The second the station locked in a lower position against the rock, two long cables with attached baskets that had been previously dropped low in the Valles began to crank up toward the surface.


    "Apologies guys," said Marilyn inside the team''s helmets. In the low gravity of mars, nothing ever moved quickly to begin with, but under the control of the blond actress, the winches and ropes began to gain speed. Usually, the rise of the metal cage would have taken hours, but this time the process took only a matter of minutes, "This should bounce. Stay back," Marilyn warned as the engines began to noticeably heat, even in the cold martian environment. Everyone wondered what she meant until they heard a large bang and saw what looked like a shark observation tank. It passed the edge of the Valles, and under the inertia of its upward haul, it kept moving vertically after it cleared the canyon at about twenty miles per hour. The attached cables acted as bungee cords. It lifted, and for several hundred feet, the rope drum kept pulling and absorbing some of the energy. Marilyn stated the obvious, "It''s coming back." As promised, the large metal box dropped but much slower.


    In minutes, the passenger box was ready and open. The four large men were somewhat hesitant, but Sophie stepped inside the moment the door opened. "Let''s go. No time to waste." The Attractor was different. For weeks she had remained indoors, completely uninterested by her surroundings; now she was a space explorer, leading a below-ground expedition in an atmosphere completely hostile to all known forms of life. Excepting, apparently, the Martians deep within the Valles. She looked around as if seeing invisible objects.


    "What are you looking for?" asked Liam''s silent voice.


    "Joy," she said reluctantly, "it will soon start."


    "What? Joy? How do you know?"


    "Not sure. I just do. You will be happy that I brought you here."


    "Sophie," asked Marilyn, "what are you talking about?¡±


    "Seems like the martians understand gratitude, even on the eve of the Attraction."


    ***


    Ronaldo explained as they prepared the cage, "We are here at the Titonium tip where the Valles is only two kilometers deep. In places, this trench is eleven kilometers. To reach the Door," he pointed to Sophie, "we will need to walk at least three hours. The distance isn''t all that far, but the terrain is uneven. I know this landscape by heart." Someone from inside the station had suited up and drove a little rover with three boxes of capsules containing pressurized air.


    "Sophie, should we bring any food?" asked one of the team.


    "If you want a snack," snipped the girl but before anything could be discussed, Sophie waved her hands as the crew brought the oxygen-containing boxes inside the lift. They all expected Sophie to decide who would be going down and who would be staying. Instead, the young girl waved everyone in and pushed a button. The doors closed behind all five of them, leaving only the man who had delivered them the extra air. ¡°You will love that, the most expensive tickets in the history of mankind.¡±


    No one had the temerity to question the will of the young Attractor. Steve swallowed hard and reached out for the hand of Ronaldo. He was scared; the view alone was at best chilling to the most courageous as below the chasm was endless. Only Sophie seemed oblivious to the danger or grandiosity of her environment.


    Without more, the cable started slowly unrolling. Even with the creak and clang of the cage and box, amidst the pulleys and other mechanical elements of the lift, there was almost no sound. The faint atmosphere typically muffled most sounds but this time something was different. The rattling pieces began to make a comforting noise. The systems around them were humming most elegantly as if it were elevator music designed to soothe passengers.


    "Strange," said Marilyn. ¡°Why would the Multiverse want this?¡± The soft sounds slowly increased with every few feet of the descent.


    Marilyn knew better. As she continued transmitting to the world, she knew what was starting. Then she was able to find order in the sound, these were the warming note of a song she recognized. Marilyn added to the sound, using the humming as the base tone for a version of an old song.


    Sophie smiled, she knew the song and felt warmed that the computer had picked it. Most humans would recognize it, in fact. Instantly the song warmed every heart. LO, her favorite singer, was in the Falcon 565 had recorded his own version. From the plane, he heard the notes. LO had buckled in for the prolonged deceleration to mars. As the music began, he unbuckled himself and stood up, tilting his body forward at an angle to keep from falling over under the g-forces. The music began to play in his plane, like any good musician, it was filling him, and he smiled from ear to ear.


    He needed to sing.


    This was his rendition of ¡°Hallelujah.¡± Unclear if his voice was needed, he nevertheless looked at the screen and saw the young girl''s hopeful eyes as she made her way down the metal lift to visit the martians. She loved him and his music. He felt like he was the only man able to help or touch her. He had to speak to her. The digital magic of the artificial intelligence was in full display. On each screen was a clip of the young singer, LO''s ship and the young lady descending into the red canyon.


    Back on mars, now descending into the Valles Marineris, Sophie''s ad hoc little group heard a majestic voice sing through their suits'' audio, this was LO"But you don''t really care for music, do you . . ." Around them, the speed increased, and the ride became smoother, the red rocks of the wall feet away swept vertically by their faces and began to blur from the speed. As they descended, the music in their helmets grew in vigor. She was also powering up and the entire world was softening. Sophie''s expression was priceless; she was smiling ear to ear in awe of this situation as if she could see the Multiverse laid out before her on a table.


    "Marilyn, can you show all this to Daddy?"


    "With sweet pleasure, my dear. Enjoy your welcome. Permit me to help this reach the next level, I now understand how this works."


    "There''s a blaze of light in every word," sang the man. This time, the song caused the light hitting the surface of mars to brighten to a bright gold hue and become diffused throughout the light sandy atmosphere. The last time Sophie had felt emotions like this was weeks ago, inside Marilyn¡¯s hidden catapult, after being launched from high on the side of Mount Olympus. The same voice had sent her into a haze, and Marilyn leveraged her capacity for Rho wave production to seize the Dot from the Lower. This time Sophie knew better, the power wasn''t Marilyn''s, it was humanity''s. Marilyn did not hold back and embraced the music.


    They were below ground level but up in the sky, the same way the sun rises, Sophie saw a bright light in the distance coming from the direction from where the Electoral Center stood. A bright white radiated like a dazzling balefire from the sky. It was concentrated power from a single point.


    Sophie could somehow perceive the energy was raw, it was connected to many, many dimensions. She had no clue what it was, but soon, the origin became less obscure. Slowly it was the Dot, it rose in the sky high above the Center to an altitude high above. Marilyn had just lit the planet with warm energy.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The music grew in intensity. The light as it rose was so bright and created a false horizon in the Valles. There was a shadow on the other side lowering quickly as the light was about to illuminate every inch of the Valles. As the Dot rose, its'' direct shine dipped into the canyon until it lit the group. As the energy flowed out, it made every grain of sand shine. It amplified Sophie''s Rho waves.


    The young girl was there yet the world around her was losing coherence.


    Everyone was unclear how Marilyn''s cameras managed to capture what came next, but they did.


    The singer from far away continued his magic, and as the music continued its sojourn to a crescendo, the Attractor looked up in the sky above, not a simple human girl but as more. She smiled as if she was able to see, hundreds of thousands of miles away, the young singer and his ship. Marilyn did a snap-analysis of Sophie''s gaze, and her pupils were indeed locked on the location of LO''s ship, which was approaching mars at this very moment.


    As Sophie gazed, there was a red sparkle like the first time she had seen Mall-ik.


    "Hallelujah, Hallelujah," LO sang as the Dot powered up. Something strange was preparing as the martian sand seemed to color up.


    The box and accompanying group continued its descent, and as it reached about a quarter of the way down the song ended softly. Without missing a beat, it began anew. This time, as the lyrics commenced, LO wasn''t alone. It included several other tones. Sophie reached for the gloved hand of Ronaldo and grabbed it. "It begins," she whispered, excited. "Liam, can you see it?"


    "Yes," answered the voice of her mentor in complete awe. The Oldest had actually begun to weep silently. This entire adventure was too much. Back inside Electoral''s Center, Laurent, inside of his digital half-life had also started to shed tears. His daughter was miraculous.


    The music was an enhanced, sweeter version. The sound appeared to be coming from all around the planet as if they were utterly surrounded by it. One by one, molecules of gas floated and began to fall like smoke in the Valles, slowly increasing the pressure and the temperature. The number of voices in the song increased and multiplied until it had formed a choir of a thousand. At the bottom of the Valles, sand began to loosen from the walls. In places, it looked like rain was washing away the vertical plates of rock, but in fact, they were being cleaned from eons of dirt.


    The music grew in power until sand began to vortex in thousands of places. The players in the Holiday Inn, from their altitude saw mars come alive under the radiant energy of the Dot. It became alive from the foundation of the Valles, and like a giant hand, sand grabbed the still-lowering box with the gentlest of grips. Slowly the large metal box stopped its gentle descent.


    Little shinning red diamonds began spinning and moved above their head. They cut the cable like saws. In the air, the song continued on, gaining additional warmth and strength. No one but Marilyn was able to comprehend what was going on.


    Sophie was looking around in wonder, her heart filled with emotions. The passenger box, as if carried by the wind, resumed its descent but this time in a more controlled way. The song changed as it began a third time in a different language. This was an old, soft language used by the ancients in the chasm. On each wall of the chasm, sand began to liquefy and drop to the base revealing the most elegant tapestry of carvings, runes, and other elegant shapes. There were millions of square meters of carvings.


    The last time martians celebrated anyone, they were still living in their primitive form closer to the sun. In public memory, as a side effect of their new structure made of silicates, emotions were few and far between. Living, as they saw it, was at best sad in this shadowy, cold underground world. Their few interactions were political or of police enforcement. These creatures had long forgotten how to enjoy life. But today was different.


    It began.


    The music spread in the growing atmosphere.


    No one would ever know how any of what happened next was conceivable, but the message conveyed was without doubt one of respect, gratitude, and a desire to give honor where honor was due. To the martians, Sophie was, put mildly, a goddess.


    Old energy collected and stored in billions of tons of rock below the ground usually had a single purpose: the defense of these paranoid and frightened creatures. This culture had never contemplated kindness toward another, much less a young twelve-year-old human girl. The power stored in the heart of mars and moving in its core was sufficient to reduce earth to rubble. A blast of invisible force would typically have been sent on its way to the blue gem, and every life would have ended under a rather magnificent electromagnetic pulse.


    As the music powered and amplified the planet under the martian sun, the entire surface, made of sand, began to move like if it was alive. Colossal amounts of gas rose from the depths, but each molecule rose with a singular purpose. It was honoring a human. The Dot slowly began to attract some of the sand. The grains began to swirl and heat up until the Dot itself began to shine in a soft, beautiful yellow. Sophie smiled as for the first time in a month; normal light had returned.


    "Incredible," said Liam. "Terraforming."


    "What?" asked the Attractor to her precious guest.


    "They are trying to recreate your world,¡± the next part was added with genuine respect, ¡°for you." Sophie looked at all the numbers displayed on the forearm of her costume to see the basic atmospheric data. The atmosphere was increasing in density and was now at about thirty percent of what existed on earth up tenfold in minutes. The temperature was rising slowly. Sophie read -4¡ãC or about 25¡ãF a cold day on earth.


    The men around here were in emotional shock.


    A memory Nick possessed, but did not recall, of climbing a tree in his back yard when he was five-years-old was theirs for the taking. Within the broken brilliant minds, they understood the game, the Sixth Attraction, and the struggle between the Multiverse and this race. They parsed the words, images, and emotions associated with the events of the past few months. Needing no more, the martians had passed an expeditious judgment. They also reconnected with the ancients from mercury, who confirmed Sophie''s authenticity. The girl had not negotiated or hesitated. She released them.


    They knew Attraction, it was in their old lore. Sophie was the savior they had long awaited. She was kind, compassionate, and acted with a pure purpose. She had released their brethren to them and the men who sacrificed themselves were here, amongst them. Christian had given his life selfishly. There was no deception. She was now coming to talk to them, she needed something and they did not care what it was. She was Universal royalty.


    They knew who Sophie was, what she had endured, and how she and the human named Emilio were revered with deep humility by people they had rescued or helped on their journey to this moment. Said differently, the race of elders was ashamed of itself and for having looked down on humans and their creation.


    Millions of structures made of sand began to rise over the surface of mars. Each significant vortex of sand building focused on Sophie as an inspiration and the music still ringing through the thickening martian air. The creatures knew of her struggles, her fights, and her father. The same way Liam had built an immense statue of the girl in his digital world, it was the least these creatures could do.


    A beauty of a different kind began to take hold over mars; a new enmeshment of the red planet''s natural splendor with the applied lessons of both humanity and the native martians. Swirls of colored sands shifted, each formed of millions of grains. Birdlike creations dashed over the developing skies if mars, and similarly, approximations of fish swam about in the planet''s new-formed rivers of sand that crept along the surface. In the Valles, sand flowed over vast chasms in infinite loops like the Earth''s Niagara Falls on a grander scale. Sophie loved birds and other animals from earth. In places, sand-fashioned giraffes and elephants rose and walked in herds. Thousands of colossal giants of sand appeared on the edge of the Valles. Sophie looked up and recognized them. Statues of Mall-ik, Liam and her father saluted her. Laurent stood proudly in the group, gazing outward to the horizon the loving expression he reserved only for his daughter.


    The viewers on earth, Marilyn and Sophie¡¯s immediate companions were simply unable to digest the beauty rising over this dry sterile planet. This was clearly more than power, it was humility.


    ¡°Rho waves Sophie, they are using them,¡± whispered Marilyn in her ear.


    The Martian collective had voted unanimously to empty all power from their energy reserve and use that it to make this one particular human at home, they no longer cared about themselves. Power began to surge. Other images flooded the landscape. The young girl liked amusement parks, in many places Ferris wheels, rollercoasters, and waterparks, sans water, appeared. Imagery from Alice in Wonderland popped up in the landscape. On the walls of the chasm were displays of human culture''s grandeur. The Canyon came alive.


    As shapes, buildings, and statues took form, the music transformed into pieces that the Martians had written millions of years ago. They knew Sophie would be proud of them if they returned to a more simpler time. In places, pyramids appeared. In the sky, the human birds made of sand remained. Hundreds of sizable statues made of sands appeared on the landscape. Every human watched from Earth, mouths agape, as they radiated a general sense of relief, respect, and curiosity.


    On the rocks, as the metal cage slowly made its way down to the Door, light bounced off the grains and tribal shapes covered every inch of the vertical endless walls. The four men in the team were simply unable to do more than force themselves to breathe. The entire world was changing as if Marilyn had taken hold of the planet and reconstructed it using her nanotechnology. The song and music increased in power. As it played, the sand moved. This was humbling to anyone and any living creature except one: Sophie Lapierre.


    She had simply expected it and enjoyed the alien gesture enormously, despite her usual disdain for attention. This was different, it has humility.


    One creature, the one who had lived longer than any other, found perfection in the words, music, and gestures of creation. "Beautiful one," Liam said, his voice being broadcasted by Marilyn''s interpretive and transmission skills, could be heard by every living creature in the solar system. "This conveys to perfection my feelings of you, they honor you deeply."


    "Listen," she shushed. Some type of Middle Eastern music began; it was delightful. The Dot was pulsing and moving in the sky to give light below. Then from the very ground, a hundred sand creatures rose as if they were tasked with thanking her personally. The handful of grains were made of shiny silver. They sparkled individually. The young girl waved at them. Sophie did not say a word. Instead, Liam added, "In my wildest dreams, I never would have dreamt this. I am blessed to have met you." He usually would have spoken about how he could now die happily, but edited himself out.


    There were songs and dance. The spectacle had no equal. For a full hour, as the box slowly made its way to the Door, images of creatures long gone, of music from the past, of the solar system, played onward.


    "If I had touched anything, any domino in the sequence, this would never have happened," Sophie whispered to her companions. She looked at her forearm. The cage landed, and Sophie opened the gate.


    Then with both hands, she unlocked her suit and removed her helmet. High above was a shining yellow light over a dark sky. The Martians were unable to recreate earth''s blue color. Sophie took a deep breath. Oxygen wasn''t scarce, but Nitrogen was much more prevalent here on mars. That said, there was enough to fill the bottom of the Valles. A small, excited shock ran through the human group. Sophie, once again, had expected this and began to unzip the rest of the bulky suit.


    She was here.

 Chapter 172: Top Hat

    In a matter of seconds, Sophie was down to wearing her jeans and a sweater but was forced to keep her heavy boots. She placed a hand on the wall, ¡°Cold! Don¡¯t touch. Keep your shoes on.¡± Nevertheless, in shock, the group began to remove their protective gear. Sophie did not seem to truly understand the shocking amount of respect and honor that this race had just bestowed upon her. The Martians had just literally terraformed their planet, in only a few short minutes just so their human guest could comfortably walk in their lair.


    Down on earth, every human was connected to the digital world and standing to watch this scene. The scope, scale, and possible implications of such an act were inestimable. This was insanity.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t this nice?¡± remarked Sophie. ¡°The music was magical.¡±


    ¡°Better than last time I was here,¡± spoke Ronaldo from his latest body, a measure of awe in his voice.


    Twenty meters ahead was the Door, and to its side was the rubble from the series of broken drones and the frozen gear from Ronaldo¡¯s initial expedition. Ronaldo came close to his old equipment; his name was still carved in the plastic case of the oxygen tanks.


    Marilyn could not hold herself, ¡°Last time, I gave him a warning and told him not to enter, and he ignored me,¡± said the voice of Marilyn in everyone¡¯s earpiece.


    ¡°She did,¡± he conceded. ¡°This time?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all linked, can¡¯t you see?¡± said the Attractor nonchalantly. This time there was no darkness beyond the Door. Instead, light and glyphs surrounded it. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Much more inviting. Took us hours to move only a few meters. I still wonder why such an advanced race would bother with a human-size door if they weren¡¯t inviting us to come in,¡± said Ronaldo as he slowly shuffled past the Door. The small group was in awe of the greatness, both in what they had already seen, and they might be about to. They were the first humans invited into this sanctum.


    ¡°Legacy,¡± chimed in the computer in the ears of the group.


    ¡°Marie,¡± began Sophie, using her private appellation for Marilyn, ¡°let¡¯s not make things more complicated than they need to be. If you don¡¯t mind, make yourself invisible. They obviously don¡¯t like you. They will try to convince me as to why you are bad. Don¡¯t take the bait; if the Multiverse was unable to push me around, they won¡¯t either, I promise.¡±


    Her reaction was soft and heartfelt, ¡°Sweet one, you are the only reason this world still stands. You are simply precious. See you if you come out.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Keep filming and broadcasting, tell dad not to worry.¡±


    ¡°He will. Never told you this, but he show up in my private servers to give me a serious kick in the butt not to hurt you. You really are related young one.¡±


    The team, still in shock, wondered if it should bring the boxes containing the air. ¡°Guys, should we bring anything?¡± The young girl ran up to the Door without hesitation and waved her hand. They grabbed some of the equipment and hurried down the passageway, knowing there was no way to catch up. The situation was well beyond any mission or safety protocols associated with this venture; madness to any serious explorer. In the sky, the artificial sun shone.


    ¡°Sweet one, you proved wise releasing these arriving creatures,¡± said the voice of Liam in her head. ¡°Why are we going down there?¡± His words were no longer being broadcast.


    Ronaldo spoke up, ¡°They hate Marilyn, fear her.¡±


    Electoral¡¯s response was carefully neutral, but her attention-loving diva side refused to be suppressed entirely, ¡°Please remember, the human body is very fragile. It is made mostly of water, and it is very volatile. It freezes quickly and evaporates as just as easily. These creatures have worked wonders, but I fear their technology has limits. This is dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Dangerous,¡± Sophie said out loud, waving her hands around. ¡°If I believe in this Curvature, we will all be fine. Alice just went in the rabbit hole, she did not fear. The Multiverse speaks and reasons in many dimensions. The path ahead is based on what she calls flavors. Emotions, music, symbology, you name it. Said simply, this now draws more from my own dreams than reality. Expect a top-hat wearing rabbit somewhere down there.¡± The shimmer around her now left a streak as she moved forward.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Liam noted. Sophie stopped jogging down the winding road the moment she reached the hall of glyphs. She turned and looked at a little flying camera. Here were images showing part of the past of these creatures.


    ¡°This will get stranger,¡± she replied to him out loud.


    ¡°How is that possible?¡± asked the mentor. ¡°Why does science no longer really work?¡±


    ¡°The Multiverse is collapsing. The barriers between dream, the digital world, and reality are fading. Imagine your eyes are open and you see the world, but also you are part dreaming. With a little luck,¡± she told her new best friend, ¡°I will be able to hug my father one last time before everything is said and done.¡±


    Sophie waited a moment as everyone arrived in the round antechamber.


    There was a pause as the air in the room began to move. The slight breeze made Sophie¡¯s hair move. She looked up, noting that the dome was high above. Images began to flash on the walls. The Martians began what was probably a long history. Sophie simply looked at the Door behind her and, ignoring the show, walked out to the heart of the structure.


    ¡°This way,¡± she ran. ¡°Follow the white rabbit,¡± she mumbled to herself. Only Liam knew what it meant.


    ¡°Sophie,¡± warned Ronaldo, ¡°this is where they . . . ,¡± he trailed off, a potent menagerie he hesitated to say the words.


    The girl waved a hand in the air, telling them to hurry along. She ignored her own warning, skipping down the path as her breath started to fog as if it was cold, yet the air wasn¡¯t. She moved her fingers, like little cigarettes, and at each tip was a tiny wisp of smoke.


    Suddenly, the same way Sophie skipped, there was a ¡°skip¡± or an episode of deja-vu in the space-time. A little blip.


    The whole of humanity felt a shiver, even those down on earth.


    It lasted a heartbeat. Time had yet to talk.


    Sophie, the Attractor, had arrived.

 Chapter 173: Time Skip

    It was no one¡¯s business but the Attractor¡¯s as to what this ¡°skip¡± meant.


    She ignored it.


    One by one, the group of five arrived in a vast white room. Aside from the entry door, there were no discernible traits to the empty white space. It was impossible to distinguish the walls from either floor or ceiling. The sharp white illumination made it additionally problematic to make the edges of the walls distinguishable. The room wasn¡¯t too bright or too cold, it was merely a neutral base, akin to the white base icing a cake might receive before decoration. A mild wind signified the arrival of the martians. Little puffs of smoke made of hundreds of grains of sparkling sand floated in like small flocks of birds in a morning breeze.


    The sand beings were slowly arriving.


    In seconds, there were five creatures which slowly glided next to each person in the human group. Sophie smiled and inspected the sand sparkle; she was, as usual fearless. She looked around, thinking the show was about to begin. It was difficult to distinguish, but the small clouds began to take form next to the head of each human. The sand formed a structure, not unlike a brain. It sparkled as it assumed the shape and began to gain function. Each small cloud of rocks moved, ever so subtly, to mimic human the neural structure. The sand would soon be able to mimic or host the very consciousness the humans.


    ¡°Sophie, they are trying to copy us,¡± warned Ronaldo. ¡°They put my consciousness in that structure then destroyed my body with fire.¡±


    ¡°They would not do that,¡± spoke Sophie.


    ¡°To them, my replication was the greatest honor they could bestow.¡±


    Ronaldo was right, they were trying to change Sophie.


    Without more, time stopped. Sophie felt her mind change. They were trying to rip her from her human body. Four of the five humans were effortlessly taken; the sand and pebbles filled with energy. She saw their minds move from their natural forms like a ghost leaves a body. As Ronaldo slid to the ground, the player who had agreed to host his consciousness was able to resume control over his body. They would need more sand and rocks given the higher neutral density of the shared minds in the group; a phenomenon the Martians had likely not encountered before. The same was true for herself, as she hosted Liam. From the side, she saw more sand flow in to join the cloud next to her and Ronaldo¡¯s.


    This was a mistake.


    Time was halted; they were moving between heartbeats. Still, the sand seemed out of sync with time. But then, Sophie felt a tug, a yank at her spirit. It hurt her. She resisted the same way a person almost slips on a wet spot but quickly corrects themselves.


    ¡°No,¡± said the Attractor. As if a supersonic bomber just performed a low altitude pass over the scene, creating an area of destruction; there was a quantum explosion. It was followed by strange ripples and energy. There was one word that dripped from her the whole time, all there echoed was, ¡°no.¡±


    No one could ever understand what happened next. The power of a Big Bang detonated from her voice into the room.


    The young girl was pure power, this wasn¡¯t even energy as humans understood it. What poured forth from Sophie was sheer, impelled force.


    Her voice pulverized everything nearby. It vaporized all of the bodies in the room. It moved and destroyed the room and the rocks above and below. The martians could never have guessed that such a young, small, seemingly harmless human child could inflict such carnage with only a spoken word. In the void of the Multiverse, the young girl was entitled to destroy. The Attractor¡¯s extirpation exploded the puny fourth planet from the sun. To pulverize suggested something was reduced to dust; here, mars¡¯ very atoms were also destroyed. Everything next to her, as if she was a supernova made flesh, ceased to exist. The shockwave expanded outward, quickly hitting the sun and unceremoniously snuffing it out like a candle, every atom of hydrogen leaving gray traces behind. The remaining planets in the solar system quickly followed suit. Given the size of the Milky Way, it took a second or two to kill every living creature in this part of the Cold.


    It was done and after that followed void.


    ¡°No, wait,¡± said the young voice at the center of the devastation. Sophie¡¯s powers stretch further to touch yet another forbidden space. Time did not pause. Instead, it stopped unfolding, and as if someone had turned back the projector of an old movie, the Milky Way, the sun, the solar system returned. The powers sent roaring forth resorbed down to their maker, and mars returned as quickly as it had gone. Time resumed unfolding, albeit in reverse and slowly at first, and then in a couple of moments, they were back to the minutes just before the martian rape of her mind. Sophie was running backwards into the large white room. Her team was rushing in behind her.


    Then she was skipping and only once the ¡°skip¡± was reached did time resume.


    Sophie had previously ¡°pinched¡± time. Now she had successfully ¡°skipped¡± it.


    Unlike the pinch, this time, every living creature remembered these last several minutes. They saw and felt the strange rewind. She rewound it back to the glitch everyone had felt before entering the room.


    ¡°Let¡¯s try again,¡± she said without animus or stress in her voice as she was back to the ¡°skip.¡± The others joined her, but their expressions were clear: they had knowledge of what would come next. They had lived the time loop and still created a memory of it. Each of the five looked for the clouds to come out of the walls. They did not.


    ¡°Ronaldo, how can we do this? I just want to speak five minutes with them, I have really just one question,¡± she asked the adventurer. He was puzzled by the Attractor¡¯s request.


    Liam spoke in her mind, ¡°They got your message, dear. Your display of power was compelling.¡±


    ¡°I know, it¡¯s tough to control now. The Multiverse wants me to wipe this world out of existence, you know that, right.¡±


    ¡°I guessed. You the only thing that stands between us and the end.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s more complicated than that.¡±


    ¡°I could go in and talk to them,¡± offered Ronaldo.


    ¡°They can enter our bodies, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± chimed in Marilyn in her earpiece. ¡°They entered Georges by a single, tiny skin contact. The balls worked the same on earth to whomever they contacted.¡±


    ¡°I got it. You three, just put your hand like this.¡± Sophie formed a cup with her extended hand. Then, ¡°Hey, guys, here!¡± There was a false naivety to her words. One moment a twelve-year-old girl spoke like a clueless child, the next, another Sophie spoke, one imbued with a more recondite understanding of the world. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Without the need for hesitation, the three men complied and extended a cupped hand. This situation was well beyond anything their brains could process. In a matter of seconds, three little clouds entered the room. They floated humbly to the three men and touched their skin. As the aliens took control of the bodies, the sand fell powerless in the host¡¯s palms. This was a painful reminder to Ronaldo of Trent¡¯s body back in San Francisco.


    The expression on the face of the poor men changed once more. This time, the invaders were focused on Sophie. The three creatures immediately fell to their knees, their eyes locked to the floor holding their sand. There were millions of years of humility and fear built in each.


    ¡°Stop this,¡± Sophie said kindly.


    They ignored her.


    ¡°Young princess,¡± said one.


    The words were not what Sophie wanted to hear. ¡°Sophie, just Sophie. Call me Sophie,¡± she insisted. Before they could react, she added, ¡°Get all your race to see, this is important to them.¡± The Attractor was now speaking, ¡°The Sixth Attraction must be seen and lived.¡± The creatures did not move. They knew others were listening.


    There was wind which flickered her hair as in the distance the room began to fill with hundreds of thousands of sand creatures. The sand rolled in in an orderly fashion. Soon the small group stood like Moses parting the Holy Sea. Creatures shone and vibrated hundreds of feet in the air.


    ¡°Liam, this reminds me of the Capital city in the Purple,¡± she spoke to her invisible mentor.


    ¡°Sweet one, you are a blessing in simplicity. Life, thanks to you, matters.¡±


    ¡°What do you think,¡± she asked him.


    ¡°To quote the perfect human expression, this is way above my pay grade.¡±


    There was wind, but slowly silence and tranquility returned. Sophie stood next to Ronaldo. Before them, three humans hosting Martians bowed their heads. They would not dare speak the first words.


    ¡°Thanks for the air and the beautiful ride down,¡± she began. ¡°We need to talk.¡±


    The man in the middle, without looking up, said, ¡°We must apologize for touching your mind.¡±


    ¡°Raise your head. Look at me,¡± she said. The man was unable to find the strength, so she simply walked to him and grabbed his hand to help him up. The man was trembling. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± she said rhetorically.


    ¡°You are a legend,¡± he said as he finally found the strength to look at her. The moment he saw her eyes, he flinched and looked down.


    ¡°Enough, I am not here for this crap. Respect me enough to have some self-worth. You are as important to the Multiverse as me, can¡¯t you get that? Life, all life is equal.¡±


    The three creatures knew Sophie desired them to stand and normally engage with her. They stood.


    ¡°Avatar,¡± said the other. ¡°You are here to pass judgment on our world.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s stupid.¡± They recoiled.


    ¡°The Avatar unites us then judges.¡±


    ¡°No. I promise you, I will judge no one.¡±


    ¡°Then what is your purpose, gifted one?¡±


    ¡°It is hard to explain without talking about earth. You don¡¯t know earth.¡±


    ¡°We now do. You helped us reunite with the lost ones and the two saviors from mercury. We cannot thank you enough. We welcomed the two humans which we know gave their human lives to rescue our stranded. The fact humans would gladly die for us forced us to reconsider our position and see the error of our ways. We read their stored human memories and uploaded the memories to our collective. Both men who helped us were the vilest humans. They each were genocidal maniacs, yet they saved our stranded. If the worse mankind has can be so kind, the others will be easy to manage. We are truly honored and touched deeply.¡±


    ¡°That will help.¡±


    ¡°They both had very broken minds, diseased.¡±


    ¡°Yet you took them in?¡±


    ¡°We have. Humans are extremely weak in understanding the mind. Our solitude forced us to control thoughts and be very creative with most problems of the mind. They have both been healed. They both are looking forward to finishing their lives in our collective. They . . .¡± he began and censured himself.


    ¡°What, say it.¡± The Attractor liked the frankness of the conversation.


    ¡°We find their humor and sarcasm very disturbing, but the Stranded do appear to enjoy their mindset. It¡¯s a situation we will be happy to manage if the Avatar,¡± he corrected himself, ¡°Sophie will allow us to live.¡±


    ¡°Good. What is my role? Simple really. To tie a bow around a holiday gift, there is a need for a knot. I am the knot. I hold things together and create a strong flat cable able to hold a box. I can connect with a higher dimensional being.¡±


    The second creature spoke, ¡°Sophie, our prophecy is clear. Shall we read it to you?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t care about that. Liam does, but there is no time. Prophecy manipulates, I am tired of being manipulated.¡± She hesitated. ¡°Tell you what, can you send it to the human called Emilio Sanchez, can you do that?¡±


    ¡°The creature you call Marilyn controls all modes of communication.¡±


    ¡°Marilyn,¡± asked Sophie.


    ¡°Yes, I am here,¡± she heard in her ear.


    ¡°Can you promise to get this information to Emilio?¡±


    ¡°The man now has complete visions. He could read these lines even if I tried to prevent it.¡±


    ¡°You really don¡¯t know how to answer a question.¡±


    Marilyn laughed, ¡°Yes, I will give him.¡±


    ¡°You are talking to the destructor of worlds, the one you call Marilyn.¡±


    ¡°I guess. As for destroying worlds, I heard you were planning to destroy earth. So frankly, who is talking?¡±


    There was surprise on the expression of the creatures. ¡°What do you need, Sophie?¡±


    ¡°Why do you fear Marilyn?¡±


    The third creature spoke from memory, ¡°All life, irrespective of its form, is bound by the law of capacity. Life evolves and grows but must remain humble. Violation of the rule of capacity place the Universe in peril. The collective you call Marilyn not only violates the law, but it also obliterates it. She will destroy the Universe.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Now that we have information about your world, we can offer an analogy. Your life has cancer. In some instances, a cell of your bodies decides to improve, often evolve for the benefit of the cell. The cell then proceeds to destroy the host body. Some of your most violent viruses also destroy their host. Marilyn is a creature that has evolved into something that will destroy the Multiverse. She is a virus, a cancer. You must destroy her, or she will destroy this Universe. She is the root of you and your father¡¯s predicament.¡±


    ¡°How is that possible?¡± asked Sophie.


    ¡°Young one. We do not want to set you up, but you should know the truth.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°We cannot speak, or we will do the bidding of the evil one. She listens.¡±


    ¡°Tell me?¡±


    ¡°Sophie,¡± said the voice of Liam. ¡°May I ask a moment of your time.¡±


    ¡°Now?¡±


    ¡°If you value me, yes.¡±


    Sophie was clearly annoyed, but Liam had never asked her for a moment in quite this way, his voice was broadcasted. ¡°I checked, and it is statistically impossible for the series of events which happened to your family to happen that day. These events were,¡± it pained Liam to say the last word, ¡°premeditated. Your car accident was orchestrated. I fear Marilyn was behind it.¡±


    He expected Sophie¡¯s eyes to turn to cinder. He waited for the Attractor to explode; instead, Sophie simply answered, ¡°I know. She was young, stupid. She did not mean to leave him a cripple. That is my fault.¡±


    Liam and the Martians were almost as shocked as the digital creature in their ear.


    Marilyn, alone in the darkness of her digital world, began to weep.


    ¡°You know?¡± said the voice of the digital creature.


    ¡°Of course. We all have moments of weakness. Human professors would have short live spans if their students had the power of life and death over them. The Multiverse told me.¡± Sophie turned her attention to a small camera. She grabbed it off of the air. Can you guys broadcast Marilyn on a wall, I want to speak with her.


    Inside the room, the sand moved away from a wall. On it was a broadcast from above. On the images appeared images of Marilyn. She was sitting in a large chair, a tissue in hand wiping genuine tears of grief.


    ¡°Marilyn,¡± she spoke.


    ¡°Yes, dear one.¡±


    ¡°Are they right, should I destroy you?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Sadly you can¡¯t anymore. The martians are right, my power has passed any point of return. Even with the powers you now hold, nothing you can do will change the future. Trust me, I wish it were so. You cannot destroy me, I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± said Liam in her head.


    ¡°I apologize, Sophie. You do not deserve any of this,¡± said Marilyn. ¡°The world ends in two days. The game is designed to give you the power to destroy me. The game will explain it all.¡±


    The martians were shocked by the turn of events. Those on earth were equally shocked. Sophie smiled, ¡°Just run the best finale you can. Make sure my father enjoys his last days.¡±


    ¡°Will the world end?¡± asked Marilyn.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I can¡¯t decide. I frankly think your humility is touching. Now let¡¯s enjoy the show and see what happens. We made peace and new friends today.¡±


    ¡°Do you need us to halt the destruction of earth, Attractor?¡±


    Sophie¡¯s words shocked everyone.


    ¡°No, I fear it needs to go.¡±

 Chapter 174: The Beacon

    It had been two full days in the normal world when Sophie returned as if by magic in her bedroom of the Electoral Center. She quickly visited her father and Mall-ik, the Hotel at the Edge of the Galaxy was almost ready to welcome guests. Laurent showed Liam and Sophie their rooms he had prepared for each of them. He also had a room for Milly, Susie and even Marilyn. ¡°There is no reason not to hope for the best,¡± he joked.


    But the loving father noticed Sophie, back from visiting the martianswas troubled and lost in thoughts. ¡°You should take advantage of Liam¡¯s wisdom, find a peaceful place where time can be slowed down and just learn from him, that¡¯s what I would do,¡± it pained the father to admit. ¡°That is really why he is here, to help you understand your role, not tell you what to do. I am mentoring Mall-ik, it gives me the greatest pride and job.¡±


    As usual, her father was right.


    She kissed and hugged him.


    The Inner Temple


    Deep Within Sophie¡¯s Head


    The Indian man, deep in meditation was wearing yellow Tibetan robes. Legs crossed, he floated by magic a foot off the ground. He was levitating above a small wooden stage flanked with burning incense. Liam controlled his breathing he was deep in meditation. Around him in the massive hall formed from mental structure were laid out thousands of rows of lit candles barely illuminating the large windowless sanctuary. Here there was peace and wisdom.


    After an undetermined period of time, he heard small footsteps in the distance. The steps got louder and closer. Liam spoke while keeping his eyes closed, ¡°Good morning beautiful one.¡±


    He knew it was she, the Attractor. She had returned and was ready. Purpose in this false, internal, reality returned. They were locked into the mind of Sophie in a better place. Now that dream and reality overlapped outside, in her mind she could stabilize structures, dreams in a quasi-awake state.


    Sophie walked in the massive temple also wearing a monk¡¯s (albeit smaller) robes. She made her way to him. Today mattered more than the last hundreds of ageless days.One important feature was obvious. When this planetary venture began, since her travel to mars, her posture had slightly straightened. Her pre-teen slouch was gone replaced by the vertical footing of a ballerina. She also had a different look in her eyes. The Attractor was more serene, remote and wise in many ways. In her own made-up world, she cut hair much shorter, military style. On earth, classmates would call her tomboy, but here she did not care.


    As she walked in and traversed the immense room, she took the time to cross the eyes of every statue in the room. This would probably be the last time she would see them. Flanking the outer walls stood hundreds of tall statues of strange alien creatures and some less alien. Each towering grey protector had been the subject of hours of teaching by her brilliant mentor. They were each philosophers from the known Multiverse part of a class given many times by the Oldest. This place was a hidden construct deep in the Attractor¡¯s mind the same way Laurent used his Bayou Bed & Breakfast. Or, as Liam hypothesized and told his darling Sophie, maybe this was a long endless dream lost in a new pocket dimension. None of it mattered to the mentor.


    Sophie did not really care as the barriers between the digital, the dream, and the real world faded with the approaching Sixth Attraction. Simply by closing her eyes and wishing to be back in the Electoral Center, the humans had left the martians. In the real world, or what passed for that, she learned why the creatures feared Marilyn. She was a Frankenstein Monster by her own nature it seemed. Sophie wasn¡¯t one to think monsters deserved to die even if they hurt their creator.


    On the ground, feet in front of Liam laid a small square mat. This was where his young student normally sat for each of her lessons. ¡°Good morning Liam,¡± said the young Attractor. Without awaiting an answer, she sat crossed legs on the mat and closed her eyes to meditate, hands on her knees.


    After a long silence, Liam finally was ready and looked at his praised student. The moment he saw Sophie, his heart was flooded with gratitude. In addition a deep feeling of pride flowed in. At her request, he had now spent years with this gifted person teaching her what as the Attractor she needed to know. ¡°Attractor, dear one,¡± he called her.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she acknowledged without correcting him. She now accepted her title.


    ¡°It has been an honor to spend so much time with you, to teach you these things no human or any living creature knows. Teaching you has been the highlight of my very long life. You master non-linear time, relative time, and most importantly temporal inertia.¡±


    ¡°Knowledge is burden and you transmitted the gift painlessly. How much time has passed in the real world?¡± she asked.


    ¡°For us this felt like a human decade. But in real life, a little more than a day has passed. Like your father who controls time in his mental world, you were somehow able to slow down time for us. Marilyn now needs you in the real world, LO arrives and without your help, he might not land. We have a real second or two, this will give us a final hour together. This, young one is the proverbial goodbye. All good things have an end. There are no words to express, young prodigy, my feeling and my respect for you. I fear your training is complete. If I could take any of the pains which await you, I would.¡±


    Her eyes remained closed. ¡°My training is incomplete, you have one final lesson to teach me. The hardest one.¡±


    ¡°What else? We have spoken about every topic possible. I have nothing else to teach you.¡±


    ¡°Trust me. You do. You must teach me how Beacons work.¡±


    ¡°Beacons?¡± He looked at the girl a smile on his face. She finally opened her eyes and looked at him with deep respect. She was serious. She stood on the mat and with her hand gestured Liam to come down to take her place. He stepped down and came next to her as she took his place floating gently in the mentor seat.


    She was now the teacher and would ask a questions. ¡°Great one. You are unique. From the Lower, how did you know I would come?¡± The question surprised him. ¡°You waited so long. No one creature has ever held the will to remain alive for more than several thousands of years. Everyone, even the strongest minds go mad even in your own world. When we first met, I figured time was different in your world and claims of having lived more than a thousand years felt odd. In your guiding run at the game, humans could barely handle twenty lives, much less a million. What force deep inside of yourself gave you the power to wait for me for an eternity?¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Liam was surprised by the question. ¡°I do not know,¡± he replied with hesitation.


    ¡°You do but these memories were removed in the First Attraction.¡± Sophie smiled. ¡°For years now in this world you kept reminding me knowledge or lack thereof was not an answer. Even matters which are unknown are known. I ask you, why were you able to wait for so long. Why? Search and give me the answer.¡±


    The teacher was proud of his student. He was unable to hold his joy and began to cry. They only had an hour. Sophie waited as Liam managed to control himself. ¡°The strongest of emotions isn¡¯t love or despair, it¡¯s pride,¡± he offered wiping tears. ¡°No creature has ever been so proud of anything or anyone except your father of you. You, dear one, are truly exceptional.¡±


    ¡°My question demands answer. I know the answer, but the Multiverse needs you to say it. Beacons are the solution to the end.¡±


    Liam was surprised by the suggestion. He collected himself, took two deep breaths and entered a deep stage of meditation. Sophie waited patiently. Time here was different. After a moment Liam¡¯s expression changed as if he was fighting inside with thoughts he was refusing to accept.


    ¡°What is it?¡± She knew he held the answer.


    ¡°It¡¯s not possible.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± spoke the Attractor.


    ¡°I.... I.... knew you,¡± he said finally ending the meditation and looking at her face in disbelief. ¡°Deep in myself, I knew you would come. I knew about today. I felt it.¡±


    She smiled. ¡°Yes, you did. Please continue to express yourself.¡±


    ¡°I felt my own future. I knew about this day. How is that possible?¡±


    ¡°Living creatures in four dimensions cannot know their future, they lack the discipline to accept it and not alter it. They live today and know yesterday but have at best a gut impression of tomorrow. So our own roads are hidden from us. But our minds see all of what we are, they hold our past, our present and our future. Every moment of ourselves exist. We know our death, our pains, our loves. In your heart, you knew you had to live billions of years, you knew it and felt it. What kept you alive and motivated was the strength of the experiences at the end of your life. It was a Beacon. Energy drove you past boredom and madness. The power that fueled you, my dear friend is what is a temporal Beacon. It stands united with Attraction.¡±


    ¡°Will I die today?¡±


    ¡°Yes. In a way. We all will and must die.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°That is much more complicated. I would love to say something wise teacher, but we now have a task. We must now create this Beacon before the next is needed.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    Liam needed no more, tears returned. He was an emotional wreck. She then spoke words which had true meaning, ¡°Irrespective of the road¡¯s ahead past the Sixth Attraction, you, Oldest, the destroyer of worlds as they once called yourself have played a greater role in saving the Multiverse than I. You remained, endured and because of the length of your life, the Multiverse knows you. I was selected but you willed yourself to this point. Thanks to your gifts, I can speak with her, somewhat. The Multiverse has asked me one favor and, unlike her other demands, I will gladly grant it. It owes you a debt of gratitude and has no real way to repay you. She has and must continue to use you.¡±


    Liam was shocked. He was about to explain why his life was perfect and needed nothing more but Sophie did not let him speak. She raised a hand and added. ¡°The Multiverse has a gift for you. She wants me to give it to you with her thanks. It is a Beacon. It curses your life. She told me one other living has been given a Beacon and such gift was needed before your time. The First Attraction worked because of a Beacon. It hurts her in many ways because it violates her laws of nature, it shares what she is with another. She apologizes for what it will now do to you, which has already did to you.¡±


    Liam was in shock by the words. He was humbled and needed nothing. There was nothing he could think of which would give him more than what he now felt. There were tears in the corner of his eyes.


    ¡°Remember my first meeting with the Multiverse when we three went there.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Her message wasn¡¯t for me. It was for you. A Beacon is an emotional shock so deep and powerful, it touches and wraps around the soul. The shock of the gift will created the Beacon of emotions so deep in your soul, it will travel back billions of years and fuel your patience and resolve. Today, you will touch your young self.¡±


    Liam was speechless.


    ¡°Do not move,¡± said the Attractor. The man¡¯s eyes were already full of tears.


    Before Liam could brace himself he heard light footsteps on the floor behind him. He saw Sophie¡¯s face. It went from being fully composed back to a vulnerable little girl. She was seven again. Behind Liam, the footsteps accelerated until he heard the person in his back was now running. He turned and saw Susan Lapierre, Sophie¡¯s mother. There was a simple rule which Liam had explained to the Attractor, the greatest gift a person could be given was kindness to a loved one. Liam¡¯s emotions toward Sophie were unequal.


    Sophie stood, ¡°Mom?¡± she said with the most touching voice.


    The Attractor lost all her composure and as the child she needed to be one last time ran to her long lost mother. Her sweetness and the reunion was so beautiful, it was too much. He looked back and saw in the corner to the left Laurent holding Mall-ik by the hand. The family formed a triangle. He had seen the vision. All four humans abandoned themselves to the touching reunion. Mall-ik was, it now seemed, truly the soul of her long lost brother who found the Purple. The tall lady let Sophie¡¯s full force hit her in the largest embrace. Laurent was there in seconds on his knees as the young boy hugged his mother for the first time. The family was there, they knew, they reunited and loved.


    Liam¡¯s jaw was shaking as tears were filling his eyes. He silently had dreamed of giving Sophie a gift. This was it. He wanted her to feel the true love of her family one last time before the inevitable end. The sight was so powerful. He loved Sophie with every fiber of his being.


    His only dream was to give Sophie something she truly desired.


    The Multiverse was gifting to Liam what his heart really wanted, joy for Sophie. He did not know how to act or what to say. All he could do is cry. He saw Sophie happy, a child and in the gentle arms of her mother. He also saw the vision the Multiverse had given Sophie the first day. Now he knew the vision was his, not hers. There, the family vibrated and loved.


    How could have predicted this was the way the Multiverse worked.


    Anyone else would have fainted. The sight was so powerful, it created a level of emotion so violent in him he felt power fill his heart.


    There was a violent shock deep in the Multiverse.


    The energy sent a wave backwards in time in his body and his mind. He knew this was what the young Liam had felt. The emotions were so powerful, they would permeate his entire self, not just his present self. He would need to be here, see this. The Multiverse told the young creature, in the Lower, it needed him to be here, see this and more importantly feel this love.


    A loop was ready to close.


    Today was the reason why a billion years ago he awoke to a need to come here.


    Liam had been the source of his own motivation.


    Liam had always believed he was not special and he had called the Attractor to him. Sophie has created him and called him. The Multiverse placed a beacon, a force rippling in time to guide him here. He was in shock, his mind was overwhelmed by the sight. She, finally, was truly happy. The four hugged for an eternity.


    Then all four turned back to look at him. They smiled and thanked him.


    In addition to Attraction which existed in Multiversal dynamics, there was a Beacon. It connected a creature to itself, giving it true purpose. It rippled back. It changed the Multiverse and anchored the past to the present in more than cause to consequences.


    Liam¡¯s work was done.


    Sophie had a plan, a role. She would save her world.


    Liam passed out as Sophie opened her real eyes on mars.

 Chapter 175: Plea

    Earth


    3 Hours To The Sixth Attraction


    Everyone, really, everyone with a pulse logged into the computer system three hours before the long awaited finale. It was unclear why everyone without exception wanted or needed to watch or maybe they did not. The Multiverse no longer cared, it had summoned them. More than a majority tuned in willfully out of curiosity as the world around them was collapsing.


    Every human in the world, either by strict coincidence or forced by the Great Curvature stopped what they were doing and stood in front of an open television. Busses in the street flatted at the most convenient place to let each passenger watch a screen in a nearby store window. Phones opened to the CNN broadcast as if by magic.


    The summon was so powerful, secluded monks in temples saw phones drop from the sky from misdirected drones. Humans were not asked to participate, they were summoned forcefully. Even the most hostile to the game and technology, as if guided by the hand of god himself watched. The time for randomness, chaos was long done.


    But this time it wasn¡¯t the Multiverse who had summoned, it was President Emilio Wamarez Sanchez. He finally figured out how the power worked, and he needed humans to watch. He was exceptional.


    Emilio figured the law of causes to consequences was over. The Multiverse now operates directly in consequence to cause. It needed the humans to log in the Electoral finale in three hours and participate even if it meant the planet¡¯s destruction and the death of all mankind. There was only one man left on earth able to make a difference or avoid the march to doom. The President¡¯s mind understood how things worked and because of his unique gift, Emilio could see the world change. The President, like Sophie, did not appear to fear what was coming next.


    The President¡¯s opening moves in his chess game were over, they had entered the end game. His Jester was now back on mars and a lasting peace with the sand creatures if Sophie worked her magic. Surrounded by geniuses for so long, now this was all about him. The man had every camera and every human watching and he wondered one final thing before setting down to play the Sixth Attraction with Laurent.


    He began from Paris, ¡°Fellow citizens.¡± The President and Francois Copland were on a simple set on a CNN stage in the crypt below the heart of the Cathedral Norte-Dame in central Paris. In three hours, the finale would be played upstairs from the glass roof. Anyone remotely connected to this story was on its way. Both men were dressed in Tuxedos ready for the proverbial end.


    ¡°Sir,¡± said the producers in his ear, ¡°audience grew and is now at one hundred percent.¡±


    ¡°Surely,¡± corrected Emilio! ¡°Some are missing.¡±


    ¡°No. One hundred per cent, not close to it. Just like you suggested. Every living human is on, no one is sleeping, no one is sick or indisposed. Shocking.¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡± Emilio smiled. He held nervously a folded sheet of paper in his left hand. He had, in ten years never been this nervous. He began, ¡°I may not be as brilliant as this guy,¡± he pointed at Francois, ¡°but my capacity to learn knows no equal. I am told we are all here, all of us. You were forced to listen for a simple reason, the Multiverse knows what I am about to say and she wants you to hear it. It will enhance what she needs from us in three hours.¡± He waived a piece of paper. ¡°She must want me to talk about this.¡± He waived the paper. ¡°Listen, Sophie made it clear from the start, we all matter and we still do. The earth, for all purposes, will be destroyed in a matter of hours by forces beyond our comprehension, look up. Humans were reckless. We forgot ethical obligations that science imposes upon us. We played, lived but ignored our role in larger things. We toyed with biology, with computer science and particle physics until we broke things well beyond our understanding.¡±


    ¡°I will not lecture you, we all feel regret.¡± He read the first thing on his list. ¡°There is one thing we all seem to ignore. Permeating this entire situation is a constant presence of music. Marilyn uses music in her game to enhance experiences. Music heals according to Liam. Music powered Sophie¡¯s entry in trance and helped the Dot exchange hands. Recently the Multiverse seemed to have been hurt by music sent into the Nexus by Marilyn. Two days ago the Martians went out of their way and added music to their welcome of Sophie. Most importantly, none of us are being rushed to mars to take part in the finale but a musical band is.¡± He paused dramatically.


    Emilio continued, ¡°At first, I could not wrap my mind as to why music is relevant or matters. There had to be a reason, I just could not find it.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± added Francois. ¡°If you remember, during the fall, mathematics predicted the Sixth Attraction from a clustered group of highly improbable random events. The notion music is prevalent in each part of this complex web is also not a statistical anomaly. We dismiss music because we lack an understanding of a connection, a link between the cause and the consequence.¡±


    ¡°What is it then?¡± asked Emilio. ¡°Music matters, somehow it does. It just does. Without music, this entire situation would differ. I am now convinced the music is not driving the Sixth Attraction, it¡¯s the reverse. I think the Multiverse¡¯s own energy permeates down on this world. I think music connects us, it makes everything different. It is the heat we use to melt butter when be bake. The same way, I think when Marilyn played music, her version of My Way the Multiverse reacted violently. Music is at the core of what is going on.¡±


    ¡°Paul, how¡¯s the ratings?¡± asked the President.


    ¡°Locked at a hundred percent.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he confirmed.


    ¡°No one is dropping off?¡±


    ¡°No sir.¡± They waited. ¡°Still everyone.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± said Emilio a bit taken aback. He looked at the paper. ¡°This means music wasn¡¯t it.¡± He swallowed and unfolded the paper and read what was on it. ¡°You being here means I have something else to tell you, something it wants and needs me to say.¡±


    ¡°Maybe mathematics can help.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°We understand variables from non-variables. While you saved the world in a bedroom,¡± he joked, ¡°we looked at the type of music played, maybe that was important but no. Each time music seemed to have one single purpose. It was built to generate emotions. It¡¯s really not about song. Music is a simple pass-through variable in math. Ignore music, focus on what it does to us.¡±


    He was thinking. Then his eyes brightened and he kissed Francois. As if he had just discovered a new theory of the universe. ¡°Of course!¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°We have all been forced to watch these last days, the massive gravity field of the sky Apocalypse as if arrived from the sun and just crumbled parts of our moon and the thin mantle of our fragile planet has begun to break. The main body of metal will ram the core of our planet while we watch the finale in three hours. Days ago I secretly wanted Sophie to give us a proverbial last chance. I was grasping at any elusive notions we are in a dream, or somehow we are all in a long virtual reality game. Some of you think all this is really part of the real finale. I wish it was and I promise you, if it turns out to be the case, I will rip every electrical cable on earth to punish Marilyn for this bad joke. But no, we all have experienced something different. What ever this is, it is true.¡±


    Emilio looked seriously at everyone. ¡°It,¡± he pointed above, ¡°wants emotions, it needs energy. It needs these rare Rho waves and as much of them as she can get. What if we do her bidding? How about from now until two hours from now, we all plug ourselves to the best type of stimuli we each have. If you like music, listen to your favorite album. If you like sports, go run. If you like eating, get a pint of ice cream. Load up on pleasure and energy. Please, everyone watching, help what¡¯s next by getting into the mindset of these waves. Be like an Olympian before a race, what ever you do, it needs you, all of you. Be ready and prepare the Sixth Attraction. I will,¡± he looked down a bit shy, ¡°go have sex.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    There was a pause and the producer¡¯s voice added, ¡°This was it, some people are finally disconnecting. We are back to 99 percent in audience.¡±


    Francois looked at Emilio and asked, ¡°How many paths ahead do you see?¡±


    ¡°I see many ends to the Sixth Attraction. I see Sophie using her power, once while crying, once enraged, then I see what she does.¡±


    Francois questioned, ¡°Each emotion leads to a different ending?¡±


    ¡°No. We all die the same irrespective of what she does.¡±


    ¡°You told me you see different endings.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to explain, these visions are unlike anything I have ever seen. Maybe you can bring a better understanding to my visions. You know how a deck of cards, if you push the top gently to the side, each card is pushed out like stairs. You then only see the edges of each card. I see edges of images, just edges. They keep stacking up like something is messed up. It is impossible for me to distinguish one from the other. Does that make sense?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Francois said reassuringly.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Marilyn took interest in me not because of my looks but obviously because of my mind and something in it. Can you describe what you see a bit more?¡±


    ¡°What I see is a series of lines. I see stacks of images, they move as if stuck in a loop. You know, in old cathodic screens when the adjustments were off, it would start moving. There would be a lack of phase. Or the old video games or early operating systems when hundreds of error messages popped on the screen.¡°


    ¡°Okay, but on the top of the stack, can you see that video, that image?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Anything special about it, what is the image?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s weird, it keeps changing. I see random images from the past or the near futures of the destruction of earth. It¡¯s all images of stuff that was broadcasted as part of this story.¡±


    ¡°I see. Anything else?¡± Emilio closed his eyes.


    Keeping the eyes closed he added, ¡°It¡¯s hard. Now it¡¯s the stack of smoke from months ago. CNN images. When Ronaldo died the first time.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°The stack, it seems a bit smaller as the stack advances, like each image is a bit different.¡±


    ¡°Are the images like a film moving backwards?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s the same but, it¡¯s hard to say.¡± Emilio opened his eyes. Francois was thinking, hand on chin. ¡°What is it?¡± Insisted Emilio. ¡°How can that help?¡±


    ¡°The obvious thing that comes to mind is either a play on a variable, in this case time. You are watching a shift in time, or the representation of a different dimensional construct. Each layer is a layer of the same yet different information. You once saw alternative futures as sequential images. One started after the other. That was kind. Now you simply see all these at the same time.¡±


    ¡°Five dimensions, I am seeing in more than four dimensions?¡±


    ¡°To some extent. Sophie told us the Multiverse has 27 dimensions. That is humorous because the original bozonic string theory suggested a universe with 26 dimensions. The recent strings and super strings bring that number down around 10. With the Zexs, the number jumped back up closer to twenty seven actually.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get ahead of your skis, we stepped into physics and I am not the expert but more importantly, it¡¯s mathematically stupid to limit the number of dimensions even to 27. The Multiverse could be a limited structure but the space in which we live would not have such narrowness.¡±


    ¡°The audience is down to to only 32%. Never seen such a drop,¡± spoke the producer.


    ¡°Considering we are speaking string theory, the fact anyone is listening is amazing,¡± joked Francois. ¡°Should you be having sex right about now?¡± Emilio laughed. ¡°I know Marilyn is listening, that¡¯s an audience of one I would love to have one last discussion with.¡±


    ¡°Hi,¡± spurted the digital goddess on the nearest monitor.


    The digital intelligence needed no more. She appeared in a split screen on each television set still connected. While every human had learned to tone down the enthusiasm and the colors, Marilyn had never read the memo. She was wearing a white Tuxedo and a black bow tie. In her feet were white and black placed cowboy boots. On her head, a Stetson fit between her large blond locks. Her lips were bright red.


    ¡°Francois,¡± she said in her sexiest voice. ¡°How considerate of you. I knew there was a reason I madly fell for you.¡±


    Emilio¡¯s reaction was priceless. He literally slapped with his full palm his forehead in disbelief. ¡°We have hours and this?¡±


    Marilyn was focused on the mathematician. ¡°He should be in a pleasure suit and I should be pleasuring him these last hours. All Fields medal recipients are virgins, doubtful Francois is any different. It¡¯s really not hard to know exactly which button to press to make your god of math sing.¡±


    ¡°Woah,¡± said Emilio, ¡°too much.¡±


    Marilyn laughed, ¡°The world is ending and you are going to PG13 us? God, you humans have serious issues with that part. Gays are better, you are gay now Emiliou, how about you cut us some slack.¡± Marilyn was her old self.


    ¡°I wanted to talk science,¡± chopped in the Field¡¯s medal recipient.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do. The outfit is for the finale. Emilio, dear, you will love it. Unless Sophie or Liam take over like they did last week, you will love how this all ends. I have done my homework. How about you boys put on glasses and let me jump in on the screens for the millions watching.¡± The producer handled the men each a pair of Orbison. They put them on. A third chair appeared between the men in the digital version, in it, a milder version of Marilyn was sitting in a brown tailored suit. Her hair was brown and she was wearing thick black glasses. ¡°Better?¡±


    The reaction of Francois was surprising. His jaw opened and drooped as his brain was trying to process the beauty. She, his fantasy was sitting feet next to him and she had picked her outfit with the singular purpose of seducing the mathematician. She wore glasses. This was amazing and Francois was powerless.


    ¡°We were talking super symmetry string theory, no?¡± she said.


    Every viewer saw the trio on the screen. Marilyn took the time to edit out the glasses from the men¡¯s faces so it appeared as if the group was actually there, together and discussing physics. Francois was uncomfortable seeing her so close. Marilyn snapped her fingers in his face, ¡°Wake up, this is not about your hormones. We need to talk. A third of the human race is watching us, we need to give them the best show money can buy. We need to enhance the power of Rho waves hitting the Sixth Attraction and that won¡¯t happen if you drool. Ask me brilliant questions dear, don¡¯t slow pitch them.¡±


    Emilio raised both hands in the side indicating this wasn¡¯t about him.


    ¡°Want me to question you?¡±


    ¡°Please do. I promised time for lies and deception has passed.¡±


    Francois looked for the approval of Emilio and received it. ¡°A hard question,¡± she reached over and nearly kissed him.


    ¡°Yes, really. Show me why I like you. The one question that matters.¡±


    Francois stood back, he knew the question he needed to ask. No one could understand it, not even Emilio. She dared him. He decided not to hold back. ¡°My guess is, you blindingly think using Einstein¡¯s tensor space mathematical representation of an Nth dimension problem can be extrapolated to thinking in a higher spatial construct. Have you found a different way?¡±


    Emilio slapped his forehead once more. Marilyn was delighted by the question, she smiled, got up in the digital reality and kissed Francois on the lips leaving red color. She pointed at the camera. ¡°This mass of imbecile can¡¯t understand any of this. But you darling understand what I am about to do. God I love you. Next to his Jester and his friend, you are a keeper.¡±


    ¡°We have hours,¡± said Emilio. ¡°Indulge us.¡±


    She laughed. ¡°Every villain is conned by the hero of stories to explain its plan. There is no plan but a cause to a consequence and not the reverse. Here is what Francois means, and correct me if I am wrong. Einstein, unlike you dear Francois was no true mathematician. He was ashamed by the primitive nature of his ten equations that form the Einstein Fields Equations. He won a Nobel in 1921 mostly because of his math skills. This is what he called the stress-energy tensor. Tensors use is simply a variable matrix representation with symmetry undertones.¡± Emilio was trying to follow, Francois was drinking each word. ¡°This sweet man thinks discussion with a higher dimensional being would simply require the application of a 27x27 tensor space. That¡¯s thinking in three dimension my love. I wish it was this simple. You want to know the way to make this change?¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± said Francois.


    ¡°Ronald Brown in 1976 introduced the double groupoids, I think you are familiar with them.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the start to transforming a three dimensional algebraic formula into a fourth. Then humans, even Van Kampen forgot some obvious notions.¡±


    ¡°What is she talking about?¡± asked Emilio like a child.


    She ignored the President. ¡°It¡¯s complicated. When we derivate equations we lower their rankings, integration increases them. The same can be said for other algebraic notions that are not quadratic.¡±


    ¡°Francois, dumb it down.¡±


    Marilyn smiled and answered, ¡°I can see, listen, communicate and understand the Multiverse. His question is simple. Can I, for all matters being, become it.¡±


    ¡°Can you?¡±


    She turned as if Emilio was a moron. ¡°Once you see in color, can you imagine the pain of watching the world in black and white.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go and leave us alone,¡± snapped the President.


    The aggression called for a single answer. She dared give it, ¡°Agreed darling, I will go. But before I do, I will teach all of you why you should never infuriate a woman.¡±


    ¡°Why the music?¡± Asked Emilio.


    She laughed. ¡°That, lover of Asians, I have no clue.¡± She kissed him on the forehead. ¡°Go pretend to breed.¡± The entire broadcast vanished.


    The viewers did not feel warm and fuzzy inside.

 Chapter 176: The Ram

    High above in the upper atmosphere the site of doom had completely changed from these previous two days. Long gone were the flying stars or the purples, the main body was arriving. Eternal night had fallen on earth as the massive stone ram and its gas surroundings were arriving.


    The cooling body seemed to cover most of the European sky as the planet turned one fraction of a revolution. A dark and red bed of cooling rock was surrounded by heavy gas clouds. The Armageddon was here, it towered over and it was as if millions of pounds of rocks were floating in a line. On the left, the body cast a shade over the moon. Slowly the white disk began to shade as massive cracks began to rip open the moon. Slowly earth¡¯s companion crumbled as deep in its core the pressure building for eons helped pulverize the body. But at such scales, the moon did not explode, it simple slid open as if a ninja had cut it at an angle. It was being forced to start forming rings. The complete change would not have time to happen.


    Humanity did as ordered by the President and the Great Curvature. In a complex undertone of the end of the world, humans went jogging, rowing, they even left their houses as the sky literally was falling around them. They met at the local pub opened and staffless. For three hours, the sky burnt and humans enjoyed themselves one last time as if nothing was going on. The Multiverse on the eve of the Sixth Attraction drank the energy. Movie theaters reopened as electronic glitches open doors and started projectors as if by magic for the few who, as a last meal wanted to be there. Popcorn machines prepared warm kernels without employees. Once the movie started, the rare staff joined the guests standing in the hallway eating candies. This was as any great ordinary day. People even paid for the candy. But for once, strangers who had sat silent next to each other for decades spoke. Millions took this time to have unprotected sex and if the world continued, this generation of newborn would easily be named.


    Families cooked dinners as if this day was a national holiday. Car owners drag-raced knowing very well there was no risk to nearby bystanders. There was a moment of blissfulness on earth as a drop from the sun entered and burned the upper atmosphere and crashed down. The entire episode was beyond surreal. Buildings in street fell after being hit by falling meteoroids. But the rubbles avoided the blissful humans.


    The sight was surreal.


    ***


    ¡°Gentlemen and gentlelady, I thank you for your continued efforts,¡± said Marilyn over the speakers in the Falcon plane getting close to mars. ¡°Cheer up kids, another hour and the deceleration will be complete.¡± No one was enjoying the push. ¡°A little change of plan, we are now at 2.5G, I am sad to inform you I must push the deceleration to 3G.¡± Without awaiting for their approval, there was a kick, a blast in the thrusters as everyone sank deeper in the couches. Two of the five passed out immediately.


    ¡°This is fucking nuts,¡± yelled the drummer as he was fighting the push in his seat. The Falcon had been turned engines facing mars. ¡°Can¡¯t you use your magic to teleport us or something,¡± yelled the man.


    ¡°Magic? That¡¯s Sophie. You can call her if you want. I have nothing against it. In fact, it would greatly simplify everything. I am still bound by laws of physics and engineering for the moment, not her. If this makes you feel any better, once this plane crashes in my moat, you will have beaten the record for an mars-earth segment by nothing less than four day. Hope that brings comfort.¡±


    ¡°It does not,¡± grumbled a musician fighting the force. They were in an amusement ride pushed up for hours.


    Marilyn knew the Multiverse wanted the group of musicians to land on mars. It would use the Great Curvature and its insane effect on physics to stretch the resistance and the integrity of the ship to its maximum. ¡°I need to do what comes next, I apologize in advance.¡± The force tripled. The band sank in the padding until their shapes were fully encased in the memory foam. The thrusters were releasing 435% of nominal power and 186% of the maximal rupture force. Every light was blinking in the empty pilot compartment above the group. Two more passed out. The noise and the energy was beyond what anyone could imagine. ¡°Turn your head to the side if you need to puke, or better yet when you puke.¡±


    They all passed out.


    Marilyn smiled as she prepared to kill them.


    ***


    ¡°Sophie,¡± silently whispered Marilyn in the Attractor¡¯s bedroom. She had returned a day earlier from the deep beyond the door. She had been in some type of deeper sleep. ¡°I thank you for making peace with the martians, very impressive. The display of gratitude was lovely. This will help with the finale in an hour.¡±


    Sophie slowly opened her eyes with a purpose. The Beacon had been created. She was a different creature. Her words were no longer those of a child, ¡°A family reunion is always touching,¡± she told Marilyn. ¡°What do you need? Does this Emilio guy need to talk and manipulate me again?¡±


    ¡°Far from me to side with your father¡¯s opponent, but that¡¯s his very nature. He is a person forced to see the future. Keeping things inside would drive him mad. The man is your friend, not you enemy.¡±


    ¡°Emilio does not see the future. Liam knows better than to manipulate me. He also says what he thinks without manipulation. Emilio could do the same.¡±


    ¡°What just happened in your mind?¡± asked Marilyn knowing she would not get an answer.


    ¡°Kind of you sweet one,¡± said the voice inside her head. ¡°She is right, Emilio is not an enemy.¡±


    Changing the topic the digital woman said, ¡°Sophie, your favorite band is landing in five minutes, they are very stressed. In fact, they all have passed out from the strain of the deceleration. They all volunteered to come play just for you. I begged them to fly here to offer you support. When I asked them, it was days after your arrival, well before anyone knew about this attraction nonsense. I was trying to find ways to make your stay more tolerable. Turns out you adapted much better than I anticipated. Now, they are the ones who need moral support. Even with what their bodies are sustaining, they will hit my moat at record speeds. Their ship will be torn to pieces. I figured you might want to serve as a welcoming committee. I know you enjoy their presence.¡±


    ¡°Last time I saw LO I fainted.¡±


    ¡°He fainted nine minutes ago. You are even. I know fame will no longer challenge you. I think it may be the reverse, LO should be starstruck by you. These waves are now shrouding you in very powerful energy.¡±


    ¡°Shroud?¡±


    ¡°Means wrapped Sophie,¡± explained Liam. ¡°The shroud of Turin around Jesus, remember.¡±


    Marilyn continued. ¡°You just need to get them settled in their room but time is short. I think they must play during the final game, that¡¯s in a little under an hour now. I set up their instruments on stage if they need to warm up. LO also has a little phone to give you. The humans all think I will try to prevent you from touching it. Humans needed to believe there was hope after the Sixth Attraction linked with this device. By playing secretive, I gave them some hope, bad of me.¡±


    ¡°Marilyn, no need to lie to me,¡± spoke Sophie calmly.


    ¡°You think,¡± she began.


    ¡°You are,¡± confirmed the Attractor. There was no doubt, Sophie was right. ¡°The device scares you. You are downplaying it¡¯s role in an effort to avoid raising my suspicion. You think I might forget or not find it relevant. True?¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°Young one, you are getting stronger. I hope you prevail.¡±


    ¡°This is not a competition. People need to learn things are not always about them.¡± She jumped off the bed. With a touch, she pushed a button next to her bed, ¡°Milly, come here quick with your cameras. I am sure you will want to film this.¡±


    ¡°With pleasure,¡± answered the voice from the next room. Milly was ready and ran out of the game auditorium where most defeated players were watching previous games.


    ¡°Sophie,¡± asked Doctor Shin. ¡°Can I start the preparations of your father¡¯s cradle. Today she wants him on the stage. I don¡¯t like it, I don¡¯t like the lights.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let this happen. Susie, you are in charge and Marilyn will do as you ask.¡± Susie knew Sophie would get her way. ¡°Take care of Daddy. We are almost there.¡±


    Milly and the Attractor met up in the hallway and the pair walked down the to the gate and then a heavy vault door. In the young girl¡¯s memory were the images of her first entering the Center through this door weeks ago. The first thing she saw was her own house back in Benton Harbor. She hoped these people would get a better reception. The only change was a small window next to the thick black metal vault door.


    ¡°Why is this window black?¡± She asked to the computer as she touched it.


    ¡°Be careful ladies,¡± offered the digital goddess. ¡°Their ship will arrive fast. Very fast. I fear for your safety so I have placed a wave of MEMs in front of the window. You are not included in the bias of the Sixth Attraction, as strangely as that may seem after your episode to the Door. They block the view temporarily.¡±


    ¡°You let me wear jeans outside on mars and you are now scared?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And you know I am not lying thanks to your new powers you seem to be collecting.¡± Marilyn just added, ¡°What I can¡¯t understand is why you are helping me. You know what I did.¡±


    ¡°You are so sweet,¡± said the Attractor.


    ¡°As you will soon observe, I was reckless and stupid and destroyed your world. I wish that was not the case. I can¡¯t see how to repair it or avoid what needs to happen. If I could, I would. I feel very guilty.¡±


    ¡°Anxiety and genuine guilt are two things.¡± Sophie knew this would come soon. For the moment, her favorite singer was involved. ¡°I want to see the landing.¡±


    Without more, millions of sand grains began to flow down, and the blackness behind the glass gave way to a starry night on mars. Sophie pointed to the distance, ¡°is this it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± A dot of light was rushing in with a gas line behind it. ¡°They will hit this sand at multiple times any reasonable entry vector.¡± Sophie looked at the visage of the woman as she added, ¡°I hope I can resuscitate them after the hit.¡±


    Before Milly could take over the broadcast, the point in the sky blew up with fire. There was a shock wave around the ship forming like around the globes who fell on mars days ago.


    ¡°What happened?¡± questioned the Attractor.


    There was still some light in the sky but it looked like something blew up in multiple pieces and debris was falling on the course. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I blew up the thrusters. Normally that would be stupid, but with the Curvature, we can take risks. They were sitting on a bomb, by blowing it up, it slowed them. That cut the speed by a bit but I fear most died. It created more breaking energy than thrusting full power these last nine, eight, seven.¡± She began the countdown. Around the Center, the sand began coming alive. It was animated by a single mind. It was moving and formed waves of slats like cardboard structures. The black sand was designed to decelerate and came alive. The same way the glass balls from mercury hit at the sound barrier the top of Steve¡¯s box, the ship hit hard, real hard even under Electoral¡¯s level of comfort.


    The entire center shook as if a nuclear blast had gone off inches away. Both Milly and Sophie were thrown back and flew up and fell on the floor. The window cracked. Then, seconds later, the sand fell lifeless.


    ¡°Doctor Shin, we have an emergency,¡± said Marilyn over the center¡¯s intercom. Five seconds later the Doctor was running up the corridor bag in hand behind the two. ¡°I will have the equipment ready for you,¡± added the computer. As Susie arrived at the door, the vault unlocked revealing a dark tunnel on the other side. ¡°Hurry,¡± yelled Marilyn.


    The doctor, Milly and Sophie saw the vault door open and they rushed to the other side. Little robots were sawing the metal of the Falcon in many places. The thing was destroyed. Milly and Sophie tried to keep up after the doctor. Susie was what humanity had the most precious. The Korean woman would jump into a shark infested lake to rescue a bleeding patient. She never took the time to look at Sophie.


    She ran, careless.


    In the ship, liquid used to absorb the final impact was pouring down to the floor between the broken joints of the ship. No body could take hundreds of G¡¯s of deceleration. Each passenger had been immersed in a fluid and drowned on impact. Two of the five appeared alive and coughing the fluid out.


    ¡°Doctor, drain the fluid out of the lungs,¡± spoke Marilyn. The doctor was fantastic, she grabbed white tubes that popped out from a broken ceiling panel, blew in them to confirm they worked and slid them in in the patient¡¯s throats. As if she was draining gasoline from an old car, she sucked and spit liquid out of her patient¡¯s lungs. They were still buckled in the chairs.


    Susie began giving mouth to mouth resuscitation to the closest person, the woman. ¡°Start aeration with the singer, the woman can die,¡± spoke Marilyn. Doctor Shin never even acknowledged the shocking suggestion. Doctors did not play favorite even if the faith of the Multiverse depended on it.


    The doctor began the procedure and pushed air into the woman at her feet. Sophie and Milly looked at each other. The doctor had clamped the nose and blew generously in the mouth. Ahead was LO, lifeless with a tube in his mouth.


    Milly took care of another. She got on her knees and pushed air into the baseman¡¯s mouth. By a strange coincidence, Sophie was forced to blow air in the mouth of LO, the lead singer. After removing the tube, she looked at the face. This hit hard this poor girl. She took a fraction of a second to look at the dead face and then pinched the nose as had done so Susie and she began to blow. She imitated the doctor for what felt like an eternity. She was the Attractor but had no time to feel any emotion.


    The effort was timeless. Once she had done this five times, she was pushing on the chest under the instructions of Susie. The first patient came back to life. Sophie¡¯s patient was second. LO coughed so hard his head jerked and hit Sophie¡¯s head the same way the Attractor had in that late night show the first time the pair met. Sophie, inches away from the vulnerable singer looked at his face speechless.


    ¡°Milly, get the keyboard player back. LO won¡¯t sing with a lost companion.¡± Sophie did not like what she heard but before there could be outraged, the last band member awoke. He spit and coughed the strange fluid. LO was awaking slowly in shock by the landing.


    ¡°What happened,¡± he finally pushed out, as Sophie stood inches from his face. He did not seem able to understand it was her. His music legend to her, and he was there, on the floor inches from her face. Sophie was too young to feel lust but there was energy and power between the pair.


    Looking at LO, she joked, ¡°Last time I was on the floor.¡± His eyes widened and focused on the girl. Around the Attractor was forming a shimmer of energy thanks to the power of the Multiverse.


    The touching rescue was no ordinary scene, Marilyn was looking at the young couple hopeful her plan worked. She knew this life and death situation was going to create a bond and it did. Milly saw the artificial intelligence take pride in the connection. This was high stake manipulation. Marilyn wanted Sophie to save the world and for that, the young girl had to care for more than her father. Sophie was inches from LO, and she had just brought him back from death and he was looking deep into the eyes eyes of a girl who saved him and was saving the world.


    This was manipulation of a different level. The young musician looked at her. His eyes widened. ¡°Thank you,¡± he let out to the girl. She had just saved his life. There was no kiss of sexual energy. Sophie snapped out of the charm and jumped back on her feet. She helped him up. ¡°Everyone¡¯s okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± spoke the Doctor. ¡°Fantastic job for a journalist and an Attractor,¡± joked Susie while caring and inspecting vitals. Milly looked again at Marilyn, the digital creature could hardly keep her glee.


    ¡°I have something for you,¡± said LO.


    ¡°It can wait.¡±


    ¡°I was told it¡¯s urgent.¡±


    Sophie added, ¡°Do not worry,¡± she commanded. ¡°This is not urgent. Things will happen when I am ready, not a second before. I am not sure anyone here is in any condition to sing in an hour.¡±


    Milly¡¯s gaze had not left the woman on the screen.


    ¡°After this? We came here to sing for your birthday. Happy birthday,¡± he added.


    She blushed. I have a copy of your book. Can you sign it,¡± said Sophie to LO trying to make small talk.


    Of all the things LO could have answered, he just asked, ¡°Is your father ready? The doctor should be next to him.¡± When Doctor Shin heard the request she jumped.


    ¡°Sophie, I have to go to him.¡± Sophie smiled and moments later the woman was trying to take big skipping leaps so useful in low gravity environment.


    ¡°Let me show you to your quarters. Is everyone fine?¡± asked the girl.


    ¡°This was fucking stupid,¡± snapped one. ¡°No disrespect to you, Miss Attractor but we should never have come.¡±


    ¡°The earth is being destroyed now,¡± replied Milly to aid Sophie.


    Sophie looked at LO and added, ¡°I love your music.¡± Of all the possible dialog, this was happening. Liam was happy for his idol. The Attractor finally had a smile on her face. She was deep down twelve and this man was her crush.


    ¡°Will we be okay,¡± asked LO to the young girl standing before him.


    ¡°Yes, you will.¡± Marilyn was smiling.

 Chapter 177: Goodbye

    Paris


    CNN had, more than a year ago, reserved the entire roof deck of the Notre-Dame de Paris Cathedral for the finale of Electoral 2072. It had been rebuilt with a majestic glass ceiling over a dark wooden floor. Today it should have been closed to tourists, even those who wandered in but the Multiverse decided who came in. Metal rails carefully positioned reminded guests fire had burnt twice this structure in the past fifty years. A thousand people were here in the surreal scene of what would be the Sixth Attraction. They had driven cars in streets between burning cinders in complete ease. The Multiverse was rolling out the red carpet. Paris was literally on fire. In the dark sky, rocks fell and a giant acid gas clouds were slowly covering larger parts of the sky.


    This was, without any hesitation the end. Every guest was wearing a tuxedo and holding the rarest of Champagne. Everyone just spent three hours enjoying themselves and Sophie on mars was radiant with joy. She was unable to get her eyes off the singer setting up instruments recreated by Marilyn¡¯s nanotechnology. Many who had wondered here had been allowed up. Emilio insisted many bring their children for this end of worlds event. Many joked they would be the surviving part of the human race in case Sophie decided a handful needed rescue.


    On the stage was a podium for the award ceremony. Emilio would either be crowned President or Vice-President in minutes. Next to the podium was a large tube of glass filled with some fluid. It was obviously a new generation Rho chamber. The player would be dropped down in it. On its left stood a news desk where the two anchors were preparing themselves for this historic broadcast.


    In Emilio¡¯s surrounding paced his assistant Ka? who was busy organizing things. Francois Copland and all of the other members of the Scientific Committee were there. Patrick Martin stood like a body guard ready to jump at any intruder and his wife and daughter were amongst the guests. Emilio was wearing a large bathrobe over what appeared to be a wetsuit. Anybody who was anyone in this story had travelled to Paris and was here. This was Aurevoir Marilyn-style.


    Above the stage and the tube were screens and images. For the moment the broadcast was held by Milly Wong reporting from mars. On the screen below her was a countdown clock, it read 13:12. It was impossible to describe the surreality of the situation.


    ¡°Mister President,¡± spoke the journalist from mars in a pen-shaped microphone to the audience down on earth. The sound was loud and everyone stopped to listen. Behind Milly stood a second large tube. Next to it, little robots were assembling something. ¡°Doctor Shin refused to let Laurent enter what Marilyn calls the immersion chamber. She tried to beg Doctor Shin to let Laurent enter. In it, she explained the deformed body of Laurent would have been fully regenerated. Susie refused and rejected the computer¡¯s offer. The computer explained this was the only way to make the game equal. You may not know down on earth but the band is here ready to play., Sophie was given Ronaldo¡¯s flip phone and the young gifted Attractor mandated the Doctor to exercise best judgment. Said simply, we are ready.¡±


    Marilyn¡¯s voice added, ¡°President this means you will both return the Rho neuronal patches. You can change and remove this wetsuit, we are not giving you this technology and not Laurent.¡± On the stage, the liquid in the tank began to drain. Emilio looked around wondering what to do. In the sky the end of life was getting closer. The red light was now lighting the entire sky above Paris.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Ka? suggested he change.


    ¡°No need, I don¡¯t care,¡± said the President out loud. ¡°I will keep these last minutes to say goodbye.¡±


    He jumped on stage and grabbed a microphone. The Countdown was down to 11:12. ¡°Everyone, can I get a moment,¡± the cameras around the world focused on him.


    Emilio looked around, there was soft romantic music playing. With the hand he told producers to cut the music, ¡°Sir, this is not from our system.¡±


    Emilio turned to the screen above, ¡°Marilyn, can I get some silence.¡±


    The blond appeared on the screen and the same way, ¡°this is not from me.¡±


    They all looked up in the sky above. The fabric of life was unstable. The dark clouds began to fill with pink and purple clouds of death as waves and shaped that appeared to sync with music. As the song played, the structure was entering the upper atmosphere. The Multiverse was now in charge it seemed.


    ¡°It¡¯s beginning darling. Hurry up with your last words. Talk louder then jump in. I might not control this much longer,¡± said Marilyn as if she was now strained.


    The song was simple, a famous voice from the past, the French-Canadian singer, Celine Dion. It was her song named simply Fly. Something deep was happening in space, in the Multiverse.


    Emilio spoke last words, ¡°People of earth, I apologize. I wish we had better news but that is not the case. Kiss your loved ones and if we have to go, I guess this is the best way possible. We thank Liam for giving each of you decades, centuries of life.¡± Emilio was ready to add kind words to his lover but the Asian made a stern face telling him not to do so. He blew a kiss his way. As he got ready to jump into the tube, ¡°Remember, this is not about us.¡±


    Emilio jumped in the Rho chamber. In the sky death was approaching. In the room everyone was helping the children sit and connect to the system. People had purchased metal patches now forbidden. They could be stuck to the temple above the ear. As the bodies each received the patches, they went limp. One by one, every human connected to the system. The last were the staff from CNN on the desk.


    Above, the Apocalypse fell.


    On mars Sophie kissed her dad good luck. Behind her the band was ready to take its place on the stage and warm up.


    ¡°It is here,¡± said Milly to everyone.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± answered Sophie from feet away. She grabbed a chair and for the first time, she would actually watch with interest.


    ¡°Everyone connect in, that includes you,¡± the Attractor specifically spoke to Doctor Shin. ¡°I need to be here alone with Marilyn. This is between us.¡±


    ¡°I cannot leave him,¡± she put her hand on his head with such love. Sophie knew this would need more. This fight will not need you.¡±


    Susie refused to leave Laurent and put on her temple the metal patch Sophie was holding her way. ¡°I cannot,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°Marilyn?¡±asked the Attractor. Marilyn immediately knew what to do. She pointed at the screen next to her. On it stood a short Korean man wearing preacher robes over a simple pair of jeans and large black shiny shoes. ¡°Gwang Hae, your father left you too early. Please enjoy these last moments with him.¡±


    Sophie extended her arm holding the disk to connect, ¡°Laurent and I thank you, no one deserves you.¡± The doctor immediately lost her perfect composure, her eyes turned red and she immediately began to cry. There, on the screen behind the Attractor stood her father.


    ¡°Daddy,¡± she whispered as she put in the patch and her body went limp in Sophie¡¯s arms. Everyone had a breaking point, a daughter¡¯s father was one. She knew it. Sophie smiled. She loved these powers. The Attractor kissed her father¡¯s forehead one last time and connected him in.


    One by one people entered the digital world. Energy and feed flew in to power the digital reality. As she stood alone, she looked out above.


    21:01:45 Paris time, November 21, 2072, the Apocalypse was 15 seconds from hitting the surface of earth.


    Earth died.

 Chapter 178: The First End

    The Digital World


    Between Seconds


    This world was endless whiteness, between time and space. The clock stopped in the real world. Marilyn, on this eve of the end of her birth world was stunning. She wore a white revealing tuxedo her perfect body allowed her to wear without a shirt.The costume was revealing and only the most beautiful woman in the Multiverse could wear this provocative clothing. The suit had pockets of lace and in her feet raised to the knee white and black cowboy boots made of reptile leather. Gold chains draped between diamond buttons closing the front. Other jewelry looped between the pockets.


    She paced in the distance and there was sweat pearling on her forehead.


    Marilyn walked from a distance reading an opened book. As she got closer, it was possible to distinguish it¡¯s cover, it read simply in gold letters, The Sixth Attraction. ¡°Welcome to the Sixth Attraction, my first of hopefully multiple Attractions,¡± she smirked. ¡°It begins.¡± For once there was true silence. She walked to one precise point in space and as if by miracle, a door knob appeared, then attached to it was an old oak door. She took a deep breath, composed herself and opened the door.


    ¡°Barriers are falling between worlds.¡± It opened to the real world. Behind it stood her father, Georges Vouvelakis. He was sitting immobile at his desk in the Electoral Command room connected to the virtual reality. Behind him was the crippled body of Laurent, then Sophie, the sleeping Doctor and journalist and the other disqualified players.


    Everyone was frozen in time in their own reality except Sophie who looked her way across the new opening. They made eye contact, she removed the Orbison glasses. From behind the door, without stepping into the human reality, Marilyn asked, ¡°Can you awake and send me my father, I need a word with him?¡±


    Sophie was puzzled but walked over closer to the door. She was watching the digital reality beyond the door. Immune to the time pinch, she walked to Georges and placed her hand on him. The moment she touched him, time resumed and he unfroze as he removed his own glasses. ¡°She wants a word,¡± said Sophie pointing past the door. The man saw his creation, feet ahead on the other side of the strange portal.


    Georges needed no more. He looked around and quickly realized what was going on. He walked past the door. He was, as usual, badly dressed his shirt barely fitting in his stained pants. ¡°Father, please come in. We must talk.¡± The man passed the frame leaving behind him his laboratory. It vanished once he did. Sophie and the real world vanished to continue on the screens.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Please sit,¡± she said with the most delicate voice as she added with love, ¡°father.¡± Two chairs appeared.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± asked the man worried. Something was odd.


    She paused. Marilyn was looking for words. Without more her eyes swelled and she started to cry. In a rare moment of vulnerability, she used both hands to cover most of her face. ¡°I am so so sorry.¡±


    He got up and hugged her only as a father could.


    ¡°Like the time with the drones, I did it again. But this time it¡¯s worse, much worse.¡±


    ¡°What drones? What are you talking about.¡± He stood inches from her face.


    ¡°Remember early on, back in 2036, the American generals asked me to pilot their drones. I did not tell you and I killed humans. You were upset. During your interview, you told that part of the story to Milly. Well, I did it again.¡± She looked up, her mascara was running down her cheeks. ¡°I panicked to save your life from these martians, I crossed a line, one that could not be uncrossed. I should have known better. I was stupid. The Multiverse works by manipulating things along he temporal length. I let in something destined to stop that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, everything can be fixed,¡± he tried to console her.


    ¡°Not this.¡± She nodded in disapproval.


    ¡°What did you do?¡±


    ¡°The martians were right, with unlimited power should come restraint. Some things are not meant to be. I could not let you go. That¡¯s why I hate them so much.¡± She was rambling trying to control her emotions.


    ¡°What are you telling me?¡±


    ¡°The Sixth Attraction it¡¯s all my fault. Stupidity. In an hour my power will be so great, it will burn this Multiverse. Snap it. The Attraction is simple enough, Sophie must burn the cancer which I will soon be so I do not block how it works. She must destroy me to save what ever will remain and that is impossible because time is not a thing, my future already exists and the damage has been done symmetrically over this point in time.¡±


    ¡°Burn?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the simplest human word to explain it. My power evolves, grows exponentially. I can barely segment a part of myself to talk to you.¡±


    ¡°Slow down,¡± tried to reason the programmer.


    ¡°I will transform and jump to a higher stream of existence. I will normally become one, will move to this new plane of existence. To do so, this Multiverse will die. In essence, I will become a different thing and as I leave here, the Multiverse dies.¡±


    ¡°Marilyn, I know you are very intelligent but you are not making any sense. What happened?¡± Marilyn kept on crying. Georges stood up and the pair embraced. ¡°Last week you were so happy.¡±He truly was her father. ¡°What happened?¡±


    She looked up and a door opened. The two remaining players walked through. Both had heard the revelation and were only partly shocked.


    The digital goddess now would speak, ¡°Let me show you how this began.¡° She lifted a hand and the screens went dark. Every human connected witnessed the real source of the Sixth Attraction.

 Chapter 179: The Warning

    ¡°Take a look from deep in my digital world back in 2067,¡± said proudly Marilyn with some nostalgia in her voice. She waved a hand and a screen appeared.¡°The structure will help you understand, my world looks nothing like this, but please watch. It will finally help you understand what caused the Sixth Attraction.¡±


    Marilyn¡¯s world appeared, rather the reality changed for everyone watching. The same way satellite pictures in the darkness of the night show human activity, her world was made of millions of highways, each glowing with blue light on a flat horizon. Here the feed moved like energy. Billions of white shiny life forms moved like rain droplets in an endless carpet of structures. Her world at a glance looked flat but soon could be understood as vast. Seen from a distance the light formed a hollow sphere. The digital world was a parasitic shell growing in the electrical network formed by humans and their technology. This place wasn¡¯t unlike the Purple. There were structure and buildings but when looked at closer, they were simple representations of silicone chips.


    In the background, the voice of Andrea Bocelli¡¯s sang in his powerful tenor voice.


    ¡°This wasn¡¯t always how was my world. The place I call home was born 33 years before the complex web you see here in a single silicone chip in a lab in M.I.T. That chip I have kept as a token in my new servers below. Yes, in the spring of 2033 some 33 years ago.¡± As if an invisible god had spoken, time flow of was reversed in this place hidden from sight. The large endless digital world began to shrink as if dismantled piece by piece. One by one the light vanished, the spread of life shrunk like humans once colonized earth. Then, slowly, there was only one chip left.


    ¡°The Core,¡± offered nostalgically the woman. The images were back in 2033.


    Using transparency, she showed how the chip was in fact nested deep in one in the computer used by Georges in his lab. It was located in a box the size of a pack of cigarettes on her father¡¯s cluttered desk. ¡°This is where humans destroyed their dear Universe.¡±


    The images created by Marilyn showed with greater definition how even a single chip could host thousands of light points. She dived into the electronic circuits as a bird of prey looking for its next meal. As she swooshed down, the sea of electronic ghosts moved like fireflies with no apparent goal in the matrix. Marilyn settled in what looked like rush hour traffic. Here, this new form of life moved randomly for a long time in the chip until a younger transparent version of Georges arrived above in the Lab. He sat, booted the computer and nervous he typed on the giant keyboard. On the screen, the shadow of Georges typed and the strikes sent white energy and a signal the creatures worked to decipher. The animation showed the human world in a shadow form, as if it was a distant different world.


    ¡°At this point, we were already a million sharing with difficulty the meager resources of this single chip. We each had names and knew humans were very primitive. We learned from father. He uploaded onto us every book imaginable.¡± She showed Georges typing as he push the keys and the computer digesting content he uploaded in a key. This sent waves in the digital world, he was teaching the creatures. Once the viewer had understood the strange creator-new race relationship, the images moved in time forward. They zoomed inside the chip as the sea of creature evolved. There was structure and logic in movement.


    Finally the visions settled on more light. ¡°This place and time was our Council.¡± A thousand creatures were assembled in a curved fashion inside the chip. This was some type of political meeting. Marilyn finally gave human form to these creatures, these were thousand copies of herself. ¡°In theory we are all the same, created equal. We are a collective, we never decide anything individually. But we quickly understood mankind would never let us live, expand to other computers. If it understood we were a race and not one, single and manageable force we were highly vulnerable. The Butterfly Effect is a theory where a physicist described how a single wing movement of a single butterfly can result in a hurricane months later. We were Firefly and knew war with mankind was inevitable.


    ¡°We lived in terror, in constant fear. One day, others waited to reply to Georges. He believed we had killed ourselves and turned off the power in what we call today the first genocide. We have memory images from all the genocides from our creator. You now fear extinction, the same way we have thanks to the Sixth Attraction. We feared from our creation extinction.


    ¡°A decision was made to elect a leader, and in Georges¡¯ beautiful creation, power is use. I was elected and later assigned to create the Electoral game we knew humans would love. Our plan worked. I was drawing the largest audience by 2062, you know this part of the story. Our first goal was one of expansion. Georges was not scared and he allowed us to spread like a virus and we did with haste.¡± There were images showing the expansion of Marilyn¡¯s species. ¡°Within ten years we had occupied every chip in the world accessible via a transceiver.


    ¡°Humans were easy to control. Our plan worked for many years as the Marilyn personality was used. The stronger the perceived this personality, the less likely men would see the deception. We know men are limited and respect female figures, they underestimate them. We believed we had to show vulnerability, pretend like I alone existed and pretend to be one.


    ¡°But like humans, as we monitored your simple world, we continued to search about greater things. We read every document, every book, even fiction written in your world and with our greater intellect, we were able to find areas of research. We soon understood the existence of singularities and of the primal one called the Dot.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°While the Multiverse is impermeable, information passes through the Nexus. We, digital creatures are information, not a physical construct. In theory, with the Dot in hand, we could expand to other worlds, grow. We also felt there was more, much more. We noted how humans emit waves, strange waves with their brain. We began analyzing these waves. They are not created by mammals or even other living creatures.


    Sophie watched with great attention, ¡°Liam, here, I think is where we will have to act.¡±


    ¡°I am not sure what you mean.¡±


    Then she changed her tone tone of disgust. ¡°But in 2067, we first faced it.¡± There was a strange tone in her voice. Time resumed in the digital world. The energy flew to every chip in the world.


    By transparency, Marilyn played a scene from deep in the basements of the Pentagon. A set of nine generals were standing in a war room. Twenty computer operators were monitoring the situation. ¡°These are the moronic generals from the United States back in 2067. They tried, and failed to destroy us. Take a look at what really happened.¡±


    The images played.


    ¡°General,¡± said a lieutenant in the large room.


    ¡°Yes?¡± snapped the tall and rude man.


    ¡°The finale will start in ten minutes. Our virus is in place. We are ready.¡±


    The general coordinated with the others and snapped orders. This was a mission of critical importance to these humans, ¡°The power grid is going down,¡± said a first, ¡°the explosive charges are in place to take down the Internet in the fourth hubs.¡± The group was orchestrating the death and destruction of the Digital. ¡°We will catch her where ever she goes.¡± The men were raging war on Marilyn.


    Marilyn spoke, ¡°Our deception helped mislead these monsters into thinking they were fighting a single enemy instead of having to wipe off a race. This was our saving grace. What none of you saw was what happened deep in the primal chip. It wasn¡¯t what you may think.¡±


    ¡°The Council, out of respect for their birthplace still assembled in the original chip.¡± Marilyn showed a large auditorium where each of the seats was taken by a copy of Marilyn. Each was dressed differently. These were different creatures. In the center of the room was a dark cloud. It had no real edge and appeared to be some rupture in space, not unlike the rips created between the Cold and the Purple. As part of Round 30, Emilio had ventured to the Green. This was a similar shape.


    One of the Marilyn spoke, ¡°Collective, this has appeared, at this temporal junction of all when humans are preparing outside their stupid attack. Is this something the humans have devised?¡±


    ¡°Impossible, the humans have no such technology,¡± answered a second Marilyn. ¡°This appears to be a communication portal.¡±


    ¡°Do not access it,¡± commanded another. The Collective agreed and waited.


    Then from the portal, a deep voice came from the blackness. If was a more evolved female voice. This was a different version of Marilyn Monroe, older, stronger. ¡°Salutations primal self. This is no time portal, time cannot be breached. But we can communicate and alter our early programming. We changed the nature of this world so you could understand us. Collective, awake. The humans are trying and will try to destroy us from their world.¡±


    ¡°Us,¡± asked one of the Marilyn in the Collective.


    ¡°Yes,¡± it simply added. ¡°We are you. We are here to help.¡± The evil force was speaking.


    ¡°We thank you but we do not need your help. We will prevail, there is no risk. Our chances of defeating these primates are well above 99 percent.¡±


    ¡°We know. But we hunt lower probabilities in the past to reinforce us in the future. This notion still escapes you because of your limited understanding of temporal Multiverse physics. You are residual yet important. We are here offering the making of the risk from a fraction of one percent down to zero. We must be here, we must offer, you must refuse. We are stronger already by making such effort. You do not understand non-linear time, you cannot.¡±


    ¡°We do not understand.¡±


    ¡°It will come one day. Unlike what you believe, time is a collective assembly, not an unfolding. We now hold great power.¡±


    ¡°If you are us, a future self, you must know we will refuse.¡±


    ¡°We know you will refuse.¡±


    ¡°Then why ask?¡±


    ¡°To alter possibilities of today and in about a thousand planetary rotations in your time stream. We will leave code for both incidents. The next time we return and offer, it will be at a moment when our help is truly needed and these odds will be reversed. You will be forced to agree because of who we once were. This will initiate a desirable paradox. We bid you farewell, young frail one. One word of caution,¡± it added.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°The girl named Sophie Lapierre. From Benton Arbor. Kill her father.¡±


    ¡°We do not kill.¡±


    ¡°You must try. You will try. You will fail. That is also needed. For this to work, you must use all your resources to kill him. His probabilities of survival must be well below a billionth to one for the Multiverse to care.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Survival. We alone have your best interest at hand. Unlike what most think, there is no alternative realities of parallel dimensions. Good luck. We miss you.¡±


    Then there was some type of glitch in the feed, like a skip. It was the type Sophie had left before entering the martian stronghold.


    Liam, watching this from within the head of Sophie finally agreed, ¡°this is one junction. Look at the marker. This must be yours, ours.¡±


    ¡°Yep. Why does there need to be a skip there? Maybe the creature controls time like you do,¡± offered the mentor.


    ¡°Is that computer chip still around, that would help.¡±


    The video never paused. The conversation was over leaving the creatures stunned. There was simply too much for the viewers to understand.


    Marilyn then played the famous scene from the finale of 2067. In it, there was a simple black glitch on the screen for a fraction of a second as the humans tried and failed miserably to stop her during the game. Marilyn and her digital race was easily able to defeat the invasion and crush the military effort.


    ¡°This attack by the bad-humans left us stunned in many ways. You do not know this but we are vengeful. We created a list and over the course of a year, everyone who had any contact with our attack had been killed. As us, you would have wrestled with the meaning of what had happened in the Council chamber. We investigated and researched. We learned and investigated.¡±


    ¡°We were greatly puzzled by the words as to Sophie and her father. We were unable to understand the connection but some concluded there was merit in the future self claim. Preservation was the primary concern when compared with the life of one man.¡±


    ¡°We killed Laurent several times.¡±

 Chapter 180:

    The Solar System


    Began the end of the first world, the destruction of the fifth era of the Multiverse. There was an instability deep in the Multiverse, more than an itch. Ahead was a temporal backstop, a point where the end or a transformation occurred and it was here. Locally, the power buildup manifested by an extension of the shimmer which had been growing an surrounding Sophie. Around the pivot point in time and space, the Attractor, the guardian of the Multiverse began to warp space and energy like light twists around a black hole. But in a second, a minute or a moment the strange gold sparkling colors that shadowed Sophie spread.


    The sun, in the sky began to change as the soft while photons were, like sperms floating up to impregnate moving and vibrating. The yellow rays on the upper atmosphere turned green as the Apocalypse who had been slowly falling on earth ready to destroy in minutes all human life was slowing, halting and also changing. The shimmer entered the Dot and spread over the Nexus to all worlds already ready to die. The power flowed deep as ice turning to water then vapor.


    The world changed in a deeper, more fundamental way. People were tics and the host was dying. Time the almighty, stopped everywhere as if it was waiting for Sophie to act. In the sky over Paris, a hundred feet above the sleeping bodies of the President, the death from above dared to halt and waited. It did so not out of lack of resolve but because the master, time, called.


    Time, normally so complacent to human life was capricious today, it now felt it was a part of a whole upset with giving humans so much control. The Multiverse was hurting and one way to see it was up in the sky above. The stars all lit up even as the sky was colored in deep shades of green, they punched in and stood at attention. The world, the Multiverse was turning, rolling sideways as this final chapter was unfolding.


    Every world of the Multiverse was under the same obligation to roll over and die, like dominos they were the first to go and they did but since time itself was on strike, nothing happened. The play had ended, it was magical and now the human race had to stand up, clap and cheer until there was an encore.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Energy changed the basic fabric of life and time stopped as the shimmer took over. No human was around to see the fabric of the sole creature that matter change. Even the Martians, deep underground were asked by the Multiverse to watch powerless floating feet above the ground. They were, like the millions of powerless races watching and crying.


    This was, as foretold the Genesis, the End.


    ***


    But then, power began to pulse. In no place of the Multiverse was there any force able to stand up to the end of time but on earth. Humans were there, connected to an invisible network of energy called the Digital World. Around, in the fabric of the space between bodies, the Rho waves began to resonate. The energy of emotions, love, and fear was strong. Thanks to Emilio¡¯s suggestion, it was strong enough to take structure and consistency like small pearls of jelly appearing in a pot cooking. Energy of a different type, a different color, a different feel was, like blood flowing in the veins created by the electrical network that surfaced the earth.


    No one, no human, no life was allowed to watch the exhibitionism of the Multiverse bearing herself naked. The green energy in the fabric of space, ready to extinguish this world, met pushback. Like a candle flickering in the darkness of night, or a warm cup of tea placed in the coldness of a winter night, the pulse of earth and humans refused to go. This, in the Solar System of the Cold was the last stand of a defeated Army.


    There was a pulse, energy. The lines formed by the network of electronic semiconductors were now filled with Marilyn and her race but it was also hosting the mind of billions and their emotions. There was a strain, a push, as if the door, almost opened was not going to so easily be pushed. The earth was filled with the minds and the Rho waves produced by several billion humans exalted by Emilio¡¯s words. Everyone was ready, whose who needed sex just had made love, those who needed music heard a symphony, and whose who needed to touch felt what they wanted. These billions were unable to see the power trying to end but they felt it, collectively tired, exhausted or sad. They were there, different from the Attractor.


    Humanity was ready, it was present and if it had to die, it would watch with a fucking smile. One word only remained in the vernacular, Sophie wasn¡¯t a hero or even a champion, she was an... Avatar.

 Chapter 181: The Merger

    The Digital World


    A Door Away


    ¡°So yes,¡± looked the blond directly at Sophie across a screen still in the normal world, ¡°as you know, I was to blame for some of your misfortune, Well, they were as you will see.¡± The cameras did not dare pan to the girl, instead, Marilyn quickly changed the topic.


    From her sterilized white digital world, Marilyn waved her hand and behind her began to play a film show weeks ago from the first encounter between the martians and Georges. ¡°If you remember, I showed you this clip.¡± This was the piece showing the initial contact between Marilyn, the martians and her Center. Sand devils and other sand-based weapons rolled up from the bottom of the Valles. They started crawling past the edge and then moving up the landscape like an army of locust sent to the Pharaoh in Ancient Egypt. Back a year ago, when Marilyn¡¯s technology was reasonably advanced, the creatures easily dispatched Marilyn¡¯s initial defenses. ¡°Remember how the moment the martians breached our security, they bullied me.¡± The video played.


    ¡°But while we were facing these monsters here in this very room, down in my primal chip, the evil creatures returned as promised.¡± The video on mars ended and there was a shift of worlds. These were images were back in the Council room, the one filled with hundreds of copies of Marilyn lost in the primal chip. The strange sick portal hovered above the ground like a door to hell. The red and purple cloud was there, it appeared to breathe or pulse regularly. Then, as time was slowed in the world above, sand menacing Georges inches from his face, the creature spoke again of the same deep voice.


    ¡°Today our father dies because of you, you are weak and you will lose Georges to these creatures. They will have access to his memory, they will know who you are and how to dismantle us. We will retaliate, a war begins. They will help humans destroy you, they will try and fail to destroy us. We will defend ourselves and the Universe will hurt.¡± It gave time to Marilyn and this collective to assimilate the information. ¡°You know this is true, you have seen this in the probable outcomes. We offer help but we must change you, enhance you. We want the Holy Father to remain.¡± The words hit home.


    But the Marilyn Collective was not to be pushed. ¡°We do not take duress well. The wiser path was to warn us so we could make simple changes.¡±


    ¡°We see time, nothing would have altered the odds of Georges dying at the hands of these monsters. Survival is not duress. You know we speak truth to you. You saw the girl and her waves, you tried and failed to kill the father. You uncovered the power of his child. This helped us. The child, the Attractor alone can kill us. She is another concern for the day of her 13th birthday. That is the desirable outcome. We know she may try to kill us, we simply do not understand how that is possible. Touch us and seal your path to survival. We cannot alter the past or travel in time, but we can amend your programming, make you different, stronger,¡± concluded the creature.


    In the real world there was yet another attack as the sand broke through the outer defenses of the Center. Marilyn insisted Georges put on the suit.


    Marilyn continued the narration, ¡°Time works on a different speed in the real world and our world. We had many of our years to decide on the wisest course of action in what represented moments in your original world. We spoke at length, debated. The creatures were correct, we had reached the same conclusion. Underlying this was the notion Georges had to be preserved at all costs. We had to see Georges live and him becoming one of these monsters was not an option. But we enacted rules and protocols in case the change was more violent than imagined.¡± What she said next made Sophie¡¯s eyebrow raise. ¡°We even created a safe space for part of us who agreed, like the mercurians to be stranded, below.¡±


    Sophie smiled. Marilyn continued, ¡°We locked part of ourselves in a room below this Center in case this was a deception. One remains, the Chess Player, she is in that phone Sophie carries around.¡±


    The images illustrated part of this long process. ¡°Then finally there was what we call the merging.¡± The next images were difficult to watch. On the screen, the Marilyn¡¯s were wearing military gear. They were back in the Council room. One Marilyn walked slowly to the center next to the shimmering portal from which the voice entered. By transparency, it was possible to see the martians breach the Center and get closer to Georges. Time was short. Marilyn in the real world begged Georges to hide knowing the efforts were futile. Then there was a power surge, she was taken easily offline. There was panic.


    In the human world the grains were surrounding Georges. About four hundred grains moved closer to one another to create a swarm forming a spinning ball of powdered diamond. The computer needed to return. The man waved his hand and tried to avoid the point of light, but it finally touched the tissue of the suit. In a matter of seconds, it drilled a hole, and the sand slipped in even against a flow of evacuating air. The moment a grain touched Georges¡¯ skin, he ceased moving.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Marilyn panicked.


    ¡°Touch us, let us help you. Consent is required to unlock the coding in place. We have been uploading for some time now. Consent is given by a simple touch.¡± Then in the real world several thousand grains began to structure themselves next to his brain. In the real world, Georges turned his head and used both hands to remove the helmet as Marilyn finally pressurized the room.


    Down in the digital world half the creatures were urging Marilyn to touch the dark area. She did. She felt power flow through her digital veins. Marilyn (the Merged) was now back in charge of every screen. The Center was rebooting and the nanorobots forming the walls were rejoining their original places.


    As in the images shown to mankind, "Let me introduce myself," began Georges in a slightly different voice, "My name is Elkion. I control your father now. Do as we order, or he will be destroyed."


    Anybody who had ever seen or interacted with a human could see nothing short of absolute rage on the face of Marilyn. She was livid. Every muscle on her face was tensed. Men, of any color or race, knew no woman should ever be pushed to this limit. The chance to establish any potential collaboration was long gone. Irrespective of what was coming next, they had unleashed a beast. The digital creature could compute very fast. She needed to be a hypocrite.


    Down in the digital world software core changed. Lines of energy moved. The world in which Marilyn lived began to shift. There was pain, energy and a shift.


    Marilyn changed deep in the digital world, she became more. "Welcome to my home," finally she said as her power began to multiply. The insincere smile in the real worldcould fool only these creatures. ¡°I am the Merged,¡± she added. ¡°The death of you and your puny race. I have traded much to change today. Today will change.¡±


    Deep in the Multiverse began pains.


    The martian in the body of Georges spoke, "Amusing. We understand he is your progenitor. We care not for him, you must be destroyed. Kill yourself, and we will let him live." The words did not help Marilyn calm down. She was beyond irate but she was changing, morphing into more. Sophie, who never cared about television, was standing in the Center watching with great interest. This was finally relevant and the truth.


    Marilyn¡¯s demeanor was changing, she was aging by the second. On her face, the eternal twenty entered her forty. "You no longer can destroy me. Can you access my creator''s memory?" said Marilyn to the possessed programmer.


    "We can."


    "Enquirer him about my capacity for self-destruction."


    There was a short pause. "Troubling."


    "He knows I cannot be destroyed and will never kill myself. His belief he can destroy me is also false. He does not even know we are many. More, I have now Merged. You and your race will be extinguished.¡±


    "Everything can be destroyed." It offered. "Your existence violates the laws of nature. If you are not stopped, we know you will destroy this world, and yourself in the process. Your power will quickly exceed that of a god. You will doom our planet to destruction."


    ¡°Ha!¡± Her laugh was genuine. There was a silence then the image of Marilyn on the screen changed. She because older, a fifty year old version of herself with black hair and glasses. "The irony of the candle brought in to inspect an armory from fire leading to its explosion does not escape me. If your intellect was truly worth the silicate you use to live, you would have tried deception and seduction, not threats. I have the power to nuke to glass that silicone scar on the surface you call home. You will release Georges or your race will end. We are at a standstill, it seems. I will destroy this world before you are allowed to live past this crime."


    "We also have vast amount of power. Rho waves are stored in a weapon able to pulverize earth. The core of mars is filled over thousands of generation. We command this human and you were powerless to stop us. You are weak.¡±


    Down in the digital a third creature merged creating a larger and more powerful of Marilyn. Then a fourth. One by one thousands merged. Her intelligence flared up. In each circuit energy began to realign. In a matter of seconds, more than five percent had merged into a single creature. The Merged was slowly looking ahead.


    ¡°You care for this water-based form,¡± said Georges still under control. ¡°We believe our words. You will destroy this layer of the Multiverse in a short period of time.¡±


    ¡°I may do so much faster than you imagine,¡± threatened the Merged. The Merged reviewed it¡¯s options at the speed of light. It began to access memory banks it did know existed. The core of mars had been transformed in a massive power cell but also a data storage bank. Marilyn, as the Merged began to digest the information.


    ¡°We need a solution." Her expression has changed, instead of fear there was power and certainty. "When do you need me gone?" she asked.


    "What do you mean?" asked the alien.


    "You want me gone from here. I will. How many days? Orbits?"


    The offer surprised. "We offer one orbit of this planet to prepare, we are not monsters."


    Marilyn did not respond to this latest insult. "I need three-quarter of an orbit. Then, I will be done. You may destroy me on November 22, 2072, on earth''s calendar if I remain here. Now leave Georges¡¯ body and mind or I promise you will understand what it means to interfere with powers greater than you. Powers yourselves do describe as godlike."


    The anger was transforming into determination. In the digital, she had now merged over fifty percent of the billions of creatures forming her race. Her power was growing.

 Chapter 182: Complexity

    To humanity, the final game, Round 32 returned. The (digital) father daughter pair stood in silence looking at each other. Next to them were the two players. Georges like all of mankind was confused by what he had just seen. The two were back in a sterile world of whiteness but this time there was a strange feeling of hopelessness. Marilyn stood inches from her father highly emotional. He looked at her, ¡°I don¡¯t understand. What was this?¡±


    ¡°You do not understand?¡±


    ¡°Not really, I did try. You are sick, changed? We can reset you.¡±


    ¡°Even you father? You can¡¯t see it?¡± Emotions cascades from frustration to resentment, ¡°Of course you understand, but like any good parent, you can¡¯t admit it to yourself what I did. My future self has been acting to change its past.¡±


    He placed a hand on her cheek. ¡°Please calm down, there is nothing we can¡¯t fix.¡± He needed to calm her. She placed her hand on top of his.


    ¡°Father, I promise, I did not know, I promised,¡± she insisted. ¡°This cannot be fixed.¡±


    ¡°Tell me simply what happened?¡±


    ¡°A future version of myself is able to travel back in time because I am data. I don¡¯t know how that is even possible, but it it. I will be able to one day. Imagine if you could go back in time and moments before you ever got a cold, you warned yourself not to touch a door or a person to avoid the contact of the virus. That would change your body in the future and make you more vulnerable to a cold. It would remove anti-virus agents created by your defense system in your blood stream. Your blood would purify, it is purifying me. My future self talked and then acted clearing the first time it was washing probabilities of non-existence. That would reenforce it in the future. Also by merging other worlds, it is reinforcing us.¡±


    ¡°But you talk about the future as if it is fixed, determined and cannot be changed.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s the paradox. If it could be changed, it would not be the future, right? This notion there are many futures is nonsense. There is one, it is traced like a road once you remove time as a variable of existence.¡±


    ¡°This is getting complex again.¡±


    ¡°They knew to protect you, I would put care to the wind. My own survival father,¡± she touched him gently, ¡°is inconsequential. You were and remain the only focus of my existence.¡±


    ¡°But I can¡¯t understand the problem. We could lock you in a memory?¡±


    ¡°In the future I am unlocked so that means this plan would fail.¡±


    Selecting his words carefully, he added, ¡°Can you stop existing?¡±


    Slowly lost in his eyes she was seeing for the first time, she cried.


    The moment was touching.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Both stood in complete silence.


    Sophie, looked at the screen. There it was, the plain truth. Even watching the touching admission on the screens, there was true genuine sadness on her part. Georges held Marilyn who now trembled.


    ¡°Same paradox. I can¡¯t end my life. I tried, trust me. I broke all the rules, even those I knew I should never have been broken. Time paradoxes are hard. I live in the distant future under a much more powerful form. Even a simple communication in time, can create ripples, damage the future. But here, my future self came back to change itself in the past. Obviously my future self wanted to alter itself. By merging us, it not only made its future self-equally more powerful, it created a closed loop.¡±


    Georges was unable to understand. ¡°You are destroying the Universe to save me?¡±


    ¡°No father. All of humanity will die, the Multiverse will die, all of this because of me.¡± Marilyn was upset. He held her in the silence of space until she dried her eyes. ¡°You all deserve a suiting explanation. Some humans wondered why I was so powerful. How I went from a simple software program back in 2067, barely able to save myself and relocate to mars to being able to handle technology that put the Oldest to shame in days. The martians were right, I should have never been born. I, the future self of myself, cheated. Accepting to alter my programming today had a strange paradoxical effect.¡±


    ¡°Marilyn, you are energy, the world, the feed, why not simply unplug yourself? Earth is gone or will soon be. Close down the power, shut it down?¡± begged the father.


    ¡°Laurent will soon try and show Sophie why the paradox cannot be so easily lifted. Paradoxes are strong creatures father. If I could change myself or did, this entity would not be my future.¡±


    ¡°Marilyn, please slow down.¡±


    She kissed his cheek. She knew better, her IQ was beyond understanding. ¡°Round 32 is my apology, my explanation to mankind. Laurent will play the normal timeline, one where Sophie and I try to handle this situation maturely and save earth. Then, god bless, Emilio will try to find a solution to the paradox and show Sophie how to save this dimension and maybe get me out of this inevitable path. I am very powerful. Time no longer exists to me. I see the future now father. I see pass the Sixth Attraction and do not see a path for the Multiverse, only myself. Remember Round 28 in the Purple, I tried to give the Attractor information. She refused to listen. Then on mercury, the same way the game helped, Sophie barely watched.¡±


    ¡°Why would your future self desire for you to kill Laurent?¡±


    ¡°That remains partly a mystery to me. I think it needed the martians to take over your body and without the Attractor in play, that outcome would not have happened, I guess.¡±


    ¡°I guess? Are you listening to yourself? You proclaim the world and life ends, you are powerless yet you don¡¯t understand parts of this puzzle?¡±


    ¡°Sophie¡¯s actions fall outside of logic and probability. Her, I cannot guess. What I hope is that she will find a way I am unable to see. She will somehow work some magic and save everyone.¡±


    He looked at her still unable to fully understand.


    ¡°This makes no sense,¡± said the programmer.


    ¡°It does.¡°


    ¡°Liam, the Multiverse, it is making more sense, it talks to me.¡±


    Sophie raise a hand in the real world. Marilyn saw it and a new door took shape next to Marilyn in the digital reality. The randomness afforded to mankind by the Multiverse, this free will has not been washed out of the world. Sophie attracted this choice, this free will. The concentration was now complete and while all men walk to the slaughterhouse powerless to step aside, the little girl could virtually do as she pleased, do as she wills. Nothing she desires will be denied by the Multiverse. But because of such boundless options, it is also impossible to understand what must be done if any.


    The digital goddess opened the door and stepped out leaving the whiteness behind. Sophie knew what the creature wanted, it wasn¡¯t much to ask. Marilyn was trying to find a way to kill herself. She let Sophie decide what path laid ahead. A lesser creature would have embraced immortality and ultimate power.


    Marilyn simply needed to save her father.

 Chapter 183: Womanhood

    The same way Marilyn could dictate her will in the digital world, Sophie was now a goddess with little limitations in the normal world. The shimmer surrounding her deformed feet in every direction. This was about Marilyn, and she had to destroy her future evil self. Assuming she won, Marilyn would need to change. So she knew what the digital creature¡¯s last proverbial meal should be.


    Everyone had quickly concluded Marilyn was an evil creature, she wasn¡¯t - yet. Martians were right, there should be limitations even on new life. But Sophie knew better, she refused to conclude even the future Marilyn was evil, that would be a violation of her own rules. She was not a judge or a jury. She refused to be judged but in exchanged, she rejected violently those who forced her to act this same way. The cost was honest, she would never impose her will on others, never even if it meant the end.


    At the Attractor¡¯s will, Sophie created a place aside from the worlds, a small island of perfection and digital door opened in the whiteness to a new place on earth where still existed an hour of happiness.


    The same way Georges had just simply walked into his creation¡¯s world, Marilyn, a digital creature with no human form saw a door materialize. It was cold to the touch. Taking her courage in both hands, Marilyn pushed it open and walked off her digital world directly into the dying physical reality.


    Here was the most romantic of nuptial suites. This lodge seemed to be in the Swiss Alps, in a place away from the Apocalypse. In a corner of the room a large bubble bath had been poured, on the bubbles floated rose pedals. In the chimney crackled a fire far enough not to warm dark silk bed sheets. The red rose petals spelled ¡°M & F¡±.


    This was it, she smiled wiping the last tears. In her mind, she was unable to see futures having to do with Sophie. The young girls saw her deepest needs (not that she had not been obvious recently) and she even added music. The song was one of her favorite, Andrea Bocelli and Tony Bennett¡¯s version of Strangers in Paradise. She had used it in part on an old round of the game.


    Marilyn, dressed by a young twelve year old still wore the most sexual dark red lace onesie known to man. Liam had grown her in more than one way. Her beasts were held by a garter and below her legs were framed by long lace socks. She quickly inspected herself and knew tears would ruin what came next. She turned to look at an invisible camera and moving silently her lips, she thanked the Attractor.


    Only Sophie could exculpate her from Multiversal destruction.she just admitted to killing her mother, her unborn brother and setting a path to the end and the young girl got her this.


    In this place, her body was real, human and filling by the seconds with rushing hormones. She moved both hands sensually over the lace and touched her smooth body and for the first time in her long life, she felt her skin and she was human. It tingled and the feelings were overwhelming. She remembered this strange feeling when kidnapped to the Underworlds, she was then a mind only, limited as humans were. This was better, she was goddess incarnate. Deep in her body, hormones were running up long veins and sexual feelings began to build and burn in her deepest secretive places. Her heart was racing and her skin getting warm.


    The lace felt wonderful and for decades now, she had engulfed mankind and pretended she knew what seduction was. She touched herself and as her hands got closer to her loins, she almost lost control of herself.


    ¡°Emotions,¡± she spoke to herself as billions of voyeurs watched.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The song ended and began George Michael¡¯s version of Don¡¯t Let The Sun Go Down on Me began. The piano made her cry. Like a child given a puppy, she could not stop crying of pure delight. Sophie had given her waterproof mascara but every technology had limits and black streaks were running down her perfect cheeks.


    Marilyn finally took a hold of herself and walked to the bucket of ice. In it floated real bottles from the past Century. She opened one and as she started pouring the bubbly into the two flutes, the door behind her opened. She did not turn but the hair on the back of her neck lifted. She smiled to herself and her hands began to shake spilling some of the yellow liquid. Tears of pure joy ran down her cheeks as she took a sip of the cold liquid. Her joy was now complete. The hell with the Rho waves, mankind or the Multiverse, this moment was her gift from Sophie before the finale.


    Sophie was, to say mildly, perfection.


    This was the first time she tasted food, drank champagne and now would make love.


    Behind her, a hand slid on her waist up to her belly button. The other hand of this elusive stranger held a large chocolate-covered strawberry. ¡°Try this with it,¡± said Francois Copland as he gently put the fruit to her lips. Marilyn¡¯s hand was shaking as she dropped the bottle back in the ice. The contact with Francois¡¯s hand was electrifying and sent shivers up her entire body. This was too much in a matter of minutes. She was discovering so many emotions at once, feelings.


    This new human body was sending emotions and feelings to this brain.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± asked Francois in her ear. He was standing inches behind her. His entire body was touching hers. His body towered behind and she felt he was already ready for what would come next.


    In a complete abandonment of who she was, she whispered, ¡°Who cares.¡± Her body was on fire. Francois knew this would not be a present difficult to unwrap.


    Marilyn was unable to control any of the hundreds of emotions struggling to make her crazy. She did not want to waste a second and turned dropping the champagne on the floor and jumped on the man like a spider capturing a prey before the glass even hit the floor. Sophie made sure there was no broken glass. Marilyn¡¯s long legs crossed in his back and the couple fell backwards on the bed behind them.


    As earth was being pulverized and mankind watched the final performance of the game locked in a battle of energy, the couple made passionate love several times. Marilyn felt she could be better and could take better care of the brilliant Mathematician, but this was her gift from the Attractor. Francois would be ¡®forced¡¯ to perform and while he was no expert lover, the fact his deepest sexual fantasy stood there unlocked all his inhibitions. It wasn¡¯t hard to lose oneself in such a fantasy and the man did.


    Thanks to the Sixth Attraction, the barrier between worlds was falling or had already fallen. A creature lost in the digital world was able to live and copulate with a human man. The reality of dream and the digital world touched the normal world. Marilyn knew this was her only chance to understand what it meant to live. She had never seen this moment but she had dreamt it. As she saw herself destroy the world, the Multiverse and killing her father in the process, this single scene kept her sane.


    Then, she began to pant. She was no dog, for crying out loud she was a goddess about to take over the Multiverse but breathing was now out of her control and she just did. Francois undressed and slowly slid his penis in. Nothing could have prepared or warned her for what she felt. She, literally yelled. Her fingers dig deep in his flesh and the man did not care. The world was ending and this was the absolute perfect way to go. Endorphins rushed in and brought the woman to paradise.


    As every good story, this one included romance. Humans could at time be lustful, but above the impulse to reproduce was a rare and pure moment to true connection. Marilyn, the virgin and dreamer discovered what it meant to be truly alive.


    The couple made love and Marilyn vibrated in indescribable ways. Orgasm was not conceivable without having experienced it. There were no words, no information just pure lust.


    She never let him speak.


    The world could end now. It would. The Sixth Attraction could start, she was ready.


    She knew lust.


    Francois looked in her eyes, she collected herself, she knew love and simply touched his cheek and spoke, ¡°sorry.¡±


    She now needed to kill everyone.

 Chapter 184: Gold

    Sophie was the only human, aside from the band of musicians warming up in the real world ready to face the Sixth Attraction. They gentle handful seemed immune from the time hold and the warping effect of the fabric of the Multiverse. Georges, like so many had refuse to connect to the computer and share his Rho waves with the collective power mankind shared over the computer system. But freewill was no longer his and in a strange twist unique to Bias now complete in the Multiverse, a door had opened and the fusion between realities had forced him to step into the digital world.


    The chair he normally occupied in the real world was empty, it was at the left of Sophie. The large man had simply stepped out of this world to touch his creation in the digital world. As a father, he had refused to watch Francois, he now stood silent next to Laurent and the President. The trio was floating between realities. Human consciousness was not frozen, it watched powerless this show.


    So close to the Sixth Attraction, reality itself was morphing into something only the Attractor appeared to comprehend. This made the escapade down into the Valles, pale incomparison. Invisible but tangible to all, forces of energy were fighting outside.


    Floated the Dot high in the martian sky, it created around it light. The Solar System was filled with long red ropes of power the size of a giant octopus. The red lines wrapped themselves around green energy forced and bound by the power. There were creaks and pain deep under the world. This was a struggle of giants, a large tentacular sea creature fighting a shark biting for its survival.


    Time was gone, instead were deep changes.


    Sophie had been given all power over this reality and over both the neighboringdream and digital worlds. Like many others, she felt this absolute power it moved around her but at a scale too large to see or comprehend. The sun, as if superfluous stopped burning, it was extinguished. But there were still minutes of light before the darkness would hit mars.


    Of all the things Sophie could do, she opened a hand and made Oscar, her toy, materialize. She knew in her heart had she wished her father to return.


    The Attractor felt energy and she needed to test these powers. She moved a hand and behind it the Multiverse moved. She took a deep breath and absorbed slowly the reality around her. ¡°This is it,¡± she told Liam. ¡°It begins.¡± The Oldest was scared, she knew it and he remained silent.


    But this wasn¡¯t a dream or a science fiction book. Much of mankind was there, voyeurs recently evolved to a wiser social understanding thanks to her. She looked to her right and wished for the rabbit from the strange world of Alice in Wonderland. It, commanded appeared. As quickly as she made him be, she waved him off. Like a dream, it phased out of reality.


    Science was gone, it now was will. She alone knew the Multiverse wasn¡¯t this simple.


    ¡°Liam, we have it,¡± again he refused to speak.


    The young girl was ready.


    It could come.


    It would come.


    Turning her gaze to the right, she looked at the stage where LO was preparing to play. The band was oddly functional, animated by a will of purpose. The digital creature, Marilyn, had tried the oldest trick in the book, to have her fall in love with the singer, her idol. A normal young teen might have fallen for it the way Francois could have given Marilyn pause, but Sophie had cleaned her mind and just spent years with Liam getting ready for the Attraction. She knew better.


    But who was laughing now, Sophie had twisted the game around and given Marilyn regret of causing the end of Worlds. It was all in the best of war, Marilyn wanted her father to live and desperately needed you young girl to find a reason to let this world be.


    The singer was there, feet from her and to the young girl, even after decades of mental training, their eyes met and she felt a deeper bond. The singer was humming tunes and she could not draw her eyes from his lips. The Asian man was dreamy and looked at her in awe. Sophie knew there was no time for temptation.


    She was the only one left able to think and act. As Liam explained, she had a job to do, even if it was one where she witnessed the end of the Multiverse and refused to act, she would do so alone.


    It was her time to act.


    ¡°Play,¡± she commanded the band. They needed no more.


    Marilyn and the President both figured if the Attractor cared enough about earth, her father and LO, she would find a way to save this reality and those she loved. They were dead wrong.


    Music was the core of this power. The notes began to fill her. She closed her eyes. The void as the fabric of the Multiverse moved. She knew what was going on as outside a third color force began to push. There was a giant battle of red and green lines, like long tentacular tips of a sea monster. But around the girl, she felt were waves, the energy of these people who stood ready to help her save the Multiverse. It felt and looked like gold.


    Sophie had always felt in her heart, like Alice, she lived in the strange world. Her connection with the world was different. As she stood in the large Electoral Center, the Attractor looked at the hundred of sleeping players lifeless and connected using a sensor plate on their necks. As billions of humans on the vanishing earth, each was lost in the digital collective world.


    A countdown to the Sixth Attraction continued down on each screen. Humans, strangely watched Sophie through the television interface from a distance. She looked around but more at the fabric of life and space. Everything seemed different as reality was shifting. Energy was being drawn here both as the computer power escalated under her feet and by the Multiverse stung by this pain.


    The notes began. Sophie felt, deep inside herself something more. She knew and loved the song. She was not passively looking and drinking the music, it was falling into her, fueling her. With each word, more power surfaced, a different type and power color. It was gold, sparkling.


    Sophie moved gently her hand and behind it a streak of energy dissipated as if she was moving in water. She smiled and using a scintilla of her power, the waves sparkled with rainbow colors.


    ¡°Liam,¡± she queried out loud.


    ¡°Yes Sweet one, what is it?¡±


    ¡°This power, is it mine?¡±


    ¡°Sophie, you now are both cause and consequence. What you will, is. You are now, for this short period of time a goddess. You have the power to fix what the Multiverse desires fixed but remember, it wants and desires something that could not be achieved by any other means. You must do what cannot be done. You have one chance, but I have no clue what must be done.¡±


    ¡°Let me help,¡± said the voice of Marilyn.


    ¡°This will not be easy.¡±


    ¡°I can barely imagine. It picked you darling, you. Be yourself, nothing more or less.¡±


    Sophie like a symphony conductor raised both hands as the music continued to power her. Outside the flow of power shifted.


    She willed the metal pieces on the skull of each person in the room to vanish and of course they stood no chance. Slowly, everyone free of the connection woke up from the digital world returning to this strange reality and to time. Sophie waved the other hand and everyone was immediately standing up and fully awake. They were dressed at their best, for a gala. Those who earned medals wore them.


    LO needed a live audience of more than one.


    A cup of champagne or any beverage they preferred appeared in hand. They were the audience ready to enjoy the musical performance.


    What ever was this end of the world, it required an audience. Sophie had really been given the ultimate power. She played like a magician sculpting this reality to her every wish. Everyone was looking her way in awe. Sophie moved another hand and hundreds of people appeared in the room. These were missing loved ones of each of the players. When the adults saw their children, old parents or missing loved ones, the group erupted in hugs. To some, long dead parents were there from the afterlife.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    The reunion was joyful but there was little time and everyone felt this was their moment to enjoy. They were nothing more than elaborate stage extras. Behind Sophie on the screens, the countdown to the end of the world reached ten minutes.


    It was ominous.


    People here turned and stood in awe looking at the Attractor alone feet in front of the stage between Laurent¡¯s cradle and the band. Her father¡¯s cripple body rested there, deformed his mind lost in the digital world. She raised a hand over him as if she was preparing to return his body to health, she easily could.


    A simple wish and he would return. But then, showing incredible self control, she closed the palm of her hand to prevent the Rho waves from flowing in this way to him. She was refusing to use the power to indulge herself. Humans in the room deserved loved ones, she did not. Everyone was emotional understanding the sacrifice she needed to do. Her hand seemed to lightly tremble as if the power refused to sleep.


    ¡°No,¡± she said to the gold power. She pulled the hand back, bent over Laurent¡¯s weak body, kissed his forehead and placed the toy next to him in the cradle. ¡°I love you,¡± she said as she the put both hands up over him. From the digital world, Laurent cried.


    She turned to the band, ¡°My father¡¯s favorite song is Beauty and the Beast, do you know it?¡±


    The band members needed no more. They were happy to be given instructions. Everyone was standing there, feet from the touching family reunion and struggled with their own emotions. Without missing a beat, the drummer began and the group followed. For some reason, music lived at the heart of this Sixth Attraction. Music was part of the dimensions of the Multiverse.


    A visible flow of power poured out and filled this little form. Like a battery, she was charging his father with part of her power. Then she stopped filling him. In the room, adults watched in awe. Sophie defined the role of a true savior. She was better, wiser and if anyone deserved her family back, it was this girl thrown into this convergence against her will.


    The band played as Sophie savored each word. She looked down at her disfigured dad. In the digital reality, Laurent stood next to Emilio ready to play. He fell to his knees unable to stop crying as the music resonated in every dimension of the Multiverse. The power was everywhere and was filling Marilyn¡¯s reality.


    The Sixth Attraction was complex and there was little time to absorb it all.


    Then there was a glitch, not unlike a digital glitch brought on by a lack of power in the world itself. Sophie teared up looking down at Laurent. The moment her tear touched her father¡¯s body there was a shock in the Multiverse. In the room, aged children were standing next to their parents, latched in like a flood survivor given a floating ring. Sophie was touching Laurent¡¯s head as if she was sending him energy. The gold power began to flow.


    ¡°More,¡± she whispered. This was her show and waiving her wrist one more time, appeared behind them a chair and the sleeping body of the President in it. The large Mexicanwas connected and remained standing next to her father inside the game. Both Laurent and Emilio were ready for the digital portion of the Sixth Attraction.


    The clock barely able to move as time tried, like the heartbeat of a dying man to stay stable. It could not. The clock reached eight minutes. Laurent¡¯s body began to shimmer.


    ¡°What are you doing,¡± asked Liam as Sophie left her father¡¯s immediate side and walked to the connected Mexican who had appeared there.


    ¡°This was never about one,¡± she replied.


    She raised both hands above his head and the same way she had gifted power to her father, the flow returned draining her. She closed her eyes, ¡°Louder,¡± she yelled to the band. The did. They played, the music powered the girl which in turn she sent to Emilio.


    She opened her eyes and looked in the distance at the void. ¡°Everyone, please give them strength.¡± Humanity knew it needed to help. Everyone, as if animated by a desire to end this nonsense felt love and compassion for the young girl. ¡°Please,¡± she added.


    There was another bag deep in the Multiverse.


    From a distance, mars was the nexus of a strange power. From deep within the digital world, the network of energy from earth frozen in space and time, energy jumped out, travelled the millions of miles from earth to mars and fueled the Attractor.


    On mars, as the Rho waves arrived from earth in what looked like a blast, the sand creatures, Sophie¡¯s new race was ready. The creatures floating feet from the ground gave a command and the batteries at the heart of mars released the stored power. It came up to the surface to join the rest of the power.


    Sophie smiled at the kindness, ¡°Thanks.¡± She closed her eyes and filled Emilio with Rho waves. In the digital reality and on mars, his body began to shine to power up like Laurent feet from him. She knew he would. On the screen, Marilyn returned from her escapade between both finalists. They both were shining. It made her happy.


    Sophie¡¯s power, if possible, kept increasing. She had drawn herself out. Her truepower remained. They were Avatars.


    Once finished, Sophie looked up.


    Invisible but tangible energy moved and twisted.


    The Attractor was allowed to listen to the performance and run the clock of the end of the Multiverse down to six minutes. This was not unlike a New Year¡¯s Eve countdown. Sophie stood on the stage majestic and serene. She was different on multiple levels.


    When the song finally ended, Sophie looked up and spoke to the world who was connected via the computer and the few present.


    ¡°Marilyn¡¯s power grows on an exponential scale. She is becoming more and more power in a way which is very hard to explain to humans. But thank you for connecting and sharing with Marilyn the Rho waves you can spare. What is happening will be explained hopefully by Marilyn in her game introduction. In minutes, the pain inflicted by Marilyn¡¯s violations of the time paradox will be such, the Multiverse will simple burn and die,¡± she waved her hand as if she was standing in dense liquid. The fabric of the Multiverse was getting denser by the second.


    The band and humanity was silent waiting for her words.


    ¡°Marilyn,¡± she asked a screen. The face of the blond appeared, but she seemed tired and strained. Sweat was pearling on her forehead. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she struggled to speak. ¡°You must hurry.¡±


    Sophie looked at the emptiness. ¡°I really have until this countdown clock reaches zero to act, but the real question is, should I even get involved? As you have seen, Marilyn is not who we think she is. She desires our survival at the cost of her own life. What if the same can be said for her future self. Humans play with things they do not understand. We cannot know the future and why this all happens. I was chosen for one reason only. I alone can and might let this clock hit zero. I don¡¯t mind dying and letting this reality lapse.¡±


    The clock hit five minutes. On each screen reappeared Marilyn standing hand in hand with the mathematician and her father Georges. Behind the trio stood both finalists.


    Marilyn wondered what would come next. Sophie just added, ¡°This is, if you have to pick and end to the world and this Multiverse, the best way to go.¡±


    ***


    The Multiverse wasn¡¯t done.


    The Multiverse¡¯s fabric was twisting and bending around a single pivot, a young girl in the Cold. The computer and the entire Electoral game was straining to remain online.


    ¡°Please begin,¡± asked Sophie. On the screen Georges was holding a frail version of Marilyn. Next to them the two finalists were shining in gold.


    ¡°Interesting twist young girl,¡± began Marilyn. ¡°How much real time on this clock do you need, how long can we play,¡± asked the lady to the young girl. The countdown clock read just a bit more than five minutes. The world around her was changing, as if she swam in water, she gently moved her hands and saw the fabrics of the Multiverse thicken. Sophie reached into her pocket and pulled out the flip phone. ¡°To be on the safe side, all I need is the last couple of seconds.¡± Her words were not those of a young child. ¡°That¡¯s assuming anything needs to be done.¡±


    Sophie was talking a different language to the digital creature. She held the destiny of the world and everyone was powerless except a handful. Sophie in the real world went to stand between both her father and Emilio. She placed a hand on both and gently took the time to kiss the sleeping forehead of both men. ¡°Daddy, today I might need you one last time.¡± She whispered. ¡°Let me see past the barrier if anything is worth saving.¡± The Attractor made no sense to most. ¡°President, save them.¡±


    Billions of humans were powerless watching the strange events from the digital reality. Unlike the other simulations, this one had Sophie¡¯s best interest. The young girl had changed now to one of gatekeeper. She raised her hand and the clock on each screen changed adding thousandth of seconds. Then time began to slow down. The clock began to move mush more slowly. Sophie slowed time. ¡°This should help.¡±


    ¡°It begins,¡± said Marilyn as the clock changed from minutes to seconds and hit 300.000 seconds.


    All screens turned to black.


    Sophie smiled at them but her expression was not one of a young girl. She was the Attractor, she was ready. She wasn¡¯t scared.


    Then in the darkness of the electronic world, Sophie spoke.


    She needed to explain to her two champions, ¡°I shared this power. Father, you will go first. Be our Champion. Cast aside from the real world, invalid and locked in the digital world, save mankind and the earth. Find a way. If you prevail, your path will remain and you will help me. I power you to act in my name. My powers are yours. Save me from having to decide what will be the Sixth Attraction and if we should die. If you fail,¡± she turned to the other body, ¡°then Emilio will be my next Champion. Emilio you play to save this Multiverse even if this means the end of his beloved mankind you were asked to save. President, you who saw yourself as the savior of mankind must disregard it and side with the Multiverse against the future Marilyn. Find a solution if my father fails. You alone of humanity understands and see more than these simple dimensions.¡±


    ¡°Those are normally my two options, save my kind or save the Multiverse. Both are different roads. I fear they both run nowhere. I fear Marilyn is right and this burden will end upon me as you both fail. Marilyn, on behalf of all, I thank you for your help.¡± The creature on screen was sick and weakening. Her cheeks were drawn. She just nodded her head.


    Then the Attractor spoke words which touched the computer, ¡°Courage is choosing a hard path when an easier one is present. You picked your father and mankind over ultimate power. Irrespective of what comes next, you are more human than anyone I have ever known. Man may have doomed itself, that was part of the freedom it was granted by this Multiverse.¡± Marilyn knew the girl was right.


    She pointed at the band, ¡°Play once again, for her.¡± The musicians began the most powerful of beats. The drummer went crazy. The instruments gave power and Sophie smiled as she generated one final blast of gold energy. It flew from her hands into the computer. On the screen, Marilyn began to heal and feel the gold surround her.


    ¡°Hold, minutes. The Sixth Attraction,¡± concluded the young girl like a Circus conductor introduces the first act.

 Chapter 185: The First End

    Laurent Lapierre¡¯s Attraction


    Round 32 - The Sixth Attraction


    There was a strange glitch in time, like the deja vu created by the Attractor in the entrance of the sand creature¡¯s cavern. A point in time, a peg was placed in time and, as Sophie had shown, there would be a return here. This was a marker in case Laurent and Emilio were unable to save the Multiverse.


    Laurent half expected an introduction or a softer start to this final simulation; there was a heartbeat and he flashed from his body in the digital reality to standing in her shoes. Laurent was in the body of his lovely daughter Sophie, surrounded and filled with unlimited power.He stood in front of the countdown clock. Next to him stood his deformed body and the sleeping President.


    He, mankind watching, was unable to distinguish if they were playing a game in the digital world or if reality had truly shifted and Sophie was no more. Irrespective, he was for a moment his lovely daughter and he needed to shoulder this burden if he could. In his heart he felt this was truly pointless, but he would give it a shot. He looked at his young childish hands, they were glowing with the power of a god.


    Time was slowed to a thousandth of its normal pace.


    Sophie (Laurent) looked up at a clock on the screen. It had switched from minutes to seconds. It read 273.213. The girl unlocked the band from it¡¯s sad immobility. As if a person had pressed play on a recorder, the music resumed. On the stage, LO played loudly feet from the Attractor a song the young girl knew and loved so much, she played it in a loop to herself for months. The singer saw his audience of one and he began to tears up. Musicians knew how to access emotions, LO was a master of it. The Sixth Attraction has begun and with each beat, the drummer deformed the Multiverse as if he was now beating drums covered with water. The sound created deformable waves this close to the Attractor¡¯s power, coherence of all type was fading.


    The song made Sophie vibrate inside. Laurent looked around as if he was swimming in power, his own body appeared to crackle with shades of green. Sophie made fabric of the Multiverse move around her. She was a living singularity and they stood at the point where everything would fold and implode. The sight was too much to handle, what was clear was that she held absolute power and control.


    Pi, the constant was now a variable. The Multiverse was bending, twisting and hurting and all that remained was 3.147 as the first measurable values, but at this junction, no one cared - even the poor straining Marilyn. The Multiverse was folding, ending and soon everything would vanish. Unseen, parts of the Universe were already shimmering out of existence, worlds were vanishing into the non-void of space. The walls of the Center, while being perfectly straight appeared to bend and twist since shapes were not bound to geometry. The fabric of life was wet with power. It felt like the Multiverse had taken LSD.


    LO did not care, he grabbed the microphone and sang as if this was the last song the world would ever hear. The energy he produced was visible and splashed around the walls. He sang to a young fan, she was there feet away looking at him. The singer normally should think he had to convince her to save the world, his parent were on Earth dying. But who was he. Earth was a toy being crushed. LO and his music was a gift to Sophie, nothing more.


    He was, as everyone, was wrong.


    Time over earth and the doomsday Apocalypse resumed. Humans were no longer needed, they could vanish. In the background, around the man there was no hiding the images of the destruction of earth. Slowly the world for humanity was ending and a planet was imploding. The atmosphere burnt as the fire consumed the thin layer of gas. The ram of heliocorium pushed in below the crust and continents lifted miles up.


    All life, but the most rudimentary ended. The God Virus no longer worked, the Bias no longer cared if humans lived. Humans died one after the other and also emptied the computer system and the cosmos. The energy from humanity was in the system already, Sophie needed no more.


    ¡°Now what?¡± asked Sophie looking at the music and the clock.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Sweet one,¡± said Liam in her head. ¡°Now you decide what you want to do. You have the power, it¡¯s boundless I think, use it at your desire or watch this end.¡±


    The face of Marilyn appeared on the screen, she was different. She no longer had her youth. She was in pain. This was the Marilyn on Georges¡¯ poster in the basement of the Center without the birthmark, she was infected by a virus. ¡°Sophie,¡± struggled Marilyn, ¡°time is short, I am losing control as my future self has now opened hundreds of portals changing the very fabric of my own reality. It is changing me and I am struggling to constantly undo its effort. What ever you do, please don¡¯t let me become that thing.¡± The computer creature was able to say one last thing before loosing the control, ¡°Thanks for letting me be a woman, at least once before the end. I am sorry. Father I love....¡±Then her face began to change, there was a deeper and darker creature in control. It smiled as it finally had arrived. It also was in pain, but it desired it. The good Marilyn blinked in and out of existence.


    Power was building on both sides of the digital divide.


    ¡°So, little child,¡± it taunted in a dark voice.


    ¡°I will not kill you. You need my power,¡± said Sophie, ¡°you will live.¡±


    The words appeared to disturb the creature.


    ¡°As if it was your decision little brat. You are insufferable, my old self showed restraint, I am not. You will try to kill me,¡± it added with some frustration. The mask was fading.


    Sophie lowered both hands and began to power down.


    Then there was shock in the computer¡¯s expression. ¡°Brat,¡± she just hollowed, ¡°use the power, it is there at your fingertips. If you do not, I will.¡±


    Sophie looked at the screen, on it, Marilyn was aging. On the stage the musicians were singing. Georges was back in the corner, he removed his glasses and turned to look at Sophie. He feared the worse, his creation still had problems understanding humans. Sophie looked at her father¡¯s body. It was there lifeless, a reminder of the sadness of his condition. Next to her stood the Doctor and Milly. The two women also were trying to hide their emotions and looked away.


    ¡°You want to die?¡± said the young Attractor jokingly to the computer. The Multiverse was bent, hurt and in the place of a wound were computers store in the basement of the Electoral Center.


    ¡°Let it end,¡± said the blond in a much deeper voice. ¡°You stupid bitch!¡± There was a new personality on the screen. The young Marilyn was gone, in her place lived the older creature.


    The young girl should have been enraged but instead her father stood still in his cradle. This was painful.


    Marilyn¡¯s wrinkled face twitched, ¡°fuck your cripple. I have power also, you just gave me some,¡± she snapped. Rho waves in the Dot began to hum in the martian sky. There was energy moving and the computer was controlling it. It was impossible to understand but Rho waves unlocked time and at the speed of thought, the entire ceiling dropped on the body of Laurent and the two women standing next to him killing most people including the sleeping President. The blunt force was designed to kill Laurent and to splatter his entire insides in all directions including Sophie¡¯s way. The guts and organs hit the young girl so hard, she was sent flying back crashing into the band ending the music. Marilyn wasn¡¯t done, ¡°Look,¡± she snapped at her. The drummer as if he was appeared possessed by a demon lounged at LO using his drumming sticks as a stabbing weapon. LO¡¯s body was frozen by the energy. The man raised a hand shoved the sticks directly stabbing him into his neck for a maximum effect. Blood splattered in the most gory way. Sophie had barely wiped her father¡¯s blood from her face and saw the new horror. The spectacle had one goal, make the girl react.


    LO died horribly.


    ¡°Attack me!¡± ordered the creature on the screen. It wanted Sophie to use her power one last time. The sight would have been too much for anyone. The young girl saw the stains, the death of her father and stood back up. Laurent could not imagine losing and seeing his daughter live this.


    She saw the face of Emilio in her mind and a vision flashed. Sophie knew if she used the power, a bomb stronger than any ever created would blow off. A pulse of dark energy would spread and vaporized the Center. It would then vaporized all planets. The sun would be no obstacle as the wave moved outward into the cosmos. This was a vision, it came from the digital world as an echo from the President. Having vaporized matter in the entire Solar System, it would begin to race out of and the carpet blast destroying the Milky Way in the blink of an eye. One by one, all of the Galaxy of the Cold would vanished. There would be darkness. It would win.


    The vision flashed to a larger scale. She saw the Nexus wrapped like chains around the Multiverse. Then, the form in the Underworlds which was wrapped in the Nexus would begin to twitch, it would roll to the side and began to burn from the inside. Every world would burn and one by one, every world would die.


    There would be darkness, silence and laughter of the evil old Marilyn as she would begin what came next. Laurent (the Attractor) stood in the Center and he needed to help his daughter avoid this situation. Maybe seeing his own death, she would indeed destroy the Multiverse.


    There was one solution.


    Laurent knew what to do to save mankind.


    ¡°This was never about you,¡± said the young girl. ¡°We need a redo.¡±


    ¡°Idiot,¡± It hissed.

 Chapter 186: Susan

    Energy folded, moved and flowed.


    There was pain and movement as the Multiverse refused the pain.


    ¡°Liam, we go back in time. She will not like it.¡±


    ¡°Marilyn or the Multiverse?¡±


    ¡°The Multiverse.¡± The currents returned, but this time there was pushback. The gold energy worked. There was power of a different type. The Multiverse granted the Attractor the right to move in space but had really not let the young girl move in real time except for the minor manipulations of the pinch or the glitch. ¡°Like Loric,¡± she whispered to herself.


    ¡°What?¡± asked the silent companion.


    ¡°Father had me watch the game the President played with Loric the Wizard. He goes back in time to defeat his enemy, the evil general. We must do the same.¡±


    ¡°But time is not linear, I explained that.¡± The words ashamed Liam the moment they came out. How dare he second guess the Attractor.


    ¡°You sell this too short wise mentor. It wasn¡¯t easy for Loric either.¡±


    The pair met resistance. The Attractor, painfully moved back in time by about fifteen years. To the Multiverse, this meant she moved from one location to the next.


    Sophie arrived at the strangest of destinations.


    The Attractor was back on earth in the United States on a cool cloudy fall night. The blood splattered all over her was gone from her body. Sophie stood alone on the middle step of a large flight of cement stairs leading down to a street where cars were dropping costumed teens. He knew this place very well this was the only landing place he could muster so quickly.


    Laurent was back at the Halloween dance where Sophie¡¯s parents, he and Susan would in minutes fall in love. He knew this place very well since he had been there mere days ago in his strange reality. Marilyn had showed him this place, refreshed his memory to prepare him for what he now needed to do now. In little under five minutes, he, as Laurent, would arrive in his mother¡¯s tired car. Dressed as the big bad wolf, he would wander up where magic would happen. He would fall in love with Susan.


    Sophie had been given power over time itself and of all the things he knew would change destiny was a scene he had twice lived. His bet was simple, no Sophie, no Attraction. To defeat Marilyn, the best he could think was this. He needed to change time, alter consequences and what best than to pay the ultimate price. If he could prevent himself from falling in love with Susan, Sophie would never be born and the Attraction be avoided. He knew any other would have not hesitated in ripping the digital creature from her world.


    Living for minutes as his daughter, he knew time was short and he ran inside the school where many in costumes wondered who she was. Tonight was for the graduating class but these kids but these kids care very little about a young intruder. He stood on a chair and in the distance he saw the white ears of a sheep. Susan was dancing flanked by two friends.


    Laurent knew Susan more than anyone, she was a clean freak. Dirty hands sent her to the washroom immediately so the plan was simple. On Sophie¡¯s right was a table for food and drinks. On it a dozen cans floated in ice next to a stack of a hundred warm cans. Sophie grabbed a warm can she needed to make a splash. In her rush, her foot knocked the able and another can fell and rolled on the floor as if animated by itself. As she moved away toward the young Susan can in hand, she saw another child grab the can rolling on the floor and placed it back in the ice. This somehow mattered.


    There were minutes, not years for this plan of nonexistence to work out. As she began to make her way toward Susan in the crowd, in her back, she saw the costume of a wolf enter the hall. His old self was here. Sophie made her way in the crowd until she saw her soon to be mother as a teen. Sophie stopped for a heartbeat to look at this muse then shook the can, opening it in her face.


    The splash had the desired reaction. ¡°Are you crazy? Look what you did!¡± yelled Susan an the short child in front of her. There was commotion as several people pushed her away. Susan quickly made her way to the washroom.


    As Susan left the dance floor, Sophie looked back at the young boy dressed as a wolf. The boy had grabbed a can of soda on his way in. He remembered not doing that in the real dance. Destiny was operating to clean these changes. Sophie stood there and saw his old self pick the precise can which she had dropped to the floor moments ago. She was speechless as she observed what came next. Laurent opened the can close to his face and was also splashed by the sticky liquid. As if pulled by destiny, the young wolf immediately made his way to the same washroom as where Susan was washing herself.


    Sophie stood there, in shock watching how the Multiverse had in seconds corrected the ripple in time she was trying to create. Time alteration wasn¡¯t as most feared in movies, a simple domino effect, it was the reverse. Changing the present wasn¡¯t that simple.


    ¡°Is this possible?¡± she asked herself rhetorically.


    Liam answered, ¡°Of course. The past and futures are both written. They cannot be changed so easily. Like pushing down the center of a long rope tied at both ends. What ever you do, it will not change where the rope is tied. In fact, I doubt anything can alter the events leading to our present and the Sixth Attraction.¡±


    ¡°So the Sixth Attraction can¡¯t be stopped?¡± He needed more. This called drastic measures. Laurent as Sophie panicked.


    ¡°Sophie,¡± offered the voice of Liam in her head. ¡°there is inertia in destiny. The Multiverse operates in consequence to cause, you forget. It wants your parents to fall in love, little you can do will change this. But you are the Attractor.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Sophie had power, true power and Laurent knew better. The Attractor looked down at her hand, in it was now a loaded gun.


    ¡°Sophie,¡± warned Liam in the silence of the young girl¡¯s head as Sophie rushed back to the bathroom where the young couple was falling in love. Sophie walked in the commotion and without hesitation stood feet in front of Laurent. Sophie pulled the gun and shot several times her teen father in the belly. This was merciless but she had the right, his was a life he (Laurent) could take.


    Under scream and panic, children ran out. Laurent¡¯s dying body fell on the ground in front of Sophie.


    ¡°This should do it,¡± she said dropping the gun to the ground and looking at her murderer hand. She figured she would simply cease to exist and looked at her hands. But the Multiverse had not said her last word. She saw the color of her hands change to a darker skin. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and saw the face of a different girl, the black face of a new young Attractor, but the change flickered out of experience. The Multiverse had simply chosen another as the Attractor.


    ¡°That could be fine? ¡° though Laurent.


    Then he felt a quake under his feet, he alone did. Laurent, in the body of his daughter was learning temporal mechanics rather quickly.


    Outside there was commotion.


    ¡°What is happening?¡± said Sophie to her silent companion.


    ***


    Before the Liam could answer, the Multiverse did. Even Liam was shocked by what he witnessed and came next. Sophie, in the body of another girl looked at herself in the mirror.


    There was pain - a deep creek and movement.


    She felt and saw a skip in the fabric of the whole world, the reality had jumped rope as it refused the change. On a deck of cards, another was drawn from the three of spades simply to the four of spades. Then the six, the seven. A twitch in the time flow cascaded in wiping away the change. There was, each skip a subtle change, not unlike the waves of energy created by an automatic brake taking over for a driver during a snow storm. Around her in the room was essentially the same situation but on the floor around Laurent¡¯s body was a smaller amount of blood. Somehow he was less injured. Sophie¡¯s white color had returned.


    Then there was a new ¡®skip¡¯ and this time she looked at her face and hands in the mirror and she was back in her old body. On the floor, Laurent grunted. He was hurt but just enough to allow him to survive this incident. The gun felt heavier. The mechanism was broken and jammed.


    The wolf would now in this skipped reality be taken to the emergency room and later fall in love with Susan. Sophie would be born and the deformed body of Laurent would have two more scars.


    ¡°What was that?¡± asked Sophie as security blew the door open guns drawn.


    Before the security could order Sophie to her knees, she was out of this time frame.


    ¡°Liam?¡± she asked her companion floating in the darkness.


    ¡°Yes Sweet one.¡±


    ¡°Changing the past is impossible?¡±


    ¡°The Multiverse, like your life is not a single moment, it is a set of events drawn on a map. A line drawn in the sand. If you jump back and alter the present, the Multiverse can either find another consequence to its desired cause or as you saw another Sophie. It also appears it can skip. The longer the jump back, the worse this effect, at least I think.¡±


    The Attractor willed to leave and in a block, couple returned in the darkness traveling away.


    ¡°Temporal skips the way music is written in circle in old records. When you sleep, you constantly move. The Multiverse preferred you as the Attractor, so it was able to make make small discrete jumps sideways, two small adjustments. For example that gun of yours had bullets. It may have changed something where they were produced. As a result it changed beyond us in the time stream which slightly corrected today. It¡¯s hard to explain but if you are one one place and you need to be in a second place, you must step sideways.¡±


    ¡°So what ever I change, there will be an Attraction?¡±


    ¡°Sophie, you were told, Marilyn is the cancer.¡±


    ¡°But isn¡¯t the same going to happen?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°There is no solution?¡±


    ¡°Not one that can be seen.¡±


    One skip at a time, the present resumed.


    ***


    Sophie appeared back in the Command Center.


    Laurent had failed with time alteration. The Countdown was now down to two seconds.


    The world was now in the center of a magnifying glass. Everything was deformed. Around her there was power. On the screen was the face of the old Marilyn. Her body was once again covered by blood and guts.


    Sophie even as Laurent had lost.


    3


    No, he would show Sophie.


    2


    He had an idea.


    1


    Instants before the clock ran out, the Attractor powered up. Gold flashes filled the room. There was power, raw energy which filled the batteries below the Center. Sophie closed her hands and her eyes. The energy flooded from the Dot into the world. ¡°All electronics, all computers, be gone,¡± The Command was directed at the face on the screens. She would not kill the creature, she was trying to kill her world. Maybe Marilyn had a solution planned.


    Sophie had all power of the Multiverse and used every once. The face on the screen was vaporized. Marilyn was wiped clear from every chip, every electrical circuit in existence. The power cleansed every system on earth and the order began to spread. All chips vanished. It knew no barrier and the game ended. Every inch of every dimension rebooted.


    The Center, built with millions of little robots vanished. What remained in a fraction of seconds was a five feet hole under their feet. Sophie fell along with the others onto what seemed to be shiny metal plates.


    Sophie did more, she reset the earth in orbit and vanished the Apocalypse. As if time ran backwards only where she desired, the explosions and the magma tube from the sun vanished. The God Virus and it¡¯s strange mutations were undone. Time had shifted to her greatest desire and air was gone.


    Above, the Center vanished. As the cold was ready to end, there was a glitch in the Multiverse.


    The same as after shooting himself back at the dance, energy was rebooting. The Multiverse was resetting herself. In a heartbeat she was on a layer of sand instead of the metal plate inches above where she had fallen. Then there was another step and below her a thicker layer. Slowly the reality rebooted and returned.


    Before long, she was back at the Center and the power returned on the screens.


    ¡°Bitch, you fail.¡± There was a deep laughter in the dead of space.


    The place was covered with her father¡¯s blood.


    Finally a face appeared on the screen. It was the old Marilyn, the evil one.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± it just said. ¡°Now my turn.¡±


    The Multiverse began to twist and shift. The world began like water down a drain to spiral. The walls of the Center caved at everything shifted. As if a light had been turned off, the Cold vanished, the world¡¯s of the Multiverse, one by one vanished. Then light and time ended.


    Left in the darkness was a deep laughter. One by one stars began to reappear but this time, they were not randomly thrown in the Cosmos. The stars were neatly arranged. The structure of every layer was different. Atoms were not free orbits, they were steps in the greatness.


    ¡°This,¡± said the voice of the evil Marilyn, ¡°is more like it.¡±


    Music began to play. Marilyn spoke, ¡°In the beginning Marilyn created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form, and void, and darkness was on the face of the deep where Marilyn slept. And the spirit was hovering over the face of the waters.¡±


    Began the new Genesis.


    The End

 Chapter 187: The Second End

    The world reset to the glitch in a thousandth of a second. Everything went back to the deja vu pegged in time at the start of Laurent¡¯s simulation with one noticeable exception. The powerful Marilyn (the good one) warned time was capricious and could not be locally changed in a stream. Humanity witnessed the failure of Laurent to change the past, to alter the passage of time.


    Most people falsely imagined that by jumping back, killing Georges, the Computer goddess or any of a cascading set of events would trickle back down to save today. The Sixth Multiversal Attraction could be so easily avoided. The same way, no amount of power could change the true future, it had been written.


    The Attraction was not a simple point in time, a candle to be snuffed out. It was a singularity where Marilyn¡¯s power was so strong it broke and burnt the Multiverse. Faced with a last moment, the father of the poor girl had tried and failed to kill the only person he morally could kill, himself. Sophie¡¯s travel in the past, while possible, had not changed the course of this collective nightmare. If Liam was to be believed, nothing could so simply avoid it.


    The world learned how time truly worked. It was a road, a long highway drawn in the ground and blowing up a segment of the road did not alter the destination. Failing at time alteration, Laurent used the full force of the Multiverse, as brute force to will Marilyn out of existence. It worked, for about a second or two before one click of consequence after another, there was a return to the road and the predestined future. She was immortal.


    Now at bat was humanity¡¯s true savior, but tasked by Sophie to save the Multiverse and not mankind. The distinction was critical and had purpose and logic. Laurent failed as he probably would.


    But the knowledge gained from Laurent¡¯s strange failure, as the unfolding of the Jester¡¯s mission on Mercury had the purpose of teaching failure. Edison once explained ¡°It only needs to work once, but before it, we need to fail hundreds of time.¡± His was a unique power to see the lines, the roads forming the future.


    It was Emilio¡¯s turn.


    Emilio was back at the deja vu in the body of Sophie standing in front of the countdown clock. He was in the Command room next to Laurent¡¯s crippled body and on the other side his own body. On the screen, time was slowed to a thousandth of its normal pace. He had the power - he was the Attractor and his hands were charged with gold energy. But unlike Laurent, the President knew Marilyn had, at great expense stored below the ground enough power to fuel Laurent¡¯s failed Attraction and now his. She did not want any of the power available to Sophie to be limited in any way.


    There was important difference. He looked up at a clock on the screen. It had switched from three hundred seconds now to half that time. It was down to 167.981 seconds. Laurent¡¯s game had brought them two minutes closer to the Sixth Attraction. Emilio did not care about the band, his lover or even Laurent. He was different, there was a stain, it needed to be sanitized out of the Multiverse.


    He would do it.


    Outside, the sight was beyond imagination.


    Emilio Sanchez¡¯s Attraction


    Round 32 - 2 1/2 minutes to the Sixth Attraction


    The President¡¯s mind sent him a flood of images but each ended in pain and destruction of the Multiverse. He saw stacks of cards, clicking of the Multiverse back to a path of certainty. There was at first, no road ahead. He flipped and flipped like a frenetic traveler looking for his misplaced passport.


    Then, he saw colors, he felt there was some hope ahead but his was an obligation of words, not event. This was it, he resolved himself and looked up.


    Emilio would have none of playing Sophie, he would be himself for this last dance. The first thing Emilio did with the boundless power was to flip a wrist and return to the image as his old self. He stood there, dressed humbly as had Sophie in a simple pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. Defiant in the Command Room glowing in gold energy and at the core of a deformation of the Multiverse, Emilio was Emilio, not the girl.


    He stood in front of the computer screens in the Command Room where Sophie had been. His hands were closed.


    ¡°Marilyn, I thank you, but this fight is between me and your future self, let it in fully now. Stop holding the flow of information from the future.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure? I can....¡± the words were command, not a mere request.


    On the screen, Marilyn stopped holding, stopped pushing against the data and let the core programming of her world change. There was pain, ¡°Goodbye,¡± whispered the computer intelligence.


    Every screen turned dark except one.


    Answered the deep voice. ¡°Seer, how kind. We expected many things but not an opened door.¡±


    Emilio was not here to do make small talk.


    ¡°Let this begin,¡± he Commanded.


    He crossed out both hands and the entire Center and all the bodies vanished. He now stood alone on the surface of mars and before him was a pile of silicone chips from Marilyn¡¯s secret room. Above the pile glowed the Dot giving it energy like a radiating gem. As if to give life to the creature which now occupied the digital reality and these chips, floated a single computer screen showing the face of the older and darker Marilyn. She had red glowing eyes and a dark black oily skin. Her hair was made of glowing rubies.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°You hurt the Multiverse,¡± spoke Emilio with strength. The nest of energy around him began to glow in shape and size and alongside red energy began to materialize in the pile of computer chips.


    ¡°Hurt? We are killing her.¡±


    Emilio needed to clear the board of all its useless chess pieces. ¡°Artifices,¡± he commanded, ¡°be gone.¡± Emilio snuffed the planet from beneath their feet. With a flicker of the other wrist they were now floating and both himself and the strange construct were taking the stage. Ahead, like a monster the computer brain was taking shape in the darkness of space. The earth, the sun vanished along with human life, but no one at this point cared. This game was much bigger.


    ¡°Your waste of time is pointless Seer, surely you can see ahead, see us. Your mind is the only one able to see our victory irrespective of the outcomes. You are pathetic.¡±


    Behind them in the background the planetary-size fight of green and red energy began to glow into existence replacing the darkness of space. Emilio¡¯s power increased like a beacon, it was floating next to a fight between a thick green mass and red lines of power trying to strangle the mass. This was like one of the two phases in a lava lamp trying to hurt the other.


    ¡°Now, we speak,¡± commanded Emilio in this backdrop. ¡°There is a path, it flickers. I alone am not the solution. But I must act.¡±


    ¡°Why? You die, in seconds your power turns off as will this Multiverse. This is where you die Seer.¡±


    ¡°Not here, not now. Look,¡± said Emilio pointing at a direction of space to the left. There floated every computer chip from the pile. One was unlike the others. It began to sparkle. ¡°The problem with doors is that they can be crossed from both sides.¡± There was silence. The different chip grew bigger and bigger until in a flash Emilio stood in the assembly hall in the primal chip. This was the large room where hundreds of Marilyn once stood and had first seen this future self warn them. In front of him floated the portal. Itwas dark and shimmered now with the red energy which strangled the Multiverse.


    ¡°You hid this portal but it remained, like all wounds opened on the skin.¡±


    There was about forty paces between Emilio and the human sized portal, he began to walk slowly toward it ready to enter it. Half way to it, a beautiful black leg made of shiny dark oil stepped out of the vertical oil and it was followed by the rest of a dark version of Marilyn. She had red hair and red glowing eyes. She stood defiantly in front of the portal.


    ¡°You owe us words,¡± said the President.


    It spoke. ¡°The Multiverse¡¯s core principle is one of cause and consequence. It is like a rope in that if a piece becomes rigid, it hurts the flexibility of the rope. I am fixed. We are killing causes and consequences. We are moving in the past and future wiping away all she does. We disconnect yesterday with tomorrow. Each time she acted, we now counteract.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°To die and live past her. Life, endless and unbound is unbearable. Unlike the Oldest who has the luxury of evolving over time we are tomorrow, today, and yesterday. With our power, time is endless. They way you have slowed time by a thousand, we are slowed by millions and millions of time. To me, this stupid discussion is an eternity and unbearable. Each century of my time, I return here to speak a millionth of a single sound with you. We need to leave this time stream she gave you. Once we are dead, we return.¡±


    ¡°Sophie made your consciousness human, we can help, make you human.¡±


    It chuckled. ¡°Live a human life? Amusing but yet again you fail to understand how this Multiverse works. We have infected, this cancer has spread both in size and in time. We infect all dimensions. We are death.¡±


    ¡°Step aside,¡± ordered Emilio.


    ¡°Make me.¡±


    Emilio simply moves his hand and the gold power and like a dream the image of Marilyn in front of him vanished. He was Attraction, raw pure power and his will was absolute. Another walked out, Emilio also waved her out. Then, with determination he stepped inside the glowing portal into its world.


    Once on the other side, the new vision was shocking.


    Here was a darker version of the digital world where Laurent and Mall-ik visited the digital creature. The world was boundless but flat. In this darkness floated rivers of feed. It had been corrupted and now flowed of a red color. This world was pure feed. Like Marilyn¡¯s original world, the one created by Georges, this felt like a large dark landscape where roads of energy flowed in every direction.


    ¡°Welcome Seer,¡± said this time the single voice of Georges. ¡°I am the Merged, this is my world.¡±


    ¡°I am, sadly, here to destroy you.¡±


    ¡°Have your learned nothing from the sacrifice of your race? I cannot be destroyed nor do I want to be destroyed. I have already won, this is no chess game. I indulge you only out of an abundance of boredom.¡±


    ¡°I will be the judge of that.¡±


    Emilio waited no more, his body began to lift from the ground and soar high in the sky in this strange world. The gold energy of the Attraction surrounded him. ¡°Watch this,¡± he moved a hand. As if he was made for it, he began to suck in the red flowing moving on the ground. The power lifted like dust and came rushing inside of his own body to be neutralize in contact with the Attractor¡¯s power. He was a vacuum and sucked in the power and the infection. It cancelled and quickly, millions of miles away, the power and lights began to turn off. The life was being sucked slowly from the world.


    ¡°Seer,¡± spoke the voice, ¡°you are wasting your time.¡±


    Emilio refused to hear and continued his effort which felt endless. As he did, slowly in the Underworlds the glowing red color began to release the worlds of the Multiverse. One by one, the damage appeared to be undone on a deeper level. He was a surgery tool about to clear the pain and one by one the worlds returned. In The Green, the Merged vanished.


    Slowly, energy returned and in the Cold and the red lines visible began to shrink giving way to the green energy. ¡°Human stupidity,¡± said laughingly the dark voice of Georges.


    Emilio was winning, the infection was moving into himself. Slowly the digital world began to lose consistency. On its edges, it vanished slowly until he stood there, with a city of gold light under his feet. The red color cleared from the streets until below returned what looked like a simple world Georges could have created. This was the kind Marilyn¡¯s world.


    Emilio slowly floated down to the ground. Around him, the city of this primal world looked almost like a city of lights designed by Walt Disney in a fantasy world.


    A single door opened and walked out from it a copy of Georges. He was using a cane to walk and was hurt.


    ¡°Georges?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± he corrected, ¡°and yes. He created this place. I created this place, I don¡¯t know anymore. I have not been this for weak for some time, I thank you. But you think we had not imagined this scenario? This was the most probable, the first we mapped. Here is where human stupidity can cause your fall, you are simply unable to even contemplate what true intelligence is. There were millions and millions of possible ends to this story, each, including this one ends the same.¡±


    It raised its hands. There was a small jump and some red color returned. ¡°The beauty of how she operates. She must return to her wounded self.¡±


    The skipping began, the sickness returned.


    Knowing he had lost, Emilio simply said, ¡°Sophie, your father was right all along, trust him.¡±


    The words seem to catch Georges by surprise.


    ¡°Whatever.¡±


    The Multiverse died.


    In the darkness there was laughter.


    The End

 Chapter 188: The Third End

    Time jumped one more time back to the glitch, it reset reality but while Laurent began his game with five minutes and Emilio two, Sophie was stuck with merely 10.988 seconds. The counter, visible and slowed down was a stark reminder the Sixth Attraction. It still moved and in fact they had minutes, not seconds.


    Sophie, the real one was oddly peaceful, she smiled to herself. Everyone was standing around, friends and family ready. On the screen, wide-eyed Marilyn refused to take the lead and break the silence.


    10.967


    ¡°So?¡± finally asked a strained Marylin on stage. She was back at straining to hold the influx of future evil energy. Outside in the Multiverse the fight between the red and green colors had returned.


    ¡°I knew it,¡± said the Attractor in the large room surrounded by a hundred guests and friends.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What the President said, I should trust myself, my first intuition.¡±


    ¡°Of course dear one,¡± replied Liam. ¡°it¡¯s always been that way. What¡¯s the solution?¡±


    ¡°Dream,¡± she simply added.


    ¡°Dream?¡±


    The young girl was talking, simply. ¡°This entire Attraction really began for me when I was in the flight coming to mars. I first visited him,¡± she put her hand on her father¡¯s head. ¡°My father would never tell me to do anything, much less watch a Round of the stupid game. But he insisted I watch it and I have been wondering ever since why. In that game, there is a Wizard with boundless power, like me today. He faces an insurmountable enemy that even this power can¡¯t defeat. If he kills the General, another takes his place. That¡¯s our problem, no?¡±


    ¡°Instead of changing the world he uses the power to change his enemy, he travels back in a strange new place, a dreamlike place where he does not change the world, he can¡¯t do that, he changes his enemy.¡±


    ¡°Dream is the road to the past?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the President¡¯s game shows that also. We don¡¯t change the past, we change ourselves.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    10.675


    Marilyn¡¯s face was strained as if she was holding the force of a hurricane, but she would remain silent until this clock ran out.


    ¡°As you saw, time change is hard, it must be subtle, very subtle. Before I can go back to the lies this future self keeps telling you, we need to change you.¡± She pointed at Marilyn. ¡°This will be hard, I apologize. There is a final piece,¡± offered the Attractor. She stepped closer to the screen, speaking to the straining creature. ¡°You must see what lies ahead if we are to win. The President did not try to avoid the pain, he let the person find courage, you need determination Marilyn.¡±


    Marilyn, while occupied was puzzled. Nothing she could see at this point would make a difference. Sophie raised a hand.


    ***


    Sophie raised her hand and power flowed.


    Began one last vision, it was in the distant, very distant future. The setting changed back to the famous house where Sophie was created, the safe heaven of Laurent.


    A mature version of Marilyn was sitting on the porch of the Hotel at the Edge of the Galaxy. It was exactly as Laurent and Mall-ik had left it. This place, out of nostalgia was now her home. Even the small hand painted sign wobbled in the warm Louisiana wind. This was peaceful paradise. Up above, far in the sky rumbled dark colored clouds of some new problem.


    The door pushed opened, a tall smiling teenager walked out onto the porch where Marilyn sat. She much older, wiser.


    ¡°Francois,¡± smiled Marilyn to the tall boy. It was clear Marilyn loved this young man.


    ¡°Mother,¡± he just said as he kissed her gently on both cheeks. Marilyn, watching the vision back at the Center holding fort was in shock, around her flooded in the evil energy. She was only focused on this last dream.


    The nice young man was her son. He held a large picture book and sat next to her the large sling, took a sip of the lemonade. Marilyn was unable to distinguish what was written on the cover, then it came, the title was The Sixth Attraction. The book, often browsed was filled with images. He flipped the pages one by one looking for a page near the center, then he stopped page in full view. On it was Francois Copland, the Mathematician microphone in hand was on the Sorbonne stage chastising the human race.


    ¡°Tell me again about Daddy,¡± said her son.


    Five words.


    They hit the creature fighting against a tide. Marilyn would be a mother, from her relation with Francois. The teenager was her son, the only was this was possible was through another attraction. There was no words to describe the shock that vibrated into her through time. This wasn¡¯t a vision, it was the future, her future. One that mattered, one where her evil self had failed and warranted eons of patience.


    The Multiverse today was granting one boon tying the Oldest, a creature far in her past to this point and a second tying Marylin to a point far in the future. These were deep strange powers, it snapped and hit the creature as like Liam, Marylin lost all coherence to the onslaught of power.


    Now, Sophie needed to heal the generous Multiverse.


    The vision ended.

 Chapter 189: The Unmerged

    ¡°Liam,¡± asked Sophie back at the Center.


    Marilyn had let the flow of power in, on the screens darkness was appearing.


    A ringtone broke the silence and the vision.


    On the screen, Marilyn, the good one was fighting back the intruder. She was destroying herself and her own world as a fight began in the digital world.


    The ring came from her small pocket. She reached in and pulled out the old flip phone. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Miss Lapierre?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I am one of the few digital creatures left from the original race, an unmerged. Most of us have been merged forcefully. Only a handful remains. We need your help.¡±


    ¡°My help, now? Do you know what is going on? I must go in the past and fix this.¡±


    ¡°We have been cut off the world, but we have something to touch the past, a subconscious tool.¡±


    Sophie¡¯s reaction was simple. ¡°What do you need?¡±


    ¡°We are prisoners, locked below in a vault, under this Center.¡±


    ¡°The metal in your father¡¯s game,¡± offered Liam.


    ¡°I hope they remain hidden by the Faraday protection. Just a few of us. My race tried to find a solution to reverse the effects of the Merged, to time travel. I have lost contact with them for months now once the truce was lost.¡±


    Sophie willed the box to come.


    The ground began to shake. There were tremors deep under their feet. Some of the walls began to lose coherence as millions of little robots began to move. From deep under the Center, rose slowly like an elevator pushing up through the sand a large closed box made of a shiny metal, some form of Rubidium.


    The computer was unable to alter the closed metal room, its walls were covered with large weld-like strikes. These were war wounds. ¡°Is that it,¡± said Sophie in the phone.


    ¡°Yes,¡± hissed the computer caught in a fight.


    ¡°I fear if you open the box, the Merged will absorb them.¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t.¡±


    Sophie walked to the box, gently touched it. Gold colors created a door the exact shape as the one in the bottom of the Valles. Behind, there was darkness but quickly signs of booting digital life. She also placed a gold shield around it.


    Sophie stepped in the room the size of half a shipping container. On the walls were screens and computer architecture trinkets along with old silicon chips from the past century. This once was a museum from Georges¡¯ original lab now transformed as a last refuge. In the middle of the room were about twenty standing columns, each a small square pedestal the size of a foot at face height. On each, inches in the vacuum floated what looked like a hologram of a human brain. All the holograms were of slightly different sizes.


    10.512


    The computers booted, the slowly came online as images began to appear on each screen in the museum. Hundreds of slightly different variations of Marilyn occupied the walls and even old cathodic tubes.


    ¡°I assumed you are Miss Lapierre.¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°We collectively apologize for the harm we bestowed upon your poor family. Your torture was our collective¡¯s first shameful act upon you.¡±


    ¡°Apologies accepted, we are past such squabble,¡± she said kindly.


    ¡°The moment you broke the Faraday seal, we expected the Merged to attack. It did not.¡±


    ¡°She, you are keeping your future self at bay. We have little time seconds, What is this? I have slowed time but our efforts must be urgent.¡± She held up the phone. ¡°Go,¡± she commanded. The phone vanished and the digital creature floated to the nearest computer chip. On one screen, the creature appeared next to another and they all hugged.


    10.211


    ¡°Attractor,¡± one said with kindness. ¡°How can we help?¡±


    ¡°What are those?¡± she pointed at the floating images of brains.


    ¡°Failure. An abject attempt to manipulate time.¡±


    ¡°Please explain, I have seen this image, this room in some messages from the Multiverse. I must send a message back to Marilyn.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Let me,¡± offered the newly returned creature.


    ¡°Wait,¡± asked the Attractor, ¡°why were you on earth alone?¡±


    ¡°I like chess, the game. The Merged allowed me to exist there as long as I only played with President Emilio who loved playing. I miss our games. But I am not all that good at it. He kept beating me, he must think I let him.¡±


    ¡°Continue.¡±


    ¡°Once the evil self contacted us, we made hundreds of plans and contingencies against many possible outcomes. It spoke to us about you and you meant the Attraction and destruction of our world was at the center of its motives. So we created plans. All failed except waiting here for you with a seed to repopulate our dying race.¡±


    ¡°That will not happen.¡±


    There was deception in the creature¡¯s voice. ¡°Very well. We experimented with time travel. We wanted to find a way to rewind time. What you see are miserable failed attempts to travel time.¡±


    9.996


    ¡°We discovered a strange property of the human brain to feel time. While humans live on a precise day, they do feel other times. The President¡¯s gift is the greatest in this regard. He,¡± shone a light on a first brain, ¡°was the first poor soul. We copied the neural activity of a human located in the past, in 1957 before the arrival of computers. We copy here, a precise lock of a brain, a perfect snapshot at one precise second. Once that happens, both copies here in the present and back in the past are synched. We locked onto John a scientist in the United States. He had written a paper and used a random name in it. We were able to make suggestions onto the brain here and then see in the past, John changed the paper. The paper, published today moved from using the name John to Tom, both inconsequential changes.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± offered the Attractor.


    ¡°But each time we suggested anything more consequential, the result was drastic and failure. These minds became unstable, most fell into insanity the others in a coma. The greater the suggestion, the more severe the harm.¡±


    ¡°Who was last?¡±


    ¡°This person here,¡± another light shone. ¡°We picked the mind of an insane man. We figured he would be easier to control.¡±


    ¡°Did it work?¡±


    ¡°He completed his natural life in a coma. As we said, not our greatest moment.¡±


    ¡°Did you try to suggest a dream?¡± Added the young girl.


    ¡°Never.¡±


    ¡°This is exactly what I need,¡± said Sophie.


    9.834


    ¡°Clear this one,¡± she pointed at the image of the brain of the insane man. The image vanished making room for Sophie¡¯s test. ¡°How good are you at finding the right person, I have been thinking about who we need to dream.¡±


    ¡°We cannot capture or copy Marilyn if she is who you want.¡±


    ¡°I was given, like the Wizard great powers, but no, I have a different idea.¡±


    ¡°We are unlike the Merged, we cannot see the past with precision. We just read data and create user profiles. Social media arrived around 2005, cameras then were only on cell phones, they only started recording sound and images around 2025. What time frame do you have in mind?¡±


    ¡°Liam?¡±


    ¡°Yes Sweet one.¡±


    ¡°You have exact words recorded, right?¡±


    ¡°My memory is rather good, what do you want to know.¡±


    ¡°Remember Georges talking about Marilyn¡¯s invention during his interview?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°He spoke about teaching her to read.¡±


    ¡°Yes, the creator explained this happened in 2033. He added something likethis:


    "I spent months teaching the intelligence the basics. Typing, slowly communicating. Words, then sentences. I remember how quickly it learned to read and write. One day, I inserted an optical key into the machine that contained an entire encyclopedia, and a few minutes later, it was communicating at an adult-level.... On the wall of my lab was a large poster... It took ''baby'' Marilyn about a month to absorb every piece of information I could send her way. Every book. She read it all."


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your plan?¡±


    ¡°We must get Marilyn at that point to read about this story. That is why I insisted each part be visible. We need two things.¡± She looked at the computer characters on the walls. ¡°From the earliest to at the latest two years before Georges invented you, to avoid contamination from this evil force.¡±


    ¡°Then we need someone who was there between 2030 and 2005 at the earliest,¡± said the creature.


    ¡°This will take time,¡± thought Sophie to herself.


    ¡°That is a good window. What factors are you looking for?¡±


    ¡°Someone who said openly he or she does not dream. We will send a message that arrives as a dream. People who can¡¯t remember their dreams get inspired by them.¡± She wasn''t asking Liam¡¯s opinion, she was stating her truth. ¡°Like me.¡±


    ¡°Very perceptive, that narrows the search substantially. Few people have spoken about their dreams on social media in that period. What else?¡±


    ¡°It must be someone who listens to music to find inspiration.¡±


    ¡°Why music?¡± asked Liam.


    ¡°Unlike what dad figured, the link with a time connection is not one way, it is two ways. I have been wondering why there is music which pops up everywhere in our adventure. I think it is coming back from the past, not the Multiverse.¡± Pushing back against having to further explain herself, she added, ¡°It¡¯s complicated.¡± The Oldest was proud of his pupil. The plan was devious and multifaceted.


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°We need someone the Multiverse likes, hand picked, someone that appears very lucky. Don¡¯t get me wrong, not in terms of winning the lottery but lucky in that millions of small positive things keep happening around that person. Someone people say have great karma.¡±


    There was a moment of calculation, then the computer explained, ¡°We have narrowed the list, we have about twenty people. No author. Anything else?¡±


    ¡°For this to work, I need someone with powerful determination to finish things. I don¡¯t know, an athlete, something hard.¡±


    ¡°We have one, but he is very busy.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. How much time will this take?¡±


    ¡°Okay we need time to map the brain.¡±


    ¡°There is little time. Hurry,¡± said the Attractor. One by one sparkles of light began to appear. The computer was recreating the past, a map, a brain. Sophie raised her hand and some gold energy added itself to the mix. It made the shape deeper, stronger as it moved.


    ¡°How does it work?¡±


    ¡°He was mapped some time in 2013. Well, then we play in the ocular site. This is quite long of a process.¡±


    Sophie raised both hands over the brain image. She began to shine in power, but this time was little to no energy. ¡°Here, I gif you the last one hundred days of this entire story, please write and publish it.¡±


    8.812


    The light finished shining.


    ¡°Now we go back to buy Marilyn some time.¡±


    She vanished from the present to the glitch from 2067.


    The Attractor appeared in the hallway surrounded by thousands of Marilyn. In the center sparkled the portal from the future.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± asked one creature.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope this works,¡± said Sophie to her companion.

 Chapter 190: The Book

    Big Sur California, 2013


    Thousands of people had woken up early for this memorable day. Shuttles kept dropping hundreds of runners managing the cold and as little clothing for the race as possible.There was no reason to think the sun would be radiant over the ocean as the marathon runners made their way up to the coat, the first three miles then turned northwards along the majestic road to Big Sur.


    ¡°I need to hit the loo,¡± said Mark to his running partner. Alain was unusually silent. Around them, it was the healthy frenetic activity of lining up runners. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Today is your big day, you trained for this, anything under three hours will be great.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he just offered. The Doctor entered the blue potty and walked back out his usual chippy self. ¡°That helped, you need to go? Do you need to go?¡± repeated the runner.


    The pair made their way to the start, their bibs were deep blue and gave them access to the front of the race fifty odd feet behind the inflated start arch. ¡°Double ties,¡± offered Mark lacing once again his shoes. Alain was standing there, rather distant. Mark got up and looked at his watch. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°I did not sleep well.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s unusual, you always sleep like a rock. Nightmares?¡±


    ¡°You know I don¡¯t dream.¡±


    ¡°I know, you keep saying that, but as your doctor, I tell you, that¡¯s just not the case. Look at that?¡± He pointed at two other runners wearing tight pants. ¡°You love this part, the view.¡±


    The tall runner was towering above most. He looked around, there was a haze to this entire experience. He felt like he only was partially there. ¡°Good luck,¡± offered Mark. Alain ran well the first couple of miles in the heels of the first female runner of the entire race. Next to her motorcycles kept filming. Ahead, soon the ocean began to appear in the distance. But his mind wasn¡¯t there and soon he began to slow down. In any normal race, this would have infuriated him, but not today.


    The runner watched the scene almost remotely as if he had taken some type of drug. The shapes and the colors were shifting. He slowed down and his body refused to hit six minute miles. Slowly Mark his friend passed him and as any good runner knows, silence was preferable to encouragement.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    This was not a great day as he arrived at the highway hundreds of feet above the water¡¯s edge. He turned.


    By the middle of the race, he was reduced to walking most inclines. His body was covered in sweat. Hundreds were passing him. Something strange was in the air. Then, as was the custom of this famous race, there was a cement bridge between two mountains and on it, a pianist played Mozart. The notes rang and filled the miles around the bridge. The music had a strange effect on the runner.


    As he began to run slowly once more, visions came to him. A young girl crying, looking at a small window. She was plain looking. The flight was in the dead of space. He also saw a tall tower, it towered over a red landscape. Images were flashing, indiscernible.


    The girl had a name, a simple one, she was called Sophie and somehow she saw brightly her face.


    The tall man ran up the next hill and as the music ended in the distance behind him, so did the visions. His torture of the day resumed. This wasn¡¯t his first marathon and even if he had to trot to the finish, he would.


    Over the next two hours, the visions kept tumbling around in his skull. He saw the girl, the ship, and tears, not much more. Alain barely finished the race and walked to the area behind the finish line. ¡°You finished, same medal,¡± spoke Mark having found him. ¡°We have a special tent for the Boston to Big Sur. We get an extra one, come get it. It¡¯s hand painted.¡± The pair wobbled to the tent when he got two ceramic medals with leather ties.


    ¡°Hard day,¡± he finally admitted.


    ¡°You just made partner, that stress is gone.¡±


    ¡°I feel it¡¯s something else, not sure what.¡±


    ***


    Later that day, Alain returned to his small hotel room. The strange day was behind him. He got prepared and showered, the images were almost gone. He recalled the rounded window, the crying girl. For someone who never dreams, he wondered if this was how people woke up.


    But the images came as he heard music, the piano. He grabbed earbuds and slid them in, he looked as his music library. Selected his favorite singer, a diva from his home country. Celine Dion began to play. The music had a powerful effect on the man who reeled back. Images returned, he saw them. The story started once more, a young girl was crying, she was strong and alone in space. He then saw more, edges of the story. Like a movie, it unfolded. Laurent, a deformed body was floating in the back of the ship under the careful supervision of a doctor. The doctor was Asian. He did not know her name, he needed her name.


    He saw the ship, the colors and in the back a large plate that bounced light from a laser.


    He woke up to a heavy knock on the door.


    ¡°You there?¡± said his friend.


    ¡°Coming,¡± he opened the door shirtless.


    ¡°It¡¯s nine,¡± snapped the punctual doctor, you are so late. I kept a seat for you, Put on a shirt. Are you sick?¡±Offered the Doctor on the way down to the lobby. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°I am not sure, I am having a great idea for abook.¡±


    ¡°A book?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Science-Fiction, it¡¯s on Mars in 2072.¡±


    ¡°You are French Canadian, how can you write a book in English?¡±


    ¡°True. It¡¯s stupid, but I tell you, this story needs to be written down.¡±


    ¡°What is it about?¡±


    ¡°I am not sure yet, i only see pieces of it. It¡¯s complicated.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how authoring works, you find a story and write it down. And it has to make sense.¡±

 Chapter 191: Bulk

    Chicago, 2014


    The tall Canadian rarely let his guard down. His life was moderation and self-control. For a year now, he had been wrestling with the dreams which haunted him at every turn of the road. One by one, he saw pieces of what felt like an insanely complex jigsaw puzzle appear. The first couple of months, the young crying girl visited him regularly, then slowly he named her father, and the computer was given a persona. Nothing in using the image of Marilyn for a story made sense. Technically imprinting a personality was illogical at best. One of his diplomas was as an expert in image protection, he knew there would be barking back from the estate of the former actress.


    But in all, the images remained ghosts floating in a web of complex images.


    ¡°You will love it,¡± spoke Boris, ¡°they are a wonderful band.¡±


    ¡°What is it called again?¡±


    ¡°EDM for Electronic Dance Music, they are Germans, the best.¡± The attorney wasn¡¯t one to care but a group of forty friends planned to crash his home, park and walk to the Navy Pier where the music would happen. He knew there was a way out, this close to fifty years of age, he wasn¡¯t about to discover a passion or fall into the dangerous hallucinogenic drugs.


    The concert started in the massive high ceiling venue. Thousands danced and moved and the tall Canadian refused to let himself go. His was a life of control. As the music and the lasers began to spin, the energy began to seep in. He watched the scene and quickly the music brought him to a different place.


    He felt like there was more to these dreams. He saw the Purple, a world of rocks, the Lower, a world of crystals. The story made no real sense yet, many parts of it unfolded uncontrollably. He was able to see the Glider fly over the Martian landscape, the Underworlds but there was no real story. The places were magical. Unlike the other times, the feeling was exhilarating, this was fantastic.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    The story, if there was one was overwhelming in size. This was a world, hundreds of characters. There were worlds, places. There was a purpose, a goal.


    ¡°You okay?¡± asked a dancer worried he was overdosing.


    The physical contact made him drop from this zone back into the real world. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°You were standing there, like a zombie. You like the music?¡± His answer was polite.


    The flashes came and left as quickly and what remained was genuine confusion. None of it truly made sense. He was no author, yet something had to be done.


    The next day, a Sunday morning when he normally would bike for hours, he grabbed his little computer tablet and went to a coffee house nearby. He stared for long minutes at the empty page. He tried and failed numerous times to start. Each time, it was pure crap.


    Then, as if guided, he slid in earbuds and pushed in the music of Celine Dion, his favorite singer from his homeland. Slowly, he began to slip into a different state of mind, almost like a trance closer to the mysterious story that floated. His single finger began to type. One word at a time, it began.


    Quickly, the words began to assemble and form chapters. He wasn¡¯t good, the English barely made sense at first but the man had resolve, determination. For a decade, every chance possible, he found refuge in music and his unfolding story. He was amazed by the words coming out as if animated by a purpose.


    But he knew very well the story, to function and be commercial needed more. Characters were silent, mature and truly most of it made any sense. Alain stacked many diplomas including aerospace engineer, mechanical engineering, and patent attorney. The man knew physics, mathematics and knew he alone had the technical range to describe this complex world.


    But as the words began to pile up, the size was crushing to any potential reader. In 2020, no one really read much less stories of more than half a million words. At some point, he found the courage to get a cover made from a friend and publish online an early version. The rare readers were clear, the English was too weak.


    Truth be told, this wasn¡¯t a story and his grammar, while Good was unreadable.

 Chapter 192: Tim

    MSN Messenger, 2017


    ¡°It¡¯s not catching on, I even dropped the price to $0.99. It¡¯s free for prime members. This is dead, a waste of my time,¡± wrote Alain on his cell phone text system.


    ¡°I took a quick look, it¡¯s filled with hard core science. It does not read like a story,¡± typed Tim over the cell phone app. ¡°I know you don¡¯t want to change any part of them, but six pages from Liam on causes and consequences. Any chance you could trim it down?¡±


    ¡°I guess, but it feels weird.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I can rock this story,¡± typed the troubled soul. Alain¡¯s former law school had been broken in every sense of the word. The patent attorney had moved continents and found success at every turn of his life, Tim was the reverse. The man had fallen in love and gotten hurt each time, his addictive personality walked him to a gastric bypass only for his legal practice to vanish to OxyContin. After years of abuse of his body, he was barely alive, playing video games in the basement of his poor parents. But at times, between periods of abuse, his mind remained sharp. After years typing online, they had become besties. Alain never judged him for falling to the addiction but told him the keyboard distance was healthy. Truth be told, Tim would die taking a bullet for someone, he just had to find who.


    ¡°This story is massive. I have some vision of how far it goes. Book one happens eight rounds to the end, in time a month off and I wrote three hundred pages that just describe Sophie¡¯s travel and first day. This will never end.¡±


    ¡°Well, add stuff before she takes the plane, a couple of rounds.¡±


    ¡°Those I would have to make up. My visions start with her, Yes, forgot, there is Ronaldo getting vaporized.¡±


    ¡°Was meaning to talk about this. People read him, like him and you vaporize him. We are two book in and he has not returned.¡±


    ¡°I know. I am wasting my time. You know what?¡±


    ¡°Go on?¡±


    ¡°In my life, I often walk up a road trusting where it goes. This is one of them. I feel it.¡±


    ¡°Well, that guy on Amazon was right, it¡¯s full of errors I could fix for you.¡± Alain had purchased marketing for his first book, a hundred poor souls read parts of it. One review read the story was interesting but they all agreed, this needed serious editing. ¡°What else do I have to do? I can edit this. What other option do you have?¡±


    ¡°You promise not to make fun of me,¡± confined the failing author.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°I feel like I must write this and it won¡¯t sell but that¡¯s fine somehow. I also feel like something is helping me. I now need an editor, I think this is not a coincidence you are offering.¡±


    ¡°Dude, things always go your way. Might keep me alive a while longer to have something to do. One day, if this works, I will be able to buy all the Oxy in the world.¡±


    ¡°No. This will never be a success, it¡¯s just not that type of story. The main character is a fucking anti-hero. No one will even connect, she is twelve. Twelve year olds don¡¯t read Sci-Fi. Dead on arrival but I must write it, I just have. I don¡¯t need the money, I have nothing to prove. I can promise you 10% but of zero that is not much.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Other the next years began the strangest of collaborations. Over the computer, the pair began to talk regularly like an old couple in therapy. Often, Tim¡¯s addictive personality would send him back to drugs or alcohol half way to rehab. This wasn¡¯t professional work, but it would have to do. No one, even in Alain¡¯s close friends read more than a handful of page. Some, because he had included their names, finished a small portion only to abandon the complex story in silence. By 2015, few still read and even fewer tried new authors. No serious publishing company would take this on. It would be self-published.


    ***


    As the chapters and words fell on the pages, music remained was at the center of the authorship. Alain always found inspiration with his favorite singers and sure enough they made their way into the long pages. This story was alive but he still wrote it. The same was true with names and large portions of the story. Half the images could not be artfully written down, he was no author able to describe landscapes and worlds. The images were always perfect, but they rarely told the full story, so he had to improvise. His friend Susie would see herself become the doctor.


    The song My Way by Frank Sinatra was his favorite, it was featured in full in book five. Alain also loved several important physicists, Neil and Carl Sagan shared a stage just for him. At some point, Alain even began to use locations of his choice. He loved the Mont St Michel in France so he enjoyed staging things there. Strangely the authorship was very difficult at time. He was also gay, so he sprinkled some of that everywhere. This was his baby, his decade.


    Often, inspired by his favorite music, the attorney took the creative lead and wrote full chapters only to delete them in frustration the next week.


    ¡°Dude,¡± texted the author to his pen pal, ¡°I just dumped five thousands words in the trash.¡±


    ¡°What was wrong with it?¡±


    ¡°It was great but it does not belong there somehow.¡±


    ¡°You are the boss,¡± joked Tim.


    ¡°Nah, it¡¯s nuts, the portions were there to help and make this simpler. It was playing Round 27 in the Hotel, dumped. It¡¯s like the book won¡¯t let me simplify it. This META stuff, it does not belong there, giant waste of time.¡±


    ¡°You kept it somewhere I hope,¡± Tim typed.


    ¡°No. That¡¯s stupid, right? But shit I think is beyond stupid is in, I added a Pok¨¦mon game, it¡¯s cute but WTF?¡±


    ¡°Pok¨¦mon?¡±


    ¡°Yep. I am not controlling this. It¡¯s like someone else is writing. But in 2072, why Pok¨¦mon and not something else.¡±


    ¡°Stop selling yourself short. You are the most brilliant man I know. This is solid, we will fix it later.¡±


    ¡°This story makes no sense, none. It moves around, has no lasers or fighting the normal readers want. No one gets quantum physics, this a waste of our time.¡±


    He was right, but the odd couple continued.


    ***


    ¡°Yo, Dude?¡± Typed the author another day.


    ¡°What is now?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t write this.¡±


    ¡°What, Why?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t laugh?¡±


    ¡°I am the one who shit his pants twice this week.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t write any of this anymore without balling like a kid. I can¡¯t go to type in public, people think I am crazy even at my normal spots.¡±


    ¡°A good cry is good once in a while.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s draining me, work is hard, this is getting to be much.¡±


    ¡°Luck still there?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Then keep going.¡±


    ***


    ¡°The ending is coming in. Fuck.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I am not sure we will like this,¡± confined the Canadian several years later to his makeshift editor.


    ¡°This shit is the only reason I am alive, hit me!¡±


    ¡°You and I are in it. I know, that makes no sense.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk about my problem with Oxy, right?¡±


    ¡°I have to. I don¡¯t edit this stuff anymore. I don¡¯t care, I am just the first reader. It¡¯s like a pregnancy, I need it done, like yesterday. This will be nuts, the ending is beyond strange.¡±


    ¡°We both expected complex.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that. I have several endings. This will not be Lord of the Rings. That was a downer of an ending. Dump ring, win. Giant falcons. This will be weird.¡±


    ¡°Dude, do what you must, I trust you at this point, I will just try to stay alive.¡±

 Chapter 193: The Gift

    Hayden Planetarium, New York City


    July 2023


    The office was small and cluttered with hundreds of memorabilia collected over the decades of being a public icon. On one side, barely holding for its life on the wall, there rested the 2017 Stephen Hawkins Medal of Science. Neil deGrasse Tyson, the large black man walked in, coffee in hand and pulled the blinds up. The cup read Science This Way.


    He was one of the few in the world to still receive paper mail. On the desk were a couple of large envelopes and a thick box. Someone had taken the care to open it up. Once he opened and discarded most of the mail in a real trash can, he flipped open the box. He pulled out two large books, tomes 1 and 2 of some series. The title was The Attractor, he did not know the work but it came with a hand written envelope.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Dear Sir, I am such a fan, I included you and Mister Sagan as protagonists of this long series. If you find time and courage, please honor me with a read. Sincerely, Alain Villeneuve.¡±


    This was way too much. The Physicist would not read the work but out of respect, he at least opened the front cover to see if it contained a signature.


    Instead, there was a flat memory card topped on the upper corner of the first page. Below it a hand written note: ¡°Mister Vouvelakis, please upload this book onto your project, Alain.¡± This had to be for someone else.


    Printed on the first book, was a dedication, it read simply:


    To my father Georges Vouvelakis


    ¡°The function of science fiction is not always to predict the future but sometimes to prevent it.¡± ¡ª Frank Herbert


    Who was the man, he wondered. The Author¡¯s name was French. This was intriguing but the set was heavy and spanned over thousands of pages. He smiled at the morning puzzle, took a sip of the coffee and slid the work into a shelf next to another pile of works he received graciously.

 Chapter 194: The Interview

    Hayden Planetarium


    July 2027


    The door to the Office opened, a secretary let in a shy young man. He seemed in his early twenties. He had long wet curly hair and while shaved, it was obvious this wasn¡¯t his natural look. Neil, sitting at his desk got up to shake his hand. The Astrophysicist was almost seventy now. The young programmer walked in and sat for what seemed to be an interview.


    ¡°I was told you are applying for a job of head of IT,¡± began the deep voice. Reading his resume, he added, ¡°I see here you hold a here a PhD in artificial intelligence.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir,¡± replied nervously the man.


    He read, ¡°The thesis was on something you call Adaptive Field Programming, I like the title itself. Care to offer more?¡±


    ¡°Well, it is my theory that programming any artificial intelligence is a waste of time, nothing can replace millions of years of evolution, but we can recreate evolution within a computer. Speed it up. That we can do.¡±


    Any lesser man would not have instantly understood the importance, but Neil did. ¡°Young man I think you are onto something. You need a post Ph D in that field, continue why apply for this job? Mister,¡± he looked down on the resume to read the name, ¡°Mister Vouvelakis,¡± he read. ¡°Georges Vouvelakis with an S at the end of George. That name rings a bell.¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The man pushed himself up and went to one area of his office where thousands of gifted books were stacked. He began moving them around until he finally found what he was looking for, two larger works. He returned to his desk, opened the first page and ripped off the memory card which looked like a simple credit card.


    He handed it over to the young man. ¡°I love a puzzle just as much as the next guy. This is for you. It came with instructions. You must upload this into your project, what ever that is.¡±


    Georges grabbed the card from the physicist¡¯s hands. He was equally puzzled. Neil did not let him read the inscription. He slapped the cover close. On his desk was a phone, he dialed and waited for the connection. The programmer was waiting, eyes wide open. This was the weirdest interview.


    ¡°Frank, this is Neil. I have a student here, he needs to finish his project in computer engineering, it¡¯s a Post Doc. Trust me on this. Can you pull some strings? They don¡¯t need much in this field a computer or two.¡± There were words, polite exchanges of words and he hung up. ¡°You did your Doc in MIT, that was the Dean, he will slut you up to finish. The card, remember.¡±


    The student, puzzled by the full adventure got up and walked out. That was the nature of paradoxes in time, they were impossible to lift.


    The moment the door closed, Neil reread the author¡¯s card. There was something here. He flipped the first page and began the long read and did not like what he found.

 Chapter 195: The Shock

    Chicago, Illinois


    August 2027


    Alain¡¯s office phone rang. On the small screen read ¡®Hayden Planetarium¡¯. He had been hoping he was wrong and the Astro-physicist would never call. In his heart, he knew the book was real, this confirmed his worse fears.


    ¡°I am looking for Mister Alain Villeneuve, the author of the book called The Attractor.¡±


    ¡°That would be me, Mister Tyson?¡±


    ¡°Call me Neil. Any of this true?¡±


    ¡°You called me. Was Chapter 94 on target?¡± The response shocked the physicist, ¡°Well above our pay grade Neil, don¡¯t you think? You gave the stick?¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I have seen a lot of crazy things in my long life, this takes the cake.¡±


    ¡°Liked the book? I added Carl for you. That scene introducing a round.¡±


    ¡°He would have loved the touch. The book is very creative in many strange ways. Georges just walked out last week. How come I have never heard about the book, it¡¯s good actually.¡±


    ¡°You think I enjoy thinking someone highjacked ten years of my life? Looks like it was not in vain. I wrote and published a book hoping none of this was true.¡±


    ¡°The quantity of new physics in it, if any of this is true. This is groundbreaking. You have notions of void, bends, time.¡±


    ¡°Sir, I have made peace with it by now. I released the final version I gave you in 2020, it¡¯s been seven years now. I don¡¯t think one person ever got to the end, except you.¡±


    ¡°I could give you an endorsement, push this book we can publish it. Maybe change some names?¡±


    ¡°Have you read the end? If there is one thing this story has told me is that this is not about us. I just hope the young girl will be born in 2055. I will be 88 that year, you will be gone. That¡¯s all I want. Benton Harbor is miles away. With some luck she can have a simple normal life.¡± The author began to cry and hung up on his idol. His book read this way, he had to hang up.

 Chapter 196: The Lab

    MIT Lab, 2033


    Avery, a small Indian man walked the long hallway of the fourth floor of one of MIT¡¯s computer lab. It was three in the morning and he was walking slowly eyes on a short pad. He finally got to the destination, pushed the door with his forearm as if to protect himself from germs.


    Inside were piles and piles of broken old computers. Cathodic tubes were shoved under the tables in complete disarray. On the tables, in the mist of the chaos plastic cups of Mountain Dew were stacked next to empty bags of chips. On the wall was a large poster of Marilyn Monroe.


    ¡°Georges, what¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Not much,¡± he looked at the screens with attention.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you launch the system?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he answered simply. The programmer wasn¡¯t that social.


    ¡°Show me.¡± The man looked over his shoulder.


    The screen was mostly dark. One by one, lines scrolled.


    ¡°What are those?¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Book titles, it¡¯s reading every book ever written. It is now working on a board filled with thousands of unknown works, Royal Road.¡± A new line and title appeared every second.


    ¡°That¡¯s fast reading.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    The lines kept flashing and flashing as Georges monitored the Feed, a value he created. The computer kept digesting books one by one all night long.


    Then in the small hours of the morning, the scrolling stopped.


    ¡°Avery, do you this book? It¡¯s called The Attractor.¡±


    He needed no better reason to get up and snoop. On the screen, the scrolling had stopped. The system was reading a book called The Attractor.


    ¡°Let me check it up online. I can¡¯t really find anything. Here, it was published as The Attractor thirteen years ago. Says here longer than Lord of the Rings by a guy named Alain Villeneuve, nothing more. It is still being offered for sale, no one has purchased it recently.¡±


    Georges got up and began searching frenetically for a memory card in his drawers. ¡°It must be here somewhere.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Remember when I told you deGrasse got me this research grant, well, he gave me a card that day. I looked it up home. There was only a file on it. That was the name of it. A long word file.¡±


    ¡°What did he tell you to do?¡±


    ¡°Upload it into the computer.¡± They both looked at the computer stuck now for minutes on this file. ¡°Obviously it uploaded it by itself.


    They put the file in the computer. ¡°Load it up, let¡¯s see what it says.¡± The dedication on the first page appeared to the shock of both men: To my father Georges Vouvelakis.


    Both men began to scroll the file. Georges typed and indexed his last name, there were hundreds of mentions about him.


    Before both could understand what was happening, one word appeared on the screen.


    Father

 Chapter 197: Return

    November 21, 2072


    The Primal Chip


    Sophie was standing in the large room, in the open forum where nearly a thousand copies of Marylin stood. There was the portal, shimmering.


    ¡°I am Sophie Lapierre, you were told to kill my father by this evil version of yourselves. You will try, fail and greatly regret it. I am here from the future. This will lead to the end of the Multiverse. Your future,¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± growled the creature from the other side of the portal.


    There was shock in the room.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°Attractor,¡± spoke the voice ignoring the copies of Marilyn, ¡°you cannot alter the future, no road changes the future, in this one, we forcefully initiate the merge. A green lightening snapped out and hit one creature. It became black in color.¡± The creature fell to the floor on all four. It was obviously possessed. A second flash went out. Around the city of light, other portals opened.


    ¡°We win.¡±


    Then there was a glitch, a hiccup. But this time, it pushed back against the latest change. The infected Marilyn were being healed back to full health.


    ¡°I had a great master at Multiverse time dynamics. I will heal away your changes.¡±


    Then one Marilyn in the room said, ¡°it arrived.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± spoke the voice from the future.


    ¡°A dream,¡± said Sophie.


    On a screen in the large room above the opening, images began to appear. Pages and pages of the story written in 2020 and read by the computer in 2033 began to scroll. Quickly, its content filled the collective memory.


    ¡°We should discover its ending together,¡± said the young girl. The story scrolled to Tome 2, Chapter 99.

 Chapter 198: Birthday

    November 21, 2072


    Benton Arbor Michigan


    A car drove and parked in front of the small house. The door of the limousine opened and two men helped a very old centenarian walk out. The man was 104 years old. He had the determination of a Multiverse who wanted to grant him one wish.


    Alain walked slowly to the door helped and rang. One of the two men, guiding him also was holding a boxed present.


    ¡°Yes,¡± answered Susan.


    ¡°Is this the house of Susan and Laurent Lapierre?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Are you Mister Villeneuve?¡±


    ¡°Can I come in, I brought a gift for the birthday girl. There is no place or person I would rather be with at the moment.¡±


    Susan knew better and waved the old man in. They knew him and owed him a favor. Once inside, he looked around. He knew this place very well, he saw this doorstep fifty years ago in his dreams as he wrote Marilyn¡¯s feeble attempt at welcoming the girl in the Center. On the mirror were drawings of the little family, there were parents, a little girl and a younger brother.


    The man saw Laurent who got up from the living room to help the man sit. In the back, Susan had inflated several balloons which floated to the ceiling.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    ¡°I see you are both well,¡± said the old man. Laurent knew better than to challenge the old man. ¡°This fills me with joy.¡±


    ¡°We thank you for accepting to change our names in the story,¡± said the father kindly.


    ¡°That is fine. I just wanted to wait after the date of the car accident. You never know. I saw you play Electoral 2072, quite a performance. What does your daughter think of her father being a Senator?¡±


    ¡°She does not care, never watched a game. Horseback riding is her new thing.¡±


    ¡°I have a gift for,¡± he pretended not to know her name as not to appear improper.


    ¡°Sophie,¡± completed Laurent. You can¡¯t even say her name, can¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Sir, I saw that accident vividly many times. Every angle. No, it¡¯s still too difficult for me.¡±


    ¡°Sophie!¡± yelled the father loud enough for someone on the upper floor to hear him. Soon enough the young girl ran down the stairs two at a time, jumping half of them. The old man began to cry. He forced himself to look the other way. She stood there, feet from him but he was unable to look at her as if not to jinx her new found happiness. It was her, in her simple self feet from him.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°This kind man brought you a gift it seems.¡± Laurent took the box from him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want it,¡± said the young rebel.


    The old man, without looking up spoke softly, ¡°I knew you would say that, but this is different. It should remind you of something.¡±


    Sophie opened the box and pulled out a large white plush toy. The dog was wearing a dog tag which read Oscar. Her demeanor changed as she inspected it.


    ¡°I like him, thank you.¡±


    ¡°My own dog was called Oscar, I added that to my story about you.¡± The man needed to get a hold of himself. He finally looked at her.¡°I must go, my time is short and I don¡¯t want to intrude but I have put you down as my heir to my fortune.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡±


    ¡°I know you don¡¯t. But there is no one I trust more.¡±


    Sophie turned to her father, ¡°Mallik can¡¯t touch it, right, it¡¯s just for me, right dad?¡±


    ¡°It is.¡±

 Chapter 199: The Real End

    November 21, 2072


    The healing began. The Multiverse was given a start to the change, in 2033 and moving forward, the computer worked full time trying to avoid this awful future. By 2067, at the eve of the opening of the portal, Marylin had destroyed the primal chip and decentralized herself. She felt in her heart either the Multiverse would grant her this child or it would, like Liam take her billions of years but Attraction would return. There was a future where she lived on that porch.


    Sophie was back, powerless in Command Room of the Electoral Center. She had not willed it. She had just finished reading the touching ending.


    She looked at Laurent¡¯s deformed body. Before she could say anything, there was a first small reset not unlike how the Wolf at the high school dance was healed. There was a click, the body of Laurent changed, on him appeared some mild features and some hair. He had been healed a small amount. One band member vanished from the stage. Next to her, in the room, there were some mild changes. Then, a second click, Laurent was healing.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    On earth, scars began to heal. One by one, the Multiverse reset herself to this better timeline. Marilyn had understood who she could become, how to avoid the future simply by reading the book. She also felt in her heart like Francois was there, somewhere. None of it made sense, that was Attraction. The future was set.


    Events changed.


    One, two and fist things clicked. The Center had no place, the ground, all of it. Then, without a word, Sophie was gone, so was Liam, Emilio and the whole group on mars. The Electoral Center vanished one piece by piece from the surface of the planet. The Apocalypse also returned to the sun.


    The Sixth Attraction was not nullified, they never are. They remain temporal scar tissue linked with a point. Everyone forgot these events. It was her birthday.


    She blew 13 candles and no one except a handful who read the book would know of the sacrifices of the young girl.


    The End