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. Of 467 cholecystectomies (performed between 13. 6. 1990 and 12. 9. 1991) 278 were done by laparoscopy (196 women, 82 men; mean age 53 years). Contraindications to a laparoscopic procedure were acute cholecystitis, severe chronic cholecystitis with adhesions, abnormal clotting and suspected gallbladder carcinoma. In 31 patients (11.1%) the initial laparoscopic cholecystectomy was continued as a conventional cholecystectomy, usually because of unclear conditions in severe chronic cholecystitis. Mean duration of hospital stay was 6.3 days for the laparoscopic procedure compared with 11.5 days for the conventional one. Complications occurred in four patients (in 12 with the conventional method): one occlusion (by clip) of the common bile duct, one bile leak, one bleeding and one pneumothorax, requiring re-operation in three patients. There were no deaths (compared with two in the conventional group). Assuming correct indications, laparoscopic cholecystectomy is a sparing method for the treatment of cholecystolithiasis.

LDSD will get two-thirds of the way to its mark in a balloon and the remainder of the way in a rocket. The balloon is big enough to "fit snugly into Pasadena's Rose Bowl," according to NASA. A fraction of a second after the saucer drops from the balloon at 120,000 feet, a rocket engine will shoot it another 60,000 feet toward outer space. Just getting the device to the point where the rocket takes over means overcoming any number of potential problems. "If we fire that motor and we get data back from it, that is a great day," said LDSD project manager Mark Adler. If all goes as planned, once the LDSD gets to 180,000 feet, a Kevlar tube will inflate around the device—this tube helps create drag to slow it down as it falls, and collects data along the way. At maximum speed, the whole package will travel at four times the speed of sound, and heat up to near 600 degrees Fahrenheit, which is about the temperature a pizza would experience inside a brick oven. In order to withstand that kind of heat, the inflatable device is made from material "similar to the Kevlar we use to build bullet proof vests," Clark says. By the time the parachute opens, the device will have slowed down to Mach 2.5—or about 1,900 miles per hour and more than twice as fast as the speed of sound. It will still be another 45 minutes until the Keiki o ka honua touches down in the Pacific Ocean, where scientists will collect it. The device will be outfitted with four GoPro cameras, plus several other cameras. A livestream of the launch will run on NASA's website. But after more than a week of weather-related delays, NASA is now trying to figure out whether it has the funding to get the project off the ground at all. (Updated after possible launches on June 3, June 5, June 7, June 9, June 11, and June 14 were scrapped due to wind.) NASA plans to test two more saucer-shaped vehicles in Hawaii about a year from now. We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.

Real-world Effectiveness of Sofosbuvir/Velpatasvir for Treatment of Chronic Hepatitis C in British Columbia, Canada: A Population-Based Cohort Study Abstract Background Clinical trials show high efficacy of sofosbuvir/velpatasvir (SOF/VEL), but there are limited data from real-world settings. We aimed to evaluate SOF/VEL effectiveness for all hepatitis C virus (HCV) genotypes (GTs) in British Columbia (BC), Canada. Methods We used the BC Hepatitis Testers Cohort, which includes all HCV cases in the province (19902015) linked to administrative databases, including prescriptions to end of 2018. We measured sustained virologic response (SVR; negative RNA≥10 weeks after treatment end) and identified characteristics associated with non-SVR. Conservatively, we excluded individuals with no assessment for SVR if their last RNA test after treatment initiation was negative (but included if positive). Results Of 2821 eligible participants, most were infected with GT1 (1076, 38.1%) or GT3 (1072, 38.0%), and a minority (278, 9.9%) were treated with RBV. SVR was 94.6% (2670/2821) overall and 94.5% (1017/1076) for GT1, 96.4% (512/531) for GT2, and 93.7% (1004/1072) for GT3. When disaggregated by GT, treatment regimen, and cirrhosis/treatment experience, SVR was lowest (30/40, 75.0%) among treatment-experienced GT3 individuals treated with RBV. Characteristics associated with non-SVR in multivariable analysis included younger age, RBV addition, and being a person with HIV (PWH) or who injects/injected drugs (PWID). When treatment regimen (±RBV) was removed from multivariable model, treatment experience was associated with non-SVR for GT3. Of 151 non-SVR individuals, 56.3% were nonvirological failures (treatment incomplete/no assessment for SVR) and 43.7% were virological failures (nonresponse/relapse). A disproportionately high percentage of non-SVR among PWID was due to nonvirological failure. Conclusions SOF/VEL was highly effective in this real-world population-based cohort. Additional support is required for PWID/PWH to reach SVR. Although clinical trials show high efficacy of SOF/VEL, actual SVR in real-world clinical settings could be lower due to differences in patient populations, resources, and adherence to best practices. However, few large published studies have evaluated SOF/VEL in real-world settings using conservative intention-to-treat (ITT) approaches, and, to the best of our knowledge, none have used a population-based data source (ie, included all treated individuals within a jurisdiction). Conservative analytic approaches do not exclude individuals lost to follow-up and are critical for understanding real-world factors contributing to lack of SVR. Conservative, realworld studies are particularly important to evaluate effectiveness in populations that often experience worse treatment outcomes for biological and/or social reasons, people with cirrhosis, decompensated disease, GT3 infection and/or prior history of HCV treatment, as well as people who inject drugs. Further, there are limited data available from real-world settings on the effectiveness of SOF/VEL against various genotypes, and it is unclear from real-world experience whether the addition of ribavirin (RBV) to SOF/VEL improves SVR. Finally, lack of population-based analyses limits generalizability of study results to all real-world practice within a jurisdiction. Therefore, additional studies are needed to evaluate SOF/VEL effectiveness outside of controlled clinical trial settings to inform decisions at the clinician, programming, and policy levels. In this study, we use a large population-based cohort and a conservative analytic approach to evaluate the effectiveness SOF/VEL±RBV in real-world clinical practice in British Columbia (BC). Setting BC is Canada's third largest province, with a population of almost 5 million in 2018. The province's rate of 48.5 new HCV diagnoses per 100 000 people is 55% higher than the national rate and the second highest in the country. SOF/VEL became available in BC on July 14, 2016. Public coverage of SOF/VEL for certain populations started on April 2017 and was expanded to all HCVpositive individuals on April 2018. SOF/VEL±RBV is prescribed for treatment of all genotypes for 12 weeks. Treatment decisions are made at the clinician's discretion, with decisions guided by Canadian (CASL), American (AASLD), and European (EASL) guidelines. In general, the addition of RBV to SOF/VEL is considered standard of care for decompensated patients, and is also accessible for those with GT3 cirrhosis. Data Sources We used data from the BC Hepatitis Testers Cohort (BC-HTC). Details related to cohort creation and epidemiological characteristics have been reported previously. The BC-HTC inclusion criteria and data sources are also summarized in Supplementary Table 1. In brief, the cohort includes all individuals tested for HCV or HIV or reported as a case of hepatitis B virus (HBV), HCV, HIV, or active tuberculosis in BC between 1990 and 2015. These data are integrated with medical visits, hospitalizations, cancers, prescription drugs, deaths, and BC Centre for Disease Control Public Health Laboratory (BCCDC-PHL) testing data. The data set used for this analysis included prescription and death data updated until the end of 2018 and BCCDC-PHL HCV laboratory tests updated to April 9, 2019. All residents in BC are registered in the publicly funded insurance plan, which acts as a single-payer system and covers services provided by fee-for-service practitioners. HCV screening and RNA testing for the entire province are performed at BCCDC-PHL, except for <5% of screening tests performed at a regional laboratory that sends positive tests to BCCDC-PHL for confirmation and HCV RNA testing. All dispensed prescriptions in the province, including HCV treatments, are recorded in a central system called PharmaNet. Study Population and Treatment In this analysis, we included HCV-positive individuals who were in the cohort as of the end of 2015. HCV-positive individuals were defined as those who had tested positive for HCV antibodies, had undergone HCV RNA or genotype testing, or were reported as a case of HCV to public health. Our data sets included data on SOF/VEL treatment through December 31, 2018, and HCV RNA testing data through April 9, 2019. To allow for adequate follow-up time (at least 12 weeks to assess treatment completion and 12 weeks to assess SVR), we excluded individuals initiating SOF/VEL after October 9, 2018. Modified Intention-to-Treat Analysis and SVR Definition Achievement of SVR was defined as any record of a negative (below the lower limit of detection) HCV RNA ≥10 weeks after treatment end. As in other studies, a 10-week time period, instead of 12 weeks, was chosen to account for variability in testing in clinical practice. Of individuals with an RNA test at week 10 or later in our data, only 1.9% (52/2750) were tested at weeks 10-11 and not ≥12 weeks. Our modified ITT approach and non-SVR definition were conservative, similar to others. We excluded those with no RNA test after treatment initiation or a negative RNA test on their last test (either while on treatment or after treatment end) but no assessment for SVR (ie, no RNA test ≥10 weeks after treatment end). Participants included in the analysis were categorized as not achieving SVR (non-SVR) if they had any detectable HCV RNA after the end of treatment, a positive RNA test during treatment and no viral load test after the end of treatment, or a detectable HCV RNA on their last HCV viral load test (either while on treatment or within 10 weeks of the treatment end). Therefore, individuals with no assessment for SVR were excluded if their last RNA test was negative, but included if the RNA test was positive. Plasma HCV RNA levels were determined using the Abbott RealTime HCV assay (Abbott Molecular Inc., Mississauga, ON, Canada), with a lower limit of detection for HCV RNA of 12 IU/mL. Non-SVR Categories We assessed the most likely reason for non-SVR using 5 hierarchical, mutually exclusive categories. A completed treatment course was defined as ≥12 weeks of treatment, and SVR assessment was defined as a positive/negative RNA test ≥10 weeks after treatment end. The categories were defined as follows: A) Nonvirological failures (criteria: treatment incomplete and/ or no assessment for SVR, and received a positive RNA test after treatment initiation). 1. Incomplete treatment (for reasons other than death): Individuals who did not complete treatment and did not die within 12 weeks of treatment initiation. 2. Death prevented treatment completion/SVR assessment: Individuals who did not receive SVR assessment and died either during treatment or within 14 weeks after treatment end. 3. Lost to follow-up (LTFU; for reasons other than death): Individuals who completed treatment, did not receive SVR assessment, and did not die either during treatment or within 14 weeks after treatment end. B) Virological failures (criteria: completed treatment and received a positive RNA test ≥10 weeks after treatment end). 4. Relapse: Individuals who received a negative RNA test either during or after treatment (but before 10 weeks after treatment end). 5. Nonresponse: Individuals who did not receive a negative RNA test either during or after treatment. Assessment of Covariates Demographic characteristics included sex, age, birth cohort, and social and material deprivation quintiles. Assessment of diabetes, history of injecting drugs, major mental illness, cirrhosis, decompensated cirrhosis, and problematic alcohol use were based on algorithms derived from medical visits, hospitalization, or prescription dispensation data using fee-forservice, procedure, and/or diagnostic codes (Supplementary Table 2). Analysis We computed SVR overall and by GT and compared the proportion achieving SVR across a range of participant characteristics. We performed multivariable logistic regression analyses to identify predictors of non-SVR. All analyses were conducted in SAS/STAT, version 9.4, and all tests were 2-sided at a significance level of.05. This study was approved by the University of British Columbia Research Ethics Board (H14-01649). RESULTS Overall, 3911 unique HCV-positive individuals initiated SOF/VEL±RBV treatment on or before December 31, 2018 ( Figure 1). Of 3442 with adequate follow-up time (initiated treatment on or before October 9, 2018), a total of 621 (18.0%) were excluded. Differences between included and excluded individuals are shown in Supplementary Table 3. Of note, excluded individuals (particularly those with a negative RNA test) were more likely to be PWID. In sensitivity analyses, inclusion of the 293 excluded individuals with a negative RNA test but no SVR assessment increased the SVR rate (if assumed to have achieved SVR) from 94.6% to 95.2% overall and from 91.6% to 93.5% among PWID-who are disproportionately represented among this excluded population. Of note, 98.6% of the 293 excluded individuals had completed ≥12 weeks of treatment, and the median (interquartile range ) time from treatment initiation to negative RNA test was 15 weeks. Predictors of Non-SVR Characteristics associated with non-SVR in multivariable models are shown in In GT1-and GT3-specific models, factors associated with non-SVR included history of injecting drugs (GT1, GT3), HIV co-infection (GT1), and treatment with RBV (GT3). GT, cirrhosis, and HCV treatment experience were not associated with non-SVR in any model. In sensitivity analyses, model results were largely unchanged when the treatment regimen variable (SOF/VEL+RBV vs SOF/ VEL alone) was removed from the models (data not shown), with 1 exception. After removal of treatment regimen from the GT3 model, treatment experience was associated with non-SVR (vs treatment-nave; aOR, 2.03; 95% CI, 1.06-3.89). Further, an interaction term between treatment regimen and HCV treatment experience was significant in the full and GT3specific models (data not shown). The interaction showed that SOF/VEL+RBV (vs SOF/VEL alone) was associated with non-SVR in treatment-experienced individuals (aOR, 11.5; 95% CI, 3.2-41.6; full model) but not treatment-nave individuals (aOR, 1.9; 95% CI, 0.8-4.2; full model). In an additional sensitivity analysis, the model results were also largely unchanged when the 293 excluded individuals (negative RNA test posttreatment initiation but no SVR assessment) were included and assumed to have achieved SVR (data not shown). Tables 5 and 6. Of note, people who inject/injected drugs (PWID) composed 35.0% of the SVR population but 57.0% of non-SVR cases (63.5% of nonvirological failures and 48.5% of virological failures; 62.8% of non-SVR among PWID was due to nonvirological failure). DISCUSSION In this real-world population-based analysis of ~2800 individuals treated with SOF/VEL±RBV who were mostly infected with GT1 or GT3, SVR rates were high and ranged from 93.7% for GT3 to 96.4% for GT2. In comparison, SVR12 rates in a pooled meta-analysis of 6 clinical trials ranged from 94.7% for GT3 to 99.4% for GT2. Although the overall SVR rate in our study was lower for GT3-infected individuals, there was no statistically significant association between GT3 and non-SVR in multivariable analysis. Our results are similar to the small number of large studies evaluating SOF/VEL effectiveness in real-world settings. In the largest real-world analysis published to date, Belperio et al. evaluated SOF/VEL±RBV among ~4500 individuals with GT2 or GT3 infection in the US Department of Veterans Affairs registry. Similar to our study, effectiveness ranged from 90.7% for GT3 to 93.9% for GT2. In another large but unpublished study of 12 clinical practice cohorts across 8 countries in North America and Europe (n = 4491), the overall SVR was 92.7%. In contrast, SVR was higher (98.5%) in a study of 1319 patients from treatment centers in Italy. Seven other published real-world studies have evaluated SOF/VEL, but most were small, with a combined sample size of <1000. Comparisons to other real-world studies should be made with caution. "Real-world" is a broad term for describing studies conducted outside of a clinical trial setting, yet there are important differences between studies. Some are not population-based but instead limited to specific treatment centers, registries, or patient populations. Further, some studies use less conservative analytic approaches in which most/all individuals lacking SVR assessment are excluded. For example, the Belperio et al. study was limited to patients receiving medical care through the Veterans Health Administration and excluded GT1-infected patients ; the combined North America/ Europe analysis excluded individuals with decompensated cirrhosis, previous DAA failure, and RBV added to their regimen ; and the Italian study enrolled patients from treatment centers where closer monitoring was provided and excluded those with previous NS5A inhibitor therapy. In comparison with all 3 of these large studies, our analysis was population-based and thus potentially more generalizable to the real-world clinical setting. Given our more real-world setting and conservative approach, it is reassuring that our SVR rates were similarly high as those observed in other studies. Our conservative analytic approach allowed for greater insight into underlying reasons for actual or potential non-SVR. Just over half of non-SVR cases were nonvirological failures, and about 80% of these lacked SVR assessment and were assumed non-SVR. These individuals would be excluded from per-protocol (PP) analyses. Most non-SVR individuals were categorized as LTFU (treatment completed, last RNA test after treatment initiation was positive, no assessment for SVR). It is reasonable to assume that many of these individuals did not reach SVR, given the positive RNA test and that factors contributing to their loss to follow-up may have also impeded adherence to daily medication (eg, housing instability, substance use, mental health issues). Even for those who did attain SVR, these individuals are still important to characterize, as they may be at higher risk of re-infection due to challenges in remaining connected to the health care system and potentially receiving support to prevent re-infection. Our nonvirological failure rate was lower than the combined analysis of 12 cohorts in North America/Europe, where 80% of non-SVR cases were nonvirological. This may be partly due to their use of SVR12/24 rather than SVR10. PWID and people with HIV (PWH) had lower SVR after adjustment for other factors. Notably, however, SVR rates for PWID and PWH were higher than 92% for GT2 and GT3 but lower (89% and 84%, respectively) for GT1. Clinical trials have also demonstrated high SVR rates (≥94%) for SOF/VEL among PWID and PWH. However, similar to our analysis and other analyses conducted by our team, the large Italian SOF/VEL real-world study found PWID to be associated with non-SVR. Increased odds of non-SVR among PWID and PWH are likely due to social rather than biological factors. Indeed, a particularly high percentage of non-SVR among PWID was due to nonvirological vs virological failure, similar to our previous analyses of other HCV treatments. Of note, our analysis likely underestimates the true SVR rate among PWID, as some of these nonvirological failures may have achieved SVR, and PWID were also overly represented among excluded individuals who had a negative RNA test post-treatment initiation but no SVR assessment. Our findings should not be interpreted as a reason to withhold treatment from these populations, but rather a reminder that optimal scale-up to reach HCV elimination among PWID and PWH will need to be done with additional support measures to prevent LTFU and achieve SVR. Our study found RBV to be associated with non-SVR among GT3-infected individuals. These findings are similar to other real-world observational SOF/VEL studies suggesting little to no overall benefit with the addition of RBV but seemingly contradict results from clinical trials. The lower SVR among RBV-treated individuals in our study was particularly noticeable for GT3-infected individuals with treatment experience (75% achieved SVR). The contrasting findings between real-world studies and clinical trials may be due to a number of factors, including different patient populations, study designs, and analytic approaches (PP vs ITT). In particular, evaluation of RBV is limited by the observational nature of real-world studies such as ours (eg, RBV is more likely to be prescribed to individuals who are already less likely to achieve SVR), particularly when important confounding variables (cirrhosis, resistance-associated substitutions) may be underidentified due to reliance on administrative data. For example, in our analysis, 80% of RBV-treated individuals had no evidence of cirrhosis (Supplementary Table 4), a key indication for RBV in BC. This finding is more likely to be due to underidentification of cirrhosis (due to reliance on diagnostic codes and lack of fibrosis assessment data) rather than inappropriate prescribing of RBV. As a result, residual confounding by indication may explain the lower SVR with RBV. Further research is needed to better understand the underlying reasons for non-SVR among RBVtreated individuals and the utility of adding this medication in the real world. GT3 infection, treatment experience, and cirrhosis were not associated with non-SVR in our full multivariable model. In contrast, the large real-world Belperio et al. study found decompensated cirrhosis, FIB-4 >3.25, and treatment experience to be associated with reduced odds of SVR among GT3 patients treated with SOF/VEL or daclatasvir/SOF. Another realworld SOF/VEL study found lower SVR among GT3-infected individuals previously treated with SOF-based regimens. Our ability to detect a difference may have been limited by the small sample size of some of these populations, which, as already discussed, may be an artifact of our data source. Notably, treatment experience was associated with non-SVR in our full and GT3-specific multivariable models when the treatment regimen variable (SOF/VEL+RBV vs SOF/VEL alone) was removed. Our study has some limitations. Although our analysis was population-based for individuals in BC diagnosed with HCV through the end of 2015 and dispensed SOF/VEL from 2016 to 2018, it did not include individuals who were newly tested and diagnosed from 2016 to 2018. We estimate that about 2000 individuals were newly diagnosed with HCV in this 3-year time frame, but that most would not have received treatment with SOF/VEL by the end of 2018. Our data did not contain any information on clinical fibrosis stage; previous HCV treatments received outside of BC; resistance-associated substitutions; underlying reasons for treatment discontinuation (eg, side effects), LTFU, or RNA testing; or adherence to daily pill-taking among those dispensed a full treatment course. As a result of the latter, we could not estimate the proportion of nonresponse due to suboptimal adherence. Furthermore, we are also not able to tease apart relapse from re-infection, which requires genome sequencing. As most of our variables were based on administrative data, misclassification/underascertainment may have led to residual confounding in regression analyses. Treatment decisions in BC are made at the clinician's discretion and may differ from other settings, where norms are different, limiting the generalizability of our findings to other jurisdictions (eg, differences in RBV use and GTs). Finally, although ITT and PP are terms commonly used in real-world observational studies, they were originally intended for describing randomized controlled trials. As such, it is important to emphasize that our analysis was observational, and thus confounding could not be completely addressed. In conclusion, our conservative population-based analysis of SOF/VEL showed high effectiveness in real-world clinical practice in the Canadian province of BC. Our results suggest room for further improvement in supporting individuals to obtain SVR and prevent LTFU, particularly among PWID and PWH. The high proportion of non-SVR due to nonvirological failure demonstrates the importance of a conservative analytic approach when conducting real-world studies.

Morphogenesis in Synthetic Chemical Cells. We present an efficient model for describing morphogenesis and the emergence of spatiotemporal structures in synthetic chemical cells. This work is motivated by an experimental setup used for testing Turing's theory of morphogenesis. The model developed is based on the general theory of chemically active droplets, which combines the classical theory of phase separation with reaction-diffusion systems. Through the 2D calculations, we find the six spatiotemporal structures predicted by Turing in 1952 and experimentally observed, in a 1D array of droplets. Moreover, under Turing instability, with a determined chemical wavelength, the system undergoes morphogenesis. This theoretical approach provides a useful tool for understanding the physical differentiation through the direct calculation of the osmotic pressure in each cell as the chemical reaction occurs.

Prime Minister Imran Khan says Pakistan would retaliate if India were to attack in response to a bombing in the disputed Kashmir region, which India blamed on Pakistan, while adding he wants to co-operate in investigating the blast. Prime Minister Imran Khan said on Tuesday Pakistan would retaliate if India were to attack in response to a bombing in the disputed Kashmir region, which India blamed on Pakistan, while adding he wanted to co-operate in investigating the blast. Tension between the nuclear-armed neighbours has risen sharply over the killing in the Indian-controlled part of Kashmir on Thursday of 40 Indian paramilitary police in a suicide bomb attack claimed by the Pakistan-based Jaish-e-Mohammad militant group. Pakistan has denied any involvement and on Tuesday called for UN intervention. But Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, facing a general election by May, has come under pressure to exact revenge, and has said he's given his security forces a free hand to administer a "crushing response." In a televised address to the nation, Khan noted the calls in India for revenge and said he hoped "better sense will prevail. "If you think that you will launch any kind of attack on Pakistan, Pakistan will not just think about retaliation, Pakistan will retaliate," Khan said. "And after that where will it head?" The South Asian neighbours have fought three wars since 1947, two of them over Kashmir, a territory both countries claim in full but rule in part. While they have not fought a full-scale war since they both tested nuclear weapons in 1998, they have fought countless skirmishes along their de facto border in the mountains of Kashmir. Khan reiterated that Pakistan had nothing to do with the bomb attack and said it was ready to take action against anyone found to be behind it. "If you have any actionable intelligence that Pakistanis are involved, give that to us, I guarantee you that we will take action," Khan said. Pakistan's military has a long record of nurturing militants as proxies in pursuit of foreign-policy objectives. India has for years accused it of supporting separatist militants fighting a nearly 30-year revolt in its only Muslim-majority state. Muslim Pakistan has long said it only provides moral and diplomatic support to the Kashmiri people in their struggle for self-determination, though that has never dispelled India's conviction of Pakistani support for militants. India's top military commander in Kashmir told mothers to get their militant sons to surrender or see them dead, as security forces intensified a crackdown in response to the deadliest attack on security forces in three decades of insurgency in the Muslim-majority region. Lt.-Gen. K.J.S. Dhillon accused Pakistan's main Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) spy agency of "controlling" those behind the Thursday bombing and warned of retribution. "I would request all the mothers in Kashmir to please request their sons who have joined terrorism to surrender and get back to the mainstream," Dhillon told reporters in Srinagar, the summer capital of Jammu and Kashmir state. "Otherwise anyone who has picked up the gun will be killed." The bomb attack was carried out by a 20-year-old man from a village in Indian Kashmir. His parents said he had joined a militant group after being beaten by Indian troops three years ago. Dhillon did not provide any proof for his accusation that Pakistan's military intelligence agency was behind the blast, only pointing to what he said were its close links with the Jaish. The bomb attack has sparked outrage in India with calls for revenge circulating on social media, and rising animosity towards Kashmiri Muslims in other parts of the Hindu-majority country, to the alarm of rights groups. Earlier on Tuesday, Pakistan appealed to the United Nations to intervene, in light of deteriorating security. "It is with a sense of urgency that I draw your attention to the deteriorating security situation in our region resulting from the threat of use of force against Pakistan by India," Pakistani Foreign Minister Shah Mahmood Qureshi wrote to UN Secretary General Antonio Guterres. "It is imperative to take steps for de-escalation. The United Nations must step in to defuse tensions," he wrote, blaming India for deliberately ratcheting up its hostile rhetoric for domestic political reasons. At the same time, Pakistan has a vital role to play in nudging the Afghan Taliban towards peace in Afghanistan in talks with U.S. officials that have raised significant hopes for an end to America's longest war. Pakistan's ambassador to Afghanistan said an Indian attack on his country would undermine the Afghan peace effort. "Any attack by India will be affect the stability of the entire region and impact the momentum," the ambassador, Zahid Nasrullah, told reporters in the Afghan capital. Pakistan's close ally China urged it and India to ease tension through talks. "China hopes that Pakistan and India can exercise restraint and hold dialog, to achieve a ΓÇÿsoft landingΓÇÖ as soon as possible," said China's foreign ministry spokesperson. Jammu and Kashmir, a former princely state on the border between India and Pakistan, has been in dispute since the partition of India in 1947. Control is split between the two countries but each claims the region in full.

This invention relates to a heating apparatus, particularly to a thermal imaging system employed in a crystal growing system which comprises an ellipsoidal reflecting mirror provided with two foci, and a heat source whereby a substance to be heated may be disposed on a line connecting these two foci to heat the substance by a concentrated infrared radiation from the heat source. Such infrared radiation heating devices are utilized for the crystallization of various materials, such as refractory oxides by melting a material feed rod by using techniques based on either the floating zone principle or the pedestal principle, as disclosed, for example, in U.S. Pat. Nos. 3,761,677 and 3,817,710 or in IEEE Transactions on Magnetics, Vol. MAG-5, No. 3, September 1969, pages 285-289 or in NEC Research & Development No. 33, April 1974, pages 86-92, and Journal of Crystal Growth 39 (1977), pages 211-215. These U.S. Patents and literature show systems for growing single crystals by the floating zone method. In U.S. Pat. No. 3,761,677, the radiant energy is supplied by a pair of halogen lamps, whereas U.S. Pat. No. 3,817,710 and the literature show the use of a single lamp such as a halogen lamp or a xenon lamp for producing the radiant energy. For example, in a conventional heating apparatus using a single heat source the structure of the apparatus is simplified as shown in FIG. 1, in which the center of a xenon arc lamp or of a halogen lamp 1 forming the heat source is positioned at a first focus F1 of an ellipsoidal or prolate spherical reflecting mirror 2. A central junction between a substance 3 of a seed crystal and a polycrystalline material feed rod 5 to be heated, is positioned at a second focus F2 of the ellipsoidal or prolate spherical reflecting mirror 2, so that the radiated energy of the lamp 1 is concentrated at the second focus F2. Thus, the junction between the seed crystal and the material feed rod is partially heated to a high temperature to form a molten zone 4. In this case the heated substance at the second focus F2 is rotated at a fixed r.p.m. rate about an axis Y extending perpendicularly to a major axis X. In addition the substance is moved up or down in the direction of the axis Y at a very slow fixed rate. When a high power xenon arc discharge lamp is used instead of the halogen lamp as a heat source 1 for the crystallization at high melting temperatures near 3000.degree. C., the concentration of radiation from the xenon lamp becomes too sharp due to the spot-like small heat source of the xenon lamp as compared to the halogen lamp. Such sharp concentration of the radiant energy produces a thermal image having a temperature distribution in the horizontal direction so that the maximum point is at the second focus F2 and the peaked portion decreases steeply in the vicinity of the second focus F2, as shown in a temperature distribution curve To of FIG. 3. Besides, although the heating apparatus must be so constructed that the vertical rotating axis Y of the heated substance 3 is positioned correctly at the second focus F2, it is somewhat difficult practically to let the rotating axis Y coincide with a center axis of a molten zone 4 in the junction of the seed crystal 6 and the polycrystalline feed rod 5 supported by upper and lower holding shafts, because the molten zone 4 in the vicinity of the second focus F2 is viscous due to the melting, whereby the center line of the rotating molten zone 4 tends to deviate from the axis Y. Therefore, a further distant side of the substance 3 from the second focus F2 in the horizontal direction is heated less, while the other opposite side of the substance 3 is strongly heated. As shown in FIG. 2(a), according to the invention it is desired to have a boundary line of the molten zone 4 which extends in parallel to the axis X for uniform heating. However, as shown in FIG. 2(b) on an enlarged scale relative to FIG. 1, the boundary lines between the molten zone 4 and the solid state portions of the polycrystalline feed rod 5 and the crystal seed 6 become inclined against the axis X in the conventional apparatus. Thus, prior art devices do not provide the desirable state as shown in FIG. 2(a). The facts shown in FIG. 2(b) cause an undesirable crystal growth. Moreover, when some parts along the circumference between the polycrystalline feed rod 5 and the molten zone 4 are left unmelted, the continuation of the single crystal growth cannot be maintained.

Hillary Clinton gestures while speaking at a campaign event during the American Legion National Convention at the Duke Energy Convention Center in Cincinnati on Wednesday. (Ty Wright/Bloomberg News) HILLARY CLINTON made one of the most consequential announcements of her campaign on Monday — and hardly anyone is talking about it. The Democratic presidential nominee released a wide-ranging mental-health strategy — and, unlike much of what she has proposed this election season, it has a real chance of becoming law. Congress has over the past several years put serious effort into reforming the federal government’s mental-health efforts, producing — but not yet passing — a slew of bills with bipartisan backing. This is one of the few issues on which lawmakers may be able to agree, even in a severely divided Washington, over the coming months. The House, in fact, has already passed a bill. Ideally, the Senate would pass its own reform before next year. But, if lawmakers fail to send a bill to President Obama — always a high likelihood given Congress’s slow pace — the next president should enter the policy debate, pressing for lawmakers to finally pass something. In the process, the next president would undoubtedly leave an imprint. Good thing, then, that Ms. Clinton and the lawmakers most seriously working on these issues agree on many worthwhile things. First and foremost is treating mental health with the same priority as physical health. That means removing old payment systems that shortchanged mental-health care and using the federal government’s role as a major payer in the health industry to encourage integrating mental-health care into medical practices. The big-ticket item in Ms. Clinton’s plan is $5 billion for community health centers providing substance abuse and mental-health treatment as well as traditional medical care, which jibes with elements of reform initiatives emerging from Congress. To address a shortage of mental-health professionals, meanwhile, she would smartly encourage telemedicine, among other things. Ms. Clinton also proposed pumping up the budget for basic scientific research, some of which would be diverted into studying the brain. Aside and apart from the debate over mental health, Democrats and Republicans have often been able to agree on funding basic research such as this. This is not to say that all sides are in perfect agreement. A major hurdle to passing any mental-health reform law is the inevitable disagreement over where the funding for it would come from. Ms. Clinton has also ducked some of the most controversial issues. Some on Capitol Hill want to encourage so-called assisted outpatient treatment, which requires seriously mentally ill people to get care. Ms. Clinton should have embraced the idea. Without programs such as these, all of that money funding community health centers will do less good, because the centers will serve fewer people — and not necessarily those most in need. Ms. Clinton also said nothing about loosening medical records laws, giving family members more information so they can assist relatives with mental illness. This is another good idea, if done with care. So is requiring that federal mental-health grants come with requirements that funded programs demonstrate success, another reform on which Ms. Clinton punted. 1 of 57 Full Screen Autoplay Close Skip Ad × Hillary Clinton’s campaign comes to an end View Photos Hillary Clinton loses to Donald Trump in the 2016 presidential election. Caption Hillary Clinton loses to Donald Trump in the 2016 presidential election. Nov. 9, 2016 Hillary Clinton speaks in New York while her husband, former president Bill Clinton, applauds. Melina Mara/The Washington Post Buy Photo Wait 1 second to continue. Still, Ms. Clinton’s focus on the issue is warranted and welcome. If she becomes president, it might do some real-world good.

Investigating the Semantic Similarities across Physician and Nurse Handoff Communication In this paper, we report on an exploratory investigation of the semantic similarities between physician and nurse handoff communication in clinical settings. Based on our analysis of verbal handoffs of residents and nurses (265 patient handoffs each; total 530) using natural language processing techniques, we found that there are inherent similarities in the nature of content that is exchanged within these disciplinary handoffs. However, the consistency of the clinical content across all handoffs and their order of presentation were less predictable. We briefly discuss the potential implications of our results that can inform evidence-based guidelines for the design of an interdisciplinary handoff framework.

Noninvasive continuous monitoring of the effects of head position on brain hemodynamics in ventilated infants. HYPOTHESIS Laying supine with the head in midline position improves cerebral venous return by preventing functional occlusion of the vessels of the neck. OBJECTIVES To assess changes in cerebral blood volume (DeltaCBV) and cerebral blood flow (CBF) with the position of the head in ventilated patients using a noninvasive method. The influence of the type of ventilation and birth weight was evaluated. METHODS Thirteen conventionally ventilated and 8 high-frequency oscillatory ventilated infants, with mean gestational ages and birth weights of 31 +/- 5 weeks (24--38) and 1575 +/- 803 g (560--3000), respectively, were studied 5.8 +/- 7.8 days (1--33) after birth. DeltaCBV (mL/100 g) and CBF (mL/100 g/min) were measured by near-infrared spectroscopy with the head in supine midline position (DeltaCBVs, CBFs) and rotated 90 to one side (DeltaCBVlat, CBFlat). Heart rate, peripheral saturation, transcutaneous PCO, and blood pressure were monitored continuously. Ventilatory settings remained constant throughout the study period. RESULTS Mean DeltaCBVs was lower than mean DeltaCBVlat, although no changes in blood pressure, transcutaneous PCO, oxygenation, or heart rate occurred. This change in DeltaCBV was not associated with the type of ventilation or birth weight, but the differences tended to be greater (dDeltaCBV = DeltaCBVlat-DeltaCBVs) in the smallest infants (<1200 g). In contrast, CBF did not vary. CONCLUSION The supine midline position of the head favors cerebral venous drainage and helps to prevent elevation of CBV. SPECULATION This finding may be important in the first days of life, particularly in tiny preterm infants recovering from lung disease with improving lung compliance, in which functional obstruction of cerebral venous drainage should be avoided.

Double projection algorithms for solving the split feasibility problems We propose two new double projection algorithms for solving the split feasibility problem (SFP). Different from the extragradient projection algorithms, the proposed algorithms do not require fixed stepsize and do not employ the same projection region at different projection steps. We adopt flexible rules for selecting the stepsize and the projection region. The proposed algorithms are shown to be convergent under certain assumptions. Numerical experiments show that the proposed methods appear to be more efficient than the relaxed- CQ algorithm. 1. Introduction. The convex feasibility problem(CFP), as an optimization problem, is to find a point x * such that where m ≥ 1 is an integer, and C i, i = 1, 2,, m are nonempty closed convex sets of N. Split feasibility problem (SFP) is the special case of CFP, it is to find a point x * satisfying x * ∈ C, Ax * ∈ Q, where C and Q are nonempty convex sets of N and M, respectively, and A is an M by N real matrix. SFP has broad applications in many fields such as approximation theory, image reconstruction, and so on, which was firstly introduced in Censor and Elfving. The general algorithm is the projection method. Let P C denote the orthogonal projection onto C; that is, P C (x) = arg min y∈C x − y, over DOUBLE PROJECTION ALGORITHMS 2025 Definition 2.1. Let f : N → be convex. The subdifferential of f at x is defined as ∂f (x) = { ∈ N | f (y) ≥ f (x) +, y − x, ∀ y ∈ N }. An element of ∂f (x) is said to be a subgradient. Lemma 2.2. Suppose that f : N → is convex. Then its subdifferential are uniformly bounded on any bounded subsets of N. Definition 2.3. Given T : N → N, a) T is said to be monotone if c) T is said to be co-coercive on N with modulus > 0, if Let P C (x) be the projection of x on C. Lemma 2.4. Let C be a nonempty closed convex subset in N. Then for any x, y ∈ N and z ∈ C, Remark 1. From part of Lemma 2.4, we know that P C is a monotone, cocoercive with modulus 1 and nonexpansive operator. Moreover, the operator I −P C is also co-coercive with modulus 1. 3. A double projection algorithm and its convergence. As in, the following conditions are supposed to be satisfied: (H1) The set C is defined as The set Q is defined as where q : M → is convex and Q is nonempty. (H2) For any x ∈ N and y ∈ M, a subgradient ∈ ∂c(x) and a subgradient ∈ ∂q(y) can be calculated. We define the following halfspaces at point x k, respectively, where k ∈ ∂c(x k ), and Obviously, by the definition of subgradient, we know that the orthogonal projections onto C k and Q k may be computed directly by reason of the specific forms of C k and Q k, see. In the following, for every k, we define the function F k : N → N as and respectively define By Lemma 8.1 in, the operator F k is 1/(A T A)-inverse strongly monotone or co-coercive with modulus 1/(A T A) and Lipschitz continuous with (A T A), where (A T A) is the largest eigenvalue of the matrix A T A. Now, we describe our first double projection algorithm. Step 1. Find y k = P C k (x k − k F k (x k )), where k = l m k and m k is the smallest nonnegative integer such that Step 2. Compute Set k = k + 1 and go to Step 1. In fact, is well defined, we can see that from following lemma. Proof. By of Lemma 2.4, we have By the inequality a, b ≤ a 2 2 + b 2 2 and the nonexpansiveness of F k, we get where (A T A) is the largest eigenvalue of the matrix A T A. Obviously, there must exist a constant m such that 1 the proof is completed. Proof. Obviously, from we know that k ≤ for all k = 0, 1,, we only need to show. From the search rule, we know that k /l must violate inequality, i.e., Then, from and, we get This completes the proof. Proof. From and, one has Obviously, for z ∈, F k (z) = 0. Since F k is monotonic and z ∈, we have Combining with, we obtain the result. From the monotonicity of F k, we know that along with, we obtain that the hyperplane separates the current point from the set. Remark 3. Lemma 3.3 gives us the reason why we use −F k (y k ) as the iterative direction at Step 2 to obtain the next iteration. In fact, iterate along this direction makes the iteration to become nearer to the solution point as seen from the proof of the following theorem.. Pick z ∈, we divide the rest of the proof into three steps. Step 1. We show that {x k } is bounded. Since and Az = P Q (Az) = P Q k (Az), hence, z ∈ C k and F k (z) = 0 for all k = 0, 1, 2,. Using of Lemma 2.4 and, we have From, we get By, we know that for all k, which shows that the sequence {x k } is bounded. Step 2. We claim that lim Clearly, In fact, by the boundedness of {x k } and the continuity of F k, we know that {F k (x k )} is also bounded. Thus, from, there exists a constant M > 0 such that F k (y k ) ≤ M for all k. Consequently, we obtain from and the definition of t k that lim Moreover, by of Lemma 2.4 and Cauchy-Schwartz inequality, we have Thus, we get the result. Step 3. We will show that x k →x ∈. Assume thatx is an accumulation point of {x k } and x ki →x, where {x ki } ∞ i=1 is a subsequence of {x k }. We are ready to show thatx is a solution of the SFP. From the above inequality and of Lemma 2.4, we know for all and {x ki } is bounded, the sequence {F ki (x ki )} is also bounded. Therefore, from and we get lim Since Letting k i → ∞, taking into account Lemma 2.2 and, we deduce that Therefore,x is a solution of the SFP. Thus, we may usex in place of z in and obtain that { x k −x } is convergent. Since there is a subsequence { x ki −x } converging to 0, we have x k →x as k → ∞. This completes the proof. 4. A modified double projection algorithm and its convergence. In this section, we present a modification of Algorithm 3.1 that is more efficient by computational experience. Step 1. Find y k = P C k (x k − k F k (x k )), where k = l m k and m k is the smallest nonnegative integer such that Set k = k + 1 and go to Step 1. Proof. The proof of Theorem 4.1 is similar to the proof for Theorem 3.4, so we provide only a sketch. Select z ∈, Therefore, From and the monotonicity of F k, we know that Hence The rest of the convergence proof is identical to that of Theorem 3.4. Remark 4. The main difference between Algorithm 3.1 and Algorithm 4.1 is the projection region in the second projection step. Algorithm 3.1 selects projection on the current projection region C k, while Algorithm 4.1 selects projection on the section C k H k (regress projection region) which guarantees that the next iterate is more closer to the solution set. On the other hand, in theory, comparing and, we can see that the iterative sequence generated by Algorithm 4.1 is closer to the solution set than the iterative sequence generated by Algorithm 3.1 for the term x k+1 − z k 2 in at each iterate. These are just the aim of our selection projection on the section C k H k in Algorithm 4.1. 5. Numerical results. In this section, we will test two numerical examples (Example 5.1 is selected from ) to show our algorithms converge faster than the algorithm in (we denote it by CQ-Algorithm). Throughout the computational experiments, we set = 10 −4 as the stop criterion. In the algorithms, we take = 20, = 10, l = 0.01 in Algorithm 3.1 and Algorithm 4.1. All codes are written in MATLAB7.0. To ensure the existence of the solution of the problem, the vector b is generated by using the following way: Given a random N −dimensional negative vector (each component is negative) z ∈ C, r = z, taking b = Az. Find x ∈ C with Ax ∈ Q. We take e 0 = (0, 0,, 0) as the initial point in this example. The numerical results of Examples 5.1-5.2 can be seen from Tables 1 and 2. In these tables, "k"," s" and "x * " denote the number of iterations, cpu time in seconds and the solution, respectively. Table 1 gives the numerical results of Example 5.1 with the CQ-Algorithm, Algorithm 3.1, and Algorithm 4.2, respectively, for the case t k = 1. Table 2 shows the numerical results of Example 5.2 with the same algorithms, respectively, for different t k. From Tables 1 and 2, we can see that our algorithms are effective and they converge more quickly than the CQ Algorithm and Algorithm 4.1 converges more quickly than Algorithm 3.1. 6. Some concluding remarks. This paper presents two double projection methods with different rules of stepsize selection for solving SFP. The first projection step, different from the self-adaptive projection methods proposed by Zhang et al using the co-coercivity and presented by Qu et al using the Lipschitz continuity property of the gradient mappings F and F k, employs a new liner-search rule, which assures the hyperplane H k separate the current x k and the solution set. The second projection step of Algorithm 3.1 uses the parameters t k and k to decide the stepsize under current projection region; the second projection step of Algorithm 4.1 modifies the projection region which results in good convergence. Preliminary numerical results show that our methods are practical and promising for solving SFP.

DOBSON Shane Francis At home on Saturday 3rd November 2018 of Trail Street Wagga Wagga. Beloved husband of Geri. Dearly loved father and father-in-law of Bernard & Gabby, Katherine & Luke, Stephen and Sarah & James. Loving 'Poppy' of Jurrah, Iluka, Umbarra, Kiah, Frankie and Ollie. Loved brother of Harold, Bernard, Josephine and Elizabeth. Aged 70 years. A Service to Celebrate Shane's life will be held Monday 12th November 2018 in the Wagga Wagga Lawn Cemetery Chapel, Brunskill Rd, Lake Albert commencing at 10:00am, followed by interment in The Lawn Cemetery. Relatives and friends are respectfully invited to attend. In lieu of flowers, donations on behalf of Riverina Cancer Care, will be accepted at The Chapel. "My deepest sympathies. A great man has passed. I have fond..." "Shane was very much part of our Monaghan family story from..."

As Brassica, a new social dining concept, is about to open in Dundee’s old city arcades, Caroline Lindsay finds out what’s different about it and what it will bring to the city’s new waterfront development. Sweaty palms? Trembling hands? Stumbling over your words? If you’ve ever experienced these symptoms while delivering a speech or addressing a group, you’re far from alone. Public speaking can be terrifying and yet it’s a vital skill to master and can stand you in good stead time after time.

Enhancing Importance-Performance Analysis Through Segmentation Abstract This article demonstrates how importance-performance analysis (IPA) and segmentation can be effectively used as a tool to measure user satisfaction with the recreational opportunities in a parks and recreation district of a gateway community. Data were obtained from three different segments of the gateway population-year-round residents, seasonal residents, and tourists. Results indicated that importance-performance evaluations varied among the three segments. Segmentation was found to be a necessary component of IPA in order to identify differences between distinct user groups that allow for more accurate planning and decision making. Additionally this article examines how the adjustment of importance and performance crosshairs can enhance IPA beyond more traditional approaches.

Hindu–Islamic relations Theology and concept of God Islam is a system of thought that believes in absolute monotheism, called Tawḥīd. Muslims are required to affirm daily, as one of the five pillars of Islam, in Shahada, that is "There is no god but Allah, Muhammad is the messenger of Allah." Hinduism is a system of thought that believes in varied traditions. In the Upanishads, one popular interpretation is the Advaita Vedanta tradition. It is absolute monism. A person finds the truth when realizing his/her true nature or the pure soul or self (atman). When the person is devoid of ignorance the person realizes that their inner self (atman) is the Brahman (the ultimate reality). Till the person realizes this truth, the person is usually of ignorance and therefore thinks everything around them is real and indulges in it, when it's actually not and is an illusion (maya). The Brahman which is absolute and pure and the atman which is absolute and pure also are the same in this school of thought. When the person singularly focus on 'I' and indulges in self-enquiry, study of texts, ethical perfection and jnana and the self, they realize the Brahman and don't depend on the material. Scriptures and messengers The scriptures of Islam are the Qurān and the Hadiths. Muslims believe that Muhammad was the last messenger, and Quran was the last revelation from God to the last prophet. The hadiths contain the Sunnah, or the reports of Muhammad's life, sayings, actions and examples he set. The Quran and the Hadiths are considered in Islam as the source of Islamic law, or Sharia. Hinduism has no traditional ecclesiastical order, no centralized religious authorities, no governing body, no prophet(s) nor any binding holy book. Spiritual knowledge of Hinduism is contained in texts called Shruti ("what is heard") and Smriti ("what is remembered"). These texts discuss diverse theology, mythology, rituals, rites of passage, philosophy, and other topics. Major scriptures in Hinduism include the Vedas, Upanishads (both Śruti), the Epics, Puranas, Dharmasutras and Agamas (all smriti). Similarities According to Islam, one after death either enters Paradise (Jannah) or Hell (Jahannam), depending on their deeds. However unlike Muslims, Hindus believe in cycle of reincarnation. However, the concept of higher and lower realms of existence can be found in Hinduism, though the realms are temporary places Both are obliged to fight the Demons (Shaitan/Asura), who are in constantly war against human and the Divine. Asuras are part of Hindu mythology along with Devas, Yakshas and Rakshasas. Asuras feature in one of many cosmological theories in Hinduism. Asuras are sometimes considered nature spirits. They battle constantly with the devas. Although the polytheistic practises of Hinduism are condemned by Islams strict monotheism, similarities can still be found at the concept of the Divine and the world. Both belief in the existence of an entirety supreme power, either called Brahman or Allah. Brahman is a metaphysical concept which is the single binding unity behind diversity in all that exists in the universe, while Allah is the Arabic word for God in Abrahamic religions. Assimilated in local lore, the Islamic concept of God became comparable to the notion of the ultimate reality expressing itself through different names as the creator, the maintainer and the destroyer. The Sufi concept of Waḥdat al-Wujūd is close to the world view asserted in the Advaita Vedanta. Some Islamic scholars belief that the worlds created by God will perish and created anew resembling the Hindu notion of an endless procress of generation and decay. Pilgrimage is found in both religions, Hajj to Mecca in Islam, while Kumbh Mela and Tirtha Yatra in Hinduism. Muslims performs 7 rounds around Kaaba during Hajj which is called Tawaf. Hindus also perform one or more rounds around the center (Garbhagriya) of a temple (one to twenty-one), which is called as Parikrama (known in Sanskrit as pradakśiṇā). Both of them are commonly called circumambulation. By some members of the Ahmadiya Muslim Community, Hindu Avatar Kalki is believed to be the Islamic Prophet Muhammad; some of the Muslim scholars and a few of the Hindu scholars also argued that kalki is mentioned indicating Muhammad in some Hindu scriptures. However, most of the Hindu scholars widely discarded it as a false theory, claiming that Kalki is supposed to arrive at the end of Kali Yuga, not in the beginning. The idea of Fana has been compared to Samadhi. Apostasy Apostasy, that is a condition of Islam for a Muslim to leave his religion or to blaspheme against it, is according to some Islamic schools of law, a religious crime . Hinduism allows freedom of conscience. A Hindu can become an atheist, or change beliefs when he or she wants. Both religions state that there should be no compulsion in religion even though Islamic scholars may call for punishment for leaving Islam. Blasphemy Blasphemy against God and against Muhammad is a religious crime in Islam. The Quran in verse and many Hadiths of Islam discuss blasphemy and its punishment. A variety of actions, speeches or behavior can constitute blasphemy in Islam. Some examples include insulting or cursing Allah or Muhammad, mockery or disagreeable behavior towards beliefs and customs common in Islam, finding faults or expressing doubts about Allah, improper dress, drawing offensive cartoons, tearing or burning holy literature of Islam, creating or using music or painting or video or novels to mock or criticize Muhammad are some examples of blasphemous acts. Punishment can range from imprisonment, flogging to execution. Open discussion and criticism of spiritual thoughts, ideas and deities is allowed in Hinduism. The concept of "divine blasphemy" or "heresy" does not exist in Hinduism, and ancient Hindu texts make no provisions for blasphemy. Caste and creed Hindu texts such as the Manusmriti segregate people through social stratification called the caste system. Caste System is cultural to India and not specific to Hinduism. Islamic texts do not segregate Muslims by caste, however in India Muslims also have their own caste system including untouchables. Islamic texts such as the Hadīth, however mention the prophecy of the Muslim Ummah being separated into 73 sects. This stratification is from the book of the Prophet - the Hadīth. Thus, in prophetic tradition it is believed that despite the inherent division there is always a majority which retains the correct belief and practice of Islam, a group singled out from the others and on the path to attain salvation - Ahl al-Sunnah wa٬ُl-Jamāٝah While Hinduism texts do not list thousands of castes, in practice, the Hindu caste system has been described variously as four Varnas or as thousands of endogamous hereditary groups called jātis. Similar to the Hindu caste structure of four Varnas, in practice, Muslims in South Asia developed a caste system that divided the South Asian Muslim society into three: the foreign-descended Ashraf Muslims, the local Ajlaf converts, and the converted Arzal untouchables at the lowest rung. The term "Arzal" stands for "degraded" and the Arzal castes are further subdivided, like Hindu jatis, into Bhanar, Halalkhor, Hijra, Kasbi, Lalbegi, Maugta, Mehtar etc. Scholars state that caste-like social stratification is also found in Islam outside South Asia. Circumcision Khitan (circumcision) of males is required in Islam. The Qur'an itself does not mention circumcision explicitly in any verse, but it is mentioned in the Hadiths of Islam. Muslim commentators consistently interpret Islamic scriptures as making male circumcision obligatory. Circumcision is not a religious requirement in Hinduism. Consanguineous marriage Consanguineous marriage are those where the bride and groom share a grandparent or near ancestor. Islam prohibit marriage due to consanguinity with ancestors, descendants, siblings, siblings of ancestors and descendants of siblings. However marriage with cousins and farther consanguineous relatives is allowed. Hinduism forbids consanguineous marriage, and strongly recommends seven degrees of biological separation between bride and groom. But in Andhra Pradesh, Tamil Nadu and Kerala, consanguineous marriages are very common among Hindus. In Tamil Nadu, some communities allow a Hindu girl to marry her mother's younger brother while in Kerala, marriages between first cousins are very common. Arranged endogamous consanguineous marriage are very common in Islam, particularly first cousin marriages, followed by second cousin marriages. About 25 to 40% of all marriages in Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and UAE are first cousin marriages; while overall consanguineous arranged marriages exceed 65 to 80% in various regions of the Islamic Middle East, North Africa and Central Asia. Jizya Islamic scriptures, in its history and unlike Hinduism, compelled the payment of a special tax called Jizya from dhimmi, the non-Muslims who live in a Muslim state. Jizya was a tool of social stratification and treasury's revenue from non-Muslims. Jizya was a reminder of subordination of a non-Muslim under Muslims, and created a financial and political incentive to convert to Islam. There is no such a concept in Hinduism. Food-related conflicts Islam has restrictions on food, such as how the meat is prepared. Halal meat is prepared by ritual slaughter that involves cutting the jugular veins of the animal with a sharp knife. This leads to death via bleeding. Meat from animals that die of natural causes or accident is not allowed. Beef is a sought after meat among Muslims, but they strictly avoid pork and alcohol. Hinduism, with its emphasis on non-violence against all creatures, tends to be vegetarian, and lacto-vegetarian meals are common. However, food habits are left as a choice for Hindus and alcohol consumption is accepted. There are varied opinions regarding the permissibility of eating meat in Hinduism, depending upon the interpretation of the Hindu scriptures. Vegetarianism is a choice for most Hindus, although some sects emphasize vegetarianism. Some Hindus consider violence against animals, that is used to produce any meat, so unacceptable that they avoid eating with non-vegetarians. Most observant Hindus strictly avoid cow-based beef, but some may eat water buffalo-based beef. The manner in which an animal is slaughtered in Islamic rituals is considered cruel and barbaric by Hindus, as Hindus consume Jhatka meat. Jhatka is meat from an animal that has been killed instantly, such as by a single strike of a sword or axe to sever the head, as opposed to ritualistically slow slaughter (kutha) in the halal method (dhabihah). Jhatka is the method of meat production demanded by most Hindus who eat meat, as this provides a quick and painless death to the animal. Both methods use sharp knives. In the Jhatka method, a swift uninterrupted cut severs the trachea, esophagus, carotid arteries, jugular veins, vagus nerves and the spine. In the Halal method, the slaughter is done with a swift deep incision with a sharp knife on the throat, cutting the jugular veins and carotid arteries of both sides but leaving the spinal cord and nervous tissue intact, followed by a period where the blood of the animal is drained out. A prayer to God is not required in the Jhatka method with each animal commercially slaughtered, but a prayer to God (Allah) is required at the start or if there is any interruption during Halal meat production. Slaughter of a cow is considered heinous in Hinduism and has been a cause of Hindu-Muslim riots in India. Politics and historical interaction H.G. Rawlinson, in his book: Ancient and Medieval History of India claims the first Arab Muslims settled on the Indian coast in the last part of the 7th century. It was however the subsequent expansion of the Turkish and Persian led Muslim conquest in the Indian subcontinent over the next millennium that significantly expanded the interaction of Islam with Hinduism. Translation of scriptures The Mughal Emperor Akbar commissioned many Hindu masterpieces to be translated into Persian. Girish Chandra Sen, a Brahmo Samaj missionary, was the first person to produce the complete translation of the Qur'an into Bengali in 1886. Music There have been instances of syncretic cooperation on music on Islamic and Hindu theme. The national poet of Bangladesh Kazi Nazrul Islam, for example, wrote a lot of Islamic devotional songs for the mainstream of Bengali folk music. He also explored Hindu devotional music by composing Shama Sangeet, bhajans and kirtans, often merging Islamic and Hindu values. Nazrul's poetry and songs explored the philosophy of Islam and Hinduism. Religious violence Historical records of religious violence are extensive for medieval India, in the form of corpus written by numerous Muslim historians. Will Durant states that Hindus were historically persecuted during Islamic rule of the Indian subcontinent. Recurrent clashes between Hindus and Muslims appear in the historical record during the Delhi Sultanate. They continued through the Mughal Empire, and then in the British colonial period. During the British period, religious affiliation became an issue ... Religious communities tended to become political constituencies. This was particularly true of the Muslim League created in 1905, which catered exclusively for the interests of the Muslims ... Purely Hindu organizations also appeared such as the Hindu Sabha (later Mahasabha) founded in 1915. In the meantime Hindu-Muslim riots became more frequent; but they were not a novelty, they are attested since the Delhi sultanate and were already a regular feature of the Mughal Empire .... When in 1947 he [Muhammad Ali Jinnah] became the first Governor General of Pakistan and the new border was demarcated, gigantic riots broke out between Hindus and Muslims. — Marc Gaborieau, Anthropology Today There have been periodic instances of violence against Muslims in India from before its partition from Pakistan in 1947, frequently in the form of mob attacks on Muslims by Hindus that form a pattern of sporadic sectarian violence between the Hindu and Muslim communities. Over 10,000 people have been killed in Hindu-Muslim communal violence since 1950 in 6,933 instances of communal violence between 1954 and 1982. The roots of violence against Muslims lie in India's history, stemming from lingering resentment toward the Islamic domination of India during the Middle Ages, policies established by the country's British colonizers, the violent partition of India into a Muslim Pakistan, and a Hindu Majority, but secular India with a large but minority Muslim population. Some scholars have described incidents of anti-Muslim violence as politically motivated and organized anti-Muslim violence are politically motivated and a part of the electoral strategy of mainstream political parties they called them pogroms or acts of genocide, or a form of state terrorism with "organized political massacres" rather than mere "riots". Others argue that, although their community faces discrimination and violence, some Muslims have been highly successful, that the violence is not as widespread as it appears, but is restricted to certain urban areas because of local socio-political conditions, and there are many cities where Muslims and Hindus live peacefully together with almost no incidences of sectarian violence. Contemporary interaction India helped Bangladesh gain independence from Pakistan in 1971 AD. Various agencies, such as BBC, Associated Press and Reuters have reported periodic violence against Hindus by some Muslims in Bangladesh, and attempts by the Bangladeshi government to punish such violence. For example, in early 2013, Hindu families were attacked and killed, as well as dozens of temples burnt/destroyed after the International Crimes Tribunal sentenced Delwar Hossain Sayeedi of the Jamaat-e-Islami to death for the war crimes committed during the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War.

Mertk Interacts with Tim-4 to Enhance Tim-4-Mediated Efferocytosis Apoptotic cells expressing phosphatidylserine (PS) on their cell surface are directly or indirectly recognized by phagocytes through PS-binding proteins. The PS-binding protein Tim-4 secures apoptotic cells to phagocytes to facilitate the engulfment of apoptotic cells. However, the molecular mechanism by which Tim-4 transduces signals to phagocytes during Tim-4-mediated efferocytosis is incompletely understood. Here, we report that Tim-4 collaborates with Mertk during efferocytosis through a biochemical interaction with Mertk. Proximal localization between the two proteins in phagocytes was observed by immunofluorescence and proximal ligation assays. Physical association between Tim-4 and Mertk, which was mediated by an interaction between the IgV domain of Tim-4 and the fibronectin type-III domain of Mertk, was also detected with immunoprecipitation. Furthermore, the effect of Mertk on Tim-4-mediated efferocytosis was abolished by GST-MertkFnIII, a soluble form of the fibronectin type-III domain of Mertk that disrupts the interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk. Taken together, the results from our study suggest that a physical interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk is necessary for Mertk to enhance efferocytosis mediated by Tim-4. Introduction Apoptotic cells generated during development and in homeostasis are efficiently removed by a process called efferocytosis. To facilitate this process, phagocytes have developed a unique apparatus to distinguish apoptotic cells from live cells and to specifically phagocytose apoptotic cells. Phosphatidylserine (PS) exposed on the outer leaflet of the plasma membrane is a key molecule utilized by the apparatus. PS exposed on apoptotic cells is recognized by phagocytes through PS-binding proteins, either directly or indirectly. PS-binding proteins can be cytoplasmic proteins, transmembrane proteins, or secreted proteins. Transmembrane and secreted PS-binding proteins are the types predominately involved in recognition of apoptotic cells by phagocytes due to their subcellular locations and ability to bind to PS on apoptotic cells. Since PS expression on apoptotic cells is indispensable for efferocytosis, studies to identify PS receptors have been carried out over the past couple of decades, and have identified several engulfment receptors for apoptotic cells. Some of these receptors are referred to as PS receptors, including Bai1, Sabilin-2, and Tim-4, which directly recognize PS on apoptotic cells. Other engulfment receptors, such as TAM receptors (for example Mertk) and integrins, indirectly sense PS on apoptotic cells through recognition of secreted PS-binding proteins called bridging molecules. PS receptors have differing abilities to transduce signals into phagocytes. Some PS receptors can directly transduce signals into phagocytes after binding to apoptotic cells, while other receptors secure apoptotic cells to phagocytes without directly initiating signal transduction; these latter receptors are called tethering receptors. Tethering receptors are thought to facilitate the recognition and ingestion of apoptotic cells by other engulfment receptors capable of mediating direct signaling [19,. Among PS receptors, Tim-4 has received much attention due to its relevance to allergic diseases, its high expression in macrophages, and the availability of the crystal structure of the Tim-4-PS complex [11,. Initially, Tim-4 was identified as a ligand for Tim-1 that regulates T-cell proliferation. Later, it was reported that Tim-4 binds to PS expressed on apoptotic cells and thus functions as a PS receptor. Tim-4, however, does not mediate direct signaling in efferocytosis because its cytoplasmic tail, which is about 40 amino acids long, is too short to contain a signaling motif. Moreover, efferocytosis mediated by Tim-4 mutants lacking the cytoplasmic tail or transmembrane domain is unimpaired and comparable with that mediated by the full-length protein. Thus, current understanding is that Tim-4 secures apoptotic cells to phagocytes by directly binding to PS on apoptotic cells, and that other engulfment receptors such as v 3 and Mertk that are capable of direct signaling thereafter efficiently recognize apoptotic cells and mediate their ingestion. We recently reported how Tim-4 collaborates with integrins that can directly transduce signals. The IgV domain of Tim-4 interacts with the fibronectin type-III (FnIII) domain of Fn1, and thus Fn1 forms a complex with Tim-4 and integrins. The formation of this complex promotes synergistic cooperation of these two types of engulfment receptors, leading to efficient binding to and ingestion of apoptotic cells. However, disrupting the complex or inhibiting integrins partially inhibits Tim-4-mediated efferocytosis. Interestingly, Mertk, which also functionally collaborates with Tim-4 and promotes Tim-4-mediated efferocytosis, possesses two FnIII domains in its extracellular region. These properties of Mertk led us to validate the biochemical interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk and, if any, the effect of the interaction on Tim-4-mediated efferocytosis. Our results showed that Tim-4 and Mertk were located in close proximity and biochemically interacted with each other. The interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk was mediated by association of the IgV domain of Tim-4 with the FnIII domain of Mertk. In addition, the enhancing effect of Mertk on Tim-4-mediated efferocytosis was nullified by GST-Mertk FnIII, a soluble form of the FnIII domains of Mertk that disrupts the interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk. GST-Mertk FnIII impaired efferocytosis mediated by peritoneal macrophages derived from wild-type (WT) mice but did not impair efferocytosis mediated by peritoneal macrophages derived from Tim-4 -/or Mertk -/mice. Taken together, the results of our study suggest that a physical association between Tim-4 and Mertk is necessary for Mertk to enhance Tim-4-mediated efferocytosis. Plasmids and Antibodies All plasmids made in this study were generated by a cloning strategy based on PCR and sequenced to confirm their accuracy of sequence. Mouse Mertk cDNA were purchased from Open Biosystem (Cat #: OMM5896-202524955). HA-Tim-4, Tim-4 ECR -FLAG, Tim-4 IgV, and Tim-4 mucin were previously used. Mertk ECR, Mertk Ig, and Mertk FnIII constructs contain residues Mice Tim-4 -/mice (RBRC04895) were obtained from Riken BioResource Center (Japan), Mertk -/mice were purchased from Jackson Laboratories (Bar Harbor, USA). All experiments using mice were approved by the animal care and ethics committees (LARC) of the Gwangju institute of science and technology (GIST) in accordance with the national institutes of health guide for the care and use of laboratory animals. Immunostaining LR73 cells were cultured on 18 mm coverslips coated with poly-D-Lysine, on a 12-well non-culture plate for 36 h and transfected. The day after transfection, the cells were washed with PBS, fixed with 4% paraformaldehyde in PBS for 15 min. After fixation, cells were blocked with 10% BSA in PBS for 30 min and incubated with primary antibody, anti-HA, anti-Mertk in 3% BSA in PBS at 4 C overnight. Then cells were washed with PBS for 5 min twice and stained with Alexa fluor 405, 488, and 594 conjugated secondary antibodies for 1 h. Images were obtained using confocal microscope (FV1000 SPD, Olympus, Tokyo, Japan). The co-localization index was calculated as follows. The formula for the co-localization index is the number of pixels with a co-localization color divided by the number of total pixels. The range of two colors from green (Mertk) to red (Tim-4) was set, and the pixels in the middle range of the color (yellowish) was counted using ImageJ 1.4. Efferocytosis Assay Efferocytosis assays were performed as previously described. Briefly, LR73 cells were transfected with the indicated plasmids. Then, 1 d after transfection, the cells were preincubated in serum-free alpha-MEM for 2 h and then incubated with 5-(and-6)-Carboxytetramethylrhodamine (TAMRA)-labelled apoptotic thymocytes suspended in serum-free MEM in the presence or absence of purified proteins for 2 h. The cells then were extensively washed with ice-cold PBS, trypsinized, and analyzed using flow cytometry (BD FACS Canto II). Data from flow cytometry were analyzed by FLOWJO software (FlowJo LLC, Ashland, OR, USA). For assays for efferocytosis by peritoneal macrophages, peritoneal macrophages derived from indicated mice were incubated with TAMRA-labelled apoptotic thymocytes for 15 min, then washed with ice-cold PBS, trypsinized, and analyzed using flow cytometry. Proximity Ligation Assay Proximity ligation assays were performed according to the manufacturer's protocol (DUO92101, DUO92003, Sigma Aldrich, St. Louis, MO, USA). Briefly, LR73 cells were cultured on 18 mm coverslips coated with poly-D-Lysine and transfected with indicated plasmids. Then, 1 d after transfection, the cells were fixed with 4% paraformaldehyde in PBS, permeabilized with 0.1% PBST, blocked with Duolink ® blocking solution for 1 h, and incubated with anti-FLAG (F1804, Sigma Aldrich, St. Louis, MO, USA) and anti-Tim-4(SC-79143, Santa-Cruz biotechnology, Dallas, TX, USA) antibodies at 4 C overnight. Then, the cells were incubated with anti-mouse and anti-goat PLA probes, and then ligation and amplification were sequentially allowed to occur in ligation solution and amplification buffer. Then the cells were fixed, and images were acquired using confocal microscopy. Statistical Analysis All data are shown as the mean value ± standard deviation. Each experiment was performed independently at least two times. Statistical significance was analyzed by two-tailed t-test in GraphPad Prism 7 software and significance was accepted when p values were < 0.05 Tim-4 is Co-Localized with Mertk Previously, we showed that during Tim-4-mediated efferocytosis, Fn1 functions as a scaffold by bringing together the IgV domain of Tim-4 and the FnIII domain of Fn1. However, abrogating the interaction of Tim-4 with Fn1 or blocking integrin signaling only partially inhibited Tim-4-mediated efferocytosis, implying redundancy of signaling in Tim-4-mediated efferocytosis. Interestingly, Mertk possesses two FnIII domains in its extracellular region ( Figure 1A), and it is reported that Mertk functionally collaborates with Tim-4 to facilitate engulfment of apoptotic cells. We also confirmed the effect of Mertk on Tim-4-mediated efferocytosis under serum-free conditions, which did not contain bridging molecules such as Gas6 required for Mertk-mediated efferocytosis and thus excluded the effect of Mertk itself on efferocytosis: efferocytosis mediated by cells overexpressing both Tim-4 and Mertk was superior to that by cells overexpressing Tim-4 alone ( Figure 1B), and this superior efferocytosis was not due to an increase in the number of apoptotic cells binding to phagocytes ( Figure 1C). These findings led us to test the possibility that Mertk could relay signals from Tim-4-tethered apoptotic cells into phagocytes through a physical interaction with Mertk. To address this possibility, the close physical distance between Tim-4 and Mertk was validated using two approaches, immunofluorescence and proximity ligation assays. First, FLAG-tagged Mertk was expressed in LR73 cells stably expressing hemagglutinin (HA)-tagged Tim-4, and their co-localization was evaluated using confocal microscopy. Both Tim-4 and Mertk were localized in the plasma membrane and fluorescence emitted from them was substantially superimposed, distinctly showing co-localization of Tim-4 and Mertk ( Figure 1D). Next, we tested whether they are located in close enough proximity to physically interact with each other, using a proximal ligation assay. Fluorescence signals were only observed in LR73 cells co-expressing Tim-4 and Mertk, whereas signals were not detected in cells expressing either Tim-4 or Mertk alone ( Figure 1E). These data indicate that a biochemical interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk is feasible. Tim-4 Interacts with Mertk Next, to directly test whether Tim-4 biochemically interacts with Mertk, HA-Tim-4 and Mertk-FLAG were overexpressed in 293T cells, and immunoprecipitation assays were performed. HA-Tim-4 was robustly co-precipitated with Mertk-FLAG by an anti-FLAG antibody (Figure 2A). This co-precipitation was inversely observed as well; Mertk-FLAG was co-precipitated with HA-Tim-4 by an anti-Tim-4 tail antibody ( Figure 2B). Furthermore, to test whether the interaction could occur at endogenous protein levels, peritoneal macrophages, known to endogenously express both Tim-4 and Mertk, were lysed and Tim-4 was immunoprecipitated with an anti-Tim-4 tail antibody. Similarly, Mertk co-precipitated with Tim-4 at endogenous protein levels ( Figure 2C), suggesting that Tim-4 physically interacts with Mertk. It is known that Mertk is phosphorylated during efferocytosis. We thus tested whether Mertk phosphorylation could affect the interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk. Treatment of cells overexpressing Mertk with LDC1267 drastically reduced Mertk phosphorylation, but it unaltered the interaction between the proteins ( Figure S1). Unexpectedly, however, antibodies recognizing the extracellular region of Tim-4 or Mertk failed to co-precipitate Mertk or Tim-4, respectively, although they precipitated their own antigens ( Figure 2D,E). These findings might result from steric hindrance caused by the antibodies, and also implies that the extracellular regions of Tim-4 and Mertk might mediate the interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk. The IgV Domain of Tim-4 Binds to the Fibronectin Type III Domain of Mertk To test whether the extracellular regions of Tim-4 and Mertk indeed mediate the interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk, Tim-4 lacking both the cytoplasmic tail and the transmembrane domain (HA-Tim-4-GPI) and Mertk-FLAG were expressed in 293T cells, and the interaction between the proteins was evaluated. In these experiments, HA-Tim4-GPI levels were always lower than HA-Tim-4 when Mertk was co-expressed; the reasons for this are unknown. Nevertheless, HA-Tim-4-GPI was robustly co-precipitated with Mertk by an anti-FLAG antibody ( Figure 3A), suggesting that Tim-4 and Mertk interact through their extracellular regions. We thus tested whether an interaction occurred between the extracellular regions of Tim-4 and Mertk. The extracellular region of Tim-4 co-precipitated with the extracellular region of Mertk ( Figure 3B). Since we previously found that the IgV domain of Tim-4 interacts with the FnIII domain of Fn1, we further tested whether the IgV domain of Tim-4 and the FnIII domain of Mertk mediate the interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk. As expected, the FnIII domain of Mertk co-precipitated with the extracellular region of Tim-4, whereas the Ig domain of Mertk did not co-precipitate ( Figure 3C). Inversely, the IgV domain of Tim-4 co-precipitated with the extracellular region of Mertk, while the mucin domain of Tim-4 did not co-precipitate ( Figure 3D and Figure S2). In agreement with a previous report, the expression level of the IgV domain of Tim-4 was exceptionally low. Thus, the IgV domain was undetectable in total cell lysates. However, it was detected in immunoprecipitants when the protein was precipitated and concentrated by an anti-FLAG antibody ( Figure 3E Disrupting the Interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk Abolishes the Effect of Mertk on Tim-4-Mediated Efferocytosis Next, we validated the importance of the physical interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk for their synergistic effects on efferocytosis. Due to the necessity of the FnIII domains of Mertk for the interaction between Mertk and Tim-4, we generated a soluble form of the FnIII domain of Mertk (GST-Mertk FnIII ) from 293T cells and validated whether the soluble protein could disrupt the interaction of Tim-4 with Mertk. Notably, the interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk was attenuated in the presence of GST-Mertk FnIII compared with the same interaction in the presence of GST ( Figure 4A and Figure S3). Furthermore, the fluorescence signal for co-localization of Tim-4 with Mertk was weaker in cells treated with GST-Mertk FnIII than in cells treated with GST ( Figure 4B), and co-localization was significantly reduced by GST-Mertk FnIII ( Figure 4C and Figure S4). Additionally, we tested whether the soluble protein affects the interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk using PLA assay. The PLA fluorescence from cells expression Tim-4 and Mertk in the presence of GST-Mertk FnIII was noticeably lower than that from control cells ( Figure S5) suggesting that GST-Mertk FnIII impedes the interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk. We then tested the effects of GST-Mertk FnIII on efferocytosis mediated by Tim-4 and Mertk. Efferocytosis by cells expressing both Tim-4 and Mertk was superior to efferocytosis by cells expressing only Tim-4 or Mertk, as indicated by the percentage of cells that engulfed apoptotic cells. However, efferocytosis by cells expressing both Tim-4 and Mertk in the presence of GST-Mertk FnIII was lower than that in the presence of GST ( Figure 4D). Notably, the inhibitory effect of GST-Mertk FnIII on efferocytosis by cells expressing both Tim-4 and Mertk was not due to decreased binding of apoptotic cells to phagocytes ( Figure 4E), indicating that enhanced efferocytosis is due to the interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk, rather than alterations in the number of apoptotic cells binding to phagocytes. In addition, we tested the physiological relevance of the interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk on efferocytosis using peritoneal macrophages derived from WT, Tim-4 -/-, and Mertk -/mice. In agreement with a previous report, efferocytosis by Tim-4 -/or Mertk -/peritoneal macrophages was inferior to efferocytosis by WT peritoneal macrophages. This inferior efferocytosis by Tim-4 -/or Mertk -/peritoneal macrophages was not further impaired by GST-Mertk FnIII, while efferocytosis by WT peritoneal macrophages was reduced and comparable with efferocytosis by Tim-4 -/or Mertk -/peritoneal macrophages in the presence of GST-Mertk FnIII ( Figure 4F). Taken together, these data suggest that the interaction between Tim-4 and Mertk is indispensable for the enhancing effect of Mertk on Tim-4-mediated efferocytosis. were incubated with TAMRA-labeled apoptotic thymocytes in serum-free RPMI for 2 h in the presence of purified GST-Mertk FnIII or GST, and then peritoneal macrophages engulfing apoptotic thymocytes were analyzed using flow cytometry (n = 4). Data are shown as the mean ± standard deviation. NS, not significant. **p < 0.01, *p < 0.05. TCL, total cell lysate; IP, immunoprecipitation. Discussion The exposure of PS on the apoptotic cells and its recognition by receptor(s) on phagocytes has generated considerable interest. The identification of PS receptors such as Tim-4 and Bai1 advanced the comprehensive understanding of efferocytosis. Among PS receptors, Tim-4 has received the most attention. In the past decade, studies have revealed how Tim-4 recognizes PS on apoptotic cells and transduces signals into phagocytes during efferocytosis. However, knowledge of Tim-4 signaling during efferocytosis is still incomplete. A recent finding by our group, namely, that a physical interaction occurs between the IgV domain of Tim-4 and the FnIII domain of Fn1, encouraged us to search for a transmembrane protein containing a FnIII domain that might interact with Tim-4 and transduce signals for Tim-4. Interestingly, Mertk comprises two Ig domains and two FnIII domains in its extracellular region. Moreover, it is known that Mertk functionally cooperates with Tim-4 to promote engulfment of apoptotic cells. However, a previous study was not able to detect a biochemical interaction between these two proteins. This failure could be due to the use of antibodies recognizing the extracellular region of Tim-4 or Mertk; in this study, antibodies recognizing the extracellular region of Tim-4 or Mertk failed to co-precipitate Mertk or Tim-4, while antibodies recognizing the cytoplasmic tail of Tim-4 or a C-terminal tag of Mertk robustly co-precipitated Mertk or Tim-4, respectively. As well as containing two FnIII domains, Mertk also contains two Ig domains, which are very similar to the IgV domain of Tim-4. Thus, the Ig domain of Mertk intra-or inter-molecularly interacts with its FnIII domain. This intra-or inter-molecular interaction of Mertk could be released by binding of either Tim-4 or bridging molecules such as Gas6 to Mertk. Furthermore, it is possible that Mertk binds to Fn1 through an interaction between the Ig domain of Mertk and the FnIII domain of Fn1, and joins to the previously identified Fn1-Tim-4-integrin complex to facilitate more efficient binding and ingestion of apoptotic cells. It will be interesting to investigate in future studies whether Mertk intra-or inter-molecularly interacts or forms a complex with the Tim-4-Fn1-integrin complex. Taken together, results from our study suggest that the mechanism by which Mertk collaborates with Tim-4 during efferocytosis involves a biochemical interaction between the proteins. This interaction is essential for the enhancing effect of Mertk on Tim-4-mediated efferocytosis, and thus Mertk might directly aid Tim-4-mediated efferocytosis rather than participating in the so-called two-step engulfment process.

Knowledge acquisition and distributed decision making A concept of knowledge acquisition and distributed decision-making for autonomous distributed robotic systems is presented. The concept is based on a distributed genetic algorithm and a supplement operation, proposed to supply a deficiency of knowledge for decision making. Considering the localization of knowledge and communication in a distributed robotic system, three issues are developed, knowledge acquisition, cooperative problem solving, and coherence of solutions. As an example of cooperative problem solving, path planning for the structure configuration of the Cellular Robotic System (CEBOT) is considered. The simulation results of the influence of local knowledge and local communication in each robot are presented.<<ETX>>

Three dimensional simulation of short channel effects in junction less FinFETs In this article, nchannel junctionless transistors (JLTs) with gate lengths in the range of 20250nm, having crystallinesilicon (cSi) and polycrystallinesilicon (polySi) channels are characterized for the short channel effects (SCEs). The shift of the threshold voltage with the gate length and the drain induced barrier lowering (DIBL) are determined by three dimensional numerical simulations using technology computer aided design (TCAD) software. Conductive channels are considered to be fin like structures surrounded by oxides and gate materials on three sides. The effect of important device parameters are considered. Degradation of SCEs with shortening of the gate length is predicted as expected from two dimensional simulations. In addition, simulations indicate improvements for lower doping. Thinner channels show better DIBL and threshold shift. The fin height dependence is more complicated where undesirable peak in DIBL is observed for midrange heights near 200nm. DIBL sharply drops for lower fin heights but the threshold shift becomes worse. Overall a small gate device of 20nm with short fins of similar size can be expected to give a threshold shift of less than 30mV and DIBL about 70mV/V and, the use of three dimensional dielectric pockets leads to near zero shift of the threshold voltage. The performance of the two material types are comparable. INTRODUCTION Threshold voltage is one of the key parameters of the field effect transistors both in digital and analog applications. When transistor is used as a switch in a digital application, the threshold voltage determines the voltage for turning the device on or off. In analog circuits, it affects the biasing of the circuit and consequently all other relevant parameters such as voltage or current gain. As the device dimensions shrink the predictions of the threshold voltage based on classical textbook mathematical relations become inadequate. This is commonly referred to as the short channel effect (SCE). Two indicators are used to characterize the SCEs. These are the threshold shift ( V th ) and drain induced barrier lowering (DIBL). It is important to determine the effect of various device parameters such as device dimensions, channel doping and material on these indicators. This work is focused on SCEs of junction-less field effect transistors with fins (JL-FinFET). These devices differ from traditional metal oxide semiconductor field effect transistors (MOSFETs) in two important ways. First, they are junction less. Junction-less field effect transistors (JLFET) have been considered as a potential device for nanometer scale dimensions. Even though the device structure is very much like the common inversion mode MOSFET but there are important differences which make it attractive for future. The device is uniformly doped that is, the source, drain, and channel are all of the same doping type hence avoiding junction formation. The absence of p-n junctions has processing advantages for the small scales. Formation of shallow junctions and very sharp doping gradients are fabrication challenges at nanometer dimensions. 6 From the performance perspective, the current carriers are in the bulk of the silicon film with higher mobility compared to the usual inversion mode device where the carriers are at the silicon-insulator interface. Therefore the degradation of carrier mobility due to transverse electric fields is expected to be lower. The SCEs are believed to be less severe in this transistor structure as well. 7 The second difference is that the modern device structures use three dimensional fin like structures to form the transistor channel (FinFET). Here, the conductive channel is a fin protruding from the surface of the device in contrast to the traditional device structure which is planar. We consider junction-less FinFETs with gate oxide and metal covering three sides of the channel. Computer simulations have been indispensable for understanding the short channel effects. Many JLFET analytical and numerical simulations have been 1 or 2-dimensional focused on the device cross section. While with the inherently three dimensional (3-D) nature of the fin structure, 3-D numerical simulations are preferred. Here, the three dimensional numerical simulation tool TCAD-Silvaco 24 is used to study the effect of the various device parameters on the key threshold indicators mentioned above. Three dimensional simulations are harder to implement and take more computer time. However, the outcome is a set of plots showing the variation of the threshold indicators with various device parameters which enable the device designers to select the parameters for their application. We now present a review of the previous 3-D simulations and experiments. Lee et al. 4 carried 3-D simulations of single crystal device and found better performance of JLFET compared to inversion mode (IM) device. They studied the effect of different doping levels, gate lengths and fin widths on threshold voltage roll-off, subthreshold slope (SS), and DIBL. The fin width and thickness were in the range of 5-10 nm, and the gate lengths of 10 to 30 nm were considered. Yan et al. 5 also presented 3-D simulation results for sub 50 nm junction-less nanowire transistors. The variation of DIBL, SS, threshold voltage, and I on with various device parameters such as oxide thickness, channel doping, and fin aspect ratio were considered. Some simulations were for the gate length of 25 nm while for others the gate lengths of 40 nm was considered. The threshold voltage roll-off was not presented. They concluded that the junction-less nanowire transistor can provide high current drive and good short channel behavior. Park et al. 7 presented 3-D simulations for single crystal silicon JLFET and showed improved threshold roll-off and DIBL compared to inversion mode device. They presented experimental measurements which were in agreement with their simulations. The gate length was in the range of 20-250 nm. Here the fin thickness of 20 nm and fin width of 15 nm were used. Recently, the measurements of Park et al. 25 on planar IM device and junction-less transistor showed that the DIBL for planar JLFET was higher than the IM device opposite to previous belief. However, for small nanowire junction-less device, the DIBL performance of the JLFET improved and was comparable to the IM device. For the planar devices the mask gate lengths were 50 nm, 100 nm, and 1 um, and the mask gate width was 10 um. The nanowire junction-less transistor had mask gate length of 1 um and gate width of 80 nm. Hu et al. 26 presented analytical model for junction-less FinFET and presented 3-D simulations using Sentaurus software. They only considered variation of threshold voltage and DIBL with the gate length. Similarly, Guo and Wang 27 presented 3-D simulations only considering the variation of threshold voltage and DIBL with the gate length. It is worth noting that reliability studies comparing threshold shift of the junction-less versus traditional structures have shown improved performance of the junction-less devices. 28 While the early work on JLFETs has been on single crystal silicon but polycrystalline silicon was recently proposed by Lee et al. 29 The cost effectiveness and low thermal budget are some of the attractive features of the polycrystalline device. It is also believed that poly-Si is suitable for stacking layer technology. 29 As far as the device performance is concerned the poly-Si has lower mobility compared to single crystal due to grain boundaries. However, it appears that as the device dimensions become smaller than the grain size, the difference between single and poly crystalline mobility becomes much smaller. Recent work by Billah et al. 30 shows grain size of 350 nm which is large compared to our device dimensions. Lee et al. 29 performed 3-D simulations of poly-Si JLFET and compared their results with single crystal device. The gate lengths of 50 nm, 100 nm, 1 um, and 5 um were considered. The fin width and height (thickness) of 5 to 30 nm were considered in their simulations. They focused on SS and the on/off current ratio. They concluded that the poly and single crystal devices had comparable performance. They did not present data on threshold roll-off and DIBL. In addition to the short channel effects, other aspects of the junction-less devices have also been considered. A recent review of the subthreshold behavior is given by Nowbahari et al. 31 Several authors have addressed the modeling and simulation of the analog/RF performance of FinFETs 32-35 as well. The dependence of RF equivalent circuit parameters on fin dimensions, partly a consequence of SCEs, is evident in some of these simulations. The brief review presented above indicates the need for a systematic evaluation of the short channel effects such as threshold roll-off and drain induced barrier lowering as the 3-D device dimensions are varied. In Section 2, we present the device structure and models used for the simulations. In Section 3, we present the results of the 3-D simulations for devices with different fin dimensions. The fin height, thickness, gate length, and channel doping are varied and their effect on threshold roll-off and DIBL are determined. This evaluation is repeated for both single and poly crystal channels. We also compare our findings with those measured and simulated in literature for devices of similar structure and we improve the threshold shift by applying a dielectric pocket to the channel of the 3-D device. The conclusions are given in Section 4. SIMULATION A JLT having c-Si and poly-Si channel with gate lengths down to 20 nm is simulated by the 3-D technology computer aided design (TCAD-Silvaco) 24 and evaluated for short-channel electrical characteristics in terms of V TH characteristics and DIBL. Here, the device is designed on the bulk-Si substrate with a thick oxide layer. Figure 1 shows the fin like structure and design variables for the 3-D device simulation of the JLFET. In order to simulate the SOI-like environment on the bulk-Si, 100-nm-thick insulator (SiO 2 ) was assumed to be deposited on the Si substrate. The gate dielectric (SiO 2 ) thickness of 2.5 nm is used and the P + poly-silicon with high work function of 4.2 eV is used as the gate material. Source and drain contacts are ohmic to aluminum metal electrodes. In result, the silicon-on-insulator (SOI) material structure consists of a silicon fin of various heights on a 100 nm-thick buried oxide (BOX). Three sides of the fin are covered with 2.5 nm oxide and 40-nm thick gate. A uniform n-type doping concentration of N = 0.5-2 10 19 cm −3 is used for the channel and S/D regions. In the following sections, we present results of variations of the threshold voltage shift and DIBL with geometrical and material parameters. Simulations are provided for the dimensional channel variables namely channel height (H ch ), channel thickness (t ch = t Si ), and channel or gate length (L ch = L gate ). Along with device dimensions, doping concentration, and crystal structure of the channel are also varied. Simulations are carried for both single and poly-crystal silicon channel. The TCAD models include fldmob, srh, fermi, ni.fermi, BQP quantum model, bbt.std, and bbt.nonlocal to consider the tunneling effects and nonlocal trap assisted tunneling effects in 2-D simulation of poly-si channels. SIMULATION RESULTS Simulation results for various JLT structures are presented in this section. The characteristics of interest are the shift in threshold voltage (V TH ) and drain induced barrier lowering (DIBL). The V TH is defined as the difference in V TH value between any physical gate length L gate and the long physical gate length equal to 250 nm. The JLTs of various gate lengths ranging from 20 to 250 nm are characterized. The DIBL characteristic is defined as The threshold voltage is extracted at constant current of 10 −7 W eff ∕L G. Here, W eff is calculated as In order to have better understanding of 3-D simulations, it was decided to simulate a 3-D structure with very high channel height (tall fin) resulting in W eff =1 um which is presumed for 2-D simulations. These results are then compared with the 2-D simulations. The result of this comparison at the drain voltage of V D =0.1 V is presented in Figure 2A,B. Here the fin height is 490 nm resulting in a total gate width of 1 micron. According to this figure, the results of the simulation of a 3-D structure follow the same trend as the 2-D simulation. However the absolute values are not equal. The differences could be due to the end effects which enter the 3-D simulations, such as the interface between fin and the bottom BOX. The three dimensional nature of the electric field at the top and bottom of the fin could result in the differences shown in the figure. Figure 3 shows the effect of the channel thickness on DIBL and threshold shift. The drain voltage is equal to V D =0.05 V for this simulations and all other results that follow, unless specified otherwise. Results are presented for both single and poly crystalline silicon channel in solid and dashed lines with fin height of 17.5 and 490 nm. The fin height of 17.5 nm results in W eff ranging from 55 to 65 nm, depending on the channel thickness. Figure 3A shows the increase in DIBL with increasing channel thickness. This is expected since as the ratio of channel length to thickness decreases we expect less control of the channel by the gate voltage. In such situation the drain voltage affects the threshold. Figure 3B confirms the above argument. There is larger threshold shift for the thicker channel material. It is not reasonable to increase the thickness of the channel to more than the channel length. In addition, according to Figure 3, there is not a noticeable difference between the two types of materials. We can compare the short channel behavior of a long fin device with the channel height of 490 nm (in dotted lines and filled black circles) with the short fin of 17.5 nm. Figure 3 indicates the variation of both threshold shift and DIBL are greater for the long fin structure that is, the short fin device has superior performance. It is worth noting the device with the short fin has a nearly square cross section, almost a short nanowire. The JLT structures with two different channel heights are shown in Figure 4. The effective gate width is accordingly different for these two devices. Figure 5 shows the effect of the channel height on the parameters of interest. The simulation results are presented for two gate lengths of 20 and 50 nm for both c-Si and poly-Si materials. The device with the larger gate length of 50 nm shows improved performance relative to the device with the 20 nm gate length. This is expected from 2-D analysis and simulations as well. We focus on the 20 nm gate length device where Figure 5A shows the Figure 5B the threshold shift worsens as the fins get smaller. Comparing the two material types again we see a slight improvement for the poly-Si. It is worth noting the SCEs are presumed to be independent of the gate width, based on one or two dimensional device considerations. However, the effect of gate width can be taken into account through three dimensional simulations. Extending the simulations to wider gate width reveals a peak in DIBL for mid-range fin heights, as shown in Figure 6A. Here, it is shown that for the fin height near 200 nm, DIBL has the highest value and is nearly flat. For shorter fin heights DIBL drops sharply. DIBL improves for the very short fin while in This result indicates the top gate electrode is most effective for controlling the channel. For short fin heights, the side gate electrodes become less relevant. By increasing the fin height the top and side electrodes play a similar role in controlling the channel. This appears to be least effective gate control with drain voltage influencing the channel potential. The highest DIBL is observed for fin height of 200 nm. With further increase of the fin height, the side gate electrodes become dominant and the top gate becomes less effective. Indeed, we only observe a slight decrease of DIBL as the fin height is increased from 300 to 500 nm. Figure 6B shows the threshold shift as a function of fin height. Threshold shift worsens as the fin height reduces. Therefore, opposite behavior is observed for the SCE indicators with respect to the fin height. We notice the largest shift occurs in a dip at height of 200 nm. The threshold shift for the lowest fin heights is above −30 mV which could be acceptable, considering the low value of DIBL for the smaller heights. The effectiveness of the top gate can be attributed to the top-down potential distribution as opposed to the two side. In the top-down direction electrons face the sharp potential increase between the silicon and the bottom BOX on one side and the softer rise due to depletion layer toward the gate electrode. While in the side-side direction the electrons only see the softer increase of the depletion potential on both sides. Hence, better top gate control results. Figure 7A,B shows the variation of the short channel performance parameters with the channel length, which is equal to the gate length L G = L ch. Two different fin heights of H ch =17.5 and 100 nm are considered for both material types. Here, the performance is as expected. Namely, a worsening of the SCEs with decreasing gate length. In Figure 7A as far as DIBL is concerned, the shorter fin performs better while the opposite is true for the V TH in Figure 7B. This is consistent with results of Figure 6. The difference between the two materials is again marginal, with the poly showing slightly lower threshold shift. The dashed line corresponds to the poly material. The effect of doping is shown in Figure 8A,B. Only single crystal simulations are presented. Three channel doping levels of N = 0.5, 1, and 2 10 19 cm −3 are considered. Three channel heights of H ch =17.5, 100, and 490 nm are also considered for each doping type. The three lowest dashed curves of Figure 8A clearly show the low value of DIBL corresponding to the shortest channel height. In addition, the lowest doping has the lowest DIBL. Examination of the other two channel heights also indicates the lowest doping has the best DIBL performance. Among the three channel heights the middle height of H ch =100 nm shows the lowest spread of the DIBL among the three doping levels, indicating least sensitivity to doping for this channel height, similar to the peak observed in Figure 6A. As far as the threshold shift in Figure 8B is concerned, again the lowest doping device shows the lowest shift. Unlike Figure 8A the spread in the plots for the middle channel height H ch =100 nm shown by solid lines is comparable to the other two channel heights and an improved sensitivity is not observed. However, considering the lowest curves corresponding to the N = 0.5E19 cm −3 we observe that the device with the H ch = 490 nm shows the lowest shift below −20 mV for the shortest channel length of L ch = 20 nm. This is also clearly seen for the N = 1E19 cm -3 plots. In summary, for the shortest gate length L gate = 20 nm the lowest doping N = 0.5E19 cm −3 and shortest channel height H ch = 17.5 nm we have the lowest DIBL. However the lowest V TH occurs for the lowest doping and H ch = 490 nm. We conclude that the lowest doping N = 0.5E19 cm −3 with the height H ch = 100 nm could be a good performance compromise. Even though this does not give the best DIBL but it does result in good threshold shift and least sensitivity to doping variation for DIBL. In Figures 9 and 10, the potential profile of the channel center and surface (silicon-oxide interface) are compared at two drain voltages. As shown in Figure 9, at low drain voltage of 0.05 V the variation of the potential along the length of the device is small and almost indistinguishable for the three different channel heights. Figure 10 shows the potential profiles at drain voltage of 1 V. Here, we see the larger upward shift for fin heights H ch = 100&490 nm, while for the small fin height of H ch = 17.5 nm the shift is smaller. This confirms the diminished effect of drain voltage for the shorter fins which was also observed at DIBL plot of Figure 6A. Figure 11 compares the surface and center potential for the c-Si and poly-Si devices. Two different drain voltages are shown. The difference of the potential distribution between the two material types are marginal something which was also observed at the device terminal characteristics in their short channel behavior. The parametric simulations presented above do not show an overwhelming superiority of single crystalline over poly crystalline channel or vice versa. A comparison of the two material types is shown in Table 1. Here a set of typical parameters are used. We notice there is not a noticeable difference. We compare our findings with measured and simulated results reported in literature. Park et al. 7 measured threshold shift of −40 mV for a 20 nm gate length device. Their doping level was 1-2 10 19 cm -3, channel thickness of 15 nm, oxide thickness of 5 nm, and gate width of 55 nm. Their 3-D simulation result is consistent with their measured value. Our results indicate a threshold shift of −27 mV, for doping of 1 10 19 cm −3, channel thickness of 10 nm, oxide thickness 2.5 nm, and the same gate width. Considering the difference in device structure of thicker oxide and channel, we expect a larger value for their device. They reported a low DIBL of −10 mV/V 7 in their early work but the DIBL values of near 40 mV/V for nanowires with different device parameters were reported later. 25 As shown in Table 1, Finally, by creating a dielectric pocket with a length of 5 nm, a thickness of 10 nm and a height of 11.5 nm on the two ends of the channel of the base structure as shown in Figure 12, we improve SCEs in the device. The promise of this type of device structure was demonstrated by two dimensional simulations of Singh. 18,19 Here, we show the result for a three dimensional structure using 3-D numerical simulations in Table 2. According to this table the threshold shift is reduced to zero volt. CONCLUSIONS Three dimensional numerical simulations of the junction-less FINFETs were carried out to investigate the short channel effects. The simulations included both single and poly crystalline channels. These simulations demonstrated the effect of the various device parameters. The results obtained were consistent with experimentally measured and simulated results reported in literature. Based on these simulations it was concluded that, there was no significant difference in performance of the two material types. Overall, the short fin structures with square cross section showed improved SCEs. Three dimensional simulations of a novel structure with dielectric pockets showed near ideal performance. The results obtained could aid designers to make necessary trade-offs toward a given design goal as far as the short channel effects are concerned. As the device dimensions shrink further to a few nanometers, full quantum mechanical calculations of the device performance become a necessity. Our present simulations include some quantum effects but it is not considered a full quantum treatment. Therefore, new simulation tool has to be utilized for future evaluation of the device performance. ACKNOWLEDGMENT This manuscript is prepared based on PhD thesis of first author at Rasht Branch, Islamic Azad University, Rasht, Iran. CONFLICT OF INTEREST Authors have no conflict of interest relevant to this article. DATA AVAILABILITY STATEMENT The data that support the findings of this study are available from the corresponding author upon reasonable request.

Metal Ion-Chelated Tannic Acid Coating for Hemostatic Dressing Tannic acid (TA), a high-molecular-weight polyphenol, is used as a hemostasis spray and unguent for trauma wound remedy in traditional medical treatment. However, the use of tannic acid on a large-area wound would lead to absorption poisoning. In this work, a TA coating was assembled on a quartz/silicon slide, or medical gauze, via chelation interaction between TA and Fe3+ ions and for further use as a hemostasis dressing. Protein adsorption on the TA coating was further investigated by fluorescence signal, ellipsometry analysis and sodium dodecyl sulfate-polyacrylamide gel electrophoresis (SDS-PAGE). The adsorbed bovine serum albumin (BSA), immunoglobulin G (IgG) and fibrinogen (Fgn) on the TA coating was in the manner of monolayer saturation adsorption, and fibrinogen showed the largest adsorption. Furthermore, we found the slight hemolysis of the TA coating caused by the lysed red blood cells and adsorption of protein, especially the clotting-related fibrinogen, resulted in excellent hemostasis performance of the TA coating in the blood clotting of an animal wound. Thus, this economic, environmentally friendly, flexible TA coating has potential in medical applications as a means of preparing novel hemostasis materials. Introduction Polyphenols, which have traditionally been used for leather tanning and are globally referred to as "vegetable tannins", are ubiquitous in plant tissues. These plant-derived natural products attract scientists' curiosity and commercial interest, as they are linked to diverse biological functions such as chemical defense, pigmentation, structural support, prevention of radiation damage and as antioxidants. Tannic acid (TA), a high-molecular-weight polyphenol containing five digalloyl ester groups covalently attached to a central glucose core, is found in a variety of places including as gall used in Chinese medicine, and in food products and stains. It not only exhibits antitumor, antibacterial, and antioxidant activity, but is also used as a hemostasis spray and unguent for trauma wound remedies in traditional medical treatment. The biological and biochemical mechanisms for the use of tannic acid as a hemostasis agent remain unclear. An accepted notion is that the plant "tanning" polyphenols are capable of forming precipitable complexes with proteins in a nonspecific manner. However, the use of tannic acid on a large-area wound would lead to absorption poisoning. TA has unique structural properties that facilitate electrostatic, hydrogen bonding, and hydrophobic interactions with a variety of materials. In addition, the catechol or galloyl groups present in the phenolic compounds provide chelating sites for metal ions. Inspired by this theory, Ejima et al. recently reported a one-step approach for capsule assembly via the formation of metal-polyphenol complexes using TA and Fe 3+ ions. This novel TA coating-based metal-organic coordination interaction has attracted immense scientific interest in material design and applications because of the fabrication of a versatile film on a range of planar as well as inorganic, organic, and biological particle substrates. Herein, to resolve the problem of absorption poisoning of TA powder in the hemostasis spray and unguent, we used a TA coating to dress biomedical material gauze for controlling bleeding. Briefly, a TA coating was first fabricated on a flat quartz/silicon slide. In addition, two model proteins, BSA and IgG, and a clotting protein, Fgn, were chosen to study the protein adsorption behavior on the TA coating, followed by fluorescence signal and ellipsometry analysis. Subsequently, the TA coating was dressed on the gauze and observed under a scanning electron microscope (SEM). Plasma protein adsorption on the TA-coated gauze was verified by SDS-PAGE, and we found the clotting protein Fgn could clearly bind to the surface of the TA-coated gauze. Finally, the blood compatibility of the TA-coated gauze was studied, and the TA coating as a hemostasis dressing was used in a blood clotting animal wound model. This work is important not only for fundamental biological research, but also for further biomedical applications in pharmacology and biomedicine. Preparation of TA Coating Quartz/silicon slides 30 mm 10 mm 2 mm were used as substrates for the film fabrication. Prior to surface modification, the substrates were cleaned in boiling piranha solution (98% H 2 SO 4 : 30% H 2 O 2 (3:1, v:v). Warning, the solution is extremely hazardous!), rinsed with water thoroughly, and then dried. Slides were immersed in 4% trimethylchlorosilane dichloromethane solutions for 4 h. Subsequently, slides were washed with pure ethanol, followed by water and dried in a stream of nitrogen gas. Medical gauze was used directly without further treatment. The TA coating was prepared on the quartz/silicon slides and medical gauze according to the previous literature with slight modification. Typically, a treated quartz/silicon slide or gauze was placed in a 10 mL tube, and then 4 mL of FeCl 3 6H 2 O aqueous solution (0.8 mg mL −1 ) and 4 mL of TA aqueous solution (3.2 mg mL −1 ) were individually added into the tube with gentle shaking for 3 min. The pH of the mixture was subsequently adjusted to 8 by adding 0.1 M NaOH solution. Then, the obtained TA coating was removed and thoroughly rinsed with water. This process was repeatedly deposited five times (5 deposition cycles, TA coating) to enhance the thickness of the TA coating. The resultant film was denoted TA n, which means the film was fabricated with a cycle number of n. Characterization of TA Coating Ultraviolet−visible (UV-vis) absorption of the TA coating on the quartz slide was carried out on a UV-Vis spectrophotometer (Thermo Scientific). The thickness of the TA coating on the silicon slide was measured by a variable-angle spectroscopic ellipsometer (J. A. Woollam Co., Inc., Lincoln, NE, USA) in the spectral range of 300−800 nm. The thickness values given are the average over 5 independent point measurements on 3 replicate substrates. The morphologies of the TA coating were observed under a scanning electron microscope (Quanta 450, Hillsboro, OR, USA). The samples were coated with gold before observation. Adsorption and Characterization of Model Proteins on TA Coating Bovine serum albumin (BSA), human immunoglobulin G (IgG) and fibrinogen (Fgn) were chosen as model proteins. After labeling with fluorescein isothiocyanate (FITC) for fluorescence analysis (See the Supplementary Materials for details), BSA-FITC, IgG-FITC and Fgn-FITC solutions in PBS (20 mM, pH 7.4, containing 0.15 M NaCl) at a concentration of 1.0 mg mL −1 were incubated with the TA coating on silicon slides for 4 h at 37 C in the dark. Then, the slides were thoroughly washed with PBS and water, and dried with nitrogen for the following analysis. The intensity of fluorescence signals was detected under an Olympus IX71 microscope at identical conditions and quantitatively analyzed using the software ImageJ. The process was further normalized by removing the effect of the fluorescence background and taking the individual fluorescein to protein (F/P) molar ratio of each protein into account, allowing a direct comparison of the coupling amount among different proteins. The thickness of the protein adsorbed on the TA coatings with 5 deposition cycles was further investigated with an ellipsometer. Stability of TA Coating in Physiological Environment To study its stability in the physiological environment, the TA coating on the quartz was dipped in the PBS containing 4 mg mL −1 of BSA at 37 C for the desired length of time. After the treatment, the coating was rinsed with water and dried under a smooth stream of N 2. The remaining TA coating was detected by the ultraviolet−visible (UV-vis) absorption at 216 nm. Characterization of Plasma Protein Adsorption on TA-Coated Gauze Adsorption of plasma protein to the TA-coated gauze was confirmed by sodium dodecyl sulphate polyacrylamide gel electrophoresis (SDS-PAGE). Briefly, the untreated gauze and TA-coated gauze (3.0 3.0 cm 2 ) samples were separately placed into tubes, followed by the addition of 0.1 mL of platelet poor plasma (PPP). After incubating for 3 h at 37 C, the samples were gently rinsed with PBS solution and then immersed in washing buffer (10 wt.% sodium dodecyl sulfate (SDS)) for 12 h to remove the proteins adsorbed on the samples. The amount of the protein eluted in the SDS solution was analyzed with SDS-PAGE using Tris-HCl 12% (w/v) polyacrylamide gels under reducing conditions according to the standardized protocol. The SDS-PAGE gels were scanned on a Gel Document System (Syngene, Cambridge, UK) and the amount of protein was quantified by determining the gray intensity volume of proteins in each band using ImageJ software. Hemolysis Test of TA-Coated Gauze The hemolysis rate was evaluated by incubating the gauze and TA-coated gauze samples (0.5 0.5 cm 2 ) in diluted blood containing 5% fresh anticoagulant blood and 95% normal sodium chloride saline at 37 C for 1 h. The assay was performed according to the Standard Practice for Assessment of Hemolytic Properties of Materials from the American Society for Testing and Materials (ASTM F756-00, 2000). Negative and positive controls were normal saline and distilled water, respectively. After centrifugation at 1000 g for 5 min, the absorbance of the supernatant at 540 nm was recorded. The hemolysis rate (HR) was calculated according to the following equation: where A 1, A 2, and A 3 are the absorbance of the sample, positive control, and negative control, respectively. Whole Blood Clotting Time of TA-Coated Gauze The thrombogenicity of the gauze and TA-coated gauze samples (0.5 0.5 cm 2 ) was evaluated using fresh rabbit blood with a kinetic clotting time method as previously described. Briefly, clotting was induced by the addition of 500 L of 0.1 M CaCl 2 to 5 mL of citrated blood. Next, 200 L of the activated blood was carefully placed on top of the samples in a 12-well plate. All samples were incubated at room temperature for 5, 15, 25, 35 and 45 min. At the end of each time point, the samples were incubated with 2.5 mL of distilled water for 5 min. The red blood cells that were not trapped in the thrombus were lysed with distilled water, thereby releasing hemoglobin into the water for subsequent measurement. The concentration of hemoglobin in solution was assessed by measuring the absorbance at 540 nm using a 96-well plate reader. The size of the clot is inversely proportional to the absorbance value. All samples were analyzed in triplicate. Animal Wound Healing Model This study was conducted in accordance with the National Institutes of Health guidelines for the care and use of animals in research, and the protocol was approved by the Animal Ethics Committee of the Dalian University of Technology. To create the rabbit ear wound, 5 white New Zealand rabbits (random distribution of male and female) were weighed and anesthetized with an intraperitoneal injection of phenobarbital sodium (150 mg/kg). Both ventral ears were treated with alcohol (75% volume) and draped aseptically. One circular (5 mm in diameter) full-thickness wound was generated on the ventral vein side of each ear using a stainless-steel punch. Immediately following bleeding intensity evaluation, the TA-coated gauze and untreated gauze (2 2 cm 2, wet with 1.0 mL of 0.9% saline solution) were placed directly on the injury and the hemostasis time was recorded. The wound healing model was repeated 5 times on different rabbits and an average time for hemostasis was recorded. Statistical Analysis Data points are expressed as mean ± standard deviation. Differences between means were analyzed for statistical significance using Student's t-test or one-way ANOVA. p values < 0.05 were considered significant. TA Coating and Model Protein Adsorption The TA coating, assembled as chelated complexes of TA and Fe 3+ ions, was first prepared on a quartz/silicon slide for the quantitative characterization of the physiochemical properties. The thicknesses of TA coating grew almost linearly with the increasing deposition cycles as evaluated by ellipsometry (Figure 1a), indicating the successful incorporation of TA on the slide. In addition, the average growth rate was~16 nm per cycle. In biomedical applications, the blood circulatory system would most likely be the first organ exposed to the biomaterial. During blood-biomaterial interactions, protein adsorption, as the first significant event, mediates the coagulation cascade process, including clotting and platelet adhesion, and finally leads to thrombosis. Therefore, a better understanding of the interactions between the TA coating and blood proteins may provide more information regarding fundamental biological research and further biomedical applications. To evaluate the protein adsorption on the TA coating, three model proteins varying in molecule size and isoelectric point (Table S1, Supplementary Materials) were employed. After incubation in the BSA-FITC, IgG-FITC, or Fgn-FITC solution, protein adsorption on the bare silicon was ignorable, whereas all the three proteins could be effectively adsorbed and homogeneously distributed on the TA coating with different cycles (Figure 1b). The adsorbed amount of Fgn onto the TA coating was the largest, while that of BSA was the smallest (Figure 1c). This difference in binding amount might be due to the difference in molecule size of each protein, as the larger proteins typically bind more strongly to the surface because of the larger contact area. In addition, the amount of protein adsorption increased with deposition cycles, and reached saturation on the third cycle (Figure 1c). To obtain deeper insight into the protein adsorption onto the TA coating, the thicknesses of adsorbed protein on the TA coating with 5 deposition cycles were further investigated by ellipsometry measurement (Figure 1d). At the adsorption plateau, the adsorbed thicknesses obtained for BSA, IgG, and Fgn were 6.7 ± 3.7, 12.9 ± 5.1, and 24.3 ± 7.2 nm (Figure 1d), respectively, showing a monolayer manner of protein adsorption compared to the three dimensions of the protein molecules (Table S1, Supplementary Materials) in the previous report. Proteins adsorb on biomaterial surfaces via multi-intermolecular forces, mainly ionic bonds, hydrophobic interactions and polar interactions. Protein adsorption onto the TA coating may be attributed to the fact that polyphenols have the ability to precipitate proteins via hydrophobic p-stacking (van der Waals) interactions and hydrogen bonds [3,7,. To study its stability and safety in the physiological environment, the TA coating on the quartz was dipped in the PBS containing 4 mg mL −1 of BSA at 37 C. After treatment for 100 h, the remaining TA coating was still up to 90% (Figure 2), showing the stability and low solubility of the TA coating over a long period. As a result, it can be concluded from Figure 2 that the TA coating has less soluble TA than raw TA powder. However, the mechanism of the small amount of TA loss remained unclear, although this was possibly due to competition of the salt ions in the PBS solution. Blood Protein Adsorption onto TA-Coated Gauze Medical gauze, with a larger surface area than the quartz/silicon slide, is commonly used as tourniquets and compressive bandages in pressure-based methods for bleeding control. After further modification with TA (Figure 3a), the color of the obtained TA-coated gauze turned from the original white to black (Figure 3b-e). SEM images show that with the increasing deposition cycles (Figure 3b-e), the granular structure on the surface of TA-coated gauze was more abundant (Figure 3e) and TA-coated gauze had a high surface area, indicating the successful formation of TA coating on the gauze. Plasma protein adsorbed on the tested materials was treated with SDS solution, and the resulting eluent was semi-quantitatively analyzed with SDS-PAGE (Figure 4a). Proteins with different molecular weights could be easily separated with SDS-PAGE, and therefore this technique was able to provide visual evidence of selective adsorption of the tested materials. Figure 4a shows the amount of plasma protein adsorbed on TA-coated gauzes (Figure 4a, lane 4-6) was much larger than that on the untreated gauze (Figure 4a, lane 3), and was significantly enhanced with the increasing deposition cycles of TA coating (Figure 4a), attributed to the hydrophobic interaction and hydrogen-bond interaction as mentioned above. The major proteins adhering to the TA-coated gauze were the most abundant protein in blood serum, albumin, and the high molecular weight protein Fgn, implying that the concentrations in plasma and size of the proteins may play critical roles in determining adsorption capacity. Coagulation is the culmination of a series of reactions, ultimately resulting in the thrombincatalyzed transformation of fibrinogen into an insoluble fibrin clot ; therefore, the absorbed amount of fibrinogen obtained in response to a plasma-contacting material is often used as an evaluation of coagulation activation. The native fibrinogen, composed of,, and chains, resolves at 64, 55, and 50 kDa, respectively, and thus native fibrinogen will be degenerated and dissociated under the SDS washing condition. As a result, only the Fgn- chain faint traces can be seen at this level for the desorbed sample, even when the gel is clearly overstained. In studying the absorbed amount of fibrinogen on the gauze, we found the Fgn- chain absorbed on the TA-coated gauze was greater than that on the unmodified gauze (Figure 4b), and was enhanced along with the increasing deposition cycles. This finding suggested that TA coating with 5 cycles had the most absorbed amount of fibrinogen, probably due to the abundant TA and the high surface area (Figure 3e). Hemostasis Performance of TA-Coated Gauze The hemolytic rate serves as another important factor for characterizing the blood compatibility of a biomaterial and reflects the level of free hemoglobin present in plasma after exposure to the biomaterial. Based on the hemolytic rate, biomaterials are classified as non-hemolytic (0-2% hemolysis), slightly hemolytic (2-5% hemolysis), or hemolytic (>5% hemolysis). Figure 5a shows that the hemolytic rate of the medical gauze was less than 2% and it was thus regarded as a non-hemolytic material, whereas the TA-coated gauzes with a hemolytic rate of~3.5% were regarded as slightly hemolytic materials. Whole blood is used to determine clotting time and to provide information on the thrombogenicity and pro-coagulative activity of a biomaterial. As clotting occurs, more red blood cells are retained in the clot, and therefore less hemoglobin is released by lysis upon the addition of distilled water. After incubation of the TA-coated gauze with blood, the released hemoglobin concentration began to decline, and this decline was much steeper than that with untreated gauze (Figure 5b), indicating that more thrombogen appeared on the TA-coated gauze. After incubation for 25 min, the absorbance of hemoglobin solution dropped to about 0.1 (Figure 5b), implying the blood incubated with either the unmodified gauze or the TA-coated gauze had completely clotted. In addition, the plasma recalcification profiles showed the clotting time of the TA-coated gauze was clearly shorter compared to that of the gauze (Figure 5c). We found that the clotting time of TA 3 -gauze and TA 5 -gauze was almost the same (15 min, Figure 5c). This may be due to the fact that the TA coating above 3 depositional cycles achieved full coverage on the surface of the substrate. These results demonstrated that the TA coating, especially with multilayers, could act as a hemostatic dressing to control bleeding. Animal Wound Healing Model To investigate whether the TA coating could stop bleeding in live animals, we conducted tests with animal wound models. The above experiments had verified that the TA 5 coating had an excellent coagulation effect on the large adsorption of clotting-related fibrinogen and a short clotting time, and therefore the TA 5 coating was chosen to further test with animal wound models. After creating a wound to the base vein of the rabbit ear, the TA-coated gauze with 5 deposition cycles was applied to the wound as the hemostatic dressing (Figure 6a). Compared to 133.3 ± 5.8 s of hemostasis time for untreated gauze, the hemostasis time of the TA-coated gauze shortened to 45.7 ± 3.8 s (Figure 6b). We speculate that the highly effective hemostasis performance of the TA coating can be mainly attributed to the fact that the TA coating absorbs a large number of proteins when in contact with blood, especially fibrinogen, which is then converted to fibrin to further induce blood coagulation catalyzed by thrombin. The local absorbed protein may also help to localize clotting factors (possibly thrombin) from the bloodstream in the vicinity of the wound, and thereby enhance the natural clotting action. Moreover, the slight hemolysis mediated by the TA coating may play an important role in the coagulation systems. Tannic acid powder, as a small molecule, can penetrate into the body through the wound, presenting toxicity to the human body. In contrast, the self-assembled TA coating crosslinked with Fe ions can be regarded as a supramolecular material. The TA coating has less solubility of TA in the physiological environment than raw TA powder (Figure 2), and thus the TA coating would be much safer than the soluble TA powder. Based on the above results, this novel coating possessed good hemostasis performance as a wound dressing for treating a bleeding wound compared with the traditional medical gauze. In addition, because the TA coating is a simple, low-cost, environmentally friendly and versatile strategy for constructing a coagulation surface on the gauze, and various other substrates, it has potential as a hemostatic dressing for use in commercial applications. Conclusions In this work, we demonstrated that the metal-organic chelated TA coating exhibited superior hemostasis performance compared with the medical gauze. This may be attributed to slight hemolysis mediated by the TA coating and a large amount of protein absorption on the TA coating-especially fibrinogen which would be converted to fibrin to further induce blood coagulation catalyzed by thrombin. This TA coating is economic, environmentally friendly and flexible, and holds potential for medical applications in the preparation of novel hemostasis materials. Supplementary Materials: The following are available online at http://www.mdpi.com/1996-1944/12/11/1803/s1, Table S1: Physicochemical properties of the three model proteins and their coupling efficiency with FITC, Figure S1: Absorption spectrum of three FITC labeled proteins, Figure S2: Fluorescence intensity of model protein adsorption on the TA-silicon slide.

Her Stars may be burning everbrighter, but for a local girl like Amy Millan, it just doesn't get much better than this. The singer-songwriter is playing Massey Hall next Friday, when she will handle opening duties for Ron Sexsmith. "I grew up in Toronto, so the magic of Massey Hall has kept me on my toes for the last couple of months," Millan says. "It is going to be a huge excitement for me. I love Ron, and I've just been a huge fan for a long time." Or maybe Millan – who joined the solo artist circle with her album Honey from the Tombs last summer – is just happy to be home. These days, most of her time has been spent jetting around the country – she spent six weeks in Vancouver recording the new Stars album, followed by a six-day pit stop in Montreal. "(The recording) is great. We're all finished tracking, so we're getting ready to mix the record here with a fella called Joe Chiccarelli, who's fantastic, and then we let it hit the streets in September." The new record is going to be called In Our Bedroom After The War, and Millan figures the band will be touring for much of the year after it comes out. But before living on the bus, she's got a string of Ontario dates and then a bunch of stops on the folk festival circuit – which she says was her Machiavellian motive all along. "That was my whole plan putting out the record, so I could do folk festivals for the rest of my life," she says. "They didn't really fit into the Stars business," Millan adds. "I like to do rock festivals, but my first time going to a folk festival was the Edmonton Folk Festival. (Sibling musicians) Jenny Whiteley and Dan Whiteley were playing there and I got a `kin pass' – which is what you get if you are friends or related to the band – so it was exactly like being an artist. There's dogs and children, it's a great atmosphere, and this year I'm going to go to the Yukon for the first time. I'm playing at Dawson City, which is really incredible." Dan Whiteley remains a friend and is featured prominently on her record – which is comprised of seven people, bigger than Stars, a bit ironic when you consider it's a solo venture.. But Millan is pretty forthright about the supposed differences between being a solo artist and her day gig in a band. "These are the spins that the press does, like this being a side project," she says. "It's all these sorts of terms that people use to try to understand what it is – but really, it's all just art. "People don't say, `Oh, I had a kid and now I'm having a side-kid.' You know what I mean? It's my side-child that I don't love as much as my first child. But it doesn't work like that, in our mind. We're just making music." She adds, "Like the idea of it being a solo project ... I play with, like, seven people, so this idea that it's a solo project is so far from the truth. "It's my name, because I'm the person responsible for writing the songs, but it takes a village to make a record. It takes a lot of people and we're just lucky enough to be surrounded by a community of fantastic musicians." Millan says she's firmly focused on the Stars until probably next summer, when she plans to record her next solo record. She has about nine or 10 songs already set, and two of them – "Bury This" and "Low Sale" – are already part of her live repertoire.

William J. Flynn Personal life Flynn was born in New York City and began his government career in 1897, after receiving a public school education. Early career Flynn began his career as a Manhattan plumber. His first law enforcement job was as an agent in the United States Secret Service. He spent many years combating counterfeiting, which led to his investigation and arrests of Black Hand extortionists and members of the American mafia, many of them associated with the Morello crime family. Flynn collaborated with New York Police Department Detective Giuseppe "Joe" Petrosino, who was murdered in 1909 in Palermo, Sicily, where he was tracing the backgrounds of the gangsters plaguing New York City. Petrosino's murder was never officially solved, but the author and historian Mike Dash implicates the likely gunman and his accomplice and says there is little doubt that Giuseppe Morello was behind it. Flynn and his operatives built the case that culminated in the 1910 convictions of Morello and his associates and their imprisonment in Atlanta Federal Prison. Flynn gained recognition in 1911, when he successfully reorganized the New York City detective force. He later returned to the Secret Service as Chief (1912–1917). During World War I, he served as Chief of the United States Railroad Administration's Secret Service, investigating threats of sabotage. BOI career In 1919, Flynn was named director of the Bureau of Investigation. Attorney General Palmer praised his new appointee as "the leading, organizing detective of America...Flynn is an anarchist chaser...the greatest anarchist expert in the United States." In one of Flynn's high-profile incidents, one of his operatives who was trailing the German diplomat Dr. Heinrich Albert on a streetcar, snatched Albert's briefcase, which contained sensitive documents. The papers documented Albert's having spent $27 million to build up a spy network in the United States, using German money to fund dock strikes, attacks on shipping, and bombs planted in munitions plants. Resignation Flynn's hard-line approach to counterespionage and his scaremongering public statements meant to rouse the US to the threat of German espionage angered the German and Irish communities, and eroded Flynn's support in Washington, ending in his resignation. After resigning, Flynn "accepted a sinecure as head of the Federal Railway Administration Police". Reinstatement and replacement Two years after leaving the Secret Service, in the wake of concerted terrorist action, including a bomb that "shook the home of A. Mitchell Palmer, the attorney general of the United States, virtually demolishing it", Palmer "dedicated his Department of Justice to tracking down the men responsible". He appointed Flynn director of the Bureau of Investigation. Flynn took charge of hunting down the bombers and assigned "an ambitious Justice Department clerk by the name of J. Edgar Hoover" to monitor suspected radicals. Through painstaking work, Flynn's team identified the likely suspects. However, they were unable to obtain the type of evidence that would stand up in court. Public opinion turned against the bureau, as the public wanted arrests, and Hoover launched a series of "Palmer Raids" that became a public relations nightmare. These events resulted in low morale among Flynn's staff, and the new Harding Administration replaced Flynn with William J. Burns. Semi-retirement After his forced retirement, Flynn went into business for himself. He founded a New York detective agency with his daughter Veronica and son Elmer as partners, which generated some income. However, according to Dash, the partnership was unsuccessful and contributed to the business's ultimate demise: Veronica and Elmer "were running the detective business into the ground. Both heavy drinkers, they overspent and upset clients. The pair's increasingly erratic behavior distressed their more abstemious father, and the worry weakened him." Flynn earned the bulk of his income, at that point, from writing. He had occasionally contributed articles, typically about his greatest cases, to such journals as The New York Herald and The Washington Post since 1911. After retiring, he worked briefly as a crime novelist. Flynn also became a scenario writer for the motion picture industry through his acquaintance with the actor King Baggot who, Dash notes, was considered the greatest film star in the country at that time in 1912. The producers Theodore and Leopold Wharton commissioned him to write story lines for their films, including The Perils of Pauline, and eventually adapted Flynn's experiences into a 20-part spy thriller titled The Eagle's Eye (1918), starring Baggot. An associated book was published, entitled The Eagle's Eye: A True Story of the Imperial German Government's Spies and Intrigues in America from Facts Furnished by William J. Flynn, Recently Retired Chief of the U.S. Secret Service. He also edited a magazine which bore his name, Flynn's Weekly Detective Fiction, and became the longest-running, most successful journal of its genre. After Flynn's death, the periodical was temporarily renamed Detective Fiction Weekly (formerly Flynn's) before resuming its original title; the periodical published a total of 703 issues. Death Flynn died at age 60 of heart disease in October 1928, in Larchmont, New York. He is buried in a family plot in Valhalla, New York.

ENVISAT AND THE ICE CONDITIONS IN THE BALTIC SEA In this paper the Finnish ENVISAT CAL/VALproject as well as some results obtained in the project will be presented. The project has three major objectives. One objective is to implement an operational data processing chain, the other is to analyze the effect of dierent ice properties on the SAR signature and its statistics mainly through empirical backscatter studies, and the third is to develop an automated image interpretation system for sea ice mapping.

Structural evolution and mechanism of strain glass transition in Ti48.7Ni51.3 shape memory alloy studied by anomalous small-angle X-ray scattering The in-situ anomalous small-angle X-ray scattering (ASAXS) technique was used to investigate the strain glass transition (SGT) in as-quenched Ti48.7Ni51.3 shape memory alloy during a thermal cycle of 30°C to the SGT temperature Tg (−50°C) and then to 30°C again. The Ni atoms play a critical role as point defects in the SGT mechanism and are very difficult to characterize using conventional tools. ASAXS identified the distribution of Ni atoms in nanodomains, which have a disk-like coreshell configuration with a Ni-rich shell and a highly Ni-rich core. Moreover, the morphological evolution, growth and shrinkage of the highly Ni-rich core domains during the thermal cycle through Tg are demonstrated. The enhancement and reversible behavior of the local lamellar ordering arrangement of nanodomains during the SGT process at Tg are revealed. The structural evolution and local ordering arrangement of nanodomains can play a role in hindering martensitic transformation. The ASAXS results provide new knowledge about the SGT beyond that from current simulation works. However, this corresponding structure of the nanodomains was destroyed when the specimen was heated to 250°C. Results temperature-dependent ASAXS measurement of the as-quenched ti 48.7 ni 51.3 SMA. Figure 1 (a)(a'), (b)(b'), (c)(c') and (d)(d') show the results of the temperature-dependent 2D ASAXS patterns of the as-quenched Ti 48.7 Ni 51.3 SMA measured using 8000 eV and 8226 eV at 30 °C, −50 °C (at T g ), 30 °C (end of cycle) and 250 °C (aging), respectively. The radial streaks in the 2D ASAXS patterns shown in Fig. 1 provide direct evidence of the plate-/disk-like morphology of the nanodomains 17,28,. The corresponding 1D ASAXS profiles are shown in Fig. 2. In that figure, the power-law scattering behavior (I(Q) ∝ Q −2 ) in the middle Q range (0.02-0.06 −1 ) of the ASAXS profiles also reveals direct evidence that the nanodomains are plate-/disk-like in shape 26. The power-law scattering behavior of the exponent of −4 in the low Q range (0.003-0.009 −1 ) is contributed by the very large particles (surface scattering), which are beyond the scope of this study 26. Also in Fig. 2, one can find that the 1D ASAXS profiles measured at different energies for the same temperature have similar profile shapes, except for some small peaks (i.e., structure peaks) only appearing in the ASAXS profiles measured at 8000 eV. Unlike the 1D ASAXS profiles without the structure peaks measured at 8226 eV (near the absorption edge of Ni), the structure peaks in the profiles measured at 8000 eV were apparently induced by Ni atoms in the nanodomains and thus provide evidence of Ni-rich nanodomains. These small structure peaks in the 8000 eV profiles could not be measured by the in-house SAXS instrument because its incident X-ray intensity was much lower than that of synchrotron X-ray radiation. On the other hand, Fig. 2 also indicates that two ASAXS profiles measured at two different energies substantially demonstrated a slight discrepancy between them, suggesting that the nanodomains were comprised of two components, a Ni-rich component and a highly Ni-rich component, in contrast to the Ti-Ni matrix. The present study further characterized the nanodomains to have a two-component structure by two approaches as follows. Structural characterization of core-shell disk domains in the as-quenched sample by ASAXS Model fitting of ASAXS intensities measured at two X-ray energies. The first proposed method of model fitting is called approach I here. The X-ray scattering amplitude (or length) of an atom, f(E), can be expressed by www.nature.com/scientificreports www.nature.com/scientificreports/ where Z is the atomic number and f(E) is a complex number. The anomalous dispersion correction terms f and f are significant only near the absorption edge. The real part, Z + f, is related to the coherent scattering. The imaginary part, f, is related to the absorption. The real and imaginary parts of the scattering length of Ni and Ti atoms as a function of incident X-ray energy E are shown in Fig. 3. Thereafter, the scattering length density of each phase, including the matrix and the Ni-rich and highly Ni-rich components in the nanodomains, can be obtained by dividing the average scattering length by the average atomic volume within the phase 27 : where X i is the fraction of the atom i and is the average atomic volume. The difference (or contrast) between the component phase and the matrix phase is given by 27 where C i p and C i m are the concentrations of element i in the component p and the matrix m, respectively. can be assumed to be identical in the component phase and matrix. Therefore, the ASAXS profile measured at 8226 eV can be modelled by 4 2 where A is a constant describing the smooth surface of a large particle, denotes the scattering length density contrast between the nanodomains and the matrix, and P(Q) is the form factor of the nanodomains. S(Q) is the structure factor describing the interaction between the nanodomains and signifying a kind of ordered arrangement of nanodomains. S(Q) exhibits the form of several discrete small peaks whose amplitude of intensity is strongly affected by the incident X-ray energy or scattering contrast here. The form factor of the polydispersed disk-like nanodomains with a radius R and a Schulz distribution of thickness t can be given by : where and V p are the volume fraction and the particle volume, respectively, and j 0 and j 1 are the zero-order Bessel function and the first-order Bessel function, respectively. The integral over averages the form factor over all possible orientations of the disks with respect to Q. f(t) is the normalized Schulz distribution of the thickness, in which the polydispersity of the thickness is related to /t avg, where is the variance of the Schulz distribution and t avg is the mean thickness. Generally, S(Q) can be approximately 1.0 within the region outside the discrete peak. In the present study, the intensities of discrete small peaks of the structure factor S(Q) are much weaker than the form factor, so the model fitting of ASAXS profiles using Eq. can ignore the discrete contribution of small structure peaks (let S(Q) = 1 for the full profile), unlike the continuous profile. The ASAXS profiles measured at different energies for all temperatures can be fitted well with Eq., as shown by the solid curves in Fig. 2. The structure parameters determined by approach I are listed in Table 1. The determined polydispersity parameter is less than 0.05, showing the monodispersed system. There are certain uncertainties in model fitting. According to Table 1, the determined thicknesses of the nanodomains for different energies are almost the same for each temperature. However, the values of the determined radii at 8000 eV for 30 °C, −50 °C and 30 °C again are larger than those determined at 8226 eV by a factor of ~2 nm. Therefore, based on this ASAXS analysis www.nature.com/scientificreports www.nature.com/scientificreports/ result, we can propose that the structure model of a nanodomain is a core-shell disk. The disk-like core-shell nanodomain is comprised of a highly Ni-rich disk as the core and a Ni-rich shell around it, as shown in Fig. 4. The shell thickness (the difference in radii of the inner disk and outer disk) for each temperature is ~2 nm. This thickness can be explained by the fact that the 8000 eV beam can "see" the morphology of the full core-shell disk, while the 8226 eV beam can only "see" the morphology of the core (highly Ni-rich domain). The difference between the determined structures is the shell (Ni-rich domain). Further explanation of this model fitting method is provided as follows. The form factor of the nanodomains, Eq., can be alternatively expressed by the following equation. where ∆ c 2 and P Q ( ) c are the scattering contrast and the associated form factor of the core domain, respectively; ∆ s 2 and P Q ( ) s are the scattering contrast and the associated form factor of the shell domain, respectively. As illustrated in Fig. 3, when the incident 8000 eV energy is switched to 8226 eV energy, f Ni can be reduced by 4% and approach the value of f Ti. Meanwhile, the f Ni and f Ti (including f Ti and f Ti ) values remain unchanged. The Ni concentrations, C Ni and X Ni, in the core domain are much higher than that in the shell domain. According to Eqs. and, the scattering length density of the shell phase is much lower than that of the core phase. Therefore, ∆ s 2 of Eq. can be very small and be relatively neglected compared to the c 2 value, providing the explanation of why the incident 8226 eV energy only "sees" the core part. Model fitting of difference between ASAXS intensities measured at two X-ray energies The present study also adopted another approach, approach II, for cross-checking the above proposed approach I. Because the different incident energies can change the atomic scattering length f, Eq. can be expanded into the following equations: where I Q E (, ) 1 and I Q E (, ) 2 are the ASAXS scattering profiles at E 1 (8000 eV) and E 2 (8226 eV), respectively... and P Q ( ) i are the scattering length density contrast and form factor of the domain i at the incident energy j, respectively. The subscripts H-Ni and Ni denote highly Ni-rich and Ni-rich, respectively. The atomic fraction of Ni in the Ni-rich shell can be regarded as only slightly higher than that of the matrix compared to the highly Ni-rich domains. The scattering contrasts of the Ni-rich domains for both energies may be approximately the same relative to those of highly Ni-rich domains. The scattering contrasts of highly Ni-rich domains for both energies are also significantly different. Therefore, the difference between the ASAXS profiles measured at E 1 (8000 eV) and E 2 (8226 eV) can be expressed as According to Eq., the difference between the ASAXS profiles measured at E 1 and E 2 can be considered to be mainly contributed only by highly Ni-rich domains or by net scattering of the highly Ni-rich domains. This concept, exhibited in Eq., has frequently been adopted in ASAXS analysis and is described in the literature. Approach II adopts the core-shell form factor model 26 to directly fit the difference between the ASAXS profiles measured at 8000 eV and 8226 eV shown in Fig. 5, which is fitted well. The structure parameters determined by approach II are listed in Table 2. Pair distance distribution function (PDDF) or DDF is a model-independent method to check the results obtained from the above model-fitting methods. The DDF, P(r), describing the real space of nanodomains can be directly calculated from the inverse Fourier transformation of the SAXS or ASAXS data according to The P(r) functions corresponding to the SAXS profiles measured at 8000 eV for 30 °C, −50 °C and 30 °C again are shown in Fig. 6(a). The P(r) functions corresponding to the ASAXS profiles measured at 8226 eV for 30 °C, −50 °C and 30 °C again are shown in Fig. 6(b). The comparison of P(r) functions measured at two energies for 30 °C, −50 °C and 30 °C again are shown in Fig. 6(c-e), respectively. The typical curve of P(r) for a disk-like particle shows two characteristics: The maximum r position corresponds to the diameter of this particle, and the peak position of P(r) is close to but less than the radius of this particle 43. According to Fig. 6(a,b), for either 8000 eV or 8226 eV, the maximum r positions (domain diameter) of P(r) for 30 °C, −50 °C and 30 °C again are located at ~ 60 nm, 65 nm and ~60 nm, respectively, being roughly consistent with the model-fitting result of approach I in Table 1. The variation trend of domain size with temperature is the same for all used methods. The area-averaged peak (roughly close to the domain radius) of P(r) for 30 °C, −50 °C and 30 °C again are located at ~ 28 nm, 30 nm and ~28 nm, respectively, also showing the same relative trend. According to Fig. 6(c-e), the area-weighted peak position of 8000 eV is higher than that of 8226 eV for each temperature, showing the evidence of core-shell structure. Structural transition and ordering behavior revealed by the in-situ ASAXS structure factor under the thermal cycle. The morphological characterization and evolution of the core-shell nanodomains during the thermal cycle are revealed by the form factor analysis of ASAXS profiles in the previous sections. This morphological evolution should be closely related to the movement of Ni atoms governed by temperature change. This behavior of Ni atomic movement into/out of the nanodomain core can be independently evidenced by the change in height of the structure peaks (also called the structure factor) within the ASAXS profiles shown in Fig. 2. Basically, the structure factor results from the interaction between domains or the spatial arrangement of 26,42. These relatively weak structure peaks are marked in detail by the arrows shown in Fig. 7 and do not appear in the SAXS profiles measured by the in-house X-ray instrument 17. This difference can be attributed to the high resolution and high intensity of synchrotron X-ray radiation. The small structure peaks caused by the spatial arrangement of the concentrated Ni-rich domains are easily self-attenuated in the bulk sample, leading to difficulty in detection. These structure peaks are also detected in the form of bright spots in the radial streaks of the 2D ASAXS patterns, as marked in Fig. 1(e) (e'). The relative positions of these structure peaks of the as-quenched TiNi sample reveal the relationship of integer times. The n th order peak follows the first order peak with a rough position ratio of 1: 2: 3: 4: : n. For example, from Fig. 7, the position of the first order peak for group A is 0.007 −1, that of the second order peak is 0.014 −1, and so on. This relationship agrees with the prediction of the structure factor of concentrated lamellar stacks with periodic distance 44,45. According to the general concept of the ordered lamellar structure, the average distance between lamellae (or plates) D can be approximated by D = 2/Q 1. Here, the Q 1 value is the peak position of the first-order peak. Therefore, it can be proposed that the several plate-like nanodomains construct an ordered arrangement with equal spacing (like the structure of lamellar stacks). Discussion The ASAXS profiles shown in Fig. 2 could be fitted by two possible form-factor models. One is the disk form factor to depict the whole disk of the nanodomain, comprising the shell and core components, at 8000 eV and only the core component at 8226 eV, followed by constructing the real morphology with a Ni-rich shell and highly Ni-rich core, denoted by approach I. The other is the form factor of the core-shell disk model 26,42,46 with two scattering contrast values directly fitting the profile resulting from the difference between the ASAXS profiles at 8000 eV and at 8226 eV, denoted by approach II. Both single disk and core-shell form factors can fit well the continuous scattering profiles under ignorance of S(Q), as shown in Figs. 2 and 5. The corresponding structure parameters determined by approach I and approach II, shown in Tables 1 and 2, respectively, are close to each other. The core radius R c and thickness t c of core-disk nanodomains determined by approach II grew from R c = 29.2 nm and t c = 2.6 nm at 30 °C to be 32.0 nm and 4.0 nm, respectively, when the irradiated sample was cooled down to −50 °C (at T g ). Moreover, the R c and t c of core-disk nanodomains shrank to 29.6 nm and 3.0 nm, respectively, when the irradiated sample was subsequently heated to 30 °C. The shell thickness under the thermal cycle (30 °C → −50 °C → 30 °C end) remained at about 2 nm. The fitted radius (~26 nm) of nanodomains in our previous SAXS result 17 was less than that (~ 30 nm) of this synchrotron ASAXS analysis. The discrepancy is attributed to the Q min of the Q range in this ASAXS study having a much lower value and accounts for the greater power-law scattering intensity than that of the SAXS data of the previous SAXS measurement. If the fitted ASAXS data had been limited to a short Q range and had no power-law model fitting, we would have had the same fitting result as the previous result. In this study, we found that the morphological change (growth) of the highly Ni-rich domain www.nature.com/scientificreports www.nature.com/scientificreports/ (core part) occurs when the sample is cooled from 30 °C towards T g. This morphological change is reversible in the sample heated back to 30 °C. Notably, the structural evolution and then the reversible behavior of the highly Ni-rich disk nanodomains exhibited in as-quenched Ti 48.7 Ni 51.3 SMA during this thermal cycle of 30 °C → −50 °C (~ T g ) → 30 °C (end) are evidenced in this ASAXS study for the first time. This behavior has never been mentioned in the existing theory, in which the strain-glass transition is proposed to arise from the growth of the strain field in the matrix based on the assumption of a uniformly unchanged distribution of Ni point defects 2,4,8. As mentioned above, the model constructed from the combination of the ASAXS profiles measured at 8000 eV and 8226 eV, and that constructed directly from the difference in ASAXS profiles measured with different energies, can both substantially reflect the characteristics of the highly Ni-rich part. According to Fig. 7(a), the structure peaks revealing the lamellar stacks and the spatially ordered arrangement with equal spacing in the as-quenched sample could be divided into three groups, denoted by A, B, and C. The spots in the streaks of the 2D ASAXS patterns show that they originate from differently-oriented grains. The Q 1 values of groups A, B and C are 0.007 −1, 0.009 −1 and 0.01 −1, respectively. The corresponding spacing D for groups A, B and C (D = 2/Q 1 ) can be determined to be 897, 698 and 628, respectively. As shown in Fig. 7, each group has several structure peaks, e.g., A1, A2,, demonstrating the characteristic of the highly ordered packing of the nanodomains. The observed first-order peaks (in logarithm scale) are not sharp because they are located in the high background contributed by the form factor. The spatially ordered lamellar arrangement of nanodomains may be formed during the quenching process and could be closely related to the critical Ni composition. More interestingly, when the temperature is cooled to T g, as shown in Fig. 7(b), the intensities of the first-and second-order structure peaks of each group largely increase and become sharp in shape, which can be attributed in theory to the increase in the scattering length density contrast of the core domain as well as the number of the ordered lamellae. The increase in of the core domain may be caused by the short-range movement of Ni atoms into the core domain, which is consistent with the morphological growth of the core domain at T g (determined by the form factor in the previous sections). This local action may enhance the number of the "seen" (by contrast) nanodomains in the ordering arrangement based on the assumption that the total number of nanodomains during the thermal cycle is not changed. This kind of local Ni movement and ordering arrangement of nanodomains occurs quickly in the in-situ ASAXS measurement during the thermal cycle. Therefore, the kinetics of Ni movement and the core-domain growth at T g are fast. It can be speculated that the driving force of structural transition is not classical thermal diffusion. The driving force may be the free energy and could be similar to that of the formation of the spinodal decomposition, which has the characteristic of fast movement from a low concentration to a high concentration 47,48. The mechanistic origin and the driving force are still not known and need to be further investigated. www.nature.com/scientificreports www.nature.com/scientificreports/ When the temperature returns from −50 °C (~T g ) to 30 °C, except for in group B, the structure peaks of the other groups become weak in intensity and less in number (Fig. 7(c)), showing the phenomenon that Ni atoms move out of the nanodomains and the number of the "seen" (by contrast) nanodomains in the ordered arrangement decreases. The structural evolution of the strain glass transition appears be possibly reversible with heating to 30 °C, but the material cannot return to its original state. The thermal effect on nanodomains at a higher temperature of 250 °C causes almost all of the structure factor peaks to disappear (Fig. 7(d)), signifying that a large number of Ni atoms move out from the nanodomains and thus cause the loss of ordering arrangement or lamellar stacks. The large amount of Ni atoms thermally diffusing in the matrix could serve as the source of the precipitation at high temperature, according to the classical mechanism of nucleation and growth. The form factor analysis in the previous sections consistently shows that the nanodomain rapidly grows in radius and thickness, as shown in Table 1. The precipitation of Ti 48.7 Ni 51.3 SMA at the annealing temperature of 250 °C was quantitatively reported in our previous study 17. From this study, one can find that, for as-quenched Ti 48.7 Ni 51.3 SMA, the structural evolution mechanism (ordering array of nanodomains) between 30 °C and −50 °C (T g ) is entirely different from the precipitation mechanism exhibited at 250 °C. conclusions Synchrotron in-situ ASAXS study provides new mechanistic and structural knowledge about the strain glass transition exhibited in as-quenched Ti 48.7 Ni 51.3 SMA. Past simulations and phenomenological models proposed that the induced SRO strain in the glass state was due to the statically-disordered strain domains in the bulk material, based on the assumption that randomly-distributed Ni point defects were fixed in position during strain glass transition. Our ASAXS study provides evidence that Ni point defects concentrate in well-defined nanodomains, with a disk-like core-shell structure consisting of a highly Ni-rich core and a Ni-rich shell in as-quenched Ti 48.7 Ni 51.3 SMA. In addition, at 30 °C, these disk-like nanodomains are locally ordered with a spatially lamellar arrangement. When the temperature decreases to T g, some Ni point defects in the matrix move a short distance into the nanodomains to enlarge the size of the highly Ni-rich core and enhance the ordered structure of the local lamellar arrangement with increased numbers. When the temperature rises back to 30 °C, the morphological evolution of the highly Ni-rich core domains with temperature reveals reversible growth and shrinkage. At 250 °C, the nanodomains grow but lose the corresponding lamellar structure, and precipitation occurs. For as-quenched Ti 48.7 Ni 51.3 SMA, the phase separation mechanism in the range of 30 °C to −50 °C (T g ) is entirely different from the precipitation mechanism exhibited at 250 °C. The ASAXS patterns measured with the near Ni adsorption edge energy demonstrate the structure peaks, signifying the local order arrangement between nanodomains and the associated variation with T g during thermal cycle. This new finding can be regarded to be an experimental breakthrough compared to the current SAXS, SANS and microscopic tools. Therefore, the similar hindrance effect on LRO or the formation of SRO at T g proposed by simulation works may be closely related to the enhancement of the local lamellar or ordering array as well as the morphological variation of the nanodomains. experimental procedures A Ti 48.7 Ni 51.3 ingot was prepared in a vacuum arc remelter. The raw materials, titanium (99.99 wt.%) and nickel (99.99 wt.%), were melted six times in high-purity argon atmosphere. The ingot was then hot rolled at 900 °C into a plate of ~2 mm thickness. The plate was subsequently solid-solution treated at 900 °C for 1 h, followed by water-quenching. The grain size in as-quenched Ti 48.7 Ni 51.3 specimens is measured by ASTM E112-88 standard to be 80 ± 15 m. The specimens for the following ASAXS measurements were cut to a size of 10 10 0.5 mm 3 and ground to a thickness of ~40 m so that two or more grains would be contained in the thickness direction. The detailed information on the sample preparations and the experiment conditions can be seen in our previous study 17. In-situ ASAXS measurements were conducted at the BL23A beamline, National Synchrotron Radiation Research Center, Taiwan, with a high-flux collimated X-ray beam of ~500 m in diameter. The temperature-dependent ASAXS measurement was performed with two incident energies of 8000 eV and 8226 eV, which are the far and near absorption K-edge energies of Ni, respectively, for each temperature. The measurements were carried out to investigate the evolution of the Ni-rich nanodomains with temperature and the spatial distribution of Ni atoms in the corresponding Ni-rich nanodomains. The ASAXS measurement of the as-quenched Ti 48.7 Ni 51.3 SMA was performed in-situ first at 30 °C, then at the cooled temperature of −50 °C, and finally at the heated temperature of 30 °C again to complete one cyclic test. According to the results of the physical properties and the DMA tests in our previous study 17, a sample at −50 °C demonstrates the signs of strain glass transition. Moreover, a subsequent ASAXS measurement was performed at 250 °C after the specimen was aged at 250 °C for 20 min. Each 2D ASAXS pattern was collected for a period of 20 min. According to standard procedures of data reduction, calibration, and background correction, each pattern was azimuthally averaged into a 1D ASAXS profile as a function of the scattering vector Q = 4sin(/2)/, in which is the scattering angle and is the X-ray wavelength.

A proposed information systems framework for effective delivery of user research findings Integration of user research findings into product design process is a well-received issue. There is a tremendous research on how to conduct user research and methodologies for generating user data. However delivering that information effectively is as important as the quality of data generated through user research, since if it is not delivered effectively the impact that is demanded by the product developers would not be achieved. Therefore the requirements for the deliverables should be conceptualized before designing them, in order to have an effective integration. Thus the aim of this paper is to propose an information systems framework for effective delivery of user research findings to the product development team members. In this paper, a preliminary effort to construct this framework is made by retrieving the framework's constructs from the literature.

Q: Is it possible to breed crickets? Buying crickets every few days to feed to my bearded dragon gets expensive, and I hate going to the store. Is it possible for me to breed crickets? A: Yes, and it's actually really easy. You will need are two containers. A large container for the adults, and a smaller one for the babies. I use two plastic storage bins. You can fill the containers with torn up egg carton, which is what the stores use if you peek into their containers. Or even crumpled up newspapers. This gives the crickets places to grab onto and hide. It makes them feel safe, and keeps them safe from each other. Crickets will eat each other if they don't get other food first. So, it's important to keep plenty of food available. Since you're wanting to feed them to your reptile, take this opportunity to gut-load the crickets. You can make your own formula with vegetables and supplements, or use a commercial cricket food. I use Fluker's Cricket food (Both the orange food cubes and yellow thirst quencher) because it's incredibly convenient. When you purchase the crickets, you'll only need about 30 or so large crickets. Try to get as many females as possible, as at that size they will no longer be at the point where they will need males since female crickets store semen. Females can be identified by their ovipositor (the thing that looks kind of like a stinger) which is what they use to lay eggs in the ground. Here's a picture of a female cricket for reference: (Source) In the bigger storage bin, with the adult crickets, keep a small container of clean dirt for egg-laying. You can use topsoil, or I use Exo-Terra coconut bedding. Do not use potting soil because the additives can be harmful, and don't use dirt from outside, as it can have been exposed to chemicals and have parasites. Keep the dirt moist, so that any eggs laid do not dry out, and simply wait somewhere between one to two weeks for the crickets to finish laying their eggs. When you're ready to incubate the eggs, take the container of dirt, and move it over to the smaller storage bin. The point of separating the adults, and babies, is because the adults will eat the babies, and even eggs if they're left in there with them for long enough. Now, it's important to remember baby crickets are tiny. They're microscopic when they're first born, so you probably won't even notice that they've hatched at all. Leave some pieces of cricket food on, or near, the soil for them to find when they first hatch, that way they don't starve before you even see them. Also, since they are so tiny, they can climb up nearly anything. Their legs can fit in the imperfections of plastic, glass, and especially the silicon of fish tanks. It's best to put a strip of packing tape around the inside of the container, a few inches below the top. For whatever reason, the packing tape is smooth enough that they can't climb up it. Here's a poorly made picture of how the tape should go: (Source) It will take a couple weeks for the baby crickets to grow. But once your colony is established, it will grow like crazy. Each cricket lays about 30 eggs at a time. Put the container of dirt back into the large adult storage bin, so they can lay some more eggs, and if any crickets in the baby storage bin get to be about a half of an inch in length, you should move them over to the adult storage bin as well.

Metabolism of haem in Caco2 cells The haem oxygenase1biliverdin reductase system degrades haem and generates biliverdin and bilirubin, both of which possess antioxidant and antiinflammatory properties. Biliverdin and bilirubin are protective in intestinal injury models, but little is known about their generation and fate in the intestine. In the present work, an in vitro intestinal epithelial cell model, Caco2 cells, were exposed to haem from either the apical or the basolateral side, and bile pigment generation and transport were measured spectrophotometrically and with highpressure liquid chromatography. The Caco2 cells generated bilirubin and bilirubin glucuronides upon exposure to haem. Bilirubin appeared predominantly in the apical medium regardless of the side to which haem was applied. In contrast to an earlier report, significant bidirectional haem transport was not observed. We conclude that Caco2 cells metabolize haem and export its metabolic product, bilirubin, principally to the lumen, where it may exert antioxidant and antiinflammatory functions.

Characterization of motorcycle accident victims attended by the mobile emergency service (SAMU-192), Recife, Pernambuco State, Brazil This study described the epidemiological characteristics of victims of accidents involving motorcycles, attended by the Mobile Emergency Service (SAMU-192) in the city of Recife (PE) in 2006. This is a descriptive cross-sectional study that analyzed a sample of 703 cases. The results showed that 81.8% were male, aged 20 to 29 years. It was noted that 406 of them were wearing a helmet at the time of the accident. The accidents occurred most frequently on Sundays (19.3%) between 18:00 and 24:00 hours (0.28%). The extremities were the most affected body segment, with 341 occurrences. Regarding the severity of injuries, it was found that 37.6% were superficial or mild (scrapes, cuts and bruises). These results demonstrate the need for educational campaigns to encourage the use of personal protective equipment among motorcyclists. The best way to reduce the risks and damages from motorcycle accidents is through primary prevention. For this, are needed integrated intersectoral actions aimed at reducing the incidence and severity of injuries. Introduction The transport accidents and the resulting trauma represent an important public health problem worldwide. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), the land transport accidents account for about 25% of all deaths for external causes in the world. It is estimated that 1.2 million people in the world die each year victims of land transport accident, and 50 million people are wounded. The projections indicate that these numbers will increase by almost 65% over the next 20 years. In Brazil, the external causes represent not only the third cause of death in the general population, but also an important reason for admission by the Brazilian Acta Scientiarum. Health Sciences Maring, v. 34, Special Edition, p. 239-246, 2012 public health system -SUS (;). In 2003, the land transport accidents resulted in 33,620 deaths and 114,189 hospitalizations. The evolution of mortality rates from land transport accidents showed that the death rates by motorcycle accidents, which were close to zero during the 1980s, increased up to 4.0 per 100 thousand inhabitants for male (). A recent study analyzed the motorcycle accident deaths in the State of Pernambuco, and identified coefficients of death ranging from 5.66 to 11.66/100 thousand inhabitants per municipality (). Over the recent years, there has been a growing use of motorcycles due to their low maintenance and purchase cost when compared to automobiles; their agility and speed to cross the traffic congestions of urban roads, being utilized, mainly, in delivery services (ANDRADE; MELLO-JORGE, 2001). Currently, it is observed an inversion in the traffic accident patterns. Previously, there was a predominance of accidents involving automobiles, which is currently verified for motorcycles (OLIVEIRA; SOUSA, 2004). The motorcycles are pointed out as relatively unsafe vehicles, and the riders must be considered unprotected (ZAMBON;HASSELBERG, 2006). The risk of death of motorcyclists involved in accident is up to 34 times greater per km covered, when compared to occupants of motor vehicle, and the risk of being seriously injured is ten times greater (NHTSA, 2007, AARE;VON HOLST, 1999). Study carried out in Malaysia identified that the motorcyclists represented the main group of fatal victims in transport accidents on the roads of the country (). The motorcycling can be considered as a system including three elements: the machine (motorcycle), the environment (traffic conditions, roadway factors, meteorological conditions, among others) and the human (rider) (). There are many researches focused on the understanding of the first two elements, analyzing risks and the seriousness of accidents involving motorcycles caused by the traffic, road width, and luminosity; however few studies were conducted to recognize the human factors that influence the motorcycle safety (). The risk of accidents involving motorcycles is associated with demographic characteristics (age and gender), with the driving experience and the socioeconomic and cultural factors (ZAMBON;HASSELBERG, 2006). Studies carried out in Europe and Australia reveal that male during late adolescence are more prone to accidents; however the risk of accidents decreases with age (ZAMBON; HASSELBERG, 2006;HARRISON;CHRISTIE, 2005). Zambon and Hasselberg, analyzing socioeconomic differences among young motorcycle drivers (16 to 25 years) involved with accidents have identified that, at the age of 18, the individuals belonging to a lower socioeconomic class present a risk of 2.5-fold higher to suffer accidents when compared to a higher socioeconomic class. Harrison and Cristie found that older motorcyclists tend to use the motorcycle as recreation during the weekends, and this low frequency of utilization increases the risk of accidents. The trauma caused by injuries related to the motorcycle accidents is very extensive, expensive and is becoming even greater. Besides, the motorcycle accidents present a social and economic cost fairly high, not only by the number of premature deaths and hospitalizations, but also by the physical rehabilitation and the psychosocial consequences (MAYOU; BRYANT, 2003;). The qualified assistance at the accident scene, the safe transport and the fast arrival at the hospital are essential factors for the reduction of deaths by trauma (MARSON; THOMSON, 2001).The treatment established during the first hour 'golden hour' after the occurrence of the traumatic injury, is a decisive factor for the prognosis (LIBERMAN; ROUDSARI, 2007). So the assistance to the victim during this period of time demands an organized health service network, which involves the pre-hospital care articulated with hospitals of different levels of complexity (). With the purpose of offering early care to victims of traumatic injuries and their adequate transport to a health service hierarchically integrated to the SUS, the Brazilian Ministry of Health, through the Ordinance No. 1.864, created on September 29, 2003, the Mobile Emergency Care Service. In 2005, the SAMU-192 was already working in 784 municipalities of 25 States in the country, with 101 regulatory centers, acting with specialized staff, along with control centers of beds in the hospitals. The service is operated by teams consisting of doctors, nurses, and nursing technicians, assistants of medical regulations, teledigiphone operators and drivers, working 24h. In Recife, the SAMU-192 has available 18 ambulances; three of them possess mobile ICU. It attends approximately 1,300 calls a month. In 2006, was created the Metropolitan SAMU-192, a proposal for integrating the SAMU-192 of Recife and others from municipalities that form the Metropolitan Region. As a consequence, Recife became regulator of the Metropolitan SAMU-192. The present study intends to describe the epidemiological profile of victims of motorcycle accidents attended by Material and methods The study area covers the city of Recife, capital of the Pernambuco State, located in the Brazilian Northeast region. Its population consists of 1,533,580 inhabitants distributed in a surface area of 217 km 2. This is an epidemiological cross-sectional study, whose population was constituted by the victims of motorcycle accidents attended by the SAMU-192 from the city of Recife (Pernambuco State), during the period from July to December 2006. It was defined motorcycle accident as injury in motorcycle driver or passenger resulting from a collision, loss of control, impact, or other event involving a vehicle, object, or pedestrian (). In this way, were included in the study only the motorcycle accidents, in which the victims were involved as motorcyclist or passenger. In order to collect data, it was used a research form, which was based on the standard entry form of the register of occurrence filled by the SAMU-192 first aiders, containing information about the victims characteristics (gender and age range) and the circumstances of the accident (use of helmet, injury type and location, weekday and daytime of occurrence). The Abbreviated Injury Scale -AIS was proposed by the AAAM-Association for the Advancement of Automotive Medicine and specifically designed for coding various types of injuries and for their classification based on the severity. It consists of an assessment system, of anatomical basis that classifies each injury resulting from a trauma, by body region and establishes an ordinal scale of six points in agreement with the type and the severity of the trauma. The injuries can receive the following scores: 1 mild severity, 2 moderate, 3 severe without threats to life, 4 severe with threats to life, but with great probability of survival, 5 critical, with uncertain survival, and the 6 almost always fatal (GENNARI; KOIZUMI, 1995;). The AIS, by being a complex system (more than 2,000 descriptions of injuries make difficult its current usage, particularly when is desired to score the patient in an Emergency Unit), several authors idealized abbreviated or simplified instruments from the AIS manual (). Among these instruments, the Condensed Abbreviated Injury Scale (CAIS), elaborated by Civil and Schwab is the most developed. The CAIS, is a map organized into a single page with the descriptions of injuries separately for the six body regions according to the severity score AIS (). In this classification, the injury is considered: mild, moderate, severe without threats to life, severe with threats to life and critical, of uncertain survival. Pinto and Witt proposed an adaptation of CAIS, joining the severe injuries. In this study, injuries were classified according to the severity, in conformity with CAIS adaptation, made by Pinto and Witt, into three types: superficial are those which include the excoriations, cuts, contusions and all other injuries which do not implicate in incapacity or risk of life; the second type is composed by intermediaries injuries in which are included the limb fractures and other injuries that lead to temporary incapacity; and in the third group, are found the injuries which implicate in risk of life and permanent physical disability. In the present study was considered only the limb amputations as permanent physical disability, by the limited period of the study. The obtained data were coded, categorized and typed by double data entry in the software EpiInfo version 6.04d (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention -CDC, Atlanta, United States of America). The analyses were made in descriptive manner by frequency and relative frequency distribution, measures of central tendency and dispersion. The project was approved by the Research Ethics Committee of the University of Pernambuco (CAEE 0008.0.097.000-07). Results During the study period, were attended by the SAMU-192 of the city of Recife, 703 victims of motorcycle accidents. The Table 1 presents the characteristics of these motorcyclists. Of the total of attendances, 575 (81.8%) were male and 103 were female (14.7%). The ratio male: female was 5.6. The average age was 29.1 (DP = 8.7), ranging between 3 and 62 years of age. The age group 20 to 29 years concentrated a majority of cases (45.4%). The Table 2 shows the motorcyclists distribution in relation to the variables associated with the accident. As for the victim position on the motorcycle, it was observed that 423 (60.2%) were in the condition of driver, however this information is compromised by the proportion of non-specified (26%). Concerning the helmet usage, 406 motorcyclists were using at the time of the accident. For 250 (35.6%) attendances, this information was not recognized. The accidents occurred most frequently on Sundays (19.3%), between 6 p.m. and 12 a.m. (0.28%). The suspicious of alcoholic drinks use among victims was 20.8%, however this variable present a significant percentage (15.6%) of information without filling (Table 1). Acta Scientiarum. Health Sciences Maring, v. 34, Special Edition, p. 239-246, 2012 In relation to the trauma location, the extremities were the most affected body segment with 341 occurrences ( Table 2). The injuries were classified according to the severity, being identified 264 (37.6%) superficial injuries or of low severity (excoriations, cuts and contusions), 124 (17.6%) were intermediate and 148 (21.1%) were severe (brain injuries) ( Table 2). Discussion The results enabled the understanding of important information about the characteristics of accidents involving motorcycles in the city of Recife, although describes solely the victims attended by SAMU-192. It was verified the predominance of male, age range between 20 and 29 years in these accidents. This result is compatible with the profile described in other studies carried out in Brazil (KOIZUMI, 1992;SOUSA, 2006;;;). Some studies suggest that the predominance of young men can be credited to sociocultural factors, to the use of alcohol and the increase in the number of workers with motorcycles (;MELLO-JORGE, 2000;). Andrade and Mello-Jorge affirm that, probably, the greatest exposure of males and the young people in the traffic is related to social and cultural behaviors that make them to assume more risks when driving vehicles (excessive speed, use of alcohol, risky maneuvers, among others). A research carried out in the city of Porto Alegre, state of Rio Grande do Sul, with motorcyclists victims of traffic accidents, suggests the relationship of these accidents with the characteristics of the work performed by the motoboys that contribute to their increased risk in the traffic : excessive working time, incentives to productivity, and the demand for speedy deliveries (). Silva et al., analyzing the motoboys perception about the aspects related to their work and the occurrence of accidents, identified that the pressure exerted by the companies and the customers concerning the urgency in deliveries is the determinant factor for the adoption of risk behaviors in the traffic. Regarding the accident situation, it was observed that the majority of the victims were in the condition of motorcycle drivers at the moment of the accident. Similar results were found in the city of Maring (Paran State) and Teresina (Piau State) (OLIVEIRA; SOUSA, 2004;). According to the weekday of their occurrence, there was an increase in the proportion of victims since Friday, with a large concentration on Sunday. There is unanimity in the studies concerning the increase of accidents involving motorcyclists during the weekends (;;). In the State of Piau, were verified three times more chances of motorcyclists to be involved in accidents between Thursday and Sunday, when increases the consumption of alcoholic drink (). Acta Scientiarum. Health Sciences Maring, v. 34, Special Edition, p. 239-246, 2012 In relation to the time of occurrence, the night period (6 p.m. to 12 a.m.) was the period with the highest frequency. Factors related to the increased consumption of alcohol, reduction in visibility and the fatigue at the end of the day are elements which contribute to the great occurrence of accidents in this period (OLIVEIRA; SOUSA, 2004;;;). Several researches associate the use of alcoholic drinks with the occurrence of accidents (ANDRADE; MELLO-JORGE, 2000;;). A study made by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration reported that in recent years, there was an increase in the number of deaths in the context of motorcycles conducted by drunk drivers, particularly, among people over 40 years. Moreover, the main factors of risk for accidents involving motorcycles are: drunk driving and excessive speed. The use of alcohol leads to carelessness and loss of attention, speeding and negligence in the use of protective equipment (ZAMBON;HASSELBERG, 2006). In Brazil, a research analyzing the consumption of alcohol among victims of accidents and violence attended by emergency services, identified that among the accidents, the highest proportions of suspected alcohol use were observed among the patients involved in transport accidents (). In So Paulo (So Paulo State), the prevalence of positive alcoholemia was identified in 24.2% of the transport accident victims attended in a trauma care center (). Santos et al. observed that drunk drivers have four times more chances to not use the helmet, incurring in two traffic infractions that need to be more policed. Our results indicate that approximately 20% of the motorcycle accident victims presented suspected alcohol use. In this way, it is recommended a great emphasis in educational programs focusing the risks of driving drunk, particularly, among young people. In general, even the mildest motorcycle accident is more severe than a simple car collision, due to higher vulnerability of motorcyclists. Usually in motorcycle accidents, there is uneven collision, with a larger size vehicle, and the motorcyclist does not have the vehicle structure to protect him/her, absorbing all the impact energy and, in most times, being ejected far away (OLIVEIRA; SOUSA, 2004). The results of this study confirm previous observations that the extremities are the most commonly affected anatomical location in motorcycle accidents, highlighting the lower limbs fractures (;PINTO;WITT, 2008;;SOUSA, 2003). In Brazil, for the motorcyclist, the only protective equipment of compulsory use is the helmet. In this sense, the head is the most protected body segment during the impact of an accident, and the other body regions remain exposed to injuries (). Batista et al. affirm that higher frequency of injuries on lower limbs and pelvis can be explained by how the motorcycles collide. With a frontal collision, the motorcycle inclines forward throwing the motorcyclist against the handlebar. If the feet and the legs remain fixed in the pedal; the thigh will be thrown against the handlebar, resulting in possible bilateral injuries of the lower limbs. As for the lateral collision, the injuries occur through the compression of legs and/or the pelvic waist against the object or other vehicle. Although the limb fractures can be interpreted as being of low or intermediate severity, these injuries demand long periods of immobilization and recovery, with possible locomotor system damage (). There is little information in literature about the effects, in long term, of motorcycle accidents on people lives. A study undertaken in Miami (USA) identified that more than 50% of the victims still presented some degree of physical disability after one year of injury and reported significant changes in their quality of life (). In Brazil, a research carried out in the city of Maring (Paran State), analyzed the return to productive activities of motorcyclists victims of accidents, and identified that, during the period between nine and twelve months post trauma, 20.4% of the victims still reported alterations in productivity as a consequence of the accident (OLIVEIRA; SOUSA, 2006). In turn, the head injuries due to motorcycle accidents present lower frequency and constitute an important cause of severe morbidity and mortality (). The helmet is the most important safety measure to protect the motorcyclists involved in collisions (;KENG, 2005;). A recent review study concluded that the helmet use can reduce by 72% the risk of head trauma (). In the present study, based on the available information, the use of helmet was quite frequent. In China, a research that determined the prevalence of the correct use of helmet among motorcyclists showed that 72.6% of the riders were Acta Scientiarum. Health Sciences Maring, v. 34, Special Edition, p. 239-246, 2012 wearing helmet, among them 43.2% were using correctly. Regarding the passengers, 34.1% were wearing but only 20.9% were using it correctly (). The motorcyclists and the passengers wearing the helmet loosely attached had two times more probabilities to have brain injuries when compared with those using the helmets tightly attached (). Besides, open-face helmets presented lower protection against head wounds (). In 1998, came into force the new Brazilian Traffic Code that establishes more severe punishments for motorcycle users who do not wear the helmet. A study carried out in the city of Londrina, Paran State, investigating the characteristics of the victims of traffic accidents before and after the new code implementation, identified increases in the helmet use rate and reduction in the number of wounded during the period after the implementation of this legislation (). Our results evidence the need for educational campaigns encouraging the use of individual protective equipments for motorcyclists. The Brazilian Association of Motorcyclists elaborated a list containing the "12 Commandments" for the motorcyclists safety in Brazilian traffic, which recommends the use of helmet approved by the National Institute of Metrology, Standardization and Industrial Quality (Inmetro), the use of overpants and jacket made of resistant fabric, reinforced shoes or boots, legs protector. Additionally, is recommended the use of light clothes and with reflective material during night time. Other aspect to be highlighted consists in the relevance of the data derived from the urgency and emergency of the health services for the elaboration of the epidemiological profiles. In the SAMU-192 attendance form, was observed significant proportion of variables without filling. Considering that the attendance to the traumatized patient must be performed quickly, it is predictable a proportion of missing information, however, the quality of the produced data has a key role in planning strategies of accidents prevention. Cabral and Souza, studying the epidemiological profile of the occurrences attended by the SAMU-192 in the municipality of Olinda, Pernambuco State, stressed the need to orientate the team about the importance of data for the monitoring the attendances profile. Conclusion The epidemiological characterization of population victim of motorcycle accidents can contribute to the implementation of strategies on prevention. This study describes the victims profile providing information that can support preventive actions in the city of Recife. The adult men within the productive age were the most affected. The injuries of the extremities were the most common type of wound. Considering that the majority of the accidents are preventable, a set of preventive actions can be adopted, such as: individual protective equipments; restriction to alcohol consumption before driving the motorcycle. A way to reduce the damages resulting from motorcycles accidents is through primary prevention. For this purpose, are required integrated intersectoral actions aiming the reduction of injuries incidence and severity. In addition, it is possible to reduce the morbidity and mortality by means of efficient actions of pre-hospital attendance, emergency and hospital attendance, specialized in trauma.

. Both oncogenic adenovirus (BAV-3) and nononcogenic adenovirus (Ad-1) are able to induce gene mutations in cultured mammalian cells. In the case of equal multiplicity of the infection the frequency of induced mutations is higher in variants with Ad-1. Unlike Ad-1 both mutagenic and transforming effects of BAV-3 are intensified by means of TPA promoters. TPA modifies analogously mutagenic and transforming effect of much less than oncogenic fragment much greater than of DNA BAV-3. Oncogene and, probably, other viral genes reveal mutagenic activity.

Many software applications have system environment requirements that must be fulfilled for the application to execute properly. In a scenario in which one application is to be integrated with another application, such as with integration of a database application with a database management system, the database management system environment must meet the integrated application's system environment requirements in order for the application to function properly. If the system requirements are not met, then the application may not install properly or the application may install but behave unpredictably, possibly resulting in system corruption. To avoid problems with a system environment, application installation developers may write custom libraries to check for, or validate, system environment properties (e.g., system parameters, OS versions, packages, patches, service packs, etc.) in an automated manner. While avoiding problems that may occur by relying on a user manually performing all of the prerequisite system environment checks (“validation checks”) for an application, custom program code may lead to other problems. For example, validation checks may not be modified, or new checks added, without re-releasing the application and installation modules. Thus, the validation checks that are to be performed in association with a given operation (e.g., an install operation), as well as the reference information on which a validation check relies, are relatively static in nature. Each system property to be validated for a given application has a single fixed value requirement for the application, for checking against the actual system property. For example, a given application may have a requirement for a particular amount of RAM in order to function properly. Additionally, there is no capability for introducing interdependencies between various validation checks. Furthermore, different sets of validation checks might need to be performed depending on the operation being performed in association with the application. For example, the following may affect the set of checks to perform: (a) whether the operation is being performed on a single stand-alone machine or clustered machines, and (b) whether the operation being performed is an install operation, an upgrade operation, adding languages, etc. Still further, validation frameworks typically do not scale well and, therefore, fail to adequately support or function well as more and more application products are integrated into a single system, such as when installing interdependent suites of products. Moreover, it would be beneficial, in some circumstances, if a validation tool were able to repair some or all of the conditions that gave rise to a validation failure. Each of the foregoing desirable features would provide value that is independent of the other desirable features. Furthermore, the approaches described in this section are approaches that could be pursued, but not necessarily approaches that have been previously conceived or pursued. Therefore, unless otherwise indicated, it should not be assumed that any of the approaches described in this section qualify as prior art merely by virtue of their inclusion in this section.

CTV British Columbia B.C. Mounties are on the lookout for a hit-and-run driver who struck a family dog but refused to take the dying animal to a veterinarian – for fear of wrecking his upholstery. Kelowna resident Lloyd Manchester was walking his dog of 12 years, Jake, near a local Boys and Girls Club last month when a blue SUV started backing out of a driveway toward them. He tried moving the dog to safety but it was too late; the vehicle crushed Jake’s hip and injured Manchester’s heel in the process. The driver initially stayed at the scene, but refused to lift a finger to help the bleeding pet. “I said, ‘Well, we need to get my dog to a vet,’ ” Manchester told CTV News. “He said, ‘My SUV’s really expensive and it’s got leather interiors, and I’m not putting that dog in my SUV.’ ” Instead, the driver promised to bring a veterinarian back to the scene. He drove off and never came back. “I just think it’s somewhat despicable to leave an injured dog by the side of the road and take off,” said Manchester, who managed to get Jake to a vet with help from a friend. The veterinarian tried operating on the dog the next day, but his internal injuries were too severe. Jake was put down on March 1. “We’re going to miss him… you just can’t replace somebody that you’ve had around that long and consider part of your family,” said Manchester. “He was a very faithful dog.” Manchester was put on crutches for his injured heel, but didn’t suffer any broken bones. Mounties are now asking anyone with information to come forward and help them identify the hit-and-run driver. Const. Kris Clark said Manchester and the man never exchanged information with each other, and authorities only have a few vague details to go on. “Obviously the victim was very traumatized that his dog of 12 years had been struck at the side of the road, and was unable to get the information that we could use to track down the driver,” Clark said. The suspect is described as a 50 to 55-year-old white male with short brown hair. He was driving a blue, newer-model SUV with wide tires. Clark said under the law, pets are considered property, and so the driver will likely only face a fine under the Motor Vehicle Act. Manchester said he hopes to see the driver do the right thing and turn himself in. “Leaving a dog in that kind of shape, saying your vehicle’s more important than an animal,” he said. “Nobody should do that kind of stuff and get away with it.” Anyone with information on the incident can contact the Kelowna RCMP detachment at 250-762-3300.

Evolutionary Conserved Cathepsin E Substrate Specificity as Defined by N-Terminal and C-Terminal Sequencing of Peptide Pools The substrate specificity of the non-lysosomal aspartic protease cathepsin E from three different species has been studied using the method of automated N-terminal sequencing and a newly developed method for C-terminal sequencing of peptides and peptide pools. The combination of N-terminal and C-terminal sequencing of peptide pools is a fast and easy method to identify and compare the substrate specificity of endopeptidases. Our analysis shows a conserved hydrolytic specificity between human, mouse and bovine cathepsin E, with only small differences in fine specificity. Furthermore, our results confirm and extend the rules governing the interactions of the substrate with the amino acid (aa) side chains of the various pockets within the enzyme's active cleft. We found that the positions flanking the scissile peptide bond P1-P1' are occupied exclusively by hydrophobic aa with both aliphatic or aromatic side chains; Val and Ile, however, are not allowed in the S1 binding site. The S2 and S2' subsites accept hydrophilic aa. Additional requirements concerning the S3' to S5' subsites were also revealed. Finally, the sequences of single peptides generated by cathepsin E from the three different species can be easily aligned to the determined cleavage motif, showing the reliability of our pool sequencing methods.

Beauty routines can sometimes be a little frightening. Kelly Clarkson's adorable 2-year-old daughter, River Rose, learned this on Tuesday, when she stared at her mom in fascination as the original American Idol champ got her eyebrows waxed. Clad in a striped onesie, River comfortably sat on Clarkson's lap while the mother of two underwent the sometimes painful process. "Thanks @Kingginny for helping with my eyebrows and for teaching River," Clarkson, 34, joked, adding a crying laughing emoji. Clarkson is also a mom to her son, Remington Alexander, whom she gave birth to in April. Last week, she tweeted a super cute photo of her second child with husband Brandon Blackstock, writing, "That moment you realize you want to squeeze and love something so much you can't contain yourself." As busy as Clarkson is with her children, it's no wonder the always relatable star hilariously forgot the lyrics to a few of her own songs while on Facebook Live in July. "There's a lot of songs," Clarkson exclaimed. "It's been 15 years."

Correlation-autofocusing-spectral 2-D ISAR image reconstruction from linear frequency modulated signals In this paper, by applying an analytic geometric approach, a model of an ISAR (inverse synthetic aperture radar) signal with linear frequency modulation is developed. An ISAR scenario of the rectilinear movement of a 2D target in the 3D coordinate system is described. An image reconstruction procedure, independent of the trajectory parameters of the target is suggested. The image processing is performed over the time record of the ISAR signal. Range compression and azimuth compression are performed by correlation with an emitted LFM (linear frequency modulated) pulse, and fast Fourier transform, respectively. An autofocusing technique using a reference signal, reflected by the nearest (first) point scatterer from the target, is applied. Numerical experiments to prove the correctness of the ISAR image reconstruction procedure are performed.

1. Field of the Invention The present invention relates to image formation processes and apparatus generally, and, more particularly, to developing devices and processes for electrophotographic printers, laser printers, photocopiers. 2. Description of the Related Art Generally, an electrophotographic printer includes a developing device that transfers images from a surface of a photosensitive drum to a printable medium such as paper fed from an internal or external feed device, and a fixing roller that heats the toner forming a latent image borne by the printable medium. Conventional electrophotographic printers use a photosensitive drum, a developing roller, and a feeding roller. There must be nips, which are contact areas, between the photosensitive drum and the developing roller, and between the developing roller and the feeding roller. To maintain these nips, the electrophotographic printer has a power transmitting gear and the timing belt. Since the developing roller and the feeding roller are directly meshed with each other, it is difficult to transmit the power at a desirable velocity ratio while maintaining their nip within an acceptable range of length. Direct contact between the feeding roller and the developing roller induces vibration and inconsistent velocity of the feeding roller while the feeding roller is transferring the developer to the developing roller. This, in turn, causes jitter, that is, irregular gaps between dots of a latent image on the exterior cylindrical surface of the photosensitive drum, so that the best printing quality cannot be assured. Accordingly, it is an object of the present invention to provide an improved image forming apparatus and process. It is another object to provide an image forming apparatus having an improved arrangement of gears. It is still another object to provide a developing device and process in an electrophotographic printer that exhibits minimal jitter. It is yet another object to provide a developing device and process in an electrophotographic printer that reduces occurrence of vibration while maintaining constant velocity of the feeding roller. According to the present invention, an image forming apparatus may be constructed according to the principles of the present invention with a power transmitting gear meshed with a photosensitive drum gear formed on a photosensitive drum, and a transmission belt that transmits a driving force from the power transmitting gear to a developing roller gear formed on a developing roller. The power transmitting gear is meshed with an idler gear, and the idler gear is meshed with a feeding roller gear formed on a feeding roller that feeds a developer to the developing roller. With this configuration, the power transmitting gear transfers a driving force from the photosensitive drum to the feeding roller gear.

Deleted Scene: Will Leah Stay In School? Leah talks with her sister about the pressures of school and also raising her children. Don’t miss a new episode of #TeenMom2 this Monday at 9/8c!

Lendlease covering up serious incidents on Barangaroo worksite, former safety manager says Posted A former senior employee of construction giant Lendlease says the company routinely covers up safety issues on Sydney's Barangaroo building site, and does not report serious incidents to authorities. Key points: A former Lendlease safety manager says the company's attitude to safety an "absolute disgrace" He says there is a culture of intimidation that prevents employees from speaking out Lendlease says all incidents were reported and safety is a top priority The former environmental health and safety manager, who has asked not to be named for fear of losing his current job, called his former firm's attitude to safety an "absolute disgrace". He said there was a culture of intimidation and bullying that prevented employees from speaking out for fear of losing their jobs. "Not only to hide [worksite incidents] from the regulator, but to hide internally," the former employee said. "To hide it internally means that the company's incident and injury statistics are kept as low as possible, which helps for future tenders." He said the problem was not a one-off, but part of a company-wide culture. "That sort of behaviour was driven from the very top of that project itself all the way down through to the guys at the ground level, even to the supervisors," he said. "They were on many, many occasions instructed and bullied into submission, not to tell regulators, not to tell anyone else." Data previously obtained by the ABC showed workplace incidents at Barangaroo were being reported at a rate several times that of other big construction sites in Sydney. Between 2014 and June 2016, there were 123 reported incidents at the harbourside building site, compared to just 24 at the Darling Harbour Precinct and 25 on the Sydney Metro rail project over the same period. But the former employee said those numbers were only the tip of the iceberg. "On a number of occasions we were instructed by some of the most senior level people within that project itself to do our best to hide things, not report the little stuff," he said. He said the unreported incidents ranged from the minor all the way up the scale. "On one occasion where we had one of the elevator gates come off its hinges and fall from level 32 all the way to ground floor during the night shift — that was never reported. "We had another event where they used what's called a lift bag — it's basically a canvas bag that can hold a few hundred kilos of products. "One of those bags failed as it was being lifted and roughly about 500 kilos of steel came raining down out of the bottom of that bag and all the way down to ground floor." He said Lendlease management did not pay adequate attention to safety on the worksite. "If I could describe it in one word, I would say disgraceful. Their attitude towards it is an absolute disgrace." 'It was swept under the carpet' Construction giant Lendlease is the principal contractor for Barangaroo. Over years, it has employed thousands of workers over the CBD site to build one of the most ambitious and controversial projects in the city's history, which is now nearing completion. The project has faced criticism for plans to build a second Sydney casino by James Packer's Crown Resorts, among other things. Fred Barbin, an organiser from the Electrical Trades Union and former delegate on the Barangaroo site, said there was strict protocol around worksite incidents. Under law, all notifiable incidents must be reported to the state's construction regulator, SafeWork NSW. "If it's a serious incident where somebody's life's at risk, you have to phone the regulator straight away," Mr Barbin said. He echoed the former Lendlease employee's concerns around underreporting. "There's was an incident where I didn't find out for three days later — I was delegate on site and nobody reported it. "It was swept under the carpet. I heard about it at a party, that's how we found out." He said workers were under pressure not to report incidents they see, even when safety was directly affected. The former Lendlease employee said nothing had changed since he left the company. "Clearly it is so deeply engrained and embedded in that company's culture that it'll never change — never, ever," he said. In a statement, Lendlease said all incidents were reported and said safety was a top priority. "We are committed to providing safe conditions for all people in our workplaces," the statement said. "We work with all parties including our clients, unions, regulators and workers on safety matters. Stringent safety measures are in place at Barangaroo. "All worksite incidents are reported to SafeWork NSW as required and undergo thorough investigation of the root cause, underlying factors and corrective actions, to facilitate improvements across the site and on other projects." Topics: occupational-health-and-safety, sydney-2000

We're thinkin' he was "Born Ready" to be a great dad! Songs about being a musician are often full of vulnerable truths and deep meaning ... and sometimes, they're just a whole lot of fun. "We were in the middle of working on writing a song ..." Moakler explains how each of his new album's 12 tracks came to be written, recorded and included on the album. "When the first responders came, and I saw them looking at me amazed that I was walking around, suddenly I felt amazed, and grateful ..." "I quickly realized I was telling my own story, which was the story of being a road-dog country singer." "I won't miss writing songs for a while, because I'm ready to get out and play 'em."

The widow of a Utah mayor killed while serving in Afghanistan will attend President Donald Trump's State of the Union address Tuesday. OGDEN, Utah (AP) — The widow of a Utah mayor killed while serving in Afghanistan will attend President Donald Trump's State of the Union address Tuesday night at the U.S. Capitol. Jennie Taylor will be in the House gallery as a guest of U.S. Rep. Bob Bishop, a Utah Republican whose 1st Congressional District includes North Ogden of which Brent Taylor was mayor. The 39-year-old Utah National Guard major died in November during a deployment while on temporary leave as mayor. The Standard-Examiner reports that Jennie Taylor said she didn't know if Trump will mention her husband during the address but said it'd "amazing if he did." Bishop spokesman Lee Lonsberry said the invitation was intended as a gesture of thanks to the Taylors.

Decreased Sweating in Growth Hormone Deficiency: Does it Play a Role in Thermoregulation? Human body temperature is regulated from the hypothalamic thermoregulatory center which receives signals from peripheral as well as central (hypothalamic) thermal centers and emits appropriate, signals in the effector pathways. These affect heat production, vasodilation and sweating. These effectors are influenced by a number of hormonal factors, such as thyroxine, epinephrine and norepinephrine. In the normal resting situation evaporation of sweat plays a minor role in maintenance of body temperature. However, during exercise or during periods of high environmental temperature, evaporative heat loss becomes crucial for thermoregulation. Patients with anhydrotic ectodermal dysplasia (Christ-Siemens-Touraine syndrome) are characterized by decreased or absent sweating which leads to hyperthermia during febrile illness, exercise or in warm climate /I/.

Response and adaptation of skeletal muscle to exercise--the role of reactive oxygen species. In the last 30 years, the role of reactive oxygen species (ROS) in exercise physiology has received considerable attention. Acute physical exertion has been shown to induce an augmented generation of ROS in skeletal muscle via different mechanisms. There is evidence that ROS formation in response to vigorous physical exertion can result in oxidative stress. More recent research has revealed the important role of ROS as signaling molecules. ROS modulate contractile function in unfatigued and fatigued skeletal muscle. Furthermore, involvement of ROS in the modulation of gene expression via redox-sensitive transcription pathways represents an important regulatory mechanism, which has been suggested to be involved in the process of training adaptation. In this context, the adaptation of endogenous antioxidant systems in response to regular training reflects a potential mechanism responsible for augmented tolerance of skeletal muscle to exercise-induced stress. The present review outlines current knowledge and more recent findings in this area by focussing on major sources of ROS production, oxidative stress, tissue damage, contractile force, and redox-regulated gene expression in exercising skeletal muscle.

A 39-year-old Spanish woman called Lupe says her life was put in serious danger by Ireland’s abortion legislation. In an interview with Spanish daily newspaper El Mundo, Lupe (her surname is not given) recounts the circumstances of a 2012 pregnancy, when she was living with her partner in Galway. When she was 11 weeks pregnant she started bleeding. “They told me there a small wound in the uterus and gave me an appointment in two weeks’ time,” Lupe said. “But I was worried and I went to a private clinic where they gave me an appointment in nine days.” When she and her partner took their young son to the clinic, hoping to show him a scan of his little brother, it was found the foetus had no heartbeat. Lupe was told to come back two days later in order, she hoped she said, to remove the foetus. However, when she returned and showed the scan to the doctor he said he needed another scan in one week. “I asked him why and he said it was to rule out any errors and gave me an appointment for a week later. It was the worst week of my life. Knowing you are carrying your dead child inside is terrible.” When she came back again, 14 weeks after getting pregnant, it was confirmed the foetus was dead. “I asked the doctor how old the foetus was and he said four or five weeks. And I was 14 weeks. So I had been carrying him inside me dead for 10 or 11 weeks. “[The doctors] offered his condolences and asked what I wanted to do. I said he had been dead for two months, that I was exhausted, that there was danger of infection and I wanted to finish the whole thing.” Lupe said she was then told another scan was necessary in a week’s time to make sure the foetus was not still growing. “When I demanded an explanation, he said he understood which country I was from, but that he was the doctor. “It was a clear reference to the fact that I’m from a country where abortion is legal,” she said. “In that waitingroom I understood that they don’t care about the woman, that when we are pregnant, women are aren’t humans, we’re incubators. In Spain this wouldn’t have happened to me, not even under Franco.” Lupe flew back to Spain and had the medical procedure to remove the foetus. The clearest explanation Lupe feels she received in Galway was from a female doctor who said her colleagues’ “hands were tied” legally. “They didn’t want to carry out an abortion,” she said. “If your body expels [the foetus], fine. If it doesn’t, then it depends on divine will.” Ireland, she said, “is living a kind of religious fundamentalism which is in the constitution: from the moment it is conceived, the foetus has the same rights as the mother… But in the end it has more rights than her.”

Changing Civil Servants Awareness about Open Data Using a Collaborative Digital Game According to open government principles, public administration should make its data available to the public to create transparency, accountability, and to facilitate participation in public decision-making. Open-Data Policies (ODPs) were developed to encourage the opening of governmental data to the public, but require collaboration and awareness from all levels of government. Gaming has proved to be successful for creating awareness. Yet the pandemic hinders in-person gameplay, and there is a need for an online game that can be played remotely. This research uses an in-person game as the starting point to develop an online collaborative digital game. The feature and design choices of the digital game are described, along with its main differences when compared to the in-person one. The essential features include interaction and discussion about open data among players, the assignment of different roles, and points awarded when making the right decision to open, partially share, or close a dataset.

PYRAMIDAL ANCHOR STONE FROM BAGA WATERS OF GOA, WEST COAST OF INDIA Ancient Indian literature, inscriptions and art point to the possibility of a number of boats and ships lost in Indian waters due to natural calamities and human error. In Goa a majority of shipwrecks occurred in shallow waters, mostly due to severe storms, hidden rocky reefs and sand bars. The National Institute of Oceanography, Goa, has undertaken marine archaeological surveys off Baga in Goa for the exploration of shipwrecks. Baga is located 4 to 5km north of Marmagao Bay. The sub-marine contours of the bay have an average slope of 1.50m per km (up to 30 fathom contour) running parallel to the shore line (Fig. 1). Fine and silty sand occurs up to a 7.5m water depth; beyond this the area is covered by mud and clay.1 Underwater exploration was confined to a 3 to 6m water depth within a radius of 100m. The sea floor in the working area is rocky and thickly covered with sponges, while at a 5 to 6m water depth there is coarse sand. The exploration led to the recovery of a two-holed stone with a rectangular cutting on the apex, which appears to be a pyramidal anchor stone.

Simple and Novel Three Dimensional Neuronal Cell Culture Using a Micro Mesh Scaffold Conventional method of cell culture studies has been performed on two-dimensional substrates. Recently, three-dimensional (3D) cell culture platforms have been a subject of interest as cells in 3D has significant differences in cell differentiation and behavior. Here we report a novel approach of 3D cell culture using a nylon micro mesh (NMM) as a cell culture scaffold. NMM is commonly used in cell culture laboratory, which eliminates the requirement of special technicality for biological laboratories. Furthermore, it is made of a micro-meter thick nylon fibers, which was adequate to engineer in cellular scales. We demonstrate the feasibility of the NMM as a 3D scaffold using E18 rat hippocampal neurons. NMM could be coated with cell adhesive coatings (polylysine or polyelectrolyte) and neurons showed good viability. Cells were also encapsulated in an agarose hydrogel and cultured in 3D using NMM. In addition, the 3D pattern of NMM could be used as a guidance cue for neurite outgrowth. The flexible and elastic properties of NMMs made it easier to handle the scaffold and also readily applicable for large-scale tissue engineering applications. 3D cell culture scaffolds (Dutta and Dutta, 2009). For example, there were clinical trials that artificial tissues which were made by 3D scaffolds used for regenerative medicine (Karageorgiou and Kaplan, 2005) and in vitro 3D tissue modeling (Yamada and Cukierman, 2007). However, most of the 3D cell culture scaffolds require complex fabrication process and expensive equipment that is usually not accessible for biologists, which limits the extended usage of 3D scaffold systems in cell culture. Here we propose a nylon micro-mesh (NMM) as a new 3D cell culture scaffold based on its mechanical flexibility, biocompatibility, and practicality. And we show that NMM is suitable for 3D cell culture scaffold and has some potential for 3D tissue engineering applications. Substrate preparation Three kinds of Nylon micro meshs (NMMs) which had 20, 10, 8 m pore size were purchased from Spectrum Laboratories (Spectrum, CA, USA). And NMMs with 40 m pores were taken from a cell strainer (BD Falcon, NJ, USA). NMMs were sonicated with acetone, isopropylalcohol (IPA) and DI water for 5min per each and dried by air stream. NMMs were coated with Poly-D-Lysine (PDL, Sigma, MO, USA) by soaking the NMMs in PDL solution (0.1 mg/ml in borate buffer, pH 8.5) at 37 o C. After 6 hour, PDL solution was aspirated and NMMs were immersed in 70% ethanol for sterilization. After the sterilization, NMMs were rinsed with DI water. The NMMs were finally dried in clean-bench or incubator. Polyelectrolyte multilayer (PEL) were coated using layer-bylayer method. The cleaned NMMs were immerged in the solution of Poly allylamine hydrochloride (PAH, 20 mM, pH 9.0, Sigma, MO, USA) for 1 min, followed by five times washing with DI water. The PAH coated NMMs were immerged in the solution of Poly sodium 4-stlrensulfonate (PSS, 60 mM, pH 9.0, Sigma, MO, USA) for 1 min, followed by five times washing with DI water. The process of PEL coating were repeated ten times and finished with the PAH coating. NMMs were sterilized by UV for 5 min and dried in clean-bench or incubator. Agarose gel (gelling range: 36~39 o C, Amresco Inc., Ohio, USA) was dissolved in 100 o C DI water and 0.7% (w/v) agarose hydrogel was formed. After cooling the agarose gel to 36 o C, cell suspension was mixed with the agarose and plated on PDL coated NMMs. Cell culture Hippocampus tissues were dissected from E18 Sprague/Dawley rat embryo. The tissues were washed three times with Hank's Balanced Salt Solution (HBSS) and mechanically dissociated using 1 ml pipette tips. Cell suspensions were centrifuged for 3 min at 1,000 rpm and the cell pellets were suspended again in plating medium which was composed of serum free Neurobasal/ B27 (Invitrogen, CA), 12.5 M L glutamate (sigma, MO), 2 mM L glutamine (Gibco) and 1% penicillin streptomysin (invtrogen, CA). Finally, the cell suspend plated onto the coated NMMs at the density of 200 to 300 cells/mm 2. Cultures were maintained in an incubator (5% CO 2, 37 o C). After three days from cell plating, half of the medium was replaced with fresh culture medium without L glutamine every 3 days. Live-dead staining Neurons were stained by Live-Dead viability/cytotoxicity kit (Invitrogen, CA, USA). 10 l of ethidium homodimer and 2.5 l calcein acetocymethyl ester were mixed in 5 ml of phosphate buffered saline (PBS). 200 l of the dye solution was added in 1 ml sample and covered with aluminum foil to protect the dye from photobleaching. After the incubation (5% CO 2, 37 o C) of the sample for 20 min, the solution in the sample was removed and NMMs washed with PBS. Mechanical properties of nylon micro-mesh as a three dimensional cell culture scaffold Appropriate mechanical properties of 3D scaffold are important in 3D tissue engineering (). First, flexibility is required to maintain the shape of scaffold and handling. Second, micro and nano-scale structural architecture is desirable to mimic in vivo microenvironments (Curtis and Wilkinson, 1998; ). Third, some porosity is required for the diffusion of nutrients, metabolic wastes and interconnectivity of cells. Fig. 1A shows the compliance of the NMM to the mechanical bending. It was also easy to handle by hand for forceps. Fig. 1 also shows the ordered structures of NMM in micrometer scales. The thickness of the individual nylon fiber was 30 or 35 m and the thickness of NMM was 75 m, 45 m, 55 m, 60 m, respectively (Fig. 1B~E). NMMs have many regular pores with the pore diameters of 8 m, 10 m, 20 m, and 40 m (Fig. 1F~I). These properties made NMMs suitable for 3D cell culture scaffolds. Cell Viability and biocompatibility Biocompatibility of materials is a crucial parameter, since it can be decisive criteria as a culture scaffold. Most of the reported scaffolds were composed of ECM molecules, or had bioactive molecules to modulate cellular activities (Zhu, Fig. 2 shows the surface modification of NMMs using positively charged polymers. We coated NMMs with either poly-D-lysine (PDL) or polyelectrolyte multilayer (PEL). PDL is one of the most common polymer used as a cell adhesive coating material. PEL was used to modify the NMM surface with much denser positive charge layers through layer-by-layer coating technique, which turned out to be more efficient in terms of reproducibility and reliability. In order to investigate the effect of chemical controllability and viability of cells on the NMM, we prepared different pore size of NMMs coated by PDL and PEL and cell plate. Fig. 3 shows excellent cell viability at 9 DIV. Neurons tend to grow on and inbetween the micro-fibers and pores were be filled with neuronal growth. Entrapment of cells in three dimensional space Entrapment of cells in three dimensional space has a special meaning that it provide distinct differences in cell morphogenesis, behavior, gene expression, differentiation from 2D environment (;). In other word, the recovered 3D environment cause different viability and func tio- Many of the studies used natural hydrogels or synthetic gel such as alginate (), collagen () and poly ethylene glycol (PEG) () to entrap cells. We used agarose hydrogel which is a common material in biological laboratories for the cell entrapment (Fig. 2). Fig. 4 shows the neuronal growth in agarose hydrogels. Neurons were well dispersed in the gel, and neurites were formed and extended (Fig. 4B, E). They tend to get clustered in the gel after forming thick fiber bundles. As the gel was not functionalized to be cell adhesive, the clustering process was likely to occur in the matured neuronal cultures. However, neurons were still viable and maintained in 3D NMM scaffolds. Three dimensional neurite guidance effect As NMMs had ordered structures in micrometer scales (Fig. 1), each nylon fiber can provide the topographical guidance cues to the growing neurites. Fig. 5A shows an example of the guided neurite outgrowth along the 3D mesh fibers. The fiber thickness was comparable to the size of soma and neurites followed the edge of the fibers. This is also shown in scanning electron micrograph in Fig. 5B. Fig. 5C shows more 'patterned' neurites on the mesh. Although the fiber itself was too thick to control thinner neurites, its edges clearly had an effect on neurite guidance. DISCUSSION In summary, we proposed NMMs as a simple but effective 3D cell culture scaffold. Unlike other 3D scaffold materials that requires expensive or special technicality, NMMs are an inexpensive material that is common biological laboratories. NMM had excellent mechanical and structural properties to support neuronal cell growth and gel based cell cultures. It was also chemically modifiable to convert the nylon surface into cell adhesive surfaces. Moreover, the micro-scale structural regularity could be potentially be applicable to 3D tissue engineering applications.

Q: Questions about Android Accessories on topic? I have a troubleshooting questions for a smart bracelet I've purchased, and would like to ask here. I don't see in the Tour that it's strictly on or off topic. The device interfaces directly with my Android (although it's compatible with iOS as well, I don't have one of those), and not through a computer. The app to manage it is Android based. Would asking questions about these other devices be on topic? A: This seems fine to me. There's a clear software component to the question, meaning that Android is (I can only assume) a relevant factor to the process. The fact that there is an app needed would lend more credence to this idea. Where I would generally try to draw the line is: does something about Android as software have a meaningful impact? In cases where it's iffy then I think erring on the side of acceptance is certainly fine, but things that are likely to be considered off-topic are simply those where it is obvious that there are not any software considerations when using the accessory. "How do I install a screen protector properly?" comes to mind as something that would fall into the latter (Android independent) category. Although instructions may vary between devices, it is not Android, the software, that causes that variance.

President Donald Trump on Sunday revisited some highlights of his presidential campaign and policy promises amid backlash to his pardon of former Maricopa County sheriff Joe Arpaio and ongoing rescue efforts amid the destruction wrought by Hurricane Harvey in Texas. Trump started the morning by touting “a great book by a great guy” — Milwaukee County Sheriff David Clarke, one of the nation’s most controversial law enforcement officials. A great book by a great guy, highly recommended! https://t.co/3jbDDN8YmJ — Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) August 27, 2017 Trump announced he would visit Texas as soon as he could do so “without causing disruption,” and said he would also visit Missouri, touting his win “by a lot” in that state in the 2016 election. I will be going to Texas as soon as that trip can be made without causing disruption. The focus must be life and safety. — Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) August 27, 2017 I will also be going to a wonderful state, Missouri, that I won by a lot in '16. Dem C.M. is opposed to big tax cuts. Republican will win S! — Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) August 27, 2017 He went on to repeat his promise to build “THE WALL” on the U.S.-Mexico border, though in a departure from his usual refrain that Mexico would pay for any such physical barrier, Trump claimed Mexico would pay “through reimbursement/other.” With Mexico being one of the highest crime Nations in the world, we must have THE WALL. Mexico will pay for it through reimbursement/other. — Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) August 27, 2017 He also railed against the North American Free Trade Agreement and suggested the United States “may have to terminate” its negotiations with Mexico and Canada.

Congenital Pseudohypoparathyroidism A Late Diagnosis Abstract The purpose of this paper is to present a case of congenital pseudohypoparathyroidism, late diagnosed in a 22-year-old patient. The patients history revealed hypocalcaemia, diagnosed at birth and persistent despite the treatment with calcium. At 8 years old, the patient is diagnosed with epilepsy and receives treatment with Levetiracetam and Oxcarbazepine; at 12 years old she is diagnosed with dilatative cardiomyopathy and receives treatment with Spironolactone and Glycosides. At 22 years old, she visits our Internal Medicine Department with the suspicion of polymyositis and psoriasis. Clinical examination shows armonic short stature, fourth finger hypoplasia, laboratory findings show severe hypocalcaemia, the hand X-ray - third and fourth metacarpal hypoplasia, immunological tests were negative. All data leads to the diagnosis of congenital disease, and given the history of the patient and the evolution of the clinical manifestations we presume hypoparathyroidism or pseudohypoparathyroidism, therefore PTH is dosed with normal values, and the diagnosis of congenital pseudohypoparathyroidism is established. The patient was referred to endocrinology, where genetic tests were performed to confirm the diagnosis. In conclusion, in the absence of multiple pathology integration into a single disease, the diagnosis of the genetic disease is delayed. Therefore, it is important to have a comprehensive approach and collaboration between different specialties to establish the correct diagnosis.

Youth Prospects in the Digital Society Youth Prospects in the Digital Society In an age when the next generation have worse prospects than their parents, this book appraises the challenges that young people face resulting from the instability and uncertainty of their lives. Based on young peoples experience of education, training, employment, family life and political participation in England and Germany, the book examines the impact of digitalisation on identity in the context of rising inequality. The focus is on the effects of technological transformation, fragile European Union institutions, growing nationalism and mental and economic stress arising from the Covid-19 pandemic on youth transitions and the ever-present shadow of climate change. Such an uncertain context presents systemic challenge for the forms and effectiveness of youth policy in the different national contexts as addressed in each of the chapters that follows. Youth policy is shaped by such key issues as the future of vocational education and training in the digital society, job creation, family, political engagement and community life, the impact of social media and universal connectivity. The book argues that government should be under an obligation to ensure that every young person has access to the technical, economic, and educational resources needed to shape their personal transition to adulthood and acquire the capability needed to participate fully in the digital society.

BLOOMINGTON, Ind. -- After pausing for a couple of months, the Leading Index for Indiana moved timidly upward, from 99.4 in July to register 99.6 in August. "This reluctant step up was driven almost exclusively by the positive news from the housing market, namely, that home builder sentiment continues to improve," said Timothy Slaper, director of economic analysis at the Indiana Business Research Center in Indiana University's Kelley School of Business, which compiles the monthly report. "Most other components of the index were essentially flat," Slaper added. "The conflicting signals in the components of the LII mirror the inconsistent economic signals in the broader economy. For example, housing starts fell slightly from June to July while building permits -- a signal of future construction -- rose. Both measures were significantly greater than the same period a year ago however." While the advance retail sales numbers for the month of July were encouraging, consumer sentiment is still in the doldrums, with the Thomson Reuters/University of Michigan consumer sentiment index registering a July value of 72.3. This is down from a June reading of 73.2. The Conference Board Consumer Confidence Index, on the other hand, improved slightly in July. "While the jobs report earlier this month was a pleasant surprise -- the economy added more jobs than most analysts had predicted -- the recent run-up in gasoline prices, due to both rising crude oil prices and domestic production disruptions, will erode the consumer spending that helps to drive the economy," he said. This will also prolong the period of many households paying off consumer debt. "Even with the sheepish step forward of the LII, the overall outlook calls for economic growth that is below modest," he said. "The economic expansion slowed to almost 'stall speed' in the first half of the year, and there is little indication in the recent data that the economy has regained traction." The bright spot for the Indiana economy, however, is that car sales continue to exceed the 14 million unit sales mark, helping to bolster the state's economic fortunes somewhat. "The outlook continues to deteriorate as experts are downgrading their expectations for future economic growth," Slaper said. "Just this month, the IMF reduced its forecast for global economic growth in 2012 to 3.5 percent, which, with the exception of 2009, would be the slowest annual growth rate in the last decade." The Architecture Billings Index saw more poor conditions last month, indicating a drop in design activity at U.S. architecture firms in June and suggesting upcoming weakness in spending on nonresidential construction projects. Housing market confidence continued to rise in August, providing the oxygen to move the LII forward. The National Association of Home Builders' Housing Market Index increased 2 points from 35 in July to 37 in August. These levels haven't been seen since early 2007. The enthusiasm should be guarded however, Slaper said. The HMI index rise is attributed to an increase in the regional index for the South and a large increase in the Midwest regional index -- soaring 8 points from 34 in July to a preliminary reading of 42 in August. The other two regional HMI indexes, for the Northeast and West, both fell from July to August. The value of the Northeast regional HMI plummeted from 34 in July to a preliminary reading of 25 in August. After dropping almost four points and moving into "economic contraction" territory in July, the Institute for Supply Management's Purchasing Managers Index eked out a 0.1 point gain in August. The PMI remains below 50, signaling contracting economic activity. The Production Index and the Employment Index components of the PMI remained in economic growth zone, however, registering 51.3 percent and 52 percent, respectively. Auto sales stayed on track to surpass the 14 million unit mark for the year. July sales were almost 9 percent greater compared to last year. Unfilled orders for motor vehicle bodies, parts and trailers edged up almost imperceptibly. Unfilled orders have been steadily increasing since January 2010, a fair proxy for movement in the overall economy. The transportation and logistics component of the index -- the Dow Jones Transportation Average -- continues to seesaw. In July, it retreated about 2.3 percent, closing the month at almost the same value as it closed in May. U.S. rail traffic was also off in the month of July, compared to last year. While overall rail traffic was merely 0.7 percent lower, the "waste economic index" measure for rail traffic was 6.0 percent lower compared to last year. Given that the Federal Funds rate hovers near zero as part of the Fed's stated policy, for the near to medium term, the interest rate spread component of the LII is really a story about the behavior of the 10-year Treasury interest rate. The rate on 10-year Treasuries dropped again, from 1.62 percent in June to 1.53 percent in July (monthly averages). "It appears, therefore, that investors are still looking for safe assets, even if it means a nominal return," Slaper said. "Given the continued uncertainty surrounding the debt crisis in Europe, the global economic slowdown and the potential for hostilities between Iran and Israel, the demand for safe assets is strong."

Integrated care key for patients with both addiction and mental illness. plied to the care of BHS patients with other psychiatric conditions, such as anxiety and psychotic disorders. Although some patients are reluctant to talk about suicide attempts, Coffey noted that his team does hear consistent themes from patients and their families. Patients have come to us and said, Its a good idea that you had me take the gun out of my house; some nights Id sleep with it on the pillow beside me. These sorts of comments indicate that suicide is often impulsive and that imposing even a short delay can allow the impulse to pass, said Coffey.

Spartans win game of two halves! In a proverbial game of two halves, Blyth were forced to defend sternly before holding out for a 3-2 away win at Telford. Spartans raced into a three goal lead at half time thanks to goals from Robbie Dale, Dan Maguire and Dale Hopson. However, Telford responded after the break with goals through Dinanga and Newby to make it a nervy finale. Jamieson was called upon to make a good early save, and as Blyth broke on the counter-attack David McTiernan was unlucky when he saw a header rebound off a post. Spartans took the lead on 28 minutes, a corner routine saw the ball cut back for Lewis Horner who dummied it and fell to Robbie Dale who whipped the ball first time into the corner from 20 yards. The lead was doubled on 31 minutes as Dan Maguire slid the ball home. Moments later it was 3-0. Maguire was involved again as he chased a lost cause and won possession of the ball in the box. Aaron Hayden who had looked shaky since coming on early as a sub clumsily brought down Maguire and the referee had no hesitation in pointing to the spot. Dale Hopson stepped up and despite Singh guessing the right way was unable to get near the ball. The home fans and players were stunned by this seven minute triple salvo and in the second half they looked to salvage something from the game. The hosts were got themselves back into the game on 64 minutes. A free kick was harshly awarded against Ian Watson and the full back was cautioned for his trouble. The kick was swung into the box and Dinanga was able to nod in at the near post. A nervy finale was ensured as AFC Telford pulled a second goal back on 78 minutes. Anthony Dwyer drove down the left and slid the ball across the goalmouth and the arriving Newby was able to stroke the ball home from 2 yards out. Telford were then chasing an unlikely equaliser, but Spartans also had further chances to extend their lead, only to be denied by some good goalkeeping from home stopper Singh.

BGC Partners Inc.&apos;s hostile takeover bid for derivatives and currency brokerage firm GFI Group Inc. began Wednesday with the launch of its tender offer. BGC made a $675 million bid for GFI last month, but decided to take the $5.25 per share offer directly to shareholders after the firm refused to discuss a deal. The financial and real estate brokerage firm began its tender offer on Wednesday for the shares it does not already own. BGC already has a 13.5 percent stake in GFI. A representative for GFI declined to comment on the matter Wednesday. GFI agreed in July to be acquired by CME Group in a $4.55 per-share deal. As part of that agreement, the combined company would sell GFI&apos;s wholesale brokerage and clearing business for $165 million in cash. BGC argues their offer is superior at a 15 percent premium and argues the CME deal would "deprive GFI shareholders" of the value of their investment because it would sell the business to GFI management at a discount. Shares of New York-based BGC Partners rose 1 percent to $7.57 by early afternoon, amid a modest market dip. Shares in GFI, which is also based in New York, rose 2 percent to $5.24.

. A man in his 40s who had made frequent visits abroad was admitted to our hospital complaining of epigastric pain. Ultrasonography (US) revealed an "inner tube sign" in the gallbladder, which suggested a diagnosis of ascariasis in the gallbladder. Pyrantel pamoate was directly injected into the gallbladder via a percutaneous transhepatic catheter. The worm was dead 10 minutes after the injection. US revealed reduction of the worm's length and then the disappearance of the worm from the gallbladder at both 13 days and 2 months after the injection. This method is less invasive than operation and therefore is possibly more safe. It is known that the number of cases of ascariasis may increase in Japan due to increased organic vegetable consumption and foreign travel. We need to consider this disease in the differential diagnosis of epigastric pain.

Effects of Physical Form and Urea Treatment of Rice Straw on Rumen Fermentation, Microbial Protein Synthesis and Nutrient Digestibility in Dairy Steers This study was designed to determine the effect of physical form and urea treatment of rice straw on rumen fermentation, microbial protein synthesis and nutrient digestibility. Four rumen-fistulated dairy steers were randomly assigned according to a 2 (2 factorial arrangement in a 4 (4 Latin square design to receive four dietary treatments. Factor A was roughage source: untreated rice straw (RS) and urea-treated (3%) rice straw (UTRS), and factor B was type of physical form of rice straw: long form rice straw (LFR) and chopped (4 cm) rice straw (CHR). The steers were offered the concentrate at 0.5% body weight (BW) /d and rice straw was fed ad libitum. DM intake and nutrient digestibility were increased (p<0.05) by urea treatment. Ruminal pH were decreased (p<0.05) in UTRS fed group, while ruminal ammonia nitrogen (NH3-N) and blood urea nitrogen (BUN) were increased (p<0.01) by urea treatment. Total volatile fatty acid (VFA) concentrations increased (p<0.01) when steers were fed UTRS. Furthermore, VFA concentrations were not altered by treatments (p>0.05), except propionic acid (C3) was increased (p<0.05) in UTRS fed group. Nitrogen (N) balance was affected by urea treatment (p<0.05). Microbial protein synthesis (MCP) synthesis were greater by UTRS and CHR group (p<0.05). The efficiency of microbial N synthesis was greater for UTRS than for RS (p<0.05). From these results, it can be concluded that using the long form combined with urea treatment of rice straw improved feed intake, digestibility, rumen fermentation and efficiency of microbial N synthesis in crossbred dairy steers. INTRODUCTION In the tropics, most ruminants are fed on low-quality roughages, agricultural crop-residues and industrial byproducts (Wanapat, 2000;). Rice straw is one of the major sources of roughages for ruminants in the tropics ;). However, it is characterized by low levels of CP and high level of structural polysaccharides, which drastically affected the DM intake, digestion and ultimate performance (;Chemjon, 1991;). Improving the utilization of low quality roughages could be by treatment with nitrogen sources, chemical and physical treatment (;). Urea treatment of rice straw could increase its nutritive value (;Abate and Melaku, 2009). Hart and Wanapat indicated that urea (5%) treated rice straw improved overall intake, nutrient digestibility, VFA production and increased passage rate of particles in the rumen. Urea treatment may be the most suitable method for small-scale farmers improve the quality of straws (). However, urea price is increasing and impacts on the high cost of roughage. Therefore, reducing levels of urea could be used as an alternative to 5% urea for treatment as studied by Khejornsart and Wanapat who reported that treating rice straw with 3% urea could maintain the nutritive value, especially those of NH 3 -N, total VFA and propionate concentration when compared with 5% UTRS in vitro. Particle size of roughage can impact on maintenance of rumen function, which has been associated with fiber digestibility and optimal pH for cellulolytic microorganisms Yang and Beauchemin, 2009;). Zhao et al. reported that in goats fed rice straw increasing the particle size (1, 2, 4, and 8 cm) resulted in increased chewing activity and enhanced ruminal function. In addition, Yang et al. also reported that increased forage particle size in dairy cow diets improved ruminal pH and MCP synthesis in the rumen with no effect on feed intake. On the other hand, decreasing roughage particle size increased VFA production particularly propionic acid and higher feed efficiency due to enhanced MCP synthesis Krause and Combs, 2003). However, limited data has been available regarding chopping and urea treatment of rice straw on the rumen fermentation, nutrient digestibility and MCP synthesis of steers. Therefore, the objective of this experiment was to investigate the effect of the physical form and urea treatment of rice straw on rumen fermentation, MCP synthesis and nutrient digestibility in crossbred dairy steers. Animals, treatments and experimental design Four, rumen-fistulated Holstein-Friesian (HF) crossbred dairy steers (75% HF and 25% Thai native breed) with an initial BW of 228 (16 kg were randomly assigned according to four dietary treatments according to a 2 (2 factorial arrangement in a 4 (4 Latin square design. Factor A was roughage source: untreated rice straw (RS) and urea-treated (3%) rice straw (UTRS), factor B was type of physical forms of rice straw: long form rice straw (LFR) and chopped (4 cm) rice straw (CHR). The concentrate was fed at the level of 0.5% BW/d with roughage was fed ad libitum. Chemical composition of concentrate, rice straw and ureatreated rice straw is presented in Table 1. Steers were housed individually and fed the experimental diets twice daily approximately at 0800 h and 1600 h. Clean fresh water and mineral blocks were available ad libitum. The experiment was conducted for four periods, each period lasting for 21 d, the first 14 d for feed intake measurements and the remaining 7 d for total urine and fecal collection, while the animals were housed in metabolism crates. Rice straw was chopped to a theoretical cut length 4 cm by machine. Urea-treated rice straw was prepared by using 3 kg urea of fertilizer grade (46% N) plus 100 kg water, sprayed onto 100 kg of rice straw and then covered up for 10 d before directly feeding to the animals. Data collection and sampling procedures The feed was sampled, fecal and urine samples were collected by total collected from each individual steer during the last 7 d of each period. Feeds, refusals and fecal samples were dried at 60 (C and ground (1 mm screen using Cyclotech Mill, Tecator) and analyzed using the standard methods of AOAC for DM, N and ash. Neutral detergent fiber (NDF) and acid detergent fiber (ADF) were analyzed according to Van Soest et al.. At the end of each period, rumen fluid was collected at 0, 2, 4, and 6 h after the morning feeding through the rumen fistula. Approximate 200 mL of rumen fluid was collected at each time from the middle part of the rumen using a 60 mL hand syringe. Temperature and pH of rumen fluid were measured immediately using a portable pH and temperature meter (Hanna Instruments HI 8424 microcomputer, Singapore). Rumen fluid samples were then filtered through 4 layers of cheesecloth. Samples were used for NH 3 -N and VFA analysis to which 5 mL of 1 M sulfuric acid (H 2 SO 4 ) were added to 50 mL of rumen fluid. The mixture was centrifuged at 16,000g for 15 min. and the supernatant was stored at -20C before NH 3 -N analysis using Kjeltech Auto 1030 Analyzer and VFA were analyzed using highperformance liquid chromatography (HPLC) as described by Samuel et al.. At the same time as rumen fluid sampling, a blood sample (about 10 mL) was collected from the jugular vein into tubes containing 12 mg of EDTA and the plasma was separated by centrifugation at 500g for 10 min at 4C and stored at -20C until analysis of BUN according to Crocker. Urinary samples were analyzed for total N determined according to AOAC and allantoin determined by HPLC as described by Chen and Gomes Table 1. Ingredients and chemical composition of concentrate, untreated rice straw and urea-treated (3%) rice straw. The amount of microbial purines absorbed was calculated from purine derivative (PD) excretion based on the relationship derived by Chen and Gomes. MCP (g/d) = 3.990.856mmoles of purine derivatives excreted (). The efficiency of microbial N synthesis (EMNS) was calculated using the following formula: EMNS = microbial N (g/d)/DOMR; where DOMR = digestible OM apparently fermented in the rumen (assuming that rumen digestion was 65% of digestion in total tract, DOMR = DOMI0.65; DOMI = digestible organic matter intake). Statistical analysis All data were analyzed as a 22 factorial arrangement within a 44 Latin square design using the general linear procedure in PROC GLM of SAS. The statistical model included terms for animal, period, roughage source, physical form, and interaction between roughage source and physical form. Comparison among treatments was tested by orthogonal contrast. Differences among means with p<0.05 were accepted as statistically significant differences. Feed intake, nutrients intake and apparent digestibility The effect of physical form and urea treatment of rice straw on voluntary feed intake, nutrients intake and apparent digestibility in dairy steers are presented in Table 2. Rice straw intake, in terms of kg/d and gram per metabolic body weight (g/kg BW 0.75 ), was increased by urea treatment (p<0.01 and p<0.05, respectively). Therefore, total DM intake was subsequently improved (from 4.7 to 5.7 kg/d) (p<0.05). However, physical form did not significantly affect voluntary feed intake (rice straw intake and total intake) (p>0.05). The nutrient intake and apparent digestibility in dairy steers receiving UTRS were increased when compared with RS (p<0.05), while steers receiving different physical form of rice straw were similar among treatments (p>0.05). Characteristics of ruminal fermentation and blood metabolites The effect of physical form and urea treatment of rice straw on rumen fermentation and concentration of BUN are presented in Table 3. Ruminal pH was affected in the UTRS fed group. It was also affected by the roughage source and physical form interaction, with the lowest ruminal pH found in the UTRS+CHR (p<0.05) (Figure 1). Concentration of NH 3 -N and BUN was significantly affected by urea treatment (p<0.01) (Figures 2 and 3, respectively). In addition, total VFA concentration was higher (p<0.01) for UTRS than for RS. Molar proportion of acetic acid (C2), butyric acid (C4) and C2:C3 was not affected, whereas that of propionic acid increased in the UTRS fed group (p<0.05). N balance and efficiency of MCP synthesis The effects of physical form and urea treatment of rice straw on N balance, urinary PD excretion and MCP synthesis in dairy steers are reported in Table 4. Differences between roughage sources were found for N utilization. N intake, excretion (fecal and urinary) and balance (absorption and retention) were increased (p<0.05) for UTRS compared with RS. There was no affect of the physical form of rice straw on N utilization (p>0.05). Allantoin excretion, absorption and microbial CP synthesis were higher (p<0.05) for UTRS and CHR group. In addition, EMNS was greater (p<0.05) for UTRS than for RS. DISCUSSION Steers fed UTRS had a higher total intake than those fed RS (from 3.6 to 4.6 kg). Similarly, Wanapat et al. reported that 5.5% UTRS increased DM intake in dairy cows (from 4.4 to 6.0 kg) when compared with RS. However, decreasing particle size of rice straw for dairy steers had no effect on DM intake. This result is consistent with some previous studies (;Yang and Beauchemin, 2005;Yang and Beauchemin, 2006a;), but others have observed DM intake increased by reducing particle size of diets Krause and Combs, 2003). Beauchemin et al. found that when poor quality, high fiber diets were fed, reducing the roughage particle size significantly increased DM intake. In the present study, using poor quality roughage (rice straw) particle size did not influence rice straw intake and total DM intake. Tafaj et al. reported that the effect of dietary particle size on DM intake may depend on roughage sources, type of concentrates, especially its ruminal degradation rate, reflecting their effects on rumen conditions and digestion. In addition, increased availability of nutrients due to the urea treatment of rice straw, could promote the observed higher total DM intake in dairy steers. Nutrient intake in terms of OM, CP, NDF, and ADF was increased by urea treatment and the combined effect of the higher total DM intake. These results were similar to previous work of Abate andMelaku andHossain et al. who reported that urea-treated rice straw or barley straw had increased OM, CP, NDF, and ADF intake. Other factors, such as physical properties and palatability of feed, also affect intake (). Under this study, urea-treated rice straw supplied more moisture (51.0% DM) than untreated rice straw (93.7% DM), indicating that urea treated straw was highly palatable. The increase in palatability might be due to the blending and processing of less palatable fibrous straw (Jaglan and Kishore, 2005), which may partially explain our observed increase in DM and nutrient intake. The apparent digestibility of DM, OM and CP was greater in steers receiving UTRS than RS. These results were in agreement with Wanapat et al. who reported that 5.5% UTRS could improve digestibility of DM, OM, and CP. In the present study, digestibility of CP increased, which may have been due to the higher CP content in the UTRS and enhanced CP intake. Moreover, NDF and ADF digestibility was higher for UTRS than for RS. Hart and Wanapat reported that UTRS could increase digestibility of NDF and ADF. Ammonium hydroxide (NH 4 OH) formed in UTRS produces a swelling of the hemicelluloses-lignin complex in rice straw (). Resulting in an increased surface area available for attack by rumen microorganisms and thus increasing the rate of breakdown and the rate of passage of treated straw (Goto and Yokoe, 1996;). These effects may explain the action of urea treatment in improving rumen microbial degradation of rice straw by making the cellulose and hemicellulose more accessible for the rumen microbes (). Digestion of NDF and ADF was increased from 58% to 65% and from 54% to 60%, respectively, when steers were fed UTRS. In addition, a different physical form of rice straw did not influence nutrient digestibility. These results are consistent with several reports Yang and Beauchemin, 2006b), but in contrast to other findings (;). Ruminal pH was lower (6.2) for UTRS+CHR than for the UTRS+LFR and RS groups. One of the most important factors influencing rumen pH is the amount of saliva buffer secretion, which is positively correlated with rumination activity (). These results were in agreement with Zhao et al. reported that the reduction in the particle size of rice straw reduced ruminal pH. Moreover, Van Soest reported that cellulolytic organisms grow optimally at pH 6.7 and pH below 6.2 inhibited the rate of digestion, decreased acetic acid and depressed cellulolytic activity. In the present study, ruminal pH in the range 6.2 to 6.6 was optimized for cellulolytic bacteria and fiber digestion in the rumen. Moreover, ruminal NH 3 -N and BUN concentrations were increased when steers were fed UTRS. This result was consistent with previous studies which indicated that UTRS had affected ruminal NH 3 -N concentration (Wanapat, 2000;;). Higher ruminal NH 3 -N concentration occurred when steers were fed UTRS because of the relatively high levels of soluble CP for UTRS than for RS (5.4% vs 2.5% CP), which would likely have caused higher rumen ammonia levels, particularly immediately after feeding (). However, NH 3 -N concentration was not affected by chopping of rice straw. Similarly, Onetti et al. reported that reducing the particle size of corn silage did not affect the rumen NH 3 -N concentration. This result agreed with the study of Beauchemin and Yang, suggesting that reduction of forage particle size may not have affected the protein digestion in the rumen. Moreover, concentrations of BUN were highly correlated to the level of NH 3 production in the rumen (). Ruminal NH 3 -N concentrations were 12.4 to 22.8 mg/deal and were closer to the optimal ruminal NH3-N range (15 to 30 mg/dL, Perdok and Leng, 1990;;;). The production of acetic acid, butyric acid and acetic: propionic ratio was similar among all treatments. However, the concentration of total VFA and propionic acid was increased when steers were fed UTRS. These results were in agreement with Wanapat et al. who reported that propionic acid was higher for 5.5% UTRS than for RS in dairy cows. Opera et al. also reported that N supplementation from urea could increase the activity of rumen microbes in degrading carbohydrates (cellulose and starch) for VFA production when the energy level was sufficient. Under this study, total VFA concentrations in all treatments ranged from 108.3 to 124.9 mm and were found at normal concentrations (70 to 130 mm, Wanapat and Pimpa, 1999;). Chopping of rice straw did not affect VFA production. These results are similar with those of Yuangklang et al. who reported that VFA production was observed to be unaffected by decreased rice straw particle size in beef cattle. Zhao et al. reported that total VFA, acetate: propionate ratio and individual VFA remained similar across the decreased particle sizes of rice straw in goats. Total N intake and N excretion (fecal and urinary) were all higher for UTRS than for RS. Urinary excretion of N will arise when there is ammonia accumulation in the rumen or high levels of deamination occurring in the body, due to excess protein fed or an unbalanced amino acid profile (). In contrast with these results, Sinha et al. did not find an effect on total N intake, fecal and urinary N excretion in Mithun (Bos frontalis) fed on urea-treated paddy straw when compared to Napier grass. In addition, N absorption and N retention were found to be greater in steers fed urea-treated rice straw. The N retention was positive in all diets, ranging from 8.9 to 14.2 g/d. This result agreed with Pradhan et al. who reported that the N retention was increased by urea or ammonia treated rice straw when compared with untreated rice straw. Urea treatment of rice straw increased N intake as well as its absorption and retention indicating that this treatment could improve the performance of the steers. While, chopping of rice straw did not influence N utilization. These results were in agreement with previous reports, which indicated N intake, excretion and retention were not affected by the different particle sizes of rice straw (). The PD excreted in the urine originated from absorbing microbial purines and purines from the animal tissues (). The urinary Allentown excretion, absorption and MCP synthesis were increased in the UTRS and CHR fed groups. The EMNS based on organic matter truly digested in the rumen were enhanced by UTRS. Hoover and Stokes reported that the rate of digestion of carbohydrates was a major factor controlling the energy available for microbial growth. Under this present study, concentrate was fed at the level of 0.5% BW/d with urea treatment and chopped rice straw was used as a roughage source, both of which could synchronize to produce ruminal NH 3 -N and C-skeletons, suitable for ruminal MCP synthesis. Hence, NH 3 -N concentration was increased from 13.3 to 21.2 mg/dL and enhanced efficiency of MCP synthesis in the rumen. However, EMNS was not influenced by CHR alone. Similarly, Wang et al. reported that different particle size of rice straw did not affect EMNS. The MCP synthesis from the rumen as calculated from purine derivative excretion using the equation of Chen and Gomes ranged from 345.9 to 433.7 g/d. These values were relatively high in supporting the productivity of ruminants. CONCLUSIONS In conclusion, feeding of urea-treated (3%) rice straw to dairy steers resulted in an improved DM intake, nutrient digestibility, rumen fermentation especially NH 3 -N, propionic acid, N utilization, MCP synthesis and EMNS. However, no effect of chopping rice straw was found, except for MCP synthesis. Therefore, long form rice straw treated with urea improved nutrient digestibility, rumen fermentation and EMNS in crossbred dairy steers.

Man of the West Plot Link Jones (Gary Cooper) rides into Crosscut, Texas to have a bite to eat, then catch a train to Fort Worth, where he intends to use the savings of his community of Good Hope to hire a schoolteacher. On the train platform, Sam Beasley (Arthur O'Connell) speaks with Link briefly, rousing the suspicions of the town marshal, Sam being a known con man. When the marshal comments that Link looks familiar, Link gives him a false name. Aboard the train, Sam impulsively joins Link, learns of his mission in Fort Worth and claims he can be of help. Sam introduces him to the Crosscut saloon singer, Billie Ellis (Julie London), insisting she could make an ideal teacher. Their conversation is overheard by Alcutt, a shady-looking passenger. When the train stops to pick up wood for additional fuel, male passengers help load the train but Alcutt remains on board, feigning sleep. He signals three other men, Coaley Tobin (Jack Lord), Trout (Royal Dano) and Ponch (Robert J. Wilke), who rob the train. Link tries to intervene and is knocked unconscious. The train pulls away, with Alcutt riding off with Link's bag containing Good Hope's money. Alcutt is wounded as he and the robbers flee. Link revives to discover that he, Sam and Billie have been left behind, many miles from the nearest town. Link leads them on foot to a ramshackle farm, admitting that he lived there years earlier. While the others wait in the barn, Link enters the run-down house and finds the train robbers hiding inside. Coaley is suspicious of Link's claim that he simply wants to rest for the night. They are interrupted by aging outlaw Dock Tobin (Lee J. Cobb), who is startled to see Link, his nephew, whom he raised as a killer and thief. Link abandoned him more than a dozen years earlier to go straight. Tobin laments that nothing has been the same since Link's departure and introduces him to the roughnecks he now commands, including Link's own cousin, Coaley. Disturbed by the revelation of Link's true identity, Coaley demonstrates his toughness by killing Alcutt, who is near death from his wound. Realizing the danger of his situation, Link brings in Sam and Billie from the barn and lies to Tobin, telling him that he intentionally sought out his uncle after being left by the train. Tobin reveals his long-held ambition to rob the bank in the town of Lassoo and asserts that Link's return to the gang makes that possible. Link agrees to participate in the holdup to protect Billie, after a knife held to his throat while Coaley drunkenly insists that she strip. Tobin waits until she is nearly undressed before he laughingly sends Link and Billie to sleep in the barn, Link lying that she is his woman. Claude Tobin (John Dehner), another cousin, arrives and is displeased at finding Link there. Tobin rejects the suggestion of Claude and Coaley to kill Link and the others. They depart on the four-day ride to Lassoo. As revenge for the brutal treatment of Billie at the ranch, Link goads the brutal Coaley into a fistfight and beats him severely, then forcibly strips him of his clothes. Deeply humiliated, Coaley attempts to shoot the unarmed Link, but Sam intercedes and is killed instead. Tobin then shoots Coaley for disobeying him. Billie laments that she has finally found a man worth loving, but can never have him. Link has a wife and children in Good Hope. With the town of Lassoo in sight, Link volunteers for the holdup job, secretly hoping that in town he can seek help. Tobin insists that he be accompanied by the mute Trout. It turns out that Lassoo is a ghost town, its bank deserted except for a frightened old Mexican woman, whom Trout shoots in a panic. Link proceeds to kill Trout. He then awaits the arrival of Claude and Ponch. In a drawn-out gun battle, Link kills Ponch first, then eventually and with some regret, Claude. Returning to camp, Link discovers to his horror that Billie has been raped and beaten. He goes in search of Tobin, who is on a cliff nearby. Link calls out to Tobin that he, like Lassoo, is a ghost and finished. He shoots Tobin and reclaims the bag of Good Hope's money. Riding back to civilization, Billie tells Link she loves him, but is resigned to the fact that she must resume her singing career and proceed alone, knowing that Link intends to return to his home and family. Development The script of the film which was written by Reginald Rose (best known for writing 12 Angry Men (1957)), was based on the 1955 novel The Border Jumpers by Will C. Brown. The title of the film had nothing to do with the novel entitled Man of the West, which was written by screenwriter Philip Yordan. Yordan's novel had been adapted into a film called Gun Glory, which starred Stewart Granger in the lead role. The producer of the film, Walter Mirisch (whose company produced the Academy Award-nominated films: The Magnificent Seven (1960), West Side Story (1961), The Great Escape (1963) and In the Heat of the Night (1967)), assigned director Anthony Mann to direct an adaptation of the film. Casting Stewart Granger was originally considered for the lead role. James Stewart, who had worked with director Anthony Mann in eight movies, five of them westerns: Winchester '73 (1950), Bend of the River (1952), The Naked Spur (1953), The Far Country (1954) and The Man from Laramie (1955), eagerly wanted the role. Supposedly, Stewart was extremely upset when Mann didn't give him the script for the film, felt betrayed, and had no interest in working with him ever again, although Mann thought that Stewart would be unfit for the role. Another probable reason why Mann didn't give Stewart the script was that Mann and Stewart had a falling out during the shooting of Night Passage (1957). While Mann and Stewart felt that the script of the film need some rewrites, Mann wanted a darker edge for the main character of the film and dropped out of the film because Stewart softened up the character and sang a few songs in the final film, as a showcase for his own accordion playing. With Mann out of the picture, James Neilson took over his position as director. Gary Cooper was eventually cast for the lead role of Link Jones, a former outlaw who is forced to relive his past. It made three years since Cooper hadn't done a Western. Cooper felt that he was miscast in the role of the former outlaw because he was twenty years older than the character; Cooper was 56 at the time of filming, the lead character being 36. According to biographer Jeffrey Meyers, Cooper, who struggled with moral conflicts in his personal life, "understood the anguish of a character striving to retain his integrity ... [and] brought authentic feeling to the role of a tempted and tormented, yet essentially decent man." Lee J. Cobb (who had starred in 12 Angry Men as one of the twelve jurors) played the role of Dock Tobin, the uncle of Link, who wants his nephew to return to his old ways and rejoin his gang. Despite playing the uncle of the main character, Cobb was ten years younger than Cooper. Makeup was applied to make Cobb look older than Cooper. The main villain of the film, Tobin wants his nephew to return to his old ways and rejoin his gang. This was the same case with John Dehner who played Link's cousin and childhood friend, Claude. Denher was fourteen years younger than Cooper. Arthur O'Connell played Sam Beasley, a fast-talking gambler, and saloon singer Billie Ellis was played by Julie London. London said this was her favorite movie. Tobin's henchmen Coaley, Trout and Ponch (who rob the train) were played by Jack Lord, Royal Dano and Robert J. Wilke respectively. J. Williams played Alcutt, one of the passengers on the train and Chief Tahachee was cast as Pio. Joe Dominguez, Dick Elliott, Frank Ferguson, Herman and Signe Hack, Anne Kunde, Tom London, Tina Menard, Emory Parnell, Chuck Roberson, Glen Walters and Glen Wilkerson play minor roles in the film and are uncredited. Filming Principal photography of Man of the West started and ended in 1958, with a budget of $1.5 million. The film was shot on the widescreen CinemaScope process (which was introduced in 1953) by cinematographer Ernest Haller, who is best known for his Academy Award-winning work in Gone with the Wind. Although the film takes place in Texas, most of the film was shot in California. The train scenes were shot on Sierra Railroad, Jamestown, California. The Red Rock Canyon State Park, Santa Clarita, Thousand Oaks, Newhall and the Mojave Desert all served as filming locations for the film. Two ranches located on Newhall and Thousand Oaks respectively were used as sets which were designed by art director Hilyard M. Brown, best known for his work in Cleopatra (for which he won an Academy Award for Best Art Direction), Creature from the Black Lagoon and The Night of the Hunter. Gary Cooper did his own horse-riding scenes despite physical pain that he suffered from a car accident years earlier. Chuck Roberson, Jack Williams and Jack N. Young were the stunt performers for the film. During a snow storm, Mann observed Cooper's eyes, which fascinated him: "It's all in the eyes. The heroes, all the stars the public loves, have very light blue eyes or green eyes....The eyes reflect the inner flame that animates the heroes. The guys with dark eyes play supporting roles or become character actors." Themes Canadian film critic Robin Wood noted that Man of the West is director Anthony Mann's version of William Shakespeare's play King Lear, whose elements appeared in The Furies, The Naked Spur and The Man From Laramie, with its sense of emotional whirlwind, and an older order crumbling. Man of the West, like most Mann films, is a tale of redemption. We are asked to consider the essential monstrousness of the hero, and whether redemption is a tenable idea. The noble frontiersman is made the Other, and one not very deserving of sympathy, a savage whose past ghoulishness seems unimaginable. Wood also noted that the film looks down the road to the contemporary horror film: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Tobe Hooper, 1974) and The Hills Have Eyes (Wes Craven, 1977), with their savage clans and desiccated American wasteland, are not far away. Reception When first released, the film was largely ignored by American critics, though renowned French critic Jean-Luc Godard regarded it as the best film released that year. Howard Thompson, in The New York Times, gave it one of the few raves in the mainstream press. In the decades since the film's release, it has garnered a cult following as well as considerably greater acclaim. Some, such as The Guardian's Derek Malcolm consider the film Mann's best and a landmark in the western genre's canon. Malcolm included the film in his 2000 list The Century of Film. Critic and film historian Philip French cites Man of the West as Anthony Mann's masterpiece, containing Gary Cooper's greatest performance. As of 2015, Man of the West maintains a rare 100% approval rating on the Rotten Tomatoes film website, based on reviews from 13 critics.

1. Field of the Invention The present invention relates to a brick made of refractory material. More particularly, the invention relates to formed bricks that can be used as parts of construction elements in a furnace for calcining carbon bodies, where at least one of the surfaces of the bricks is provided with mating or interlocking elements. The mating elements cooperate with complementary mating elements in an adjacent brick. 2. Discussion of Related Art WO 97/35150 relates to a design of refractory bricks to be used in a ring chamber furnace where the upper surface of the brick is provided with an arrangement of mating elements shaped as an elongated groove extending lengthwise along the complete length of the brick, together with crosswise extending grooves terminating short of the sides of the brick. The lower surface of the brick is formed in a similar manner with complementary projections that cooperates with a similar, underlying brick. The system as described above has a rather complicated geometry that involves high costs related to production/maintenance of production tools in the manufacture of such bricks. Further, a system of grooves/tongues extending along the complete length of the brick could possibly involve a risk of leakage of gas through the wall, as a result of gas leakage through the layers between adjacent bricks. Particularly in calcining furnaces, such leakages may generate problems with respect to burn-off in carbon bodies caused by air entering the chamber where the calcining process takes place. Another problem related to longitudinal grooves/tongues extending approximately along the complete length and width of the brick, is that such grooves/tongues may represent regions of tension concentration where weakening lines or crack formation may occur, which in a worst case may indicate that the brick is cracking wholly or partly, leading to leakages or weakening of the overall wall construction. FR 2 415 279 discloses a refractory brick for use in a furnace where the brick has mating elements, such as projections, at is upper surface and recesses in its lower surface. The mating elements may be circular and have the shape of a cut-off cone. The present invention relates to refractory brick for use in a calcining furnace of the calcining of carbon bodies. In such a furnace, the brick work will be exposed to great cyclic temperature variations, typically from room-temperature and up to about 1250xc2x0 C. Such cycles may introduce tension forces in the brick work and initiate creeping, in particular, during the course of time. Bricks in accordance with the present invention has so far shown promising results with respect to endurance and stability. With the present invention, a novel design of a brick where the above mentioned disadvantages can be avoided is achieved. The brick in accordance with the invention can be manufactured at low costs, as the shaping tool used in the pressing of the brick before burning has a simple and rugged geometry. Further, the geometric shape of the brick makes possible to reduce the number of different types of bricks that are included in a calcining furnace. The fact that this number can be reduced indicates that the logistics with respect to maintenance and repair work can be simplified, and that the constructional drawings of the furnace can be simplified. Following this, the construction period for a furnace can be reduced.

Fixed pattern noise of microchannel plate Fixed pattern noise (FPN) is a kind of image defect of microchannel plate (MCP), which is manifested by uneven brightness between the boundary and inside of multi-fibers. The formation mechanism of FPN was revealed by analyzing the characteristics of FPN of the MCP. The results showed that FPN appears at the boundary of multi-fibers and three sets of opposite sides of the multi-fibers show different brightness. The cause for the formation of FPN is that the gain of the outermost mono-fibers of multi-fibers is inconsistent with that of the inner of multi-fibers. The uneven brightness in the three sets of opposite sides is because of the different morphology of them. In the drawing multi-fibers process, the outermost mono-fibers deform into an ellipse-like shape due to lack of restraint. After the MCP is sliced along a certain bias angel, the ellipticity changes. The ellipticity of one set of opposite sides increases, while that of the other two groups decrease. In the melting process, the multi-fibers rotate at a small angle, resulting in slight differences in ellipticity between the two groups. When the input electrons hit the wall in channels with different ellipticities, they will excite secondary electrons with different trajectories, thus showing FPN. In order to reduce FPN, the deformation of the outermost of monofibers should be reduced as much as possible in the drawing multi-fibers process. The study will provide fundamental insights and useful guidelines for improving the performance of MCP.

JANET EDWARDS –––––––– REAPER –––––––– End Game 1 Copyright –––––––– Copyright © Janet Edwards 2016 www.janetedwards.com –––––––– Janet Edwards asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. –––––––– This novel is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or localities is purely coincidental. –––––––– All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of Janet Edwards except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. –––––––– Cover Design by The Cover Collection Cover Design © Janet Edwards 2016 # Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-one Chapter Twenty-two Chapter Twenty-three Chapter Twenty-four Chapter Twenty-five Chapter Twenty-six Chapter Twenty-seven Chapter Twenty-eight Chapter Twenty-nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-one Chapter Thirty-two Chapter Thirty-three Chapter Thirty-four Chapter Thirty-five Chapter Thirty-six Chapter Thirty-seven Message from Janet Edwards Books by Janet Edwards About the Author | | ---|---|--- # Chapter One –––––––– I first met Nathan when I was riding patrol in the body stacks, driving my four-wheeled buggy past rows of identical, dust-covered, white freezer units. For the last four centuries, the population of Earth had been entering those units, leaving their frozen bodies behind them while their minds started a new life in the virtual worlds of Game. The body stacks kept being extended to make space for more of them, so now the vast underground caverns seemed to stretch on into infinity. I was startled to see another buggy coming towards me. I'd been working twelve-hour shifts in the body stacks for the last year, arriving at the nearest transport stop at 03:00 hours each day, and collecting the buggy from my shift alternate, Delora. From that moment until I returned the buggy to Delora at 15:00 hours, I'd always been totally alone in these caverns. When the boredom and the loneliness got too much for me, I'd stop my buggy, wipe the accumulated grime from the transparent viewing window of a freezer unit, and spend a few minutes studying the face of the person inside it. I'd look for clues to their personality, and entertain myself by trying to guess which of the two thousand Game worlds their mind was living on now. Were they the type of person who'd enjoy fighting battles on Medieval, taming one of the wild horses of Meadow, or casting spells on Witchcraft? I must have seen the faces of thousands of frozen Gamers by now, but this was the first time I'd met another human being in the body stacks with a temperature above freezing point. The boy and I both stopped our buggies by the twin pillars that marked the border between Red sector and Green sector, and gazed at each other in silence. I saw a boy with straight brown hair who was wearing blue overalls and riding a four-wheeled buggy with green flashes on its black body. He would be seeing a girl with wavy brown hair who was wearing blue overalls and riding a buggy with red flashes. Overalls were the cheapest, most practical clothes available. The shapeless things never fitted anyone properly, but only the glitz crowd bothered about what they looked like in real life. For most kids, the important thing was to decide what they wanted to look like when they joined the Game. "I'm Nathan," said the boy. "I'm Jex." My brain recovered from the surprise and started working again. I was riding patrol on Red Sector Block 2, rows 25,000 to 50,000. Nathan must be riding patrol on Green Sector Block 2, rows 25,000 to 50,000. We'd probably just missed meeting each other on the border between our sectors a dozen times before today, and now random chance had finally led to us coming face to face. "It stinks, doesn't it?" said Nathan. I didn't need to ask what he was talking about. It was 21 April 2519, and the Leebrook Ashton bill had become law barely three weeks earlier. Kids like us were talking about nothing else, and saying it stank was being overly polite in my opinion. For nearly four centuries, the law had said that you had to be an eighteen-year-old adult to enter Game. Children with critically serious conditions were exempt from that law, allowed to enter Game early if their lives were at stake, but that was a desperate last resort. Everyone knew that entering Game didn't just freeze your body's age, but had implications for mental development too. Those who entered too young would have problems maturing into adulthood. The original law about having to be adult to enter Game had existed for good reasons, but the Leebrook Ashton bill had cynically taken advantage of it by increasing the age of becoming adult to nineteen. Now kids like me would be classed as children and have to keep working in the real world for a year longer. My eighteenth birthday was less than a month away now. I'd expected that to be the day when I'd step into a freezer unit and begin my true life in Game. Now the Leebrook Ashton bill had moved that day a year into the future, and I was spitting furious about it. I was spitting furious, but I was also well aware our buggies monitored everything we did and said. It was unlikely that any of the supervisors would ever bother checking those records, but I still wasn't going to risk mouthing off about injustice. I settled for meaningfully pointing at my buggy. Nathan gave it a panicky look. I guessed that he hadn't read the bit in his training manual about the buggies monitoring us. "You're almost eighteen too?" I asked. "My eighteenth birthday was two days ago," he said, glancing nervously at the buggies. Nathan had been even more maddeningly close to entering Game than I was when the Leebrook Ashton bill became law. I pulled a sympathetic face at him, and we reached an unspoken agreement and dismounted from our buggies. We shouldn't be stopping work until our mid-shift break, but society had just stolen a year of our lives so neither of us was feeling very dutiful. We sat down facing each other, me leaning against a red pillar and him against a green. Technically kids like us shouldn't be riding patrol here, since it was an adult rated job, but those adults who used controlled droids to work from inside Game were needed for more important work than this. It wasn't as if anyone was going to want these bodies again. The bodies of players who might want to defrost in future were all kept in short stay facilities. The freezer units in the body stacks only held the players who'd paid their lifetime subscriptions to Game. They had no need to work ever again, their minds were living an immortal, idyllic existence somewhere in the multi-worlds of the Game, and they'd never want to return to the real world. They'd never want to return, but maintenance of their bodies was included in the lifetime subscription contract, so control systems monitored the freezer units, and kids like me and Nathan rode patrol checking for problems. Most days you found nothing, but there were occasional oddities that the freezer control systems weren't programmed to detect. In the last month, I'd found tree roots projecting through the ceiling, a stream running along an aisle, and a nest of young rabbits. Whenever I found a problem, I called my supervisor, an adult called Fraser. He would grudgingly reply from in Game, use a controlled droid to come and inspect the issue himself, and then flag maintenance to take appropriate action. Each call earned him another few credits towards his Game subscriptions. I hoped I'd find as easy a job for myself when I entered Game. "Do you work for Supervisor Fraser too?" I asked. Nathan shook his head. "Supervisor Laksha is in charge of Green Sector. She's a mermaid on Game world Aqua." "Fraser's still deciding where to settle down. He's just changed world to Meadow." Nathan asked the inevitable question that all kids constantly asked each other. "What Game world do you want to live on?" "I'll be listing Ganymede as my first choice world on my Game application." I smiled as I thought of the picture of Ganymede on the wall of my room. It showed a typical image of the shimmering spider-silk houses scattered along Ganymede's beaches, with foaming waves crashing onto the sands, and the glory of Jupiter filling the sky. A girl with silver-coloured, feathery hair, and a delicate trail of sapphire-blue flowers across her forehead, was standing in the foreground. That would be me when I was in Game. That would be Jex when I really started to live. Nathan raised his eyebrows. "That's a very ambitious choice. Ganymede's a popular Game world, with lots of long term players wanting to move there." That was what everyone said when I told them my plans. The more officious ones would add a lecture about how I could only list three preferred worlds on my application. If I failed to get accepted by any of those, then I'd be automatically allocated to any random world that would accept me, so it was silly to waste one of my preferences on an impossibly optimistic choice. I gave Nathan my usual answer, but without the withering tone that I used to the kids who lectured me as if I was a total fool. "My father is going to sponsor my Game application. He's been a Ganymede resident for decades, and is a member of their Admission Committee." "A member of the Admission Committee sponsoring you!" Nathan gave an impressed whistle. "You're very lucky. My mother calls me every few months from Game, but she's never offered to sponsor me for resident status on her world, and I've never heard from my father at all." I knew that I was incredibly lucky. There was a strict hierarchy among the players in Game, marked by the colour of the bracelets they wore. Resident or visitor applications from players wearing the gold bracelets of lifetime subscription holders always took precedence over those with the silver bracelets of those still paying annual subscriptions. Players with the bronze bracelet of someone in their first year in Game were always last in the queue, so I wouldn't normally be considered for a world like Ganymede, but the sponsorship of a resident always counted strongly in your favour. The sponsorship of a resident who was also a member of the Admission Committee, combined with my spotless Game record, meant I was almost certain to be accepted. "I'm in contact with my mother too," I said, "though she calls less often than my father. She's a mermaid like Laksha, but on Coral rather than Aqua." I didn't mention the fact that my mother had offered to sponsor me for resident status on Coral because I knew she'd never actually do it. I'd learnt as a small child that my mother never kept her promises. When my father said he'd call me next week, he'd do it. When my mother said the same thing, the week would drift on into a month or more before she called, and then she'd act as if we'd spoken only a couple of days ago, expecting me to know all about her newest dress, the party she'd just given, and the latest gossip about her friends. I understood why she was acting this way. Talking to me brought back unpleasant memories of the year she'd spent in the real world when I was born, and my mother's method of dealing with anything unpleasant was to try to avoid it. She liked to pretend to herself and her friends that she was the perfect parent, calling her daughter at least once a week, but the reality was that she kept contact with me to a bare minimum. Understanding why she was acting this way didn't stop her behaviour from upsetting me. Thinking about it was upsetting me now, so I tried to forget about her and focus on my conversation with Nathan. "What Game world do you plan to start on?" "I'm trying to decide between Venture and Gothic," said Nathan. "I'd have been interested in Flamenco as well, but its first language is Spanish. I'd prefer to start in Game on a world that has English as its first language." I blinked. If I was being ambitious hoping to start in Game on Ganymede, then Nathan was aiming as low as possible with his choices. Flamenco, Venture, and Gothic were three of the Game worlds that had opened the previous year. Flamenco would have already been flooded with applications from Spanish speaking players wanting to move there, but both Venture and Gothic would be desperately trying to build up their numbers of residents. Any new player with a respectable Game record should automatically be offered resident status by them. It was horribly rude to criticize someone's choice of Game world, so I tried to make my reply as enthusiastic as I could. "The Game images and descriptions of Venture are very tempting. I may list it as my third preference on my application." "I prefer to apply to a brand new world rather than one that's centuries old," said Nathan. "Venture and Gothic have all the latest advances in worldscape and creature design. The ghosts of Gothic are especially groundbreaking." He sounded oddly defensive. I wondered if Nathan's strange choice of worlds was because he had a black mark on his Game record. Even something trivial, like a bad behaviour flag from a childhood dormitory supervisor, could be enough to destroy his chances of getting resident status on an established world. "I'd never considered starting Game on Gothic," I said. "Everyone advises new players to start Game in a fully human form to ease the transition from real life, and I didn't think there were any human player forms on Gothic." Nathan laughed. "All the possible player forms on Gothic are fully human when it's daylight. It's a shapeshifter world like Coral and Aqua, with one key difference. The players of Coral and Aqua shapeshift individually from human to merfolk form whenever they enter the water. On Gothic, there's a mass shapeshift of all players triggered by the moon rising in the sky. That's why Gothic has extra-long nights, twelve hours instead of the standard two hours on most Game worlds, so everyone gets to spend plenty of time in their vampire, skeleton, werewolf or ghost forms." I frowned. "Surely starting Game as a shapeshifter would be even more confusing than being non-human all the time. My mother was a dryad on Nature for three years before she moved to Coral, and she still found it difficult to adjust to transforming between being a human with legs and a mermaid with a tail." Nathan sighed. "You're right. Shapeshifting is very disorienting, some players can never adapt to it at all, so it would be wisest for me to start in Game on Venture. I'd still love to be part of the mass shapeshift on Gothic though, and I find the idea of being a werewolf rather tempting." I laughed. "You'd choose to be a werewolf rather than ...?" I was interrupted by my buggy nagging me. "You are due to commence row 39,118." Nathan's buggy joined in with the whining a second later, so we reluctantly got back on our feet. "Shall we take our mid-shift break in four rows' time?" asked Nathan. "We could meet here on the border at row 39,122." I nodded. "Let's do that." –––––––– Nathan and I chatted through our thirty minute break on that day, and the following days as well. On the tenth day, we'd just got off our buggies and sat down on the floor to eat our packed lunches when Nathan gave an odd, embarrassed cough. "I was wondering if we could spend some time together after our shift ends today." I hesitated. I'd have been happy to meet up with Nathan outside work if all he wanted was casual friendship, but the eager, breathless tone of his voice gave me the idea that he had something much more intimate in mind. Some kids got into relationships with each other before entering Game, but I wasn't planning to be one of them. Nathan would stand no chance of being accepted as a resident of Ganymede, and he wasn't the sort of boy who could dazzle me into abandoning my dreams to join him as a werewolf on Gothic. I was going to stick to the safely sensible course of action, and save romantic relationships for when I was my true self in Game. I wanted to make that clear to Nathan, but preferably without falling out with him. No phones or other entertainment devices were allowed in the body stacks, so riding the rows of freezer units was hour upon hour of relentless, mind numbing, boredom. Nathan never complained about that, but for me our daily half an hour chat, spent debating the benefits and disadvantages of life on a dozen different Game worlds, was a merciful break in the tedium. I tried to phrase my refusal as tactfully as possible. "Working twelve hours a day in the body stacks doesn't leave me much free time for socializing." I was surprised to see what looked like relief on Nathan's face at the rejection. I wondered if I'd read too much into his suggestion of meeting outside work. I'd dropped out of the glitz crowd a year ago, and didn't bother what I wore or looked like any longer, so that seemed the most likely answer. Nathan started talking about Havoc after that. We were debating whether Havoc or Abyss were the worst worlds in Game, when my buggy started screaming an alarm I'd never heard before. I leapt to my feet and checked the buggy's display screen in panic. "I've got an unscheduled defrost!" Nathan's buggy started shrilling as well. "I've got one too," he said. "Another! Three now!" My screen was showing seven unscheduled defrosts, with more appearing every second. I'd no idea what was happening, but I instinctively jumped onto the seat of my buggy, ordered it to head for the location of my nearest defrost, and then called Supervisor Fraser. He didn't respond. I called again and again, and finally got through. "I've got defrosts!" I yelled. "What should ...?" I heard a confusion of other voices talking, and broke off my sentence. I'd always been one to one in my previous conversations with Fraser, but this was a conference call. I was patched in with about twenty other hysterical kids. "Shut up!" Fraser shouted. "Game world Avalon just crashed." He was drowned out by voices babbling questions. Fraser's words didn't make any sense. I knew it was over three hundred years since a Game world crashed, because we'd all been taught about the Rhapsody disaster in school history lessons. Back then each Game world had only had two servers running it, and a freak simultaneous failure of both Rhapsody's servers had caused it to crash. After that, the number of servers for each Game world had been increased, so now every Game world had four servers running it. It was surely impossible for all four of Avalon's servers to have failed at once. "I said, shut up!" Fraser shouted again. "We've lost Game world Avalon, and every player who was on that world is going through emergency defrost and waking up. The senior supervisors are sending them all messages over the freezer unit control systems, telling them to lie still in their freezer units and wait calmly until they're restored into Game on a different world." Oh yah, I thought. Some of those players would have been living in Game for hundreds of years. Now they've suddenly woken up in their old physical bodies, and found themselves trapped in a freezing cold box. They obviously just need to hear a recorded message to be perfectly happy again. I thought the words, but kept my mouth firmly shut. I daren't risk being sarcastic to any adult, let alone my own supervisor. "They'll all be hitting their freezer unit panic buttons to send out alarm calls," said Fraser. "Ignore them. Defrosting on emergency cycle puts a huge strain on the human body, so you have to focus on alerts from the medical monitoring system. Anyone got those?" I studied my display screen. It was flooded with alarm calls, so I hit the filter codes to block everything except medical alerts. "I've got a heart failure case." "Me too," said a terrified voice that sounded as if its owner couldn't be older than twelve. "Everyone with a heart failure case has to get there at emergency speed," ordered Fraser. "Find the red syringe in your buggy medical kit, hold the end of the syringe against the bare skin of the person's neck, and press the button." Other kids were yelling about medical alerts too now, but I ignored their frantic voices. I checked the location of my heart failure case, and ordered my buggy to change direction to go there. As it braked to a halt, and started turning round, I heard muffled screams and a thumping sound. Freezer units usually had peaceful, steady green lights on their control unit, but the one next to me had lights that were urgently flashing amber. There was someone awake in there, screaming for help and pounding their fists on the lid. I knew the person in the freezer unit had no chance of escaping by themselves. Every freezer unit in the body stacks had its lid locked shut to stop anyone from nosily opening them and harming the frozen occupant. I wanted to stop my buggy and check through my alarm calls for the one that had come from that freezer unit. Alarm calls automatically included the unlock code for the freezer lid, so I'd be able to open it and free the unknown player from their prison. I wanted to do that, but I mustn't. Whoever was inside that freezer unit was well enough to fight to get free. I had to ignore their cries for help and get to the person who was dying of a heart attack. My buggy had finished turning now and was moving off again. I hit the override button to make it accelerate to emergency speed. The regimented lines of freezer units were a blur on either side of me now, and the buggy engine was whining in protest. I didn't have time to see if the freezer units I was passing had flashing lights on them, and the sound of the buggy engine was too loud for me to hear anything else, but my memory kept replaying the sounds of screaming and pounding fists. I clung to my speeding buggy for an agonizingly long time, staring at the medical alert message on the screen in front of me, and muttering the unlock code for the freezer unit over and over again. "AKX2281SDV. AKX2281SDV. AKX2281SDV." The buggy finally braked, coming to a halt so abruptly that I was nearly thrown off my seat. I saw I'd stopped by a freezer unit with lights that were flashing red. I jumped off my buggy, grabbed the medical kit from the storage locker and found the red syringe inside, then raced across to punch the unlock code into the keypad of the freezer unit. I recited the letters and numbers one last time as I entered them. "AKX2281SDV." As I finished entering the code, there was a clicking sound from the freezer unit. I grabbed the lid, lifted it, and used the red syringe on the neck of the motionless man inside. I stood there for a moment, looking for any sign of a response, but there was nothing. Desperate now, I climbed into the freezer unit myself, checked the man's airway, and tried to breathe air into his cold lips. I alternated that with chest compressions for what must have been ten or fifteen minutes, but eventually had to accept that it was useless. I wearily climbed back out of the freezer unit, and stood looking down at the man. He looked a couple of years older than me, with skin that was darker than mine, closely trimmed black hair, and a hint of a beard. If he'd entered Game at the standard age of eighteen, then he must have defrosted at some point. Women often defrosted to go through one or more pregnancies, but it was far more unusual for a man to return to the real world. Perhaps this man had needed to be physically present in the real world to do highly specialist, delicate work that a controlled droid couldn't handle. Whatever his reasons for defrosting in the past, the dated clothes he was wearing showed he'd last returned to Game over two hundred years ago. His mind had been exploring the wonders of the Game worlds for more than two centuries, and had now moved on to explore somewhere stranger and far more distant. I returned to sit on my buggy, and listened to the voices of Fraser and the other kids on the call channel. It was several minutes before I could force myself to speak on the channel and say the single bleak sentence that closed the door on a life. "My heart failure case is dead." My voice sounded like it came from a stranger. Fraser didn't say anything in response to my words. There wasn't much that he could say. When a Game world crashed, dumping millions of players' minds back into the real world without warning, their bodies had to be defrosted at dangerous speed to receive the returning consciousness before it was lost to oblivion. There were bound to be some unlucky ones who didn't survive the process. For the last three centuries, people had only died in real life, while players within Game were immortal. Now there was a corpse in the freezer unit next to me. There'd be other corpses in freezer units scattered through the caverns of the body stacks here and in other parts of the world. Definitely hundreds, and probably thousands of them. Death had just visited the Game. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Two –––––––– I worked long past the end of my shift that day. Supervisor Fraser announced that the technicians were setting up command sequences and sending them out to all the freezer units that had gone through emergency defrost. Those commands were supposed to order the units to refreeze their occupants and send their minds back into Game on random worlds. The problem was that the commands didn't work in a lot of cases. Some players had hit their panic buttons so many times that their freezer control system had got hopelessly confused. Other players had injured their hands beating on their freezer unit lids, so the medical monitoring system blocked them from being refrozen. I drove round my area of Red Sector for hour after hour, manually punching in reset codes on freezer units, and watching until their flashing amber lights turned green in response. I carefully avoided looking through any of the transparent viewing windows of the units. I already had the unshakeable memory of a dead man's face to haunt my dreams. I didn't want to add the faces of living but terrified people. I glimpsed the distinctive red and white stripes of ambulance buggies several times. The ambulances would be collecting injured players from freezer units, and taking them for medical treatment. Presumably one of the ambulances would be collecting the man who'd died as well. I saw no sign of Nathan during my travels, but the other patrol shift had been called into work early to help deal with the crisis, so I did meet my shift alternate, Delora, at one point. She was going in the opposite direction to me, driving a plain brown buggy that must have been borrowed from a central supply store. When she saw me, she gave me a hopeful wave and stopped her buggy, but I kept going. I couldn't face telling Delora about the man who'd died. When Supervisor Fraser finally said my shift could go home, I went to the nearest transport stop and rode a pod to the accommodation block where I lived. I normally called in at one of the neighbourhood's economy food outlets after work, to get something hot to eat and buy sandwich packs for the next day, but I was too exhausted and shocked to think of eating now. I just went straight back to my room, stripped off my clothes, and collapsed into bed. –––––––– It was barely an hour later that my door chime sounded. I was deeply asleep by then, but even if I'd been awake and standing by the door, I still wouldn't have had time to open it before my caller overrode the lock and barged into my room. I opened my eyes to find a gleaming, bronze droid standing over me. It had blue and grey Unilaw markings on its body, and the front of its head displayed the sleek-furred, female leopard face of the adult who was controlling it from within Game. "You are required to voluntarily attend the nearest United Law facility for questioning," said the droid. "What?" I sat up. "But ... I haven't done anything." "You may refuse to voluntarily attend, in which case you will be formally charged with murder and arrested." "What?" I repeated the word, unable to believe this was happening. "Are you refusing?" I hastily shook my head. Being questioned by Unilaw was going to look bad enough on my Game record, without being arrested as well. "I'm happy to co-operate voluntarily," I gabbled the words at top speed. "Please let me get dressed." "You have one minute." I grabbed the overalls I'd taken off before tumbling into bed, and pulled them on. The droid closed in on me and waved a scanner at the bar code on my left arm. "Identity verified." The droid clipped the scanner on to the side of its body. I'd hoped the droid had made a mistake and come to the wrong room, but it clearly hadn't. I felt an instinctive urge to make a run for it, but knew I'd no hope of running away from a tireless metal droid who could track the medical implant chip in my arm. I had to co-operate and have faith in the fact I'd done nothing wrong. The droid took me by the arm and towed me off along the corridor. I saw a room door open and a boy come out. His face registered alarm as he saw the droid; he took two rapid steps backwards into his room again, and closed the door. Once we reached the accommodation block's transport stop, the droid released my arm, unclipped something from the side of its body, and used it to gesture at a waiting two-person pod. At first, I assumed it was waving the scanner again, but then I saw that this was a gun. I gasped in shock. I'd seen plenty of images of Game weapons, but never seen a real one before. "Get into the pod!" snapped the droid. I hastily climbed into the pod, and the droid got in and sat opposite me. It entered a destination into the pod guidance system, we started moving, and there was a tense, totally silent journey where I couldn't stop myself from staring at the gun. The droid kept juggling it from one bronze hand to another, in such a casual manner that I was terrified the gun would go off by mistake. If that happened, the leopard-faced adult controlling the droid wouldn't be hurt because she was safely in Game, but I could be killed. I was relieved when the pod finally stopped and the droid ordered me to get out. I found myself on a platform with a vast blue and grey United Law sign on the wall. The droid hustled me through some double doors, along several corridors, then dumped me in a cell and left me. I wanted to pound on the featureless white walls and shout abuse, but forced myself to sit on the rock-hard, narrow bed and wait patiently like a model citizen. Someone would be watching me, studying me, and eventually they'd talk to me. Maybe then I'd find out what was going on. Maybe then they'd find out they'd made a mistake. Maybe then everything would be all right again. Even as I thought that, I realized I was clinging to false hopes. The brutal truth was that nothing could make things all right after this. Whatever happened now, the fact I'd been dragged in for questioning by Unilaw would remain on my Game record forever. I'd no hope of joining my father as a resident of Ganymede now. I might end up with Nathan as a werewolf on Gothic after all. I sat there in frozen misery for what seemed like hours before one of the room walls displayed the head and shoulders of three adults in Game. The centre one had a standard male human head, except that it was in the bronze metal of Automaton. On the left was a bird of indeterminate sex, with human eyes but a beaked mouth and a crest of multicoloured feathers. On the right was a bald woman with a distorted face and hooked nose, who was expressing her individuality by choosing extreme ugliness when everyone in Game could be as beautiful as they wished. Facing three adults at once would have been intimidating even without the prison cell setting. I sprang to my feet and waited in respectful silence. "Jex," said the bronze man, the tone of his voice making my name into an accusation. "You received a medical alert. Explain why you failed to respond and provide the appropriate medical aid within the statutory three minutes." Despite my fear of the situation, and anger at the injustice of it, I had an urge to laugh. They'd threatened me with a murder charge over this? Had they pulled in everyone from the body stacks who'd failed to save a defrost from dying of a heart attack? That must be most of the kids on my shift. Didn't these people know anything about the body stacks at all? "When I got the first defrost alarm, I didn't know what to do," I said. "We're just supposed to patrol and look for maintenance issues." The bronze man was already scowling impatiently, so I hurried on as fast as I could. "I called my supervisor. He told us Game world Avalon had crashed, and to focus on medical alerts. I headed for my medical alert location as fast as I could, but getting there within three minutes was utterly impossible." "Explain why," ordered the woman. Her voice had a hissing, snake-like quality, as unpleasant as the face she'd chosen. "I went by the quickest route," I said. "I drove my buggy at top speed, and that was faster than I could have run, but it still took a very long time." The bird glanced off to the side. "Twelve minutes," it said, in clipped, precise tones that could have been either male or female. "Her buggy tracker shows maximum speed and no route deviations." "Twelve minutes on the shortest route!" The woman spat out the words. "Why were you so far away from your patrol area?" "I was inside my patrol area, following my designated route, but my area is huge." I tried to explain the sheer scale of the problem. "There are about fifty billion frozen Gamers in the body stacks. I work in Long Stay Area 31, which has about a billion. Red Sector has two hundred million of those. I patrol Red Sector Block 2, which holds ten million freezer units. Those take up a lot of space. 25,000 rows and each row is ..." "Those numbers can't be right." The bronze man cut me off and looked at the bird. The bird took a while before replying this time. "Her figures are correct." The woman frowned. "That's a completely unacceptable area for one person to patrol." She raised a hand. The three images instantly vanished, leaving me with a featureless wall again. I stood there for a moment longer, hesitated, then sat down on the bed again and tried to think things through. If Unilaw officials really had pulled in thousands of kids from the body stacks, they wouldn't have enough active staff to question them, so they'd probably called in retired Unilaw members to help. Adults who'd paid their lifetime subscription wouldn't normally agree to work again, but they'd make an exception in a crisis like this. I hadn't had a chance to pick up my phone when I was dragged off for questioning, so I'd no way to check the time. I thought I'd been sitting there for about another two hours before the wall changed again. I saw that my three questioners were back, but they'd brought reinforcements with them. Two standard human faces, one male and one female, with bronze metallic insignia on each cheek. These were two of the all-powerful Game Techs who designed and ran the worlds of Game! I was being questioned by two Game Techs! My vision started blurring and I felt giddy, but I scrambled off the bed and dug my nails into my palms. I couldn't let myself faint. The bronze man spoke. "How many of you were involved in the bombing?" "Bombing?" I heard my voice squeak. "What bombing?" "Don't waste our time with evasion," said the woman. "How many of you were involved with the bombing that destroyed the Avalon server complex?" "It was a bomb? I didn't know that. My supervisor only told us that Avalon Game world had crashed." I was bewildered. I'd heard of bombings, but there hadn't been any in centuries. "How could you be unaware of what has been broadcast on every news channel both in and out of Game?" asked the bird. "The Avalon server complex was destroyed by a bomb, and eleven thousand, two hundred, and ninety seven people died during the emergency defrosts." The number of deaths overwhelmed me. I'd expected hundreds of people to have died during the emergency defrosts. I'd feared the total death toll might be as high as the over two thousand casualties in the Rhapsody disaster. I hadn't allowed for the fact that Avalon was an old and popular Game world with a very high population. Once I'd absorbed the magnitude of the deaths, the second point hit me. The Avalon server complex had been destroyed by a bomb. I was being questioned by Unilaw about a bombing that had killed over eleven thousand Gamers! This wouldn't just damage my future in Game, it would utterly destroy it. I fought against my panic and tried to answer the bird's question. "I assumed there'd been a freak failure of the server complex. I worked to the end of my twelve-hour shift and through half of the next one as well to help deal with the defrosts. When everyone had been sent back into Game on other worlds, my supervisor let the people on my shift leave. I was so exhausted that I went back to my room and fell asleep straight away." "Sleep," the woman repeated the word as if she barely recognized it. "I'd forgotten about that. It's been such a long time since I needed sleep." The bird glanced sideways. "The girl's medical chip verifies her story of going directly to her room. There is no record of her accessing any news programmes." "Unbelievable," muttered the bronze man. He was silent for a moment, and then suddenly threw another question at me. "Why did you want to kill your father?" "What?" I realized I'd yelled the word. "I'm sorry," I added hastily. "You mean that my father died in the world crash? But he can't have died. It was Avalon that crashed, wasn't it? My supervisor said Avalon crashed." I clung to that thought. "My father can't be dead. He lives on Ganymede, not Avalon." "Your father was visiting a friend on Avalon when the bomb exploded, and died during emergency defrost," said the bird. My father was dead! I felt horribly sick, forgot all about the importance of being respectful to adults, and just wailed my distress aloud. "The man in my block who died? That was my father? I didn't know his body was stored in Red Sector Block 2. The freezer units just have codes. Even when I opened the lid and saw him, I didn't know. I'd never seen his flesh face. I didn't know. I didn't know. I didn't know." "Quiet!" said the woman. I put my right hand to my mouth, biting on my forefinger to keep myself quiet. "Your father died in the Avalon crash," said the bird, "but his body was stored in Long Stay Area 11, Yellow Sector Block 3." Despite its strange, inhuman face and voice, it somehow had an air of sympathy the others were lacking. I sagged with relief. The idea that I'd looked at my own father's body and not known ... "In my opinion," said the bird, "we're wasting our time interrogating this girl." "She was flagged twice on our system," said the bronze man. "Once as having a death in her patrol area." "As did thousands of others," said the bird. "And again as having a parental death in the crash," the bronze man added. "She has also expressed dissent at the Leebrook Ashton bill. That's a third flag against her." A recording started playing. I was startled to hear Nathan's voice. "It stinks, doesn't it?" My own voice replied. "You're almost eighteen too?" "My eighteenth birthday was two days ago." "Do you work for Supervisor Fraser too?" There was a clicking sound as the recording ended. "The dissent was not expressed by her." For once, the woman seemed to be on my side. "Jex, what is your opinion of the Leebrook Ashton bill?" "I was disappointed to have to wait another year before I could enter Game, but I understood the reasons for it," I said. "Each year, the Game population and number of Game worlds grows, and so does the amount of maintenance work to be done in the real world." What I desperately wanted to say at this point was that the billions of adults in Game should be taking on more of that work. I'd no complaint against the adults who'd recently entered Game and were still working. I just felt the ones who'd paid their lifetime subscriptions, and had been living a life of blissful idleness for decades or even centuries, should be contributing something as well. Given the vast number of lifetime subscription holders in Game, each of them would just need to work for a month or two every century to solve the issue of the increasing amount of maintenance to be done. Of course none of them had considered that answer. Rather than spend a few hours using a controlled droid to do simple jobs like riding patrol in the body stacks, they'd voted to dump the whole burden on kids like me. I knew that if I said any of those things I'd instantly be charged with the Avalon bombing, so I fought to keep my words and tone of voice totally neutral. "Once adults have paid their lifetime subscription to Game, they've no incentive to spend time working. The school leaving age was already down to ten years old, so it couldn't be reduced any further. That meant the only remaining option was to raise the legal age where children become adult and can enter Game." The bird had been looking off sideways again, but now its head snapped round to stare at me. I'd no idea why. The woman made an impatient noise. "You call this three flags against the girl? She was disappointed by the bill, as every child must have been. She failed to save a Gamer due to the appalling size of her patrol area, an administrative matter that must be addressed. Her father died in the server crash, but I can't see how that could benefit her unless he had a fortune in Game credits to bequeath her." The two Game Techs had been totally silent until now, observing my questioning with unreadable, impassive faces. Now the male Game Tech spoke in a heavily formal voice. "After her father paid his lifetime subscription, he had less than ten credits remaining in his account." "Then we have nothing against her," said the woman. She and the bronze man looked at the bird, and its feathers rippled as it shook its head. "The girl lives and works hundreds of miles from the bombing site. There's no record of her leaving her home area recently or contacting anyone outside it. Release her." I hadn't realized the bird was the one in charge here, but it had just given an order, and everyone else was hastily nodding in acceptance, even the two Game Techs. That didn't make any sense. A player couldn't be giving orders to Game Techs. The insignia on Game Tech faces showed their hierarchy in a similar way to the bracelets of players, and these two only had bronze insignia, but I knew that silver and gold insignia were very rare indeed, reserved for the highest ranks of Game officials. Even if it was true that these two Game Techs had the lowest possible status, they would still be far more important than mere players. I was distracted by the door of the room opening. I eagerly turned to look at it, and when I glanced back all the faces had vanished. The bird had ordered my release, which seemed to mean I was free to go. I walked tentatively towards the door, and out into the corridor. I'd forgotten which way I'd been brought here, so I took several wrong turnings before I found my way back to the transport stop. I hit the buttons on the wall to summon a single-person pod, and one came rushing up along the rails within a minute. I climbed inside, set the pod guidance system to head for the accommodation block where I lived, and sank back into the seat. My mind was busily rerunning what had happened. The world crash, the screaming alarms, the dead man in the freezer unit, those hostile faces accusing me of murder, and the casual way the bronze man had told me that my father was dead. My first reaction to the news of my father's death had been an avalanche of grief at his loss. That grief was still there, but I was guiltily aware that it was mixed with selfish fears about my own future. Nobody could enter Game unless at least one Game world was willing to accept them as a resident, and what world would accept me now? Even Havoc would turn down someone who'd been questioned by Unilaw about a bombing that killed over eleven thousand people. I'd spent every minute of my life working towards a future that would never happen now. I'd never join the ranks of the immortal Gamers, forever young and beautiful, living their eternal existence of pleasure. The Game self of my dreams, Jex of the silver, feathered hair, had died unborn in the Avalon crash. I'd only the haziest idea of what would happen to me now. I might be able to hide the fact I was a Game reject until I was nineteen, but those around me would notice when I didn't enter Game on my birthday. The suspicious whispers would start then, and gradually grow louder as the months went by and I still didn't enter Game. Sooner or later those whispers would turn into open complaints that a Game reject was living and working with respectable kids. I'd be thrown out of my room, lose my job in the body stacks, and have no option other than to go and live among the other Game rejects in accommodation blocks that were scheduled for demolition. You had to have something very serious on your Game record for all worlds to refuse you as a resident. The rumours said that most Game rejects were involved in violent crimes, and their communities were savagely dangerous places. I covered my face with my hands, comforting myself with the darkness and the warmth of my own breath. We'd been taught to do that in nursery, to calm ourselves when we were frightened. It didn't always work. It wasn't working now. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Three –––––––– When I arrived back at my room, I saw I had less than fifteen minutes before I needed to go back to work. I snatched my phone from where it lay on my bed, set it to play one of the main Game news channels, and listened to a succession of hysterically angry voices while I showered and dressed in clean overalls. I didn't learn any extra facts from all the outrage and fury. Everyone seemed to believe the same thing as the Unilaw officials who'd interrogated me, that some seventeen or eighteen-year-old kids, bitter about the Leebrook Ashton bill, had planted the bomb to get revenge on the players who'd selfishly voted to keep them working in the real world for an extra year. I had to admit that was the obvious answer, but making bombs must surely be incredibly difficult and dangerous. Would a group of kids really take so big a risk just to get revenge, or were they actually attempting to force the adults in Game to repeal the Leebrook Ashton bill and do more of the work themselves? I paused in the act of brushing my hair, and considered that possibility for a moment. I agreed that the system needed changing, but I was utterly opposed to violence as a way of changing it. I thought with fierce, protective anger of the man who'd died in my area of the body stacks. Over eleven thousand others had died the same way. My own father had died that way! Whatever their motives, the bomber or bombers needed to be caught and stopped from ever doing this again. I hoped that Unilaw would manage that, but the fact I'd been on their suspect list didn't fill me with confidence. I was in danger of being late for work and fined half my pay for the day. That seemed a very minor worry now, but I hastily finished brushing my hair into order, and filled my drinking bottle. Since I wasn't allowed to take my phone to work with me, I turned it off and tossed it onto my unmade bed. As I headed for the door, I automatically reached for the sandwich packs that should have been waiting ready on the shelf. It wasn't until my hand grabbed thin air that I remembered I hadn't bought any sandwich packs yesterday. I wouldn't have time to call in at a food outlet to buy any on my way to work, and I'd rather go hungry than eat the overpriced, revolting sandwiches from the vending machines at transport stops. I snatched a couple of nutrient bars from my emergency store and sprinted out of the door. I ate my breakfast of one of the nutrient bars on the pod ride, washed down the dryness of it with a few mouthfuls of water from my bottle, and arrived at the body stacks' transport stop closest to my current patrol position with two minutes to spare. I stepped out of the pod, and saw Delora was already waiting on the platform with the buggy. "All quiet?" "Finally." She took my place in the pod, and leant back in the seat with a look of bliss on her face. I watched in envy as the pod whooshed off along the rails. Delora's shift had been off-duty when the bombing and defrosts happened. She hadn't been questioned by Unilaw, so she still had a future as an immortal player in Game, while I would live and die in the real world. I was dead on my feet from strain and exhaustion, but I climbed onto the buggy, wondering if it was possible to ride it in my sleep. "Jex checking in," I told it, and trundled at standard buggy speed through the entrance to the body stacks. "You have new instructions," the buggy announced. I groaned. If I could somehow stay awake, I might manage standard patrol, but nothing that required any thought. "Your patrol starting point has changed to row 37,500." That meant backtracking to a point I'd already patrolled, but I was paid to do what the buggy said, not argue with it, so I set off to row 37,500. When I arrived there, I expected to start patrolling the rows of freezer units, but the buggy spoke again. "Await further orders." I sat there dutifully awaiting further orders. After a minute or two, Nathan arrived on his buggy, and parked it next to mine. He looked as exhausted as I felt, and clearly hadn't found time to shower or change his crumpled clothes from yesterday. "Await further orders," his buggy told him. Nathan dismounted from his buggy, backed away a short distance, and beckoned to me. I hesitated a moment before wearily climbing off my own buggy and following him. "Did Unilaw pick you up for questioning too?" he whispered. Nathan seemed to think we were out of range of our eavesdropping buggies. I was less sure about that, but there was little point in worrying about recordings damaging my future when it had already been destroyed. "Yah. You had someone die then?" Nathan nodded. There was a short silence. I didn't want to talk about the man who'd died in my patrol area, and I could tell Nathan felt the same way about whoever had died in his. "Did you get two Game Techs, a bronze man, a woman, and a bird?" I asked. He nodded again. "The man was from Automaton. The woman confused me for a while, then I worked out she was a bald harpy from Cliffs. I couldn't make sense of the bird at all. I still can't. There are several worlds where players have a bird form, but they all have faces that are far more human than that one." "Whatever it was, the Game Techs seemed just to be present as observers, while the bird was in charge of the interrogations." "I agree the Game Techs were there purely as observers," said Nathan, "they didn't say a word during my interrogation, but the bird wasn't in charge of anything. The bird, the man, and the woman all wore Unilaw rank badges on their collars, and those showed the woman was a Unilaw Area Commander, while the bird and the man were only Senior Detectives." I shrugged. "I don't know anything about Unilaw ranks, I just know that the bird was the one who decided my interrogation was over. From the way the others instantly accepted the decision, the bird was definitely in charge." "But that doesn't make sense," said Nathan. "If the bird was more important than an Area Commander, why was it wearing the rank badge of a Senior Detective?" I sighed. "I've no idea, but there's no point in us arguing over who was in charge of interrogating us. All that matters is the interrogations happened. Our Game records will show that we were picked up by Unilaw and questioned about the bombing of the Avalon server." I dragged my fingers through my hair. I'd accepted the full extent of the disaster now. The Avalon world crash had robbed me of both my father and my future. My mother would react to a situation like this by pretending it hadn't happened, but I preferred to face up to my problems. I did that now, forcing myself to say the grim words that summed up the utter destruction of all my hopes and plans. "We're both Game rejects now." There was silence for a few seconds before Nathan spoke with a forced optimism. "Perhaps it won't be that bad." "It's exactly that bad, Nathan," I said, with the calmness of despair. "No Game world is going to accept either of us." "We can't apply to enter Game until we're nineteen now," said Nathan. "Unilaw will have caught the real bomber by then. We'll be able to forget all about the Avalon bombing and carry on with our lives." I winced at his words. "I'll never be able to forget the bombing, Nathan. I was told during my questioning that my father was on Avalon when it crashed. He died during emergency defrost." Nathan looked appalled. "I'm terribly sorry to hear that." I couldn't bear to talk about my father any longer, so I hastily changed the subject. "I wouldn't trust Unilaw to catch a mouse, let alone a bomber, but even if they do it won't help us very much. I was listening to some players talking on a Game news channel a few minutes ago. They're utterly irrational with anger about the bombing, and anger like that won't fade in decades or even centuries." I paused. "Whether the real bomber has been caught or not, the Admission Committees for every Game world will still take one look at the questioning on our records, suspect we were secretly involved as accomplices, and block our applications." Nathan stared bleakly down at the floor. "That's not fair." I didn't say anything. I'd learnt as a small child in a dormitory that life wasn't fair. Those who caused trouble often escaped punishment, while their innocent victims got blamed. I'd learnt the lesson again as a medical cadet, when an instructor dropped me from the training programme to cover up her own mistake. The same thing was happening yet again. Whether the bomber was caught or not, the innocent kids working in the body stacks would suffer because of his or her actions. "Incoming orders," announced the buggies in unison. Nathan and I hurried back to sit on our buggies. I was expecting Supervisor Fraser's face to appear on the display screen in front of me, but instead I saw a golden-haired, elven stranger. "I am the senior supervisor for Long Stay Area 31," she said. I could hear the same words echoed from Nathan's buggy, and we exchanged startled glances. "We've just had a conference of all senior supervisors worldwide," she continued. "We are aware that all of you worked well past the end of your last shift, and most of you were called in for questioning later. In the aftermath of the Avalon bombing, regular maintenance patrols are a lower priority than being prepared to cope with any further major crisis. You have all been stationed in the centre of your patrol areas to give you the maximum chance of responding successfully to alarms. You will remain at those points for the whole of this shift unless alarms sound." The woman paused. "You may take the opportunity to rest." Her image vanished from the screen. I sat there for a moment while my sleep-deprived brain absorbed the information, then I climbed down from the buggy and stretched out thankfully on the floor. It was formed of rock hard, unyielding plastic, but it was still blissful to lie down. Nathan got off his buggy, frowned, and then selected a spot that was near to me but at a tactful distance. He lay down, tried several positions in an attempt to get comfortable, and then got his bag from his buggy to use as a pillow. I missed everything that happened in the next six or seven hours, because I was deep in dreamless sleep. –––––––– It wasn't an alarm that woke me, or the buggy announcing the end of my shift, but the sound of heavy footsteps. I opened bleary eyes, saw the legs of a droid beside me, and sat up in panic. Now I could see the droid's head wore the face of the bird that had been in charge of my interrogation. It was here to drag me back to that prison cell! "I'm sorry to wake you," said the bird. Nathan was sitting up too now, his face showing he was stunned by the bird's words. I was stunned too. Adults didn't apologize to children. We were outside Game. We weren't real people yet. "I'm here because it's vitally important to hunt down the Avalon bomber," said the bird. "I think you may be able to assist me." I scrambled to my feet. Nathan literally shook himself, before standing up as well. I still wasn't sure whether I was being arrested or not, but my brain was starting to register some odd things about this droid. It was coloured gold rather than the usual bronze, it had no ownership markings on its chest, and its shape and movements were a more convincing match to a real human being than usual. The droid's head was especially startling. A normal droid's head was a uniform bronze colour, except for the flat front that displayed the face of the adult controlling it from Game. This droid's head had somehow taken on the colours and contours of the full bird head. It even had a crest of feathers that seemed to ripple as it moved, and a beaked mouth that opened and shut as it spoke. I couldn't work out whether the droid's head was genuinely changing shape to create those movements, or it was just a holographic illusion. Either way, the uniqueness of this droid proved I'd been right about the bird being someone very important. "The bombing was a real world crime," said the bird, "so there is a United Law investigation in progress. Since it was a Game server complex that was bombed, there is also an official Game investigation happening in tandem. Finally, since over eleven thousand Gamers died from medical complications arising from emergency defrosts, the players have elected to have their own representative monitoring the progress of both those investigations and reporting back to them. They have asked me to be that player representative." The bird paused for a moment. Nathan and I waited in respectful silence until it started speaking again. "My plan was to liaise with the two official investigations while doing some small-scale investigations of my own, but I've hit a problem. I entered Game centuries ago, and I've never defrosted or used a controlled droid to visit the real world. I've been totally immersed in my life in Game, and when I did spare a few minutes to think about the real world, I assumed it was the same as when I left it." The bird paused again. "This conversation seems horribly one-sided. It would help if one of you would say something occasionally." I exchanged glances with Nathan and spoke cautiously. "We're finding it hard to tell whether you want us to speak or not. Most adults wear a face that's human to some extent, but it's hard to interpret the expressions on yours, and there aren't any clues in your voice either." I held my breath, braced for a reprimand, but the bird just nodded. "You have a point. I asked the Game Techs to give me an anonymous appearance and voice to avoid attracting too much attention. That was useful during the interrogations, and there may be times when it's useful again in future, but now isn't one of them." The droid's head blurred. When it came back into focus, all trace of the bird had vanished. I saw the head of a handsome man, with dark eyes that were filled with laughter, and black, feathered hair that clung closely to his scalp. Nathan and I recognized him instantly and gasped in unison. "My name is Hawk," said the man, in a voice that held all the expressive tones that the bird voice had been missing. "Am I easier to talk to now?" | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Four –––––––– Hawk the Unvanquished was talking to me, casually smiling at insignificant Jex. When the Game started its first ten year trial, there were fewer than a thousand Founder Players. I wouldn't recognize an image of most of them, only knowing they were Founder Players because of the diamond bracelets they wore, but everyone in both real life and Game would recognize Hawk. Death Canyon on Ariel was designed to be an impossible obstacle course for pilots flying that world's archaic biplanes, but Hawk made it through, and stunned Game Techs massed to welcome him as he reached the end. Hawk was the champion of the Battle Arena on Medieval for ten years running and retired unbeaten. Hawk led the outgunned and outnumbered army of Ruby in the famous victory over the forces of Sapphire on Civil War. Those achievements stunned people like me who were interested in the combats and challenges of Game, but it was Hawk's actions in things like the Steppes protest that won the hearts of the wider Game population. Each year on the anniversary of the opening of Game, several new worlds were added. Game world Steppes had problems from the start. Its opening was delayed by last minute technical problems, so it was left out of all that year's publicity about the new worlds, and its treeless plains didn't attract much player interest. At the end of five years, Steppes still had less than ten thousand residents. The Game Techs decided to shut it down as a failure rather than let it gradually turn into another Havoc or Abyss. The residents refused all offers of relocation though. They'd grown to love the vast skies of Steppes, and staged a series of protests to try to save their world. Those protests were failing, ignored by all the major Game news channels, when Hawk arrived on Steppes. He talked a dozen other Founder Players into joining him, and the sight of them in their glittering diamond bracelets drew crowds of reporters. There was an immediate rush of players applying to become residents of Steppes, and the Game Techs decided to upgrade the world rather than abandoning it. They added dazzling night-time auroras and flocks of fire-birds, and Steppes became one of the most popular worlds in Game. I could think of a dozen more stories that I'd heard about Hawk. He wasn't just a Founder Player but a legend in Game. No wonder the terrified players had chosen him to be their representative. Hawk stood there, laughing at our stunned faces. "Perhaps I should have stayed as the bird after all. You still aren't talking to me." He gave us the teasing grin that was so typical of Hawk, and Nathan finally choked out a single word. "Wow." "You're ..." I gulped. "You're my all time hero. You killed the Kraken solo! You ..." I broke off, realizing I must sound like a gushing fool. "That was less impressive than it sounds," said Hawk. "The main problem is wearing down the Kraken so you can reach its weak spot and ... Anyway, forget that. I was explaining to you that I'd stupidly assumed the real world had stayed just the same in the last four centuries." He gave a laugh of self-mockery. "I started controlling this droid about twelve hours ago. The moment I sent it walking out of its storage room at the United Law facility, I could see this world was totally different from the one I'd left behind. The facility corridors were full of controlled droids, but the only people physically present were teenage cadets and a couple of pregnant women." Hawk gave his characteristic, one-shouldered shrug that I remembered seeing in dozens of replays of him in Game. "I told myself I should have expected that given everyone enters Game at eighteen now, but a host of trivial physical details keep bothering me." He turned to point at Nathan's buggy. "Why is there a dark blue apple on that buggy seat?" "Because I was planning to eat it later," said Nathan. "I guessed someone was planning to eat it," said Hawk. "What's worrying me is why it's blue?" Nathan and I exchanged confused looks. "The food outlet had sold out of strawberry apples, and I don't like apple apples, so I bought a blueberry one," said Nathan. Hawk gave an odd shake of his head as if Nathan's answer had somehow made things worse. "And why don't rooms have any windows?" "I know that houses in Game have windows," I said, "but buildings in the real world don't. There's no need for them when everywhere has movement-triggered, artificial lighting." "Yes, but windows aren't just for letting in natural light," said Hawk. "They're to let you admire the views. The small pod things that rush round on railway lines have windows, so why don't the rooms?" I'd no idea what to say to that. I'd dreamed of having my own house with windows on Ganymede, because I'd have the stunning view of Jupiter in the sky. I'd never considered the idea of having a window in the real world. Even if it had been possible for my room to have a window, which it wasn't because it didn't have an outside wall, the view from it would have just been an area of litter-strewn grass, a couple of broken delivery trolleys, and the wall of the next apartment block. "The windows in pods are to let you see where you are, so you know if you've reached your destination transport stop or the pod is just pulling in to let an express carriage overtake," said Nathan. "Rooms don't need windows because they don't move." Hawk still didn't seem entirely happy with our explanations. "There's the odd, faintly green colour of the overhead lighting too." Nathan and I automatically glanced up at the ceiling. The lights seemed fine to me. Hawk looked at our uncomprehending faces and sighed. "I told myself that odd physical changes didn't matter. I was reassured to discover the teenage cadets talked using almost identical words and phrases to the ones teenagers used when I entered Game. There was just the odd quirk, like the way they sometimes abbreviated United Law to Unilaw, but otherwise speech seemed to have changed surprisingly little in four centuries." I frowned. Didn't Hawk realize that there was nothing surprising about kids today using the same words and phrases as they had four centuries ago? We all slavishly copied the speech patterns of the players we saw on the Game news channels and in replays of Game events, particularly famous Founder Players like Hawk, to prepare for when we entered Game ourselves. "I was fooled into thinking that teenagers' words hadn't changed much so their lives hadn't changed much either," said Hawk, "but then I was invited to sit in on the interviews of older teenage workers from the body stacks." He pulled a pained face. "I dropped out of the first few interviews within a minute or two because the teenagers were too hysterical with fear to speak. Nathan, you were calmer than most, but usually limited your answers to a simple yes or no. Jex, you were by far the most articulate, and said a lot of things that shocked me, like the point about the school leaving age being down to ten." There was an oddly vulnerable tone to his voice now. "When I entered Game, teenagers went to school until they were eighteen, and many kept studying for years after that. I'd been aware that the school leaving age had been reduced a couple of times since I entered Game, but I assumed it would still be something like fifteen or sixteen. When I learned that children left school and started work at ten years old, I knew this world bore no resemblance at all to the one I'd left behind, and I'd absolutely no chance of doing my job properly." The golden droid's hands waved in a gesture of helplessness. "I can't help hunt down which teenagers planted a bomb when I've no idea what's normal life for teenagers today. I can't judge the progress and decisions of the Game or Unilaw investigations when I don't know the most basic facts about this world. I told the players that I was resigning. I said they needed someone new to Game to do this job, someone who was familiar with the real world as it is now. The players wouldn't accept my resignation though. They aren't willing to trust an unknown new player to represent their interests." His voice suddenly changed from wistful to briskly businesslike. "I'm stuck with my job, and that means I have to do some rapid learning about what the world is like today. I especially need to learn about how teenagers live and work, so I came here to see you two working." Hawk had come to see us working and he'd found us asleep on the floor! I flushed with embarrassment and rushed into a hasty explanation. "The senior supervisor said our shift could rest unless there was another emergency. We'd worked long past the end of our last twelve-hour shift, and then Unilaw dragged us in for questioning, and ..." "I understand why you needed sleep," Hawk interrupted me. "You work twelve-hour shifts here?" "Yah," Nathan and I chorused the word. "We get a half an hour mid-shift break," Nathan added. Hawk winced. "Working twelve hours a day in Game might be bearable because you'd still have twelve hours a day to enjoy yourselves, but in the real world most of that time must be taken up sleeping." He turned to look round at the rows of freezer units. "Jex, you said in your interview that you patrol the body stacks looking for maintenance issues. That means riding your buggy along the rows of freezer units, looking for ones showing signs of failure?" "Yah," I said. "I mean, no. We ride patrol on the buggies, but we aren't checking the freezer units. Those are designed to last at least ten thousand years without maintenance, and have their own control systems monitoring them. Our job is to check for external problems like water damage and potential roof collapses." Hawk glanced up at the ceiling. "Aren't there more interesting jobs that you could be doing?" "Most of the interesting work involves signing up for a career path when you're eleven," said Nathan. "You spend the years until you enter Game as a cadet in training, and then work from within Game for another forty years after that." "You didn't want to make that long a commitment?" asked Hawk. Nathan was looking defensive now. "I accept there are big advantages in taking the career path route. Cadets have better accommodation and shorter working hours than standard. Once they finish training and enter Game, they get their annual subscriptions paid each year, and their lifetime subscription paid when they complete their forty year term and retire. I didn't try it because there are a hundred kids competing for every space on a cadet training course, and none of the possible careers interested me." He shrugged. "I've been taking the alternative approach of saving as many credits as I could before I entered Game. My plan was to allow myself a six month holiday and then start work again using a controlled droid. I'd calculated I would be able to pay my annual Game subscription each year and still save enough to pay my lifetime subscription within thirty years." I'd listened to a lot of kids saying similar things. Their estimates of how long it would take them to pay their lifetime subscriptions varied from a conservative forty years, to a wildly optimistic twenty years. The truth was that it usually took people far longer than they estimated. If you didn't have a career commitment forcing you to work regular hours, then it was easy to give way to the temptation to spend more and more time exploring the delights of Game. My mother had fallen into that trap, working and saving hard for her first year or two in Game, and then getting sucked into a daily round of parties and socializing. She gradually worked fewer hours each year, until she was barely working enough to cover her annual Game subscription. By the time she'd been in Game for eighty years, she was the only one of her friends still working, the only one still wearing a silver rather than a gold bracelet. The others had paid their lifetime Game subscriptions years or decades earlier. When her friends started visiting worlds that wouldn't accept anyone in a silver bracelet, my mother was left behind for days or weeks at a time. She was desperate to pay her lifetime subscription quickly, and the fastest way to get the extra credits she needed was to sign up to have a child, but returning to the real world was incredibly hard for her after spending so long enjoying the luxurious life of Game. My mother had hated every minute of the year it took for her to have her eggs harvested, fertilized, implanted, and then go through the process of pregnancy and giving birth. "What about you, Jex?" Hawk's voice dragged me back to reality. I hesitated before reluctantly replying. "I signed up for the career path route to becoming a doctor." "Something went wrong?" There was a sympathetic note in Hawk's voice. "You didn't get a place on the training course?" I couldn't talk about how I'd been robbed of my future as a doctor now. Not when I'd just been robbed of my future in Game as well. I dodged the question. "I got a place on the course, but not all the medical cadets make it through to the end of training and qualify as doctors. I was dropped from the course a year ago." "So you've been doing the same as Nathan since then, saving up for your annual and lifetime Game subscriptions?" asked Hawk. "Yah," I said. "Women have a big advantage when it comes to saving up for their lifetime Game subscriptions though," said Nathan. "They can use the baby bonus shortcut. Men don't get paid anything for fathering children." Given I'd just been thinking about the problems my mother had had returning to the real world, I couldn't help glaring at him. "Nathan, fathering a child just involves giving consent for your DNA sample to be used. Are you really claiming a man should get the same bonus payment as the mother who has to spend a year in real life having the baby?" Nathan took a nervous step backwards. "Point," he acknowledged. "I just meant that you could earn a lot of credits very quickly. Especially if the doctors decide it's safe for you to have twins. Are you rated for twins, Jex?" "I'm not sharing my medical history with you, Nathan," I said coldly. Actually, I was twin rated. My mother had a health issue that made the doctors restrict her to having single pregnancies. I'd expected to have inherited the same problem, but was pleasantly surprised when I had my sixteenth birthday assessment. My tests all came back clear, and the doctors were happy to rate me for twins. I realized I was being unfair to Nathan. He didn't know how much my mother had loathed her time in the real world having a baby, or how it had affected her relationship with me. "I think I'd like to have children eventually," I added in a friendlier voice, "but not because of the baby bonus. My father was a good parent, calling me every week from Game. I'd like to do the same for my own children one day." Even as I said the words, a new thought hit me. It would be unfair of me to have children now, because having a Game reject for a mother would be a blight on their future. I was hit by a wave of emotion that was oddly similar to how I'd felt when I heard my father was dead. Fortunately Hawk didn't ask me any more questions, just wandered across to the nearest freezer unit. He put out a golden hand as if about to clear the grime from the viewing window, but abruptly frowned and moved away again. "There's something deeply disturbing about this place," he said. "My life in Game has always seemed totally real to me. I'm standing in my castle right now, wearing a virtual visor that shows me the view from this droid's eyes, a microphone that transmits my voice, and a sensor net that makes the droid copy my movements." I was startled by Hawk's mention of a castle, though I shouldn't have been. Ordinary players in Game had a house that varied in design depending on the particular world where the player was a resident, but I knew the rules were different for Founder Players. They had diamond bracelets, their own private world of Celestius which no other players were allowed to enter, and castles in the air rather than houses on the ground. Hawk was still talking. "I'm seeing freezer units that hold the frozen bodies of players, and thinking that somewhere there's a freezer unit holding my own frozen physical body. I could take this droid to that freezer unit, and stand looking down at myself. I could even touch my own body. Which one of me would be real then? The virtual Hawk in Game, the droid I'm controlling, or the frozen body that I left behind four hundred years ago?" He didn't wait for an answer, just gave a violent shake of his head. "I'd like to leave the body stacks now and see where you live. Could you take me to your rooms?" I exchanged panic stricken glances with Nathan. The idea of showing our rooms to Hawk was deeply embarrassing, but we couldn't refuse a request from a legendary Founder Player. "If that's all right," said Hawk. "Yah." Nathan's voice had an odd, strangled note. "It's just that we'll get into trouble if we leave work before the end of our shift." "I'll make arrangements with your supervisors," said Hawk. "Moment." He glanced sideways, as if he was looking at something we couldn't see. There was a long pause and then he nodded. "That's all sorted. Let's go." Hawk walked away in the direction of the nearest transport stop, moving at the usual rapid, tireless pace of controlled droids. Nathan and I shared another look of despair before getting on our buggies and driving after him. There was a four-person pod waiting at the transport stop. I didn't bother trying to work out whether Hawk had arrived in it, or summoned it when he was making arrangements with our supervisor. My mind was fully occupied with picturing the state of my room when I left for work, particularly the heap of discarded clothes on my unmade bed. I was desperately trying to work out the crucial point of whether my underwear had been on top of the overalls or hidden underneath them. I had a bad feeling that the underwear was on top. Hawk paused by the massive black cube of the transport stop vending machine, and studied the slowly scrolling display of its contents and prices. "Sandwiches. Soap. Socks. Sweets. Does this machine really sell all these things?" "Yah," said Nathan. "Things like overalls and phones too. You can order items that aren't in the basic range as well, but those get delivered to your room." "Do you buy all your things from these machines then?" asked Hawk. "Most things except food," I said. "I'd rather eat the vending machine socks than the sandwiches." Hawk finally lost interest in the vending machine, and we all climbed into the pod. "Where are we going first?" he asked. I wanted to get the embarrassment over with as quickly as possible. "We can go to my room first. It's in one of the nearest big accommodation blocks." I punched numbers into the pod guidance system, and it started moving. "If we're going to meet a lot of people in this accommodation block, then I'd better change back to being the bird," said Hawk. "I don't want to attract a crowd of onlookers." I glanced at the time display on the pod guidance system. "I doubt if anyone will see us at all. The kids on the same shift as me will all be at work, and those on the alternate shift will be asleep." "What about the career cadets and anyone who isn't working today?" asked Hawk. "Cadets have rooms in special class A accommodation blocks, and kids work every day unless they're having medical treatment," I said. There was total silence for the next few minutes. When our pod stopped, I led the way onto the platform, past the broken double doors that had been stuck open for the last three weeks, and through a maze of corridors to my room. Once I'd punched my combination into the lock, I opened the door and sprinted across to the clothes strewn on the bed. My underwear was, as I'd feared, on top of the overalls, but it just took one lightning movement of my hand to yank the sheet down to cover the whole lot. I relaxed, turned round, and was filled with embarrassment again as I saw both Nathan and Hawk were looking at the set of Game pictures on my wall. The droid Hawk had a bemused expression on his face as he studied the image of his Game self fighting the Kraken. Nathan was examining the picture next to that, which showed the silver-haired Jex on Ganymede. Depression overwhelmed me, sweeping away trivial emotions like embarrassment. For the last year, I'd been looking at that image of the future Jex on my wall, dreaming of walking the beaches of Ganymede, fantasizing about spending time with my father and getting to know him better. Perhaps the fantasies about my father had always been unrealistic. Most people would say he'd more than fulfilled his obligations to me by calling me regularly when I was a child and offering to act as my sponsor when I entered Game. They'd say it was unreasonable of me to hope that he'd spend time with me when I was a player as well. I'd never know the truth now that my father was dead. The sound of Hawk's voice intruded on my misery. "You work a twelve-hour shift each day, Jex, but you can't afford a better room than this?" I stared blankly at the Hawk droid for a moment, then realized he'd finally torn himself away from the image of himself fighting the Kraken, and was looking round at the rest of my room. My brain gradually made sense of his question and I forced myself to answer. "When you're a cadet, all your food and accommodation is provided, so you only get a modest payment in credits. I didn't save much of that, because I expected to have my subscriptions paid for me when I entered Game. When I was dropped in mid-training, I was left with just under a year to save enough credits to pay my first annual subscription to Game, so I had to get the cheapest possible room." "I'd no idea that teenagers would be so focused on paying Game subscriptions," said Hawk. "Volunteers for the ten year trial period of Game didn't have to pay anything, and we were all credited with lifetime subscriptions when Game opened to the general public. I've plenty of friends who aren't Founder Players, but they all paid their lifetime subscriptions long ago." He studied the shelf with my store of nutrient bars. "I hope these things aren't all you get to eat." Nathan seemed to have worked out that I was upset, because he answered that question for me. "We get our meals and sandwich packs from food outlets." Hawk nodded. "I can hear a strange thumping noise." "That's the plumbing," I said wearily. "The main circulation pump for this accommodation block is on the other side of my wall. I get an extra discount off my room rent because of the noise." Hawk turned to look at the Game pictures on my wall again. "You're thinking of starting in Game on Ganymede, Jex?" "Yah, but that's not possible now." "Why not?" asked Hawk. "My father was a resident of Ganymede and was going to sponsor me, but now he's dead and ..." Another wave of emotion hit me. I let the words trail off and rubbed moisture from my eyes. "There are very strong feelings in Game about the deaths in the Avalon world crash," said Hawk. "I'm sure Ganymede will honour your father's memory by offering resident status to his daughter." I was sure Ganymede would be willing to offer me resident status for my father's sake, right up until the Admission Committee saw my Game record and discovered Unilaw had questioned me about the bombing. After that, they'd never let me set foot on the sands of their beaches. Hawk obviously didn't understand that, and I was in no state to explain it to him. Hawk turned towards the door. "Thank you for showing me your room, Jex. It's helped me understand just how much teenagers focus their lives on their futures in Game, and how angry they must have been to have to wait an extra year to start living their dreams. Can we all move on to Nathan's room now?" Nathan and Hawk headed out of the door. Hawk's words showed he expected me to go with them, but I hesitated. My phone was still lying on my bed, and its message light was flashing. If we ended up going back to the body stacks, and my buggy detected I had a phone with me, then I'd lose my job, but that flashing light might mean my mother had sent me a message about my father's death. I couldn't walk away from that flashing light. If Hawk took us back to the body stacks, I'd just have to throw this phone away and buy another from a vending machine later. I grabbed the phone, stuffed it into the pocket of my overalls, and chased after Hawk and Nathan. When we arrived back at the transport stop and stepped into a pod, I hoped I'd have the chance to check my phone messages on the journey, but I was out of luck. Nathan's room turned out to be in another of this cluster of accommodation blocks, so the pod had barely finished accelerating before it was braking again. I could see a tense, embarrassed expression on Nathan's face as he led us to his room. I wondered if it was because he'd left clothes on display as well, or because his room was hideously untidy. Nathan didn't seem the type of boy to have decorated his room with pictures of semi-naked women. He opened the door, we went inside, and I blinked in shock. Nathan's room was larger than mine because this was a class C accommodation block. There was a neatly made bed, and one wall with shelves holding obsessively well-organized piles of clothes and possessions. It was the other three walls that stunned me. Every inch of them was covered with pieces of paper, each one holding what seemed to be a hand-drawn image of a player or creature from Game. I took a step closer to the nearest wall, and saw there were notes written on the papers too. Comments about things like shapeshifting to water form made sense to me, but there were a lot of abbreviations and what I guessed were technical terms as well. I was awed by how much time Nathan must have spent working on these, and then I remembered that the buggies in the body stacks scanned us for forbidden electronic devices like phones, but would ignore simple paper and pencils. "I see you're aiming to become a Game Tech, Nathan," said Hawk. "Is that another reason you didn't sign up for a career path? You have to be free of other commitments to apply to become a Game Tech?" "Yah," Nathan said swiftly, using the defensive tones of someone who'd suffered a lot of cruel teasing about his ambition. "I know that the candidates who make it through the application screening phase can have to wait decades or even centuries before they're actually recruited as Game Techs. I'm also well aware that nine out of ten candidates will never be recruited at all, but my dream is to help design new Game worlds one day so ..." He broke off for a moment, clearly struggling with his emotions, then spoke again in a calmer voice. "Official Game policy is to keep everything about world and creature creation totally secret from players to avoid spoiling their Game experience. That means the Game design courses in schools only teach the very basics, but I've been trying to work things out for myself." Hawk glanced up at the ceiling. "I can see that." I looked up at the ceiling myself, and was stunned to see that was covered with papers as well. Now I knew why Nathan never complained about the boredom of working in the body stacks. I knew why he was so incredibly knowledgeable about all the different Game worlds. I knew the reason he wanted to start in Game on a brand new world with all the latest advances in worldscape and creature design. All Nathan's oddities made far more sense now. "Have you put in your Game Tech application yet?" asked Hawk. "Yah," said Nathan, in a depressed voice. "Candidates enter their applications and take their screening tests a few months before they enter Game. I was called in for mine before the Leebrook Ashton bill increased the age for entering Game. I scored very highly on the technical aptitude test, and the personality assessment test rated me extremely suitable, so I made it through the application screening phase." Hawk stepped closer to one of the walls, studied a piece of paper, and then moved on to a second and a third. I grabbed my chance to sneak my phone out of my pocket, and furtively checked my messages. There were two text messages. The first message was the official notification of my father's death. It said that as his next of kin, I would be informed of funeral arrangements in due course. The other message was from the girl who lived in the room next to mine. There was nothing from my mother. It was foolish of me to have thought there might be. My mother always avoided anything unpleasant, and you couldn't get more unpleasant than my father's death. I automatically checked the message from my neighbour, expecting it to be about meeting for a meal tomorrow, and was shocked by the words I saw. "Get out of here before the rest of us force you to leave." I didn't understand how my neighbour knew I'd been questioned about the Avalon bombing, but then I remembered the boy who'd seen me dragged off by the Unilaw droid. He'd have guessed that was connected with the bombing, told all the kids in neighbouring rooms, and the news would have spread rapidly round our accommodation block and beyond. I didn't know any of the kids in my accommodation block very well – I'd left all my true friends behind when I was dropped from my medical training – so they'd naturally react by ordering me to leave. It wouldn't matter whether they thought I was innocent or guilty. They'd be afraid that just living on the same corridor as me, or saying hello to me in passing, would get them dragged in for questioning by Unilaw as my accomplice. I bit my lip. Once I got back to my room, I'd have to pack my things and leave. I'd probably find myself jobless within days as well. "I'm sure you've a very good chance of being recruited as a Game Tech, Nathan," said Hawk. "You must be exceptionally gifted to have worked out so much about Game creatures that you've only seen in replays of Game events." "Yah, but ..." Nathan broke off his sentence, seemed to hesitate for a second, and then his expression changed to that of someone about to make a desperate gamble. I realized he was going to explain about the problem with our Game records, and appeal to Hawk to help us. I felt my hands clench in tension. I hated the idea of begging anyone for help, and it was horribly presumptuous of us to make demands on a Founder Player like Hawk, but this was the only hope for both Nathan and me. If Hawk would just put a few words on our Game records, say that we'd been helpful, it would change everything for us. I listened intently as Nathan started talking, ready to join in with my own plea. "When we were questioned by Unilaw," Nathan began, "that ..." "Moment." Hawk turned his head to look sideways, clearly distracted by something in Game. There was an agonizing wait of three or four minutes before he spoke again. "I've just had a message from the Avalon Survivors Group. They understand me spending time on the hunt for the bomber, they want whoever was responsible caught as fast as possible, but they'd also like me to visit the bomb site on their behalf." His face twisted in pain. "They shouldn't have had to send me that message. I let myself get too caught up in the interviews and the investigation. I should have realized that my job as player representative isn't just about catching the bomber, but about helping fifty billion distressed players, especially the Avalon survivors, cope with what's happened." He paused. "I have to go to the bomb site as my first priority now. Thank you for giving me a glimpse of your lives." Nathan and I exchanged despairing looks. The moment for asking Hawk for help had gone. I saw Nathan turn to face one of his sketches on the wall. I couldn't be sure what it was without moving closer, but judging from Nathan's mournful expression it was probably his planned future self as a werewolf. "Simple things, like mentioning that a good parent calls their child once a week from Game, have shown me that I know even less about this world than I thought," added Hawk. "Since I can't stay here to learn more from you, I'd like you both to come along and assist me. Would you be willing to do that?" Nathan and I stared at him in a mixture of disbelief and hope, and eagerly spoke in chorus. "Yah." "My job means I'll have access to confidential details about both the Unilaw and Game investigations. The Game news channels have all been warned that they mustn't broadcast anything other than official announcements, because the bomber would get that information too, but I don't entirely trust them. I hope both of you understand that everything you see and hear while you're assisting me has to be kept strictly secret." "Yah," we chorused for the second time. "That's settled then," said Hawk. "Let's get moving." He strode off out of the door, and Nathan and I scurried after him. When we arrived back at the transport stop, our original pod had vanished off to carry other passengers, so Hawk called up a new four-person pod, and we climbed in and sat facing him. The pod started moving. There were no resurrections in the real world like there were in Game. Nothing could bring my father back to me, but I was part of the hunt for the bomber who'd killed him. If that hunt was successful, then Hawk would surely agree to help me and Nathan with comments on our records, and a word of praise from Hawk the Unvanquished would convince the Admission Committee of any world in Game to accept us. There was still a chance that Jex of the silver, feathered hair would live under the glorious sky of Ganymede. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Five –––––––– It couldn't have been more than a two minute ride before the pod stopped. I looked at the opening door in surprise. Hawk had mentioned at the end of my interrogation that the bomb site was hundreds of miles away, so I'd expected us to be making a long journey. Hawk bounced to his feet and lightly stepped out of the pod. His movements were becoming less and less generic and mechanical, and more those of a distinct person. I'd never seen that happen before with a droid. Part of the difference might be because this was an unusual droid, but I was sure most of it was because the incredible Hawk was controlling it. Nathan and I followed Hawk out onto the platform. I saw we were at an interchange with a major express line, and a sleek, long-distance carriage was waiting for us. Hawk wasn't a kid hoarding as many credits as possible to pay their subscription when they entered Game. He probably had an unlimited budget for his work, so it made sense that we'd transfer from a standard pod to one of the much higher speed long-distance carriages for this journey. I expected Hawk to lead us into the carriage, but instead he stood utterly motionless with even his facial expression frozen in place. I guessed he'd disabled the droid controls while he did something else in Game. Nathan and I exchanged puzzled glances, and waited silently. After a few minutes, a delivery trolley whizzed up to me, braked sharply to a halt, and bleeped plaintively. I realized I was standing on the red square that marked the delivery trolleys' navigation and recharge hub for this interchange, and guiltily stepped aside. The trolley trundled forward onto the square, stopped, and its green control lights flashed busily for a few seconds as it checked its location and recharged power. The blue light came on to show it was processing further instructions, and it abruptly turned, rolled across to the long-distance carriage, extended its crane-like arm, and loaded three crates in through the door. We'd obviously been waiting for these crates to be delivered. Did that mean we'd be leaving now? I looked hopefully at Hawk, and saw he'd come back to life again and was watching the delivery trolley roll off to its next job. Judging from the bemused look on his face, delivery trolleys had either been very different back when he entered Game or hadn't existed at all. Hawk gave an odd shake of his head, turned, and went aboard the carriage. Nathan and I hastily followed, and I saw Nathan purse his lips in a soundless whistle of appreciation. This was a large, luxury carriage. It could comfortably hold twenty people, but we seemed to have it all to ourselves. We sat down on plush padded seats, with arms that reached round and embraced us as the carriage started to accelerate. I'd never been in a long-distance carriage before, and I didn't like the sensation of being imprisoned. Fortunately, it was only a few minutes before the grasping arms released us. There was a musical chime, and a recorded voice came from overhead speakers. "We have reached maximum velocity. You are now free to move as you wish. Please return to your seats when the deceleration warning sounds." "I'm afraid we've got to make a very long journey," said Hawk. "I wanted to use this particular controlled droid during my investigation, because it's an experimental model with a lot of anti-surveillance features. You'll think I'm paranoid about reporters, but I've had a lot of problems with them spying on me in the past, and I don't want them messing up this investigation." He stood up and went across to open a crate. "The only problem with using this droid was that it was stored in a United Law facility in what used to be called England in my day, while the bomb site was over five hundred miles away." "This is still called England," I said diffidently. Hawk laughed. "It's nice to know something hasn't changed. Anyway, we'll be going through a sub-ocean tunnel and deep into the heart of Europe." He tossed a sealed plastic bag to me, and another to Nathan. "It'll save a lot of pointless explanations if you two are wearing more official looking clothes while you're helping me. There's a shower at the end of the carriage if you want to freshen up. Catch a couple of hours sleep if you want as well. I don't need sleep myself, so try to grab what opportunities you get, and remind me if I forget you have to rest sometimes." I gestured to Nathan to use the shower first, since my nose was telling me he urgently needed it. He headed off, clutching his plastic bag. While he was off in the shower, I opened my own plastic bag and inspected the contents. Dark blue, tailored top and trousers, with shoes to match. They reminded me of the uniforms I'd worn as a medical cadet, though these were higher quality so probably intended for adults. The tags showed they were my size, so someone must have checked my medical records. I wondered if Hawk had done that himself, or if he had an assistant in Game, looking up information and ordering things for him. Nathan took a long time in the shower. He came back wearing his new clothes and with his hair neatly trimmed, looking rather pleased with himself. I headed off and enjoyed a long shower myself. The cubicle had a lot of accessories, and I couldn't resist trying out some of the ones I'd never encountered before. I had a haircut, a manicure, a body glow, and added a temporary tattoo of blue flowers on my forehead to mimic the way I hoped to look in Game. I dressed in my new clothes, and admired my reflection in the mirror, deciding that I looked even better than I had in my glitz girl days. I finally realized how long I'd been in the shower, and guiltily headed back out to join the others. They were sitting in the seats again. Hawk had the blank expression that meant he was busy in Game. Nathan was staring at the ceiling and looking bored, but he grinned when he saw me coming. "Very nice," he said. "I like the flowers." Hawk's attention returned to us. He gave me a startled look, and then glanced at Nathan. "Much better. I hope you don't mind me saying so, but those baggy things you were wearing were ..." I nodded. "Overalls are cheap and practical, but they aren't much to look at." "Now I think of it, I should improve my own appearance." Hawk's golden droid body blurred for a second, and then came back into focus apparently wearing clothes similar to ours. "Does that give a better effect?" "Oh yah," I said, amazed by the transformation. If you looked closely, you could see the clothes were part of Hawk's droid body, not something he was wearing, but to the casual eye he appeared to be a real man now. I found the effect rather disconcerting. When I was younger, I'd had a lot of fantasies about Hawk, so I felt awkward being so close to what appeared to be his physical presence. "We're still nearly an hour away from our destination," said Hawk, "so you can have a little doze." "Erm." Nathan made an apologetic noise. Hawk looked at him. "What did I forget?" "Would it be possible for us to have some food to eat?" Hawk raised his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. "I ordered clothes. I didn't order food. I knew I was the wrong person for this job. If I can't remember that eating in real life isn't optional then ..." "This is a luxury carriage." I looked round hopefully. "There must be food somewhere." "A luxury carriage will probably respond to voice commands." Nathan paused before speaking in a self conscious voice. "We wish to eat." A table promptly appeared from the wall, with a glowing menu displayed on its surface. "Yah!" cried Nathan. Hawk laughed, and then spent the next half an hour working in Game. Nathan and I spent the time stuffing ourselves with a three course meal of all the rarest delicacies on offer. "Warning," announced the overhead speakers, "deceleration will be starting shortly." Nathan and I sat back in our seats and the table withdrew, taking the remains of my rainbow-coloured dessert with it. The seat arms embraced us in an officious hug, and the carriage braked to a standstill. I was about to see the site of the bombing that had killed my father. I tensed, and my mind started conjuring up visions of mangled bodies. I knew perfectly well that I was being ridiculous. There'd be no bodies here, the people who'd died in the bombing had all been in freezer units scattered across body stacks in different parts of the world, but I still couldn't help imagining horrors like dismembered limbs. I fought to block out the gory visions, followed Nathan and Hawk out of the carriage, and was dazzled by bright sunlight. I lifted my right hand to shade my eyes, and saw this was an open air transport stop, surrounded by an area of mostly flat grassland. I thought it looked a bit like a scene from Game world Meadow, but far more boring without the herds of wild horses and the flocks of glitterwings. I had an odd feeling that something was missing. It took me a moment to work out what was wrong. Every transport stop I'd ever seen had a platform with the red square of a delivery trolley hub next to the massive, black bulk of the vending machine. This platform had a delivery trolley hub but no vending machine. I forgot about the mystery of the missing vending machine, because a welcoming party of six Unilaw officers was hurrying up to greet us. Our interrogations fresh in our minds, Nathan and I exchanged wary glances, and instinctively moved to a position close behind Hawk. The Unilaw officers stepped forward and greeted Hawk with a barrage of compliments. Five of them were the usual Unilaw droids controlled by adults in Game, but I was startled to see a woman who was physically present and very obviously pregnant. She was wearing a silver bracelet on her left arm that was a close imitation of the bracelets players wore in Game. The Leebrook Ashton bill had been carefully worded to make sure that anyone who'd entered Game at eighteen still counted as legally adult if they defrosted. Presumably the bracelet was intended to emphasize that point. I watched impatiently as everyone fawned over Hawk, thought how idiotic they sounded, and then remembered my own reaction to meeting him. I'd been even worse than these people, gushing about Hawk being my all time hero, and eulogizing about him killing the Kraken. I comforted myself with the thought that Hawk would have forgotten all about that by now. He had far more pressing things on his mind than a dumb kid wittering on about how wonderful he was. Hawk took all the hero worship in his stride, acknowledging everyone graciously. Of course he'd had hundreds of years of experience with dealing with adoring fans. "These are my assistants, Nathan and Jex." Hawk gestured at the two of us. "I'm hoping you'll give us a tour of the bomb site." Our escorts led the way along a wide concrete path, past a small storage unit, to where the path split into three narrower ones leading in different directions. We followed the path on the left. "You can see the protective force field of the server complex ahead of us," said one of the droids. "We've got a lot of people going in and out, so we're keeping a gap open." I looked where the droid was pointing and saw a dome-shaped, opaque shimmer in the air. I'd heard about force fields but never seen one before. I frowned. The bombs must have been placed inside the force field or they wouldn't have damaged the server complex. How had the bomber managed to get through the force field? It took us less than five minutes to reach the force field. For the first minute or two of the trip, I walked with studied dignity, trying to look as old and official as possible, but then decided I was wasting my time. Nobody was going to pay any attention to me or Nathan when Hawk was around. They might have noticed if I'd thrown all my clothes off and screamed, but I wouldn't have bet Game credits on it. At close quarters, the force field looked like a strange, glowing curtain. I didn't know what would happen if I touched it, and it seemed a bad idea to try experimenting to find out. I followed our escort through an opening, and grimaced as I saw a zone of devastation. This area of torn earth and rocks, these shreds of plastic, marked the event that had killed my father and thousands of other people. I felt that I should be saying or doing something as a mark of respect, but nothing like this had happened in hundreds of years so I'd no idea what was appropriate. "I should have brought flowers," said Hawk, in a shaken voice. "There'd have needed to be thousands of them though. Eleven thousand, two hundred, and ninety seven flowers." He turned to me. "My condolences, Jex." I knew it was just a droid standing next to me, but I was deeply aware that the pain in the voice I was hearing was that of the real Hawk in Game. I rubbed the back of my hand across my eyes. "Thank you," I said. "We have to find out who did this." The droid hand touched me on the shoulder for the briefest of seconds. "We will find out who did this." There was a moment or two of silence before Nathan spoke in an awkward voice. "My condolences to you too, Jex." "Thanks," I muttered. There was another full minute of silence, and then Hawk walked slowly forward, his head bent as he studied the cratered ground. Our Unilaw escort had been standing still, deferentially watching us, but now they all moved to follow Hawk. I forced my emotions under control, and made myself look round and take in the details of the bomb site. There were a lot of controlled droids scattered round the cratered area. Most of them had the distinctive blue and grey markings of Unilaw on their chests, but a cluster of a dozen Game droids were standing nearby. I saw that the insignia on the faces of most of the Game Techs controlling them weren't the usual bronze colour, but silver, and then I caught sight of one with gold insignia. I realized Nathan had gone to join Hawk, so I was standing alone next to a group of intimidatingly high-ranked Game Techs. I hurried to join Hawk as well. Hawk turned to the Unilaw deputation. "Have you discovered any information about the bomb that was used?" The pregnant woman replied. "The crater pattern shows there were actually four small devices. They exploded simultaneously, triggered by a timing device. We can't be sure of anything else. There hasn't been a bombing for centuries, so we've no Unilaw staff with experience of bombs, and have to work from information in old texts." "You could ask Romulus and Remus to help," said Hawk. "They worked in bomb disposal before they entered Game." The woman looked horrified at the suggestion. "I couldn't possibly trouble two Founder Players. There must be other bomb experts among the players who entered Game in the first century or two." Hawk gave his one-shouldered shrug. "I'm sure there are plenty who'd claim to be experts, but it could be hard to establish if those claims are true or exaggerated. I know Romulus and Remus are genuine experts, and if I can use a controlled droid to help with this crisis then so can they. I'll get Pendragon to have a word with them." Hawk knelt to study the ground in more detail. I didn't know if he could make any sense of the oddments of wreckage strewn around us. I certainly couldn't. I didn't even know what a server complex looked like when it was in one piece. Hawk sighed and stood up again. "I'm not learning much from this. Is it possible for us to see a functioning server complex of identical layout?" I was startled that Hawk had been thinking the same thing as me. Everyone turned and walked back to the gap in the force field, and then there was a brief delay as our escorts conferred with a couple of the Game Techs' droids. Apparently only Game Techs and authorized maintenance crews were allowed to visit server complexes. Given the circumstances, the Game Techs were willing to make an exception for Hawk as the player representative, and Nathan and I as his assistants, but they weren't willing to include the Unilaw deputation. Eventually a four-seater buggy rolled up. The Game Tech droid in the front seat had a face with silver insignia on his cheeks. Hawk sat next to him, Nathan and I climbed into the back seat, and Hawk's fan club watched sadly as we drove off down a path. "Can you please explain the local geography?" asked Hawk. Our driver answered the question, using the standard formal speech of Game Techs. "Server complexes are always located in remote areas with low tectonic activity, no extreme weather conditions, and no risk of flooding. For security reasons, each server complex is at a distance from any other structure and protected by a force field. In this particular area, we have a cluster of a dozen server complexes." I frowned and looked round. There were twelve server complexes in this area. The Avalon server complex was behind us. I could see the force field of another server complex directly ahead of us, which must be our destination. There was what might be another force field over to our right, but it was a long way away. "So twelve Game worlds are run from this area, and the one nearest the transport stop was bombed?" I said the words without thinking, and instantly realized that I shouldn't have spoken in front of a Game Tech. I cringed as I waited for a rebuke, but the Game Tech response was emotionless. "That is correct." Hawk twisted round in his seat to look back at me, "That's a good point, Jex. It's possible Avalon was targeted for a specific reason, but it could have been randomly chosen because it's close to a transport stop." There was silence for the next few minutes. Once we arrived at our destination server complex, the Game Tech droid tapped the controls on the buggy, and an opening appeared in the force field ahead of us. The buggy moved inside, and I saw four small grey buildings standing on bare fused rock. The Game Tech parked the buggy by the buildings, and we all climbed down from our seats. Hawk looked round eagerly. "Fascinating to think this runs one of our Game worlds." He turned to the Game Tech. "You used some sort of security code to get us inside this force field?" "That is correct." "The bombs at the Avalon server complex had been planted inside its force field. That means the bomber had got hold of the Avalon force field security code. Who has access to those codes?" "Only Game Techs and the maintenance crews making weekly inspections." Hawk walked up to the nearest building and peered at the sign on the door. "This server complex runs Destiny Game world, a world created about the same time as Avalon. I suppose all the worlds run by server complexes in this cluster will date from about the same time." He turned to look at the Game Tech droid. "How long does the gap in the force field stay open?" "Two minutes," said the Game Tech. "Maintenance crews take longer than that to do their work, so they have to open the force field again to leave." "And how often are the force field security codes changed?" "Err ... I'm not sure that ..." The calm face displayed on the droid suddenly looked wary, and his formally standardized Game Tech speech pattern faltered. "Are they ever changed?" demanded Hawk. "Possibly not," said the Game Tech. Hawk's voice developed an edge that could cut diamonds. "In the light of the recent bombing, I strongly suggest that all force field security codes are changed immediately." The Game Tech nodded hastily. "I will arrange for them to be changed." "Is a record kept when someone requests a security code?" "I will investigate the possibility of recording such requests in future." "You do that while my assistants and I take a look around the server complex." Hawk led the way into the nearest building, raised his eyes to the grey ceiling, and began chanting. "One, two, three, four, five ..." Nathan and I exchanged looks of bewilderment. "...six, seven, eight, nine, ten," Hawk continued, and then abruptly exploded in anger. "Bleeping idiots! The Game Techs run a dozen Game worlds from this area. There are no guards or surveillance cameras, just a maintenance crew riding round on a buggy once a week. The only defence is the force fields, controlled by security codes they never change. They don't even keep a record of who has those codes. Do you believe that?" He turned to Nathan and me, and we hastily shook our heads. Hawk's ranting didn't seem to be directed at us, but we daren't risk saying a word. "Perhaps it's understandable that they've grown sloppy after hundreds of years without trouble," said Hawk. "I hope the Unilaw lot can handle this situation better than the Game Techs though or we're all totally in the ..." He broke off and gave us a guilty look. "Sorry if I've been yelling a bit. It's not constructive for me to swear at a Game Tech, but I needed to let off a bit of steam." "It's all right," I said cautiously. "We don't even know what bleeping means." "No, of course you wouldn't. I'm four hundred years out of date. More than four hundred years in the case of the swearing, because I learned most of my swear words from Pendragon. He was the eldest of the Founder Players when we entered Game, and it amused him to use swear words that were old fashioned even in his youth. Bleeping is an especial joke of his, because it refers to when they used to bleep out genuine swear words from a recording." He paused. "Back to work now. There seems surprisingly little in this building." Nathan and I exchanged furtive glances, and reached a silent agreement. Hawk seemed to have calmed down but we should still tread extremely warily. Hawk was certainly right about there not being very much in this building. There was just a blank screen on the wall, a pedestal holding a small white box, and an even smaller black box at its base. Nothing else. Nathan peered at the white box. "I think the code on the label means this is the main Destiny world server. Each of the other buildings will hold a backup server that mirrors this one, and any of them could keep the Destiny world running." He knelt to examine the black box. "This is an emergency power unit. If the normal power supply failed, the emergency power could keep things running for months." Hawk was staring at the white box. "That little box runs Destiny Game world. Millions of players live there, but that box is so small I could tuck it under my arm and walk away. I'm glad I don't need sleep any longer. If I slept, I'd have nightmares about little white boxes. Somewhere out there is a little white box with me inside it." He stood there looking round for a moment longer, and finally led us out of the building. We glanced inside the three other buildings, but they were all exactly the same. When we finished and headed back to the buggy, the Game Tech's droid came to meet us, his face still looking wary. "All force field security codes have now been changed. Future requests for security codes from maintenance teams will need to be authorized by a gold status Game Tech and will be recorded on an audit trail. When a security code is given, it will only be valid for two minutes before being automatically changed." "Thank you," said Hawk. "As the representative of the player community, I appreciate your rapid response to my concerns." The Game Tech face cheered up slightly. "I have another issue that I'd like to discuss with you," added Hawk. "The fact that all four servers supporting a Game world are at the same physical location makes them very vulnerable to a deliberate attack. Is there any way that you can spread out the servers at different locations?" "The current system was instituted after the Rhapsody disaster," said the Game Tech. "At that time, it was a matter of extreme urgency to provide the quadruple interlinked redundancy that could cope with any conceivable sort of future mechanical breakdown. The simplest and fastest method was to have all four servers at the same physical location. In the light of this bombing, we are already drawing up plans to change the system so each world is supported by servers at multiple locations, however it could take several years to make those changes." Hawk frowned. "Why would it take so long?" "Interlinking servers at different locations is more complex," said the Game Tech, "and changing the server configuration of an active Game world could cause the exact problem we are attempting to prevent." "You mean that making the changes could cause more world crashes?" "That is correct," said the Game Tech. "The only safe way to make these changes to a Game world is to evacuate the world, shut it down completely, and then bring it back with the new server configuration." Hawk groaned. "Yes, I can see why going through that process with two thousand Game worlds would take years. I'd now like another look at the bomb site." We climbed on to the buggy, the Game Tech opened a gap in the force field again to let us out, and we trundled our way back to the Avalon server complex. Hawk made a detailed inspection of the four craters, and Nathan and I dutifully followed him round, looking at every item of twisted wreckage. At one point, Hawk dropped to his knees to touch a white fragment. "Whether I sleep or not, I'm definitely going to have nightmares about white boxes," he muttered. "Looking at that, and thinking ..." He stood up and went to where the Game Tech was waiting. "What is the current situation of the Avalon population?" "The first priority was to return them to Game as fast as possible," said the Game Tech. "We were aware that their situation was uncomfortable." "Yes," said Hawk, "it would have been uncomfortable, thrown out of Game without a second of warning, and trapped in a freezer unit coffin. Eleven thousand, two hundred, and ninety seven people died that way." The Game Tech winced. "Not only do all Game Techs feel a deep sense of responsibility for those deaths, but many of our own people were caught in the Avalon world crash and several died." "Yes, I'm sorry." Hawk shook his head. "I'm upset seeing this, but I shouldn't forget it's just as painful for you. You got the population of Avalon back into Game as fast as you could. What happened to them after that?" "Initially, we loaded them into random under-populated worlds. Once the news broke about the Avalon world crash, all Game worlds responded by offering full visitation rights to Avalon refugees, so they were able to use standard Game world transfer requests to go to other worlds of their choice." "So the Avalon refugees are still scattered as guests on other worlds?" asked Hawk. "That is correct." "Will it be possible for you to restore Game world Avalon?" "We have already set up one of our reserve server complexes using the central Avalon world structure rolling backup. Running a full world integrity stress test took less than an hour, so we could reopen Avalon at any time and its residents could request Game world transfer home." The Game Tech hesitated. "Game officials have made no announcement about this, because we are unsure whether the Avalon population will wish us to restore their world or not. We do not wish to cause any offence by making the wrong decision." The Game Tech face on the droid tried to look impassive, but there was some emotion hidden under the surface. It took me a moment to work out that he was scared. It seemed incredible that one of the self-effacing but all-powerful officials who created and ran the Game could be scared, but these were unique circumstances. There were fifty billion deeply distressed players in Game, and they were looking for an outlet for their anger. One wrong word from one of the Game Techs, and all that pent up fury would find a target. Hawk looked at the face on the droid, and seemed to see what I'd seen, because he nodded. "It might be best if I handle this in my role of player representative. I can make a broadcast asking the Avalon survivors to vote on whether their world should return or be left to rest in peace. Would you be able to arrange for the voting to open immediately after my announcement?" "That is correct," said the Game Tech. "If the Avalon residents want their world back," added Hawk, "then it might make a lot of people, including me, feel happier if you could put armed guards on that new server complex." "The new Avalon server complex is already being guarded," said the Game Tech. "Thank you," said Hawk. "I expect the Avalon residents will want some form of memorial to honour their dead, but there's no need to rush a decision on that." "Whatever memorials are asked for by the population of Avalon will naturally be arranged according to their wishes," said the Game Tech. "That's settled then," said Hawk. He went back over to the huddle of Unilaw officers. "You've all been most helpful. I have to go now, but Romulus and Remus have agreed to help analyze the wreckage, and their controlled droids should be with you shortly." Leaving was a slow process, since all the fans wanted to say a word of admiration and farewell, but we finally made it back to our carriage. Hawk slumped into a seat, Nathan and I sat down as well, and the carriage accelerated briefly, only to start slowing again and stop at the next transport stop. "I don't know where to go," said Hawk, "but I had to get out of that place before I cracked. Much longer and I'd have either started crying or shouting at someone." I stared at him, too startled to reply. He was talking like a very vulnerable human being who was overloaded by distress, but surely Hawk couldn't feel like that. Hawk was a glittering, unassailable legend who could cope with anything. "I've just realized the enormity of what I've taken on here," he said. "I've fought against devastating monsters, I've led armies on Civil War, but that was all literally a game. Hunting down this bomber is real. Over eleven thousand people are already dead. If there's another attack, thousands more people may die, and their deaths would be my fault." There was a moment of silence. "I have to leave for a while now," said Hawk. I was disconcerted. "You're leaving?" "I'll need to have all my attention in Game while I make the broadcast about the vote for the future of Avalon." Hawk groaned. "I hate giving speeches. I'll be back in ... I'll be back after however long this takes." Hawk finished speaking, and the droid body abruptly changed back to a blank anonymous gold shape and sat inertly in its seat. Nathan went across and waved his hand in front of its head. There was no response. "He's gone." Nathan stated the obvious. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Six –––––––– Nathan put his finger to his lips, tiptoed to the door, and stepped out of the carriage. Once outside, he turned and beckoned to me. I looked at him in bewilderment, and he beckoned again. I sighed and followed him out of the carriage. I found myself at a transport stop that was identical to the last one. No, not quite identical. The platform here was completely featureless, without either a vending machine or a delivery trolley hub. Nathan put his finger to his lips again, and led the way across the platform and out into the surrounding grassland. There were concrete paths similar to those at the last transport stop, but Nathan ignored them, choosing to wade through the waist-high grass until he reached a large rock and sat on it. I sighed again, and sat next to him on the rock. "Why have we come out here?" "While we were in the body stacks, our buggies were recording every word we said. Once Hawk arrived, that fancy, anti-surveillance droid of his was probably blocking the buggies from recording us, but he was listening to us himself. Out here in the wilds, we can speak freely at last." I wasn't sure I wanted to speak freely. I stared round at the countryside, noting the distant glow of a server complex force field over to our right. "Are you sure this rock doesn't have a spy device in it?" Nathan jumped up and examined the rock. "We could move on a bit further if you think it's suspicious." "Nathan," I said, in a pitying voice, "I was joking about the rock." "Oh." He sat down again. "I can't believe what's happened. One minute life was perfectly normal, and then everything was smashed to pieces." "Yah," I said miserably. "I know it's even worse for you," said Nathan. "You've lost your father." "At least I had a proper parent for eighteen years," I said, "while you've never really had a parent at all. I've still got my mother too. At least, I hope I have." My phone was in my pocket. It was set to silent mode, but I knew I wouldn't have missed it vibrating for an incoming message. I took it out anyway. There was no flashing light. I put the phone back in my pocket. "Still no message from my mother. That's not a good sign." "Perhaps she doesn't know that your father is dead," said Nathan. "He wasn't an Avalon resident, so she wouldn't expect him to have been caught up in the world crash." "I suppose that's possible." "You could try calling her," said Nathan doubtfully. "I know we're expected to wait for parents to call us, not call them ourselves, but this is a very special case." I shook my head. "I daren't risk it. I could have called my father in a situation like this, but not my mother. My relationship with her is ... Well, it's difficult." "You'll just have to wait for your mother to call you then." Nathan glanced back at the transport stop. "I wanted to talk to you about Hawk. You know he's incredibly popular in Game." I gave him a bewildered look. "Of course. That's why the players insisted on Hawk being their representative rather than ..." I let the words trail off as I realized Nathan had said that to lead up to something. "This is about asking Hawk to help us? I'm sure he doesn't understand that the Unilaw questioning has wrecked our futures. If we explain the problem to him, then yah, he might well agree to put something positive on our records and that would solve all our problems." "He might even agree to sponsor us. Just think what that would mean. With Hawk the Unvanquished sponsoring us, then any Game world would gladly accept us as residents. You could have Ganymede again. I'd have my chance to become a Game Tech one day." Nathan's face was glowing with joy as he pictured that, but I wasn't going to let myself build up extravagant hopes. I'd fantasized about the future before, and seen those fantasies brutally shattered. There was also the point that this particular fantasy was based on begging Hawk for help. That didn't seem to bother Nathan, but it did bother me. I shifted uncomfortably on the rock. "We can't ask Hawk to sponsor us. That would make us seem horribly demanding and greedy. We should settle for asking him to put a comment on our records, but we can't do that now. Hawk's under a huge amount of pressure. Over eleven thousand Gamers are dead, he's worried there'll be another bombing and more deaths, and right now he's making a speech to try to reassure fifty billion terrified people." "I agree," said Nathan. "Asking Hawk for favours two seconds after we've visited the bomb site would be utterly selfish and stupid. We have to wait for the right time to discuss this with him." He paused. "I really wanted to talk about Hawk for another reason." "What reason?" Nathan gave me a wary look. "You're a huge fan of Hawk. You've got a picture of his solo fight with the Kraken on your room wall." "Yah. I've always thought that Hawk was the most impressive of the Founder Players." "It's a bit more than thinking he's impressive. When Hawk arrived in the body stacks, you told him that he was your all time hero." I flushed. "I was overwhelmed to meet Hawk, so I gushed a little, but you were just as bad as me. Your eyes were popping out of your head, and you were gasping 'wow'." "That's true," said Nathan, "but there's one big difference between us. However much I admire Hawk, I'm not attracted to men, so I'm not going to start fantasizing about getting into a relationship with him." "I'm not fantasizing about getting into a relationship with Hawk!" I snapped. "Really? Ever since Hawk arrived, I've felt as if I was totally invisible, because you're always watching him." I frowned. That wasn't true, was it? "And it's not just the way you watch him all the time," said Nathan. "It's ... Well, just look at you now!" I was confused. "What do you mean?" "The clothes, the hair, the skin, the pretty flowers. Do I have to spell it out? Back in the body stacks, you wore overalls and your hair was a mess. That was good enough when you were with me, but Hawk showed up and you instantly turned yourself into a glitz girl." I remembered thinking that my new clothes made me look as good as when I'd been part of the glitz crowd. Somehow that made Nathan's comment more rather than less annoying. I launched angrily into my own defence. "I didn't go out and get these clothes, I was given them to wear and I'm wearing them. There were lots of fancy accessories in the shower, so I naturally tried them out. I seem to remember you getting a haircut yourself." I glared at Nathan. "You're only saying these things because you asked to meet me outside work and I turned you down." "I'm not discussing this because I'm jealous," said Nathan. "I thought you were an attractive girl even when you were wearing baggy overalls, and I enjoyed chatting to you about all the different worlds and creatures in Game. I had a weak moment when I couldn't resist asking you out, but it was a relief when you turned me down. I knew it would be a huge mistake for me to get into a relationship with you." I didn't want to get into a relationship with Nathan, but I still felt offended by him saying that. "Why would it be such a huge mistake?" "Because I want to be a Game Tech." "I don't understand the appeal of that," I said. "Once players pay their lifetime subscription, they can give up work and spend all their time having fun exploring the worlds of Game. If you become a Game Tech, you'll never stop working." "If I become a Game Tech, I'll never want to stop working," said Nathan. "You dream of exploring the worlds of Game, Jex, but I dream of creating them. It's not just something I want to do; it's something I have to do. I've got a host of ideas inside my head, visions of landscapes and creatures that are asking me to bring them to life." He paused. "The only problem with becoming a Game Tech is that they aren't allowed to have any ties with players. I know it has to be that way because Game Techs have so much power. The gods of Game mustn't be suspected of having favourites among the players." The passion in his voice had changed to distress now. "If I'm ever recruited, those Game Tech regulations will apply to me. I'll have to walk away from everyone I ever knew, and never see or speak to those people again. I fell out with my twin brother over this. He said that if being a Game Tech was more important to me than being his brother, if I was going to break off contact with him one day because of my ambitions, then he'd rather we break off contact right away. He hasn't spoken to me in years." "I didn't know you had a twin brother," I said. "You've never mentioned him before so I assumed you were a singleton child like me." "Splitting up with my twin was like losing part of my own body. I don't want to go through that again with a girlfriend or wife, so it's best that I stick to casual friendships." Nathan waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm happy to just be your friend, Jex, but I'm worried about what's going on between you and Hawk." "The real Hawk is in Game," I said. "The two of us are just interacting with a rather fancy droid that he's controlling. Do you seriously think I'm planning to seduce a droid?" "Of course not," said Nathan, "but I'm concerned that you're getting emotionally involved with Hawk. There was a moment back at the bomb site when something pretty intense was going on between the two of you. Even the Unilaw officials noticed it." "There wasn't anything 'going on' between us, Nathan. How could you think I was having fantasies about Hawk in the middle of that bomb site? I was upset about my father's death, and Hawk was sympathizing with me." Nathan sighed. "I expressed myself very badly there. What I was trying to say was that there was a lot of heightened emotion between you two. We're in a very unusual situation here. Hawk's upset about the bombing. You're upset about your father. Hawk may only be represented in the real world by a controlled droid, but you two are starting to connect on a very human level." "What's wrong with that?" "There's nothing wrong with it so long as you don't lose track of reality. Hawk's a legendary Founder Player, with hordes of girls throwing themselves at him in Game. He must be very discreet about taking advantage of that, because people don't gossip about him the way they gossip about Caesar. I expect the Game Techs help hush things up. Anyway, I'm worried that you'll start imagining things that can't happen, and end up getting badly hurt." I knew that Hawk would have had vast numbers of girlfriends. I'd figured it out for myself before Nathan helpfully rubbed my nose in it. "When I was younger, I spent a lot of time fantasizing about Hawk's picture on my wall, but I know the difference between fantasy and reality. I'm fully aware that Hawk would never want to get involved with me, and I wouldn't want to get involved with him either. I'd never agree to be in a relationship with anyone unless we were equal partners, and Hawk and I can never be equal." I stood up. "We'd better go back to the carriage now. Hawk may be quite a while, so we should get some sleep." We walked back to the carriage in silence. Once we were inside, I looked up at the ceiling and spoke. "I want to sleep." A bed appeared from the wall. "Me too," said Nathan. Nothing happened. He sighed. "I want to sleep." This time he was rewarded with a bed. He lay down on it, while I stood looking at mine with a frown. "What's the problem?" Nathan asked. "I don't want to crease my new clothes and I had a thought." I went across to the crate that had held our outfits, lifted the lid, and laughed. "What?" Nathan asked again. He rolled off his bed and came over to join me. "We've got several sets of clothes." I checked the next crate and took out a bag. "Night wear too. They must all be for us, because half of them are my size." "Must be." Nathan collected a bag for himself. "I doubt that a droid wants to wear them." I headed off to shower and change into my new luxury night clothes. I was already in bed and half asleep by the time Nathan walked past to get to his own bed. "Good night," said Nathan. I grunted an acknowledgement, and drifted off into a dream where I was patrolling the body stacks. Somehow the endless banks of freezer units changed into the beaches of Ganymede, and I became the Jex of the silver, feathered hair. Hawk was with me, his arm round my shoulders, and we were looking up at the glorious spectacle of Jupiter in the sky above us. "Jex," said Hawk, and his warm lips met mine. "Jex, Nathan," he repeated. My eyes shot open. I was in reality, not in Game. The golden droid had become Hawk again, and I blushed remembering my dream. Nathan was right that I needed to watch myself. I'd had a crush on the legendary Hawk for years. It would be terribly easy and horribly stupid to let my feelings get out of hand. "I'm sorry to wake you up," said Hawk, "but I need to discuss some things." Nathan gave a yawn and sat up. "How did the speech go?" "I thought I was dreadful, but people seemed happy with it. The votes are already coming in, and it looks like the result will be overwhelmingly in favour of bringing Avalon back. People have varying reasons for that decision. Some just want the chance to pack things from their homes, some want to go back for a visit to pay their respects to the dead, while some are determined to stay permanently." Hawk gave his distinctive, one-shouldered shrug. "That's up to them. Avalon will always bear the mark of the bombing, but ..." He broke off his sentence. "Moment. I've just had another set of messages." Hawk was glancing sideways, clearly checking his messages in Game. I grabbed the fresh clothes I'd left ready by my bed, sprinted to the shower for privacy, and dressed at lightning speed. When I got back, Nathan had dressed too, and the beds had vanished. Hawk was still concentrating on something we couldn't see, so Nathan and I called up a table and tapped at the menu to order our breakfasts. We'd almost finished eating by the time Hawk returned his attention to us. "That was the Avalon Survivors Group messaging me about possible memorials. I've replied to them now, and I want to discuss my thoughts about the bombing with you." Nathan and I hastily put down our knives and forks. "You can keep eating while we talk," said Hawk. Nathan picked up his knife and fork again, and started gulping down the last remnants of his breakfast at top speed, but I decided I was already full. "Given the bombing happened so soon after the Leebrook Ashton bill became law, everyone instantly decided that some disgruntled teenagers were to blame," said Hawk. "I thought that too, but now I've got more information about what happened and I'm starting to question my assumption. How could teenagers make four bombs and get hold of the code for the force field protecting a Game server complex?" "That's been bothering me too," I said eagerly. "Even if it was a large group of kids working together, I don't understand where they'd get information on making bombs." Hawk frowned. "In the days before the Game started, there was something called the internet. You could find out a lot of very illegal things using that, including how to make bombs, but first the internet got better policed, and then it was replaced by Game's own information system. That definitely doesn't hold any details of how to make real life bombs." "I suppose a science cadet might be able to work out how to make explosives," I said doubtfully, "and a technical cadet might be able to make those explosives into bombs, but how would kids get hold of the security code for the Avalon server complex force field?" "Maintenance teams make regular checks on each server complex," said Hawk. "Perhaps a cadet working on a maintenance team found out the force field code." Nathan swallowed his last mouthful of breakfast. "That couldn't happen." "I'm sure the code would only be given to the maintenance team leader," said Hawk, "but a cadet might have seen it being entered and memorized it." "That couldn't happen," repeated Nathan. "I wanted to know what a server complex was like, so I tried asking a few maintenance cadets. They couldn't answer my questions because they'd never seen one. They told me that cadets aren't allowed on the teams maintaining server complexes. All the work is done by fully qualified maintenance experts using controlled droids to work from Game." I was thinking something that I wasn't sure I dared to say aloud. Before I could make up my mind whether to risk it or not, Hawk said the words for me. "The simplest answer is that the bombing was organized by a player in Game who'd done maintenance work on the Avalon server complex. A maintenance expert would probably have the skills to make a bomb too, though I'm less sure how they'd get the explosives." "But why would a maintenance worker want to crash a Game world?" asked Nathan. "It doesn't make sense when they're in Game themselves." "There are signs at server complexes that say what Game world it supports," I said. "The bomber could avoid being caught in the world crash." Nathan shook his head. "A maintenance worker would surely know that a world crash would kill thousands of players." "Perhaps that was the plan," said Hawk. "Perhaps the bomber hated someone on Avalon enough to try to kill them." "Why go as far as killing someone?" asked Nathan. "It's easy to avoid anyone you dislike when there are fifty billion players and two thousand Game worlds." "Avoiding people in Game isn't always as easy as you'd think," said Hawk. "I've been trying and failing to avoid Hercules for four centuries. I admit that we're an unusual case though. It isn't easy to avoid another Founder Player with less than a thousand of us living on Celestius." "Avoiding people can be a problem for ordinary players too," I said. "Decades ago when my mother lived on Ganymede, she had a boyfriend for a few months. When she broke up with him, he kept following her round and causing trouble between her and her friends. The Game Techs got involved, issued the statutory three warnings for breaches of Game rules, and then permanently banished the offender from Ganymede. Amazingly, that still wasn't the end of it, because the ex-boyfriend kept finding ways to send my mother abusive messages." "That's terrible," said Nathan. "What did the Game Techs do then?" "They lost patience and sentenced the ex-boyfriend to spend fifty years on Havoc. He wasn't allowed to send messages to people on other worlds, so he couldn't cause any more trouble for my mother, but the whole thing upset her so much that she ended up moving world to help her forget about it." I paused for a moment. "I could believe someone as obsessive as my mother's ex-boyfriend might want to kill an enemy on Avalon, but not that they'd crash the whole world to do it. Thousands of people would die, but with millions of players on Avalon there'd only be a tiny chance of their target being among the dead." "The bomber might have a general grievance against everyone on Avalon," said Hawk, "or might just want to kill random people for no reason. Some people are attracted by the idea of killing another human being." Nathan looked bewildered. "If a player wanted to kill random people, they could just go and fight duels in the Battle Arena on Medieval." "Killing another player in the Battle Arena, watching them die in agony, would be enjoyable," said Hawk. "The knowledge that the death wasn't permanent would sour the pleasure though. The winner knows that the loser will be resurrecting back in their home within minutes. Killing someone in real life, knowing they'd died a permanent death, would be far more satisfying." There was something deeply worrying about the way Hawk said that. Nathan and I gave him matching horrified looks. "I don't think that way," added Hawk hastily, "but I've met people who did. It's one of the reasons I gave up competing in the Battle Arena." "Oh." I tried to imagine what it was like to think those things, feel those things, and failed. I decided I should be glad that I couldn't manage it. "I think I'll take the Battle Arena off my top ten list of things to try in Game." "Unfortunately, even if we're right that a maintenance expert was behind the bombing, that still leaves us with a long list of suspects," said Hawk. "Someone could have made a note of the Avalon force field code years or even centuries ago, and there must be thousands of players who are either current or retired maintenance staff." "The bomber had to plant the bombs," said Nathan. "It should be possible to narrow down the suspect list by checking which of them were using a controlled droid near the time of the bombing." Something was nagging at the back of my mind. Something about a vending machine. "Point," I said urgently. "Yes?" prompted Hawk. "We're now at the transport stop for a different cluster of server complexes," I said. "Every transport stop I've ever seen before today has had a vending machine on the platform, but this one doesn't." Nathan gave me a puzzled look. "That's because only the controlled droids of maintenance staff use this transport stop. Controlled droids aren't going to buy anything from vending machines." I nodded. "Every transport stop I've ever seen before today had a delivery trolley hub as well, but this one doesn't." Nathan looked even more confused now. "There's no need for a delivery trolley hub either. Nobody will want to deliver anything to a server complex. The maintenance teams will bring any replacement parts with them." "Exactly," I said. "The transport stop by the Avalon server complex didn't have a vending machine either, but it did have a delivery trolley hub. Delivery trolleys can only travel a limited distance from their navigation and recharge hubs, but the Avalon server complex was very close to the transport stop." There was a short silence. "You think the bomber installed a delivery trolley hub at the transport stop, and then used a delivery trolley to plant the bombs?" asked Hawk. "That would be a delivery trolley like the one that brought your clothes?" "Yah," I said. "Delivery trolleys can interact with the transport system, call pods and ride in them, place deliveries wherever the customer wants. The bomber could just package up the bombs and instruct a delivery trolley to place one at each of four locations at the Avalon server complex." "But how would the trolley get through the force field?" asked Hawk. I shrugged. "A delivery trolley couldn't enter security codes itself, but you could attach a device to the trolley. Something that would detect when the delivery trolley arrived at the force field, and transmit the code. You might be able to do it with a phone." "That's right," said Nathan. "On our last day at school, someone in my class modified a delivery trolley to enter the classroom door code and take in a stench bomb. We never found out who did it." "If a ten-year-old child could modify a delivery trolley to transmit a code, then a maintenance expert could certainly do it," said Hawk. He paused to think for a moment. "If we're right about this, then we can't assume the bomber was using a controlled droid at the time of the bombing." "I expect the bomber was doing something very conspicuously innocent in Game at the time of the bombing," I said gloomily. "We're going back to the bomb site," Hawk announced, and set the carriage in motion. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Seven –––––––– As the carriage accelerated, I felt the arms of my seat grab me again. I should have been getting used to them pinning me down by now, but actually I hated it even more. Fortunately I only had to endure the feeling of being a helpless prisoner for a couple of minutes before we were back at the previous transport stop and our seats released us. We stepped out of the carriage onto the platform, and Hawk walked across to the red square of the delivery trolley hub. "It looks as if this was fitted very recently. There's still grit around the edges where the hole was cut. Why would the bomber go to so much trouble to use a delivery trolley, when it would be easy to plant the bombs using a controlled droid?" He didn't wait for a reply, just led the way along the path to the gap in the Avalon server complex force field. As we walked through it, Hawk's Unilaw fan club spotted him, and came hurrying over, surprised but delighted by his return. "I've come to see what progress Romulus and Remus have made," said Hawk. The crowd backed away again, letting us move on to where two controlled droids were standing next to one of the four deeper areas of crater. The controlled droids bore the markings of Unilaw on their chests, but I recognized their faces as those of Romulus and Remus. The problem was that their Game images always showed the two of them together, so I wasn't sure which of them was which. I thought that Romulus was the one with the shaggy, red hair, and the one with the shorter, green hair was his husband, Remus. Hawk did a rapid round of hand waving and introductions, which told me I'd got it backwards. Romulus had green hair and Remus had red. "I appreciate you two agreeing to help me with this," said Hawk. "I didn't think until afterwards that seeing a bomb site might bring back unwelcome memories of your accident." Romulus frowned. "It raises a few ghosts ..." "... but not entirely bad ones." Remus waved a hand. "You could argue that explosion saved our lives because ..." "... we'd never have entered Game if we hadn't been injured," said Romulus. "If I hadn't been injured," said Remus. "You'd have coped without your arm. I was the one who was dying. No regrets?" Romulus grinned at him. "I regret every single day of the four centuries that I've had to put up with you." There was the clashing sound of metal on metal, as Remus gave him a mock slap on the head, and then the two of them turned their attention back to Hawk. "We're still finding it a bit of a challenge to use the controlled droids," said Romulus, "but investigating the bombing is quite interesting." "We found enough parts to work out what the bombs were like," said Remus, "and United Law may be able to trace some of the electronic components. The four bombs seem to have been identical except for the fact that one included a timing device that sent a short range signal to trigger all four bombs." "They're fairly standard bombs," said Romulus. "Not that any bombs are standard now, but this type of bomb was one of the most common ones used for a period of several hundred years. Basic but functional." "Do you think the bombs were made by a beginner or an expert?" asked Hawk. Romulus and Remus looked at each other for a moment, exchanging glances that I didn't understand. "Expert," said Romulus grimly. Remus nodded. "The explosive was home cooked. The ingredients are easy to get, or used to be easy to get centuries ago, but it's a delicate process. Get it wrong and ..." The droid waved its arms in a graphic gesture. "The devices too," said Romulus. "These were standard bombs, but there were a couple of modifications that help prevent ... Well, whoever made this bomb had made a few before and knew the inside tricks." "Which means we have bad news for you," said Remus. "I know what you're going to say," said Hawk. "The bombs were made by someone at least a couple of hundred years old. This just confirms what I already suspected for other reasons. One or more teenagers in the real world may have been recruited to help with the bombing, but it was organized by someone in Game." There was an awkward silence until Hawk spoke again. "I need to look at the points where the four bombs were placed. Were you able to work out their exact positions?" They both replied at once. "Within about three inches," said Romulus. "Within about seven centimetres," said Remus. They frowned at each other, and then shrugged in unison. "Either sounds good," said Hawk. "Please show me." Nathan and I stood watching, while Hawk, Romulus, and Remus did a lot of crawling round craters. Finally, Hawk came back over to us. "I need to consult a Game Tech about some details." He turned to look across at the group of Game Tech droids that I'd noticed on our previous visit, made a beckoning gesture, and a droid bearing an image of a Game Tech with silver insignia on her cheeks started walking towards us. Hawk shook his head at her, and pointed his finger at the droid that had a male face with gold insignia shining brightly against dark skin. The terrifyingly high-ranked Game Tech came over to join us. Hawk waved a hand at Nathan and me in turn. "Nathan and Jex are assisting me with my investigation." The Game Tech nodded in acknowledgement. "Romulus and Remus have given me the positions of the four bombs," said Hawk. "If you allow for the small amount of potential error in their measurements, then they form the corners of a perfect square. I can't believe the bombs would have been placed so precisely if a person had planted them, either while physically present or while using a controlled droid." "I would agree," said the Game Tech. "Player Hawk, your comment seems to indicate you are considering the possibility of the bomber being within Game." "I am," said Hawk. "Jex noticed something interesting about the transport stop used to access this cluster of server complexes. Are we right in thinking that the transport stops used to access server complexes wouldn't normally have delivery trolley hubs?" "Moment." It was a few seconds before the Game Tech spoke again. "That is correct." "The transport stop for this server complex does have a delivery trolley hub," said Hawk, "and it appears to have been recently fitted. We suspect that means a delivery trolley was used to plant the bombs. I'll ask United Law to investigate who fitted that delivery trolley hub, and see if they can try to track down what deliveries were made using it. I believe that's more in their area than yours." "That is correct," said the Game Tech. "The next thing is in your area though," said Hawk. "I've got the location of the centre of the perfect square formed by the bomb craters. You must have a physical location of the Avalon server complex stored in Game records. Can you please access it for me?" A minute later, the Game Tech and Hawk recited a string of numbers in unison. "Snap," said Hawk. Nathan and I looked at him in bewilderment. "It's an archaic word, meaning we have a perfect match," said Hawk. "The delivery trolley was sent to the exact location listed in Game records. It then followed its orders to place each bomb a given distance away from that point in the direction of each of the four buildings." "The bomber had obtained the physical location listed in Game records for the Avalon server complex." The Game Tech was obviously unhappy about this news. "Is that location given to visiting maintenance teams?" asked Hawk. "Maintenance teams should only be told the nearest transport stop to their destination, and which paths to follow on arrival," said the Game Tech. "Moment." We waited for over ten minutes before the Game Tech spoke in a grim voice. "The physical locations stored on our records are the precise centre of each server complex. That information is definitely not given to maintenance teams. It is held among highly confidential Game design details, so only Game Techs are able to access it, and all requests for that data are recorded on an audit trail." "So who has requested the physical location of the Avalon server complex?" asked Hawk. "The sole request on record is the one I just made myself," said the Game Tech, in suicidal tones. "There is evidence that earlier requests were made, but the records of them have been expertly removed from the audit trail." My brain refused to accept what he was saying. These things couldn't be true, because if they were ... Hawk put the unthinkable into words. "You're telling me that one of your fellow Game Techs was involved in the Avalon bombing?" "That is correct." The Game Tech wasn't even trying to keep the emotion out of his voice now. "Security on all server complex information is being increased with immediate effect." "Blocking future access to location information won't help us," said Hawk. "The bomber could have already made a list of the physical locations of every server complex, and we can't change geography." He was speaking in a harsh, heavily emphasized voice now. "You have to block the bomber's access to the force field codes, or he'll crash another Game world and many more thousands of people will die." "We are aware of the vital necessity of protecting the force field codes," said the Game Tech. "Special isolation measures are being taken to prevent Game Techs from accessing that information except through authorized channels. To keep authorized access to a minimum, all routine maintenance inspections have been temporarily suspended. Remote diagnostics will be run on all servers daily." "What happens if those diagnostics show problems with a server?" asked Hawk. "Maintenance crews will need to investigate any problems reported, but each crew will be accompanied to the server complex by two silver status Game Techs and four armed Unilaw officers. The actual requests for force field codes will need to be authorized by three gold status Game Techs from different departments." The Game Tech paused. This was a gold status Game Tech, a god of virtual reality, but his rigidly controlled expression had changed to something very human and vulnerable. "Hawk, I have to appeal to you as an old friend. Please think very hard about the consequences of announcing this development to the Game population. They're already frightened after the bombing. If you tell them that a Game Tech was involved, you'll trigger a mass panic." "I'm well aware of that," said Hawk grimly. "I'm close to panic myself, imagining all the horrors that a rogue Game Tech could inflict on people in Game. Changing the ground under players' feet to lava. Sending boiling rain down on them. Perhaps even deleting player consciousnesses from Game, so there's nothing but empty shells of bodies left in freezer units." "There would be billions of players calling for defrost from Game. The system can only handle a limited number of defrosts at one time, and even if it could cope with the volume there'd be no way to house or feed the extra people arriving in the real world." "Calm down, Kwame," said Hawk. "I'm here representing the players' best interests, and it's definitely not in their best interests for me to terrify them by telling them that a Game Tech was involved in the Avalon bombing. I'm as eager to keep this news secret as you are." The Game Tech turned to look at me, and then at Nathan. "Jex and Nathan, your discretion on this matter is essential." My brain was numb with shock. I'd been stunned by the idea that a Game Tech was involved in the Avalon bombing, but it was almost as hard to cope with watching Hawk have this conversation with Kwame. Game Techs were remote, anonymous figures. They never had personal conversations with players. The whole foundations of my universe were falling apart, but I managed to make myself nod my head. I heard a strangled squeak from Nathan. "Our discovery has to be shared with the core team that's leading the Unilaw bombing investigation," said Hawk, "but I hope we can depend on them to keep it a closely guarded secret. Will you be able to stop the news spreading through the ranks of Game Techs, Kwame? I'd like to leave the bomber in blissful ignorance of our suspicions." "Unfortunately," said Kwame, "the new security measures will make it painfully clear to all Game Techs that we suspect one of our own people was involved in the bombing. I believe our best option would be to inform all Game Techs at once, so they can watch for colleagues acting suspiciously." Hawk sighed. "Very well. All Game Techs will be informed. The core Unilaw investigation team will be informed. The general player population will be left believing that teenagers in the real world carried out the bombing." "The Game Techs will focus their efforts on making all the security changes necessary to protect the Game worlds and players," said Kwame. "We'll need to protect you in particular, Hawk. As the players' representative, and the most prominent member of the hunt for the bomber, you're a potential target. I'll be watching over your safety myself." He paused. "With a small team to verify everything I do. I have to be considered a suspect along with everyone else." "Thank you," said Hawk. "The last four hundred years have been fun and I've still got a few impossible monsters to kill. I've put in a lot of thought on how to defeat the Behemoth, and I'd hate to be deleted from existence before I get the chance to try out my latest tactics." "I'll do my best to make sure that doesn't happen." "I have every faith in you." Hawk's smile lasted only a moment before his expression lapsed into one of anxiety again. "I'm tempted to ask you to put armed guards at every server complex." "In the current situation, we could not refuse that request," said Kwame, "but I doubt that Unilaw could supply the many thousands of armed guards that would be needed." "There are plenty of players with experience of using Game weapons on worlds like Civil War," said Hawk. "I could ask for volunteers to use controlled droids to ..." He abruptly broke off his sentence and shook his head. "No, we can't possibly risk it. Guards won't be very effective unless they're inside the server complex force fields, and having a group of droids brandishing weapons inside every force field could do far more harm than good. A rogue Game Tech could threaten the players controlling those droids, even torture them, forcing them to damage the servers themselves." Kwame frowned. "We can assign a team of Game Techs to protect the guards on the new Avalon server complex, but it's impossible to do that for all two thousand worlds in Game. We wouldn't have the spare resources for it at any time, but especially not now. Our people are already going to be working extreme hours to improve Game security and find the identity of the bomber." "We'd better forget the guard idea then. One final question. Is there any way to change things so people don't defrost if a world crashes? Couldn't you link world servers together, so if one world crashes the others can provide some sort of lifeline for players?" Kwame assumed the impersonal manner of a Game Tech again "Directly linking worlds would be possible but extremely unwise. There would be a danger of the crashing world bringing down the others that were linked to it." There was a grim silence after that. I turned to stare round at the bomb site. The Game Techs were the all-powerful ones who created the worlds of Game, but one of them had turned their powers from creation to destruction. The bombing here had caused the deaths of over eleven thousand people, but we had to worry about other types of attack as well now. A rogue Game Tech could be just as dangerous within Game as outside it. If Hawk's nightmare visions became reality, and a reign of terror started inside Game, then there would be no way for the player population to escape. It was impossible for fifty billion frozen players to return to the real world. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Eight –––––––– We retreated to our carriage again, and moved on for fifteen minutes before stopping. When I followed Hawk out on to the platform of the new transport stop, I saw we were in the middle of an area of farmland. Hawk didn't say anything, just stood on the platform, apparently watching an autoplough working in a field. Nathan and I exchanged baffled glances, and waited in silence. It was several minutes before Hawk spoke. "Back when the players chose me to be their representative, everyone believed some teenagers were responsible for the bombing. My knowledge of the real world and teenage life was four centuries out of date, so I recruited you two to travel with me as my assistants. Now we know a Game Tech was involved in the bombing, I have to rethink my plans." That sounded as if Hawk had decided he didn't need Nathan and me tagging along on the investigation any longer, and was going to send us back to the body stacks. Bitter disappointment hit me. I knew I should be mentally preparing a speech that would persuade Hawk to help me and Nathan by putting a good comment on our Game records, but I couldn't think of anything except how much I wanted to stay part of the hunt for the bomber. "I wondered why the bomber went to all the trouble of fitting a delivery trolley hub instead of just using a controlled droid to plant the bombs," continued Hawk. "The answer is that the bomber was a Game Tech and would only have access to official Game droids. If one of those was seen near the Avalon server complex, it could give away the fact that a Game Tech was involved in the bombing, so the bomber decided to use a delivery trolley instead." Nathan nodded eagerly. "No one pays any attention to ordinary controlled droids, you see them all the time, but every kid notices Unilaw or Game droids." "Given how carefully Game Techs are selected for their work," said Hawk, "it's hard to believe that more than one of them was involved in the bombing, but we should remember that it's a possibility. There could obviously be any number of players or teenagers involved as well." I forced myself to overcome my disappointment and speak. "If you're right about the reason for using a delivery trolley to plant the bombs, then there can't be any players involved in this. A player could just sign up for a real world job to get access to an ordinary controlled droid with no distinctive markings." "Point," acknowledged Hawk. "If there weren't any players involved, that means the Game Tech must be the one who organized the bombing. A Game Tech might conceivably be influenced by a player that was an old friend or lover, but I can't imagine how a random teenager could talk a Game Tech into helping them with a bombing." "I don't know how a teenager in the real world could even get in contact with a Game Tech," said Nathan. "Romulus and Remus think the bombs were made by someone at least a couple of centuries old," said Hawk, "so that means our rogue Game Tech must be the one who made them. I can't see there'd be any problem using a controlled droid to make a bomb." I remembered the Unilaw droid that had sat opposite me in a pod, juggling a gun from one hand to the other. "I can see big advantages in using a controlled droid to make a bomb rather than doing it in person. You don't have to worry so much about making mistakes when you can only blow up a droid rather than yourself." "Point," said Hawk. "So the bombing was organized by our rogue Game Tech. The fact it was a real world attack was probably a deliberate attempt at misdirection. Everyone was supposed to be busily chasing teenagers in the real world, while the Game Tech quietly controlled events from within Game. We're looking for a Game Tech who has been in Game for at least two or three hundred years and has some knowledge of bombs." I wasn't sure what was happening now. If Hawk was still discussing details about the bomber with Nathan and me, did that mean he wasn't sending us back to the body stacks after all? "I think the bomber has to be a high-ranked Game Tech," said Nathan. "Kwame was upset when he told us that only Game Techs could request the location information for a server complex, but then he talked about the records being expertly deleted from the audit trail. The tone of his voice suggested that was even more worrying, as if someone would need high authority to make changes to an audit trail." "You're right," said Hawk. "Kwame said that future requests for force field codes will need to be authorized by three gold status Game Techs from different departments. That means the Game Techs daren't even trust their highest ranked people any longer." "A Game Tech being involved in the bombing is terrible news for them," said Nathan. "It's terrible news for everyone," said Hawk. "Kwame will be making a general announcement to the other Game Techs that one of their own people was involved in the attack. If we're lucky, the bomber will react by doing as little as possible to try to avoid being caught. If we're unlucky, there'll be another attack." By now I was convinced that Hawk wasn't sending Nathan and me away. "You think there could be another bombing despite all the new security precautions?" "In theory, the server complexes should be safe behind their force fields now," said Hawk. "It seems unlikely that three unconnected gold status Game Techs would have suddenly been filled with a desire to murder players. My big worry is that the bomber will move on to attack other Game related targets." My stomach gave a sudden lurch. "Targets like the body stacks. There are fifty different sites around the world, each holding a billion freezer units, and the kids who work there couldn't do anything to stop a bomber." Hawk winced. "I was thinking of the bomber targeting places that were important to the running of Game, but you're right. The sheer scale of the body stacks makes them impossible to defend, and a bombing there would have a huge impact on the players. It's not that destroying bodies in freezer units would harm anyone in Game, their minds would still be safe in the system, but it would hit people hard on a deep emotional level. At least, it would hit me hard. I haven't used my physical body in four centuries, I'm not even sure where it's stored now, but I'd hate to think of something bad happening to it." He paused to rub his forehead, the movement heightening the illusion that he was here with us in person rather than just controlling a droid. "There could be another real world bombing, but there's also the possibility that the next attack happens in Game. The bomber doesn't need to hide the fact they're a Game Tech any longer. They could set the Behemoth loose to rampage through a crowd of partying Gamers, create a volcano in the middle of a music festival, or send a tidal wave ripping across beaches. The players' deaths wouldn't be permanent, but their fear would last for centuries." I thought what an experience like that would do to my mother. "We have to catch the bomber before any of these things happen." Hawk nodded. "I won't be able to chase down clues to the bomber's identity within Game, because Game Techs are always hidden behind the scenes of worlds. The only time players see them is when they call for help with something that isn't covered by the automated Game commands, and then it's usually a bronze status Game Tech that appears." I frowned "Given the situation, the Game Techs should forget the rules and allow you into their areas." "I don't think that's possible unless they recruit Hawk as a Game Tech," said Nathan. "The special Game Tech areas don't connect with player areas at all. It's like Game Techs live in a whole different dimension of Game." "I've absolutely no desire to be recruited as a Game Tech," said Hawk hastily, "and I'm sure that any clues in Game Tech areas would involve incomprehensible technical things. It makes far more sense for me to follow the trail in the real world." He turned to Nathan. "I'll be focusing my efforts in the real world, but the Game investigation team will be sending me reports on their progress. I'll need you to go through those for me and explain any important points." Nathan looked doubtful. "If you want someone to explain technical details, you should ask a Game Tech for help. I don't know very much, and most of the things that I think I know are self-taught and probably totally wrong." "I realize that you've limited knowledge," said Hawk. "I'll take you to the United Law facility that's leading their investigation into the bombing. They'll give you comfortable living quarters and all the facilities you need to do some high-speed learning about the technical side of Game. I'll arrange for you to have access to all the Game training texts, and put you in contact with several Game Techs who'll answer your questions." "Training texts!" Nathan's eyes lit up eagerly for a second, but then he shook his head. "Even if I had all those things, a real Game Tech could do far more to help you." "I can't use a Game Tech for this, Nathan, because I don't know which of them I can trust." Hawk waved his hands in a despairing gesture. "Our bomber is probably a silver or gold status Game Tech. That means they're in a position of power. They may have already manipulated their way onto the Game investigation team. Even if they haven't managed to join it themselves, they could still offer bribes of promotion and choice assignments to other Game Techs who are on the team." He paused. "You have to be very careful, Nathan. Always be aware that one of your Game Tech contacts may be helping the bomber, or even be the bomber. When you ask them questions, make sure you ask about lots of different things, so you don't give away clues about the direction our investigation is going. Always ask at least two of your Game Tech contacts the same question. If the answers differ, then tell me at once. After seeing your room, I know you've got incredible attention to detail, and will spot any inconsistencies." Nathan hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Why aren't you asking your friend, Kwame, to do this?" Hawk groaned. "Kwame grew up centuries ago in a country that insisted on its citizens doing two years of military service. He would never talk to me about what he did during those two years, I got the impression he wanted to forget all about it, but it's quite possible that he picked up some knowledge of bombs. Kwame then entered Game nearly three and a half centuries ago, and we were friends for a couple of decades before he was recruited as a Game Tech. Now he's gold status with a high position on the Game investigation team. Logically speaking, that puts him very high on my suspect list." I broke in to the conversation. "But Kwame is the one watching your ... consciousness data in Game. Surely that means he's in an ideal position to delete it." "I know," said Hawk. "The me that thinks and feels in Game is nothing but streams of data in a white box in a server complex. Kwame could delete that data from Game, and there'd be nothing left of me but a frozen body with no one at home." I pictured that and winced. "That idea terrifies me," said Hawk. "One minute I'm here, the next I'm gone forever. No way to fight back. No chance at all. Perhaps my body could be defrosted, re-educated, and become a person again, but that person wouldn't be me." He had a strange smile on his face now. "My logic tells me that Kwame should be number one on my suspect list, but my emotions say he's an old friend that I can trust absolutely. I'm betting my life that my emotions are right. Kwame used to defend me in Game battles where death was merely very painful and inconvenient. Now he's defending me from a very permanent death. If I'm wrong about Kwame, and he attacks me, then at least he'll give himself away by doing it." He pulled a face of self-mockery as he spoke in exaggerated heroic tones. "I will not have been deleted in vain." "You should consider leaving Game," I said. A few days ago, I would have had a fit at the thought of saying that to a Founder Player. I was pretty worried about saying it even now. Hawk looked startled. "You know, that option hadn't even occurred to me. I entered the Game over four hundred years ago, and I've never left it for a single day. You're right that I'd be safer back in the real world, but there's a lot more at stake here than just my safety. I can't reassure the other players if I'm not in Game. I can't afford to spend time sleeping and eating. The enemy is way ahead of us already. I need to run faster to catch him, not weigh myself down with chains." His manner suddenly changed from pensive to decisive. "Nathan, I've explained what I want you to do. Jex, I want you to go with Nathan to the United Law facility. I'll call you whenever I need to discuss problems." "What?" I shook my head urgently. "There's no point in me going to a United Law facility with Nathan. I'll be able to help you with problems much better if I'm with you." "If you go to the United Law facility with Nathan, you'll be able to assist him with his research," said Hawk. I shook my head again. "Asking me to assist Nathan with research into the technical workings of Game is like ... like asking a bumble bear to tap dance." Hawk didn't even smile at my joke. "Perhaps that's true, but you'll be safe at the United Law facility." "Safe?" I repeated in confusion. "Why do I need to be kept safe? You're the one that's important, not me." "I'm in danger, Jex. Recruiting you and Nathan to help me has put you both in danger too. You could get hurt just because you're near me, or because the bomber thinks that harming you will discourage me from chasing him. There used to be a phrase for this. I think it was 'collateral damage'." "You mean the bomber might attack us just to deter you from ..." I broke off and started a new sentence. "I'm not going to sit around uselessly at a United Law facility. You recruited Nathan and me because your knowledge was out of date and you needed us to explain how things work these days. You still need me to do that." Hawk frowned. "I can't deny it would be very helpful having you with me. I'd never have noticed that delivery trolley hub if you hadn't pointed it out. I don't want to drag you into danger though. You have to remember that the bomber has already killed over eleven thousand people and won't hesitate to kill again." "And you have to remember that one of the people the bomber killed was my father," I said fiercely. Hawk's droid hands lifted in a very human gesture of surrender. "I can't argue with that. If you're sure you want to take the risk, then you can stay with me on the hunt." I took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm very sure." | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Nine –––––––– The carriage was whizzing through a tunnel, heading for the United Law facility. Hawk was busy making a broadcast to the players in Game, so his golden droid sat motionless in one of the seats. Nathan was frantically working on a small, handheld screen. "This is amazing stuff," he muttered. "I really need about six screens at once, as well as a proper Game Design console." I glanced at the meaningless complexity displayed on his screen. "Is that a Game training text?" He nodded, his eager eyes still fixed on the gobbledygook. "I just wish I could run the holo demonstrations." "Hawk says you'll have everything you need at the United Law facility." "Yah." Nathan tore his attention away from the training text, and looked directly at me for the first time in thirty minutes. "I hope you'll be all right alone with Hawk." I glared at him. "Please don't give me a repeat lecture about not falling for Hawk. It annoyed me last time. If you try it again, I could get really angry." "I thought you were really angry last time," said Nathan. "I can get far angrier than that. You'd better accept that I make my own decisions, stop worrying about my love life, and concentrate on your own." Nathan sighed. "I won't have a love life until I get recruited as a Game Tech. Perhaps it's just as well. Everyone says sex in Game is much better than in real life." "I've never thought of Game Techs having love lives," I said thoughtfully. "They aren't allowed to have relationships with players, but I suppose there's no problem with them having relationships with each other." "That is correct." Nathan mimicked the formal tones of a Game Tech. "We're nearly there now," said Hawk's voice. "Gah." I turned to look at him. The golden droid had returned to being Hawk again, but I didn't know exactly when or how much of the conversation he'd heard. I exchanged agonized looks with Nathan, and the arms of my seat enfolded me lovingly as the carriage started to decelerate. "I've got the latest information update from Romulus and Remus," said Hawk. "Sadly all the components in the bombs came from basic devices sold by every vending machine. None of them had any identifying marks to give clues to where they were sold or who bought them." "The bomber is much too clever to leave clues in the bombs," I said bitterly. The carriage stopped, the doors opened, and I saw this was an indoor transport stop. The blue and grey United Law sign on the wall opposite us was the same as the one at the facility where I'd been questioned, but about twice the size. Hawk gave a barely perceptible sigh as he saw a crowd of controlled droids waiting by the sign. Obviously the Unilaw investigation team included some big Hawk fans. As I stepped out of the carriage, I got a wider view of the platform, and saw there were four more controlled droids standing apart from the others. They were carrying bulky guns that were clearly designed to have massive firepower. I had a sick moment as I remembered the Unilaw droid that had taken me in for questioning and held me at gun point. Hawk responded modestly to several compliments, and hurried on to talk about the hunt for the bomber. "Is there any news yet about who fitted the delivery trolley hub?" One of the controlled droids stepped forward to answer the question. Nathan would probably have been able to work out the rank of the Unilaw official controlling it from the markings on the droid, but I couldn't. "The hub was fitted a month ago in response to a standard requisition from Game. We asked the Game investigation team to trace the requisition's origin, but they report that all records relating to the request have been deleted." Nathan groaned. "Of course they've been deleted. If the bomber can delete records from an audit trail, then it would be easy to delete the records of a simple administration request." "I thought it would be hard for the bomber to get a delivery hub fitted," said Hawk, "but it probably took less than five minutes for our rogue Game Tech to send a standard requisition and delete a few records. Have you made any progress on finding the delivery trolley that used the hub?" "The delivery system has no record of any delivery to the Avalon server complex," said the Unilaw droid, "but the parcels could have been handed directly to a delivery trolley. We're currently checking the memory information on all delivery trolleys in the area." I opened my mouth to ask how big an area they were checking, but closed it again. There was no point in me asking for details. I had a low opinion of Unilaw, and felt they were more likely to find a flying pig than the right delivery trolley. Hawk didn't demand any more details either, just nodded and asked to be shown to Nathan's accommodation. After a brief walk through corridors, where we passed two more sets of armed guards, the three of us were alone again, inspecting an impressive luxury apartment. The living area had lavish, colour co-ordinated furnishings, but one wall was covered in a mosaic of screens, and there was a complex array of controls beneath them. "This is wonderful." Nathan hurried up to the wall and began tapping on the controls. Game gobbledygook appeared on one of the other walls, and the contour lines of a hologram monster started forming in midair next to where I was standing. I was still tense after seeing the armed guards, and reacted by sidestepping rapidly, grabbing a nearby vase to use as a makeshift weapon, and turning defensively to face the monster. The contours filled in with colour and detail, and I saw it was a werewolf, with worryingly realistic blood dribbling from its jaws. Hawk laughed at me. "Don't be scared, Jex. Hawk the Unvanquished will slay the beast if it dares to attack you." I could feel myself blushing. "I was just admiring the ornaments," I said, in my most dignified voice, and faked studying the vase before putting it down again. A worldscape appeared beside Hawk, and he studied the desert land. "That's Anubis, but I can't see the pyramids." Nathan tapped a button, and a cluster of pyramids appeared. "I see you're getting the hang of this well," said Hawk. I stuck my head into the bedroom and raised my eyebrows at the sight of the palatial bed. "Glitz!" "That's the first totally unfamiliar word I've heard either of you use," said Hawk. "What does it mean?" "Glitz means that someone or something in the real world is almost as fancy as in Game," I said. "The word's been around a long time, but no one would be likely to say it within Game." Nathan stopped messing around with worlds, took a look at the bedroom too, and gave one of his appreciative whistles. "Very nice." He wandered on into the shower, reappearing after a moment with a puzzled expression. "Why did my shower run a medical scan on me?" "I've no idea," said Hawk. "Are you feeling ill?" I burst out laughing, and they both turned to look at me. "Would you care to explain the joke?" asked Hawk, with a raised eyebrow. "The only Unilaw staff physically present in the real world will be kids working as cadets, and women taking the option of having babies to reduce their career term by several years. The cadets all have rooms in separate accommodation blocks, so this apartment will be specially designed to care for pregnant women." Hawk joined me in laughing, while Nathan gave us a wounded look. I grinned at him. "It's a really luxurious apartment, Nathan, so I don't think you've got too much to complain about." "Jex and I had better be going," said Hawk. "Nathan, you should be physically safe here, but the bomber may have found a way to eavesdrop on communications. Remember to set your controls to use a secure, encrypted link whenever you call anyone, especially me. Which reminds me that I asked for ..." He glanced round, went across to a shelf, picked up a fancy looking phone, and handed it to me. "Jex, if you make any calls to Nathan or anyone else connected with the investigation, remember to use this so your conversation is encrypted." I tucked the phone into a pocket, Hawk and I went back to the transport stop, and headed off in our carriage again. I was relieved to have escaped from the Unilaw facility with its lurking armed guards, but feeling subdued after saying goodbye to Nathan. I was alone with Hawk now. A scruffy girl from the body stacks was keeping company with a Game legend. The situation hadn't seemed so strange when I was with Nathan. The two of us had managed to chat a bit, and even when we daren't say anything aloud we could still exchange expressive glances, but now ... "You're very quiet, Jex," said Hawk. "I'm a bit depressed," I said. "There's no way to trace who bought the components used in the bombs. The requisition for the delivery trolley hub came from within Game, and our rogue Game Tech has deleted any clues to who sent it. We don't seem to have any way to make progress now." "We may still learn something when Unilaw find the delivery trolley that carried the bombs," said Hawk. "The trolley must have a record of who asked for the delivery and how they paid for it." "I don't believe Unilaw will ever find that delivery trolley." Hawk gave me a startled look. "Judging from the bitter tone of your voice, you don't like United Law very much." "I don't like them at all at the moment. Being at that United Law facility, seeing all those armed guards, brought back horrible memories of being dragged out of bed at gun point, locked in a cell, and interrogated." "Dragged out of bed at gun point?" Hawk repeated my words in a shocked voice. "There was no need for them to treat you that way." "That's just typical of the way Unilaw officials treat kids." I tried to put my feelings about Unilaw aside and focus on the facts. "The problem with looking for the delivery trolley is that those things roam round all day, delivering orders and taking back things that the customers didn't like or turned out to be the wrong size. At some point during the night, each delivery trolley will call in at its local depot for a few minutes, get checked for damage, and dump the day's delivery information onto the main delivery system." I paused. "The Unilaw investigation team didn't want to tell you the bad news, but the truth is the delivery trolley that delivered the bombs can't be in active service any longer. If it was, then its information would have been added to the main delivery system by now." "It isn't in active service any longer," repeated Hawk. "You mean the bomber has somehow disposed of it?" "Yah," I said. "The bomber wouldn't want that delivery trolley reporting back about a Game droid giving it parcels to deliver to the Avalon server complex. There'd also be the problem of the payment potentially giving clues to the bomber's identity. It would be easy to destroy the trolley after it had done the delivery. The bomber just had to order the trolley to return to collect more parcels, and the poor thing would dutifully come back to be murdered." I realized that Hawk was giving me an odd look. "Sorry, I know perfectly well that delivery trolleys aren't alive or intelligent, but there's something about the way the lights flash when they're processing instructions that makes it look like they're thinking. I feel sorry for the poor things. Kids are always hijacking them to do things like move furniture, or playing tricks like blocking the depot corridor late at night so there's a whole herd of confused delivery trolleys stuck outside." "I understand what you mean about the delivery trolleys seeming intelligent," said Hawk. "I thought the same thing when I watched the one delivering crates to our carriage. I'm just surprised that you know so many details about them." I blushed. "I found out most of those details the hard way. I once borrowed a delivery trolley and attached a lot of painted cardboard to make it look like a dragon. Unfortunately, it decided to head back to its depot in the middle of the night. I had to go chasing after it and drag it back, the trolley kept trying to break free and crashing into walls, and I woke up half the kids in my accommodation block. They kept teasing me about it for years afterwards." Hawk blinked. "I see," he said, in a confused voice. "Why did ... No, never mind that. Getting back to the bombing, wouldn't it have been simpler for the bomber to just blow up the trolley along with the server complex?" "That would have left a lot of pieces of trolley at the bomb site. Those would have serial numbers that showed the home depot of the delivery trolley, and there'd have been a risk of the memory unit surviving the blast as well." Hawk nodded. "So Unilaw need to look for the remains of a delivery trolley." "Yah, but it's a pretty hopeless search," I said. "You can see broken delivery trolleys everywhere you go. If I was the bomber, I wouldn't have taken a glaringly conspicuous Game droid anywhere near the Avalon server complex. I'd have sent the bombs with a delivery trolley from a hundred miles away, waited for the trolley to come back, smashed it, and dumped the remains in the nearest river." "A hundred miles away?" Hawk's voice rose in disbelief. "How long a distance can these delivery trolleys travel?" "They can't go far under their own power without recharging, but they can interact with the transport system and call a pod to travel long distances." Hawk frowned in thought. "The bomber has been incredibly careful not to leave clues. I can't believe they'd risk letting a delivery trolley make a record of them. What if something stopped the delivery trolley from returning to be destroyed? A teenager playing a joke or accidental damage." "Someone had to give the parcels to the delivery trolley and arrange payment." "Someone had to attach a phone or something to the delivery trolley to transmit the force field code too," said Hawk. "Point." I yawned. "I'd forgotten about that. I'm a bit tired." Hawk shook his head. "I'm useless at remembering you need to eat and sleep. How long is it since you slept properly?" I tried to work it out, but things were a blur. "I've lost track of time." "I'll let you get to sleep soon, I promise," said Hawk. "I just need to finish this conversation first. What if the bomber recruited a teenager to deal with the delivery trolley? The bomber could get the teenager to meet their controlled Game droid a long way from the bomb site, and give them the bombs and a device they could fit to the delivery trolley to transmit the force field code. Wouldn't that be a safer way of doing things?" "Yah. That would avoid the danger of the delivery payment giving clues to the bomber's identity, and nobody would think it odd to see a kid messing about with a delivery trolley, or even dragging a broken one away to be dumped. How would the bomber persuade a kid to help them though?" "Bribery," said Hawk. "The bomber could offer to pay their lifetime Game subscription. A Game Tech wouldn't need to give them actual credits, just flag their account as paid." "Point." I thought about it for a moment before shaking my head. "The kid wouldn't take the risk." "The bomber could make up a story about playing a joke on friends. There haven't been any bombings in centuries, so a teenager would have no reason to suspect the packages contained bombs." "A kid wouldn't think of bombs, but they'd guess the packages contained something highly illegal. There'd be no reason to ask them to deal with the trolley otherwise, because a prankster could just arrange the delivery themselves. Any respectable kid would stop and think about the risk they'd be taking. Just being brought in for questioning by Unilaw would destroy their chances of getting into a decent Game world, so most of them would turn down the bomber's offer, and the bomber couldn't approach dozens of kids in the hope of finding one who'd agree." Hawk frowned. "What do you mean? Someone couldn't get into trouble just for being questioned about a crime. You're innocent until proven guilty." I was tired, I was upset about saying goodbye to Nathan, and seeing those armed droids at the United Law facility had brought back vivid memories of the interrogation that had wrecked my life. The whole lot was piling on top of me, especially the fact that Hawk had been one of those interrogating me, so his naive words hit me on a bitterly sensitive area. "Maybe that was true four hundred years ago, Hawk, but things don't work like that today. A kid isn't in Game yet, and if you aren't in Game then you don't really exist. Nobody cares about things like fairness and justice for people who don't exist." "But surely ..." I drowned him out with my angry torrent of words. "A year ago, I was a medical cadet, one of the best in my class, but then I helped our instructor treat a pregnant woman. The instructor made a mistake with the medication, she was about to give the woman an overdose that could harm her babies, so I had to intervene and stop her. The instructor didn't want that incident going on record, so she immediately changed my class grades to be failure level, and dropped me from the medical training programme. There was nothing to stop her doing that, no checks on what she did at all, because no one cared about justice for kids who weren't in Game." I paused to grab a breath before ranting on. "A year ago, I had my future destroyed because I saved a patient from getting a dangerous overdose. Exactly the same thing just happened to thousands of kids in the body stacks. None of us had done anything except try to save the lives of defrosted players, but Unilaw pulled us all in and interrogated us about the bombing. The fact we were questioned about the Avalon bombing is permanently on our records now. Do you think there's a single Game world that will accept any of us as residents when they see that?" My fury suddenly burned out into depression. "My dreams of life in Game are wrecked. Nathan's dreams of becoming a Game Tech are wrecked. All the kids Unilaw questioned have had their futures wrecked as well. We're all Game rejects." I finally realized I'd been yelling at a Founder Player. "I'm sorry," I said hastily. "I know what happened wasn't your fault, it's just the way the world is now." "Moment." Hawk snapped the word at me with a harsh note in his voice. There was silence for several minutes. I'd completely lost my head and mouthed off at a Founder Player. I'd destroyed my only chance of ever entering Game, and I'd probably ruined things for Nathan too. I bit my lip. If we were lucky, Hawk would just send us back to the body stacks. If we were unlucky, he'd ... "You were right about the questioning," said Hawk at last. "It was mentioned on both your and Nathan's records, but it isn't any longer. I'm listed as a sponsor for both of you now, and if you ever have a problem getting entry to any Game world, you can tell the Admission Committee to talk to me about it." I stared at him blankly for a second. Hawk hadn't just sponsored us; he'd got our records cleared! I hadn't known that was possible. My head struggled to adjust to my new reality, not quite daring to believe it was true. If it was ... I had a future again. I'd screeched my anger at Hawk, but he'd still given me back my dreams. The Game Jex would live after all, and walk the beaches of Ganymede with the magnificence of Jupiter overhead. "Thank you." My voice shook as I said the two hopelessly inadequate words. I remembered myself at fourteen years old, gazing in blind adoration at the images of Hawk on my room wall. I'd thought him the most perfect, the most flawless, the most wonderful hero in Game. I'd been right. No, I'd been wrong, because the real life Hawk was even better than the one I'd imagined. "I apologize for sitting in on your questioning," said Hawk. "I thought I might learn something useful from it, and I did, but I'd no idea that simply being questioned could harm the future of anyone. Now I understand why most of the teenagers were hysterical with fear." He paused. "I've asked the Game Techs to remove Unilaw's questioning from the other teenagers' Game records too. It's hugely unjust for innocent people to be excluded from Game worlds because of the bombing." Hawk was using a controlled droid rather than being physically present himself, but he still visibly simmered with anger, while I was having a full blown attack of hero worship. I restrained my urge to do a lot of inappropriate things, including a few that probably weren't physically possible with a droid, and there was a pause while we both got our emotions under control. Eventually Hawk spoke again. "I assume your father tried to help when you were dropped from the training programme, but he didn't have any influence in the medical area." "I never told him what really happened." Hawk looked puzzled. "Why not?" I stared down at my hands. "Because the instructor said she'd throw my friends off the course as well if I caused any trouble. I couldn't put their careers at risk to save my own." Hawk was silent for a full minute before speaking in an oddly careful voice. "Well, I don't think your instructor should get away with what she did. I'll get an expert to make a discreet check of the course records, looking for evidence that the instructor changed your grades." I didn't reply because I was finding it difficult to speak. "I can try to arrange for you to continue your medical training as well," added Hawk. "You could join a class in America, so there'd be no possible problem with your old instructor." I moistened my lips and managed to speak this time. "No, thank you. It would be difficult for me to go back when I've missed a whole year of training, and ... The truth is that the whole idea of becoming a doctor has been soured for me by what happened last year, but I appreciate you offering to help me." "I understand your decision." There was yet another long silence. "Anyway," I said at last, "you can see why the bomber wouldn't be able to bribe a respectable kid with a lifetime subscription. Trying to bribe a Game reject wouldn't work either, because someone who can't enter Game would have nothing to gain by having their lifetime subscription paid." I paused. "Moment!" I thought frantically while Hawk waited. "You just cleared the questioning from my Game record," I said. "Yes." "How did you do that?" "I threw my weight around as leader of the players' investigation, and got the Game Techs to access your Game record and remove ..." Hawk broke off his sentence. "That's how a Game Tech bribes a kid to do something obviously criminal," I said. "They find a Game reject. Someone with such a serious black mark on their Game record that they'll never be able to enter Game. They offer to clear it. A kid would do anything, anything at all for that." "Jex, you're brilliant!" said Hawk. "How do we find a black mark on a teenager's Game record after it's been cleared? I'm sure our rogue Game Tech will have wiped any audit trails to cover his tracks." "Everyone is allocated a Game identity number at birth," I said. "Information about your life, first in the real world and later in Game, goes on the Game record for that identity number." Hawk nodded. "But Unilaw must keep its own records on people they question, arrest or charge with crimes," I continued. "A Game Tech shouldn't be able to touch Unilaw records. Compare Game records with Unilaw records, looking for anyone that's had problems with Unilaw that are missing from their Game record." Hawk grinned. "Totally brilliant! Get some sleep now, while I contact Unilaw and get them comparing records for us. It will be faster if I do that from within Game." His face abruptly blurred and reverted to an anonymous golden shape. The Hawk in Game had closed down his connection to the controlled droid. Hawk was gone, but I still sat there staring at the discarded droid, my head thinking confused and chaotic thoughts. Finally, I took out the new phone that Hawk had given me. I was aching with exhaustion now, but I had to make a call before I went to bed. It was only a moment before Nathan's face appeared on my phone screen. I watched his weary expression change to one of pure delight as I told him Hawk had given us back our dreams. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Ten –––––––– I woke to a world that smelled strongly of fish. I sat up in confusion, and saw the carriage was stationary with the doors wide open. There was no sign of Hawk's controlled droid, so I went across to look outside. It seemed to be early morning, there were waves rolling in to a pebbled beach, and the fish smell was coming from stacks of empty crates. I showered, changed into fresh clothes, and caught up with my laundry. After fifteen minutes, I was ready to face the world. There was still no sign of Hawk, so I headed out to search for him. It wasn't difficult to find Hawk. He was sitting on the beach, throwing stones into the incoming waves, and watching an autoboat towing its nets out at sea. He looked up when I approached, and patted the pebbles by his side. I sat down. "Where are we?" "On the south coast of England." "Why are we back in England, and what are we doing on a beach?" "I can't think of anything useful to do until Unilaw find a mismatch between records – if they find a mismatch between records at all – so I'm indulging in some nostalgia," said Hawk. "When I was a child, I used to live just along the coast from here. This is the nearest transport stop to it. Apparently, there's nothing left where I used to live, but the autoboats do a bit of fishing from this beach." "And the fish are transported in crates. That explains the stink around here." "I didn't know there was one," said Hawk. "This droid precisely replicates sight, hearing, and touch, but it has no sense of smell or taste." There was silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. "I was an only child. I lived with my parents in a house on the outskirts of a small seaside town. I remember the summers when I was small, the hot days on the beach, and the cries of the gulls soaring overhead. Life was good until I was about thirteen, then somehow things went wrong between me and the other kids. I can't even remember what started that now, but I was targeted by bullies and things got messy. I started skipping school and hiding in my bedroom playing computer games. I lived like that for the next five years." I wasn't sure what to say, so I kept quiet. "That was when I signed up for the trial period of Game and was flown to America along with the other volunteers. My body must still be in a freezer unit somewhere over there, but my mind has been wandering the worlds of Game for centuries. I've explored each new world that was added. Vanity, Automaton, Gothic, Ganymede, all two thousand of them. I was so occupied with the Game worlds that I forgot all about the real one. Now I find it isn't here anymore. The world you live in isn't mine, Jex. It's not just the places that have gone, but the whole way of life as well." He'd been staring out to sea, but now he turned to face me. "Your life must have been so different from mine. It's not just that you left school and started work at ten years old. You've never lived with your parents. You've probably never even lived in a house." "A house? You mean houses like there are in Game worlds? No, nothing like that. You live in dormitories while you're at school. In theory, each dormitory has an adult supervisor in Game who runs the place. In reality, the oldest kids usually run things, and the supervisor only calls you from Game if you're in trouble." I winced as painful old memories surfaced. "When you're ten years old, you leave school and the dormitories, get a job, and pay for your own room in an accommodation block. Having my own room at last, locking the door behind me and finally feeling safe, was the best moment in my life." Hawk shook his head. "I was so sorry for myself before I entered Game. I thought I had problems and a hard life, but compared to yours ... The Game did this, didn't it? The Game and the people like me, the people who were too busy having fun to spare a thought for who was doing the work in real life. Do you compare the childhoods we had with yours and hate us?" I was startled. "I don't know anything about the way childhood used to be." "I suppose you wouldn't. Nobody would bother teaching you about it, and you'd be too busy coping with the world you lived in to wonder how it got that way. All your thoughts are focused on planning for the day you'll enter Game." "That's right." I smiled, rejoicing in the fact I would be entering Game now. "I worked out my Game appearance a year ago. Now I just need to decide on my three surnames." Hawk laughed. "I don't have any surnames." I had to laugh too. "Well of course not. We were taught about Game naming conventions as soon as we started school. Founder Players have no surname. First Wave have one surname. The next two centuries of players have two. These days I'll need to have three that make me clearly distinct from all the other people called Jex in the Game. I was planning to use one of my mother's surnames and one of my father's surnames. Now I think I'll use my father's first name, Leigh, as well." "You said that you planned to have children eventually." I nodded. "Not for quite a while, but in ten or fifteen years' time." "And not just because of the baby bonus payments." Hawk seemed to be quoting something rather than asking a question. Had I said that in front of him? I couldn't remember, but maybe I had. I nodded again. "Especially now. It's hard to explain this, but my father dying in the Avalon bombing made a difference. I'm a singleton, an only child, like you. My mother defrosted from Game to have a baby because she was desperate to get the credits to pay her lifetime subscription. Now she's paid that, she'll definitely never have another child. My father might have had other children, but now he's dead ..." "Were your parents a couple in Game?" asked Hawk. "I'd never thought about having children, so I'm a bit out of date with how these things work." "They were never a couple in a romantic sense," I said. "They met on Ganymede. Do you remember me mentioning my mother had problems with an ex-boyfriend when she lived on Ganymede?" "Yes." "My mother spends all her time in Game socializing and designing dresses for herself and her friends, but my father is a member of ... was a member of both the Ganymede Admission Committee and the Ganymede Residents Assistance Volunteers. He helped my mother get the Game Techs to stop the harassment, and he was one of the few people she kept in touch with after she left Ganymede. When she decided to have a child, she asked him if she could use his DNA, and he agreed." I paused for a second. "They've been good parents, particularly my father. He always calls ... called me every week or two. That made a huge difference when I lived in the dormitories. The bullies always look for easy targets. Most kids are twins, and those usually stick together and defend each other, so the bullies pick on singletons like me. Singleton kids who had no contact at all from their parents had a very bad time. The fact my father was keeping an eye on me from inside Game kept me relatively safe." I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand. "I haven't heard from my mother since my father died. It's possible she doesn't know that he's dead. It never occurred to me that he might have been on Avalon during the world crash until I was told in that interrogation room. My mother might still think he's safe and well on Ganymede." Hawk looked sympathetic. "You should call her and make sure that she knows." I frowned anxiously. "I should, but I daren't risk it. My mother doesn't like unpleasant things. If I call her and tell her something as awful as the fact my father is dead, I know she'll cut off the call, and I'm worried she might never contact me again." "I could ask a Game Tech to make sure that she's been notified of your father's death." I stared at Hawk, startled by his offer. He'd already saved my future in Game, and I didn't like to ask him for yet more help, but I'd lost my father and daren't risk losing my mother too. "That would be very kind of you. My mother is Odele Thorpe Scott Matthys, resident of Game world Coral." There was a pause before Hawk spoke again. "The Game Tech says that your mother was among those officially informed of your father's death." I gave a sigh of relief. "That's all right then. It makes sense that my mother hasn't called me or messaged me since then. She's avoiding the issue of my father's death, blanking it out the way she always does with anything bad. I expect she'll wait a couple of months before calling me, and then never mention my father at all." "That's a very unfair way to treat you," said Hawk. I shrugged. "It's the way my mother is. It was my father who told me about the harassment problems she had on Ganymede. My mother has never mentioned them at all. When I was a small child, I used to daydream about training to become a great hunter and fighter in Game, and then fighting a duel with my mother's ex-boyfriend and killing him." Hawk laughed. "Are you still planning to do that?" "I've realized there's a snag with my daydream. The ex-boyfriend isn't likely to agree to fight a duel with me, and I can't just attack him without getting into a lot of trouble myself. If he ever tries bothering my mother again, it would be far more sensible for me to complain to a Game Tech and get him sentenced to another spell on Havoc. I'd still like to try some of the hunting and fighting though. Perhaps even join one of the battles against the great monsters of Game like the Kraken and the Behemoth." "I noticed you'd got several battle images on your room wall," said Hawk, "including one of me fighting the Kraken. That's because you've been studying the tactics I used to kill it?" "Yah," I said, with debatable truth. "Obviously I'd have to train for years before I could think of joining a battle against the Kraken. Anyway, getting back to the subject of having kids, my father's death has somehow made me feel I'd like to have kids myself one day. I want to keep an eye on them, like my father did for me, and give them a helping hand when they start in Game." There were a few minutes of silence before Hawk spoke. "Things have changed for me too. I knew from the start that investigating the bombing of a Game server complex was going to be a huge challenge, but the situation is turning out to be even worse than I thought." He paused. "I have a theory about how this hunt will end. This situation is like one of the old legends they use as a basis for some of the Game worlds. If you listen to the silly things they say in Game, then I'm a legendary hero. I'm taking on a Game Tech, one of the gods of the Game who is running amok. I think this hunt will end with me saving the Game, but dying myself." He turned towards me. "Don't laugh." I didn't feel like laughing. I could see there was a very real danger that a rogue Game Tech would find a way to delete a player who was hunting him. "I think I'm going to die," Hawk repeated. "It's strange. I've had four hundred years of fun and fury, I've done so much, but all I can think about are the things I haven't done. One of them ..." He let the words trail off. I waited a moment before speaking. "One of them is?" "Jex, I'm four hundred years out of date in some matters. This is one of them. I've never tangled with this area before, and I don't know how ... personal ... the thing I want to say is these days. It certainly feels personal to me. I don't wish to embarrass you, and you are perfectly free to say no." I stared at him. Was he really hinting that ...? No, he couldn't be. Hawk blushed, picked up another pebble, and threw it into the waves. "I've never had kids. Now I know I want them. I'd like to be around to keep an eye on them the way you said, but I don't think I will be. I would like to put on record that you have the right to use my DNA to father your children." I sat there in stunned silence. He stared out to sea. "Please say no if you don't wish to accept. Even if you do say yes, then you mustn't feel committed in any way. I appreciate you don't intend to have children for years yet. When you do, this would just be there as an option for you. If you care about someone else by then, want to have his children instead of mine, you're free to do that." "Yah," I said, in a strangled voice. He turned his head to look at me. "You wish me to put it on record?" "Yah," I repeated. We both looked at the sea, the beach, anywhere but at each other. It was a while before I could pull myself together enough to speak again. "How could I say no? Having a Founder Player for a father will give my kids a great start in Game." I meant to say it in a light, joking voice. I didn't manage it, but Hawk smiled anyway. "Thanks, Jex. I'm happy knowing you'll be there to watch over them. You think like me, and I was wondering if one day the two of us could ..." He stopped. "Moment." I waited expectantly for a couple of minutes. "We were right about the bomber recruiting a teenager," said Hawk. "The Unilaw team have found a mismatch between Game and Unilaw records for a boy called Tomath. It's highly unlikely that it's just a random record error, because Tomath lives less than thirty miles from the bomb site." "Have Unilaw brought Tomath in for questioning yet?" "No. I've warned them not to do anything that could alarm Tomath. We need to think very carefully before we make our next move. Tomath may not have known what was in the packages when he sent them off in the delivery trolley, but by now he must have realized they were the bombs that destroyed the Avalon server complex. If Unilaw bring him in for questioning, he's not going to admit he was involved in something that killed over eleven thousand people. He'll probably refuse to say anything at all, and even if Unilaw do manage to get him to talk, how much could he tell us?" "Not much," I said. "The bomber won't have given Tomath any clues to his identity. All Tomath is likely to know is that the bomber is a Game Tech, and we've worked that out for ourselves." "Tomath's biggest value to us is that he may have a way to contact the bomber," said Hawk, "or the bomber may get in touch with him again to ask him to help with another job. Given all the new security measures protecting Game data, the bomber would surely choose to use Tomath again rather than risk messing around with another teenager's Game record." Hawk paused and frowned. "I'm not sure how the bomber would persuade Tomath to help him again though. He can't offer Tomath much of an additional bribe now that his record has already been cleared." "The bomber wouldn't use a bribe but a threat," I said grimly. "Tomath's record has been cleared, but the black mark could be put back again. The bomber might even threaten to pin the whole blame for the bombing on Tomath." I thought for a moment. "Tell me more about Tomath. Exactly how old is he?" "A month short of eighteen." "Where is he living? What class of accommodation block?" Hawk glanced sideways at something he could see in Game. "Tomath was living in a class B accommodation block but he moved to a room in a class D block three weeks ago. Is that important?" "Yah," I said. "I'm trying to build up a picture of what Tomath's like, what he's been through, and how he'll be feeling right now. He was living in a class B room, which is the best accommodation you can get unless you're a career cadet. That tells us that Tomath was one of the glitz crowd, spending money on luxuries now rather than concentrating on saving for his future in Game. What did he do to get into trouble, or rather what do Unilaw think he's done?" Hawk did the glancing sideways thing again. I guessed that he was reading a report in Game. "It happened the day after the Leebrook Ashton bill became law. Tomath was at a party where a boy was stabbed and nearly died. It sounds like it was a confusing situation, with flashing lights, loud music, and a couple of hundred teenagers packed close together dancing. Nobody saw what happened. The stabbing victim didn't see who stabbed him either, but said he'd had an argument with Tomath earlier." "So Unilaw brought Tomath in for questioning. Did they have any hard evidence that Tomath had stabbed the boy?" Hawk shook his head. "Unilaw found the knife in a dish cleansing unit at the party venue. The knife had already been through the cleansing cycle, so any fingerprints and DNA were gone. Unilaw seem convinced Tomath was guilty of attempted murder, but they had no evidence so they ended up releasing him. Tomath moved to the class D accommodation block the next day." "So Unilaw had no evidence, but they put the fact Tomath was guilty of attempted murder on his record. Typical." I ran my fingers through my hair. "So Tomath was one of the glitz crowd. He spent his money on luxuries and having fun with his friends. He was too young to get into Game before the Leebrook Ashton bill raised the age of entry to nineteen." I paused. "The glitz crowd held parties the day after the Leebrook Ashton bill became law. Wake parties, where they all wore black and mourned being stuck in the real world for another year." "You seem to know a lot about the glitz crowd," said Hawk. "I was one of them for a few years when I was a medical cadet." I smiled as I remembered the friends I'd had back then. Gina, Diane, Bevan, Chen, and the obsessively creative Falcon. "There was a group of six of us, and we had a lot of fun at the parties, especially the fancy dress competitions. Our first effort at fancy dress was when we dressed up as Game monsters. We had a delivery trolley playing the part of a dragon, and laying egg shaped parcels." "That was the delivery trolley dragon that escaped in the middle of the night?" asked Hawk. "Yah. After that, we moved on to doing proper re-enactments of Game events. The best one was when we staged a re-enactment of your last two fights in the Battle Arena. Falcon was playing you, I was playing the woman you fought in the semi-final round, and Chen was your opponent in the final. Falcon had us practising the combat sequences for weeks." My smile faded into nothing. "That was the last event I took part in before I was dropped from the medical course. I couldn't keep in touch with my friends after that. I didn't want to get them in trouble with our instructor, and I couldn't have stayed part of the glitz crowd anyway. I had to work much longer hours and save every credit that I could." I gave an angry shake of my head, dismissing the irrelevant past. "So, Tomath went to one of the glitz crowd wake parties. All the kids there would have been in a bad mood and having arguments. Someone got stabbed. The victim's medical chip would have sent out an alarm call. Unilaw and the medics arrived, and Unilaw took Tomath in for questioning and decided he was guilty." "They could be right about that," said Hawk. "Possibly," I said grudgingly. "When Unilaw released Tomath, he went back to his room. Some of the other kids living in his accommodation block would have belonged to the glitz crowd too, and been at the same party as him. Those kids would know Unilaw thought Tomath was guilty of the stabbing, and want him to leave before he caused any trouble for them." I shrugged. "Tomath decided to do the smart thing. Grab what possessions he could, and leave fast before the other kids forced him out. He'd want to move far enough away that no one would hear about him being questioned by Unilaw. How far did he move?" Hawk glanced sideways and blinked in surprise. "Six hundred miles." "Tomath wasn't taking any chances," I said. "He travelled six hundred miles before looking for a new room. He had to rent one in a class D accommodation block, because getting anything better would involve his Game record being checked. He'd been used to an easy life surrounded by friends. Now he was living among strangers in a comfortless, basic room." I paused for a moment. "I know what that feels like, because I went through something similar after being dropped from the medical training course. Tomath had bigger problems though. Unilaw had put an accusation of attempted murder on his Game record. No Game world would accept a murderer, so he was a Game reject." I sighed. "I was nearly in this situation myself. Tomath's life was in ruins. He would have to hide the fact he was a Game reject from the other kids or they'd force him to move again. He'd be limited to getting temporary jobs for a few days at a time, so that no one would bother checking his Game record. He'd know that even worse problems lay ahead. As he got older, people would start asking why he hadn't entered Game." "But our bomber was looking through kids' Game records," said Hawk. "He was searching for a Game reject living close to the Avalon server complex. He found Tomath and contacted him." "Yah. Tomath would eagerly agree to do whatever the mysterious Game Tech wanted. He was being offered the answer to all his problems. With a clean record, he could get a better room, a proper job, and enter Game as soon as he was nineteen. Just think how shocked Tomath must have been when he saw the news about the Avalon world crash." "You've almost got me feeling sorry for Tomath," said Hawk, "but then I remember that he probably stabbed someone and definitely helped the bomber kill eleven thousand, two hundred, and ninety seven people." "Possibly stabbed someone, and the bomber wouldn't have told Tomath that the packages held bombs." "Maybe not," said Hawk. "I expect Tomath is hiding in his room right now, too terrified to come out. What if another kid goes and talks to him? Tries a bit of blackmail. They've seen something suspicious, and worked out that Tomath helped a Game Tech bomb the Avalon server complex. They're another Game reject, with a black mark on their record that will block them from entering Game. They say that Tomath has to get the Game Tech to help them, or they'll tell their story to Unilaw." Hawk nodded. "Tomath might co-operate if he thinks it's the only way to stop Unilaw finding out what he's done. What background story would the kid tell Tomath?" "It should be similar to what happened to Tomath, so he can identify with it. The details will have to be different of course. No glitz crowd. No party. The kid has to be in serious trouble, preferably involving at least one death, but nothing too violent. Perhaps the kid was delivering illegal fertility drugs and a customer died." Hawk gave me a bewildered look. "Fertility drugs are illegal?" I couldn't help laughing. Hawk really was incredibly out of date. "Black market ones are. A woman who has twins will get double baby bonus for going through one pregnancy. Since a lot of women have no children, women having more than two children are rewarded with a higher rate baby bonus. If someone has two sets of twins, she gets a huge amount of credits." Hawk still looked puzzled. "Some women aren't rated for twins for medical reasons," I continued, "so they just get one embryo implanted. There are drugs that can make an embryo divide into identical twins. In certain circumstances, that can happen naturally, so no one can prove if it was done using illegal drugs. If the pregnancy is successful, then the woman earns a lot of extra credits." "I see," said Hawk. "So the drugs are illegal because these women are taking a risk by having twins." "Yah. Sometimes the medical reason for not rating for twins is because there's a danger to the mother; sometimes it's because there's a danger to the babies. Either way, anyone caught supplying illegal fertility drugs faces a minimum charge of endangering human lives, and potentially murder charges as well." I thought the idea through and nodded. "I'll go and talk to Tomath." "I'm not sending you to do this, Jex. Remember that Tomath will be desperate to stop a blackmailer from going to Unilaw. He could easily get violent." I grinned. "Do you really believe that Nathan would be better than me in a fight?" "I wasn't thinking of sending Nathan either." "I'll do it," I repeated. "We'll only get one chance to fool Tomath, so we can't mess it up. I know exactly the right things to say. A woman died after taking fertility drugs. Unilaw thought I was involved, and brought me in for questioning. They let me go in the end because they couldn't prove anything, but I've got murder allegations on my Game record that will stop me getting into Game." Hawk hesitated for a moment. "Since the original Game Company was based in America, English has always been the official language of Game. Those Founder Players who didn't know much English to begin with, all learnt it within their first decade or two in Game, but Tomath is a real life teenager from an area of Europe that didn't speak English in my day. Wouldn't you hit language barriers if you tried to talk to him?" I shook my head. "Whatever his native language, Tomath will speak English as well. All kids have to learn to speak fluent English, because new players have a limited choice of worlds when they enter Game. They could have to spend decades living on English speaking worlds before they get a chance of becoming a resident of a world that speaks their own language." Hawk sighed. "All right, I'll let you go and see Tomath and do the talking, but you aren't going alone. I'll find you a bodyguard who knows how to fight and use a gun. He can pretend to be your boyfriend. Would it be plausible for you both to have been involved in delivering the fertility drugs?" "Yah," I said. "We should start by telling Tomath we were innocent, because any kid would say that, but we want to give him the impression we're actually guilty. That way Tomath will understand us trying to make a deal with him instead of taking our story to Unilaw." "You have to be very careful when you do this, Jex," said Hawk. "Make sure you don't get hurt, because I don't want anything bad to happen to the potential mother of my possible future offspring." | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Eleven –––––––– "Remember that it's your bodyguard's job to handle any violence, not yours," said Hawk. I laughed. "You've said that six times now." "That's because it's very important. I don't want you getting hurt, Jex. Dying in Game is painful, but you wake up safe and well in your home a few minutes later. I'm horribly aware that you're not in Game but in real life, where death isn't just painful but very, very permanent." "I'll be careful," I said. "Now get back inside the carriage. If anyone comes by and spots the legendary Hawk using a controlled droid, word will spread round the whole neighbourhood and we'll never get away with this." Hawk went back inside the long-distance carriage, and it started accelerating away, leaving me standing at a deserted transport stop. I stood there for a couple of minutes, thinking through the part I had to play. I wasn't Jex now, but a girl called Emma. I wasn't chasing a bomber, but trying to salvage my Game future. A group of delivery trolleys came rushing up from a neighbouring storage area. They'd be calling pods in a minute, so I hastily called one myself rather than get stuck waiting a long time. It was only a two stop ride to the apartment block where Emma shared a room with her boyfriend. I walked the length of three corridors to reach a battered door and unlocked it. I stepped into a room that was shockingly like the one where I genuinely lived. There was the familiar off-white shelving, paper-thin brown carpet, and a plethora of random Game images on the walls. There were even the same patches of rust on the metal frame of the mirror on the wall. The only real difference was this room was larger, and had a double instead of a single bed, because I was supposed to be sharing it with my boyfriend. I was hit by the thought of what would happen when the hunt for the bomber was over. There'd be no more chasing round after Hawk's controlled droid, no more luxury carriages and fancy meals. After the last few days, it would be hard to go back to my cheap room, basic food, and the stultifying boredom of patrolling the body stacks. I shook my head. It would be hard going back to my old existence, but I'd cope the way I'd always done, enduring the grimness of life in the real world and dreaming of my future in Game. I closed the door behind me and started methodically inspecting the contents of the room. The wall shelves held a clutter of cheap personal items, and an assortment of male and female clothes, mostly faded blue overalls like the ones I was wearing now. I checked the tags on the clothes. I didn't know who'd set up this place for us, but they'd done a good job. The smaller overalls were in my size, and presumably the larger ones would fit my "boyfriend" when he showed up. There was one dress, which was clearly the outfit Emma wore on special occasions. On the bed was a scanty item in black, which looked as if it was intended to please the boyfriend rather than provide any warmth. I hoped that the fake Game records for Emma and her boyfriend had been set up with as much care as this room. If I managed to talk Tomath into helping us, then the bomber would be studying every detail on those records. I wandered restlessly round the room again, and then stood looking into the mirror for a while. Our rogue Game Tech could have been spying on Hawk and seen me with him, so I'd removed my flower tattoo and made a few precautionary changes to my appearance using temporary dye and makeup. My brown hair was now blonde, my skin tones were a shade lighter than usual, and I had a different hairstyle. The end result was enough to confuse me when I saw my reflection, so hopefully it would be enough to confuse other people as well. I combed my hair, gave myself a squirt of cheap perfume, and then sat on a chair, waiting impatiently for my pseudo boyfriend to arrive. Hawk had organized the bodyguard for me at least twelve hours ago. Obviously the man would have to travel to get here, but I'd had to travel a long distance myself. Was my bodyguard coming from halfway round the world, or had he just got lost? I'd left my new secure phone in the carriage with Hawk, because my old phone was far more suitable for the part of Emma. I couldn't call Nathan to chat on an unsecured link, so I just checked yet again for messages from my mother, and then put the phone away again. I'd been waiting for about an hour and a half when the door finally opened. A skinny lad in blue overalls came in. He was totally unremarkable, and perfectly believable in the part he was playing. A particularly convincing touch was the fact his black hair was in desperate need of a haircut. "Hi boyfriend." I grinned at him. "Hi Emma," he replied. "I'm Michael. I'm told you have to use a fake name for this operation, but I can use my own." I looked him up and down. "How old are you?" "Physically? I entered Game three days after my eighteenth birthday. I've spent the last two years in Game, and defrosted to do this job." Now I understood why I'd had to wait for him to arrive. I'd been assuming my bodyguard was already in real life like me, but he'd had to be defrosted from Game. There'd be a delay while his freezer unit was moved from the body stacks to a medical unit, three or four hours spent defrosting, and then yet more time taken up adjusting to being back in real life and travelling here. "My physical age can be my age for this operation as well," he continued. "I've been told our cover story is that I was tempted into making some fast credits running errands for a fertility drug supplier. I talked you into helping me, and the first couple of deliveries went smoothly, but we hit disaster the third time. The woman who took the drugs died a few hours later." I frowned. "Why did she die so quickly?" "The person making the fertility drugs had made a bad mistake. We've no idea what that mistake was, because we're not medical experts. All we know is that Unilaw caught and charged three of the people involved. Unilaw dragged us in for questioning as well. They couldn't prove anything, so we weren't charged, but the whole thing went on our Game records." Michael's shoulders sagged in despair. "Life has been a nightmare since then. We lost our jobs in the body stacks, and had to move to class D accommodation. Two weeks later, the kids in our new accommodation block heard about us being questioned by Unilaw. We had to move again, and decided to travel all the way from England into Europe. We've been here for three months now, and we seem to have managed to leave the past behind us this time, but our big problem is that we'll probably be refused entry to Game." He lifted his head and laughed. "Everyone else was disappointed about the Leebrook Ashton bill, but it was a huge relief for us. We had an extra year before the other kids would start asking why we hadn't entered Game yet. Now we've had another stroke of luck. We see Tomath as our big chance to salvage our futures. We couldn't know about Tomath's record being cleared, but we're sure a Game Tech will be able to do something to help us." "Very good," I said. "I'm pleased with the way you're entering into the spirit of this." "You're my girlfriend, Emma, I always try to please you." Michael pointed at the black item of clothing on the bed. "It looks like you try to please me too. I think we had a few fights after we were questioned by Unilaw. You blamed me for getting us into trouble, but now you've forgiven me and we're working together to solve our problems." "We had a few fights, yah. You think I've forgiven you, but I'm still holding a grudge about you getting me into this mess. I was the one who spotted Tomath acting suspiciously with the delivery trolley. Once I heard about the Avalon crash, I realized Tomath had been involved with the bombing, and came up with the plan to get his Game Tech friend to help us. You understand that I do the talking?" He nodded. "You understand that I do the fighting?" "I've been told that several times, yah. Have you got a gun?" He smiled. "I have two guns and three knives." I studied him carefully. "I can't see them." "People aren't supposed to see them." "You work for Unilaw?" "That's right," he said. "I chose to take the career cadet approach to paying my lifetime Game subscription, and signed up with Unilaw." "Sorry to pull you out of Game like this." "That's not a problem. I volunteered for this. If you don't get hurt then I'm promised a six month holiday when I'm back in Game. If you do get hurt, then I lose my holiday and a Founder Player is going to make the rest of my Game life unbearable, so please let me handle any rough stuff." I laughed. "Are we ready to go and visit Tomath?" "I think we are." Michael addressed thin air. "Surveillance, are you ready? What's the situation with Tomath?" A female voice spoke from a tiny ear piece in my right ear. "We're ready. Tomath left his room briefly an hour ago to buy a stack of sandwich packs. He's back in his room now." "You're hearing that too?" Michael asked me. "Yah." "Let's get moving then. Unless you want to model that little black scrap of clothing on the bed for me." He gave me a mischievous look. By now I'd decided I liked the boy despite the fact he worked for Unilaw. He wasn't exactly handsome, but he was clearly very bright and had a sense of humour. I laughed at him. "You behave yourself." He pulled a face of mock innocence at me. "I've no idea what you're complaining about, Emma. I'm your boyfriend. I see you wearing that black lace every night." We went out of the room, walked along a couple of corridors, and stopped outside a door. I double checked the number on it was right. I was feeling nervous now. That was fine. Emma would feel nervous doing this. I pressed the doorbell, and heard it ring on the other side of the door. There was a long pause. I rang the bell again, and then a third time. Finally, I gave up on the bell, and tried talking through the door. "I know you're in there." There was no response. I gave a loud sigh. "I know you're standing on the other side of this door. You're listening to me talking, and hoping I'll give up and go away. That's not going to happen. I saw what you did. I found out your name and where you lived. You're very lucky that I was the one who saw you, because most kids would have gone to Unilaw right away. As it happens, I'd rather stay clear of Unilaw because I've had my own problems with them. I'm happy to keep quiet about the whole thing so long as you do me a small favour." I thought I heard a faint sound on the other side of the door. I waited a minute before speaking again. "Why don't you open the door and talk to me, Tomath? If you're scared there's a whole mob of Unilaw officers out here, then you're being ridiculous. Unilaw officers wouldn't be standing here arguing with you, they'd just smash the door down and wave guns at you." I waited a few more seconds. "All right, I'm getting tired of standing out here. Most of the local kids will either be asleep or at work right now. First of all, I'm going to start kicking your door to wake up all the sleeping kids in nearby rooms. Then I'm going to keep screaming the word Avalon at the top of my voice until they all come to see what's going on. Then I'm going to call Unilaw and tell them you were the one who planted the bombs." I gave the door a kick. There was a sudden scrabbling noise on the other side of it, and a voice called out. "Wait!" I heard what sounded like furniture being dragged aside, and then the door opened a few inches and Tomath peered out at me. He had lank, greasy, fair hair, and was wearing what must have been an expensive outfit once, but was stained and crumpled now. He gave me a calculating look, and then I saw his pale blue eyes widen as he saw Michael standing next to me. He tried to close the door, but Michael leant on it. "Yah, there are two of us," he said. "I thought you were more likely to open the door if I kept quiet." "Shall we go inside to talk," I asked, "or do you want us to discuss the bombing out here in the corridor?" Tomath stood there frowning for a couple of seconds, and then backed away. We followed him into the room, squeezing past the cupboard that he'd been using to barricade the door. "I'm Emma," I said, "and this is my boyfriend, Michael." Tomath spoke in a hostile voice that had only the faintest trace of an accent. "Why did you force your way in here, and why do you keep making wild threats about the Avalon bombing? I know nothing about it." I gave him a pleading look. "You've got to help us. Michael and I got in trouble with Unilaw over fertility drug smuggling. A woman died. We were totally innocent, but Unilaw put everything on our Game records. We lost our jobs, had to move rooms to a different area, ended up having to move a second time and leave England entirely." "I've no idea why you're telling me these things," said Tomath. "Because this is going to stop us getting into Game." I waved my hands in a despairing gesture, and hoped I wasn't overacting my part. Michael gave a heavy sigh. "You should let me do the talking." I glared at him. "You keep quiet. It's your fault that we got into this mess." "I thought you'd forgiven me," he said, in wounded tones. "You were wrong." I turned back to Tomath. "I know you've got a Game Tech friend who can help us." I was studying every shifting expression on Tomath's face, and saw his surprise and alarm at my mention of a Game Tech. "I don't have any Game Tech friends," he said. "Yah, you do." I reached out a hand in appeal, and Tomath backed away from me. "Please help me." "Us," said Michael. I gave him an angry look, and then turned back to Tomath. "We know you planted the bombs. We don't want to have to go and tell Unilaw about it. We'd much rather that you help us get into Game." I'd built up a mental image of a Tomath that was utterly devastated by what had happened to him. I'd expected him to be terrified by our arrival, not ask too many questions about how we got our knowledge, just eagerly agree to do whatever we wanted. I was disconcerted when he gave me a defiant stare. "What makes you think I know anything about the Avalon bombing? You said that you saw something. Exactly what did you see?" "We live a few corridors away from here," I said. "I was coming home from work, walking back from the transport stop, when I saw you with the delivery trolley. I noticed that it didn't look right." I knew the minute I'd said it that I'd made a mistake. Tomath's face was suspicious now. "You couldn't have seen that." I thought fast. The closest transport stop to Tomath's room was on the same line as the transport stop for the Avalon server complex. Hawk and I had guessed that he'd brought the trolley to his room, made the modifications, given it the bombs, and sent it on its way. It only had to go back to the transport stop, get into a freight pod, and after that there'd be no one to see it on its journey. The bomber would have checked the schedule to make sure it didn't run into any maintenance crews at the server complex. Our guess had been wrong. Tomath had known he was doing something illegal, so he hadn't risked bringing the trolley anywhere near his room, but made the modifications somewhere else. I had to bluff my way out of this, but how? My ear piece was dead silent, which meant surveillance didn't have any helpful ideas. "You didn't see the trolley when you were coming home from work, Emma," said Michael, his voice making it an accusation. "You've been visiting Ivan again, haven't you?" "What if I did call in to see Ivan on my way home?" I watched Tomath out of the corner of my eye. He must have worked on the delivery trolley near a different transport stop, but it would surely have been one on the same line. There'd be no point in risking the trolley going to a busy interchange. I remembered that transport stop where Hawk's carriage had stopped to let me out. We'd chosen it because most of the rooms in that area were empty and being refurbished. That meant there wouldn't be many people around, just delivery trolleys taking items to and from the neighbouring storage area. I took a desperate gamble. "Ivan's just moved into a newly refurbished room. It's only two stops away, so I thought I'd call in to say hello on my way back from work." Tomath's expression flickered when I said two stops. My gamble was right. He'd grabbed a delivery trolley at that storage area, and taken it to one of the empty rooms to make the modifications. "I told you to stay away from Ivan." Michael gripped both my arms and shook me. I pulled my arms away. "You've no reason to be jealous of Ivan. He's just being friendly, and I lost all my other friends after you dragged me into that fertility drug business." I turned back to Tomath. "I didn't pay much attention to you and the delivery trolley until I saw the Game droid spying on you. I didn't understand what was going on at the time, but then I heard about the bombing and worked out that you were involved. After that, I just had to ask a few questions to find out your name and room." I shrugged. "We don't care why your Game Tech friend wanted to blow up a server complex, or why you helped plant the bombs. All we want is for the Game Tech to fix things so we can get into Game. If you arrange that for us, then we'll keep quiet, and everything will be fine." Tomath's expression had changed to one of acceptance now. He believed that his employer hadn't trusted him and had been spying on his movements. "All I can do is leave a message," he said, in a defeated voice. "It could be a while before the Game Tech sees it." "That would be wonderful." I dug a piece of paper out of my pocket. "These are our Game identity numbers. I've put my phone number as well, so the Game Tech can call us. Just get us into Game and I'll be ever so grateful." "You can believe that," said Michael bitterly. "Emma's grateful to everyone. Ivan, me, you, the entire neighbourhood!" I whirled round to face him. "Don't talk about me like that!" Michael grabbed my arm and turned towards the door. "We can discuss this when we get home. Come on!" The grip he had on my arm was painfully tight, but I decided I'd better delay complaining about it until we were outside. I was shocked when Michael suddenly shoved me forwards so I went sprawling on my hands and knees by the door. I heard the sound of a blow and a loud gasp of pain from behind me, grabbed hold of the cupboard beside me to drag myself to my feet, and turned ready to join in the fight. It was clear that my help wasn't needed though, because Michael was already advancing on a staggering Tomath. Michael hit Tomath again while he was still off balance, sending him toppling backwards and colliding heavily with the wall. Michael took another rapid step forward, and snatched a knife from Tomath's flailing right hand. "Did you really believe I was fool enough to let a pathetic creature like you stab us in the back?" Michael gave a contemptuous shake of his head. "You'd better make sure that the Game Tech contacts us, because if we don't hear anything then I'm going to beat you to a pulp before I go and talk to Unilaw." Michael and I went out into the corridor, and walked back to the room that we were supposed to share. As soon as the door was closed behind us, I turned to Michael. "You did well stopping Tomath from stabbing us." "I was just doing my job." "But I was supposed to do all the talking." "I thought you needed some help at times. It worked, didn't it?" "True," I admitted. "I wonder how long we'll have to wait before something happens." "Maybe hours. Maybe days." Michael gave an oddly one-shouldered shrug, and sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm in no hurry. We can spend the time getting to know each other better." I gave him a dubious look. Surveillance had this room filled with spy eyes and ears, so he couldn't be suggesting anything too intimate, but I pointedly sat down on a shabby chair in the far corner of the room anyway. "There's no point in getting to know each other. As soon as this job is over, you'll be going back into Game." Michael gave me an assessing look. "You must be nearly eighteen though, so you'll be in Game yourself very soon. We could meet up again there." I wasn't sure if he was serious. It didn't matter whether he was or not. I pointed out the obvious problem with his suggestion. "You're forgetting the Leebrook Ashton bill. I can't enter Game until I'm nineteen now." He laughed. "A good thing is worth waiting for, and a year isn't all that long. We can exchange Game names now, and you can contact me when you arrive in Game." I hesitated. I liked the boy, but ... "You clearly aren't interested," said Michael, "so please forget I suggested it. Let's talk about something else instead." "No," I said. "I think you'll have forgotten all about me by the time I enter Game, but if not ... I'll be Jex Thorpe Leigh Grantham, hopefully of Ganymede." "I'm Michael Dans Lincoln Washington. Call me as soon as you're in Game. In fact, there's no reason why we can't exchange calls before then, and make a few plans for ..." He broke off, and gave me an anxious look. "Why are you staring at me like that?" Michael's one-shouldered shrug had seemed strangely familiar, but I'd been too stupid to figure out why. I couldn't miss the name though. Hawk had been my hero for years, so I knew all the Game trivia about him, including the fact his real life name had been Michael Dans. I'd no idea where he'd got the Lincoln and Washington from, but ... "You're Hawk!" | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Twelve –––––––– Hawk hesitated, clearly considering denying everything, and then sighed. "I was being careful to speak like a teenager today, saying yah instead of yes. How did you know I was Hawk?" "Because of the joke you were playing on me. You thought it was funny to pretend you wanted to contact me when I entered Game, but telling me a Game name that included your real life name gave you away." I was annoyed about the joke. No, I was far more than just annoyed. I was deeply hurt and disappointed that Hawk had made fun of me like that, but I mustn't lose my temper with him. Even if he looked like an ordinary kid now, he was still a Founder Player. Hawk could mock me all he liked and I just had to accept it meekly. "That wasn't a joke," said Hawk. "I wanted to meet you as my real self, as Michael, because I thought ... Moment." The skinny kid, who was the real life body of the legendary Hawk, took a phone from his pocket and raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Surveillance, I'm afraid I need some privacy now. Don't worry, I'll turn off the jammer as soon as something starts happening." He clicked a button on his phone and looked back at me. "If the device in this personal messenger works properly, then I've just jammed all the spy eyes and ears surveillance planted in this room." "We call those things phones, not personal messengers, these days," I said coldly. "Ah, the real world has gone back to using the phone word again," said Hawk. The jamming device in Hawk's phone definitely worked, because the female voice of surveillance started whining away in my ear about their lack of sound and vision. "Surveillance sounds a little upset," I said. It was about two minutes before surveillance accepted that Hawk wasn't going to turn off his jamming device and the voice shut up. "Peace at last," said Hawk. "As I was saying, I wasn't playing a joke on you. I didn't tell you I was defrosting because I wanted to meet you as the real me, as Michael, and I was perfectly serious about exchanging Game names." My anger was mixed with confusion now. "You weren't making fun of me when you suggested that?" "Of course I wasn't making fun of you," said Hawk. "Since the first moment I saw you, I've been struck by the way you think through problems, the way that you keep fighting your cause even when you're scared to death, and the way your face burns with anger at injustice. I wanted to tell you how much I liked you, see if you liked me too, but you only knew me as Hawk the Unvanquished." He brushed a stray strand of black hair away from his eyes. "I've learnt the hard way that it's impossible to build anything good on a foundation of lies. I knew that if I wanted any chance of a relationship with you, then I'd have to stop acting the part of Hawk the Unvanquished, and explain to you about Michael being my real self." For a moment, I didn't understand what he meant by acting the part of Hawk the Unvanquished and Michael being his real self, but then I remembered how smoothly assured Hawk had always been when he was dealing with his adoring fans. All the times when Hawk had seemed distressed, human and vulnerable, had been when he was alone with me and Nathan, or with old friends like Romulus, Remus, and Kwame. "You think of Hawk the Unvanquished as your public image rather than your real self?" I asked. "I think of Hawk the Unvanquished as a public image that's in danger of swallowing my real self whole. I was trying to work out how I could possibly explain to you about Michael. I was scared that you wouldn't understand. I was even more scared that you would understand and recoil in disgust, because Hawk is a glossy legend while Michael is just a mess." He gave that one-shouldered shrug again. "When I decided to defrost from Game, I realized this would give me the chance to solve the whole relationship problem as well. I wouldn't have to explain to you about Michael, because I could show you Michael. I could step free from the public image, and all the complications of being a Founder Player, and meet you as just another teenager." He paused. "My plan was that if you seemed to like Michael, then I'd suggest we could meet again when you entered Game. If you turned down my suggestion of keeping in contact, I could just quietly fade away without embarrassing either of us. I knew I'd have to give you a fake Game name to contact me, but I could get a Game Tech to make sure any messages for that fake Game name were sent to me." I was struggling to accept this situation was really happening, let alone work out how I felt about it, so I changed the subject slightly. "I don't understand how you got here so fast. It was less than two hours between me saying goodbye to your droid at the transport stop, and you walking into this room. Just defrosting your body would take a lot longer than that, and you mentioned it was stored in a freezer unit in America." "My body had already been moved to a medical unit, defrosted, and flown here before I said goodbye to you," said Hawk. "I only had to close the carriage doors, and say I was ready to leave Game. An instant later, I was opening my eyes on a table with a couple of doctors checking me over." "Didn't it take time for you to adjust to being in a real body again? Surely after four hundred years ..." He laughed. "I spent an hour acclimatizing before I came here. It helped that I've had a lot of experience of adjusting to different Game bodies, swapping between being human to being a ghost, merman, or centaur. Leaving Game was nothing like as shocking an experience as when I entered it." He was silent for a moment, his distracted expression showing he was thinking back through the centuries. "Both the Game environment and our bodies were pretty primitive back then. I remember how strange it was during the first few weeks. There was no sense of smell at all, and everything you touched felt oddly furry. You kept finding gaps in the world too, where there was nothing but a patch of black mist." He shook his head. "There have been continuous improvements to Game through the years. Now the experience of being in a Game body matches real life so closely, that waking up was surprisingly easy. Moving around felt quite natural, though there's a sort of dragging, tired feeling about being in a real body. We can eat and drink in Game if we want, though it's not necessary the way it is in real life, so that wasn't too strange either." He blushed. "The one thing I found hard was ... The bodily functions that remove waste products." I laughed. "No one has ever felt the need to put that in Game," he said, "and I wouldn't encourage the Game Techs to add it in future." "Well, I think you made a fantastic adjustment. I'd never have guessed you weren't an ordinary kid just by watching you move around, and you handled Tomath so easily when he tried to stab us." Hawk pulled a self-deprecating face that was a close echo of one of his Game expressions. "Please don't mention that. For a legendary fighter that was a humiliating exhibition. I was appallingly slow, and it wasn't because I was unfamiliar with a real body. The truth is that I was dreadfully unfit when I was frozen, and I'd just injured a muscle in my shoulder as well." He rubbed his left shoulder. "That's still sore, so I'm a bit worried about how I'd manage a proper fight. I should be all right with guns. Anything involving genuine muscle power will be difficult, but I'll have to cope because there's no time for me to get into training now." "I hate to admit it, but Unilaw were probably right after all." "About what?" "About Tomath being the one who stabbed the boy at the party. How did you spot that Tomath was going to try to stab us? Did you see his knife?" "I've spent a lot of time in the Battle Arena," said Hawk. "Plenty of fighters put on a beaten into surrender act just before they try to catch you by surprise with a sneaky tactic. Tomath's expression and voice were those of someone who'd given up, but his muscles were tensing for action. I was ready for him to pull a knife and attack us." There was a short silence. "Who knows that you've defrosted from Game?" I asked. "Among the Game Techs, Kwame and his team know. Among the players, Cassandra is dealing with messages for me, keeping up the illusion that I'm still in Game. Other than that, only a couple of doctors and the core members of the Unilaw investigation team know that I'm Hawk. Now you know it too, I'll tell Unilaw to inform Nathan and include him in the operation." "Why did you decide to defrost anyway? When I suggested it might be safer for you to leave Game, you ruled it out." "I ruled out leaving Game just for reasons of my personal safety. Leaving Game to track down our rogue Game Tech is different." Hawk grinned at me. His eyes weren't as dark as those of the Game Hawk, but there was something similar in their expression. "I'm never good at delegating things to others," he said. "I was happy to let Nathan study Game information for me, but that's a very special case. I doubt I'd be able to understand that level of technical information, and on a purely selfish note I don't want to know how the Game Techs design the monsters I fight. It would spoil all my Game fun. I aim to kill the Behemoth solo one day, and if I know the Game design behind it, well, that would be cheating." I nodded. "I'd feel the same, but Nathan is loving every moment. He thinks it may help him become a Game Tech one day." Hawk gave me a mischievous look that definitely belonged on his famous Game face. "It'll do far more than that. Nathan's nosing through Game secrets at lightning speed. At the rate he's learning, within a couple of days he'll know so much that the Game Techs can never let him be just an ordinary player." I blinked. "You mean ...?" Hawk nodded. "Nathan's studying their confidential training texts. He's playing around with actual Game monsters and scenery. They'll have to make him a Game Tech as soon as he enters Game." "That's wonderful," I said. "Becoming a Game Tech, helping design worlds, is Nathan's dream." "I was happy to delegate learning Game information to Nathan," said Hawk, "but hunting the bomber and fighting are my job. That's why I decided to defrost. Of course, there was the extra incentive that I'd be able to meet you as my real self." Hawk seemed to be studying my face. I could feel myself blushing. "What do you think will happen now?" I asked. "Tomath said he'd leave a message for the Game Tech. I planted two spy eyes in his room while we were there. Surveillance is watching him like a ..." I grinned. "Like a hawk." The legendary skinny kid with the unruly black hair matched my grin. "Exactly. I'm sure they'll let us know when he does anything." "I hope he doesn't take too long. This could get boring." Hawk had that mischievous look on his face again. "I could suggest a way to entertain ourselves. We're planning to have kids, and there's a double bed here. We could bypass the whole DNA thing." I stared at him in shock and confusion. "I don't know how relationships worked four centuries ago, but these days you don't tell a girl that you're interested in her and then expect to go to bed with her five minutes later." Hawk's mischievous expression changed to panic. "I didn't mean it that way." "As for the DNA thing ..." I shook my head. "I've had my contraceptive shots, so I can't get pregnant until they give me my hormone booster." "I didn't mean the DNA thing either." Hawk groaned. "I was trying to flirt with you, make a light-hearted joke to tell you I found you attractive, and I totally messed it up because I'm Michael again. Whenever Michael tried to talk to a girl, he'd either be too shy to say anything at all, or come out with a horribly crass remark." "Oh." I thought about that for a moment, and remembered the remark Michael had made about me modelling the black lace for him. I'd known he was flirting back then and laughed. Now I knew Michael was Hawk, it changed everything. I couldn't be sure whether he'd messed up that last attempt at flirtation, or whether I was reacting the wrong way because he was Hawk. It was probably a combination of both things. "Don't worry, I've got the message," said Hawk. "You aren't attracted to Michael. I thought it meant something that you were willing to exchange Game names with me and agreed I could contact you when you entered Game. I should have known you were just being polite. In Game I'm the mighty Hawk, but here I'm just gawky, incoherent Michael again." He flopped backwards to lie on the bed. "It's been four hundred bleeping years and nothing's changed. No girl could ever be interested in dating repellent Michael." Hawk was a legendary hero of Game, but right now he just looked like a deeply depressed teenage boy. I frowned at him before speaking. "I don't think you're repellent. I'm just bewildered by this situation. I don't understand why you'd be interested in me when you've got hordes of girl fans in Game." "The hordes of girl fans adore the flawless Hawk the Unvanquished," said Hawk. "There were some moments between us when I let the act slip, stopped being Hawk and was Michael, and there seemed to be a genuine connection between us." "But everyone is much better looking in Game than in real life, and people say that sex is a lot better in Game too." "Everyone can be good looking in Game, so it's your personality that matters." Hawk stared gloomily up at the ceiling. "I wouldn't know about the sex, because I never had sex in real life. I hope that jamming device is working properly, because if surveillance heard me say that, then I'll ..." The female voice of surveillance spoke in my ear again. "We're hoping you can still hear us." "No!" yelped Hawk. "Tomath was walking round his room," continued surveillance, "he's now using his phone to do something." Hawk gave a sigh of relief. "For a second, I thought she was going to say a whole mob of Unilaw officers had been listening to my confessions of sexual inexperience." "Tomath has now put a note on his personal online diary detailing your visit and asking for help," said surveillance. "Personal online diary?" Hawk turned to me. "Who can see that?" "In theory your online diary is private," I said, "but everyone's very careful what they put on it. The diary is linked to your Game record, so Unilaw officials and Game Techs can access it." Hawk nodded. "So now we have to wait until the bomber checks Tomath's online diary." "If the bomber ever checks it at all. Putting myself in his or her head, I wouldn't care if Tomath had a problem and wanted to contact me. The only time I'd bother with Tomath was when I wanted to order him to do another job." "Kwame told all the Game Techs that one of their own ranks was involved in the bombing. Our rogue Game Tech will be anxious to know what else we've discovered, and watching Tomath's record for any notes about him being questioned by Unilaw." "Point," I said. "If our bomber does access Tomath's diary, will Unilaw be able to trace their identity?" "I doubt it. He or she has covered their tracks very well so far. I expect they'll have a way to check Tomath's diary without leaving any clues, but eventually they'll make a mistake. Game Techs are used to preparing everything well in advance and being totally in control of a situation. Our bomber will be most vulnerable when forced to respond rapidly to an unexpected event." "Like us blackmailing Tomath?" "Yes." Hawk groaned. "I must remember not to say yes but yah, the way all kids do these days, or I'll give myself away." "If the Game Tech decides to contact us, then we use the same story we told Tomath? Pretend we're desperate and we'll do anything if the Game Tech helps us get into Game." "Yah." The voice of surveillance spoke again. "Tomath's personal diary has been accessed." Hawk sat up, and clicked the button on his phone to stop jamming the eyes and ears in the room. "Surveillance, have you got details of who accessed the diary?" "The access came from within Game," said surveillance, "but we were unable to obtain any further details since the access lasted for less than one hundredth of a second." Hawk frowned. "Less than one hundredth of a second? That makes no sense. The bomber couldn't have read Tomath's note in that time." "The access wasn't done manually by the bomber," said surveillance, in a pitying voice, "but by an automated process." "Oh, I see." Hawk clicked the jamming button again and pulled a face at me. "Surveillance still seems unhappy with me." I grinned. "Just a little." "All Game Techs are computer experts," said Hawk. "It makes sense that our bomber would use an automated process to do things like check Tomath's Game record and diary. Presumably our message has now been sent to the bomber." I felt a surge of adrenalin, preparing me for instant action. "The bomber is bound to take a while to decide whether or not to contact us," added Hawk. I calmed down again. "What if the Game Tech doesn't bother contacting us, just clears our fake records? We won't have learnt anything at all." "I doubt the bomber would help us without asking for something in return. It's more likely they'd decide to do nothing at all and abandon Tomath to his fate, but they'll be torn between curiosity and caution. I'm hoping that curiosity will win." There was silence for a while after that. I temporarily abandoned worrying about the bomber, and went back to worrying about purely personal issues. "You didn't tell me you were defrosting because you wanted to meet me as Michael," I said. "Your idea was to keep pretending to be an ordinary player and wait until I entered Game. I suppose a year doesn't seem that long a time to you, but what were you going to do after that?" "I planned to mask up." "Mask up? What does that mean?" "Founder Players can't go anywhere without attracting huge amounts of attention. Sometimes we get a Game Tech to alter our appearance and give us a fake Game name. Then we can fade into the background and do things without people knowing who we are." I was puzzled. "But players in Game have an arm bracelet that shows their status. The fact your bracelet is diamond would tell everyone that you're a Founder Player." Hawk laughed. "We can mask that too; get our bracelets changed from diamond to be gold, silver or bronze like ordinary players. My idea was to mask up, meet you, and see how things progressed. If it looked as if things were working out between us, I'd pick a good moment to tell you who I really was." "Didn't it occur to you that I might be a bit annoyed about you lying to me?" Hawk sighed and flopped backwards on to the bed again. "I didn't think this through very well, did I? Apart from anything else, it was utterly stupid of me to think I could hide the fact I was Hawk for weeks or months. The reality was that I couldn't even manage a couple of hours without giving myself away." "I was totally convinced by your story until you made the mistake of saying your real life name. You looked just like an ordinary kid who'd entered Game at eighteen. How old are you anyway? Physically, I mean. Your real life age is classed as medical information, so it isn't on your open record." "I told you the exact truth about my age," said Hawk. "I entered Game three days after my eighteenth birthday, which meant I was the youngest of the Founder Players. For legal reasons, the company insisted you had to be over eighteen to enter the Game. If I'd been born four days later, then Hawk would never have existed." That was a disturbing thought. I couldn't imagine the Game without the charismatic Hawk. There were plenty of other Founder Players, but Hawk was the embodiment of all the Game legends. "Would you like to know what I thought when I first saw Michael?" I asked. Hawk leaned on one elbow to get a better view of me. "No one can resist asking to hear that sort of thing. I'll probably regret it." I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the memory surface. "I thought you needed a haircut. You weren't exactly handsome, but you certainly weren't ugly. You seemed very intelligent." Hawk tipped his head to one side and back again. "Could be a lot worse. At least you didn't think I had the sex appeal of a decomposing slug." I laughed. "No, in fact I found you much more attractive than Nathan. You weren't just bright; you had a sense of humour too. When you suggested us meeting up after I entered Game, I only hesitated because I thought you'd have forgotten all about me by then. If you'd asked me for a date in real life instead, I'd have said no because I'm not planning any romantic attachments until I'm in Game, but I'd have been tempted." Hawk looked ridiculously pleased. "I expect you're just being nice, but thanks anyway." "I'm not just being nice. If you were truly Michael, I'd happily agree to meet up with you once I was in Game, have a few dates and see if that turned into a relationship between us. The problem is that you're Hawk." "Stop right there." Hawk sat up and stared at me. "You mean you don't have a problem with me being Michael, you have a problem with me being Hawk? But why? I had the impression you admired Hawk." I groaned. "I did. I mean, I do. The way I gushed about you being my all time hero when we first met must have made that perfectly obvious. I had a crush on you, had your picture on my wall, had fantasies about you stepping out of the picture and ..." I waved my hands. "That was fine when it was just a fantasy, but there are big problems when it comes to getting involved with you in reality. You're a legendary Founder Player, while I haven't even entered Game yet. Even when I do enter Game, I'll be wearing the bronze bracelet of a player in their first year, and you'll be wearing diamond. There's also the key detail that you're four hundred years older than me." "Rubbish," said Hawk. "I can't be more than a few weeks older than you." I sighed. "I meant that you were four hundred years older than me chronologically and emotionally, not physically." "But that isn't really true. Time spent in Game doesn't touch you the way that real life does. You ..." Hawk broke off his sentence because the voice of surveillance was speaking again. "Can you turn our eyes and ears back on please? Tomath's message on his personal diary has been removed and replaced with instructions to contact you with a location and time." Hawk grabbed his phone again and clicked the button. "Surveillance, did you get any more information this time?" "Nothing except that the access was done by the same automated process as before," said surveillance. "The bomber clearly wants to take control of this situation by sending us to a place of their own choosing," said Hawk. I had about five seconds to feel sorry for whoever had worked to make every detail of this room so convincing when the bomber would never see it, then my phone buzzed for an incoming call. Hawk nodded at me and I answered the call. Tomath's face appeared on my phone screen. He gave me a resentful look. "You've got thirty minutes to get to the meeting point." He gabbled a string of numbers before ending the call. "That location is a new dormitory that will be opening next week," said surveillance. "You've barely got time to reach it using a standard pod, but you could save time by using the high-speed carriage." "If we're being sent to this location," said Hawk, "we have to assume the bomber already has spy eyes there, and could be watching the nearest transport stops too. We can't risk being seen stepping out of a luxury carriage." He paused for a moment. "You'd better move the carriage to somewhere close by in case we need it urgently, but Jex and I will do our travelling in a standard pod. Make sure there aren't any Unilaw droids anywhere near the meeting point. I'll try to plant a few spy eyes when I get there, but if I can't then you'll have to wait for us to call you with an update." "Understood," said surveillance. Hawk and I hurried out of the door, and started running to the nearest transport stop. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Thirteen –––––––– Hawk followed me into a two-person pod, and sat opposite me. He clutched the arms of his seat nervously as it started accelerating. "I feel a lot more vulnerable now that I'm back in a human body. Why don't these things have seat safety restraints in case of an accident?" "Standard pods don't go very fast," I said. He sniffed the air. "It smells as if someone has been sick in here recently." I glanced at a suspicious stain on the floor. "I think someone has." Hawk sighed and clicked the button on his phone. "We can continue our earlier conversation now, though this is the least romantic setting I've ever seen. As I was trying to say, the four hundred year chronological difference between us doesn't matter." "It matters to me," I said. "So does the vast list of girls you've dated during those four hundred years." He laughed, and although he looked like a skinny kid, his laughter was pure Hawk. "Would you like to know the truth about me and my past relationships with girls?" "Yah. No." I waved my hands indecisively. "I know you must have had thousands of relationships in Game, but I don't want to listen to all the gory details. I should though, because hearing it will be good for me, make it absolutely clear that ... Yah, tell me about them." "Thousands of relationships! Me? You're going to be surprised." Hawk was frowning now. "Being here with you, in my old physical body, is amazing. The past is alive again. I'm the real me, Michael, talking to a girl, but she's listening this time instead of ridiculing me. She actually prefers Michael to Hawk the Unvanquished. I can be myself, be open and frank about everything. It's been such a very, very long time since I could do that with anyone." "Surely you can be yourself with the other Founder Players." He smiled. "Oh yes, my relationship with other members of the family is very different, but it's also very complicated. Life on Celestius is nothing like the rest of Game. The family established their own rules during the first ten years. There are eight hundred and fifty male Founder Players, and only seventy-nine female, so Michael never stood a chance with any of the women. As for the men ... It's not just that there's a lot of long running rivalries, the Founder Players are a strange group of people." I blinked. "After four hundred years in Game, I suppose ..." "No, no. We were a weird bunch to start with." Hawk's words were spilling out eagerly now, as if they'd been pent up inside him for centuries. "When I was a kid, I played games, but those games were like ... Well, with some you saw your character on a screen, and made it move around. With others, it was a bit like controlling a droid from Game, but far more primitive." He gave a reminiscent smile. "They weren't bad in their way, but then the Game started, and comparing that to old style games was like comparing the sun to the light of a single candle. The Game Company froze your body and took your consciousness into the world of the Game. You weren't a spectator any longer, but genuinely part of events. Obviously there was only one Game world back then." I tried to imagine Game without the multitude of worlds like Ganymede, Avalon, Coral, and Starlight. "People were scared to try it," said Hawk. "There were a host of horror stories about what could go wrong. Experts warned of possible tissue damage in freezer units, or data corruption scrambling your brains." "We studied this in school," I said. "The Founder Players were the brave heroes who led the way and made the Game possible." Hawk laughed. "Brave heroes. Hah! The truth is that we were a mixture of social misfits, people who were terminally ill, and obsessive gamers. If you couldn't cope with the real world, or if you were dying, or if you couldn't resist the lure of a game that was far more advanced than any other. Those were the ones who entered the Game. Those were your Founder Players." I didn't know what to say. Everyone knew that some of the Founder Players were a little eccentric, but their illustrious rank entitled them to behave however they wished. "I belonged to two out of those three categories," said Hawk. "I was an obsessive gamer who had problems coping with real life people. My parents kept saying I should get out more." He sighed. "I did try that at one point. I gave up my games, joined the real world, even had a girlfriend for three weeks, but then she dumped me in the most appalling way possible. She was the one who said I had the sex appeal of a decomposing slug, but let's give a merciful burial to the rest of the awful details." He paused. "Funny how much it still hurts remembering what happened back then. I took refuge in my gaming again, and tried to forget that Susanna had ever existed." I listened, fascinated and unbelieving, trying to fit the boy he was describing together with the legendary Hawk and the competent Michael to make an understandable whole. "Then the Game Company started advertising for people to sign up and play the trial period of the Game," said Hawk. "They'd made a huge investment and were desperate to prove the horror stories weren't true and the Game was safe. They were offering the chance to play for every hour of every day, physically escaping reality, and they were offering it free! For someone like me, who'd dropped out of school, had no qualifications, no social skills, and no job, it was an irresistible offer." Hawk shook his head. "When I think of the way you had to start work at ten years old, and care for yourself ... I was so immature in comparison. I ignored my parents' objections and contacted the Game Company. They were hesitant because I was under eighteen, but all the candidates had to be flown to America and go through a month of physical and mental tests before entering the Game. That meant I'd just make the legal age limit in time, so they let me be one of the first one thousand players." I was puzzled. "But there are only nine hundred and twenty-nine Founder Players." "There were exactly a thousand of us to start with," said Hawk, "and just over a hundred reserve candidates on the waiting list. When the big day came, and we had to sign the documents and step into those freezer units, a lot of us changed their minds. The healthy ones with more to lose. The Game Company pulled in all the reserve candidates as well, but they still ended up well short of their target of a thousand players for the trial." Hawk pulled a face. "I had a last minute fit of nerves myself, but I was even more scared of the real world than I was of being frozen, so I ended up inside my freezer unit. At the start of Game, everything was chaotic, but then things gradually settled down. Once the ten year trial period was over, and their test subjects were shown to be still rational, or at least as rational as they were to start with, the Game got permission to open commercially. The Game Techs created four new Game worlds, Starlight, Camelot, Ariel, and Elven, and then we got masses of people joining Game." I nodded. "The ones who call themselves the First Wave." "That's right. The Game Techs realized the Founder Players would have trouble coping with all the new arrivals, so they revamped the original test world and gave it to us as Celestius. It was our refuge from the torrent of strangers entering the Game, a place where our incompetence at interacting with people, and our little ... peculiarities ... could be safely hidden from other players." He paused. "I think the uncomfortable feeling in my throat is because I'm thirsty. Is there anything to drink here?" "Sorry, this isn't a luxury carriage." Hawk sighed. "Well, that was when the myths started. The Founder Players had a special world of our own, we wore special diamond bracelets, so that meant we were special as well. When we ventured out into the other worlds, we found we had a mystique. People looked at us and didn't see the pathetic reality but the illustrious Founder Players of their imagination. Anything strange we did was instantly forgiven. I'd withdrawn from the whole issue of relationships until then, I was just one of a whole mob of rejected excess men on Celestius, but on the other worlds ..." Hawk grinned. "I was a legend, and the girls didn't laugh at a legend." I forced myself to grin as well, though I knew where this was going and I didn't like it. "You just had to smile and they threw themselves at you?" He gave a rueful laugh. "Something like that. I'd no idea how to cope with it, so I ran away to spend the next few years hiding on Celestius. By then the major problem with Game was becoming horribly clear. It hadn't been detected during the trial, because any issues were blamed on the unusual nature of the test subjects, but the mass entry to Game made it obvious." I frowned. "We weren't taught about any major problem in school. What was wrong, and how did the Game Techs fix it?" "They never found a way to fix it," said Hawk. "You know that people who enter Game as children never develop into proper adulthood?" "Yah. Everyone knows that you can't progress through adolescence without a real body." "Well, the Game Company keeps it as quiet as possible, but the adolescence issue is part of a much wider problem. When you enter Game, your body is frozen and kept unchanged, but so is your mind. Your consciousness experiences events in Game, just as you would in the real world, but they don't affect you in the same way. What would change and mature you in the real world, leaves your core characteristics untouched in Game. You can learn new things, you can make new friends and enemies, but your personality stays the same. Kind, spiteful, wise or foolish. Whatever you are when you enter Game, you're stuck with it." I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to understand what he was saying. "This is because you don't have a real body?" "I think it's partly that," said Hawk, "and partly that Game stores the basic parameters of your personality. Whatever happens in Game, however much you try to change yourself, you can't. It's like pulling at a piece of elastic. It stretches for a moment, and you think you're getting somewhere, but then it snaps back to its original length." I shook my head. "Why doesn't anyone talk about this?" "As I said, the Game Company tries to keep it quiet, and for many people it isn't really a problem. After everything you've had to cope with in the real world, Jex, you've done your growing up, so this issue shouldn't trouble you very much." "Is this why my mother keeps avoiding unpleasant things?" I asked. "That was her way of dealing with them when she entered Game, so it's impossible for her to change?" "Probably. As I said, most people aren't affected much. It's been a huge issue for me though, because I entered Game with a lot of problems. Once I understood I could never change while I stayed in Game, I considered leaving to give myself a chance to grow up properly." He waved his hands. "The problem was that my parents had been killed in an accident during the trial period of Game, and I couldn't face going back to the real world without them. I delayed, and delayed, and every year that passed made it more difficult to think of leaving Game. Finally, I accepted I would never leave. I was forever frozen in time as the socially inept Michael." "But you aren't socially inept," I said. "I was awed by the way you dealt with your admiring fans." "That wasn't Michael dealing with them though. When I accepted I could never leave Game, could never change who I was, I came up with my alternative solution. I started acting the part of Hawk the Unvanquished. He was the hero the First Wave newcomers wanted me to be. He was the hero I wanted me to be." He shrugged. "So I adopted my Hawk persona, left Celestius to explore the four new worlds of Game, and went through what the family still refer to as Michael's girl phase. There weren't thousands of them, more like twenty. Only Tasha went anywhere near counting as a relationship though. I thought she genuinely cared for me and I was part of a real couple at last, but she kept trying to talk me into taking her to Celestius." "But only the Founder Players can enter Celestius," I said. "At first, we were allowed to take our partners there with us. I didn't want to take Tasha to Celestius though. She only knew me as Hawk the Unvanquished, and I was scared the other Founder Players would tell her about Michael and I'd lose her. We had a dozen arguments about it and eventually ..." This time there was a very long pause before Hawk spoke again. "Well, eventually it sunk into my stupid head that Tasha was only sleeping with me because she wanted to get to Celestius. We had a final huge argument, and she marched off and joined the girls waiting in line for a night in Caesar's castle. He had a constant string of girlfriends back then. Still does, for that matter." "I'm sorry," I said. "Some of the other Founder Players were having similar problems," said Hawk. "After a few years of having to step in to deal with the trouble it caused, the Game Techs stopped us taking partners to Celestius, but I was totally disillusioned about the girl thing long before that. Whenever I was with a girl, I was acting the part of the legendary Hawk, hiding the real Michael inside me. There's no way for me to explain how bad that felt. It wasn't just that I could never relax. I felt like a helpless passenger in my own body, watching an imaginary person live my life." He laughed bitterly. "The last straw was when my real life girlfriend showed up in Game. She'd totally changed her appearance, so I hadn't a clue this was the same Susanna until she told me, and then my Hawk act instantly fell apart. I was totally Michael again, remembering what had happened between us, and terrified she'd say those humiliating things again. I screamed for Game world transfer home to Celestius, and hid in my castle for weeks." He shuddered. "Obviously Susanna is still in Game. I have the Game Techs trained to warn me whenever she requests Game world transfer to a world that I'm visiting, so I can run away again." I blinked. "You're still scared of her after four centuries?" "I entered Game totally petrified of meeting Susanna again, so I'm still totally petrified. The Game Techs indulge my cowardice over Susanna. I'm one of their pets, you see. A Founder Player who attracts attention by doing heroic things in Game, rather than being a public embarrassment. Most of the time at least. I make a complete fool of myself now and then, but the Game Techs do their best to hush it up, and the player population seems to conspire to keep it quiet as well. I suppose people like having flawless, noble heroes, so they busily polish any dirty marks off the image of the legend." "Yah," I murmured. I could understand that. Hawk had always been one of my heroes. If anyone had tried to tell me something bad about him, I wouldn't have listened. Hawk sighed. "Myths seem to develop a life of their own. Anyway, I gave up entertaining adoring girl fans after meeting Susanna. I decided I was better off being alone and myself than constantly acting a part, and moved back to live on Celestius again. When I visited other worlds, I still played my role of Hawk the Unvanquished, but I trained myself to be distantly polite to admirers. I focused on the hunting and trying to beat every impossible challenge in Game. It's been fun on the whole. I've spent four hundred years as an immortal, legendary hero." He paused. "It's odd to think back on everything that's happened. My parents kept telling me to get out more, and they were killed in that stupid accident." He pulled a sad, wry face. "Maybe if they'd got out less, they'd have entered Game with the First Wave, and still be alive right now." I kept silent because I'd no idea what to say. "Some of the female Founder Players changed partner over the years, but they'd met the real Michael so they never looked at me. I never considered trying to have another relationship with a girl until I recruited you and Nathan to help me." Hawk smiled. "Once you'd got over the initial shock of meeting me, we started having proper conversations. I risked telling you about my childhood, the problems I'd had with bullies, and how I'd started hiding in my bedroom and playing computer games. You didn't laugh at me. You talked about the time you'd spent living in dormitories, and how wonderful it was to finally have your own room and feel safe. I felt you understood exactly how I'd felt as a boy, and why I acted the way I did. I started wondering if I'd finally met a girl who could accept me for who I really was." Hawk took a deep breath. "When I decided to defrost for a few days to chase the bomber, I realized I had the chance to meet you as Michael. I knew I'd probably just get rejected again, but I also knew I'd never get another chance like this. If I met a girl in Game, and suggested we both defrost so they could meet Michael, they'd know who he was and be studying him, judging him, comparing him unfavourably to the Game Hawk." He leaned forward to study me intently. "You were different, Jex, already in real life so I could meet you as a random stranger. I wasn't expecting you to work out who I was. I certainly wasn't expecting you to accept Michael but reject Hawk. There has to be a way to get past that and convince you it's worth us getting to know each other better. There is no four century gap. There is no Hawk. There's just an insecure, eighteen-year-old boy that's been frozen in time." I shook my head in bewilderment. "You seemed very competent fighting Tomath." "I find fighting easier than socializing," said Hawk. "You saw Michael's inept attempt at flirting with you. There are other things that I struggle with too. When you've seen more of me, you'll understand what I mean." "Even if I ignore the legendary Hawk and the four century age gap, you're still a Founder Player and I'm nobody. You live on Celestius and I can't even go there." "Once you enter Game, I'd be happy to visit Ganymede or any other world you choose," said Hawk. "If things worked out between us, I could move there permanently. Several of the other male Founder Players live outside Celestius with their partners." "I've heard all about those relationships," I said. "The Game gossip reporters study them relentlessly, looking for signs the Founder Player is getting bored." "Some of the relationships have worked extremely well for a very long time," said Hawk. "But the vast majority don't," I said flatly. "The pressure gets too much and things end in a messy break up. The man either goes back to Celestius after that or gets a new partner. In the case of Merlin, four new partners." "Merlin's trying to show the whole of Game he doesn't care about breaking up with Stella," said Hawk. "He's doing his best to make it look as if he dumped her, when she was the one who dumped him and he's devastated about it. Anyway, this isn't about Merlin and Stella, it's about us. I've always wanted a proper relationship with someone who knows and understands the real me. I think you could be that person, and we can take things as quickly or slowly as you like." He paused. "At least think about it. Tell me what you see as the problems, and we can work out how to avoid them." I sighed. "There is only one problem, and there's no way to avoid it. I'm not getting involved in a relationship with anyone unless I'm an equal partner. Even if people in Game are unchanging, frozen in time, I ..." I broke off my sentence. "Moment." I buried my face in my hands for a full minute, desperately chasing a train of thought, and then looked up at Hawk again. "I remember saying exactly the same thing – that I didn't want to be in a relationship unless I was an equal partner – to Nathan. He'd warned me not to get involved with you because ..." "He warned you not to get involved with me!" Hawk almost yelled the words. "When Nathan gets into Game, I'm going to kill him!" "You can't kill Nathan for three reasons. Firstly, it's wrong to kill people. Secondly, you'll get into trouble. Thirdly, if you're right about Nathan becoming a Game Tech not a player, you'll never have the chance to attack him." "Point." Hawk frowned in frustration then brightened up again. "When we've finished this job, I can go over to the United Law facility and beat Nathan up in real life." "Oh yah," I said, with heavy sarcasm. "The middle of a United Law facility is the ideal place to try beating someone up." Hawk's frown returned. "I'm beginning to see what you mean about Michael having a few problems with social interactions," I said. "The only reason Nathan warned me not to get involved with you, was because he thought you wouldn't be interested in me. Nathan has a protective and caring nature, and was worried I'd get hurt." "Oh." Hawk seemed to calm down a little, but still had a petulant look on his face. "Maybe I won't actually hit Nathan then, just tell him to mind his own business." "I've already told Nathan to mind his own business. There are times when his caring nature crosses the line into nosiness." I hurried on with my explanation. "My point is that all candidates applying to be Game Techs go through a screening programme. The Game Techs keep the details of that screening secret, but Nathan told us that he scored very highly on the technical aptitude test, and the personality assessment test rated him extremely suitable. Doesn't it make sense that the screening programme is carefully choosing quiet, protective, caring people like Nathan to be Game Techs? People who'll be benevolent, self-effacing guardians of the Game and its players?" Hawk nodded. "It does, but if that's the case then our rogue Game Tech must have changed drastically over the years to turn into a destructive bomber." "You've just been telling me that people's fundamental personalities can't change when they're within Game." "Yes, our bomber must have spent a very long time outside Game to have changed that much. We should get Nathan to check for Game Techs who've spent many years outside Game. Leaving Game must be very unusual behaviour for them, so we might be able to narrow our list of suspects down to ..." "Or there's the other answer," I cut in. "The bomber's personality hasn't changed at all. He never had a caring and protective nature, because he was recruited as a Game Tech before the screening programme started. You described the early days in Game, how different the test world and the players were back then. What about the Game Techs?" Hawk stared at me, his eyes wide with shock. "You're right. The original Game Techs weren't chosen for anything other than their technical ability with computers." He scrabbled in his pocket for his phone, and urgently tapped at it. I heard Nathan's voice speaking. He sounded confused. "I think you've called the wrong person." "No, I haven't," said Hawk. "I thought you'd been told about me defrosting." "You're Hawk?" Nathan's voice rose in surprise. "Yah, I've just been told about that, but I was expecting you to look a bit more ... a bit better dressed." Hawk sighed. "Let's skip past the whole disappointing Michael discussion. Can you vouch for me, Jex?" Hawk propped his phone on the windowsill where we could both see it, and I waved at the tiny image of Nathan. "He really is Hawk." "Sorry," said Nathan. "It was silly of me to expect ..." Hawk didn't let him finish the sentence. "Nathan, do you have access to any information on the early history of Game?" "The Game Techs seem to have given me access to all their technical information and the whole history of Game," said Nathan. "It's incredible. Frightening too, because it shows just how worried they are about this situation. They're trusting us because they can't trust each other." "I need you to check some historical details," said Hawk. "During the ten year trial period, only the players lived inside Game. Once the trial period finished, and Game opened to the public, all the Game Techs entered Game as well. That was the point where the Game Company brought in all the regulations about Game Techs staying discreetly in the background. When did they add the psychological test to the Game Tech recruitment process?" "Moment." There was a pause before Nathan started speaking again. "Both things happened at the same time. When the Game opened to the public, the Game Company needed a lot more Game Techs to deal with the rush of players. The new Game Techs were selected for a combination of technical ability and psychological suitability for the work." "Has the nature of the psychological test changed much over the centuries?" asked Hawk. "There've been a lot of minor adjustments, but the test is still aimed at recruiting the same type of personality." Nathan hesitated. "You don't look very happy to hear that. Is it bad news?" "It's very bad news," said Hawk, in a grim voice. "It means that our bomber isn't just a senior Game Tech, but one of the original designers of the Game!" | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Fourteen –––––––– "We can't tell anyone that we suspect the bomber is one of the original Game designers," said Hawk. "The bomber must have an immensely powerful position among the Game Techs. He or she will definitely be able to access the reports from the Game investigation, and possibly even those of the Unilaw investigation as well." Nathan nodded, his face showing he was still suffering from shock. "We don't know how the Game Techs would react to an accusation against one of their original Game designers either," I said. "They might hero worship them in the same way that all the players hero worship the Founder Players, and refuse to believe that one of them could be involved in the bombing." "That's true," said Hawk. "The Game Techs might be less willing to help us if we start making accusations against their heroes. Nathan, do you have any information on the original Game designers?" "All the details about them will be held on the Game personnel system," said Nathan. "I don't have access to that. I could request it, but ..." "You'd better not risk it," said Hawk. "We have to assume the bomber is monitoring all your requests to the Game investigation." "I do remember one mention of the original Game designers though," said Nathan. "I skimmed through a whole mass of information about Avalon, including a bit about the design history. Avalon was the first Game world that the new wave of Game Techs created without any help from the original Game designers." "And that must be why Avalon was attacked," said Hawk. "The bomber resented new people creating Game worlds enough to still hold a grudge against Avalon centuries later." He paused. "Do you have any idea how many original Game designers there were, Nathan? Since they were outside Game during the trial period, we just heard disembodied voices talking to us. I don't remember more than a dozen of them, but there would have been a lot more working on the purely technical side of Game. Possibly as many as a couple of hundred." "There must be a mention of the team sizes in the Game history." It was a minute before Nathan spoke again. "I'm afraid you're underestimating the numbers. There were just over twelve hundred Game Techs back then. They had to create the basic Game before the ten year trial even began, then they were busy working on enhancements and designing new worlds ready for the Game to open to the public." Hawk groaned. "We can't ask the Game Techs to lock up twelve hundred original Game designers. Jex and I have to go now, Nathan." "Be careful," said Nathan anxiously. Hawk ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket. I was sitting in silence, thinking through exactly how dangerous one of the original designers of the Game could be, when Hawk started talking again. "Jex, I told you what the Founder Players were really like behind all the myths, but there was a detail I didn't mention. Game Techs keep it hushed up, and the family never talk about it to outsiders. We've been together a long time, we don't always like each other, but there's loyalty involved. Anyway, it turns out to be very relevant, so I need to tell you." He hesitated. "This is surprisingly difficult to say. A couple of Founder Players had even bigger issues than me when they entered Game. Within the first few months, it was clear they were a danger to others." "They were bullies?" "This went well beyond bullying. Marcus can be charming sometimes, but has no empathy and isn't limited by feelings of guilt. He seems to regard other people as toys for his amusement. Chiron is less of a problem. He's aware that he's not in control of his own actions, and that confuses and distresses him, so he's eager to be prevented from accidentally harming anyone." Hawk grimaced. "Once the situation became clear, the family took appropriate measures to keep ourselves safe. We had the situation under control during the ten year trial, but then the Game opened to the public and a whole mob of new players arrived. That didn't cause any difficulties with Chiron, because he'd voluntarily agreed years earlier that he wouldn't leave his castle let alone Celestius. Marcus moved to live on Camelot though, and the First Wave's adoration of Founder Players gave him new opportunities." I frowned. "Opportunities to do what?" "Killing people in Game wasn't as bad as it would be in the real world – Game deaths are painful but not permanent, and weirdly enough a couple of the girls seemed quite flattered – but it obviously had to be stopped. So it's kept very quiet, but we have two Founder Players who spend most of their time under house arrest in their castles on Celestius." I remembered something. "Back when we thought the bomber was a maintenance worker, and were discussing possible motives for crashing Avalon, you said that the bomber might enjoy killing random people. You talked about people you'd met in the Battle Arena, and said a sentence in a very strange voice. 'Killing someone in real life, knowing they'd died a permanent death, would be far more satisfying.' Were you actually quoting one of those two Founder Players?" "Yes," said Hawk. "I'd met a few people in the Battle Arena who said similar things, but I was on Celestius when I heard those particular words. It was Marcus who said them, and his tone of voice when he said the word 'satisfying' stuck in my mind as especially unpleasant." He paused. "My theory is the bomber is an original designer of Game with similar tendencies to Marcus. We'll need to attract his interest and keep him talking long enough for Unilaw to track his identity. The best way to do that is ..." Hawk let his words trail off because the pod had started slowing down. I hastily broke in to complete what he was saying. "The best way is to act the part of someone like the bomber. You'll have to do that, because I'd have no idea what to say." "Yes, I'll act the part of Marcus. You play my obedient, terrified girlfriend. I just hope the core Unilaw investigation team have followed my instructions about keeping the fact I've defrosted from Game totally secret, not even mentioning it in their own internal reports. If the bomber has found out that I've defrosted, then Tomath being blackmailed will seem a very suspicious coincidence." I moistened my lips. "You mean that we could be walking straight into a trap?" Hawk nodded grimly. The pod had stopped now and the door was opening. Hawk tapped at his phone, slid it back into his pocket, and we both stood up and stepped outside. The bomber could be watching us now, listening to every word we said. I couldn't help looking around the platform for spy eyes, though there was no chance of me seeing the microscopic things. "We have to go through these doors and take the first corridor on the left," said Hawk. He strode off rapidly, with me chasing after him. We made the left turn, and I saw heavy double doors with a sign saying "Male Dormitory 87166". The doors were newly painted in the standard yellow used by all dormitories, and awoke grim memories of my childhood. Every time I came back from school, I'd been scared of what would be waiting for me inside my dormitory. I was scared of what would be waiting for us inside this dormitory too. We could be about to meet the bomber or at least his controlled droid. As I followed Hawk up to the doors I felt a tense, sick feeling of apprehension. When I entered Game, I'd probably be stuck with an unshakeable phobia of yellow double doors. Hawk led the way inside. I looked round nervously for droids, but the long room was empty except for the familiar, regimented lines of bunk beds and storage cupboards. Fifty beds against each side wall. One hundred of them in total. The ones nearest the doors would be taken by the bullies, so you had to walk past them every time you entered or left the dormitory. I shook my head, telling myself that this wasn't my dormitory. I didn't live here. In fact, nobody lived here yet. This dormitory was yet to open, yet to be allocated the adult supervisor who might watch closely to make sure it was a safe and friendly place, or lazily do nothing while a reign of terror was imposed. I saw Hawk was staring at the beds, and gave him a warning look as he opened his mouth. The bomber would have spy eyes and ears watching us now, and the wrong comment would show Hawk had never seen a dormitory before. He caught my expression, and hesitated before speaking. "No one here yet. I ..." There was a loud buzzing, and then a recorded announcement came from overhead speakers. "Attention children, your dormitory supervisor is about to address you from Game." It was the same words, spoken by the same recorded female voice, that I remembered from my childhood. I instinctively moved to stand by the nearest bed, and turned to face the end wall in the approved respectful attitude. Arms at my side, back rigidly straight, and head slightly bowed. Hawk gave me a single startled glance, before moving to stand by another bed and copy my posture. I thought a face would appear on the end wall – irrationally I half expected it to be the centaur face of the dormitory supervisor from my childhood – but instead the wall changed to pure black. Our caller had disabled vision from his end. That meant the bomber could see us, but we couldn't see him. "Why should I help you?" The male voice came from the end wall, and was magnified round the room. The perfectly emotionless, silky smooth tones had to mean that a specialized computer process was being used to hide the speaker's true voice, but I thought the original voice was male too. "Because we would serve you in return," said Hawk. A long pause. "I have Tomath to serve me." Hawk smiled. "Tomath is weak. He didn't know he was planting bombs. Now he's found that out, and he's terrified." "You wouldn't be terrified?" "I'd be exhilarated." Hawk's smile widened. "Just imagine all those people waking up in their freezer units. How they must have screamed in terror. How they'd fight to escape. How some of them died of fear." There was a long silence. "I want to serve you," said Hawk. There was still no response. I wondered if our rogue Game Tech had gone and we'd lost our only link to him. "I want the honour of serving you," said Hawk. The voice finally spoke again. "And the girl?" Hawk turned to look at me with a face and eyes that were cold as ice. "The girl does what I tell her to do. The girl thinks what I tell her to think. Don't you, Emma?" I knew he was just acting the part of a killer, but he was so convincing that my voice shook as I replied. "Yah, Michael." Hawk walked across to me and grabbed a handful of my hair. "You do what I tell you to do. Say it, Emma!" "I ..." He twisted my hair. It didn't hurt much, but it shocked me enough that I yelled anyway. "I do what you tell me to do," I gabbled. "You think what I tell you to think." He twisted my hair again, and the pain triggered an old memory. I was six years old again, I'd tried to protect a friend, and the bullies had turned on me. Where were those older girls now? Had they taken their bullying personalities with them into Game, or had they changed into kinder people in the years between ten and eighteen years old? There was another, harder yank at my hair. I fought away my old memories, and repeated Hawk's words. "I think what you tell me to think." "That's good, Emma." Hawk's face came close to me, so I could feel his breath against my cheek. "That's very good." He let me go, and I hugged my arms defensively round myself. "I'll do whatever you say, Michael. I promise." Hawk turned to smile at the black area of wall. "I want the honour of being your apprentice. I want to follow in your footsteps and learn from the master." "If I take an apprentice," said the voice, "he must sacrifice everything else to my service. Do you understand?" Despite the efforts to hide the speaker's true voice, I caught an overtone to the word "sacrifice" that chilled me. There was a pause before Hawk answered. "I understand, master." The blackness on the wall flickered, and a figure was displayed. It wore a featureless cloak, and the face was a skull shrouded in shadows. "I am the Reaper. The worlds of Game will honour and serve me or be destroyed." The wall changed to black again, and then two sets of numbers appeared. A location and a time. I tried to memorize them before they vanished and the call ended, but my brain didn't seem to be working properly. It didn't matter. Surveillance would have been monitoring and recording the call. Hawk turned and stalked out of the double doors. I scurried after him, eager to leave a place where new dark memories had been added to the ones from my childhood. Neither of us spoke until we'd summoned a two-person pod, grubbier but less smelly than the previous one, got inside, and started it moving. Hawk took out his phone, and tapped at it. "Surveillance, the bomber's call was definitely made in person rather than by an automated process. Did you have time to trace it and get an identity?" "The call originated from Game, and we obtained an identity number for the caller," replied the female voice of surveillance, "but unfortunately there's a problem." "What problem?" demanded Hawk impatiently. "We checked the identity number against our Unilaw records, and it belongs to someone who has not yet entered Game." "You're sure about that?" I asked. "Perfectly sure," said surveillance. "The identity number belongs to a seven-year-old child who was in real life school when the call was made. We've dispatched officers to arrest the boy anyway, but ..." "I'd strongly prefer you not to arrest the seven-year-old," said Hawk, in a strained voice. "If you wish, we can recall the officers," said surveillance. "I do wish that." Hawk stabbed his phone with his finger to end the call, and turned to me. "I can't believe that Unilaw were going to arrest a seven-year-old child. You were right not to trust their judgement on Tomath, because ..." Hawk suddenly abandoned his sentence and started counting. "One, two, three ..." He reached ten, and I was prepared for him to start swearing, but instead he swung round and hammered a fist against the pod wall. I guessed that this time mere words weren't enough to relieve his pent up stress. "Our bomber is one of the original Game designers," said Hawk. "He knows how to fake an identity number on a call from Game. He must know hundreds of other ways to dodge security checks as well. We can't assume the server complex force field codes are safe from someone like that. He'll find a way to get the codes and crash more Game worlds." Hawk turned to face me, the movement bringing him closer to me. My nerves were still jangling, so I instinctively flinched back into my seat. He frowned. "Are you all right, Jex? I didn't hurt you back in that dormitory, did I?" "No, I'm just a little wound up by the act back there." "You were really convincing as a terrified girl." I didn't want to admit that was because I'd been genuinely terrified, both of the situation and Hawk's behaviour. Four hundred years of playing the role of a Game legend had made him a great actor. Hawk groaned. "You did brilliantly, but I made a total mess of talking to the bomber. My whole approach to him was wrong. The bomber isn't another Marcus. He may lack empathy and guilt, but he isn't driven by a desire to cause random death and destruction." I was still having trouble thinking. I tried to break free from the lingering effects of fear and force my brain into action. "The bomber called himself the Reaper. That sounds pretty death and destruction obsessed." "Yes, but he didn't respond to me talking about the exhilaration of killing people. I'd lost his interest until I stumbled on the word honour. That was when he started talking to me again, and his last words told us exactly why he bombed the Avalon server complex." I quoted the bomber's final sentence. "'The worlds of Game will honour and serve me or be destroyed.'" Hawk leaned back in his seat. "I should have realized that the bomber couldn't have the same problems as Marcus. It wouldn't be possible for a Game Tech to keep a fascination with death and destruction hidden for four centuries, and appropriate action would have been taken to deal with him." He ran his fingers through his overlong black hair. "The bomber is driven by something entirely different, a massive ego and a desire for power and glory. He wouldn't need to hide that from anyone. The whole population of Game accepts the fact we've got several overblown egos among the Founder Players, so I can imagine the other Game Techs would feel an original designer of Game had a perfect right to be a little egotistical." I thought that through for a moment. "I think you're right about the bomber wanting power. That's why he brought us to a dormitory to talk to us. He was aiming to bring back echoes of when we were small children living in dormitories, and the all-powerful adult supervisor would address us from Game. I suppose you'll have been immune to that because Michael never lived in a dormitory, but it worked brilliantly on me." "I'm right about the glory too. The bomber was one of the original designers of Game. When it opened commercially, he would have expected a lot of public recognition, but the Game Company brought in regulations that said he had to stay anonymous. For four long centuries, the bomber has been robbed of all the honour and glory for his achievements." "He'd be admired by other Game Techs." "Oh yes." Hawk waved a hand in dismissal. "The other people skulking in the background of Game would admire him, but the vast player population never even knew he existed. The bomber doesn't want to cause death and destruction for its own sake. It's just a way to punish the players for ignoring his achievements." He paused. "I think the bomber is calling himself the Reaper because he designed the original Game worlds, sowed the seeds that grew into the vast Game universe of today, and now he's going to reap his harvest." "Why would he wait four centuries to do this?" Hawk shrugged. "I don't know. Something must have happened to make him particularly angry. Whatever that was, the Reaper has started his bid for power and glory, and he isn't going to stop. I expect he'll crash at least one more Game world to demonstrate that none of our precautions work against him. After that, he'll speak to the whole population of Game in the same way that he spoke to us in that dormitory. They have to honour and serve him, or he'll wreak havoc across the worlds of Game." I opened my mouth to ask why the Reaper would want billions of people quaking in fear of him, but closed it again. The bullies who'd ruled my childhood dormitory had enjoyed terrorizing smaller girls. The Reaper was just aiming to do the same thing on a vastly bigger scale. Hawk's voice took on a note of despair. "And there's nothing we can do to stop him. Surveillance will watch the meeting point the Reaper gave us, they may ambush his controlled droid, but I'm sure the Reaper will be able to fake his identity number when he controls a droid from Game. We'll be left with no clue to his real identity except that he has an inflated idea of his own importance, and I expect a lot of the original Game designers have ego problems." I was bewildered. "Aren't we going to meet the Reaper ourselves? I thought you were trying to be recruited as his apprentice." "That was my plan, but I can't go through with it now," said Hawk. "You heard what the Reaper said. His apprentice has to sacrifice everything to his service. It's perfectly obvious what he meant. My stupid act practically offered you up as a victim. The Reaper wants me to take you to the meeting point, so he can prove his power over me by making me kill you." I hadn't realized that. No, I had realized it, but part of me had been frantically blanking out the knowledge. That was why I'd been finding it so hard to think since the Reaper said the word 'sacrifice'. My brain had shut down in self defence, because once I started thinking, once I accepted that we had to do whatever the Reaper demanded if we were to have any chance of catching him, there was only one thing I could say. I took a deep breath. "We have to catch the Reaper, Hawk. We have to do whatever it takes to achieve that. It's just a matter of statistics. Over eleven thousand people died in the Avalon world crash. If the Reaper crashes another world, then thousands more will die. I'm just one person so ..." I thought my voice sounded unnaturally calm about it. Part of my head was unnaturally calm as well; the part that was telling itself this wasn't real, just a bad dream. Another part of my head wasn't calm at all. It was screaming that it didn't want to die a heroic, self sacrificing death. Hawk rubbed his forehead. "I'm not murdering you, Jex. I've committed my fair share of sins, but I'm not going to kill anyone, and especially not you. I fought for years in the Battle Arena on Medieval, and when I accepted my prizes I was covered in the blood of my opponents, but the deaths and the blood weren't real. Killing you would ... Moment!" I knew we'd both had exactly the same thought. We didn't need me to die. We just needed to convince the Reaper that Hawk had killed me. Hawk grabbed for his phone again. "Surveillance, we have to stage a fake murder for the Reaper. We've a very long way to go and barely two hours to get there. We'll transfer to the long-distance carriage to gain time, and somewhere along the way you have to help us set things up so Jex can look convincingly dead. I've no idea how we do that, but ..." I snatched the phone from Hawk's hand and spoke rapidly into it myself. "The glitz crowd hold fancy dress competitions where the entrants dress up as people from Game and re-enact Game events. A year ago, a group led by a medical cadet called Falcon Rodriguez won the England area championship. They staged a re-enactment of Hawk's last fight in the Battle Arena, using fake blood, trick knives, and holo effects." I paused to breathe. "I'll contact Falcon Rodriguez and get him to meet us at the medical cadet accommodation transport stop. I'll tell him to bring all his equipment for faking injuries, because I need his help to stage a murder to ..." I broke off for a second. It wouldn't be a good idea to tell Falcon we were trying to catch the Avalon bomber, because he was notoriously bad at keeping secrets. "Well, I'll have to think of a good reason why I'm faking my own murder." | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Fifteen –––––––– We were back in our familiar luxury carriage. In one of the seats sat a golden droid. That had been Hawk's alter ego, and now Hawk was the skinny, dark haired boy sitting facing me. There was something disturbingly surreal about seeing the pair of them together. It was even more surreal to have Falcon Rodriguez here with us. Falcon didn't seem to have changed at all since the last time I'd seen him. I'd told him a paper-thin story about a plan to make my old instructor confess to altering my grades. Fortunately, Falcon hadn't paid any attention to my reasons for faking my own murder, focussing in on what, for him, was the only important point. We were about to put on a performance, and any performance organized by Falcon Rodriguez had to be absolutely perfect. Falcon smoothed a final dab of makeup over the fake skin on my neck, stepped back, studied the result, and nodded. "Done." "It itches," I complained, moving my right hand towards my neck. Falcon slapped my hand away. "Don't scratch the fake skin or you'll disturb the blood packs underneath, and you ..." He turned to point at Hawk. "I want a proper knife flourish from you when you cut Jex's throat, not those pathetic slicing gestures that you were doing in rehearsal. Remember that when the trick knife cuts Jex's throat, releasing the fake blood to cover her in gore, it will also trigger the injection of the drug to knock her unconscious and slow her breathing. You should wait for two seconds to give the drug time to work, and then let her go so she slumps dramatically to the floor." "I'm still not sure that it's a good idea to inject Jex with that drug," said Hawk. The perfectionist Falcon waved a dismissive hand. "Jex said it was vital for her to be a convincing corpse." "Yah, but I don't want you making a mistake and turning her into a genuine corpse." "I never make mistakes," said Falcon. Hawk closed his eyes for a moment, before speaking in a strained voice. "If you've finished work, then we can drop you off at the next transport stop." "I'm staying to watch the performance," said Falcon. Hawk leaned across to adjust the carriage guidance system. "That isn't possible in this case." Falcon frowned. "You're just being difficult." "No, he isn't," I said. "Thank you for the help, Falcon. I'm very grateful, but this is one performance where you'll have to settle for watching the replays later." He gave me one of his wide range of sulky looks. "I'm not leaving." "If you stay, our instructor will recognize you, and that will ruin my whole plan to make her confess." He folded his arms. "The instructor will probably recognize you too. I told you that hair dye isn't much of a disguise. You should let me use flesh coloured wax to make your nose look a different shape." "My appearance is all part of my plan," I said. "You aren't, so you have to go." "But ..." I interrupted him. "Falcon, do you remember that you wanted me to play the Founder Player, Venus, in our Battle Arena event? Do you remember how I said I wanted to play a combat role instead? Do you remember how you twirled a sword around, said that girls were useless in fights, and I lost my temper?" Falcon was looking wary now. "Yah, Jex." "Do you want me to lose my temper now?" "No, Jex." I smiled. "Then you'll do what you're told, and leave quietly at the next transport stop. Please give my best wishes to everyone, particularly Gina. Tell them that I'm sorry I vanished a year ago, but I was in trouble and I didn't want to get them in trouble too. I hope it will be safe for me to get in touch with them soon." A couple of minutes later, Falcon carried his equipment cases out of the door. "Now don't forget to send me the replays, Jex." "I won't," I said. Hawk waited until the carriage was moving at express speed again, and then gave a heartfelt groan. "We should have told Falcon the truth about us trying to catch the Avalon bomber. If he knew I was Hawk the Unvanquished, then maybe he'd have believed me when I said no sensible fighter makes fancy flourishes with a knife when cutting someone's throat." My neck was itching unmercifully again. I gripped the arms of my seat to keep my hands safely still. "Whatever you told Falcon, it wouldn't have made the slightest difference. He has tunnel vision when it comes to public performances. We don't exist as people. We are mere actors carrying out his orders." "Are you sure we can trust Falcon's drug arrangement? I keep remembering that your instructor nearly gave someone an overdose." I sighed. "I hate to say this, but Falcon's right when he says he never makes mistakes. He wasn't just top of our class in medical training; he won a major medical scholarship, and was a far better doctor than our instructor. The maddening thing about it was that he never seemed to do any work." "I wish I could cut his throat instead of yours. What did you do to him when you lost your temper?" I grinned. "Falcon was holding a sword while he was sneering at me, so I grabbed another sword, attacked him, defeated him in a duel, and threatened to cut his ears off unless he gave me a combat role. That's why we ended up re-enacting both your semi-final and final fights in the Battle Arena." Hawk laughed. "How could you be friends with someone that dreadful?" "Falcon was always a bit single minded, but things didn't get really out of hand until he went along to a glitz crowd party when he was thirteen. He discovered their Game re-enactment events, and dragged a group of us into helping him stage an event himself. I've always pictured Falcon having a great future organizing festivals and events in Game." "If he does, then I'll make sure to avoid everything he organizes." Hawk tapped at the screen on the wall next to him, and the image of a Unilaw droid appeared. The face of the adult controlling it was a woman with startlingly bright blue eyebrows. "Surveillance, as before I'll try to plant some spy eyes when we get to our destination," said Hawk. "I'm sure the Reaper won't just call us this time. He'll come to meet us using a controlled droid. If we go through with acting out the staged murder, I'll hopefully leave with the Reaper's controlled droid, while Jex remains as the unconscious corpse." "Understood," said the woman. Hawk turned to look at me. "Jex, the Reaper may be watching the meeting point even after his droid leaves, so everything has to happen just as it would if you were really dead." He paused for a second. "Which would be what exactly?" "The medical chip in my arm would send an alarm signal saying I'd been killed," I said. "Medical would report my death, and then Unilaw controlled droids would respond and collect the body." Hawk nodded. "So Unilaw droids have to come and collect your body, after which they can ship you to the same facility as Nathan. They'd better have a medical team waiting there in case you need treating for after effects of the drug." "Michael would obviously be a suspect for his girlfriend's murder," I said. "Unilaw would be chasing after him, tracking his medical chip. I can see you've got a bar code on your left arm. Do you have a medical chip as well?" "Fortunately, yes," said Hawk. "We didn't have either of those things four hundred years ago, but the doctors gave me a bar code and injected a medical chip into my arm when I defrosted. Unilaw controlled droids should start hunting me just the way they would a real murderer." "Understood," repeated the woman. "But what if they catch you?" I asked anxiously. "I'm assuming the Reaper will have a way to prevent Unilaw from tracking my medical chip," said Hawk. "After all, he's been prepared for everything else so far." I hated the idea of Hawk heading off on his own under the orders of the Reaper, but I had to accept it. If I was supposed to be dead, then I couldn't go with him. "You must be careful." He smiled. "Don't worry. I won't be playing this part for long. The next thing the Reaper asks me to do will probably be far more drastic than just killing one girl, and then my act will fall apart. If we're lucky, we'll have the clues we need to catch him by then." I hoped we'd be lucky and catch the Reaper, but if we did then the hunt would be over, Hawk would go back into Game and I'd go back to my job in the body stacks. I felt a sharp stab of regret at the thought. Now Hawk had cleared my record, I'd enter Game myself a year from now. He'd suggested we could meet up then and ... I stopped and gave myself a mental slap. I'd made my decision, and told Hawk that I couldn't get involved with him. That was the right thing to do, the rational thing to do, and I mustn't start wavering about it now. For a few short hours, Hawk had been Michael, just another kid like me. We'd briefly been on equal terms, with no age gap and no power differential, but once we were in Game there'd be a huge gulf between us again. I'd be a clueless newcomer, while Hawk was a living legend. Hawk had finished talking to surveillance, and turned off the screen. Now he swivelled round in his chair to face me again. "It's strange really. The Game Techs keep watch over the players, and know everything about us. They create our worlds, police our behaviour, and record our triumphs and misdemeanours. Every Game Tech must know all about me, including every hideously embarrassing moment that I'd like to forget myself, but I know nothing about how they live. Game Techs appear to perform tasks with perfect, anonymous, professionalism, then vanish back to their own secret areas of Game." Hawk frowned. "Whatever goes on in their closed society, the original Game designers are likely to be hero worshipped and virtually untouchable. It won't be enough for us to identify the Reaper. We'll need to give the Game Techs absolute proof of his guilt." "Game Techs have bronze, silver, or gold insignia on their faces, depending on their status," I said. "Players have bracelets. Bronze for newcomers, silver for those still on annual subscriptions, gold for those who've paid lifetime subscriptions, and diamond for Founder Players." "You're thinking the original Game Techs might have diamond insignia?" I nodded. "I've never heard of anyone seeing a Game Tech with diamond insignia, but one of the original Game designers wouldn't be sent to run trivial errands for players." Hawk took out his phone and dumped it on an empty seat. "We'd better leave our phones here. If the Reaper's droid checked them, our whole background story would fall apart." I abandoned my phone too, and we sat in silence for the next couple of minutes. We'd be stopping soon, moving into an ordinary pod, and then meeting the Reaper and faking my death. These were the last few minutes of us being alone as two kids. "Michael," I said. He looked up, startled by the tense sound of my voice, and brushed the tangled black hair out of his eyes. I was probably burning bright red with embarrassment, especially with the fairer skin of my blonde disguise, but if I chickened out now then I'd always regret it. "We can't have a relationship in Game, it would never work, but I would like a kiss." He looked uncertain. "This isn't just charitable kindness to poor, unattractive Michael?" "No," I said. "I don't offer kisses unless I genuinely want to kiss someone. Of course, you have to want it too." He grinned and his dark eyes seemed to light up with excitement. "I do," he said. "I really do." We both stood up and moved towards each other. It was a clumsy kiss, but that somehow made it even more special. It told me that Michael wasn't hiding behind his Hawk persona, but kissing me as his real self. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Sixteen –––––––– The meeting point turned out to be a dusty, featureless room. Someone had lived here once, you could see the marks where the bed had been, and there was a scattering of beads in one corner from a broken necklace. Everything else was gone now. All the furnishings had been ripped out from the rooms in this corridor, ready for a refurbishment in a few months' time. Even the doors had been wrenched from some rooms. Ours still had one, but it was open, waiting for our visitor. I stood inside the room, arms hugging myself for reassurance, using the body language of a frightened girl. I wasn't acting; I was truly petrified at the idea of Falcon's drug knocking me out. I hated the idea of being unconscious in this situation, totally helpless, unable to defend myself or even run, but Falcon was right that it would make me seem far more authentically dead. If the Reaper decided to test me with a kick or an extra prod with the knife, there'd be no betraying cry or movement. Hawk was wandering restlessly round the room. "No instructions here. We wait." I knew that Hawk hadn't just been searching for instructions from the Reaper, but also planting some of the spy eyes he'd brought with him. The surveillance team would be watching us now, but if anything went wrong then they had no one in range to help us. It was too big a risk to have Unilaw controlled droids lurking around what should be a deserted area. "Michael," I appealed hesitantly. "I don't like this." He grabbed my arm, pulling me close, holding me his prisoner. "We wait! Understand me, Emma?" I gave a shaky nod. It shouldn't be long now, I thought. Travelling in the express long-distance carriage had gained us a lot of time, but we'd had to divert off our route to collect Falcon, so we'd arrived with barely five minutes to spare. There was a movement in the doorway. A droid was standing there, its markings showing it belonged to Game, but its bronze head had no facial display to show who was controlling it. I instinctively tried to back away, but Hawk tightened his hold on my arm, yanking me back and forcing me to stand still. He'd said how unfit his body had been when it was frozen, complained about his lack of muscles, but his grip was still bruising me. The droid approached us. I didn't dare to speak, and Hawk just bowed his head respectfully. "I am the Reaper," said the droid. Its voice wasn't computer generated, but it was being enhanced with deep, echoing tones that removed any hint of humanity. The droid began to circle us, like a hunter circling his prey. Hawk turned on the spot to keep facing it, dragging me round with him, and I gave a terrified squeak of protest. He covered my mouth with one hand to silence me, while the other kept hold of my arm. I had my eyes fixed on the droid. I couldn't see any weapons, but I was sure it would have at least one. A gun, or more likely a bomb, to dispose of us if we were judged useless. The Reaper was only controlling the droid, he wasn't physically present. He could blow up the droid and the two of us with it, and not be harmed himself. "Are you ready to pay the price for your apprenticeship?" asked the droid. "I'm ready, master," said Hawk. The droid was still circling us, and Hawk kept spinning me round to face it. I was feeling giddy from the motion when the droid finally stopped moving and Hawk stopped too. "It is time," said the droid. Hawk laughed, loosening his grip on me for a moment, and I caught a glimpse of a terrifying smile on his face. I shivered, wondering if he was copying the smile of the Founder Player, Marcus. Hawk's act was so convincing, that part of me wondered if this was genuine, if his mind had been stretched too thin by four hundred years of immortal glory and finally shattered. Hawk drew his knife. I started shaking, and broke my mouth free from his hand. "Please. Michael. Don't you love me? Don't ..." His hand smothered me again, and he forced me down to my knees. He was behind me now. I couldn't see him, only the anonymous droid standing watching me. "Of course I love you," said Hawk. "That's why I'm giving you this great honour, Emma. The honour of buying my apprenticeship to the Reaper." He pulled my head back against him, and his mouth came down to kiss my forehead gently. "I love you. Always." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the knife in his right hand as it flashed down to cut my throat. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Seventeen –––––––– "I'm all right on my own from here," I said. The Unilaw officer guiding me through the maze-like corridors of the United Law facility stopped, took a wary look at my face, and hastily hurried off rather than trying arguing with me. It was just as well. My respect for adults in general, and the forces of the law in particular, had worn thin since the Avalon world crash, and I was barely controlling my anger. I'd just recovered consciousness on the medical table to find half a dozen Unilaw officers gathered round me, all busily removing the remains of the blood and fake skin. My clothes appeared to be undisturbed, but I still felt my privacy had been violated. They could have waited the extra few minutes until I was properly awake before messing around with me! I continued down the corridor and pressed the doorbell at the side of Nathan's apartment door. When he opened it, he gestured at my bloodstained clothes. "Hawk does an impressive murder. When he cut your throat, there was blood spurting everywhere." I wasn't interested in his spectator's view of my death. I walked forward, and Nathan dodged aside to let me in. "You were a good victim too," he added. "You looked totally terrified." "That's because I was totally terrified," I said. "I was sure the Reaper's droid was carrying a bomb. I thought that if we did anything to make the Reaper suspicious then he'd blow us up." The apartment living area looked very different to the last time I'd seen it. Most of the furniture had been shoved aside to leave a central space clear for a holo worldscape that included creepy stone buildings adorned with gargoyles, and ramshackle thatched cottages. I guessed it was Game world Gothic, and it confirmed my opinion that I'd never want to live there. Three of the room walls were dotted with pieces of paper, several showing mysterious diagrams, but most just covered with notes in Nathan's obsessively neat handwriting. I turned to the fourth wall, with its mosaic of screens, and my attention was caught by a screen showing an image of me and Michael in the dormitory. At this moment, when I was acutely aware of Hawk as a physically vulnerable human being rather than the glittering immortal Gamer, I could only think of him as Michael. Nathan noticed me looking at the screen. "Would you like me to replay the murder for you?" "No, I wouldn't!" I snapped. "What's happening? Where's Michael?" Nathan looked evasive. "Bit of a problem there. We don't know." I turned to glare at him. "Why not? Unilaw should be tracking him by now." "Unilaw were ready to track his medical chip but ..." "But?" I spat out the word. "After Michael sacrificed you, the Reaper ordered him to cut the chip out of his arm." I stared at him. "Michael really did that?" Nathan nodded. "I couldn't watch. The murder was fake, your blood was fake, but Hawk cutting into his arm was real." I couldn't help picturing Michael digging into his own flesh with a knife. Medical chips were injected deep into the muscle of your arm. Getting one in there was easy but cutting one out ... "Has Michael activated any of the spy eyes he's carrying?" "Not yet," said Nathan. "He probably doesn't think it's safe." There was a long silence. "Try not to worry," said Nathan awkwardly. "I'm sure Hawk will be fine. Think of all the things he's done in Game." "This isn't Hawk!" I screamed at him. "This is Michael!" I found myself echoing Hawk's favourite centuries old swear word. "This isn't the bleeping Game, this is real life!" Nathan cowered. "I should have known this would happen," I ranted. "I warned Michael that Unilaw would track his medical chip. He said the Reaper would have a plan to deal with that. I assumed the Reaper would have a way to disable the medical chip, not order Michael to ..." I broke off, ran into the bedroom, blundered through it to the shower, and locked myself in. "Your contraceptive treatment is still active," the shower told me in a comforting female voice. "You should attend the medical centre for your hormone boost in preparation for egg harvesting and fertilization." I threw up. Fortunately showers are equipped to deal with that problem, especially showers designed to care for pregnant women. I must have been in the shower for about a quarter of an hour, when I heard Nathan's tentative voice calling from outside. "Are you all right in there, Jex?" "Yah." "A delivery trolley brought clothes for you. I've put them on a chair just outside the shower door." "Thanks." "I'll go back in the other room then." I'd been sitting on the shower floor, but now I forced myself to get up. I washed off the fake blood, got rid of the dye and makeup from my hair and my skin so I looked myself again, got the clothes from outside and dressed. Finally, I threw the old overalls I'd been wearing into a garbage chute. I was in the habit of being as frugal as possible, but it would be impossible to get all the blood out of them. When I went back into the living area, I saw Nathan was staring at his mosaic of screens. He dragged his attention away from the multitude of flashing images and turned to look at me. "I'm not being callous, Jex. I told you that I couldn't watch what happened, but Hawk will be fine once he's had medical treatment." I didn't reply, just dragged a chair over to sit next to Nathan, and gestured at the screens. "What is all this stuff?" "I'm following the chase for the Reaper, studying Game training texts, and reading things about the history of Game." "All at once?" "Yah." Nathan frowned. "The more I learn, the more I realize how lethal a rogue Game Tech could be, particularly one who'd worked on the original design phase of Game. We've got to catch the Reaper before..." He broke off. "Hawk!" Nathan pointed in excitement to one of his displays. It had zoomed in on a map, and a dot was flashing. "Has he activated a spy eye?" I asked. Nathan shook his head. "Since we lost Hawk, Unilaw have been using facial recognition software on all their surveillance camera images to watch for him. There were a couple of false alarms earlier, you can imagine how many black-haired boys are wandering around in blue overalls, but that flashing dot has just changed from amber to green. That means it's been confirmed as Hawk." "Where is he?" "He's just got into a pod at a main transport interchange. Unilaw are tracking the pod itself now. Look, you can see the green dot is moving." Nathan grinned. "I've managed to get a live feed of the information coming in for the Unilaw team leader. It's amazing what people will do when I use the magic words, 'Hawk says.'" Nathan leaned forward to tap his controls. "With luck I can ..." A new display appeared, this one showing a skinny kid in blue overalls getting into a one-person pod. The clip only lasted a couple of seconds but it was definitely Michael. "The Reaper's controlled Game droid doesn't seem to be with Michael." "That droid's been deactivated," said Nathan. "Did the Reaper use another fake identity number to control it?" Nathan pulled a face. "Yah. This time the identity number belonged to a six-month-old baby." "Let's hope Unilaw doesn't arrest the baby," I said bitterly. "It's lucky that the Reaper didn't use the identity number of an adult in Game, because they'd have been blamed for the bombing." "The Reaper couldn't use the identity number of someone in Game. If the Game data integrity system spotted two different people using the same identity number, then all sorts of alarms would start screaming." Nathan paused. "I've been trying to work out how the Reaper is managing to use fake identity numbers to do things. It's a lot harder than you might think, because identity numbers are controlled by the Game security system. I think the Reaper must have helped design that security system and left himself a back door." "What's a back door?" "If the Reaper helped design the security system, he could leave himself a weak spot. His own secret way into the system. A back door." I thought about that. "I don't know nearly as much about these things as you do, but the Reaper being able to mess around with the Game security system sounds bad to me." "It's incredibly bad." "Can we find out who designed the Game security system?" "The Game Techs have given me access to a mass of Game information, but nothing about the security system. They'd want to keep that secret from ..." Nathan was interrupted by a soft buzzing noise. He turned to look at one of his displays. "Unilaw Reception say they have an incoming call for you, Jex. It's player Odele Thorpe Scott Matthys, resident of Coral." "Agh. That's my mother." I buried my face in my hands. Why did my mother have to call me at a moment like this? I couldn't face discussing my father's death with her right now. Not when Michael was in danger and might die too. I couldn't explain about that to my mother. I couldn't even explain what I was doing at a United Law facility. I looked up sharply. "How could my mother know I'm here? She should be calling my phone, and I left that back in the long-distance carriage. Nathan, accept the call!" | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Eighteen –––––––– An image of my mother appeared on the screen in front of me. Her long, sea-green hair cascaded round her perfect face. Her eyes were a dark emerald colour, and there was a hint of mermaid scales around her hair line. In my earliest childhood memories, she'd been a dryad on Nature. Her hair had been the reddish-brown of autumn leaves then, and floated around her head like a halo, but her eyes had always been exactly the same green. "Happy birthday, Jex," she said. I glanced at another of Nathan's screens to check the date. "It's not my birthday until tomorrow, Mother." "Well, that's close enough. I'm sorry I didn't contact you about your father, but it would have been a difficult conversation." I opened my mouth to reply, but she lifted a delicate webbed hand to stop me. "Let's forget all about it." She hurried on, sweeping the issue of my father's death aside. "Your boyfriend just called me. You hadn't told me you had a boyfriend. You should tell your mother about these things." She waved a reproachful finger at me. "I don't understand why you're at a United Law facility, or why your boyfriend was calling me. He insisted it was vitally important that I give you a phone number and ask you to call him to talk privately, but you mustn't do that if you have any doubts about him." She hesitated before speaking again in an anxious voice. "I know there are some people who appear charming to begin with but then become frightening. If this boy is one of those people, he may try to manipulate you with emotional blackmail and threats to make you stay in a relationship with him. He's probably involved me to add extra pressure, he may get your friends to talk to you as well, but you mustn't give in." I was stunned. This was the first time my mother had ever referred to what she'd gone through with her ex-boyfriend on Ganymede. She hated to think about unpleasant memories, let alone talk about them, but she was doing it now because she was worried about this situation. From her viewpoint, it must look as if a strange boy was trying to force me to contact him, and I'd been driven into taking refuge at a United Law facility. I'd never been sure that my mother had any real feelings for me, but now I knew that she did. She was afraid I might be in danger, so she'd forced herself to mention a dreadful time and give me a warning. "There's no need to worry about me, Mother," I said. "I've just accidentally lost contact with my boyfriend and I want to talk to him very much." My mother gave me the number, and then hastily vanished back to her sea world of gentle beaches and coral reefs. Of course she'd be eager to end this call, but she'd hopefully call me again soon. Next time she'd be able to talk to me without mentioning my father's death or unpleasant memories. "Hawk must want us to call him using a secure, encrypted link," said Nathan. He had our outgoing call active in seconds. Michael's weary face appeared on the screen. He looked exhausted and strained, but he was alive. "Jex! It's really good to see you in one piece. Hello Nathan." Michael gave a heavy sigh, took something from a carton and bit into it. It looked like one of those awful sandwiches you got from vending machines. "It's good to see you too," I said. "Surveillance spotted you entering a pod. Why haven't you activated a spy eye?" "I didn't want anyone hearing this conversation but you two," he said, "so I bought a phone from a vending machine. I'm sorry about involving your mother, Jex. She didn't seem very happy about me contacting her, but I didn't dare to call the Unilaw facility or anyone connected to the investigation on an unsecured link. This was the only way I could think of to get my new phone number to you." "Don't worry about that," I said. "I think it's helped the situation between my mother and me. More urgently, Nathan has had an idea. He thinks that the Reaper helped design the Game security system and has left himself a back door into the system. That's a way ..." "I know what it is," interrupted Michael. "That explains how the Reaper plans to ... Well, never mind that now. I need to ask the Game investigation team for help. My problem is that I need a team of Game Techs with very high authority, but I have to make sure the Reaper isn't one of them. How can I do that? Asking them to exclude the original Game designers could alarm the Reaper." "Remember that we worked out why the Reaper attacked Avalon," said Nathan, "It was the first Game world to be created without the involvement of any of the original Game designers. You could ask for a team of Game Techs who worked on the design of Avalon. If the Reaper heard about that, he shouldn't be alarmed but confused, thinking that you're following some misleading clue about the Avalon bombing." Michael's tired face managed a grin. "Well done, Nathan! Avalon's designers should have very senior ranks by now." He abruptly ended the call, but within a minute another image appeared on the screen, showing the interior of a standard one-person pod with Michael lounging on a seat. I noticed a rough bandage was bound round the top of his left arm. It was heavily stained with blood, but he could still move the arm because he used his left hand to drop half a sandwich back into its carton before speaking. "Surveillance, can you see and hear me?" The voice of surveillance echoed slightly. "We can see and hear you, Hawk. We've been tracking your pod's progress through the transport system, but we couldn't see you until you activated the spy eye." There was a note of reproach as she said the last few words. "It was too risky for me to activate a spy eye earlier," said Michael. "A lot has been happening. I need you to get a team of Game Techs to help us. They should all be members of the original Avalon design team." There was a pause before surveillance replied. "We've made the request to the Game investigation team." "Patch the Game Techs into the spy eye channel as soon as they're ready. Jex and Nathan, are you in channel too?" Nathan tapped the screen. "We're here." "Good." Michael retrieved his sandwich. He had time to finish eating it and have a drink before there was a new female voice on the channel. "This is the leader of your requested Game Tech team." "Welcome," said Michael. "I know I don't look like it at the moment, but Unilaw can vouch for the fact that I'm Hawk. I called for defrost and managed to get recruited by our bomber. Now, how large is your team, did you all work on the design of Avalon, and are you somewhere safe from eavesdroppers?" "Twelve, correct, and correct," said the Game Tech. "Is Avalon likely to be attacked again, and should we evacuate its population?" "That shouldn't be necessary," said Michael. "The one absolutely vital thing is that your rogue Game Tech doesn't find out what I tell you or what we're doing. He's trying to blow up another server complex. Our new precautions prevent him from using a delivery trolley to plant the bombs, so he's sending me to plant them myself." He gestured casually at the floor in front of him. "I've got four bombs with me. I've been told the transport stop for the target server complex, and the code to let me into the storage unit there to get a buggy. I've been told the paths to follow to get to the server complex. I'm supposed to be there, waiting outside the force field, in ..." Michael glanced at the time on the pod guidance display. "In exactly forty-seven minutes. At that point, the bomber is supposed to send me the security code for the force field. Once I've used the security code, I've got two minutes to enter, plant the bombs, and get out before the force field closes again. The bombs are timed to explode fifteen minutes after that." "You don't intend to plant the bombs?" The voice of the Game Tech leader had lost the standard calm, polite manner, and sounded close to panic. Michael grinned. "I'm not playing along with the bomber that far. I'll drop off the bombs somewhere on the way to the server complex." "The new security arrangements require three gold status Game Techs from different departments to authorize requests for force field security codes," said the Game Tech leader, in a despairing voice. "If the bomber can still obtain them, then he must have multiple gold status co-conspirators among our ranks." "I believe there's only one Game Tech involved in this," said Michael, "but he may have a way to get past the security checks. I need your team watching for him to access the force field security code. I believe the access should be recorded on an audit trail?" "That is correct," said the Game Tech leader. "I expect the bomber will try to delete the record of his access from the audit trail as soon as he's got his security code. Will you be able to copy the information before he can delete it?" "That is correct." "Then we should be able to get the bomber's true identity number. Once you've proved who he is, then immediately call whoever you need to arrest him. We won't need to hide what we're doing after that." I tapped the screen to let me speak. "Michael." "Yes, Jex?" "The Reaper might have put a spy eye on your buggy so he can watch you planting the bombs. If he sees you stop and abandon the bombs on the way to the server complex ..." Michael groaned. "You're right, Jex. I'll have to take the bombs with me as far as the force field. When the Reaper sends me the force field code, I won't use it, just dump the bombs and drive my buggy away. With the protective force field still active, the bombs won't be able to damage the server complex when they explode." I gnawed anxiously at my bottom lip. "I strongly suggest you drive away at top speed after you dump the bombs." Michael laughed. "I certainly will. I don't want my head blown off." He turned off the spy eye. Nathan and I sat in silence after that, watching a screen display the green dot that marked Michael's position on a map of the transport system. After a while, Nathan leaned forward to get a closer look at the dot. "Has the pod stopped?" "Yah. Michael must be getting out now, and collecting the buggy. We won't hear anything more from him until ..." We both turned to check the time. "Sixteen minutes to go," said Nathan. We watched the minutes and the seconds tick away. I was bracing myself for something to happen at the end of those sixteen endless minutes, and jumped nervously when I heard the voice of surveillance speak before that. "Two minutes." The Game Tech leader replied. "We're ready." Sixty slow seconds later, surveillance gave another time check. "One minute." I started counting seconds. I'd got to eighty-one before anything happened. "We can see an authorized request for a force field security code," reported the Game Tech leader. "Second authorization received. Third authorization received. Copying audit trail and checking identity numbers of ..." She broke off. An image from a spy eye appeared on the screen in front of me. Judging from the way the picture was jolting around, Michael had stuck the spy eye to the buggy control panel ahead of him, and was driving along the path at top speed. "I've dumped the bombs," he gasped. "Any luck identifying the bomber?" "That is correct," said the Game Tech leader, in tragic, mourning tones. "One of the original Game designers?" asked Michael sympathetically. "That is correct." The Game Tech leader didn't ask how he'd known that. She was too traumatized to care. "All three authorizations came from the same person, but they had different department numbers." "The bomber has a back door into the Game security system," said Michael. "He must have been using that to change his department number between the authorizations. You're taking steps to arrest him?" "That is correct." "It's awful for them," murmured Nathan. "The Reaper was one of the first guardians of Game. Knowing he betrayed the trust the players have in us, deliberately killing those under our care, is ..." I noticed the betraying shift, as Nathan changed from referring to the Game Techs as 'them', and said that significant 'us' and 'our'. I turned my head to look at him, saw his expression, and hastily faced away again. A moment of pain like that deserved privacy. "I assume you've worked out what server complex I was supposed to destroy," said Michael. "What Game world was the bomber attacking this time?" "Your target was Celestius," said the Game Tech. Michael flinched. "The Reaper sent me to bomb Celestius! My own world. My own family." "That is correct." The Game Tech paused. "I regret to inform you that we have failed to apprehend the bomber." "Why? What went ...?" Michael's voice was drowned out by a loud explosion, and the screen went black. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Nineteen –––––––– I sat next to where Michael lay on a medical examination table, and watched the controlled droid of a doctor working on him. "It's just a few bruises," said Michael. It had taken seventeen minutes for a medical team to reach Michael. For seventeen minutes, I'd thought he was dead. During that endless time I'd discovered something. My head had decided to do the sensible thing, and refuse to get involved with Michael. My emotions weren't sensible, and were already involved with him. "Bruises, mild concussion, and an arm wound." The doctor cautiously manipulated Michael's right hand and wrist. Michael winced in pain. "And a sprained wrist," said the doctor. "All right, bruises, a bump on the head, a small hole in my left arm, and a sprained right wrist." Michael sounded irritated. "A big hole in your left arm," said the doctor. "It took a few attempts for me to find the medical chip and cut it out." Michael winced again as the doctor did some repair work on his arm. "I need to get back into Game now." I bit my lip. Michael couldn't leave, couldn't turn back into Hawk the Unvanquished, before I had the chance to talk to him privately. I had to tell him I'd changed my mind. No, not exactly changed my mind. I still believed that any relationship with him would end with me being badly hurt in the future, but there was a new factor to consider. Not getting involved with Michael would mean me being badly hurt right now. I wasn't sure exactly where that left us, but I didn't want him vanishing back into Game before I had time to work it out. "I've given you accelerated healing injections," said the doctor, "but the treatment will need twelve hours to complete before you can be frozen." "I can't wait around for twelve hours. I need to ..." I didn't let Michael finish his sentence. "The doctor is right. It's incredibly dangerous to freeze someone who has an open wound. You have to let your arm heal properly before you enter Game." "But I've got fifty billion players waiting for me to ..." I cut him off again. "They'll have to keep waiting for another twelve hours. If you insist on being frozen with that open wound, the resulting tissue damage will mean you have to be defrosted in a few days' time to have your arm amputated. Would you like me to talk you through the details of the amputation process?" "No, I wouldn't!" said Michael. "All right, I'll wait. It's probably just as well that you didn't finish your medical training, Jex. Your bedside manner is terrifying." "Effective though." The doctor gave me an approving nod. "Long term players are always impossible when they get real life injuries. They think it's like Game, where they can go home and be healed within a few minutes." Michael sat up. "What about you, Jex? Were you hurt much when I cut your throat? The way the blood sprayed everywhere was terrifying, and I couldn't see you breathing at all. It wasn't until I saw you on my phone display that I was sure I wasn't a murderer." "You should have known the blood was all fake, and the lack of breathing was only because I'd been injected with that drug. I just had a few bruises, and I was treated for those hours ago. Everything is healed now. Look!" I rolled up my sleeves and displayed my arms. "Not a mark on me." "It's the state of your neck that's been worrying me. I thought I'd cut too deeply with the knife and ..." Michael slid off the table and moved to give my neck a close inspection. "All right, your jugular vein seems intact. Let's go and get a status report from Nathan." "I'd recommend food and sleep as well," said the doctor. "And a shower," I added. Michael paused on his way to the door, and sniffed himself suspiciously. "Do I ...?" I laughed. "A bit. Mind you, I'd sweat a lot as well if I was carrying bombs around." "We don't sweat in Game," said Michael. "We don't get tired physically in quite the same way either, though doing too much can get very wearing mentally. I've been having a difficult time since the Avalon bombing." We went out into the corridor. "There's something I need to say." I took a deep breath. "I changed my mind. About us." Michael gave me a startled look. "About us having a relationship?" "Yah. I don't want us rushing into anything, or ..." I broke off my sentence. There was no need for me to worry about us rushing into anything. Not when Michael was going back into Game and I was stuck in the real world until I was nineteen. "I promise not to rush anything," said Michael. He turned to face me, hesitated, and then shook his head. "No, I just promised I wouldn't rush things, and I desperately need a shower, but ... I'm glad, Jex. I'm really glad." We stood there for a couple of minutes, just looking at each other, before a pregnant woman came walking along the corridor. We hastily dodged aside to let her pass, and then headed for Nathan's room. As soon as we were inside the door, Michael turned to Nathan. "How bad do I smell?" I laughed at Nathan's stunned expression. "On second thoughts," said Michael, "don't answer that. Jex has already told me I stink." He walked on into the main living area, and blinked as he saw the furniture crammed into corners and the holo worldscape dominating the centre of the room. "Is it possible to remove Game world Gothic so we can sit down?" Nathan had been staring at me, mouthing a question with raised eyebrows, but now he hurried across to sit at his mosaic of screens. He tapped at the control bank, and the sinister landscape of Gothic vanished. Michael grabbed a large, cushioned chair, attempted to drag it into the centre of the room, and gave a yelp of pain. I spoke in a withering voice. "Michael, you have extensive muscle damage in your left arm and a sprained right wrist. Do I really need to explain why it's a stupid idea for you to try moving heavy furniture?" There was an appalled gulp from the direction of Nathan. Michael turned to give him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. That's just Jex's way of showing how much she cares about me." I didn't see how Nathan reacted to that, because I was busy towing two chairs into the centre of the room. I sat in one of them, Michael slumped down into the other with a sigh of relief, and Nathan swung round in his seat to face us. "Have the Game Techs caught the Reaper yet?" asked Michael. "No," said Nathan. "The Game Techs tracked his location to backstage on Game world Witchcraft." "What's backstage mean?" I asked. "It's a Game Tech term for their special hidden areas on Game worlds," said Nathan. "A team of Game Techs went to Witchcraft to arrest the Reaper, but he vanished." Michael was a fraction of a second ahead of me in asking the obvious question. "How did he vanish?" "The Game Techs are still trying to work that out," said Nathan. "When they confronted the Reaper, he disappeared. They assumed he'd used a standard Game teleport or world transfer, but their attempts to track a new location for his identity number keep failing. It's as if the Reaper has left Game entirely." "He can't have left Game," I said. "If he'd somehow managed to put himself through emergency defrost, we'd know about it. After the Avalon bombing, any unscheduled defrost in the body stacks would instantly be reported to Unilaw." Nathan nodded. "It's more likely that the Reaper's found a way to stop his location from being tracked." Michael sighed. "If the Game Techs can't find the Reaper, have they at least given us some information about him?" Nathan nodded again. "The Reaper's real name is Harper. He was the original creative director of the Game. That means he was the person who decided the base concept for each of the first few Game worlds." I frowned. "The base concept? You mean things like deciding Automaton would be centred on robots, and Coral would have merfolk?" "Yah," said Nathan. "The Game Techs are clearly devastated that Harper was the bomber. My impression is that they have a few troublesome Founder Game Techs, but Harper was considered to be perfectly reasonable. He just had a few ego problems and a grievance about the Game Company's policy of anonymity for Game Techs." "I can understand Harper having a grievance about that," said Michael. "He was the one who decided the concepts for the original Game worlds. He'd think of them as his own personal creations. When Game opened to the public, and people rushed in to explore his worlds, he'd feel entitled to fame and respect. Instead, he was robbed of recognition for his creations and forced to remain in the shadows." Michael shook his head. "Then there was another blow. People were flooding into Game, and more worlds were urgently needed. New designers were brought in, and allowed to supplant Harper's position by designing worlds as well." "It makes sense that Harper attacked Avalon because it was the first world that wasn't his creation," said Nathan, "but why would he want to attack Celestius? Harper would have been involved in both its original design and the project where it was revamped to become the Celestius we know today." "Yes, Harper would have been the one who decided the basic concept of Celestius, with its castles in the air," said Michael. "He didn't want to attack Celestius itself, but the Founder Players who live there. For four centuries, Harper has watched all the praise and hero worship that should have been his being heaped on Founder Players like me. Harper built the Game, while we just played around in it, but we got the fame and honour instead of him. You can understand why he'd feel cheated by that and hate all Founder Players." "Umm, maybe," said Nathan nervously. "All that anger and resentment has been burning in Harper for centuries," said Michael, "so what triggered him into taking action now?" "For four centuries, the Game has been growing steadily in size," said Nathan. "Last year, the Game company held a major review of potential problem areas. Everyone knows that review flagged the increasing amount of work needing to be done in the real world, so the Leebrook Ashton bill was passed. There was also a big reorganization of the Game Tech hierarchy, and Harper was deeply unhappy about the effect on his position." "Harper felt he'd never been given the recognition he deserved," I murmured, "and then his position in the Game Tech hierarchy was threatened. He decided that he was never going to be famous and loved for creating Game worlds, so he'd be famous and feared for destroying them." "Harper began by crashing Avalon to shock the whole of Game," said Michael. "That was supposed to be blamed on a resentful teenager, but it would be followed by crashing Celestius. Harper would kill a lot of the Founder Players who'd stolen his glory, demonstrate that both Unilaw and the Game Techs were powerless against him, and then make some sort of announcement to the population of Game." He paused. "Harper successfully crashed Avalon, but then his plan started going wrong. We worked out that a Game Tech was responsible for the bombing, which meant all the security systems were improved, and then Jex and I contacted Tomath. A couple of blackmailers were an unpredictable threat to Harper's carefully prepared plan, so he decided to eliminate both of us. First he got me to murder Jex, and then he lied to me about when the bombs would explode. Harper didn't time them to explode fifteen minutes after I'd planted them, but when I'd still be inside the force field. I was really lucky that I didn't use the force field code, just dumped the bombs and drove away." I couldn't help picturing what would have happened if the bombs had exploded just a few seconds earlier. Michael wouldn't just have minor injuries, he'd be ... A buzzing sound interrupted my thoughts. Nathan turned in his chair and tapped rapidly at his bank of controls. "A report just came in." "Have the Game Techs caught the Reaper?" asked Michael. "No, this report is from Unilaw," said Nathan. "Tomath's been killed in an explosion." | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Twenty –––––––– "Tomath's been killed in an explosion!" Michael and I repeated in unison. "When did that happen?" Michael continued solo. "At about the same time as your bombs exploded," said Nathan. "The Unilaw team were focusing their attention on you at the time, so there was a delay investigating." "The Reaper planned to kill Michael and me," I said. "He must have decided to make a clean sweep of things and kill Tomath as well." "Yah," said Nathan. "A delivery trolley took a parcel to Tomath's room. The packaging said it contained a new luxury model phone, but it was really a bomb. When Tomath opened it there was a massive explosion. Fortunately, the kids in the closest rooms were at work at the time, so only Tomath was killed." Michael sighed. "Given how many people were killed in the Avalon crash, I don't have much sympathy for Tomath. He might not have realized he was planting bombs beforehand, but he did once they'd exploded. If he'd gone to Unilaw back then, and told them what he knew, he'd still be alive." Michael was silent for a moment. "Do we expect any more drastic things to happen in the next ten minutes?" "No," said Nathan. "Then I'll go and shower. Hopefully that will stop Jex wrinkling her nose whenever I get close to her. Could you find me fresh clothes and something decent to eat? I had a sandwich earlier but it tasted awful." "That's because the sandwiches from vending machines are packed with preservatives," I said. "Those don't just taste bad, but can attack your stomach lining and ..." Michael hastily interrupted me. "Please, Jex, don't tell me what horrors that sandwich may have done to my stomach. I'm already having gory visions of someone amputating my arm." Michael wandered off through the bedroom and into the shower. Nathan glanced after him, and then gave me a worried look. "You told a Founder Player he stank?" "I hinted that Michael could use a shower." "And you said he was being stupid when he tried to move that chair." "It wasn't an intelligent thing to do, was it?" Nathan frowned. "I heard Hawk kept annoying surveillance by jamming their spy eyes. What's been going on between you two?" I could feel myself blushing. "Nothing lurid. We just wanted some privacy while we discussed plans for the future." I wasn't going to mention the kiss. It wasn't Nathan's business. In fact, none of what had happened between me and Michael was Nathan's business. Nathan shook his head. "You told me that nothing could happen between you and Hawk." "It wasn't happening between me and Hawk. It was happening between me and Michael." I waved a finger at Nathan. "And don't start giving me dire warnings about Michael going back into Game and becoming Hawk the Unvanquished again. I know all that. I know things can't possibly work between us, but ..." I let the words trail off, and waved my hands in a gesture of helpless despair. "I wasn't going to give you any dire warnings," said Nathan. "When we talked about this before, I was worried that you'd fall for Hawk, he wouldn't be interested, and you'd get hurt. Things are different now. The way you were acting when you got back here after the fake murder told me you were deeply involved with Hawk, but he keeps throwing glowing looks in your direction as well. If you've got as far as discussing plans for the future, then he's obviously serious about making things work between you, so I don't see there's a problem." "There's going to be nothing but problems," I said grimly. "It'll be a year before I can enter Game. A year for Hawk the Unvanquished to forget all about me. Even if he doesn't, there'll be a four hundred year age difference, and a huge power gulf between us. Every news channel in Game will be watching us and waiting for our relationship to fall apart." "You're sometimes a bit pessimistic, Jex." "I'm not pessimistic. I've just had a lot of experience of things going horribly wrong. Now, you organize the clothes for Michael, while I order food and drinks for us." Fifteen minutes later, I'd arranged a table of food in the middle of the room, and a delivery trolley had brought a set of clothes. Nathan took those through into the bedroom, and a few minutes later Michael appeared. I stared at him, confused by his appearance. It wasn't just that he was wearing respectable clothes. He'd had a haircut as well. "What do you think?" he asked, looking at me. "I was getting used to your floppy hair, but I admit this looks better." "I felt I probably needed a haircut after four hundred years. You wouldn't believe what that shower said to me." "I would," said Nathan gloomily. "I really would." I laughed. "When I showered earlier, it told me to have my hormone boost in preparation for egg harvesting and fertilization." Michael choked. "Even in my worst days, I could have phrased that more romantically." He looked at the table. "I see we've got blueberry apples." I nodded. "They're my favourite. You should try one." Michael picked up an apple, and took a cautious bite. "This does taste rather good," he admitted. "It isn't going to do anything dreadful to my stomach lining?" "Blueberry apples are highly nutritious," I said. We spent the next few minutes loading food onto plates and eating. Nathan and I finished our meal well ahead of Michael, because of his habit of cautiously inspecting each new item and taking nervous sample bites. I frowned as I watched him trying to decide if he should risk a piece of cake. "I know it isn't necessary to eat and drink in Game," I said, "but people enjoy having picnics and banquets, so you must have met all these foods before. Is the problem that they taste different in Game?" "No," said Michael. "People on Celestius tend to stick to the foods we knew and liked before we entered Game." "You don't spend all your time on Celestius though," said Nathan. "No, but if I go to an event where there's food involved, people make sure there's plenty of my favourite ..." Michael was interrupted by another buzzing sound from Nathan's bank of controls. Nathan scurried across to tap at them. Michael and I watched hopefully, but got restless when he didn't say anything for a full minute. "Is that a report from the Game Tech investigation?" I asked. "Yah." Nathan was still staring at his screens. "Judging from the expression on your face, it isn't good news," said Michael. "It isn't," said Nathan. "The Game Techs couldn't track Harper's location using his identity number, so they tried the alternative method of looking for his constream. That's the stream of data in Game which... Well, it's a bit hard to describe, but you can think of it as Harper's consciousness in Game." "I've never found a good way to describe it either," said Michael. "I like to think of myself as a person, not a lot of data floating around in a computer." "Everyone's constream has its designated position in the Game system," said Nathan. "When the Game Techs checked the designated position for Harper's constream, they found it had been deleted." I shook my head. "I can't believe that Harper would just delete himself from existence." "Harper hasn't deleted himself," said Nathan. "I've explained to you before that Game Techs can enter areas of Game that players can't reach. Game Tech constreams are also held in completely different data storage areas from those of players. When a player is recruited as a Game Tech, an automated process is used to transfer the new recruit's constream from player data storage to Game Tech data storage." He paused. "When Harper vanished, it was because he'd run that automated process in reverse." I tried to work out what that meant. Michael got there faster than me. "You mean that Harper has changed himself from a Game Tech into an ordinary player?" "Yah," said Nathan. "Harper's recreated himself as a player, but he's changed both his name and his identity number. The Game Techs can't find any clues to what player name he's using now, what he looks like, or where he went." Michael's eyes widened in alarm. "Could he have gone to Celestius?" "That's the one world in Game where Harper definitely can't be," said Nathan. "The system only allows entry to Celestius for those on the list of Founder Players." "Could Harper have added himself to that list?" I asked. "There are under a thousand Founder Players," said Nathan. "It was easy for the Game Techs to check that no new ones have suddenly appeared. You can't have two players with the same identity number, so Harper can't have duplicated an existing Founder Player." I had an extremely nasty thought. "Is it possible that Harper has deleted one of the Founder Players from Game and replaced them?" "No," said Nathan. "This automated process is used to transfer a single constream between the player and Game Tech data storage. It couldn't have affected any other players." "So, the Reaper has created a new player identity for himself," I said. "We know he isn't a Founder Player, but other than that ..." Michael groaned. "There are fifty billion players in Game, and any one of them could be the Reaper." | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Twenty-one –––––––– There was a long silence before Nathan spoke. "I'm sorry. After all you two went through ..." Michael literally shook himself. "No. We mustn't let ourselves think of this as a failure. When this investigation started, no one could think of anything more useful to do than randomly arresting kids from the body stacks." I frowned as I remembered the Unilaw droid that had broken into my room and held me at gunpoint. "Think how far we've come since then," said Michael. "We've found out which Game Tech was the Reaper, and that means we can trust the rest of them. It's a huge relief to know I can enter Game again without worrying that the Game Techs guarding my back might delete me." "Are we sure that the Reaper was the only Game Tech involved in the bombing?" I asked. "The Reaper was planning to make himself the ruler of Game," said Michael. "I can't believe he'd be willing to share his throne with another Game Tech. It's not just his ego that would stop him involving a rival, but his caution too. Another Game Tech would be a potential threat. We know the Reaper reacts to threats by eliminating them, and he'd be well aware that he couldn't eliminate another Game Tech as easily as a teenager." "Yah," I said thoughtfully. "The Reaper would stick to recruiting convenient tools that he could dispose of easily when their usefulness was at an end." "The Reaper had centuries to prepare for this," said Michael. "It's not surprising that he'd have an escape route ready to use if things went wrong, but transferring to being a player must severely limit his actions. He won't be able to use any special Game Tech abilities now, will he, Nathan?" "Definitely not. The systems and tools that Game Techs use are accessed from their backstage areas of Game. It's impossible for the Reaper to reach those now that he's an ordinary player. When players ask to move location within Game, they can only go to player areas. When Game Techs move location, they can either go to player areas or backstage." "The Reaper just has to get a job in the real world to have access to a controlled droid though," I said. "That means he'll still be able to make bombs. He shouldn't be able to get hold of the force field codes for the server complexes now, but he could attack other vulnerable places." "If the Reaper arranges another bombing," said Michael, "we'll get clues to his new identity. He won't be able to bribe any teenagers by clearing their records now, or play around with identity numbers to hide who is controlling a droid." "Point," I acknowledged, "but I'd still feel happier if we had a way to catch him before there's another bombing. Do the Game Techs know which frozen body belongs to the Reaper?" "Yah," said Nathan. "It's under guard now, but guarding the Reaper's frozen body doesn't stop him doing things in Game." "Of course not," I said, "but can't the Game Techs run checks to find what player owns that body?" Nathan sighed. "They've already gone through their records, but no player is listed as owning the Reaper's body. He's probably set up his new identity without any information on a physical body. That's not going to attract attention, because a lot of players don't have a body any longer." "What? No physical body?" I shook my head. "How could that happen?" "When someone critically ill enters Game, their body may not survive the freezing process," said Nathan. "You end up with an orphaned mind in Game with no body in the real world. After four centuries of rushing people into Game before they die, there must be hundreds of thousands of players in that situation." I could see that was better than letting someone die in real life, and logically the person in Game was just as real whether they had a body in a freezer unit or not. Still, I found it disturbing to think of people not having a physical body at all. Presumably they'd be told about their situation, perhaps they'd even be asked if they wanted their body buried or cremated. I wondered if they ever thought of themselves as ghosts haunting Game. Michael abandoned the remains of his meal and stood up. "I need to report back to Game now, and then we should all get some sleep. Is it possible to get more beds in here, or do we have to share? If so, I'm first in line to share with Jex." I threw an apple core at him. "We agreed not to rush things!" Nathan coughed pointedly. "I'll, um, see what I can arrange about beds." Michael wandered over to the mosaic of screens and tapped at the controls. The four screens at the centre of the mosaic merged together to form a single, larger screen, and a woman appeared on it. She was wearing a purple sari trimmed with gold, and had diamonds sparkling on her dark forehead. I knew she was in Game, because she was too lovely to be a real human being. Besides, I recognized her even before Michael greeted her with a grin. "Cassandra, it's me." This was Cassandra, who people called the Dream Weaver. Everyone agreed she was the loveliest of the female Founder Players. Not because of her looks – anyone could choose to be beautiful in Game – but because of her smile. People said it was the most fascinating smile of any woman in Game, and eulogized about the Mona Lisa and Helen of Troy. Cassandra was smiling at Michael now. "Not quite Hawk the Unvanquished," she said. He pulled a face of self-deprecation. "No, Michael's back." She laughed. "Michael looks better than I remember him in the old days. Did someone pin you down and forcibly cut your hair?" "They have machines that cut your hair now," said Michael. "I tried one out while I was showering. I was worried it would cut my ears off, but it didn't." He turned to gesture at me and Nathan. "Cassandra, you know all about me defrosting to help Jex and Nathan chase the bomber. Jex, Nathan, this is Cassandra. She's been helping me hide the fact I'd left Game." Cassandra nodded. "Hello Jex. Hello Nathan." Nathan was staring in awe at Cassandra. He blushed and mumbled a greeting. I was a bit tongue tied too. It wasn't just that I was being introduced to Cassandra the Dream Weaver. Michael was smiling at her in a way that meant she was very special to him. I felt horribly jealous. "So ..." said Michael, or Hawk. "What's happening in Game, Cassandra?" She sighed. "The player population is getting upset. It's been a long time since you gave them an update." "Unavoidable. If people saw me as Michael, they'd lose all confidence in my ability to save them from a rat, let alone a bomber. Besides, I've been very busy." "But you're coming back to Game to make a broadcast now?" she asked. "I'm afraid I won't be in Game and ready to make a broadcast for about another twelve hours." "Twelve hours!" Cassandra took a deep breath. "I don't think I can keep people calm for that long. They're losing faith in the Game Techs, Unilaw, and even you." "I could give you an update to pass on to them." She looked doubtful. "It would have to be something good." Michael thought for a moment. "It should be safe to let people know that I'm not in Game now. Let's go for the sympathy vote. Tell people that I defrosted to chase the bomber in real life. Say that I've been wounded, and I need to heal up before returning to Game or I'll have to have my arm amputated. I'll be back in Game and making an important broadcast in twelve hours' time." Cassandra's eyes widened with concern. "You've been wounded? Are you all right?" "I'll be fine," said Michael. "Absolutely fine, so long as I let my arm heal before they freeze me." "The players should respond to that," said Cassandra. "Heroic Hawk chasing the bomber in the real world, struggling on despite his wounds, willing to die permanently to save his fellow players." Michael laughed. "I'm sure you'll make a great speech. There's one more thing I need to tell you." His expression abruptly changed to be deadly serious. "This is for your ears only, Cassandra. Tell your husband if you wish, but no one else. I'll tell the player population about it eventually, but I'll need to break the news to the family first." She looked alarmed. "What's happened?" "The bomber tried to blow up another server complex. Jex helped me get recruited as his assistant. She acted the role of human sacrifice, and was even willing to die genuinely if necessary. That meant I found out about the bombing and was able to stop it, but ... The bomber's target was Celestius." Cassandra's famous smile vanished. She no longer looked assured and immortal, but like an ordinary woman. "Thank you for stopping the bombing," she said, her eyes going from Michael, to me, and to Nathan in turn. "I would have died." I wasn't jealous of her any longer. I'd just been reminded of the fact that she'd been married to Thor for more than three hundred years, and anyway Michael had told me that none of the female Founder Players had ever been interested in him. I hastily tried to reassure Cassandra. "There were millions of players on Avalon when it crashed, so over eleven thousand people died in emergency defrost. With less than a thousand people on Celestius, a world crash might not cause any deaths at all." She lifted a graceful hand to stop me. "You don't understand, Jex. People entering Game now are still young and healthy, but the Founder Players were very different. A third of us entered the Game because we were terminally ill. My body was very weak indeed. Even a planned defrost would be extremely dangerous for me. An unscheduled, high-speed defrost would certainly have killed me and many of the rest of the family as well." "Oh," I murmured, thinking of how the players would have reacted to the deaths of hundreds of their legendary Founder Players. It would have been far worse than the panic after the Avalon deaths. Cassandra made a visible effort to pull herself together. "I'll give your message to the player population, Hawk. I'll leave you to tell the family about ... the other news." The call ended, and Michael turned to Nathan. "Beds?" "Beds?" asked Nathan blankly. The tension in Michael's face was replaced with amusement. "The flat things you sleep on. I thought I was the one who was four hundred years out of date on things like food and sleep." "Oh yah," said Nathan. "Beds. Sorry." "Don't be. I needed a moment of humour. I've been going through a whole series of living nightmares in the last few hours. Thinking I'd really killed Jex. Carrying round bombs. Finding out I'd been sent to destroy my own home, my own family. Seeing Cassandra's face just now made everything pile on top of me. We came so close to losing the whole Sisterhood, and that's ..." Michael broke off and brushed his face with his hand. "I mustn't rip myself apart over things that didn't happen. I don't know how I'm going to tell the family about the attack on Celestius though. I can't lie to them, not about something like this, and if Cassandra takes it that hard then some of the others will be totally hysterical." He shook his head. "People seem to think Hawk is an invulnerable legend, but I have limits. Here in the real world, being Michael again, that's even more true. A funny moment is just what I needed to relax. Please, let's forget human sacrifices, bombs, the Reaper, everything, and think about silly things for a while." Nathan gave him a thoughtful look. "If you want to think about silly things, then just remember that shower." Nathan tugged three chairs into a line, went over to the wall, and worked on a control panel. The chairs shuffled closer together and merged to form a small bed. "That's one bed," he said cheerfully. "Now the one in the bedroom is extra large to give pregnant women plenty of comfortable space. At least, that's what it told me." I giggled. "Your bed talked to you?" "Oh yah," said Nathan. "The shower and the bed are both worried about my hormones, so they talk to me a lot." Michael and I followed him into the bedroom. "I think I can ..." Nathan adjusted a control panel at the side of the bed. "Are you sure you wish to make that change?" asked the bed. "Yes, I'm sure," said Nathan. "During pregnancy a larger sleeping area ..." "Just shut up and make the change," said Nathan. The bed split down the middle and the two sides moved smoothly apart, but it still wasn't happy about the new arrangement. "If you wish to restore default sleeping accommodation then ..." "I don't!" Nathan waited a moment, in case the bed tried to mutiny, but it stayed silently in two halves. "I think the bed's sulking," said Michael, with a grin. "I feel a bit like sulking too. If we'd been stuck with that large bed, and it came down to a fight over which of us was going to share it with Jex, I was pretty sure I'd beat you, Nathan." "I'm not so sure," said Nathan, looking at Michael with concern. "Do you realize you're swaying from side to side?" I could see what he meant. Michael had seemed perfectly normal while he was getting the news report from Nathan. He'd looked tired while talking to Cassandra. Now he was clearly about to drop from exhaustion combined with the aftermath of stress. "It doesn't matter who would win now," said Michael gloomily. "You've blown both our chances by finding us three beds. I know what Jex is going to say." I grinned and said it. "You two sleep in the bedroom. I'm sleeping next door." I went out of the bedroom, and was startled to find Michael following me and shutting the door firmly behind him. I gave him a reproving look. "I said you two were sleeping in the bedroom. You promised not to rush things between us, and frankly you're in no state to rush things anyway." "I know," he said. "I just need to talk to you about something in private." "Yah?" "In the morning, I have to go back into Game. I've arranged for two freezer units to be brought here where Unilaw can keep them safely under guard." I frowned. "Why do you want two freezer units?" "I don't think the Reaper will risk another bombing. I think the chase is moving away from the real world and into Game. Will you come there with me, Jex?" I had to replay his words in my head to make sure I hadn't somehow misheard them. "You want me to enter Game now? I'd love to, but I have to wait until I'm nineteen." Michael shook his head. "If I say I want to take my assistants into Game to help me catch the bomber, nobody is going to start arguing about the Leebrook Ashton bill. It's best that Nathan stays working here in real life for a little longer, he wouldn't be allowed access to Game design information as a player in Game, but you can come with me." Michael looked expectantly at me, but I was still too stunned to speak. "You can stay here with Nathan if you prefer that," added Michael. "I promised I wouldn't rush things between us. You can think about it and tell me your decision in the morning." He didn't wait for an answer, just turned, went back into the bedroom, and closed the door. I heard a muffled female voice through the door, which had to be a bed giving advice on suitable hormone therapy, and gave a shaky laugh. I cleared away the remains of the food, lay down on my own bed, and stared up at the ceiling. I had to choose between bypassing the Leebrook Ashton bill and entering Game right away, or waiting in the real world for another year. It wasn't a hard decision to make. All my life, I'd been dreaming of entering Game, and now I had the chance to go there with Michael. The fact that Michael would enter Game and become Hawk was going to complicate things, the fact we were going there to chase the bomber would complicate things even more, but there was no way that I was going to be left behind. Tomorrow would be my eighteenth birthday. I'd always dreamed of entering Game on that day. The Leebrook Ashton bill had snatched that dream away, but Michael had handed it back to me. Tomorrow, the Jex of the silver, feathered hair would come to life. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Twenty-two –––––––– "Are you nearly finished?" asked Nathan. "Nearly." I frowned at the screen in front of me. "I didn't expect Game Registration to take this long. I'd set up my appearance and basic facts ages ago. I knew I still had to do the final personal details section, but I wasn't expecting all the movement sequencing as well. I must have looked really silly doing the arm waving and jumping up and down." "The movement sequencing is very important. It means you'll move in Game like yourself, rather than using standard automated movements." I remembered something. "Michael mentioned he'd injured a shoulder muscle just before he entered Game. It must have affected his movement sequencing, which is why Hawk always does that one-shouldered shrug. Anyway, I'm just finishing my answers to the, erm ..." Nathan grinned. "Sexual preference details?" "Erm ... yah. When we were taught about Game Registration in school, they didn't mention these questions." "We were nine years old at the time," said Nathan. "Point, but it says my answers will go on my open record for anyone to see." "Having players' sexual preferences stated on their open record avoids a lot of unfortunate misunderstandings." "Assuming people are honest about them. Which I doubt very much." Nathan laughed at me. "Are you hiding a dark secret, Jex?" I ignored him. "Just a couple more questions now." I entered my last two answers and lifted a hesitant finger. "I'm done. I think I'm done. I hope I haven't made any mistakes. Perhaps I should go through and check my answers again." "Just carry on and complete your registration," said Nathan. "It doesn't matter if you've made a mistake, because you can always ask a Game Tech to correct it later." I took a deep breath, confirmed my registration, and a wild surge of emotion hit me. Jex of the silver, feathered hair was real now. She was in Game, still sleeping, waiting for me to wake her, waiting for me to become her. "I'm registered with Game," I said, my voice shaking. "Congratulations," said Nathan. "I'm sorry you aren't doing this too. It's not fair." He shook his head. "Working here with Game texts, learning all about Game design, is an incredible opportunity. It has to improve my chances of eventually being recruited as a Game Tech." I thought Nathan would be recruited as soon as he entered Game. The Game Techs surely wouldn't want to leave him running round as a player for even a few days when he knew so many Game secrets. I daren't say that, because I mustn't risk raising any false hopes. I just smiled and stood up. We went out of Nathan's apartment, and headed down the corridor to an anonymous, white room. I expected to find Michael waiting for me, but there was only a doctor's medical droid standing next to two freezer units. I'd spent the last year riding patrol in the body stacks. Red Sector Block 2 had held ten million freezer units just like the ones in front of me. Now I was going inside one myself. I'd been dreaming of this moment all my life, but I still felt a last minute shiver of apprehension. I remembered Michael saying he'd had last minute doubts about entering Game for the ten year trial, and a lot of the other volunteers had backed out entirely. I could understand that. If I was uneasy about stepping into a freezer unit now, people must have been terrified back then. Four hundred years ago, no one knew if the Game was safe or not. No one knew if the primitive freezer units would work, or if they'd destroy the minds and bodies they were supposed to preserve. "Nervous?" asked a voice from behind me. Michael had arrived. I turned round to face him. At this instant, he was still Michael, but this was probably the last time I'd ever see him like that. The doctor was waiting expectantly, and the last few seconds were ticking away for me and Michael. "A bit nervous," I said. Michael nodded. "I'll stay with you while you start the freezing process, and then catch up with you in Game. Cassandra has been talking to the Ganymede Admission Committee. They've rushed through accepting you as a resident, so you should be waking up in your new house there." He went across to the nearer freezer unit, and stood by the open lid. We had an audience of a doctor and Nathan watching us, which ruled out any dramatic last words or kisses. I went over to the freezer unit, clambered awkwardly inside, and sat down. The doctor checked the freezer unit controls, and started going through the final checklist before freezing me. "No metal items in your pockets, Jex?" "They're empty." I tugged them inside out to prove it. "You aren't wearing any jewellery?" "No jewellery." The doctor waved a scanner at me anyway. Medical rules stated that multiple checks had to be made on these things, because body contact with metal objects could cause horrendous damage during the freezing process. The doctor's droid head finally nodded approval. "Please lie back and relax." I lay down, and shuffled to get comfortable. Michael and Nathan moved to stand, side by side, next to my freezer unit. Michael was smiling down at me. Nathan looked understandably wistful. "Goodbye." I aimed the word at Nathan, but it was really for Michael. I'd be able to call Nathan and talk to him from within Game, but Michael was vanishing forever. What would happen when Michael was the glittering legendary Hawk again? Would he still be interested in me, or had everything that happened between us just been a brief aberration? Part of a strange, vulnerable time when he'd returned to being the boy from four hundred years ago? Once he was a Founder Player again, Hawk might get caught up in his old life, and forget that he'd ever shared a clumsy kiss with a girl from the body stacks. The transparent lid was closed on top of me, and my vision grew hazy as the gases were pumped in. During my training as a medical cadet, I'd learned about every step of the freezing process, but it was still weird to have it happening to me. I'd constantly imagined my first entry into Game, playing it through a thousand times, but none of them had been like this. I'd expected to be frozen in a medical unit, and for my freezer unit to be transferred to a short stay storage area until I was past the period of defrosting to work or to have babies. I'd never expected to enter Game from a freezer unit in a United Law facility. I'd never expected a Founder Player to be standing next to me in his physical body, smiling at me as the gases took effect and my eyelids drooped and closed. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Twenty-three –––––––– People spoke of strange experiences as they made the transition into Game. While some felt nothing at all, a few were aware of a chilling blackness, while others had curious and very vivid dreams. In my case, I was alone on a vast, grey, featureless plain. There was no one in sight, but I could hear the faint whispering of voices. I stood on the plain, unable to move, for about thirty seconds, and then suddenly I was in a room in Game. I could tell from the design of the room, the shape of the doorways, and the mauve mistiness of the air that this was a house on Ganymede. I was arriving at my new home there as Hawk had promised. For the next second or two, I still couldn't move, but then I was stepping forward. It was almost like moving in real life, except for a feeling of lightness and well being. I felt as if I would be able to run endlessly and never tire. I gasped in exhilaration, and was instantly struck by the smell and taste of the air. I'd studied a host of images of Ganymede, but hadn't known that the air here would have its own scent, a distinctive mixture of flowers, spices, and salt. For a second, it confused me, but then I accepted it as part of the uniqueness of Ganymede. I looked down at myself, and saw I was wearing the blue and silver sleeveless dress I'd chosen for my entry to Game. I lifted my left arm and studied it. The bar code had gone, and instead, spiralling up my forearm, there was a bronze bracelet. Soft, apparently part of my skin, but shining brightly. I ran the fingers of my right hand over it with a smile, and indulged myself by just looking at it for a few minutes. The bracelet summed up everything. After all the years of dreaming and planning, I was really here in Game. There was an ornate wooden chair standing next to me. I reached out to feel the cool solidness of wood, the smooth polished surface, and the intricate grooves of the pattern carved into it. I was used to the battered plastic furniture in my old room, and now I had furniture modelled on real life antiques. I found myself laughing in an odd mixture of delight and bewilderment. A soft, automated voice spoke from the air above me. "Player Jex Thorpe Leigh Grantham, resident of Ganymede, you have a player requesting Game world transfer into your home. Do you accept the Game world transfer request from player Hawk, resident of Celestius?" "Yah," I said. I waited, but nothing happened. The voice spoke again. "Response not recognized. Do you accept the Game world transfer request?" I realized I needed to use the formal Game commands I'd been taught in school. "Game command. Accept Game world transfer request." There was a delay of about a minute, and then Hawk appeared next to me, motionless and blank eyed. I stared at him, worried that something was wrong, and then worked out he was still in Game world transfer from his home on Celestius. The process only lasted a second longer. I could tell the instant he truly arrived, because his handsome face filled with life. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and turned to smile at me. "It feels good to be back in Game." His smile widened as he inspected me. "I like the hair." I blushed guiltily at Hawk's words. "I planned my Game appearance a long time ago. I like feathered hair. I wasn't copying yours." "I know." He walked round me, studying me from all sides. "This suits you. The essence of your own face is still there. Many people make the mistake of losing their original selves entirely. I did that with Hawk, making him everything that Michael wasn't. Cassandra was much wiser; her Game face was just a more perfect version of her own younger self." He shrugged one shoulder in his distinctive way. "It took me decades to understand the full importance of rooting your Game appearance in reality. Game is just a fantasy, a living dream. Your Game persona is a thin layer of illusion, masking your true self that was shaped by experiences in the real world. You have to hold on to that true self, or you'll stop being a person at all, and a vital part of that is seeing something of your real face when you look in the mirror. By the time I had the sense to appreciate that, it was rather too late to change my face to look more like Michael." I shook my head. "I think there's more of Michael's face in Hawk than you realize. Michael's got black hair too. His eyes aren't as dark as Hawk's, but there's a lot of resemblance in the facial shape and expressions." Hawk sighed. "I hate it that I can't properly savour this moment with you, but I need to have a quick conference with Kwame, catch up on Game news with Cassandra, and then make a broadcast to the players. Do you mind if I do that here?" "Of course not. You do what you need to do. I'll wander round the room and get used to being my real self at last." I looked round the room as I spoke, and had a breathless moment as I saw that translucent drapes were drawn across what had to be a large window. I only needed to draw back those drapes and I'd see the sky that I'd dreamed of for so long. I made an instinctive movement towards them, and then stopped. No, let the drapes stay closed for now. My dreams of entering Game hadn't been of looking at Ganymede's sky through a window, but standing outside and looking up at the magnificence of Jupiter overhead. "Perhaps after your broadcast, we could go outside together, admire the sky, walk on the beach, and ..." I broke off, because I was assuming too much. I had to remember I was talking to Hawk now, not Michael. "The first time that you look up at Jupiter is unforgettable," Hawk said. "I'd love to share that with you." While Hawk had been studying me, I'd been absorbing his appearance too. I'd seen a host of Game images of Hawk and thought they were realistic. I'd seen a controlled droid walking bearing his image, and thought that was stunningly accurate too. Now I could see that both those things had just been pale reflections of the original. Hawk's face was constantly changing expression, each feathered hair on his head lifted and shifted delicately with every step he took, and the exuberant movements of his body were filled with personality. His clothes, layers of glittering black gauze worn over the top of silver chain mail, were totally different to the neat blue tailored outfit portrayed by the droid, and as his left sleeve shifted I caught a glimpse of the dazzling diamond bracelet that marked him out as a Founder Player. "Game command. Request Game Tech assistance," said Hawk. Kwame appeared, looking even more startlingly different than Hawk. Previously, I'd only seen Kwame as a standard Game droid with a mask-like image of a face. Now he was fully human and was wearing a Game Tech uniform, the badge golden to match the golden insignia on his face. "I'd like a similar console setup to the one I use at home," said Hawk. "Please put it over in the corner out of the way. I shouldn't clutter up Jex's new house." Hawk pointed to a corner of the room, and it suddenly had a set of screens hanging in thin air, with a carefully placed chair in front of them. I was startled to see these weren't modern screens, but dreamlike, surreal representations of ancient computer equipment from four centuries ago. I frowned. The diamond bracelet on Hawk's arm was a symbol of the status gap between us, and these screens were an uncomfortable reminder of the difference in our ages. "Thank you," said Hawk. "Now we need to discuss the details of my broadcast. I feel we still can't tell the general player population that a Game Tech was involved in the bombing. In fact, I think we'll need to keep that secret permanently, because destroying the players' trust in Game Techs would leave them living in fear." Kwame nodded. "The Game Techs strongly agree with you on this point." "I haven't even told Cassandra that the bomber was a Game Tech," said Hawk. "I hate lying to her, but I also know just how much the truth would scare her. It was frightening enough for me, thinking about how a Game Tech could turn the ground beneath my feet into molten lava, but I had the option to leave Game. Cassandra is trapped here, because she'll die if she tries to defrost." I stood there watching Hawk talk. Half of my mind was listening to his words, while the rest of it was still absorbing the multiple differences between being in the real world and being in Game. I'd found Hawk's clothes confusing at first. The flimsy, multi-layered black robe, shot through with glittering threads, had seemed curiously impractical for Hawk the Unvanquished. Now I realized that it could be shrugged off in a second to leave him free for action in the silver chain mail. I was fascinated by that chain mail. As Hawk moved, the robe drifted to reveal shimmering areas of intertwined silver links that clung tightly to him, as flexible as a second skin. I couldn't help wondering whether the chain mail felt hard or soft. I was tempted to reach out and ... "Jex," said Hawk. I jumped guiltily, thinking for a second I'd not just thought about the action, but actually touched him. "I'd like your opinion of this too. I can't tell the player population the full truth, but I need to say something to boost their confidence. We've made progress. Harper is far less dangerous as a player than he was as a Game Tech. The situation has improved, and I need to find a way to convey that improvement to the players." Hawk paused. "I'm thinking of telling people that Tomath was the one organizing the bombings. He's now dead in the real world, but we're still searching for his accomplice, the Reaper, who helped with minor jobs." I blinked. "You're planning to reverse the truth, claim that Tomath was the bomber and the Reaper just helped out with minor jobs? Isn't that likely to annoy the Reaper?" Hawk grinned. "I'm hoping it won't just annoy the Reaper, but make him so furiously angry that he can't resist attacking me." I chose my words carefully. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. The Reaper may have changed himself from a Game Tech to a player, but he'll still be dangerous." "The Reaper has hidden himself among fifty billion players," said Hawk. "We seem to have no way to track him down, so the only way forward is to provoke him into doing something that gives away his new identity." "Yah," I said doubtfully, then remembered I was a player in Game now and should speak properly. "I mean, yes," I hastily corrected myself, "but using yourself as bait to lure him out is asking for trouble." "The Reaper shouldn't be able to bomb server complexes any longer, so he can't crash the Game world that I'm visiting. He can't get through the security at the United Law facility to harm my freezer unit either. If there's no way for him to attack me in the real world, he'll have to attack me in Game, and I'm a legendary fighter." I groaned. "I still think this is a bad idea." Hawk waved both hands, palms upwards. "Cassandra told us that the players are getting hysterical. I have to tell them something reassuring. They'll be a lot happier if I say that the bomber is dead, and we just have to tidy up the loose end of finding his accomplice in Game." "Exactly what are you planning to tell the players about Tomath?" asked Kwame. "It would be unwise to add further fuel to the existing anger against teenagers in the real world." "There was a point when Jex, Nathan, and I thought that the bomber might be a player in Game who was a current or past member of a server complex maintenance team," said Hawk. "I can use that idea now." "This version of events seems highly preferable to publicizing the truth," said Kwame. "I'll just give a bare outline of the story in this broadcast," said Hawk. "We can tell people more details later, when we've had time to think through any flaws in the story and come up with a convincing motive for Tomath attacking Game worlds." He moved across to the screens. "I need to talk to Cassandra now." Kwame nodded. "Please request the assistance of a Game Tech when you are ready to make the broadcast." Kwame vanished into thin air. I pictured him reappearing in a mysterious backstage area of Ganymede, accessible only to the Game Techs. I found myself imagining those areas as being like the dream I'd had entering Game. Grey and featureless places. Hawk sat down at his screens, waved a hand, and Cassandra appeared beside him. Not the full Cassandra, just an image of her head and upper body, floating in midair. "I've prepared a condensed version of the main Game news stories for you," she said. Text started rolling down one of the screens, and Hawk leaned forward to study it. "What's the general Game mood now?" "The players are deeply worried about the situation, sympathetic to their hero Hawk, eagerly anticipating what you have to say." Hawk concentrated on the text floating past his eyes for a moment longer, and then his face suddenly changed. "I don't believe this! One, two, three ..." When he finished counting to ten, he started swearing, using archaic words that no longer carried much meaning. After a few seconds, he got control back, and looked first at me and then at the image of Cassandra. "Sorry about the language." I laughed. "I didn't understand most of it. These days everyone tends to say wrecked, or shout about Behemoth's backside, or something more ..." I coughed. Cassandra smiled. "The Sisterhood of Celestius should make you wash your mouth out with soap, Hawk, but I understand your reaction. I'm as appalled as you by what's been happening." Hawk stood up. "I know you told me people were hysterical, but how could they behave like this?" "The situation exploded after you defrosted," Cassandra said. "I made an appeal for calm, but was ignored. You couldn't do anything from outside Game, and I couldn't drag you back here when you were in the middle of chasing the bomber." I'd no idea what was going on, but I could hardly interrupt an intense conversation between two legends of the Game and demand explanations. Things would surely become clear soon. "This is my fault," said Hawk. "I told you to announce I'd defrosted to chase the bomber in real life. The population of Game would have taken that as confirmation real life teenagers were responsible for the bombings." "The situation was already out of control before that," said Cassandra, "and anyway you aren't responsible for the actions of other players." Hawk ignored her. "Game command. Request Game Tech assistance. Kwame, get back here right now!" Kwame appeared and gave him a reproving look. "You wish the assistance of an appropriate Game Tech?" "I wish to strangle someone," said Hawk. "I've just discovered why you said it would be unwise to add further fuel to the existing anger against teenagers in the real world. How did the Game Techs let things get this bad? Witch hunts in Game!" I blinked. What did Hawk mean by witch hunts? "Emotions ran very high at the Avalon memorial service," said Kwame. "Every player in Game was watching it, and unfortunate things were said by survivors who were mourning their dead friends and lovers." "Fifty billion frightened and angry people, Hawk," said Cassandra. "They felt the investigations weren't achieving anything, and the calls for revenge at the Avalon memorial service made some of them decide to take action themselves. Since the bombing was in the real world ..." "So this was just like the panic mass arrest of kids from the body stacks," Hawk's voice was icy with anger. "If you can't get the real bomber, then pick a random target for your rage. Attack the new players who've recently entered the Game." He shook his head. "Simple logic should tell everyone that those new players must have entered Game before the Leebrook Ashton bill raised the age for entering Game to nineteen. That means they were in Game themselves when the bombing happened, but logic doesn't matter here. The new players have come from the real world, they symbolize the place that hurt you, so hurl your accusations, insults and stones at them anyway!" I understood what this was about now. People were being attacked. People who'd recently entered Game. People like me! | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Twenty-four –––––––– Hawk glared at Kwame. "Why didn't the Game Techs stop this?" "We did everything we could," said Kwame. "Initially, only a few new players were being targeted, and we allocated them Game Tech bodyguards. After the speeches at the Avalon memorial, events suddenly escalated." He waved one hand in a gesture of helplessness. "Every player wearing a bronze bracelet was suffering abuse or worse. Official announcements condemning the behaviour and threatening punishments for the guilty parties had little effect. It was impossible to allocate Game Techs to guard every player wearing a bronze bracelet, especially when our top priority had to be making changes vital to the safety of Game." "Why didn't you just change all the bronze bracelets into silver?" demanded Hawk. "That solution was considered. The sole reason players wear a bronze bracelet for their first year in Game is to let other players know they are new to Game and may need assistance. We decided against changing the bracelets. We were concerned it would just increase the problem by making those wearing silver bracelets into targets as well." Kwame paused. "I assure you that all those wearing bronze bracelets are now safe from harm." "Safe, yes," said Hawk. "With a choice of being kept under voluntary house arrest for their own protection, or moving to live on a prison world with their fellow social outcasts." "Indigo is a very beautiful Game world," said Kwame. "These people have the chance to visit a world that would not normally be open to players until the next Game Anniversary, and the Game Techs patrolling there are not prison warders but ensuring their safety." "Indigo may be positively idyllic," said Hawk, "but it doesn't change the fact that the new players have been driven into hiding there by an angry mob. I've learned a lot about the lives kids lead these days. They spend the first ten years of their lives living in dormitories. If they're lucky, they'll get a call from a parent in Game every week or two which gives them limited protection, but many are totally ignored and an easy target for bullying older children." "It is unfortunate that ..." Kwame's attempt to speak was drowned out as Hawk ranted on. "At ten years old, they have to leave school, find a place to live, and slave away working twelve-hour shifts every day. It's a harsh existence, and the only thing that keeps them going is their dreams of Game. They spend years planning their Game future, saving every credit they can towards their Game subscription. The new players in Game, the ones wearing bronze bracelets now, must have thought themselves so lucky. They'd just made it into Game before the Leebrook Ashton bill sentenced them to another year of drudgery. They had a few weeks or months in their longed for new homes, were living their dream at last, but now ..." Hawk shook his head. "One minute they had welcoming neighbours and people who were becoming new friends, the next everyone turned against them and they had to go into hiding on Indigo. Do you think they'll ever want to go back to their dream worlds after this? Do you think they'll want to live next door to the people who spat insults and threw stones at them? And what about Jex? She risked her life to keep the players in Game safe. It's obscene to think of those same players attacking her." Kwame kept warily quiet, and I was too shocked to speak. What Hawk had said about the refugees on Indigo was perfectly true. Their dream worlds would be forever soured for them, the mere mention of their names conjuring up horrible memories. I didn't want to feel that way about Ganymede. I'd spent so many years picturing my idyllic future here. It mustn't become a place like my old dormitory, remembered with a shudder of relief that I'd escaped it. I mustn't risk going out of my house, not even for a second. I rubbed my hand across my eyes. There'd been the intense strain of the last few days, the nervous high of waking up in Game, and now this hammer blow. I was feeling overwhelmed by it all. "We can inform all Ganymede residents that Jex is here by your personal recommendation, Hawk," said Cassandra. "No, we can't," said Hawk. "When we arranged for Jex to be given resident status on Ganymede, we swore the members of the Admission Committee to secrecy about her connection to me." I frowned. Hawk hadn't told me that particular detail. "Admission Committee members see lots of confidential information on players' applications for residence," Hawk continued. "They're used to keeping secrets, but we can't expect the whole population of Ganymede to be that discreet. If we tell them that Jex is here by my recommendation, the story will be on every Game news channel within minutes, and the Reaper will see it. There's no point in stopping people throwing rocks at Jex if it means inviting the Reaper to come to Ganymede and do something far worse." "The protective measures you requested for Player Jex have already been put into place," said Kwame. "It would also be possible to change her bracelet from bronze to silver. Making that change for a single player would have no negative consequences." "Protecting Jex isn't enough." Hawk turned to face Cassandra. "Do you remember lecturing me centuries ago, Cassandra? I'd been whining about how I'd been bullied as a boy in real life, and you told me that I had the chance to do something about that now. You said that the Founder Players had been given a powerful position in Game, and I could use that power to help people who were suffering from bullying or other injustice. That hit home. I've tried to have Hawk help people whenever possible, and we need to help all the new players now." "I totally agree," said Cassandra. "The player population wouldn't listen to the Game Techs, they wouldn't listen to me, but they may listen to you, Hawk. There's now less than five minutes to go before your broadcast." Hawk hesitated. "I can think of one thing I could say to help the new players, but I'm worried it might cause other problems. No, now I stop to think about it, I've already caused those problems." He slapped his forehead with his right hand. "It was a mistake to tell people that I'd defrosted. It was an even worse mistake to tell them I'd been wounded. I should think harder before I open my big mouth." "You have four minutes to think hard before you open your big mouth," said Cassandra calmly. "Are you broadcasting from Jex's home, or coming back to Celestius?" "I don't think I should broadcast at all," said Hawk. "I need to discuss something with Jex. Can we delay this an hour?" "Do I really need to answer that?" asked Cassandra. Hawk groaned. "I'll broadcast from here. Kwame, can you make it look like I'm on Celestius?" One wall of the room turned brilliant white, and then showed an image of a marble tower. "Three minutes," said Cassandra. Hawk went to stand in front of the tower. Suddenly it wasn't just an image, the tower seemed to be physically present, appearing through the floor of the room and continuing up through the ceiling. There was an elegant balcony encircling the tower, and Hawk was standing on it. "Game broadcast channel is now open," said Kwame. "We're running Cassandra's pre-recorded introduction." "Two minutes," said Cassandra. "I hate making broadcasts. I hate it. I always hate it," complained Hawk. "Why me? Why do you people always pick on me? Why can't you let me stick to killing monsters?" I stared at him, drawn out of my personal misery for a moment by the shock of seeing Hawk totally lose his calm assurance. Cassandra smiled at me. "Hawk always gets last minute nerves before making a broadcast. One minute." Hawk buried his face in his hands for thirty seconds, then smoothed his feathered hair into place, and shook his robe into position. He took a deep breath. "Three, two, one." Cassandra gave a nod. Hawk looked perfectly calm and relaxed now. "Hello, everyone. I apologize that you haven't had an update from me for a while. Cassandra has already told you that I'd defrosted to chase the bomber. I can now tell you that there were actually two people involved in the Avalon world crash. The bomber had an accomplice helping him with the simpler, menial jobs." Hawk paused for a second. "The bomber was a lifetime subscription holder who'd been in Game for over three centuries. He'd originally done work involving explosives, before moving to work on a server complex maintenance team, so he was able to use his old knowledge to crash Avalon. The accomplice was another lifetime subscription holder, who was hiding his true identity behind the ludicrous name of the Reaper." I blinked. Hawk was obviously determined to make the Reaper as angry as possible. "When I got close to catching the bomber in Game," said Hawk, "he defrosted to hide in the real world, and gave himself a new identity as a man called Tomath. I defrosted too, returning to the real world for the first time in four centuries to chase him down." Hawk gave a rueful laugh. "Maybe I shouldn't have run off and defrosted like that, but I had two teenagers assisting me in the real world. The plan for hunting down the bomber involved one of them taking huge risks. I felt I couldn't stay safely in Game while that was happening, so I went along to help." I was still shocked after hearing about the witch hunts. Now I had something new to worry about. I hadn't expected Hawk to mention me or Nathan in this broadcast. How would that affect my situation? "The plan was that we'd get ourselves recruited to help with the next bombing," said Hawk. "I doubt that we could have fooled Tomath into recruiting us, but fortunately his accomplice, the Reaper, is far less intelligent, suffering from massive ego problems and delusions of being the rightful ruler of Game." I pictured how the Reaper would feel listening to this broadcast, and choked. "Not so fortunately, the Reaper's twisted fantasies meant I had to act a part I hated and do dreadful things to please him." Hawk grimaced. "I thought for a while that I'd killed my own assistant, not a Game death but a real death, and I've never felt so devastated in my whole life." Cassandra's image had been watching Hawk, but now I saw her head turn sharply to look at me instead. Hawk had said the experience of being in a Game body matched real life very closely these days. He was right. I could feel myself growing hot with embarrassment at the curiosity in Cassandra's eyes. I forced myself to concentrate on what Hawk was saying. "Well, the plan worked. The Reaper recruited me, and sent me off to collect the bombs from Tomath and plant them at a server complex." Hawk spoke in a voice of self-mockery. "You should have seen me back then. Imagine my nerves in case I dropped a bomb. Imagine my joy when I was finally able to dump them. I was just running away when the bomber decided to blow them up and get rid of me." He paused. "I survived, but the bomber was less lucky. He didn't know that I'd planted one of his own bombs in his room. When he detonated the bombs I was carrying, the bomb in his room exploded too. Tomath was killed, and I'm not crying about that." He was silent for a moment before speaking again. "I'm back in Game now and hunting Tomath's accomplice. The Reaper isn't nearly as dangerous as Tomath was, but he still has to be dealt with as soon as possible." Hawk's expression hardened into something cold and grim. "I've one final point to make. Everyone has been understandably distressed and angry about the deaths during the Avalon world crash. Some people have been venting their anger in exactly the wrong direction, attacking the players wearing bronze bracelets. Let me say this one more time to make it absolutely clear. Tomath was a lifetime subscription holder wearing a gold bracelet. The Reaper is a lifetime subscription holder wearing a gold bracelet." Hawk's voice carried an open threat now. "Spread the word that new players in bronze bracelets are to be treated with every respect from now on. One of my assistants nearly died while helping me trap the bomber and make you safe. She's in Game right now, and she's wearing a bronze bracelet. My other assistant will be entering Game soon as well, and he too will be wearing a bronze bracelet. If anyone tries insulting or harming either of them, they'll find themselves in combat with Hawk the Unvanquished!" Now I understood why Hawk had been talking about me and Nathan in his broadcast. He was using us to make life safe again for all the new players. "I should have a lot more information for you in my next broadcast," said Hawk, in a friendlier voice, "but that's all for now." Hawk stood there for a few seconds longer, then the marble tower disappeared and my room returned to normal. "We're done," said Cassandra. Hawk stretched his arms out wide, then let them fall to his side with a sigh. "I hate giving speeches. How did it go? Big audience?" "That is correct," said Kwame. "Estimated at over forty-eight billion." "What were the other couple of billion doing?" Hawk asked, in mock complaint. "Initial reactions?" The image of Cassandra showed her holding an elegant hand mirror, and reading the text flowing down it. "I'm scanning the main Game forums now. There's a whole torrent of comments coming in. People are pleased. Feeling a lot safer now. They liked the personal adventure element. Everyone is taking note of the point that both Tomath and the Reaper were lifetime subscription holders. I'm seeing rapid changes of attitude to players in bronze bracelets, and some guilt about the way they've been treated. There's a lot of speculation about your mysterious assistant who nearly died, and jokes about the danger of having to fight Hawk the Unvanquished. People are definitely taking that threat seriously." "Good," said Hawk. "I want them to take it seriously. I want everyone who's been harassing the new players to picture Hawk appearing in front of them, brandishing a two-handed sword." Cassandra's smile hovered on the brink of laughter, and I could see why it fascinated people. "I'm afraid people want to watch the replays of you chasing the bomber." "Replays?" Hawk choked. "What replays? This happened in real life, not Game. It wasn't automatically recorded to be played back for an audience, and I certainly don't want the whole of Game watching surveillance footage of the mighty Michael!" "I'm sure the Game Techs could modify the images to enhance Michael's appearance a little," said Cassandra. "A little? They'd have to enhance it an awful lot." Hawk literally cringed at the idea. "I couldn't say in the broadcast that the bomber's second attack was targeting Celestius. It wouldn't have been fair to let the family hear the news from a general broadcast, especially when they might be away from Celestius so outsiders could see their reaction. I have to tell the family first and then include it in my next broadcast." Kwame frowned. "Is it wise to make that information public?" Hawk gave him a frosty look. "I'm not keeping it from my family. They have a right to know they may be in specific danger. I hope and believe that we're safe from more bombings, and the Celestius server complex is now under constant Unilaw guard like Avalon, but the Reaper is in Game and might attack Founder Players." "But ..." Kwame began. "Whether Hawk chooses to make a general announcement or not," interrupted Cassandra, "I will definitely inform the family. Under these circumstances, many of the Sisterhood may wish to stay in safety in Celestius. Few of us are skilled in fighting, or take the pain of Game deaths lightly, and there could be other unpleasantness as well." Kwame sighed. "Very well. I agree the Founder Players should be informed of the attempt against Celestius, but does the whole population of Game have to know?" Hawk shrugged. "You should know that Caesar and Blades can't keep secrets. Once they hear about this, the rest of Game will know it within five minutes. Is the Amphitheatre free at the moment?" "It has been kept free in case it was required for your broadcast," said Kwame. "Then I'm calling a family meeting," said Hawk. "Cassandra, can you tell everyone that we're meeting at the Amphitheatre in two hours' time, so I can tell them news of the utmost importance." "I can get them there sooner than that if you want," said Cassandra. "No, I need the two hours for something else." Hawk smiled at me. "Jex and I are going outside so she can get her first view of Ganymede's sky." Cassandra had just said there was a lot of speculation on Game forums about Hawk's mysterious assistant who'd nearly died. The second people saw me with Hawk, they'd guess I was that assistant. Images of me would be shown on every news channel, and there'd be a storm of gossip about my relationship to Hawk. I wasn't ready to cope with that. There was the problem of the Reaper too. I seized on that excuse to delay things. "If you want to hide your connection to me from the Reaper, then it's a bad idea for us to be seen together. I'd rather wait a few days to make sure that the problems for new players are over before going outside anyway. There's no rush to see the sky." "Oh yes there is," said Hawk. "You've been looking forward to seeing Ganymede's sky for years, Jex, and you aren't going to wait any longer. Since you're a potential target for the Reaper, the Game Techs have taken special measures to protect you, including putting your house on its own private beach. That means you don't have to worry about hostile neighbours, and if a wandering shell collector does happen to stumble on this beach then ..." He shook off his black robe, revealing the shimmering chain mail underneath, and raised his right hand. "Durendal!" he ordered. Durendal, the great blade that Hawk had wielded to slay the Kraken, flew out of the sheath strapped across his back. The sword hovered in midair above him, Hawk took hold of its hilt, and his dark eyes laughed at me. "No one will dare to harm you, Jex. Not when you have a legendary warrior guarding you." | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Twenty-five –––––––– I lay on the fine sand of Ganymede's shoreline, gazing up through the misty air at the vastness of Jupiter filling the sky. Its swirling storms glowed with multicoloured light, in an ever-changing kaleidoscope of patterns. Jupiter was both terrifyingly menacing and stunningly beautiful. "I've seen hundreds of images of Ganymede's sky, but actually lying here and looking up at Jupiter is overwhelming. It's like I'm not just seeing it, but physically feeling its presence." Hawk was standing next to me, watching my expression and smiling. He was still holding his sword, Durendal, the naked blade gleaming red as it reflected the light of Jupiter. "Ganymede is one of the worlds that players either love or hate," he said. "It all depends on whether you find the massive bulk of Jupiter hovering over your head glorious or horrifying. Some people take one look at the sky and instantly decide to leave. Others want to stay forever." He paused. "Do you find Jupiter glorious or horrifying, Jex?" "This will sound silly," I said, "but I don't know. When I look up at Jupiter, I'm not sure if I'm trembling with delight or with fear, and somehow the contradiction adds to the fascination." "Yes!" Hawk made a flourishing gesture with Durendal that would have impressed even Falcon, before sheathing the sword and lying down on the sand beside me. "I understand exactly what you're saying. When I look up at Jupiter, I feel the same mixture of joy and panic that I feel going into battle against a vast Game creature like the Kraken." He gave a joyous laugh. "I suspected you would feel that too. The first time I saw you, when you were being questioned at that Unilaw facility, you grabbed my attention. All the other kids, even Nathan, were tongue tied with fear, but you kept arguing your cause. I could see from your face that you were just as scared as the others, but in you the fear was blended with anger in the distinctive mix that makes a true fighter." I turned my head towards him, and found myself gazing straight into his intent, dark eyes. He smiled, but I could feel myself growing hot with embarrassment, so I hastily stared upwards at Jupiter again. "I've always had an anger problem," I said. "I've fought against it all my life, tried to train myself to keep my temper under control, but it's still got me into trouble several times over the years. Back when I was six years old, I lost my temper with the dormitory bullies, flew at them in anger, and got a blow to my forehead that put me in hospital for two days. Look!" I pointed out the faint white line just below my hairline, and Hawk propped himself up on one elbow as he turned to examine it. "You chose to keep the real life scar on your Game face?" "Yah. I mean, yes. Every time I look in the mirror, I see the scar, and tell myself it's better to think things through than blindly lose my temper." "Does that work?" I was intensely aware of his face being close to mine, and wondered if he was planning to kiss me. "You should know that it doesn't. Remember how I screamed at you about the black mark on my record that had destroyed my Game future? Remember how I lost my temper with Falcon and threatened to cut his ears off? When I was arrested and questioned about the bombing, I was lucky that I was too scared to lose my temper." "I hope you aren't angry with me about what I said in my broadcast," said Hawk. "I knew I should have discussed it with both you and Nathan first, but there wasn't time." His face moved away from mine, and he lay back on the sand again. I was both relieved and disappointed. It occurred to me that I had the same contradictory feelings about Hawk as I did about Jupiter. "I understood exactly why you mentioned us," I said. "The whole of Game was watching that broadcast, so you had the perfect opportunity to change people's attitudes to the new players. It worked. Now everyone's feeling guilty about how the new players have been treated, so it should be safe for the refugees to leave Indigo. A lot of them won't want to go back to their old homes, but decide to make a new start elsewhere in Game, and hopefully the guilt reaction will mean they're near the top of the queue for resident status on worlds instead of last in line." I paused to laugh. "I've just realized that I haven't looked at my own new house yet. When I stepped outside, the sight of Jupiter was so mesmerizing that I just rushed to the beach and lay down to look at the sky." I stood up and turned to look at my house. It was how I'd always pictured it, a graceful seashell shape, woven in mauve and white spider silk, with a pink flowered creeper climbing up one side. I spent a full minute admiring the house before I turned again to look at the view along the bay. The sea glittered in ever-shifting shades of red and mauve, with a fringe of white foam where waves were hitting the beach. The sand was white too, but with a hint of delicate pink. I noticed another house further along the beach, frowned, and pointed at it. "I thought you said this was a private beach, so why is there another house here?" Hawk stood up too, his face flushed with embarrassment. "That house is mine. Founder Players have castles on Celestius, but we're allowed to have ordinary houses on three other worlds as well. I wouldn't want to force my company on you, so I wouldn't live in that house except at your invitation, but I need to have a house here so I can reach this place quickly. The Game Techs have set this beach up as a restricted destination, so only residents can request teleport or world transfer here." "That's another protective measure because I might be a target for the Reaper?" "Yes. It's not totally impossible for someone to walk here, but it would take them a long time." I shook my head. "Are these precautions really necessary?" "Definitely. My plan is to do everything I can to anger the Reaper, and then parade myself around Game in the hope that he can't resist attacking me. The Game Techs will be watching and waiting for that to happen. When the Reaper attacks, they'll just need a minute or two to work out his new identity number, and after that the Reaper is doomed. Whether I kill him in the fight and he resurrects, or I take him prisoner, or he manages to kill me, it will make no difference. The Game Techs will be able to track him anywhere he goes, and arrange to teleport him into a Game prison." Hawk paused. "The one big flaw in my plan is that the Reaper knows I've had four centuries of combat experience. Game Techs do test fights against Game creatures, but nothing to compare with the scale of fighting I've done. Basic common sense should tell the Reaper that attacking me will end in him getting captured, put on trial, and probably sentenced to be expelled from Game and executed in real life." "You're right. If the Reaper has any sense at all, he won't attack you." "My big worry is that I'll goad him into going for an alternative target instead, someone that he should be able to kill fast enough to escape before the Game Techs get his identity. If all the other Founder Players take refuge in Celestius, then the Reaper's obvious choice of an alternative target is you." I shook my head again. "I'm not important enough for the Reaper to risk attacking me." "Do you remember how I opened my big mouth and let the whole Game population know that Hawk had defrosted to chase the bomber and been wounded?" "Yes." "I was tired and in pain, so I didn't think through the consequences of saying that. It told the Reaper that Michael had really been Hawk, and since Hawk wouldn't casually cut a girl's throat in real life that meant Emma's murder had been faked." Hawk groaned. "Thanks to my stupidity, the Reaper knows that two people fooled him with a fake murder. Two people wrecked his plan to crash Celestius and kill hundreds of Founder Players. Two people drove him into giving up his Game Tech powers and becoming an ordinary player." He paused. "When we visited the bomb site, I kept introducing you and Nathan to people. The Reaper will have seen reports about that. He might even have had a controlled droid there himself, wearing a false face with bronze or silver status insignia, so he could enjoy viewing the havoc he'd caused in safe anonymity." I thought of all the droids at the bomb site, imagined one of them being controlled by the Reaper, and pictured him watching Hawk, Nathan, and me. "Ugh." "The Reaper will have worked out that if Michael was me, then Emma must have been my assistant, Jex. He'll hate you nearly as much as he hates me." I imagined the Reaper searching for me, finding me, and coming to inflict the most painful Game death he could on me. I sat down on the sand again, reached out my hand to pick up a tiny shell, intricately patterned in ivory and mauve, and stared fixedly at it so that Hawk wouldn't see the fear in my face. "So I'm supposed to stay hiding alone on this beach?" "I'd prefer us to either be here together, or travelling together, most of the time," said Hawk. "If the Reaper tries attacking us, then I can defend you. The problem is that I'll sometimes need to go to places where you can't accompany me. Family meetings are traditionally held in the Amphitheatre rather than on Celestius itself, but they're strictly private." He sat next to me. "When I have to be away, then I want this beach to be a safe hiding place where the Reaper can't find you." I didn't like Hawk's assumption that I was a poor defenceless creature that had to be hidden away from the Reaper. My fear changed into anger, and I dropped my shell back on to the sand and turned to look Hawk in the eyes. "Would it really be such a bad thing if the Reaper found me?" Hawk gave me a disbelieving look. "Of course it would be a bad thing. If the Reaper attacked you, there'd be no way for you to escape. Game is designed to prevent players from using Game teleport or world transfer commands to leave a combat area. If people losing a fight could just run away in the middle, then all the Game duels and fights with monsters would just be a farce." "I know. Once the Reaper attacked me, I couldn't use a Game command to leave the combat area, but neither could he. I'd just need to stay alive for the minute or two it took the Game Techs to get his identity." "A minute is a very long time in a fight, Jex. An experienced fighter can kill a novice in a few seconds. The Reaper would kill you and escape before the Game Techs had a chance to find out his identity. You'd die pointlessly, and a player's first Game death is always a traumatic experience." "A Game death would hurt, but it wouldn't be permanent," I said, trying to convince myself as much as Hawk. "I'm the one playing bait to bring the Reaper out of hiding, not you," said Hawk flatly. "Game is designed to mirror the experiences of real life as closely as possible, so your Game death would be excruciatingly painful. Believe me, I know this only too well, because I've died a lot of times over the centuries." "Stop and think about this for a moment." "I don't need to think about it. You're an easy target. I'm not." "Which is exactly why my plan is better than yours. The Reaper isn't likely to risk attacking you, but he could be tempted to attack me. We just need to arrange for me to be out in public somewhere with Game Techs watching me, and have someone give away the fact I'm your assistant." I paused. "There'll be reports on all the Game news channels within minutes. The Reaper will see them and have to make a snap decision on whether he grabs his chance to attack me. If he believes the news has leaked accidentally, he'll think I'll be a quick, easy kill." "He'll be right too." "Not if Hawk the Unvanquished gives me combat lessons." Hawk actually stopped to consider that for a moment. "I'm sure I could train you to be a lethal sword fighter, but that would take months or years rather than weeks. However, I've just thought of a crucial point. You couldn't use Game commands to run away from your fight, but I could use them to join it." "So I'd just have to stay alive and fighting the Reaper long enough for you to arrive and help me kill him. How long would that take?" "Game world transfer involves extra delays while the system checks things like visitation rights," said Hawk, "so we'd have to set things up for me to be on the same world as you and use Game teleport to join you. I'd still take almost a full minute to go through the transition process though." He frowned. "Given the circumstances, we might be able to talk the Game Techs into giving you enhanced armour to help you stay alive in the fight until I join you. We can discuss this with Kwame after my family meeting. Let's get back to enjoying the view of Jupiter for now." We lay back on the sand again. I stared at the ever-changing storms of Jupiter, and tried to work out if I was pleased or terrified that Hawk was taking my suggestion of playing bait for the Reaper seriously now. At the moment, terrified seemed to be winning. A few minutes ago, I'd been explaining to Hawk how my anger had got me into trouble in the past. Now it had driven me into volunteering for something that I probably wouldn't be able to handle. "Did you know that I originally planned to call myself Hercules," said Hawk, "but someone else grabbed the name?" I grinned with relief at the change of subject. "Let me guess. Would that happen to have been the Founder Player called Hercules?" "Yes. We had to do a month of tests before we entered the Game. Hercules is a malicious person who likes making other people miserable, and he spent the entire month targeting me. We went through Game registration in alphabetical order, so he was ahead of me picking his Game name, and grabbed Hercules because he knew I wanted it. That left me with only a couple of minutes to choose myself a new name. The Game Company had been encouraging us to choose names out of old legends, preferably Greek or Roman, but my mind went a complete blank and I couldn't think of any of them. I decided to call myself Hawk as a temporary solution, but ended up keeping it." He laughed. "Hercules stole my name, and I've spent four hundred years beating him up in duels to punish him for it. He's refusing to fight me anymore. These days he just sends me messages saying 'Let's save time, Hawk. You win.'" "I don't blame Hercules for refusing to fight you," I said. "Hawk the Unvanquished is bound to defeat him every time." Hawk rolled on his side to face me, and put his arm round me. The links of his chain mail armour were surprisingly warm and soft against the bare skin of my arm. I was hit by a tense feeling that wasn't panic but was its very close relative. This wasn't Hawk as Michael. This was Hawk as I'd seen him receiving the champion's crown of the Battle Arena on Medieval, this was the Hawk who was the General of the army of Ruby on Civil War, this was the glittering hero who could take his pick of the twenty-five billion women in Game and couldn't possibly be interested in me. The glittering hero couldn't possibly be interested in me, but his hand was gently pulling me close to him. His lips pressed against mine, and I felt a dizzying mixture of fear and delight. Getting involved with Hawk was foolish, dangerous, and an utterly irresistible prospect. Hawk drew away again. "Jex," he murmured, "I know I promised I wouldn't rush things, but ..." He broke off because an automated voice was speaking from the air above us. "Player Hawk, resident of Celestius, you have an emergency priority incoming call from United Law facility 814. Do you accept the call?" "Why?" Hawk tipped back his head and yelled his frustration up at Jupiter. "Why now? Couldn't you have waited five more bleeping minutes before ...? Oh, all right. Game command. Accept call." Nathan's head and shoulders appeared, hovering in midair in front of us. I saw his eyebrows fly up in speculation as he saw us lying on the sand with Hawk's arm round me. "I'm sorry to interrupt you," he said. I hastily shuffled further away from Hawk, and felt his arm holding me back for a second before he groaned and let me go. "I'm sorry you interrupted us too, Nathan," said Hawk. "I don't suppose it can wait until later?" "Erm, not really. The Game investigation has asked me to tell you some very important news." "And it can't be good news, or they'd have told me themselves," said Hawk wearily. "What's happened now?" "The Game Techs have been checking up on Harper's recent actions," said Nathan. "You know that Game items, especially weapons, have different abilities added to them. To put it very simply, a sword has the ability to cut a player. A club has the ability to cause blunt trauma." "I know." Hawk sat up. "There were errors making weapons a few times, where the wrong ability got added to something. Hercules got hold of a dagger that didn't stab you, but hit you like a massive club. He nearly got me in that fight, but I managed to ... Anyway, I understand what you mean." "Well, all the standard items are made by an automated process," said Nathan, "but Game Techs also have a process that lets them make individual enhanced items with any of a huge list of useful abilities. Every item that's made that way is recorded on an audit trail, but there was no record of anything ever being made by Harper." I sat up too. "He must have made some items in four centuries. If there are no records left at all, then he must have deleted them to hide something." "Exactly," said Nathan, "but this time Harper missed something. He didn't know that Kwame's team had set up an automated process to make copies of key audit trails at random intervals. The Game Techs have been going through those old copies, and found one that shows Harper made some enhanced items a couple of days ago." "What sort of enhanced items?" asked Hawk. "One was a tracking item. The Game Techs use those to track the location of problem players as they move through Game. There was a weapon too. The audit trail was copied at the instant the weapon was completed, so it's impossible to tell if Harper made any other items after that." I didn't like the sound of this. I didn't like it at all. "Harper made these items a couple of days ago. By then, all the Game Techs had been told that one of their own people was involved in the bombing. Harper was getting worried, so he made himself these enhanced items in case he had to use his escape route and become a player. He'll have either found a way to take the items with him during his escape, or hidden them somewhere so he could collect them when he was a player." Hawk nodded. "We have to assume that Harper has all the items he made with him right now. I suppose the weapon has an exceptionally nasty ability." "Yah," said Nathan, in a despairing voice. "Since you can't make yourself say what that ability is," said Hawk. "I'm guessing that means it's the worst thing imaginable. Harper's got a weapon that can erase a player's mind from the Game." | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Twenty-six –––––––– "I'm afraid you're right," said Nathan miserably. "Harper made himself a deletion weapon." "What?" I shook my head in disbelief. "How is something like that possible? Why would the Game Techs have a process that can make weapons to delete players?" "Deletion weapons are designed to work on Game creatures not players," said Nathan. "When players lose a fight in a hunting zone, the zone is supposed to reset automatically after the last player in the combat area dies, and that reset dispels the monster. However, there's sometimes a glitch when a major monster kills multiple players simultaneously. The zone reset fails to happen, the monster stays active in the hunting zone, and any spectators are stuck there unable to leave. The simplest way to sort out the situation is to send in a Game Tech with a deletion weapon." He sighed. "One scratch from a deletion weapon is enough to deal with even the Behemoth. Unfortunately, it's relatively easy to modify a deletion weapon so it works on players as well as Game creatures." "Is it possible to track the location of this weapon?" I asked, without much hope. "Only a few very significant items, like the Monarch's Crown on Civil War, or Excalibur on Camelot, are designed so their location can be tracked within Game," said Nathan. I assumed that meant no. Hawk had buried his face in his hands. Now he looked up again, and shouted at the top of his voice. "Game command. Request Game Tech assistance. Kwame! Now!" A moment later, Kwame appeared in front of us. "Requesting the presence of a specific Game Tech by name is a severe breach of protocol." Hawk stood up and glared at him. "One of your Game Techs crashed Avalon, killed eleven thousand players, and is running amok in Game right now with a deletion weapon. Do you seriously want me to waste time discussing this situation with a random, bronze status Game Tech?" "Point," said Kwame. "However, using the phrase 'appropriate Game Tech assistance' would communicate the fact that your request was connected to the Reaper situation, and I would respond in my current role as crisis co-ordinator." Hawk didn't bother to reply to that. "The Reaper has an item that lets him track players in Game, and it's painfully obvious that he'll have been using it to track me. He'll have watched me appear in Game on Celestius. He'll have seen me use Game world transfer to come to Jex's house here on Ganymede. He'll know I'm on this beach right now. He could appear right in front of us at any moment." I pictured that happening, the Reaper appearing in front of us, and the combat that would follow. Hawk was a legend in Game, with four centuries of fighting experience, but it would only take one scratch from a deletion weapon and he'd be gone forever. I was glad that I was still sitting down, so I could force my hands deep into the sand to make sure they didn't tremble. "Only residents can teleport to this beach," said Kwame. "You just appeared here and you aren't a resident. Game Techs can use teleport to appear anywhere in Game. They can even enter houses without the owner's permission if a player's safety is thought to be at risk. Are you totally sure that the Reaper hasn't made himself an enhanced item that will let him do the same thing?" Kwame frowned. "We are confident that the Reaper cannot bypass the integral Game design measures controlling access to Game Tech areas and Celestius. Given the Reaper played a key part in the original design of the Game, it is hard to rule out the possibility of him having an enhanced item that gives him access to other areas." "Even if he can't teleport here, the Reaper could get here by walking, and I'll need to leave Jex alone soon to go to my family meeting." "I will arrange for a team of Game Techs to watch the house, the beach, and all approach routes," said Kwame. Hawk rubbed his forehead in the gesture that he only used when under extreme stress. "There's also the problem of what I say at the meeting. How can I explain to my family that the Reaper's got hold of a deletion weapon without admitting he's a rogue Game Tech?" Kwame started speaking but Hawk lifted a hand to stop him. "Don't try suggesting that we keep the existence of this weapon secret. I'm not letting my family roam round Game worlds in the belief that the worst the Reaper can do is inflict a Game death on them. Not even Hercules deserves to be wiped out of existence with a single slash of a sword or stab of a knife." Nathan coughed nervously. "I watched your broadcast, Hawk. You said that the bomber was the dangerous one, he'd been in Game for over three centuries, and had worked on server complex maintenance teams." "Oh yes." Hawk winced. "I told the whole of Game that the dangerous bomber was dead, and the Reaper was just a harmless errand boy with an ego problem." "I've been reading about what happened after the Rhapsody world crash three centuries ago," said Nathan. "There was a massive effort to increase the number of servers for each Game world from two to four. To speed the process up, the maintenance staff were given temporary access to Game Tech systems." "Point," said Kwame. "The maintenance staff were only given very limited system access to allow them to run tests on the new server configurations, but we could claim that the bomber was accidentally given access to the tools for creating enhanced Game items." Hawk nodded. "So I have to tell people that the bomber was the one who created the enhanced items. When he decided to defrost from Game, he gave them to the Reaper for safekeeping." He paused. "All right. Kwame, Nathan, I'll talk to you later." Kwame vanished into thin air. Hawk waited a bare second before speaking again in a pointed voice. "Goodbye for now, Nathan." "Oh. Right. Goodbye." Nathan's image vanished as well. I was still being distracted by nightmare visions of Hawk fighting the cloaked figure of the Reaper. The pair of them circled each other, swords clashing, and then the Reaper's blade caught Hawk's finger. It was the tiniest of cuts, but it was enough. The Reaper pulled down the hood of his cloak, and his skull face laughed as Hawk faded away and vanished. The sound of Hawk's voice brought me back to reality. "We have to forget the idea of you playing bait for the Reaper, Jex. It's far too dangerous. I'll draw the Reaper out of hiding myself." "No," I said sharply. "If playing bait is too dangerous for me, then it's too dangerous for you too. The Reaper would only need to scratch you once to delete you from the Game. There'd be nothing left of you but an empty shell of a body in a freezer unit." Hawk gave his characteristic one-shouldered shrug. "I should be able to hold out long enough for the Game Techs to get the Reaper's identity before he deletes me. If I can kill him before he deletes me that would be even better." He laughed, but I didn't find it funny. I remembered what Hawk had said back on another beach in the real world, about how a hero versus a god doesn't usually end well for the hero. Hawk turned grim again. "I'm sorry, Jex. I hate saying this, but you have to defrost from Game. Right now." "What?" I shook my head. "I'm not defrosting." "This beach isn't a safe hiding place any longer. The Reaper could come here, erase you from Game, and I ..." Hawk broke off for a second before speaking again. "I couldn't cope with that, Jex. You have to defrost from Game and stay safely in a United Law facility while I deal with the Reaper." "I'm not going to sit uselessly in a United Law facility, waiting to hear if you've got yourself murdered. The Reaper will probably do the sensible thing and stay safely in hiding. The situation could drag on for years, decades even." "It won't," said Hawk. "I'll play target. Lure him out. We'll get him." "No!" I folded my arms. "I refuse to leave Game. If the Reaper knows that I'm on Ganymede, then I can change my Game appearance and hide on a different world." As I said the words, I realized that would only work if I stayed away from Hawk, left the hunt for the Reaper, gave up Ganymede, and abandoned Jex of the silver, feathered hair to give myself a new name and appearance. What would I be left with after that? Perhaps I'd be better off leaving Game after all. At least then I could be with Nathan, talk to Hawk in Game, and stay part of the hunt for the Reaper. "It's too late for you to try hiding from the Reaper," said Hawk. "He's been tracking me. He'll have found out your identity number by now, so he can track you anywhere you go in Game." He paused. "You have to defrost, Jex. As soon as I've dealt with the Reaper, you'll be able to re-enter Game. The Leebrook Ashton bill specifically states that anyone who has entered Game counts as legally adult, so you won't have to wait until you're nineteen. You can stay at the United Law facility with Nathan until ..." A musical chime interrupted him, and Hawk groaned. "I need to get to the Founder Players' meeting and break the news to them about the attack on Celestius. I'll escort you to your home now, and the Game Techs will stand guard over you until I'm back. We'll finish this conversation then." I didn't want to go back to my house, but Hawk wouldn't leave until I did, and I couldn't make him late for this meeting. It was going to be agonizingly hard for him to tell the other Founder Players, his family, about the intended bombing of Celestius. We walked back towards my house. I'd been looking forward to living in a house of my own ever since I was a small child. I couldn't let the Reaper snatch it away from me and force me out of Game. There was Hawk too. The gulf between the two of us was too wide already, and it would grow wider with every day we were apart. "I'll stay in the house while you go to the meeting," I said, as we went inside, "and then we'll discuss how best to handle this situation. You wanted us to see if things could work between us. Me running away and defrosting, while you stay here risking your life as bait for the Reaper, isn't the way to start a relationship." Hawk went across to sit at the screens in the corner. "There's no need to discuss this situation. You have to leave Game, Jex. If you won't call for defrost yourself, then I'll have to do it for you." He waved a hand at the screens. All my pent up fury at this situation abruptly focused on Hawk. "Whether I defrost or not is my decision! No one can force me to leave Game if I don't want to go. I've already paid my first annual subscription." "What's happened?" asked Cassandra's voice. "Who's trying to force you to leave Game, Jex?" I gave a startled look at the screens, saw her image had appeared on one of them, and felt myself flush in embarrassment. "Jex has to leave Game until I've caught the Reaper," said Hawk. "The Game Techs have discovered the Reaper has a deletion weapon. It can erase a player from Game, destroying their mind, and I'm afraid he'll use it on Jex." "It could be years before you catch the Reaper," I said fiercely. "You may never catch him at all. I'm not going to hide in a United Law facility in real life until I die of old age." "You have to leave Game, Jex," said Hawk. "I understand you'll hate me for making you defrost, but I'd rather you were alive and hating me forever than have you left as a mindless frozen body in a freezer unit." Cassandra gave us a worried look. "I must go to the meeting now, Hawk. Everyone's already at the Amphitheatre waiting for us." Her image disappeared. "I have to go too," said Hawk. "I'm sorry, Jex, but ... Game command. Request Game world transfer to the Amphitheatre." He vanished. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Twenty-seven –––––––– I drew back the drapes covering the great expanse of window in the downstairs room of my house, and stood there for a long time, staring out at the incandescent beauty of Jupiter. My anger had an edge of depression now. Jupiter was even more magnificent than in my dreams, but I'd always pictured my father being here with me on Ganymede, and I could only share its beaches with his memory now. I blinked away moisture from my eyes, turned my back on the window, and tried to comfort myself with the fact that I was far more hopeful about my relationship with my mother now. I thought back through that last conversation with her. She'd forced herself to speak about a dreadful past experience because she was worried about me. I couldn't ask her to visit me on Ganymede, it held too many bad memories for her, but perhaps she'd invite me to visit her on Coral one day. I walked up a spiralling corridor to another room full of clothes and other fripperies. Depression had beaten my anger into submission now. It had been stupid of Hawk to order me to defrost from Game rather than let me make my own decision, but it would be equally stupid of me to react by stubbornly insisting on staying in Game whatever the consequences. The harsh truth was that if I stayed in Game I wouldn't be a help but a liability. A team of Game Techs would have to guard me day and night, and I wouldn't dare to go anywhere near Hawk in case he got himself deleted trying to defend me from the Reaper. I let out my breath in a long sigh of defeat. I loved my new house, but I had to leave it and go back to the real world. I'd have to spend endless days and nights at a Unilaw facility, waiting for the Reaper to attack Hawk, and knowing there was no guarantee that Hawk would win that fight. The Reaper wouldn't just be armed with a weapon that could erase Hawk from existence, but could have other items that gave him extra advantages as well. I sighed, picked up a hand mirror, tapped the glass, and sent a message to Nathan asking him to call me on a secure line. There was only a moment's delay before his face appeared in the mirror. The scene behind him showed that he was sitting at the bank of screens in his apartment. "Hi Jex." He whistled in appreciation. "You look really glitz." I saw the expression on Nathan's face, instinctively glanced downwards at myself, and belatedly realized the dress I was wearing had a hint of transparency in certain areas. The effect wasn't blatant, just a little suggestive, and I had more important things to worry about right now. "Hawk wants me to defrost and join you at the United Law facility," I said bluntly. "He's worried that the Reaper will be tracking both of us by now, and may attack me with his deletion weapon." Nathan's face twisted in sympathy. "I'm worried about that too, Jex. I understand how much you'd hate leaving Game, but it's your safest option." "I know that." "This isn't a bad place to be," Nathan added. "I'm having a great time." "You're having a great time playing with Game training texts. I'm not interested in that technical stuff." I waved my free hand in dismissal. "Forget that for now. I called you because you mentioned the Reaper could have made other enhanced items as well as the tracking item and deletion weapon. He can't have anything that makes him stronger or faster than other players, can he? If he does, then Hawk won't stand a chance." "The Reaper can't possibly have superhuman strength, or speed, or anything else," said Nathan. "All players have exactly the same basic abilities. The sole individual variation is the fitness factor, whether you've been training hard or not, and that has only a small effect on things like your strength." He paused for a moment. "I'm perfectly sure about this, because the Game Techs wanted to give Hawk temporary superhuman abilities to help him defeat the Reaper. Unfortunately, that's impossible without redesigning the whole player area of Game." "That's a shame." "Yah, though making Hawk superhuman would have set a dangerous precedent." "Who cares about that?" "The Game Techs do," said Nathan. "If Hawk was given superhuman abilities to defeat the Reaper, then half the fighters in Game would start demanding them for trivial reasons." I shrugged. "Since it's impossible to give Hawk superhuman abilities, it doesn't matter. Can the Game Techs give Hawk enhanced armour to help him?" "Armour only reduces the amount of injury from an attack. It couldn't stop Hawk from being deleted." I groaned. "At least the Reaper's totally limited to using the enhanced items he's got already. He can't enter the backstage areas of Game, so he can't reach the Game Tech systems to ..." I let my words trail off as a thought nagged at me. I started my sentence again. "The Reaper can't enter the backstage areas of Game unless he changes back into a Game Tech." Nathan gave me a puzzled frown. "I don't know why you're looking so worried. You've just said the Reaper can't reach the Game Tech systems, so he can't change himself back." "I accept the Reaper can't change himself back," I said urgently, "but he could get the Game Techs to do it for him. He just has to fool them into recruiting him as a new Game Tech!" "Point." Nathan had a look of agony on his face. "The Reaper could have set up his new identity with the Game record of a perfect candidate for Game Tech, added himself to recruitment lists, and ... I'll warn the Game investigation team that they must stop all recruitment of new Game Techs until the Reaper is caught. If he got back into the Game Tech areas, he could use his back door into the security system again and do anything he wanted." I knew what this meant for him. "I'm sorry, Nathan." "Members of the Game investigation team have been hinting I'd be recruited," he said mournfully. "It even sounded as if they were considering giving me an exemption from the Leebrook Ashton age rule, the same way they did with you, so I could enter Game and become a Game Tech right away. The Reaper has ruined everything though. I suppose I should have known it was too good to be true. I need to talk to people now so ..." I nodded. "Bye Nathan." I ended the call, and went back down the spiralling corridor to sit by the vast window, with its panorama of Ganymede's beach and sky. Eventually a disembodied voice spoke to me. "Player Jex Thorpe Leigh Grantham, resident of Ganymede, you have a player requesting Game world transfer into your home. Do you accept the Game world transfer request from player Hawk, resident of Celestius?" I stood up. "Game command. Accept Game world transfer request." Hawk appeared, dressed in a silver cloak emblazoned with a hawk in flight, and wearing a silver circlet on his black, feathered hair. He saw my stunned expression and blushed. "Official family meeting. Formal dress required. Coat of arms and crown compulsory. Personally, I think it's silly dressing up like this, but some of the family are romantics. The rest of us go along with it as harmless fun." "Is the meeting over now?" I asked. Hawk's look of embarrassment changed to one of utter weariness. "No, we're just taking a break to give people time to recover from shock. Initially, the family took the news that the bombs were intended for the Celestius server complex fairly well, but then they started thinking through what could have happened. A third of us dead. The whole Sisterhood wiped out. Avalon can rebuild, but we could never have brought back Celestius without ..." He broke off before finishing the sentence, and shook his head. "I was thinking things through too, and was hit by just how close Celestius came to disaster. If the two of us hadn't tracked down Tomath. If we hadn't fooled the Reaper with that fake murder. If the Reaper had planted the bombs himself using a controlled droid instead of getting me to do it." I reached out a hand to touch his arm. "Celestius is safe, Hawk." He was under attack by nightmare visions, and barely aware of me. "There would have been another set of bomb craters, my whole family would have been dead or broken, and it would have been my fault." This time I gave his arm a shake. "Celestius is safe," I repeated. Hawk's eyes focused on me this time. His face was still twisted in pain, but he was back in reality. "First I terrified the family with the news of the bombing, and then I made things worse by telling them the Reaper has a weapon that can delete players from Game. Perhaps I was wrong to pile all these horrors onto them, but they need to know that they're specific targets. They've got the right to be given an idea of relative risks, and consider their best options for staying safe." He'd moved on from picturing nightmares, only to start beating himself over the head with misplaced guilt feelings. I tried distracting him. "I talked to Nathan. We realized the Reaper might have set things up to get himself recruited as a Game Tech again." There was alarm in Hawk's face now. "We'd better ..." I interrupted him. "Nathan's already warning the Game Techs that they have to stop all recruitment until the Reaper is caught. Obviously, Nathan knew what that meant for him." "Poor Nathan. Had the Game Techs said anything about recruiting him?" "He said they'd been hinting about it." We sat in silence after that until the disembodied voice spoke again. "Player Hawk, resident of Celestius, you are being offered a Game world transfer to the Amphitheatre by player Cassandra, resident of Celestius. Do you accept the Game world transfer offer?" "The meeting must be reconvening," said Hawk. "I hope they don't ask me too many awkward questions. When people have known you for centuries, it's easy for them to spot when you're lying." "Player Jex Thorpe Leigh Grantham, resident of Ganymede," said the disembodied voice, "you are being offered a Game world transfer to the Amphitheatre by player Cassandra, resident of Celestius. Do you accept the Game world transfer offer?" "What?" I gasped. "Why me? You said that your family meetings were strictly private." "Cassandra wants you present as a witness," said Hawk. "You helped stop the bombing, so the family may have specific questions for you." The disembodied voice nagged us. "Response not recognized. Do you accept the Game world transfer offer?" "Game command. Accept Game world transfer offer," said Hawk, and he vanished. I gulped. I was about to face the massed Founder Players of Celestius in the famous Amphitheatre of Game. "Game command. Accept Game world transfer offer." | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Twenty-eight –––––––– The Amphitheatre was used for the most important meetings in Game. I'd often seen images of it when I watched Game news channels. Its design was based on the old Roman amphitheatres, with an oval, flat area that was surrounded by banks of seating. There was no countryside or city around it. The Amphitheatre was made of glowing marble, and hung alone in the blackness of space, lit by a host of bright stars hanging above it. The Game Techs adjusted the size of the Amphitheatre according to the number of seats needed. Sometimes it was vast, holding hundreds of thousands of people. Sometimes it was tiny, with just a few dozen players present. Now it was scaled to hold the Founder Players of the Game, fewer than a thousand people. I stood in the centre of the Amphitheatre, watching the legendary ones arriving by Game world transfer. They were all dressed in either silver or gold, their cloaks bore individual emblems, and their crowns varied from simple circlets to large and ornate creations. "Jex." The word seemed to echo round me. That was Hawk's voice. I turned towards the sound, and saw him beckoning me to a line of seats at one end of the central area. I went and sat down next to him. We were the only ones sitting here, so I assumed these seats were reserved for witnesses. "We'll sit here until we're called to answer questions," said Hawk. "Have you been in the Amphitheatre before?" I gave him a look of disbelief, and he slapped his forehead with the palm of his right hand. "No, that was a stupid question. You can tell the pressure is getting to me. Well, when you stand up, everything you say is automatically broadcast for the whole audience to hear." He grinned. "That can be embarrassing if you do it by accident." The Amphitheatre seats were almost full now. Mostly with people wearing silver, but there was a thin scattering of gold among them. I studied them for a moment, spotting the familiar faces of my childhood heroes, and worked out the colour system. "The female Founder Players wear gold, and the male ones silver?" Hawk nodded. "The Sisterhood wear gold." "The Sisterhood," I repeated. "Am I right in thinking the female Founder Players act as an organized group?" "Of course they do. They're outnumbered ten to one by men. At the beginning of the ten year trial period of Game, they had terrible problems. Obviously not with me." He made a gesture indicating innocence. "I was a nice, shy boy." I frowned. "The Game Techs didn't keep order in the Game back then?" "Well, they did their best, but remember that they were outside the Game during the ten year trial, and they'd no real penalties they could impose on anyone. Game development had got behind schedule. The Game Techs' top priority had been getting things like player senses working properly, but even there they'd had to cut corners by leaving out the sense of smell. The world construction was in a much worse state, still riddled with major problems like trees flickering in and out of existence, and there were vast, blank areas where the scenery hadn't been added at all. With so many other things to worry about, it wasn't surprising that the Game Techs hadn't even got as far as thinking of things like Game prisons." He sighed. "Once a few of the leading male troublemakers realized they could get away with almost any behaviour, the situation started spiralling out of control. Not that it was always the men to blame, some of the women were stirring up trouble as well, but ..." He let that sentence trail off, and hurried on with another. "Anyway, the women got together, formed the Sisterhood, and called in all their husbands and friends to help them try to impose a system of law and order. I had to decide if I wanted to stand idly by watching innocent people being randomly attacked, or volunteer to join the Sisterhood's efforts. I ended up as one of Cassandra's bodyguards, so Hawk the Unvanquished was right in the middle of the action, killing people." I stared at him. "You weren't really killing other Founder Players?" "Only when necessary to defend Cassandra, or rescue someone else from trouble. I remember thinking it was like the plot of one of the old style games I'd been playing, where I was fighting to restore order in a war torn land, except this was a game where things like pain were too horribly real." "But what were the Game Techs doing during this?" "Throwing fits and threatening to defrost the lot of us," said Hawk, "but we knew they couldn't do that. Abandoning the trial would have sent the Game Company straight into bankruptcy." He shrugged. "Eventually, things calmed down, and Cassandra and Pendragon organized a series of meetings. The whole family discussed what rules we should impose, and agreed on punishments for misbehaviour. Mostly involving guilty parties being confined to their castles for appropriate lengths of time. We adjusted the rules over the next couple of years, and got everything reasonably settled by the end of the trial period. Celestius has been run according to those initial rules ever since." "What are these rules?" "Given our unique circumstances on Celestius, we needed a few special rules to stop troublemakers disrupting relationships, but the rest are almost identical to the rules in the rest of Game. In fact, the Game Techs based most of the Game rules on ours. A big stabilizing factor in Celestius was bringing in a system where each of the female players acts as sister to some of the men. I was lucky that Cassandra was grateful enough for my help to agree to be my sister. She was married to Pendragon for the first few decades in Game, but then they split up and I optimistically suggested Cassandra and I could be more than brother and sister." "Since she's been married to Thor for over three centuries, I'm assuming Cassandra said no." "Cassandra said a painfully polite no." Hawk winced at the memory. "She explained that she was very fond of me, but her feelings towards me were motherly, if not grandmotherly. She said that was because of the real life age difference, I was eighteen and she was seventy-three, but we all knew we were living in Game permanently by then so I thought age didn't matter. I assumed it was really because I'd been so ghastly as Michael." I laughed. "Michael isn't as bad as you think." "No, he's much worse," said Hawk. "Now I can see Cassandra's point about age. As I told you before, experiences in the dreamlike existence of Game don't change your personality. Cassandra had lived for seventy-three years in the real world, buried a husband and a daughter, and suffered a long terminal illness. She's a wise and compassionate woman, while I'm an eighteen-year-old boy with emotional problems. She knows all about my Hawk act, and the fact that you only have to scratch the surface of the legendary hero to find Michael underneath." I was about to reply, when I saw Cassandra had moved to stand in the centre of the Amphitheatre. When she spoke, her voice was broadcast across it. "We are all present once more, except for our two brothers who are indisposed." I didn't understand her words for a moment – no one was ever ill in Game – but then I remembered there were two Founder Players under house arrest. "This meeting is now in session," she continued. "Hawk mentioned some surveillance footage to me, so I've requested it from the Game Techs." "Oh no." Hawk made a whimpering noise. "It's all right," I whispered. "The Game Techs will have edited out anything awkward." "They won't have edited out Michael!" A flat screen appeared in midair at the far end of the Amphitheatre. There was a pause while a few people changed seats to get a better view, then the screen started showing heavily edited surveillance footage of Michael and Emma talking to Tomath. "If I suddenly vanish," whispered Hawk, "I've suffered a Game death from embarrassment and I'll be back after I resurrect on Celestius." "You don't look any worse than I do," I whispered back. The Founder Players didn't seem interested in our looks, just in what was happening. The scenes with Tomath were followed by Michael and Emma at the dormitory, receiving the call from the Reaper. Hawk cringed as he watched Michael yanking at Emma's hair. I felt like cringing too, because my Emma persona looked scared senseless through the whole thing. When that sequence ended, a male voice called out from the audience. "You still aren't very good with girls, are you, Hawk?" "This isn't a time for jokes, Hercules," said Cassandra. "I'll kill him," muttered Hawk. It was the murder scene next. When I saw my "death", I could see why it had scared Michael so much. Falcon had clearly got even better at faking injuries since winning the area championship. My throat seemed to have been cut to the bone, and there was blood everywhere. We then had Michael cutting the medical chip out of his arm with a knife. I turned my head away and watched the audience during that bit. Some of them seemed to be avoiding looking at the images as well. Finally, there was a few seconds of Michael on the buggy, and getting blown up by the bombs. The screen went blank, and there was a long silence before Cassandra spoke again. "Hawk, can you stand please?" He stood up with a barely audible sigh. "Let's go over the current situation again," she said. "I think a lot of people were too shocked to take in all the details the first time you explained them. The bomber is dead, but his accomplice, the Reaper, is still in Game?" "Yes." "You don't know anything about the Reaper, except that he's male and a lifetime subscription holder?" "That's right." "You told us that the Reaper has a deletion weapon. This could remove a player from the Game, without allowing their consciousness to return to their real life body. In effect, permanently killing them, although the physical body would remain in the body stacks." "Yes," said Hawk. "There's a danger the Reaper will attack someone with this deletion weapon to take revenge for Tomath's death." "You believe that the Reaper is likely to direct his attacks primarily at you and Jex, because you prevented the Celestius bombing and killed Tomath, but any Founder Player is a potential target?" "Unfortunately, yes," said Hawk. "The Reaper sees himself as the rightful ruler of Game, and bitterly resents the fame of the Founder Players." Cassandra nodded. "Then we have two main issues to discuss. Is Celestius safe now, and are we as individuals safe when we leave it? Game command. Request Game Tech assistance." Kwame appeared before Cassandra had even finished saying the words. He'd obviously been waiting to be called. "Is Celestius safe?" asked Cassandra. Kwame's face was calm and controlled, but his body language looked nervous to me. "Maintenance crews no longer have any access at all to the Game Tech systems. Extensive changes have been made to protect force field codes. Any request for a code must now be confirmed by multiple gold status Game Techs. Once a force field code has been supplied to a maintenance crew, it will automatically change within two minutes." I admired the way that each individual sentence was true, but the total implied something that wasn't. "The main Celestius server complex is now under constant guard by armed Unilaw officers," said Kwame. "While you were all in the Amphitheatre earlier, we took the opportunity to adjust the Celestius server configuration to include servers at two different secret locations. All three server complexes would have to fail for Celestius to be harmed." I blinked. I remembered a Game Tech explaining they'd need to shut down a Game world to reconfigure its servers, so Celestius must have briefly vanished from Game. I could see why the Game Techs had grabbed their chance to do that furtively. Players wouldn't react well to the suggestion of shutting down their Game world at any time, but it could trigger blind fury in these circumstances. I wondered what the Game Techs had done with the two Founder Players under house arrest while they shut down Celestius. Presumably there'd have been some time taken up running tests as well. Had Marcus and Chiron spent a confusing hour or two in a Game prison? The silver-cloaked figure of Atlas stood up in the audience, and called out in a bitter voice. "Very nice, but why didn't you do these things centuries ago? If Hawk and ... what's her name, Jex, hadn't stopped the bomber, my wife would be dead!" "I understand and share your anger," said Cassandra. "We will return to that point later, but for now we need to focus on the issue of our future safety. Hawk, do you believe the new arrangements are secure?" "I can't think of any weaknesses," said Hawk. "So Celestius should be safe," said Cassandra, "and the Reaper will not be able to reach us while we remain there. The problem is what happens when we go to other worlds. Are we even safe here in the Amphitheatre?" "At this moment," said Kwame, "Amphitheatre access is routed via Celestius. Manual intervention by Game Techs was required to bring Jex here." "So the main danger to us will be if we leave Celestius to visit other worlds?" asked Cassandra. "That is correct," said Kwame. "I'm hoping the Reaper realizes he may only get one chance to attack someone," said Hawk, "and that he saves his anger for me, but I'd still advise the rest of the family to stay on Celestius." Merlin rose to his feet, his skin shimmering with the glitter effect that marked residents of Starlight. "I've just come here from Starlight. Stella had finally agreed to meet me and talk things over. We were going to try to ignore all the gossips and make things work again, but this changes the situation. If I go back to live with Stella on Starlight, will I be putting her life at risk as well as my own?" "I'm afraid so. You shouldn't assume that you'd be safe even within Stella's house. As I said, the Reaper's preferred targets are going to be myself and Jex. My plan is to wander round the worlds outside Celestius, parading myself as a target until the Reaper attacks me." "Won't he guess it's a trap and just stay in hiding?" asked Fleur. "I'll just have to be so tempting that the Reaper can't resist trying to kill me permanently," said Hawk. "If Hawk needs to be irresistible, we'll all be stuck on Celestius for centuries," called Hercules. "And what of Jex?" asked Cassandra. "She wanted to play being target as well," said Hawk, "but she hasn't my combat experience so that would be suicidally dangerous. I've told the Game Techs that Jex will be defrosting immediately after this meeting for her own protection. She can remain safely under guard at a real world United Law facility until we've caught the Reaper." Fury hit me. I'd reluctantly accepted I should leave Game, but Hawk hadn't bothered to ask my decision. He'd just told the Game Techs I was defrosting. I jumped up and shouted in outrage. "Hey! I'm not a criminal. You can't just tell the Game Techs to throw me out of ..." I broke off, realizing my shouts were being broadcast around the Amphitheatre, echoing like thunder, and all the Founder Players were staring at me. I gulped, hesitated, and sat down again. "Jex risked a real life death to save Celestius," said Cassandra. "It hardly seems fair to reward her for that by forcibly removing her from Game and imprisoning her in a United Law facility." "Of course it isn't fair," said Hawk. "It wouldn't be fair if the Reaper erases her mind from Game either." Cassandra looked at Kwame. "Game Tech?" "Player Hawk had not made it clear that the defrost request was being made without player Jex's consent," said Kwame. "There is no precedent for removing a player in good standing from Game against their will." "This meeting is now in temporary recess," said Cassandra. "I request the Sisterhood to accept my Game world transfer offer to my castle on Celestius." She vanished. The rest of the golden cloaks rapidly disappeared from the Amphitheatre as well until only silver were left. Hawk turned to Kwame. "If you haven't got a precedent, you'll have to create one." Kwame shook his head. "The Game Techs must be wary of setting precedents. They will inevitably be cited by other players making similar requests." Hercules promptly stood up in the audience. "If we can request that Game Techs throw people out of Game, I want Hawk thrown out." Hawk glared at him. "I challenge! Name the time and place!" "I'm not fighting you again," said Hercules. "You've killed me about two hundred times already." "Chicken." Hawk turned back to Kwame. "You have to make Jex defrost, or she could be murdered right under your nose." I sat listening to the argument and wondering what to do. After all the fuss, it would be embarrassing to interrupt and explain that I'd been angry at Hawk ordering me around but I'd already decided I should leave Game. I glowered in Hawk's direction. This situation was all his fault. Someone sat down next to me. I turned my head, startled, and saw a heavily muscled giant of a man, with blond hair and a taste for clothes made out of leather. Hercules had come to talk to me. "Hello, Jex." He stared down at my legs. "Hi, Hercules," I said warily. "Emma looked nice, but you look even nicer." He lifted his head a little, and focused his eyes on my neckline. I wished I'd changed clothes before coming to the Amphitheatre. I felt the ideal costume for sitting next to Hercules would be heavy plate armour. "Everyone looks a lot better in Game," said Hercules. "Especially Hawk. Didn't you think Michael was repulsive?" I felt like insulting Hawk myself, but I didn't appreciate hearing Hercules doing it. "No. In fact, I couldn't see why Michael had such a complex about his appearance, but now it makes far more sense to me. You had a whole month to undermine his confidence before entering Game." Hercules laughed. "You're giving me far too much credit. Someone else had undermined Michael's confidence before I even met him. I just had to complete the good work." If I'd had a knife with me at that moment, there'd have been Game news channel headlines about me stabbing a Founder Player. Hawk spotted Hercules sitting next to me, abandoned his argument with Kwame, and came to stand pointedly looming over the two of us. Hercules smiled smugly up at him, before turning his attention back to me. "Perhaps we could get together some time, Jex. I'd like to get to know you a lot better." I gave him my most insincere smile. "That's very kind of you, but the answer's no." "Don't tell me you're Hawk's exclusive property." "I'm a free agent," I said, "but I know perfectly well that you're only asking me out to try and provoke Hawk into hitting you in front of a Game Tech. I suppose your plan is that the Game Tech will be forced to intervene, and then you can enjoy Hawk getting lectured on Game rules section 3 in front of all the other Founder Players." Hercules grinned at me. "You're a smart girl. I can understand why Hawk loves you. Always." He stood up, waved cheerfully at Hawk, and headed back to the main Amphitheatre seats. Hawk stood there scowling for a moment longer, before sitting down beside me again. "Perhaps I could arrange for the Reaper to delete Hercules from Game." I laughed. "Why did Hercules quote what you said to me when we faked you cutting my throat? Surely he knows that was just part of the act." Hawk stared up at the stars overhead. "Hercules has been studying me for four centuries, working out every weakness he can attack. He knows I wouldn't have said those words unless they were true." "What?" I stared at him, shocked and disbelieving. "We've only known each other for a few days, and a lot of that time you were just controlling a droid from within Game." "I know it's far too soon to make declarations," said Hawk. "I only said that I loved you because of the situation. I was Michael again. I was going off with the Reaper, and there was a fair chance I'd die. I was in real life, so it wouldn't be a temporary Game death, but very permanent. I wanted those words to be the last thing I said to you, even if you thought I was just acting." I couldn't cope with discussing this right now. I was too annoyed by Hawk trying to force me to defrost. I was too aware of the host of male Founder Players still lounging in their seats and watching us. I changed the subject instead. "Why do you and Hercules have this long running, childish feud? If it's because he stole your name, you should forget it. Hawk suits you much better." "I was irritated about the name, but then we entered Game and I decided I preferred being called Hawk. The situation improved between me and Hercules, because he was too busy chasing after Fleur to spend time tormenting me, and we were actually allies during the big period of fighting. The problems started up again when the First Wave arrived in Game. Hercules liked showing off to them, but I was much better than him at fighting the big monsters, so the new players admired me more than him. When they started calling me Hawk the Unvanquished, Hercules bitterly resented them not giving him a title too, and started playing malicious tricks on me. Then Fleur dumped him, Hercules blamed me for their split, and our feud became very, very, serious." I didn't like the sound of that. "You and Fleur were ...?" "Fleur would have laughed in my face if I'd tried approaching her. What happened was Hercules rigged a booby trap at their castle, and invited me over in the hope I'd walk into it. Unfortunately, Fleur came home unexpectedly. She walked into the trap instead of me, a huge cannonball landed on her head, and she got Game killed. When she resurrected, she was coldly furious, and dumped Hercules on the spot." I shook my head in disbelief. "I'm not surprised Fleur dumped him, but why did Hercules blame you for what happened? It sounds like it was entirely his own fault." Hawk sighed. "Hercules wasn't going to blame himself, was he? Fleur never forgave him for killing her. She'd suffered years of pain in real life, entered Game to escape it, and ..." Hawk broke off and stared at the centre of the Amphitheatre. All seventy-nine female Founder Players had appeared there, in thirteen neat rows of six golden-cloaked figures, with Cassandra standing at the front. "Oh no," muttered Hawk. "They're in war formation. Please don't let them be after me." "Game Tech," said Cassandra, in a voice of ice. Kwame stepped forward to face her, looking utterly terrified. "When we entered Game, many Founder Players were warned a normal defrost would be dangerous for them due to their ill health," said Cassandra. "Is it true that an emergency, high-speed defrost would be fatal for the people given that warning?" "That is correct," said Kwame. "So all of those would have died if the bombing of Celestius had succeeded?" "That is correct." "That includes the entire Sisterhood?" Cassandra stared at him in accusation. He nodded. She was out for her pound of flesh. "I'd like your verbal answer for the record. That includes the entire Sisterhood?" "That is correct." I was feeling sorry for Kwame by now. After all, none of this was his personal fault. Cassandra still hadn't finished though. "Will all male players who received that warning please stand?" Many of the silver-cloaked figures around the Amphitheatre stood up. I was somehow startled to see Caesar was among them. "All of those Founder Players currently standing would have died." Cassandra threw the accusation at Kwame. "That is correct." "In the light of that, the Sisterhood of Celestius wish to make a request." Kwame seemed to be holding his breath as he waited for her to continue. "We wish to offer Founder Player status to Jex," said Cassandra. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Twenty-nine –––––––– Reality blurred and fell apart, so I totally missed the conversation for the next few minutes. When I finally got my brain working again, there was a debate going on about precedents. I glanced at Hawk. He was listening intently with a worried expression on his face. "The Game Techs must be wary of setting precedents. They will inevitably be cited by other players making similar requests." Kwame said the same words he'd said earlier. I guessed that he was quoting from the Game Tech regulations. "In this case, we would hope there could be no similar requests. Or," asked Cassandra acidly, "do you expect Celestius to face destruction on a daily basis?" "Point," said Kwame. "It's just that I have to pin this down exactly. You know what happened when we allowed you to bring partners to Celestius, and giving someone Founder Player status is far more drastic." I noticed that Kwame had stopped using formal Game Tech speech patterns. He was losing his grip on this situation too. "So," he continued carefully, "you're speaking on behalf of the Founder Players of Celestius? They're requesting that Jex be given Founder Player status in recognition of her key role in preventing the bombing of the Celestius server?" "I speak on behalf of the Sisterhood of Celestius," said Cassandra, "however I'm sure the entire family will agree that it's unfair that Jex should be forced to leave Game when she saved our lives. She may not be safe anywhere else in Game, but she would be safe on Celestius." "This isn't a temporary measure?" asked Kwame. "You don't want Jex's Founder Player status to be removed when the situation becomes safer?" "Founder Player status has always been permanent," said Cassandra. "We didn't want to set a precedent for removing it when our brothers became ... ill, and we don't want to set one now." She gestured around the Amphitheatre. "All of us were given Founder Player status as a reward for risking our lives by joining the Game for the ten year trial. Without us, there would be no Game today. Jex would be given Founder Player status as a reward for risking her life to stop the bombing. Without her, there would be no Celestius today." Kwame brightened up and went into formal Game Tech mode again. "That is correct. We do have an existing precedent for this. May I withdraw and confer with other Game Techs while you take a formal vote of all the Founder Players?" "The Sisterhood have already voted on this matter, and are unanimously in favour," said Cassandra, in a meaningful voice, "but I will take a formal vote of the rest of the family as well. Does anyone have any questions to ask before that formal vote is taken?" Kwame vanished into thin air. There seemed to be a lot of urgent conversations going on in the audience. I wasn't sure if that meant the male Founder Players were against me being given Founder Player status, or just startled by the suggestion. Hawk shook his head. "I can't believe this is happening." I frowned at him. "You don't seem very happy at the idea of me becoming a Founder Player." "Of course I'm happy. It means you can stay in Game and be safe on Celestius. It's just that on other worlds people see what we choose to let them see, and the Founder Players are glittering legends. Here on Celestius, all the masks that we hide behind are gone, and we're our real selves." He groaned. "I've plenty of friends here, but I've got enemies too, particularly among the single men. They'll be eager to cause trouble between us, by telling you all my faults and describing every mistake I've made in the last four centuries. I can see Hercules is starting his attack already." I turned my attention back to the Amphitheatre, and saw Hercules was standing up in the audience. "We've never had anyone join us before, so can you clarify the rules regarding Jex?" he asked. Cassandra nodded. "Jex would naturally be a member of the Sisterhood, and have our full support against any attempts to disrupt her chosen relationships. As always, the sole condition applies that her chosen relationships should not impinge on a prior, publicly declared relationship of any other sister." "Jex has told me she's a free agent," said Hercules, "so I'd like to make it clear I'm interested in a relationship with her." I heard Hawk muttering at my side. "I'll kill him. Very slowly and painfully. Over, and over, and over again." Cassandra sighed. "This isn't the time or place for making relationship offers, Hercules. Does anyone else have questions, or are we ready to vote?" There was silence. "Very well," Cassandra said. "Please stand if in favour of the invitation to Jex." There was a ripple of silver around the area as male Founder Players stood. Hawk sighed and stood up with them. After a moment, they all sat down again. "Against?" asked Cassandra. They all remained seated. I gripped the cool marble arms of my seat. "This can't be happening," I murmured. "This really can't be happening." "The Founder Players of Celestius have voted unanimously in favour," said Cassandra. "Player Jex Thorpe Leigh Grantham, resident of Ganymede, is to be given Founder Player status as a reward for risking her life in the real world to stop the bombing of the Celestius server complex. Without her actions, there would be no Celestius today." She turned to smile at me. "Welcome player Jex, resident of Celestius." I glanced hesitantly at Hawk. "What do I do now?" I whispered. "Ask for a Game Tech to ..." "You don't need to do anything." He pointed at my left arm. I looked down and saw the bracelet on my forearm was sparkling diamond. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Thirty –––––––– I'd been a Founder Player living on Celestius for nearly two weeks now. Hawk had been away for most of that time, wandering hopefully round other Game worlds, braced ready for the Reaper to attack him. In fact, Hawk was supposed to be away right now, but instead he was standing opposite me on the balcony of the highest tower of my castle. He gave me an anxious look. "I don't understand why you aren't shouting at me." A pair of winged horses flew by the balcony, and started playing hide and seek in the drifting white clouds below us. I made the mistake of looking down at them, and caught a glimpse of an emerald green coastline a dizzying distance below the clouds. I'd always thought that Celestius having castles in the air was a charming idea, but castles on the ground seemed far more appealing at the moment. I forced my attention back to Hawk. "Do you want me to be shouting at you?" "It would make a lot more sense to me. I can see it was unreasonable of me to come dashing back to Celestius to interrogate you about why you'd been visiting Merlin's castle, and I've seen you lose your temper before. Like when you were telling me about having your Game future wrecked by Unilaw questioning." "I shouldn't have screamed at you about the Unilaw questioning," I said. "It wasn't just unfair when I knew you weren't the one who'd decided to bring all the kids from the body stacks in for questioning, but incredibly dangerous as well. You could have reacted by sending me and Nathan back to the body stacks. Instead, you got both our records cleared, and those of all the other kids as well. I was so grateful for that. I'm still grateful for that. I admire the way that your own experiences of bullying have made you try to help others." Hawk was still looking worried. "And you lost your temper again when I tried to force you to defrost from Game." I stabbed a forefinger at him. "You deserved to get yelled at that time. You don't make my decisions for me." Hawk lifted both hands in surrender. "I knew I'd no right to force you out of Game. I was just terrified that the Reaper would delete you from existence." He paused. "Anyway, what's worrying me is that both those times you lost your temper over things you really cared about. If you're staying so calm about me doing something that could totally mess up our relationship, then maybe that means it isn't important to you." "It's not that I don't care about our relationship," I said. "It's that I understand why you behaved that way. Before I became a Founder Player, I was feeling horribly insecure about our relationship. Now you're feeling just as insecure." "I didn't believe the message from Hercules," said Hawk. "I guessed he was just saying you were dumping me for Merlin to cause trouble between us, but then Lancelot called me and he said that ..." I lifted a hand to stop him. "Let's forget all about what Hercules, Lancelot, or anyone else told you. I hope that if you hear any more gossip about me, then you'll try to trust me rather than panicking." "I'll do my best." The two winged horses stopped playing hide and seek, and came skimming across to hover, feathered wings beating like those of hummingbirds, next to our balcony. Hawk moved to sit on the parapet and leaned out to stroke them. "Would you please stop doing that?" I said, in a tense voice. Hawk pulled his hand back and gave me a confused look. "I thought you liked the winged horses." "I love the winged horses. I'm just worried about you sitting on the parapet and leaning out over a sheer drop." He was obviously even more confused now. "You were sitting on this parapet with me a few days ago." "Yes, but two hours ago I nearly plummeted to my death, and I'm still feeling a bit nervous about heights." Hawk frowned. "You fell off this balcony?" "I didn't fall off this balcony. I went for a ride on a winged horse, so I could admire the sight of my castle floating above the clouds. I was having a wonderful time until I reached out to try to stroke a passing bird and fell off my horse." I shuddered as I remembered that dreadful moment. "The ground was rushing towards me, and I was panicking too much to think. I was about to be hit in the face by a mountain, and achieve fame as the first person foolish enough to suffer a Game death by falling off a winged horse on Celestius, when I finally had the sense to scream a Game command and teleport home to my castle." "You wouldn't have been the first," said Hawk. "Caesar killed himself falling off a winged horse the day after the Game Techs introduced them to Celestius. No one would have thought you especially foolish anyway. We've all made glorious fools of ourselves many times in the last four centuries. Hercules killed Fleur with that booby trap, Uther sank his own castle, even Cassandra has had her embarrassing moments." "How do you sink a castle?" I asked. Hawk gave me a joyous grin. "Uther overloaded it. He wanted his towers to be bigger than anyone else's towers. When the Game Techs made the requested changes, the castle plummeted from the sky, landed in mid-ocean, and sank underwater. I'll show you the replay of it later. It's hilarious." I laughed. "Didn't the Game Techs realize that would happen?" "Well, they claimed they didn't, but we had our suspicions they sank the castle deliberately. Uther had been annoying them for years, constantly asking them to make adjustments to his castle. They're quite happy to make occasional changes, and they're expecting you to want quite a lot done to this place because it's new, but Uther was hassling them every few hours." "I think my castle is perfect the way it is." I made a sweeping gesture to indicate the delicate towers around us. "I love all the flowering creepers growing up the walls, and the way the roofs of the spires are woven in spider silk like the houses on Ganymede." Hawk stood up. "If you're feeling uncomfortably high up here, why don't we ride a winged horse down to the surface of Celestius? We could visit a private beach of mine." I shuddered again. "I'm not ready to get back on a winged horse yet." "I was thinking that we could both ride on the same horse. I could hold on to you very tightly so you couldn't possibly fall off." There was something odd about his voice when he made the suggestion. I looked at him suspiciously. "That sounds like it could get a bit intimate." "Not really." I narrowed my eyes. "So if Hercules suggests taking me for a horse ride, I can happily accept?" "All right," Hawk admitted. "Celestius is the only place with winged horses. I've never been on the right terms with any of the women here to try it myself, but I gather that sharing a horse is regarded as one of the erm ... fringe benefits of having a relationship with another Founder Player rather than an outsider. Apparently, the wing movements ... Don't laugh like that." It was at least two minutes before I finally managed to stop giggling. "So," said Hawk, "you can fulfil my wildest erotic fantasies by flying on a winged horse with me, or we could just ask for a Game teleport to the beach." I grinned. "Difficult decision. Very difficult." He sighed. "Game command. Request group teleport to Hawk private beach." A minute later, I was standing on a beach. This was very different from the beaches on Ganymede. There were grey and white pebbles worn smooth by the sea. There were gulls circling over the blue-green of the ocean, their high-pitched cries cutting through the background sound of wind and waves. The sea breeze was chilly and held a strong tang of salt mixed with a faintly unpleasant smell of seaweed. After two weeks of the ornate loveliness of the scenery in Game, this place seemed remarkably ordinary to be Hawk's private beach. When we started walking along, the pebbles bruised my toes through my dainty shoes. That reminded me of something. It took me a moment to track down the memory. "We sat on a beach like this in the real world, when we were talking about ... about children. This place isn't based on that beach, but one from further along the same coastline, isn't it? It's the beach from your childhood." Hawk smiled. "Yes, this is where I played as a child. I asked for it to be copied, so I could come here, forget about Hawk, and remember who I really was. The beach just ends in grassland though, there's no road and no house. I felt that copying the house, the furniture, and my old room, would be where sentimentality crossed the line into being morbid." I nodded, and looked across at the grassland. "Can we walk over there for a bit? I need tougher shoes to cope with these pebbles, and I don't want to teleport back to my castle just to change my shoes." Hawk took my arm as we walked across to the long, wiry grass. There were just a few scattered flowers in pink and blue, instead of the mass of colours you'd expect in Game. They seemed all the prettier for being scarce. "So what have you been doing since I last saw you?" Hawk asked. "I've mostly been adjusting to living in Game instead of real life. That's been much harder than I expected. It isn't one big thing, but a whole host of little differences. Like the way the days are so long and the nights are so short." "Celestius has the standard Game day and night length," said Hawk. "There's no need for nights to be more than a couple of hours long when people don't sleep in Game. If someone particularly enjoys night skies, they can go somewhere like Starlight or Harvest Moon." "That's another thing," I said. "Why does Celestius have three identical moons in different colours?" Hawk grinned. "Because of a programming error." "What?" "It was a mistake that crept in when the Game Techs revamped the original Game world and made it into Celestius. It was a while before they had time to fix the error, and by then we'd got fond of our moons and wanted to keep them. Celestius has had a triple moon ever since." I laughed. "As Hercules helpfully told you, I visited Merlin's castle. The poor man had been messaging me every day to ask for updates on the hunt for the Reaper. He's terrified that he's going to lose his last chance of salvaging his relationship with Stella. He's been calling her every few hours, but that isn't the same as visiting in person. Anyway, I ended up going over to Merlin's castle and talking to both of them. I told them that they just have to wait patiently." "They could have a very long wait," said Hawk gloomily. "I've done everything I can to tempt the Reaper to attack me. I even agreed to let the Game Techs release that surveillance footage of the awful Michael." I shook my head. "There's nothing awful about Michael, and anyway the Game Techs enhanced those images beautifully, so we look almost like our Game selves." "I still look like Michael to me, and I hate everyone in Game watching replays of me murdering you. I thought it would make the Reaper so furious to have the whole population of Game watching us trick him, that he'd be bound to attack me, but it's achieved nothing. I'm starting to worry that the Reaper will never attack me." Hawk looked deeply frustrated at this idea, but I secretly hoped it was true. These days, I was only too well aware that behind Hawk the Unvanquished was a very vulnerable Michael, and that every incredible victory over one of the challenges of Game had been hard earned by many failures and a lot of temporary Game deaths. If the Reaper attacked Hawk, then there would be no second chances, because death would be real and permanent. "I visited Cassandra's castle as well," I said, "and I've been calling a lot of people including Nathan and my old friends from my medical cadet days." "How did your old friends react to you becoming a Founder Player?" asked Hawk. "Diane, Bevan, and Chen were a bit tongue tied. Gina seemed to cope a lot better. We did a lot of talking about what happened when I was thrown off the medical course. The instructor told the rest of my class that I'd been lying to them about my grades for years. Gina didn't believe that, but she couldn't do anything about it." Hawk slapped himself on the side of the head. "I forgot to contact my expert. If there's any evidence of your instructor changing the records, she should have found it by now." "It doesn't matter any longer. Gina told me that when the news broke about me becoming a Founder Player, the instructor instantly quit her job. Silly of her. Even if we'd found enough evidence to get her fired from her post, she'd have been paid a proportion of the cost of her lifetime Game subscription. Quitting means she's broken her contract, so she gets nothing at all." "She was probably afraid that you'd make a public statement about what happened and turn the whole of Game against her. There'd be no way for her to defend herself, because no one would listen to the word of an unknown doctor against a Founder Player." I gave a startled laugh. "I remember the instructor telling me that no one would listen to the word of an unknown medical cadet against a doctor. Anyway, she's dealt out her own punishment, so I'm forgetting about her now." "What did the insufferably smug Falcon think of you becoming a Founder Player?" "Falcon didn't even mention it. He was too busy talking about the replays of the fake murder, and complaining about you not flourishing the knife enough." Hawk groaned. "I don't think I mentioned before that Falcon's mother is a big fan of yours. She named her twins Falcon and Eagle in your honour, but Gina always uses her second name because she thinks Eagle is a silly name for a girl." Hawk gave me a wary look. "I get the impression that you're especially close to Gina. I hadn't realized she was Falcon's twin sister." "Don't worry about that. Gina finds Falcon just as maddening as the rest of us." I paused. "I've had several calls from my mother too. She used to avoid calling me because I was a reminder of the unpleasant time she spent in the real world when I was born. Now I'm a Founder Player, I seem to make her think of more pleasant things, because she's calling me every day." "Are you happy about that?" "Mostly. It was difficult finding things we could talk about to start with, but then Cassandra said she was going to arrange a big party for me to be formally introduced to all the Founder Players. My mother is helping me plan what to wear. Will you be able take time off from playing bait for the Reaper, and be my partner at the party?" "Definitely. I ..." An automated voice spoke from somewhere above us. "Player Hawk, resident of Celestius, you have an incoming call from player Hercules, resident of Celestius. Do you accept the call?" I saw Hawk hesitating, and shook my head at him. "You can't seriously be considering talking to Hercules." He pulled a face of despair. "I never know what to do in these situations. I can beat Hercules in a physical fight, but I'm no good at his warped mind games. If I accept his call, then I know he'll say something that makes me have one of my immature Michael moments. If I reject the call, then I know he'll start sending messages to other people about me, and that will end up causing trouble too." "Do you accept the call?" repeated the voice. Hawk sighed. "Game command. Reject call." "Call rejected," acknowledged the voice. "It's totally irresponsible of Hercules to cause you problems while you're trying to trap the Reaper," I said. "Hercules saw the surveillance footage. He heard me tell you that I love you. He blames me for him losing Fleur, so he can't resist trying to get his revenge by messing up my chances with you." "I don't understand how you can be so heroic about the big things like chasing the Reaper, but go into a blind panic over Hercules playing childish tricks." "It's easy to be heroic about battling the Reaper," said Hawk. "It's much harder to cope with Hercules sticking verbal pins in me. I'm scared that he'll keep hitting my weak points, making me show you the worst side of Michael, and eventually you'll get so sick of me that you go off with someone else." The automated voice spoke again. "Player Jex, resident of Celestius, you have an incoming call from player Hercules, resident of Celestius. Do you accept the call?" "I knew it," said Hawk bitterly. "I wouldn't talk to him, so now he's calling you to tell you something poisonous about me." "Hercules can't tell me anything at all because I'm not listening to him. Game command. Reject call." "Call rejected," responded the automated voice. "He'll call you again," said Hawk. "If Hercules keeps bothering me, I'll get a Game Tech to block all calls from him. You should do that too." "It won't work. Nothing ever does. Hercules will find a way to get a message to you that starts an argument between us." I frowned. "When we were in the Amphitheatre, you mentioned Celestius had special rules to stop troublemakers from disrupting relationships. After Cassandra suggested making me a Founder Player, I was too dazed to follow the situation closely, but I remember her saying something about me being under the protection of the Sisterhood as well. Hercules is deliberately trying to cause trouble between us. Surely that isn't allowed." "Yes, Celestius has rules to stop troublemakers disrupting relationships, and the Sisterhood are very strict about enforcing them, but those rules don't apply to us because ... Jex, if we have this conversation, then I'm scared I'll say the wrong thing and we'll have another fight about you making your own decisions." "What's the problem here? Talk to me, Hawk. Tell me why the rules don't apply to us. I need to understand what's going on." He let his head sag forward for a second as if in defeat. "The rules don't apply to us because you've publicly stated you're a free agent. That means Hercules can use any tactics he wants to compete with me for your attention." "What?" Hawk flushed. "I'm not complaining about that, Jex. I accept that I'd no right to order you to leave Game. I accept that I've no right to push you into a relationship with me. I've been avoiding even discussing this because I knew ..." I interrupted him. "Wait a minute. Back in the Amphitheatre, Hercules came to sit next to me, and asked if I was your exclusive property. He knew I was angry at you for trying to make me defrost, used the word property to make me even more annoyed, and I made the mistake of saying I was a free agent. When Cassandra suggested making me a Founder Player, Hercules grabbed his chance to repeat that in front of everyone. Am I right that he was deliberately setting up a situation where he'd be free to try to split us up?" "Yes." Hawk was watching me very intently. "Hercules is an expert at manipulating people." "I resent being manipulated. I'm beginning to understand why you keep challenging Hercules to duels." "If he hadn't used the word property to upset you, what would you have said to him about us?" I stared across at the sea to avoid looking at Hawk. "I'm not sure. A girl in a bronze bracelet could hardly stake a claim to having a relationship with a Founder Player, so I was leaving it to you to tell people about us." "You aren't wearing a bronze bracelet any longer," said Hawk. "On Celestius, the woman is the one who makes any public declarations about the changes in her relationship status. She can decide to be exclusive with one person, or several, or free to any approaches." I risked turning my head to look at him. His expression was one of tense excitement as he waited for me to reply. "I'd like to stop Hercules causing trouble between us," I said carefully, "but I don't want us to be rushed into anything drastic before we're ready. If I told people we were in an exclusive relationship, what exactly would that imply?" Hawk was grinning at me now. "Exclusive is a statement that you currently aren't open to receiving other relationship offers. What it means beyond that is your decision." "If I announced we were exclusive, you wouldn't start assuming anything? We could still gradually work things out between us in our own time? You'd be happy with that?" Hawk nodded. "I've been waiting four hundred years to have a proper relationship, so we can take all the time you want." "How do I make the announcement?" "You call Cassandra, and she'll message all the Founder Players about it." I laughed, not because the situation was funny, but because it was so surreal. I thought back to the day I'd been sleeping, exhausted, on the ground next to my buggy in the body stacks. When Hawk the Unvanquished's controlled droid appeared, I'd hardly dared to speak to him, but now I was publicly announcing I was in a relationship with him. Unbelievable. "It's a shame that I need to keep going off to other worlds, trying to tempt the Reaper out of hiding," said Hawk. "If we're entering into an exclusive relationship, then we should be spending more time together." I wanted to suggest I could go with him, but Hawk would have enough problems defending himself from the Reaper without having to defend me as well. I had to do the sensible thing and stay on Celestius where there was no way for the Reaper to reach me. And that was the moment that I realized there'd been a flaw in our logic. Perhaps I wasn't safe on Celestius, perhaps no one was safe on Celestius, because there was a way that the Reaper could have reached here after all. I fought to keep my voice sounding calm and relaxed. "I'd like to go home and call Cassandra before Hercules causes any more trouble. Do you think you can stay on Celestius for a day or two at least? We should celebrate the start of our official relationship." "I don't see any reason why I can't stay on Celestius for a couple of days. It's becoming painfully clear that the Reaper isn't in a hurry to murder me." "I'll call you later then. Game command. Request teleport home." Hawk and the beach vanished, there was the usual blurry minute of transition, and then I was standing in the great hall of my castle. I hurried towards the nearest mirror and tapped it, but I ordered it to call Nathan not Cassandra. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Thirty-one –––––––– "Hi Jex." Nathan's face smiled out of the mirror in front of me. "I was hoping you'd ..." I didn't let him finish the sentence. "I've thought of something terrifying. Are you sure that no other players can eavesdrop on this conversation?" "Are you alone in your castle?" "Yes." "Then it's impossible for other players to spy on you." "Good. Can you get Kwame to join me here?" Nathan frowned. "It's against protocol for a player to request a particular Game Tech by name." "Whether it's against protocol or not, we urgently need to discuss this with a Game Tech, and that Game Tech has to be Kwame because of his specific knowledge." "Oh. Right then." Nathan turned away from me to do something. I waited impatiently for a minute, and then Kwame appeared next to me. "You requested the presence of an appropriate Game Tech," he said. "Yes. We need an urgent conference about the Reaper." "Is player Hawk joining us?" asked Kwame. "No, he isn't," I said grimly. "Hawk has to be excluded from this. Please follow my logic and tell me if it's right or wrong. The Reaper used an automated process to change himself from a Game Tech into a player with a new identity." "That is correct," said Kwame. Nathan listened in anxious silence as I continued talking. "We believe the Reaper envied the Founder Players because they got the public accolades that he was denied." "That is correct," repeated Kwame. "Therefore, when the Reaper gave himself a new player identity, he'd ideally wish it to be that of a Founder Player." Kwame hesitated, clearly considering saying something, but settled for the standard reply. "That is correct." "There aren't any new player names on the list of Founder Players, and the automated process used by the Reaper couldn't have deleted or replaced an existing Founder Player." This time, I didn't give Kwame the chance to say anything, I just swept on. "What about a Founder Player who wasn't in Game at the time?" Kwame stared at me for a second before speaking. "Moment." Nathan looked appalled. "The Reaper changed himself into a player just after the bombs exploded. Hawk wasn't in the Game then. You think that the Reaper has replaced Hawk?" "I don't want to be right," I wailed. We endured at least two full minutes of agony before Kwame spoke again. "Unfortunately, it would have been possible for the Reaper to take Hawk's place in Game during his absence." "If the Reaper did take his place," I asked tensely, "what would have happened to the real Hawk when he entered Game?" "His stream of consciousness would have been unable to enter its designated position in the Game system," said Kwame. "His mind would not have survived." There was a long silence. "Could that really have happened?" asked Nathan. "Do we have the real Hawk in Game, or do we have the Reaper pretending to be Hawk? The Reaper will have been watching the Founder Players for centuries, so he'd know how to act the part of Hawk." "There've been a few times lately when I thought Hawk was behaving oddly," I said miserably. "He got in a ridiculous panic over me visiting Merlin, when he should know perfectly well that Merlin is only interested in Stella." "Player Jex, you must be aware that player Hawk has grown deeply attached to you," said Kwame. "The constant stress of the Reaper situation would explain his overreaction to a perceived threat to your relationship." In other circumstances, I might have blushed, but I was far too worried to be embarrassed. "Yes, but was that Hawk overreacting due to stress, or the Reaper misjudging the part he was playing? Is there a way of examining Hawk's consciousness stream to see who he is? Can you see what he's thinking?" "No," said Kwame. "Constreams are variable format data, changing their structure from instant to instant, which makes it impossible to access and interpret the data in any particular segment." I didn't understand any of that except the word no. That was enough. "Hawk's told me that people can't change their fundamental personality while they're in Game. He said it was because Game stores the basic parameters of your personality." "That is a gross over-simplification of a complex issue," said Kwame. "But something like that happens," I said. "Can you check the parameters of Hawk's personality before he left Game against those when he re-entered? See if the numbers are the same?" "Describing the personality characteristics as either parameters or numbers is seriously misleading," said Kwame, "but we can attempt a comparison. This may take a little time." Kwame vanished. I stood there, still staring tensely at the spot where he'd been. "My impression is that personality characteristics are a sort of cross between a fluid, multi-dimensional shape and a set of equations," said Nathan. He was just an image in a mirror, so I couldn't strangle him. I had to settle for glaring at him. "Shut up, Nathan." "I'm worried about Hawk too," he said. "I just thought it would help if I explained what Kwame is trying to compare." "Well, it doesn't." We waited in silence until eventually Kwame reappeared. "There are noticeable mismatches between the two sets of personality characteristics." I felt my hands clench into fists. "So the Reaper has taken Hawk's place?" "Not necessarily," said Kwame. "Hawk's personality could have changed during his time outside Game. You wouldn't usually expect significant shifts in just a few days, but Hawk went through a series of dramatic and deeply emotional events." I tried to relax my hands, but my fingers didn't seem to want to move. Nathan groaned. "So, how do we work out whether Hawk is acting oddly because he's scared he'll lose Jex, or whether it's because he's really the Reaper?" "I'll ask him to fight something," I said. "That will soon tell us if he's the real Hawk or not." "The Reaper will have taken part in test combats against many Game creatures over the centuries," said Kwame. "He would be reasonably convincing in a fight." "I'm sure the Reaper could beat most standard Game creatures," I said, "but Hawk is the only person in Game to have ever defeated the Kraken solo." "You intend to ask Hawk to fight the Kraken?" Kwame thought for a moment. "If the Reaper is masquerading as Hawk, he could still defeat the Kraken using his deletion weapon." "I've watched the replays of Hawk fighting the Kraken dozens of times," I said. "It took him twenty minutes of combat to wear the creature down and go for the death blow. What would happen if the Reaper used his deletion weapon? Would the Kraken drop dead at the first scratch?" "That is correct," said Kwame. "Then that wouldn't look a very convincing fight. The Reaper would either have to make an excuse not to fight the Kraken at all, or fight using an ordinary weapon for a while before grabbing a plausible time to use the deletion one. How long do you think he could last solo against the Kraken? Two minutes, possibly three or even five, but definitely not twenty." Kwame nodded. "It should certainly be possible for a team of watching Game Techs to determine if a victory against the Kraken was legitimate or achieved with the aid of a deletion weapon." "I'll call Hawk right away then." I was desperate to get this over with, so I'd know whether Hawk was alive or dead. "Player Jex," said Kwame, "you must be very careful. If the Reaper has replaced Hawk, then he could use his deletion weapon to erase your mind from the Game." "If the Reaper has replaced Hawk, then he has the chance of spending eternity as an adored Founder Player. He won't want to give himself away by murdering me." "That is correct," said Kwame. "However, if the Reaper realizes you suspect him, then he may feel he has nothing to lose by killing you." Nathan was frowning. "There's one big problem with your plan. Hawk could be his real self and still refuse to fight the Kraken. If I had a girlfriend, and she suddenly called me and demanded I fight a hulking great Game monster, I know I'd refuse." I considered this. "Point. I'll ask Hawk to give me a hunting lesson. There's no reason for either Hawk or the Reaper to refuse to do that. Then I'll gradually work up to asking him to fight the Kraken." "And what if he does fight the Kraken and loses?" asked Nathan. "Just because the real Hawk managed to kill it once, that doesn't mean he'll manage it every time." "The real Hawk would be doing his very best to win," I said. "Hawk the Unvanquished wouldn't want me to remember the day I agreed to be in an exclusive relationship with him as the day I watched him defeated by the Kraken." | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Thirty-two –––––––– Hawk and I were wearing matching outfits in silver chain mail that was surprisingly light and supple to wear. We were in one of the hunting zones of Celestius, wading through knee deep grass, with scattered trees around us. "You look nervous about this hunting trip," said Hawk. I was far more than just nervous. I was sick with tension. I was afraid I'd flinch away from Hawk and make him suspicious. I was totally terrified of discovering Hawk really was the Reaper. Fortunately, if I appeared nervous, there was a good explanation for it. "You're a legendary warrior. I've never been in a genuine fight before. I'm going to make a complete fool of myself." I looked warily round at the trees, wondering what might be hiding under cover. I couldn't see anything more dangerous than a bush with nasty looking thorns, but we were here so I could fight something. Logically, that meant there was something around to fight. Hawk stopped by a large rock, and sat down on it. "Forget whether you're likely to make a fool of yourself or not, because there's a far more important question. Are you sure that you want to try hunting? You mustn't feel under pressure to fight Game monsters because I do it. I like tackling challenges, so I do the warrior thing. Sometimes I get hurt, and that can be very painful. I don't enjoy pain one bit, but I've learned to handle it. Many people can't." He paused for a moment. "Take Fleur for example. She spent years suffering pain in real life and entered Game to escape it. Her only Game death was when Hercules killed her, and I've told you how she reacted to that. She thinks that hunting, deliberately risking being hurt for no real purpose, is silly. She's right. I'd understand if you decide to go back to your castle right now." I listened to what Hawk was saying, but I knew I couldn't run away back to my castle. Hunting in general might have no real purpose, but this hunting trip definitely did. It was worth suffering some pain to find out if I was in a relationship with Hawk the Unvanquished or Hawk the Reaper. The big danger was that I wouldn't just get hurt but killed, because that would bring this trip to an abrupt end. The experience of being in Game mirrored real life as exactly as possible. Hawk had repeatedly warned me that a Game death was very painful and the first Game death was especially traumatic. If I was killed hunting, I knew the real Hawk would be worried and insist on me taking a long break to recover, while the Reaper would know it was hardest to imitate Hawk when he was fighting and would grab the excuse to abandon the hunt. I'd be left in an agony of suspense, still unsure if this was the real Hawk or if he'd been lost to data oblivion. Hawk, or the Reaper, gave me an earnest look. "What I'm trying to say is that my feelings for you don't depend on whether or not you want to hunt. It might be fun to battle lethal monsters together, but there are plenty of other experiences we could share in Game." He gave a strangely anxious laugh. "But I'm assuming far too much here. I've admitted that I love you, but you haven't given me a hint of how much you care about me." "Don't be silly. The fact I've agreed that we should enter into an exclusive relationship is a very big hint that I have deep feelings for you. Whether I decide I'd like to do more hunting in future or not, going on a hunting trip with you today is important to me. I've spent years watching the replays of your famous Game combats. Today is a special day for us, so I want to bring the past and future together by having my first hunting lesson with you, and then ..." I broke off and gave him a pleading look. "After I've done some hunting myself, can I watch Hawk the Unvanquished fight something?" He looked eager rather than reluctant. The ridiculously pleased expression on his face reminded me of the way Michael had looked back in the real world when I told him I'd have been tempted to have a date with him. I'd been grimly resigned until now, braced to find out that Hawk was gone and the Reaper was wearing his image. Weirdly, the fact it was such an awful idea, made me feel it had to be true. Now I was far more hopeful. The Reaper had known Hawk for four hundred years, so of course he would be able to imitate him, but that expression belonged to Michael not Hawk. I couldn't bet the lives of everyone on Celestius on a fleeting facial expression, I needed much better evidence, but still ... "You'll let me show off?" Hawk asked with a grin. "You'll let Hawk the Unvanquished demonstrate his big weapon for you?" I was puzzled by the sound of his voice when he said that. "Am I missing something in what you just said?" He laughed. "In my day, that would have been a suggestive remark." I was almost convinced. This was Hawk making the old joke about him being centuries out of date. On the other hand, the Reaper was an original Game designer, so he must be even older than Hawk. He'd know all about the past as well. I managed a smile. "I'll not only let you show off. I insist on it. Promise you'll give me my own private demonstration of Hawk wielding his mighty weapon." He made a choking noise. "What?" I asked. "Innuendoes," he whimpered. "I know you didn't mean what that implied but ... Be very careful you don't say anything like that to Hercules, or any of the rest of the family. It's like the jokes about men wanting big towers on their castles." I blinked. "It means that? But why? A tower sort of makes sense, but a sword doesn't." "It's not worth worrying about the psychology behind it," said Hawk. "You just don't want to give people the wrong idea." He stood up. "Now, if you get serious about hunting, fighting, or any heavily physical activities in Game, you'll find there's a lot of training involved. Today, we'll just let you try fighting something easy and get a feel of the experience. That avoids you being bored by weeks or months of preparation, just to find you hate the whole thing at the end of it." He smiled at me. "The downside is that you won't have a clue what you're doing. You'll be hopeless, but don't worry about it. If you find you enjoy the challenge of this, then I'll help you train, and I promise you'll end up a good hunter and fighter. You're intelligent and you think fast, which are the two key things you need. Everything else is achieved by pure hard work." "Do I get a weapon now?" I asked. Hawk had Durendal in its sheath on his back, a one-handed broadsword at his left side, a slender rapier at his right side, and dagger sheaths on both forearms. The man was a walking weapon store, while I was totally unarmed. Given my worries about him being the Reaper, this was unnerving, though I knew having a weapon wouldn't help me if it came to fighting him. I was a total novice, and would stand no chance of winning against an experienced fighter. Hawk drew the broadsword and handed it to me. "No shield?" I asked. "There's a lot of skill involved in using a shield properly in combat. For your first lesson, it's best if you concentrate your attention on using your sword." I frowned down at the broadsword. "If I'm not using a shield, wouldn't I be better off with a two-handed sword like Durendal?" "Absolutely not. A two-handed sword is one of the heaviest weapons in Game, the blade is massive, and when you get it moving fast there's a lot of momentum involved. I don't want you cutting your own head off, so you're starting with a weapon that's much lighter and easier to control." I looked around at the waving grasses. "What am I supposed to fight?" "Over there." Hawk pointed. "It's dozing in the shade of that tree." I squinted into the sun, and saw a barely visible, black furry object lying among thick grass. "It's a bear. No yellow stripes, so it isn't a bumble bear." Hawk laughed. "I'm not insulting you by sending you up against a bumble bear. They're so fat they move at a snail's pace, and they keep falling over their own feet. If you lie down and refuse to defend yourself, a bumble bear might manage to scratch you a little, but it's really far more dangerous fighting a tree trunk. You're here to fight a battle bear. Those are plain black, except for the white markings on the ears and chest." "I see." I stared across at the battle bear. "It seems a shame to wake it up when it's happily dozing in the sunshine." "The bear isn't happy," said Hawk. "It isn't sad either. It isn't thinking or feeling anything at all, because its every movement is directly controlled by the Game system. At the beginning of Game, every creature was like that, but once the First Wave settled successfully into Game people worked out that we had immortality here. The whole population of Earth was trying to move in at once, the Game needed more worlds fast, and the Game creatures were given their own artificial intelligence." I listened uneasily as he continued. "Using autonomous artificial intelligence meant the Game system no longer had to run each creature's movements directly. A.A.I. meant we were able to have masses of butterflies and bees, flocks of seagulls, and shoals of fish, each with their own tiny consciousness stream in Game." I didn't say a word. I was starting to feel sick. Hawk laughed. "But then the Game Techs got a few surprises. The wildlife was set up to have natural lives, including eating, breeding, and having a limited lifespan. First came the simple problems, like creatures breeding too fast, so the Game Techs hastily added automatic population limits by making fertility dependent on the number of a particular species that was already around. Then came the real shock of Game creatures starting to evolve. They couldn't change their appearance but they could change their behaviour." I finally spoke. I knew I'd be safer keeping my mouth shut, but it was my life, and my decision what risks I should take. We were inside a hunting zone. Kwame had a team of Game Techs watching every move we made, and had locked down every normal way out except through Game death and resurrection. If the Reaper killed me, then they would have him trapped, and could deal with him once and for all. "I didn't realize you knew so much technical stuff," I said. "You're sounding like Nathan." "I only know these things because I lived through several decades where Celestius suffered from one A.A.I. problem after another. It wasn't just that the dangerous creatures in the hunting zones developed better attack tactics and became far more lethal. Previously harmless wildlife in ordinary areas of Game started to become a threat too. There were the hummingbirds that evolved to have a taste for blood instead of nectar. There were the bees that started attacking in swarms and stinging people to death. I'm not even going to hint at why we don't have ravens on Celestius any longer." Hawk gave his one-shouldered shrug. "The Game Techs went back to using direct system control on all the dangerous creatures in hunting zones. Outside the hunting zones, they kept putting extra limitations on the A.A.I. wildlife to stop them evolving, and removed a few species that persistently caused trouble. In the end, they got everything working smoothly. Anyway, my point is that you don't have to worry about being unkind to the bear because it has no thoughts or feelings." I wasn't sure what to think. The Reaper would have been one of the Game Techs making those changes to the wildlife. Hawk was only a player, but I could believe that a hunter paid very close attention to changes in the creatures he fought. "Go and fight your bear now," Hawk ordered. "I'll be right here, watching your back." He sat down on the rock again, and relaxed, seeming amused. I looked at my sword, took a deep breath, and started walking forward. "Don't take your eyes off the bear for a single second," Hawk warned me. "When it spots you, it'll charge." I watched the patch of fur in the grass, hardly daring to blink as I took a few more paces forward. The bear seemed to go straight from sleeping to ferocious attack, leaping up and bounding straight at me at startling speed. I gripped my sword tightly, and swung it at the beast, while dodging sideways. I was aiming for the bear's throat, but it reared upwards at the last second, so I struck its chest instead. The bear landed heavily on the ground beside me. It was up again an instant later, advancing on me again, and I could see where my blade had left a red gash across the white-furred chest. I took two rapid steps backwards, and then stabbed with my sword. I missed the neck again, but this time the blade went deeper into the chest, and was yanked out of my hands as the bear recoiled. I grabbed desperately for the sword hilt, trying to retrieve it, but the bear was on me again, its front paws knocking me over backwards. I lay helpless on the ground, the bear poised over me, and there was an instant when time seemed to stop. I was aware of a mass of sensations. The tearing pain from claws raking my left shoulder. The rancid stench of the bear's breath. The sight of the bear's white tufted ears folding backwards to flatten themselves against the side of its head. The furious, red eyes looking into mine, as it drew back and bared its teeth for the kill. I was braced for my first Game death, when there was a flash of steel. The bear went limp and collapsed on top of me. "You did well," said Hawk, strolling over to stand next to me. I lay there, half buried under the crushing weight of the dead bear, and totally bewildered. "How did you kill it? You weren't anywhere near us." "A throwing dagger." He pointed at the blade buried in the bear's forehead. "Battle bears have a vulnerable point there. When it reared back, it gave me a beautiful clear shot." Hawk lifted the bear carcass up while I crawled out. I was feeling giddy from shock, and there was a burning pain in my left shoulder, but my arm still seemed to be working. "Thanks." "I promised to watch your back. The bear scratched the left side of your neck a little. Did its claws get through the chain mail as well?" "Yes." I stood up, and loosened the fastenings of my armour to expose my shoulder. Twisting my neck round awkwardly, I could just see where blood oozed from a set of claw marks. "Maybe I should wear plate armour another time," I said. "I find you take less damage from each hit with plate armour, but you get hit far more because you're slower at dodging. You'll have to make your own decision on what armour to use, but I like chain mail as a compromise between weight and protection. Wearing leather can work well too, but the way Hercules has all the gaps to show off his rippling muscles is ridiculous. It's no wonder that I can always kill him in a fight." Hawk leaned close to examine my neck and shoulder. "There are two ways to deal with injuries in hunting zones. One way is to teleport back to your home where you'll get automatic accelerated healing. The other way is to just put a bandage on it and keep hunting." I couldn't go back to my castle until I knew if this was Hawk or the Reaper. "I'll try the bandage. I'm here to get the real hunting experience." Hawk went back to the rock that he'd been sitting on, tapped the side of it, and an opening appeared. I gave a startled gasp, and he laughed. "The large rocks contain emergency medical supplies. It's no real advantage in a hunt. It just saves us from having to carry bandage packs." Hawk took out a thin, flat, beige object, and brought it back to me. "You just choose a bandage the right size and shape, and press it down over the wound like this." I frowned as he applied the bandage. "It looks like an outdated, adhesive bandage." "The Game Techs haven't bothered changing the appearance of bandages for a century or two." Hawk stepped back, and I studied my shoulder. My wound was still throbbing, but the bandage seemed to be keeping the bleeding under control. "If you stayed in the hunting ground for a day or two," said Hawk, "you'd probably find that wound got infected, but you should be all right for a few hours. Battle bears don't have poisonous bites or stings. If you get hurt by something that does, you need to head straight home to heal up." I nodded. Hawk retrieved my sword, cleaned the blade on the grass, and returned it to the sheath at his side. "So what did you think of hunting?" "I've never felt so aware of everything that was happening around me," I said. "It was like all my senses were heightened. I was pretty useless at the fighting though. You literally had to save my neck." "It was your first fight, Jex, and a battle bear is quite a nasty opponent. I wouldn't have let the fight go on as long as I did without intervening if I hadn't been impressed by how well you were doing. I hadn't taken the training you did for the re-enactment fights very seriously, but you've obviously learned something from it." Hawk looked up at the sky with a reminiscent smile. "You did far better than I did in my first fight in Game. I was as smug as your friend, Falcon, as I headed into the hunting zone. I was an obsessive gamer, an expert on combat in a dozen of the old style games, and convinced I could handle anything in this one too." He laughed. "In the games I'd played, it was easy for a new player to kill small creatures with a few random waves of a sword, and I expected that approach to work here too. I found a lesser mountain lion, charged, waved my sword, and got a huge shock when the lion didn't drop dead. Game was designed to mimic reality as closely as possible. In this case, the reality of a person using a sword to fight a dangerous creature. Waving my sword around randomly was useless, and when the lion clawed me it really hurt!" "It does," I agreed. "I ended up dying horribly, and it was unbelievably painful. All of us who were obsessive gamers had similar experiences, and some sensibly decided to concentrate on different things after that, like socializing with the other players. They said there was no point in fighting monsters if you didn't gain any treasure, or flashy weapons and armour that other people didn't have. I was stubborn, and found the idea of socializing even more frightening than being eaten by lions, so I started learning to use a sword properly." He grinned, and moved his eyebrows up and down suggestively. "Now would you like to fight another battle bear, or shall I demonstrate my skill with a large weapon?" "I'd like the demonstration." Hawk did the routine of holding up his right hand and summoning Durendal by name. "Why do you summon Durendal like that," I asked. "You just drew the one-handed sword from its sheath." Hawk spoke in heroic tones. "Because this is no ordinary blade. This is Durendal, and it was bathed in the life blood of the Kraken!" He dropped the dramatic act and returned to using his normal voice. "Because you carry the sheath for a two-handed sword on your back. Drawing the sword in a hurry is tricky, and several people sliced their own necks doing it, so the Game Techs put the voice command thing in to stop them whining." I gurgled with laughter. "Durendal is just a standard, two-handed sword. I requested a customized hand grip, but other than that it's no different from the weapons any beginner in Game can have." He paused. "Now what would you like me to fight for you? How about a tyrannosaurus rex?" I forced an eager smile. "I'd love to watch you fighting the Kraken." "The Kraken!" Hawk stared at me. "You're joking, aren't you?" "You know I had an image of your solo fight with the Kraken on the wall of my room back in real life," I said. "Actually being in Game and watching you fight it would be an incredible experience." Hawk scratched his right ear, looking nervous. "All the chasing round after the Reaper has made me miss a lot of training sessions, so I'm not at peak fitness. I need every tiny advantage I can get to stand a chance of killing the Kraken. You're sure you don't want to settle for me killing a dinosaur?" I listened uneasily to his excuses. "If you could at least try to fight the Kraken, it would make today perfect for me." Hawk sighed. "You're a hard woman to please, Jex." He looked around the grassy landscape. "I think the sea is this way." He led the way, and I followed unhappily. Hawk had been saying exactly what Nathan had said earlier. Hawk the Unvanquished didn't really win every fight. If he lost to the Kraken within the first few minutes, that might mean he was the Reaper, or it might just mean that he hadn't been lucky this time. I needed a definite answer here, both for the safety of Celestius and for my own peace of mind. We reached a small cliff top, and stopped to look down at the waves crashing in on a rocky shore. Hawk's face took on a grim expression. "Game command. Creature request. Named opponent. Kraken." The shoreline below us changed. The rocks at the edge of the sea turned from grey to black, and then tripled in size. The beach itself turned to a flat expanse of shale. "Jex, you should stay on this cliff top outside the combat area," said Hawk. "The Kraken anchors itself to the rocks when it's fighting, to prevent it being dragged onto the land. It won't come anywhere near you." I nodded. He took a deep breath. "Wish me luck." "I do," I said. "I really do." I surrendered to my emotions, and reached up to give Hawk a brief kiss on the lips. He grinned at me in response, and then turned to walk along a narrow path down to the beach. As he arrived, something large surfaced in the sea, with great, green, saucer-like eyes. The Kraken had awakened and was studying its opponent. Hawk adjusted his grip on Durendal to hold it firmly with both hands, and then shouted out to sea. "Lord of the waves, I challenge you!" The Kraken responded by moving slowly in towards the shore. Two huge tentacles wrapped themselves round the larger rocks, while its bulbous body moved into the shallow water, and the six remaining tentacles readied themselves to attack. Hawk was moving now, a tiny figure compared to the bulk of the Kraken. He darted in amongst the tentacles, weaving to and fro between them, slashing at them with the two-handed sword before jumping back to safety. I'd watched the replays of him doing this dozens of times, but it was very different standing here on the cliff top, with the sound of the Kraken's piercing screeches in my ears, and the sea wind blowing the cold, salt spray into my eyes. This was no replay, there was no guaranteed outcome, and I could see what a deadly dance this was. One mistake, one slip, one error of judgement, and the Kraken would have Hawk in its grasp. I was counting seconds now. With each one that went by, it was more likely that it was genuinely Hawk fighting on that beach. My count reached one minute, and then two. I could see the Kraken's tentacles were bleeding in a dozen places, oozing thick greenish-black blood onto the beach. That was good because the blood loss would weaken and slow the Kraken. That was bad because the Kraken's blood could seep through gaps in a player's armour and burn their skin. The silver clad figure on the beach was working doubly hard now, dodging both the attacking tentacles and the toxic pools of blood that had collected among the rocks. I was still counting seconds. After Hawk defeated the Kraken solo, all the best hunters in Game had studied the replays and tried to match the feat themselves. Many of them had died in seconds, a few dozen had made it to the three minute mark, but no one had lasted longer than five. When my count reached three minutes, I was almost certain it was Hawk on that beach. In another two minutes, I'd be absolutely sure. I was chanting the seconds aloud now, my words barely audible above the Kraken's cries, but I broke off as I saw Hawk stumble on a loose rock. He staggered, fell, rolled sideways to escape one lashing tentacle, only to have another beating down at him. I held my breath, thinking he'd lost the fight at that point, but Hawk lay on his back, stabbing upwards with Durendal, and cut deep into the threatening tentacle. As it recoiled, he rolled sideways again to miss a cascade of lethal blood, and was back on his feet an instant later. I'd lost track of the seconds now, but I didn't care about the time any longer. I couldn't believe that anyone but Hawk could have come that close to disaster in a combat with the Kraken and managed to recover. I was jubilant now, cheering every time Hawk inflicted another wound on the Kraken, yelling encouragement that he couldn't possibly hear. The battle continued for what seemed like an endless time. I could see that Hawk was tiring, each thrust of Durendal was visibly more difficult, but the Kraken was weakening too. Then the pattern of the combat changed. Hawk was feigning attacking moves but not following them through. I'd seen this before in the replays of his last fight with the Kraken. The long attrition fight had achieved its purpose, the movements of the Kraken's tentacles were far slower now, and Hawk was waiting for the right moment to take the huge gamble of committing himself to the final attack. That moment came as a tentacle swung low across the rocks. Hawk didn't dodge this time, but leapt forward to land on the suckered skin. He stabbed down at it with Durendal, and the tentacle drew back in pain, carrying him upwards to the vast bulk of the Kraken's head. Poised there precariously, Hawk raised his sword and thrust it dagger like into the nearest eye of the Kraken. Not into the centre, but diagonally into the corner, where the massive blade could reach the Kraken's brain. The Kraken reeled backwards, screeching and tentacles flailing, sending Hawk crashing down on to the beach. He lay there motionless, as the Kraken's tentacles folded in like a dead spider and it sank under the waves. I ran down the path to the beach, screaming Hawk's name, and saw him lift his head. He struggled to his feet, and I threw myself at him. "Hawk, you're alive!" | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Thirty-three –––––––– "It was a stupid idea," said Hawk, lounging in a chair and grinning at me. "When the Reaper changed himself into a player, he didn't know that I'd defrosted. He wouldn't have tried to take my place in Game when he thought I was still there myself." I adjusted the single shoulder strap of my ankle length, silk dress, which glittered silver with hints of blue. I was getting ready for Cassandra's promised party to welcome me to Celestius and formally present me to the family. For the last ten days, Cassandra had only been making the vaguest of comments about this party, saying it took a very long time to organize these things properly. Yesterday, I'd called her to say I was in an exclusive relationship with Hawk. Strangely enough, she'd immediately told me that everything was ready for the party to happen this evening. Of course Cassandra was a close friend of Hawk. "The Reaper could easily have discovered you'd left Game," I said. "He'd have been watching your every move because you were leading the players' investigation. He could have got suspicious because you'd stopped making broadcasts, or spotted a clue in one of the reports. After that, he just had to try tracking your identity number to confirm that you weren't in Game any longer." I still wasn't sure if I was happy with my dress. Cassandra and Hawk had said that I should wear whatever I liked, but Celestius would probably have its own unique traditions for party clothes, and I wanted to fit in with the other Founder Players. "All right," said Hawk, "it was perfectly reasonable for you to be worried the Reaper might have taken my place, but you only needed to ask me a few questions to prove I was me." I wove a strand of sapphires through my feathered hair, and studied the effect in a wall mirror. "Asked you what exactly? What question could I ask where I was totally sure that you knew the answer, but the Reaper didn't? A question where there was no chance of him guessing the right answer? If you thought that I was the Reaper, what would you ask me?" Hawk considered this. "Point." I pinned a sapphire flower to the strap of my dress. "Is this neckline too revealing?" "Not in my opinion." I frowned at my reflection. This dress was supposed to cling to me, but was it clinging too much? I reminded myself that my mother thought it was perfect for me, and she was an expert on clothes. "Anyway, it was definitely worth killing the Kraken." Hawk had a sickeningly smug look on his face. "The way you ran down to that beach and threw yourself at me was unforgettable." I sighed. This must be about the hundredth time that Hawk had said that. "I'm not saying that it couldn't have been even better," he added. "You'd probably have taken things a lot further if you hadn't known a whole team of Game Techs were spying on us, and I'd have been in a better state to enjoy it if I hadn't just been knocked senseless by a tentacle, but it was still a glorious moment." I sighed again. "I was a little relieved that's all. There's no need to keep gloating about it." "I've been watching the replays," said Hawk happily. "I've seen the look on your face. You love me. You've met Michael, but you still love me. That's amazing." I was tempted to throw a cushion at him, but I was in a good mood. Not quite as odiously cheerful a mood as Hawk was in, but still a pretty good mood. We'd made no progress on finding the Reaper, but we'd proved he wasn't Hawk, and that was enough for me right now. "I'm ready," I said. Hawk bounced to his feet and put his arm round me. "Game command. Request group teleport to the Grand Ballroom." There was the usual moment of disorientation as we swapped location, and then I took in my surroundings and blinked. "I thought the Grand Ballroom would be a grand room." "Originally it was," said Hawk, "but the Game Techs have given Celestius a whole series of improvements over the centuries. Somewhere along the way, the Grand Ballroom lost its roof, and turned into a dancing lawn surrounded by formal flowerbeds. After all, there was no need for a roof when we can ask the Game Techs to make the weather warm and dry. Since then, a whole series of extra garden areas have been added until it's a bit of a maze." "I see what you mean." We were standing at the top of a flight of steps, which led down to a huge flat area of grass. Around it were a random scattering of tables and chairs, while a host of paths led off into the surrounding gardens. I could glimpse marbled columns, fountains, and statues dotted among the trees and flowerbeds. In the far distance, the evening sunlight glittered on the surface of a lake. There were a lot of Founder Players sitting in the seats around the edge of the dancing lawn. As Hawk took my arm, and we started walking down the steps, they all turned their heads to look in our direction. I instinctively tensed and stopped moving. "Relax," said Hawk. "Everything should be very peaceful at the start. We'll just be exploring the gardens and chatting to a few people." I forced myself to carry on walking down the steps at his side. "What happens later?" "At sunset, there'll be fireworks. After that, Cassandra will formally present you to the family. The dancing will start when the triple moons rise, and carry on all night." "The night on Celestius is only two hours long." "Normally it's only two hours long," said Hawk, "but on party nights the sun doesn't rise until we're ready to go home. Our record party night was forty-five hours long, but that was because Fleur finally agreed to marry Helios about seventeen hours into the party. Everyone thought it would be a wonderful idea to carry straight on with holding the wedding. Well, everyone except Hercules, and I threw him in the lake." We reached the lush green grass of the dancing lawn. I looked anxiously round at the Founder Players, studying their clothes, and was stunned by the assortment of styles. The women wore outfits ranging from tasteful white cascading drapes to garish metallic clothes that flashed in different colours. There were some men in highly functional armour, others in luxurious silks and velvets, and a few wearing the kilts that were popular on worlds like Highland and Jacobite. Hawk laughed at the stunned expression on my face. "I told you there was no need to worry about your clothes. Everyone wears whatever they like at these parties. I stick to wearing chain mail and carrying Durendal, because I prefer to be armed when I'm near Hercules." He paused. "Actually, when I look at the family in their party gear, I can see the point of the formal dress code for our meetings at the Amphitheatre." Cassandra walked across the grass to join us. She was wearing a sari that had strands of gold running through its deep red material, and her long dark hair was tumbling loose around her shoulders. "Jex, welcome to your first party on Celestius. Your dress is beautiful." "Thank you," I said. "My mother helped me choose it. She'll be delighted to hear that you liked it." "We're expecting all but one of the family to be here to meet you," added Cassandra. "All but one?" Hawk raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean Marcus is having one of his sociable spells?" Cassandra nodded, turned towards me, and spoke rapidly in confidential tones. "Chiron is consistently troubled to an extent that he can't be permitted to leave his castle, but he's always pleased to have visitors. Marcus goes through a cycle of behaviour. He locks himself away for a long time, not answering calls or accepting any visitors, but then there'll be a period where he wants to talk to people and is willing to control his behaviour. During those times, we try to include him in family gatherings." She raised her voice back to normal speech levels. "Jex, I'd suggest you meet Marcus relatively early in the evening, since he may become in urgent need of a rest at any time. I'm sure Hawk will be there to ... introduce you." "Oh yes," said Hawk. "I'll be around to give Jex any ... introductions she needs. I assume you're arranging the usual rota of people to keep an eye on Marcus. I'm sorry I can't help this time." "Of course I expect you to stay at Jex's side this evening," said Cassandra. "Thor, Pendragon, and Ulysses will be keeping an eye on Marcus." She smiled at me, then walked away to join the bulky, blond-haired, figure of Thor. I turned to Hawk, and caught him looking round with a harried expression. "What's the matter? Marcus isn't that bad is he? Surely I'll be safe with Hawk the Unvanquished guarding me." Hawk rubbed his forehead. "I'm not worried about physical attacks, from Marcus or anyone else. I'm just concerned what the family may say to you." We walked on across the grass, and followed one of the paths into the gardens. The heavy, sweet scent of lavender hit me, and I saw that miniature, purple flowered hedges lined the path. Insects flew busily between the flowers, and a hummingbird swooped low past my shoulder. "You mean that you're worried what Hercules may say to me," I said, "but you shouldn't be. Cassandra's messaged all the Founder Players to tell them I'm in an exclusive relationship with you. If Hercules starts telling me malicious things about you, I just have to tell Cassandra that he's trying to cause trouble between us, and the wrath of the Sisterhood would descend on him." "That's true." Hawk looked more cheerful now. "What would the Sisterhood do to Hercules anyway?" "Put him on trial for breaching the rules of Celestius. If he was found guilty, then he'd be punished by a suitable period of being confined to his castle. Hercules would normally have the option of leaving Celestius to live on another Game world until his sentence was completed, but that won't be possible given the current situation with the Reaper." I was puzzled. "Surely someone under house arrest can't just change world and live freely again." "These punishments aren't proper house arrests," said Hawk. "The guilty party is just warned to stay in their castle." "So what happens if Hercules ignores the warning and leaves his castle? Things aren't the way they were during the ten year trial period of Game. The Sisterhood can't send a mob of their friends and husbands over to kill him." Hawk didn't say a word. He had an expression of exaggerated innocence on his face. I stared at him in disbelief. "I can't believe the Game Techs would let that happen." Hawk led me into a flower covered arbour and we sat down on a wooden seat. "The Game Techs accept that there has to be a system of keeping order on Celestius. They don't like us killing people, but things very rarely go that far these days." "Can't the Game Techs enforce the house arrests themselves?" "According to Game Tech regulations, they can only impose house arrest on players in cases like Chiron and Marcus. Other Game worlds remove resident status from troublemakers, which usually makes them behave better on their next world, though stubborn cases end up somewhere like Havoc or in Game prison. The Game Techs don't want to set the precedent of removing Celestius resident status from a Founder Player, or throwing one of us in Game prison, so they put up with us dealing with our problems ourselves." He laughed. "The Game Techs do use the odd minor sanction themselves from time to time, like when Poseidon woke up and found his castle was infested with ants, but ..." He broke off his sentence as two people looked into the arbour. I tensed, but Hawk's smile reassured me that they were his friends not his enemies. "Jex, meet Artemis and her husband, Sword." They said a few words of welcome to me, and then Artemis turned to Hawk. "I heard you'd been fighting the Kraken again. I thought you said that fighting it once was more than enough." "I did," said Hawk, "but I had to kill it again to impress Jex." I blushed. "You had to kill the Kraken to get Jex to agree to having an exclusive relationship with you!" Sword glanced at Artemis. "I'm deeply thankful you didn't insist on anything quite that dramatic from me." "So you should be," Artemis teased him. "You wouldn't last thirty seconds against the Kraken." "Actually, it was fun fighting it again," said Hawk. "I'm getting nowhere tracking down the Reaper, so I could vent my frustration on the Kraken." There was a moment of depressed silence at the mention of the Reaper. "We've a message for you, Hawk," said Sword. "Beowulf wants to warn you that Venus is planning to have a chat with Jex." Hawk raised an eyebrow. "Since when is Beowulf on my side against Venus?" "Since you saved his life, Hawk," said Artemis. "As you've been roaming round the other worlds, acting as bait for the Reaper, you won't be aware there've been a few dramatic shifts in allegiances. Beowulf was critically ill when he entered Game, he'd have been killed by a high-speed defrost, so his opinion of you has changed." "Beowulf isn't the only one feeling that way," added Sword. "A lot of the family appreciate what you and Jex did to save Celestius. What you're still doing, attempting to trap the Reaper. Sadly, your increasing popularity has angered Venus." Sword turned his head, looking at something out of my view down the path. "That's unfortunate." Hawk stood up. "Venus is coming?" "No," said Sword. "It's Hercules. If you want to try to escape, we can delay him for you." Hawk nodded, grabbed my hand, and he towed me out of the arbour. We ran off down a narrow path lined with fragrant flowering roses, my speed limited by my long dress and the fact I was helpless with laughter. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Thirty-four –––––––– After we'd taken three random turnings, Hawk stopped by a large pool. A low, stone wall surrounded it, and in the centre a fountain shot jets of water droplets high into the air. It was a minute or two before I finally managed to stop laughing and speak. "Why did we run away from Hercules? I thought we'd agreed he wasn't a problem any longer." "I wasn't running away from Hercules," said Hawk. "I was running away from that conversation with Artemis and Sword. They were bound to start talking about the Reaper again, and I don't like lying to my friends." I perched on the stone wall, and watched the constantly shifting patterns of the fountain. "I like Artemis and Sword." "Cassandra, Artemis, and Sword are three of my closest friends." "Cassandra still seems to be on good terms with her first husband, Pendragon." Hawk sat next to me. "Yes, that marriage was always a friendship more than a passionate affair, so they remained friends after the split. Venus keeps making snide comments about that, but Thor is much too sensible to listen to her." "Venus again. Why were Sword and Artemis warning you about her?" "Because she's likely to be as big a problem as Hercules." "I've seen lots of images of Venus, but I don't know much about her." "Oh, yes," said Hawk sourly. "There are plenty of images of Venus around, with her famous cascades of blonde hair. Usually images of her surrounded by her adoring fans. Venus likes being adored." "You clearly don't like her. She doesn't like you either?" "Venus hates me even more than Hercules does. I failed to adore her enough. In fact, I once turned down her advances." "You turned down Venus?" I shook my head. "I thought you said that none of the female Founder Players had ever been interested in you." "Venus wasn't interested in me as a person. It happened the first year I fought in the Battle Arena, and half the family came to watch the final duel. Venus offered me her ribbons as a favour to carry in combat, but I turned them down. I'd been wearing Cassandra's scarf in all my previous duels. It would have been horribly rude to toss it aside for Venus's ribbons." He shrugged his right shoulder. "Anyway, everyone knew Venus was offering me more than her ribbons. She'd always sneered at me until then, but if I won the champion's crown of the Battle Arena then she'd forget about ghastly Michael and reward me with her attentions for an hour or two." "You didn't like that idea?" Hawk shuddered. "Definitely not. If it had been one of the other female Founder Players who have a rapid succession of partners, such as Helen, then it would have been a different situation. Helen's relationships are brief, light-hearted fun for both parties. The problem with Venus is that her favours come with a price tag. I've watched her pressure several of my friends into doing things they deeply regretted." He paused. "So I turned down Venus's offer. I tried to be polite about it, but she took the rejection as the ultimate public insult. She's hated me ever since. She won't like you either, because she'll see you as unfair new competition on Celestius." I frowned. "Cassandra said the Sisterhood voted unanimously in favour of making me a Founder Player. If Venus didn't want me coming here, why didn't she vote against it?" "Venus had no choice but to vote the same way as the rest of the Sisterhood. She's had a lot of conflicts with Sword over the centuries, and the situation came to a head at the last party here in the Grand Ballroom. Venus ambushed Sword in one of the bowers, and managed to kiss him just as Artemis arrived. Fortunately, Artemis wasn't fooled for a moment. She and Sword complained to the Sisterhood, and Venus was confined to her castle for three months. Her sentence has only just ended, so Venus has to play the good girl for a while." "Oh." I thought that over. "So Sword and Artemis are enemies of Venus, and friends of yours. That's why Beowulf gave them the message for you?" "Exactly. Beowulf wouldn't want to talk to me directly because there's a bit of history between us. Quite a lot of history in fact. I cut off his head once." Hawk grinned. "I'm afraid the family feuds and allegiances get complicated." I decided not to ask why Hawk had cut off Beowulf's head. "If it was possible to get a stress headache in Game, I think I'd get one from trying to understand your family politics." "All you really need to know is that Venus will grab any chance to talk to you tonight, and she'll do her best to turn you against me. Please, Jex, if anything worries you, give me the chance to tell my side of the story. I'll do my best to be honest with you." I sighed. "I can see this is going to be a really fun party." A group of men were walking down the path towards us. Romulus and Remus were at the back with their arms round each other, but I didn't recognize the other three. Hawk stood up and pointed at each man in turn. "Jex, you've already met Romulus and Remus. These are Narcissus, Destin, and Louis." I stood up as well. "I'm pleased to meet you." The men murmured greetings, and Louis gave a formal bow that included an exaggerated flourish of one arm. "Hawk," said Romulus. "We need to warn you that Venus is extremely displeased with you." "As in even more displeased than usual," said Remus. "I'd already heard about that," said Hawk. "I don't see why Venus is so annoyed with me. Given a high-speed defrost would have killed her ..." Louis spoke in a voice with a strong French accent. "At the risk of sounding like Hercules, I have to say you were never good with girls, Hawk." Hawk gave him an angry look. Louis raised both hands in surrender. "Don't slaughter me, oh mighty warrior. I just feel that given the current situation, someone should point out a fact you've been failing to notice for four centuries. Ever since you established your reputation as Hawk the Unvanquished, Venus has been more interested in you than in any other man. She's obviously going to be furious about you declaring undying love for another woman. Hopefully not furious enough to risk the anger of the Sisterhood, but you should still watch your step." I blinked. Nothing Hawk had said about Venus had suggested she was seriously interested in him. I turned to Hawk, and saw he looked equally bewildered. "But Venus has said so many dreadful things about Michael." Louis sighed. "That's because she kept making hopeful advances towards you, and you kept ignoring them." Hawk waved his hands in disbelief. "I didn't ignore any advances. Venus never made any. At least, not until that business at the Battle Arena." Louis shook his head in a sorrowful fashion. "Ah yes, Venus finally despaired of the subtle approach, and bluntly offered you her favour at the Battle Arena. You didn't gratefully worship at her feet. You publicly rejected her. Now you're worshipping another woman instead. Think about it, Hawk." He faced me, and gave another elaborate bow. "Enchanting Jex, please be careful. You've chosen an exclusive relationship with Hawk. His allies are now your allies, but his enemies are your enemies too, and the female Founder Players are far more deadly than the male." He turned and walked away, and the other men followed him. Hawk stared after them. "Louis can't possibly be right about Venus." Romulus must have heard that, because he turned his head for a moment, and called back to us over his shoulder. "When it comes to family politics, Louis is always right." I waited until the group of men vanished round the corner before speaking. "I'm beginning to think I'd be safer with the Reaper than your family." "Don't be silly. I realize that the ..." Hawk broke off and groaned. "Oh wonderful, Hercules has tracked us down." The familiar leather-clad figure walked up to us. Hercules bowed and smiled. "Hawk." "Hercules." Hawk gave him a polite bow in reply, but their eyes met like duellists in the Battle Arena. Hercules turned to me. "I can't understand why you're settling for Michael, when there are hundreds of single men on Celestius. You could do so much better than someone who makes a habit of cutting your throat." "I don't make a habit of cutting Jex's throat!" Hawk snapped at him. "You killed Fleur, but I ..." "Let me deal with this," I interrupted, and gave Hercules my frostiest glare. "Why are you approaching me about this? I thought the rules on Celestius were that you accept a woman's relationship decisions without an argument." Hercules gave me a wary look. "I have accepted your decision, Jex. I only came to speak to you because of the message Michael sent to me this morning. He claimed the situation with Susanna doesn't worry you, but if you knew the real facts then ..." "That's enough!" I shouted. "Leave right now or I'll make a formal complaint to the Sisterhood about you." "As you wish." Hercules turned and ambled away, with the smug air of someone who'd already said everything he wanted to say. "I'll kill him," muttered Hawk. "I'll tear his head off and shove it where ..." "Hawk!" He turned guiltily towards me. "I told Cassandra that I was in an exclusive relationship with you. She told all the Founder Players about it. That was supposed to put a stop to the problems with Hercules. Why did you send him a message about me?" Hawk looked at me with a nervous expression that definitely belonged to Michael. "I wanted to make sure that Hercules understood the situation, so I sent him the news myself." "You mean that you couldn't resist sending Hercules a gloating message?" "Well, yes," said Hawk. "So why were you mentioning Susanna in that message? She's the ex-girlfriend you keep running away from, isn't she? The one Game Techs warn you about?" "I didn't mention her at all in the first message." I groaned. "The first message? How many messages have you been exchanging with Hercules?" "I'm not sure," said Hawk evasively. "A few." I groaned again. "I thought that Hercules was the one keeping this childish feud going by sniping at you, but you're just as bad as he is." Hawk cringed. "I only intended to send Hercules the one message, but he threatened to tell you the details of what happened with Susanna." "How does Hercules know about Susanna?" "I was on Starlight watching a concert years ago. Hercules turned up to annoy me, and then a Game Tech appeared and warned me Susanna was coming, so I left at once. Hercules promptly tracked Susanna down, started dating her, and talked her into telling him every awful detail about the past. He's been holding the secret over my head ever since, waiting for the moment when he could use it to do the most damage, which is obviously now." He paused. "I suppose I'd better tell you the whole humiliating disaster before Hercules does. It was ..." I held up a hand to stop him. "No! You don't have to tell me anything about it. I know Hercules is just trying to cause trouble between us." "I want to tell you anyway," said Hawk. "You've threatened to report Hercules to the Sisterhood, so he won't dare to cause more trouble himself, but I can guess his next move. Everyone's going round discussing how angry Venus is, so Hercules will tell her everything about Susanna. Venus is bound to find a way to tell you about it, so it's better if I tell you the story myself." "If you must." I looked down into the water and saw the pool was full of tiny, multicoloured fish. A berry had fallen into the water from a nearby bush, and a shoal of fish chased it in circles, eagerly nibbling at it. "I should have known right at the start that Susanna wasn't really interested in a mess like Michael. In fact, I did know it. When she started talking to me, I thought it was too good to be true, but after three weeks I was fool enough to believe she ..." He broke off and took a deep breath. "I'm making a mess of this. I should have started by explaining that my father was a teacher. You know how some teenagers get a crush on a teacher. My father was a handsome man and ..." Hawk's words trailed off, and he frowned. "Your face, Jex. You aren't understanding a word of this, are you?" "No," I admitted. I'd assumed that the split with Susanna had been something to do with sex. Michael had said he'd never had sex in real life, so I'd added two and two together and been braced to hear the details of a disastrous attempt at seduction, but I was just hopelessly confused now. Hawk hit the palm of his right hand against his forehead. "Of course you don't understand. I'm four hundred bleeping years out of date. So is Hercules. So is Susanna. So is this whole stupid story." He let his hand drop and laughed. "These days, kids never physically meet their parents; they just get an occasional call from a shadowy figure in Game. They don't get crushes on their teachers, because their teachers work from within Game using a controlled droid, and anyway kids leave school at ten years old." I still had absolutely no clue what he was talking about. The fish in the pool had eaten their berry but were still hopefully swimming in circles. I reached up to pick another, tossed it into the water, and they instantly gathered round it. Hawk shook his head. "I've been worrying about Hercules telling you, terrified what you'd think about Susanna using me as a way to get to my father, but it has no meaning to you at all. Even if I explained the way society worked back then, explained all about families and schools, you still wouldn't understand the humiliation." "Probably not," I said. "Can we forget about Susanna now?" He grinned. "Yes, though maybe I should send a message to Hercules to tell him that ..." "No!" I said. "The childish messages have to stop right now. I can't complain to the Sisterhood about Hercules bothering us if you keep sending him messages." "Point," said Hawk reluctantly. "I just hate letting him have the last word. He knows exactly how to annoy me. The way he twists things round, like saying that I make a habit of cutting your throat." "Yes, Hercules knows exactly how to annoy you," I said. "That's precisely why you have to stop responding to him, turn your back, and walk away. If you don't, this feud will go on forever, and eventually Hercules will find a way to spoil things between us, make you lose control and do something that I can never forgive." I took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. "Hawk, you need to think about whether you want a childish feud with Hercules or an adult relationship with me, because I'm not sure you can have both." Hawk looked terrified at my ultimatum. He hastily nodded. "You're right. The feud stops right away. I'll let Hercules have the last word." If the Michael I'd met in the real world had said those words, I'd have believed him. Michael was insecure and vulnerable and very human. He got scared, but did brave things anyway. He'd run from bullies as a child, but he fought for justice now. He had his immature moments, but he wanted to grow up. I loved him for all those things. Hawk had a lot of the same qualities as Michael, but with the one key difference that the glittering legend of Game was frozen in time. However much Hawk wanted to stop his feud with Hercules, however many times he promised me it was over, the feud would go on. The only way for it to end was for Hawk to change, and Game wouldn't let him do that. I'd been worried about the age gap between me and Hawk, and thought that he was too old for me, but the problem was the other way round. Hawk needed to grow up, but he couldn't. I either had to accept him as he was, or walk away, and walking away would be impossibly hard after the things we'd been through together. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of bells ringing. I looked round. "What's that?" "The bells are calling people to gather at the dancing lawn. We'll watch the fireworks together, and then Cassandra will formally introduce you to the family. A whole queue of men will want to dance with you after that, but I hope you'll save several dances for me." "You can dance? Don't tell me that Michael was a dancer." "Of course he wasn't. Cassandra forced me to learn to dance centuries ago, so I wouldn't be such a disaster at parties like this one. We'd better go to the dancing lawn now. I'll introduce you to Marcus as soon as we get there. Best to get the worst bit over with right away." I sighed, and took his arm. "How bad is Marcus?" "He can often be extremely charming, but his mood changes rapidly. Don't worry though. I'll be standing guard over you to make sure there isn't an unfortunate event." I didn't want to ask what Hawk meant by an unfortunate event. We walked back towards the dancing lawn, and found a crowd was gathering. Some were standing in groups and talking, while others sat at the tables. The lone man at the table nearest us looked up. He studied me for a moment, and then went back to shuffling pine cones on the table in front of him. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as Hawk led me past. "Who is that?" I asked. "I don't recognize him." "That's Thought." Hawk smiled. "You wouldn't recognize him because I don't think he's ever left Celestius. Thought likes order and patterns. He acts as both judge and jury in all the trials on Celestius, because everyone knows that he won't be swayed by personal likes or dislikes when deciding on guilt or punishments. Now brace yourself for the introduction to Marcus." We walked towards a man with short dark hair, and clothes that were vaguely Roman in style. He was sitting at a seat by himself, and people seemed to be giving him a wide berth. Thor and Cassandra were standing nearby, chatting to a couple of men. The group all had their eyes fixed on Marcus. When Thor saw us coming, he raised one finger. Hawk nodded in response to the signal, and leant to whisper a few words in my ear. "We should keep this very short." His left hand tightened on my arm, he led me up to Marcus, and spoke in more normal tones. "Marcus, this is Jex. You must have heard about her coming to Celestius." Marcus looked at me first, then his eyes drifted to Hawk standing on one side of me, and to Thor standing barely two paces away. Finally, he looked straight at me again. "Cassandra told me all about you, Jex. I'm very pleased to meet you." He seemed perfectly normal, even pleasant. "I'm pleased to meet you too, Marcus," I said. "It's nice to see a new face for a change. A very lovely one too." "Thank you." "Perhaps you could tell me something about yourself," said Marcus. "I lead a very boring life, and I've heard everyone else's stories too many times already." Hawk stirred restively at my side. "Another time perhaps. I'm afraid we have to move on now. Poor Jex has to be introduced to the whole family this evening." "That's a shame," said Marcus. I smiled. "Well, I'm sure we'll get to chat for longer another time." "I look forward to drinking your blood, Jex." Marcus smiled back at me. His tone of voice was so calm and agreeable that my mind had to replay the words before I could take them in. "I'm planning to keep my blood," I said. "Time to go." Hawk took my arm and towed me firmly away, while giving Thor a meaningful look. "Marcus enjoys saying that sort of thing and watching how people react. I think he's testing whether they'd make a good victim or not. It's definitely time to move on, but at least we managed the introduction." As we walked across the empty centre of the dancing lawn, Hawk was looking thoughtfully around at the people. "We've dealt with Hercules and Marcus, but there are a few more awkward introductions to come. The biggest problem is going to be Venus. She's busily watching us right now." Hawk pointed across at where a woman with long blonde hair was sitting at a table. He was right. Venus was surrounded by several laughing men, but she was staring at us. "Over at the far end of the lawn," Hawk continued, "you can see a group of a dozen men. They don't have any especial reason to target either you or me, but I'd still suggest avoiding them as much as possible. That's the group who had the big clash with the Sisterhood in the early days. If they weren't Founder Players, they'd either be on Havoc along with the other trolls, or in Game prison." I wrinkled my nose. "Everyone here sounds so attractive." Hawk laughed. "It's really not that bad. I've pointed out all the dangerous ones now except for Chiron. He's permanently confined to his castle, but at some point we'll need to take our turn to go and see him." "Take our turn?" "Chiron likes having visitors, so the family try to make sure someone goes to see him every day. We do the same for Marcus when he lets us. As Cassandra told you, Marcus often locks himself away for long periods, not answering calls or accepting any visitors." I had an odd dizzy moment. I'd scared myself to death thinking that the Reaper might have reached Celestius by taking Hawk's place in the Game. I'd been deeply thankful to be proved wrong. Now I realized my idea could have been half right after all. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Thirty-five –––––––– Hawk's arm was round me, steadying me. He gave me a worried look. "Is something wrong?" "I just realized the Reaper might be a Founder Player after all." "I hope you haven't gone back to thinking the Reaper replaced me." "No, but start from the same logic," I said. "The Reaper could replace a Founder Player who wasn't in Game." "I don't see where you're going with this. I'm the only Founder Player that's left Game in the last three centuries." I ignored that. "When the Reaper heard you'd worked out the bomber was a Game Tech, he got worried. He prepared an escape route so if things went badly wrong he could give himself a new identity as a player. He also made himself a deletion weapon. We thought he'd made that to use later on, but what if we were wrong? What if the Reaper made that weapon because he needed it to prepare his escape route?" Hawk frowned but didn't say anything. "The Reaper was a Game Tech, so he could enter a castle on Celestius and use his deletion weapon on a Founder Player. He'd choose a victim who regularly locked himself in his castle and didn't respond to calls or visitors, so no one would notice he was missing for weeks or even months." "You mean Marcus," said Hawk. "The Reaper could have used his deletion weapon to eliminate Marcus from Game, and then hidden the weapon somewhere in the castle before leaving." "Poor Marcus," I said. Hawk nodded. "Yes. He wouldn't have stood a chance. Once the real Marcus was gone, the Reaper could set up his escape route to recreate himself in Marcus's place. It would be easy to act the part of someone that unpredictable. The Reaper could make any number of mistakes, and the family would just dismiss it as another of Marcus's odd moments." He paused. "The question is whether that actually happened. Is that Marcus back there or the Reaper?" "And if it is the Reaper, then what is he planning for the future? To act the part of Marcus, make a gradual recovery, and be let out of his castle to roam the worlds of Game?" "The Game Techs would never believe Marcus was sufficiently recovered to be set free," said Hawk. "They understand only too well that people can't change their basic natures within Game." "And the Reaper would know that." I relaxed. "Marcus is just himself then. The Reaper's escape route was aimed at giving himself a new life as a player. He wouldn't sentence himself to spending eternity locked in Marcus's castle." "But the Reaper's goal was power," said Hawk. "If his bid to rule Game failed, would he really want a new life as a mere player? Perhaps he'd choose to replace Marcus to give himself the best chance of taking revenge on the Founder Players." I fought the urge to turn round and look at Marcus. "But if that's what happened, and the Reaper's goal is revenge, then he's got the perfect chance here and now." "Oh yes," said Hawk, in a grim voice. "You're here. I'm here. The whole family is here. I've got my armour and weapons with me because I don't trust Hercules, but most of us are defenceless. The Reaper's best move will be to wait until it's fully dark and the fireworks start. The noise will cover up any warning screams, so he'll be able to kill a lot of us in the darkness." I instinctively glanced across to where the sky was blazing red with the setting sun. "We've got that same problem again," I said. "How can we be sure if it's Marcus or not?" "That's simple," said Hawk. "I'll threaten to kill him. If this is the real Marcus, he'll be unarmed, because he isn't allowed weapons. If this is the Reaper, he'll have the deletion weapon hidden on him. He'll try to use it to kill me permanently. I'll Game kill him instead." "There has to be a safer way to handle this. We should call Kwame." Hawk shook his head. "Cassandra, Thor, Pendragon, and Ulysses are with Marcus right now, keeping watch on him. If the Reaper sees a Game Tech appear, he won't wait to ask why. He'll start by killing Cassandra, and then take down as many of the rest of the family as he can." "Then we should go somewhere out of sight and call Kwame." "There isn't time for that," said Hawk. "It's already nearly dark." I glanced at the sky again, and bit my lip. Hawk was right. "We have to keep everything looking normal until Marcus is alone with me," said Hawk. "You'll start walking back with me, but then stop, pretend you need to adjust your hair or something. I'll carry on to reach Marcus, get rid of the others, and then challenge him. If he reaches for a weapon, I'll be ready. Whatever happens, promise you'll keep safely away from us." I nodded. "Hawk." "Yes?" I couldn't stop him doing this. Cassandra would be the Reaper's first target, and Hawk had loved her as his sister for four hundred years. "Be very careful." Hawk smiled at me, and I took his arm. We walked at a carefully casual speed across the empty circle of grass, heading back towards Marcus. Cassandra was standing only two paces away from him. Thor was at her side, with his arm round her. Pendragon and Ulysses were a little further away. Many more of the family, far too many more of the family, were standing in scattered groups, or sitting at tables nearby. Marcus turned to look in our direction. He'd seen us coming towards him. If he was the Reaper, he'd wait to let us get closer before he started his massacre. Of all the Founder Players, we were the two he'd most want to kill. We were halfway there now. I felt Hawk give a meaningful tug at my arm. It was time for me to do my act. I faked a stumble, and took my hand from Hawk's arm. "I knew these heels were too high. I'll catch you up in a minute." I stooped to check my sandals, while Hawk walked on. Thor and Cassandra turned to look at him coming, and he waved his right hand in a casual signal that they should let him talk to Marcus alone. The situation looked under control. Pendragon and Ulysses were already several paces clear of Marcus. Thor and Cassandra were moving away too. Then Venus wrecked everything. She must have seen me standing there alone on the dancing lawn, and decided this was a golden opportunity to spill poison into my ear, because she started running towards me. Her route took her straight past Marcus, and he whirled round and grabbed her out-flung arm, yanking her towards him. Hawk stopped and stood there hesitating, his eyes on them both. "What are you doing, Marcus?" asked Cassandra. "Please let Venus go." "But I don't want to let her go," said Marcus. "Cassandra, stay back!" said Hawk. Other people were coming to see what was happening, and Hawk waved frantically at them. "Everyone, stay back!" "Let me go, Marcus!" demanded Venus. "Someone make him let me go!" Thor moved forward, but Hawk shook his head. "Let me deal with Marcus. You get Cassandra out of here." Thor frowned, but turned to his wife, and tugged her firmly back to join the rest of the watching crowd. I was still standing alone in the centre of the dancing lawn. I'd promised to stay here, and I could do nothing to help Hawk. I'd change that in future, I'd train for hours every day until I became a legendary fighter myself, better than Artemis or any other female player in Game, but right now I was nothing but a liability. "Why aren't you helping me?" Venus looked at Hawk accusingly. "Why are you letting Marcus maul me like this? You're doing this out of revenge, aren't you? You brought that dreadful, clueless girl to Celestius out of revenge too. All because I wasn't interested in awful, tongue tied, Michael." "We can trade insults later if you like," said Hawk. "You can remind everyone about the ghastliness of Michael, and I can talk about Eliza's whining voice and ferret teeth, but right now you'd better shut your mouth." Venus gasped. Hawk ignored her outraged face and looked at Marcus. "Let her go, Marcus. It's time you went home now." "Game command!" shouted Venus. "Request Game Tech assistance." A female Game Tech appeared, and looked at the scene with startled eyes. A second later, Kwame appeared next to her. "Make Marcus let me go!" demanded Venus. "Let me deal with this, Kwame," said Hawk. At the mention of his name, Kwame gave Hawk a look of surprise that changed into comprehension. "Player Marcus," he said, "please release player Venus." Marcus didn't respond to him. His eyes were fixed on Hawk. "You know what I am," he said. "You know who I am. You know what I have." "Yes, I do," said Hawk, "and we both know that Venus is irrelevant to this." "Yes, she is," said Marcus. "You've no reason to care whether Venus lives or dies." Venus tried changing her tactics. "Marcus," she cooed. "Why are you holding me so tightly? You don't want to hurt me. We could be friends and ..." She broke off as Marcus twisted her arm, and there was a sickening cracking sound, like a stick breaking. Venus screamed. One loud desperate yell of pain, then Marcus literally threw her at Hawk, and jumped towards me. I was far away in the centre of the dancing lawn. It was utterly impossible for Marcus to cover that distance in a single jump, but he did it, flying high through the air and landing right next to me. Before I had time to react, he had his left arm round me, and his right hand pressing something into my side. "I have the right hostage now, Hawk," he said. "I can use my deletion knife to kill your lady love very permanently. Now, let's negotiate." Venus was lying on the ground now, whimpering and clutching her right arm. Hawk was ignoring her, his eyes fixed on me and Marcus. "What do you want?" he asked. "I want Hawk the Unvanquished," said the Reaper. "You walk over here, put your sword on the ground, and surrender to me. I'll kill you, and then let Jex go." "It seems unlikely you'll actually let her go," said Hawk. "Of course it's unlikely," said the Reaper, "but it's possible, isn't it? You might manage to buy her life with yours. If you don't try, then you know I'll kill her very permanently." He laughed in my ear and pulled me closer to him. "You love her, don't you? Always. You're such a romantic, Hawk. Think about what will happen if you don't do what I say. You'd have to live forever with the knowledge that you stood by and watched me murder the woman you loved. You won't do that, will you, Hawk?" Hawk raised his right hand in the air. "Durendal!" The sword flew out of its sheath and hovered above him. Hawk hesitated for a moment before taking hold of the hilt. "That's how you managed that jump." "Very bright," said the Reaper. "Yes, I couldn't give myself superhuman speed or strength, but this is a standard feature on a two-handed weapon, projecting the item a given distance in a given direction. It was easy for me to add the same feature to a ring so I could use it on myself." Hawk lowered his sword and frowned down at it. I kept perfectly still and silent, but I was thinking desperately hard. The Reaper was holding his death knife to my side. If Hawk surrendered to him, then he'd kill us both. The only possible way out of this was for me to die. I had to make the Reaper kill me, so Hawk would be free to fight for his life and the lives of the other Founder Players. Then I remembered when I'd played the sacrifice victim. There'd been a better answer than the obvious one then, and the same was true now. The only possible way out of this was for me to die, but ... I watched Hawk walk towards us, saw his head bow as he prepared to lay down his weapon, and screamed the words that he would understand but the Reaper wouldn't. "Hawk. What Hercules said. Make it a habit!" Hawk lifted his head, hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then swung Durendal's blade through the air. The Reaper instinctively dodged, but I held still for the razor sharp edge. There was a flash of pure agony as Hawk cut off my head and I died. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Thirty-six –––––––– I seemed to be hanging in midair in total darkness. I could see nothing. I could hear nothing. My neck burned as if it was on fire, the pain spreading through my whole body and reaching an agonizing crescendo before gradually fading away. I still couldn't see or hear anything, and now I couldn't feel anything either. I was dead. That much was certain, but I didn't know if Hawk had managed to kill me before the Reaper did. If I'd been slain by the great sword, Durendal, then I had died a Game death, and I would resurrect in my castle on Celestius. If the Reaper had killed me with his knife, then this was a final death, and I would never return either to real life or to the Game. My body would sleep forever in a frozen coffin, with no mind to return to it. I would never ride on a winged horse again, or walk under Ganymede's sky. I'd never see the shining wonders of Starlight, or experience life as one of the merfolk of Coral. I'd never make love to a glittering legend of the Game, or to an insecure kid called Michael. Even if I survived this, Hawk might not. I'd left the legendary hero to fight a fallen god of Game, left him to use Durendal against a weapon that could delete players from existence. At least Hawk could fight now, instead of surrendering his life in a vain attempt to save mine. Despite his words and his actions, part of me had never really believed Hawk loved me until now. I knew that Nathan believed it, Hercules believed it, Kwame believed it, but how could I think that Hawk the Unvanquished could truly love a girl from the body stacks? Michael could, yes, but not Hawk. I didn't doubt it any longer though. He'd proved it when he prepared to lay down Durendal, because he'd been Hawk then, and I knew exactly how Hawk would describe surrendering like that. He'd say it was a bleeping stupid thing to do. Hawk would have made that utterly pointless sacrifice for me, knowing that it only meant two deaths instead of one. The Reaper would never have let me live. He'd lost any chance of power, and had no way to escape justice, so he'd take as much revenge as he could on his enemies before he was captured. The blackness slowly brightened, and I saw the grey plain that I'd seen when I entered Game. It could be a good sign, or perhaps it just meant that as my body froze, and my mind left it to enter the Game, I had in some way been close to death. The plain had been featureless before, and there had been the sound of people whispering. There were whispers now too, but this time I could see things as well. The Kraken's saucer-like eyes watched me from a pool of water, and its beak of a mouth seemed to be trying to say something to me. Nathan walked by, holding a tiny world in his hands, frowning with concentration as he carved continents and oceans into its surface. Hawk stood ahead of me, a giant figure, ten times my size or more. A figure in Game Tech uniform appeared by my right side. I turned and saw it was Kwame. "Am I alive?" I asked Kwame. "That is correct." Another figure appeared on my left. Another Game Tech, a stranger this time, with diamond insignia on his cheeks. "Am I dead?" I asked the Reaper. "That is correct." Then the plain suddenly vanished, and I was in the great hall of my castle. The real Kwame was standing in front of me, while Hawk sat next to him, slumped on the marble floor, with his head in his hands. Nathan's face watched anxiously from a mirror on the wall. I stared at them for a second before speaking, unsure if this was another vision or real. This was my big chance to say a heroic and memorable sentence, but being me I came out with something ridiculous. "What happened to the regulations about a player's home being private?" "Game Techs are allowed to enter a house without permission when a player's safety is known to be at risk," said Kwame. "I admit that bringing player Hawk with me was unprecedented, but so was the situation." I laughed. Hawk slowly lifted his head and looked at me. He took a deep breath, but he didn't move or say anything. I was feeling terribly shaky, so I decided to join him in sitting on the floor. Nathan was grinning widely now. "We've been pretty worried about you, Jex. It wasn't clear whether the Reaper or Hawk killed you. A Game death automatically sends you into the resurrection process. That's carried out by the Game world transfer system, and at any time that holds millions of people who are moving between Game worlds." He paused. "We'd no way of knowing which of those millions of constreams was yours, or whether you were in there at all. We just had to wait to see if you reappeared in your castle, and the resurrection process takes far longer than just moving between worlds." I looked at Hawk. He hadn't said a word yet, and was still white and shocked. "The Reaper?" I asked. "The Reaper is dead. I took his own weapon and used it on him." "I was expecting to see passionate hugs at this point," said Nathan pointedly. Hawk shook his head and spoke in defeated tones. "There's always a price." I stared at him in bewilderment. "What?" "When I realized what you were suggesting, Jex, I knew you were right. The only way to save your life and defeat the Reaper was to kill you, but I knew the price. I'd seen this happen with Fleur and Hercules. A player's first Game death is a traumatic experience. Fleur never forgave him." Now I'd caught up with Hawk's thinking. "Hercules killed Fleur with a stupid practical joke. This was very different. The Reaper was expecting you to attack him. If you'd tried it, he was ready to kill me permanently, but he wasn't expecting you to attack me instead. I'm just glad that Hawk the Unvanquished could move fast enough to kill me before the Reaper got over his surprise." Hawk didn't say anything. I could tell from the lifeless look in his eyes that I wasn't getting through to him. "This is like that idea you had before, isn't it?" I asked. "The hero against the gods one, where it always ends badly for the hero. You thought that it would end up with you defeating the Reaper, but dying in real life." "There's always a price," he repeated. "No, there isn't. You defeated the Reaper, you didn't die, and I didn't die either." "You didn't die because I had to give you up instead." I groaned. "You're not Hercules, I'm not Fleur, and this isn't some ... some bleeping Greek tragedy. The Reaper is dead, I'm alive, and I have a lot of plans for things I want to do in Game." I stretched out a hand towards Hawk, and he touched my fingertips cautiously with his own. "You two really need to work on those passionate hugs," said Nathan. I ignored him, keeping my eyes fixed on Hawk. "You've got a part to play in those plans. Don't you want us to walk the beaches of Ganymede, visit Starlight, and go riding together on a winged horse?" And suddenly Hawk's face was alive again, his expression a mixture of laughter and embarrassment. "Of course I ..." He broke off and turned to Kwame. "Thank you for your help. I'm sure you have a lot of other things to do now." "That is correct." Kwame took the hint and vanished. I glanced at the mirror, saw Nathan was still watching us, and coughed pointedly. "We'd like privacy now, Nathan." "Oh. Right. I'll end the call then." The mirror went black for a second, before changing back to showing a reflection of the room. Hawk's hand took mine. "What now, Jex?" "If the Reaper is dead, then there's no need for me to hide away on Celestius any longer. As I recall, we were having a special moment on Ganymede when Nathan interrupted us with a call." Hawk smiled. "Yes, we were. Game command. Request group Game world transfer to Jex private beach on Ganymede." There was the blurring sensation of transferring between worlds, and we were no longer sitting on a marble floor but on soft sand. There was a faint, mauve mistiness to the air, and it held the scent of flowers mixed with spices and sea salt. Hawk and I lay back on the sand, and gazed up at the fiery whirlpools of Jupiter's storms for a few minutes in silence. My father had lived here on Ganymede for over a century, walking its beaches and helping its people. The Reaper had killed him with his bombs, and Hawk and I had killed the Reaper in turn. Now my father's name would be listed on the memorial on Avalon, but I would never go there to see it. For me, my father's memorial would always be Ganymede itself. Finally, Hawk spoke. "The last time we were on this beach, I'd just kissed you when Nathan called us. Would it be rushing things if I kissed you again?" My father had told me that you should remember the past but live for the future. "I don't think another kiss would be rushing things at all." Hawk's face blocked my view of the glorious sky, and I closed my eyes to concentrate on the warmth of his lips meeting mine. Jupiter, in all its splendid majesty, waited patiently for our attention. | | ---|---|--- # Chapter Thirty-seven –––––––– Hawk and I stood looking out from the balcony of my castle. Several weeks had passed since the traumatic day when Hawk cut off my head, and the whole population of Game must have watched the replays of the final battle on Celestius a dozen times or more. Everyone believed that Marcus had truly been the Reaper, and had helped and encouraged Tomath with the bombings out of pure joy at spreading destruction and death. There were a couple of obvious weak points in that story, such as how Tomath had managed to get the deletion weapon to Marcus when he was confined to his castle on Celestius, and why Marcus would help Tomath bomb his own world. The Game Techs had covered the first point by explaining that they'd had to shut down Celestius to make changes to its server configuration. This had been done while the Founder Players were meeting in the Amphitheatre, but the Game Techs had needed to move Marcus and Chiron to another Game world for an hour or two. That much was perfectly true, but the Game Techs had added some extra details. They claimed that Marcus had asked to spend that time at his house on Camelot, where he'd lived for a couple of years before being put under house arrest on Celestius. The Game Techs said that they'd agreed to what seemed a reasonable request, not knowing that Marcus and Tomath had been friends on Camelot, and Tomath had used Marcus's old house as a safe place to store his enhanced items and deletion weapon. The other Founder Players explained the second point themselves. They all found it perfectly believable that Marcus would be attracted by the idea of crashing Celestius and killing a lot of the family, and that he'd find it even more amusing if there was a risk of him dying himself. It seemed unfair to me that Marcus was made doubly the Reaper's victim, first being killed by him and then being blamed for his actions, but the truth was impossible to explain without admitting the Reaper had been a Game Tech. Hawk said that it wasn't as if Marcus had any friends who'd be hurt by the deception, but that made it seem even sadder to me. My status on Celestius had changed now. Most of the Founder Players had seen what happened at the party, and they'd all watched the replays countless times. They'd seen the look on my face as I saw death coming and wondered which death it would be. They'd seen Hawk's expression of despair when he cut off my head. They didn't think of me as an unprecedented newcomer any longer. I'd been a key part of the most dramatic event that had ever happened on Celestius, and that made me part of the family too. I even had my very own family feud with Venus. Hawk and I still had one thing to sort out though. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. "I'm not forcing you into it. There are times when you're maddeningly childish, but there are times when you're unbelievably heroic. I've decided I can put up with one for the sake of the other." "I'm not doing this for you," said Hawk. "I'm doing this for myself. I've spent four centuries acting the part of Hawk. Four centuries trying to deal with the issues of Michael. Four centuries locked in a destructive cycle of childish feuds with Hercules." He shook his head. "For all that time, I knew the only way for me to solve my problems was to go back to the real world and do some growing up, but I couldn't face doing that. Now I've been back to the real world once to meet you and chase the Reaper, the idea of going back again doesn't seem so daunting." He paused. "I have to go back to the real world, Jex, but you don't have to come with me. I'll only be gone for a year. You could wait here in Game for me to return." "I'm coming with you. The best way for us to build the equal partnership I want is to spend a year together as two ordinary eighteen-year-olds in the real world." I gave Hawk a mischievous look. "I can introduce you to all my old friends. If you're lucky, then Falcon may let you act a part in his next re-enactment." Hawk groaned. "By the time we're back in Game," I added, "people should have forgotten that stupid name they've given me." "I'm afraid that's unlikely, Jex the Deathless." I winced. "I feel that being called Jex the Deathless is asking for trouble." "I've always felt that being called Hawk the Unvanquished was asking for trouble. I spent several decades objecting to it, but it didn't do any good. I was stuck with it, and I'm afraid you're stuck with your name too. The whole of Game has seen the replays of you surviving what could easily have been two real life deaths." I gazed up at two winged horses that were circling overhead, sighed, and made myself say the words. "Game command. Request Game Tech assistance." After a few seconds, a figure in Game Tech uniform appeared. "Yesterday, Hawk and I requested that our bodies should be defrosted," I said. "Is everything ready for us to ..." I broke off in shock. The face of the man wearing the anonymous uniform was a little older and more handsome than in real life, and he had blue Game Tech insignia on his cheeks, but he was still easy to recognize. "Nath ..." I broke off the greeting as I remembered the Game Tech regulations. "I've never seen blue insignia before. Trainee status?" "That is correct," said Nathan, his face impassive. "Your bodies have been defrosted as requested. Do you wish to leave Game now?" "I don't exactly wish to leave Game," said Hawk, "but yes, it's time for us to go." He paused to give that characteristic, one-shouldered shrug. "Perhaps Michael will grow up to be a bit like Hawk." "I think Michael has always been a lot closer to being Hawk than you realized," I said. "Should it be of use to you," said Nathan, "there is a room with the rent paid until the end of this month, and a job vacancy in the body stacks." Hawk nodded. "That will be a good starting point." "Nathan, is there any chance we'll see you when we re-enter Game again?" I asked. "Whenever you wish assistance in future," he said, "please request a Game Tech, and one of suitable rank will respond." I understood the message. The Game Techs had bent the rules, let Nathan come this once as a special gesture, but it wouldn't happen again. He was a Game Tech now, and this was goodbye forever. "I'd give you a hug," I said, "but I understand the reasons for the barrier between the Game Techs and the players. You deserved Celestius too. I hope you're happy with your choice." For one brief second, Nathan allowed his face to change from the mask-like expression of a Game Tech, to one of pure pride and delight. "That is correct." There was moisture in my eyes, but I blinked away the tears. It would be entirely wrong to cry when Nathan had achieved his dream. Hawk and I were among the legendary ones, the Founder Players, but Nathan was a Game Tech. He would be a god of the Game, and a far better one than the Reaper. Nathan would create not destroy. "The mental transition of leaving Game will be easier lying down," said Nathan. Two flower-strewn couches appeared on the balcony next to us. I lay down on one, and Hawk the Unvanquished lay on the other. I took one last look up at the circling winged horses and closed my eyes. "I'm ready," I said. "I'm ready too," said Hawk. I saw the grey plain again. There was one person standing in the centre of it, a blond-haired man dressed in leather armour. He pointed his finger at me. "Michael belongs to me not you." "Michael belongs to himself," I said. The blond-haired man grew transparent before vanishing completely. Where he'd been standing, the grey dust of the plain was covered with flowers. Everything went black for a moment after that, and then I heard a familiar voice speaking. "Are you awake yet?" I opened my eyes to find I was lying on a medical table with two controlled medical droids looking down at me. I turned my head sideways, and saw the black-haired boy lying on the next table. He rolled on his side to face me and smiled. I smiled back at him. Nathan was a Game Tech. Jex the Deathless was sleeping in her castle on Celestius with Hawk the Unvanquished at her side. I was back in the real world with Michael. | | ---|---|--- # Message from Janet Edwards –––––––– Thank you for reading Reaper. This book is set in the Game Future, but I also have book series set in two very different future universes. The Portal Future where the invention of interstellar portals has allowed humanity to colonize hundreds of worlds scattered across distant star systems. The Hive Future where humanity lives in vast hive cities. –––––––– Please visit me online at my website to see the current full list of my books, including suggestions on the reading order. You can also make sure you don't miss future books by signing up to get new release updates. –––––––– Best wishes from Janet Edwards | | ---|---|--- # Books by Janet Edwards Set in the Game Future REAPER –––––––– Set in the Hive Future TELEPATH –––––––– Set in the Portal Future The prequel novellas:- EARTH AND FIRE: An Earth Girl Novella FRONTIER: An Epsilon Sector Novella The Earth Girl trilogy:- EARTH GIRL EARTH STAR EARTH FLIGHT The Earth Girl prequel short story collection:- EARTH 2788: The Earth Girl Short Stories Other short stories:- HERA 2781: A Military Short Story –––––––– Please visit https://janetedwards.com/books to see the current full list of books You can also make sure you don't miss the next book by signing up to get new release updates | | ---|---|--- # About the Author –––––––– Janet Edwards lives in England. As a child, she read everything she could get her hands on, including a huge amount of science fiction and fantasy. She studied Maths at Oxford, and went on to suffer years of writing unbearably complicated technical documents before deciding to write something that was fun for a change. She has a husband, a son, a lot of books, and an aversion to housework. –––––––– Visit Janet at her website: www.janetedwards.com Follow Janet on Facebook: www.facebook.com/JanetEdwardsAuthor Follow Janet on Twitter: <https://twitter.com/JanetEdwardsSF> –––––––– Sign up for new release updates: www.janetedwards.com/newsletter

Adapted-operator representations: Selective versus collective properties of quantum networks Based on local unitary operators acting on a n-dimensional Hilbert-space, we investigate selective and collective operator basis sets for N-particle quantum networks. Selective cluster operators are used to derive the properties of general cat-states for any n and N. Collective operators are conveniently used to account for permutation symmetry: The respective Hilbert-space dimension is then only polynomial in N and governed by strong selection rules. These selection rules can be exploited for the design of decoherence-free subspaces as well as for the implementation of efficient routes to entanglement if suspended switching between states of different symmetry classes could be realized. I. INTRODUCTION Problem-adapted representations are convenient tools for dealing with concrete physical models in virtually any branch of physics: Examples are the choice of coordinates in classical mechanics, of mode representations in linear wave theory, of state vector-or matrix-representations and of complete operator basis sets in quantum mechanics. The mode of adaption may refer to the internal symmetry of the system under consideration and/or its coupling to the outside world (means of measurement and control). Adapted representations -though in principle equivalent to any other -are expected to simplify numerical calculations and to enhance insight. (cf. ) Operators in quantum mechanics may represent observables, states or transformations. In any case it is convenient to think in terms of "elements", i.e. basic operator sets, out of which any other operator could be constructed : For a n-dimensional Hilbert-space there are n 2 such (orthogonal) basis operators (defining Liouvillespace). If we prefer to think in terms of basic observables or states, these basis operators should be chosen hermitian; a pertinent example are the SU (n)-generators. If we rather think in terms of basic "actions", the basisoperators should be unitary (thus defining basic unitary transformation). The latter approach has become the method of choice for investigations relating to quantum computation and quantum information processing : there we are typically concerned with sequences of unitary transformations. (Only for n = 2 are unitarity and hermiticity compatible requirements for a complete basis set.) Quantum networks (composite systems) may be described in terms of product-operators,Q; if each local operator is taken from the respective unitary basis set, also the product-operators are unitary. Furthermore, they are completely specified by the type of "action" to be applied on each subsystem, = 1, 2,..., N ; theseQ-operators will be termed "selective". Alternatively, we may introduce operators which specify the action but not the "address". In this case we are naturally led to "collective operators", defining a specific action on a given number of subsystems. Complete sets require the inclusion of phases. Collective as well as selective operator sets are equivalent: in particular, we can express one type by the other. A subset of collective operators has permutation symmetry: These are the only allowed operators for fundamentally indistinguishable subystems (fermions or bosons). Typical scenarios realized, e.g. in nanostructures, will exhibit neither complete selectivity nor complete non-selectivity (permutation symmetry). However, systems with weakly restricted selectivity should still more efficiently be described byQ-Operators, systems with weakly broken permutation symmetry by collective operators. It is this latter theme of operational (partial) indistinguishability which will be of central interest in our present investigation. Our paper is organized as follows: In section II we discuss local basis operators with special emphasis on unitary operators and introduce the complex coherence vector as a generalization to the Bloch vector. Section III extends this concept to quantum networks by the use of index-selective cluster operators. Alternatively, section IV proposes the use of collective operators for which all subsystems are treated on equal footing. Applications of these concepts are worked out in section V, starting with highly entangled states and generalized cat states. Permutation symmetry plays the key role in the remaining applications showing the fundamental difference between selective and collective treatment of quantum networks. With the unitary operators to be discussed next, the SU(n)-operators share two properties: i. The set consists of n 2 − 1 traceless operatorsB s, s = 0 and the unit-operatorB 0 =1. ii. The operators based on projection operatorsP jj are kept separated from the others. As a result of i., the product-operators of a composite system (cf. Sect. III,IV can be decomposed into a hierachy of m-cluster-operatorsQ, where m is the number of indices s = 0. As a result of ii., and if =, the Hamiltonian of the system under consideration, the expectation values of theP jj or combinations of those are constants of motion (under the unitary evolution generated by). B. Unitary operators The operators U ab := n−1 k=0 bk n |k + a k| ; n = e 2i n (2.8) are defined in a double index notation a, b ∈ , where addition modulo n is denoted by underlining and the constant n is the n-th root of unity. We note for later reference, that where ij is the Kronecker-delta. The use of two indices leads to an easy interpretation of the action such an operator has on a state |k, Coming next we will state some of the basic properties these unitary operators obey. Because 00 =1, the orthonormality relation (2.11) implies tr ab = 0 for a, b = 0. This tracelessness will be essential for the definition of cluster-operators (c.f. Sect. III). The adjoint operators are again, barring a phase, members of the set, A very useful property of these operators is their cyclic symmetry, implying that any product reduces to just one operator of the set: U abcd = bc na+c,b+d (2.14) It is remarkable to note that the cyclic property allows to use -instead of the complete set { ab } -the two operators { 0,n−1, n−1,0 } only. All the others can then be generated as specific product forms, e.g. for n = 3: This property is reminescent of the creation-and destruction operators,,, conveniently applied to harmonic oscillator models; it introduces a kind of "non-linearity" if expectation values of products (cf. eq. (2.28)) are approximated by products of expectation values. From eq. (2.17) and eq. (2.13) we conclude that From the cyclic symmetry the commutation properties are found to be These structure constants are much simpler than those for SU(n)! Relations to other basis sets are summarized in Appendix B. C. Complex coherence vector The general state of a quantum-mechanical system is specified by its density-operator = i,j ijPij with ij = tr P ij defining the respective density matrix. In many areas of physics, especially for finite-dimensional state spaces, the description of using a coherence vector (as the set of expectation values of the underlying SU(n)-operator basis) has shown great power because of its intuitive, almost "classical" behaviour. For twolevel systems the coherence vector lives in an ordinary 3-dimensional space. In general, the SU(n) basis, which is hermitian, leads to a (n 2 − 1)-dimensional vector consisting of real values, while the unitary operators studied here give complex elements. For the operators ab we will henceforth use a single index notation i with i ∈ , interpreting ab as the n-adic number representing i. Following eq. (2.12), we can expand the density operator as and collect the coefficients to define the complex coherence vector where we deliberately excluded u 0 since it always equals 1 because of 0 =1. From the symmetry (cf. eq. (2.13)) we conclude that there are n 2 − 1 independent real parameters forming the complex coherence vector. The length of u can be related to the trace of the density operator thus giving a simple criterion to distinguish between pure (tr{ 2 } = 1) and mixed (tr{ 2 } < 1) states: The convenience of the well known Bloch vector formalism comes from the simple motion performed by the vector under unitary transformations: Since the length |u| is preserved, any unitary time evolution operator (t) just causes a rotation of the coherence vector. If the density matrix evolves like(t) = (t) (t), one can easily show that the motion of u is with rotation matrix T(t), Using the Liouville equation one can replace the time evolution operator by the Hamiltonian(t) leading to a differential equation similar to the Bloch equations, (2.35) As expected, with its properties ij = − * ji and tr{ ij } = 0 describes a rotation in complex vector-space. A. Definition and properties Up to now we have restricted ourselves to a single system, respective one node of a quantum network. To describe a network of N subsystems, N > 1, looking at each node separately is not enough since correlations between nodes emerge -so the concept of clusters has to be introduced. A cluster operator acting on m particles is build out of m one particle operators () i, i = 0, where greek indices label different nodes of the network. All cluster operator etc. are unitary and orthonormal, and together span the complete Liouville-space of the quantum network. Acting on only m nodes out of N means leaving the others unaffected by choosing 0 =1 for them (Thus m is the number of indices i, j,... unequal zero). The general decomposition of (like of any other operator) for a N particle quantum network with node being a n -level system reads The local coherence vectors discussed in Sect. II B just turn out to be the correlation tensors of first order, m = 1. If the network is in a product state, all correlation tensors of higher order factor into a product of local coherence vectors, i.e. these states are completely determined by local properties. In case of a single subsystem, the length of its coherence vector i |u i | 2 can be identified with a scalar constant of motion under unitary evaluation. For higher order correlation tensors, the concept of cluster sums leads to new invariants. For any m particle cluster, the cluster sum is defined as the weight of the tensor (cf. ) with special cases Y 0 = 1 and Y () 1 = u () 2. For a network with N nodes, these cluster sums give 2 N scalar invariants under (products of) local unitary transformations. All the cluster sums together are subject to the sum rule For a pure state, tr 2 = 1 and for n = n the left hand side is n N. According to eq. (3.5), any m-cluster sum of a product state factorizes into its 1-cluster-sum components. A given cluster of size m can then be tested as being in a non-product-state, if there is some partition into smaller clusters, the cluster-sum product of which is smaller than Y m, e.g. Y. The cluster sums can be related to the "purity" of a m particle cluster by interpreting the cluster as a n m -level system with coherence vector u m. (For simplicity we assume n = n.) A normalized "purity factor" can now be defined from the respective coherence vector length as (m ≤ N ) characterizing the purity of a m-node cluster on the scale (cf. eq. (2.32)) Alternatively, the purity could be characterized by the respective cluster-entropy ; p m has the advantage of being a simple algebraic function of the expectation values (matrix-elements of the reduced density matrix). A. Definition and properties For now we will stick to quantum networks build out of N two level systems, knowing that a generalization to n-level systems is straight forward. First one needs to specify which single particle operator basis is used, e.g. u 01 = x,v 01 = y, 0 = z (which is hermitian and unitary) or ± = x ±i y, z or any other complete basis. We then relabel the cluster operators (12...N ) ij...k as,p, meaning an operator of dimension 2 2N, where, and specify the multiplicity of x, y, and z, respectively ( + + ≤ N ). Index p specifies a permutation of these among the N subsystems. The number of such permutations and hence the index range for p ∈ is These operators,p, again, span the whole Liouville-space by defining all subsystem specific properties. We now go on to define collective operators by To ensure that all subsystems are treated on equal footing, the sum extends over all permutations p, weighted only with pure phase fators, where b ∈ labels the phase shift between "neighbouring" p. (Here the numbering of permutations is a matter of choice and the phase has no physical meaning.) The set of collective operators is orthonormal and complete, so that the density operator of the network can be decomposed a The expectation values E,b are collective in the sense that they do not refer to specific subsystem-indices (as opposed to the -operators, cf. eq. (3.1,3.2)). The inverse transformation is given by where we have made use of eq. (2.9). For example, the selective operator 100,0 ≡ B. Alternative sets The operators still distinguish between all three basic operators. Further reductions are possible: one such variant is (based on +, −, z ) which has been considered for nuclear spin-networks. In NMR theF z -terms in a Hamiltonian are said to induce a total of z quantum-"flip-flops" ; anF z -term entering the density-operator describes the respective coherence order |z|. Another possibility i where p are permutations of the m operators (of any type) on the N subsystems, m = 0, 1,..., N. Also this set is still complete. V. APPLICATIONS A. Commuting operator sets and generalized cat basis Commuting sets of cluster operators Cluster sums and purity factors can be used to classify states by their non-local properties. Highly entangled states tend to share correlations among all nodes rather than between only a few. Bell states (N = 2) are perfect in this sense, because they are in a totally mixed state (Y 1 = p 1 = 0) locally and pure otherwise (Y 2 = 3, p 2 = 1). Generalizing this point, one may define "highly entangled states" as states that have a cluster sum distribution with a strong focus on multi-particle correlations. This definition does not give us a quantitative measure for multi-particle entanglement, but it can assist us in the search for new states with correlations of high order. Using the unitary operators defined above, we can give a constructive way of finding such states. We restrict ourselves to n = n. Lemma 1 Let | be an eigenstate of n N completely commuting unitary operators out of which there are q N N -clusteropererators. Then its highest order cluster sum is given by Note that the modulus of any eigenvalue of any clusteroperator U (... ) ij... is exactly 1; the q N commuting Ncluster-operators thus imply Y N = q N provided all the non-commuting N -cluster-operators contribute zero. This must be the case, however, if there is a total of n N commuting operators exploiting the sum rule eq. (3.7). A set of completely commuting operators is a set in which each operator commutes with all others. This lemma reduces the problem of finding a state with maximum cluster sum Y N to the problem of finding a maximum set of commuting N -cluster-operators. Before we can make statements about cluster operators, the commuting relations of single particle unitary operators i need to be examined. Since ab, cd One of the n commuting operators in the completely commuting set is 0 =1, so the maximal number of commuting one particle operators is n − 1. For a network of N particles with n-levels each, the properties of unitary cluster operators lead to the commutator relation and from this we find the following statements: A There exists a set of (n − 1) N completely commuting cluster operators of size N. This set can be constructed from all combinations of n − 1 completely commuting one particle cluster operators. B There is a set of (n 2 − 1) completely commuting N particle cluster operators of the form C There can be larger sets of completely commuting operators than given by eq. (5.3). However, no general constructive method to find them is known to us so far. For n > 2 we restrict ourselves to N ≤ 3. D The maximum order of any such set is constrained by n N − 1. This maximum value is typically not reached for N > 2. The results of A, B, C and D are summarized in Table I Generalized cat states As a first example let us look at the well known case of two spin 1/2 particles. The maximum order for completely commuting sets of 2-cluster-operators is 3 and there are 6 such sets: The eigenstates to the first set form the Bell basis |00 ± |11, |01 ± |10, the second set has i |00 ± |11, i |01 ±|10 as eigenstates and the third gives |00 +|01 + |10 −|11, |00 +|01 −|10 +|11, |00 −|01 +|10 +|11, − |00 + |01 + |10 + |11. The remaining sets have eigenstates similar to the ones given by the third set, except for a phase. All these states are totally mixed (purity factor p 1 = 0) locally, and pure in total (p 2 = 1). From the table for the cluster sums, one can see that in the case of spin 1/2 particles (n = 2) there are no states with more entanglement than the generalized cat states (see next chapter). For n = 3-level systems this is also the case for up to 3 particles, but in the case of 4 particles there exists a state with a higher cluster sum Y 4 = 64. It turns out that this state is the dyadic product of two Bell states (each with Y 2 = 8). This indicates, that a cat state may not necessarily have the largest Y N -value (cf. eq. (5.10)). We generalize the Bell basis to systems with an arbitrary number of N particles where each particle is a n-level subsystem. Our starting point is the state |i which has the nice property, that any subsystem of m particles has an entanglement of S( m ) = log 2 n, when measured in terms of the local von Neumann entropy. ( m is the reduced density-operator of the respective m-cluster.) So any cluster, regardless of its size m, (m < N ) has the same entropy and furthermore this entropy is the maximum amount of entanglement a n-level system can have. In this sense this state can be considered as a maximal entangled state. Since entanglement properties are invariant under local unitary transformations, one can generate a complete basis set from |Cat 0 by applying the discrete set of unitary basis operators i. The result, is an explicit definition of the cat state basis. The index c = {c i }, c i ∈ labels the n N states and n is given by eq. (2.8). Orthonormality and completeness read In the low dimensional case of N = n = 2 the definition (5.6) reduces to the bell basis and for N = 3, n = 2 the GHZ state 1 √ 2 (|000 + |111 ) is one member of such a set. Further examples for cat-states are given in Appendix C. The characterization of these generalized cat states in terms of cluster sums shows (cf. Table I) while the purity factor distribution for any such a cat state is (cf. eq. (3.8)) The purity factor distribution for cat-states is shown in Fig. 1. For n ≫ 1 any cluster, regardless of its size m, (m < N ) approaches the same purity factor p m = 1 n. This behaviour is reminescent of that for the cluster-entropy. For N → ∞ the cluster-sum Y N almost exploits the sum rule (3.7): Cat states thus become even more "non-classical" with increasing N (and n). Contrary to example ii, the-model (5.31) is permutation-symmetric, while the invariant (5.34) contains expectation values with b = 0. The latter can be unequal zero only if at some previous stage of the preparation the permutation symmetry had been broken (cf. Sect. V E 4). C. Permutation symmetry A complete description of large quantum networks turns out to be virtually impossible, as the Hilbert space dimension grows exponentially with the number of particles used. However, symmetry can reduce the complexity of the total system by a significant amount: For a perfect permutation-symmetric system we will show that the reduction in the number of parameters needed is so enormous, that a polynomial increasing number of parameters is enough to describe networks of arbitrary size. Within such a network no subsystem can be distinguished, neither in preparation nor in detection. Two possible setups can be thought of: Fundamental indistinguishable and operational indistinguishable subsystems. A typical setup of the former type would be several electrons in a box. As the electrons are fermions and their location is not fixed, there is no way to act independently on a specific electron. All controlling and measurement procedures act on the system as a whole. Therefore no information loss can occur when reducing the systemdescription to permutation-symmetric operators. Opposed to that, in the case of operational indistinguishability, the design of the experimental setup is the source of reduction. A linear ion trap with a laser beam acting on the ions could be used as an example. Only if the beam waist is less than the spatial separation of the ions, the particles become distinguishable, so by controlling the laser beam the experimentalist can choose which case he is in. The number of such operators is (for n = 2) and thus scales polynomially of order O(N 3 ) with the number of subsystems involved. Therefore, such a highly symmetric system constitutes a class of reduced complexity as compared with a general quantum network of the same size N. This is somewhat surprising as indistinguishability might have been expected to enhance nonclassical features. Symmetry classes Permutation symmetry defines a kind of operational indistinguishability between the subsystems of a given network. This symmetry alone, however, would allow for more symmetry classes than realized in nature by the fundamentally indistinguishable particles, Fermions and Bosons, respectively. The spin-statistics-relation going back to Pauli might be relaxed, if the particles or subsystems are localized in different areas of real space. The location index would, in principle, render these subsystems distinguishable; however, for the following we assume that the actual operators describing the network and its coupling to the outside world are still permutation-symmetric, so that the corresponding super-selection rules apply, as will be discussed below. This would imply, e.g. that electrons, localized in different semiconductor quantum dots, could live in the state-subspace of Bose-symmetry (or of any other "paraboson" symmetry class as well; cf. Table III), provided we are able to prepare such states from some standard initial state: Directed transient symmetry breaking could do this job (cf. Sect. V E 4). Any symmetry type can be characterized by a Young diagram and is equivalent to a irreducible representation of the permutation group S N spanned by the basis vectors. As an example, Table III shows all possible symmetries for a N = 4 particle system. Since a definite angular momentum quantum number j is assigned to every Young diagram, there are 2j +1 states of equal symmetry type but different energy (i.e. different configuration). If the system is subjected to permutation-symmetric operators only, the super-selection rules prohibit any transition between different Young tables. In case the system under consideration is in a specific state with angular momentum j, the state space reached by applying any collective operator ijk,0 is of dimension 2j + 1. Therefore (2j + 1) 2 parameters (expectation values) are needed to describe the system. The total number of parameters, N/2 j=0 (2j + 1) 2 = 1 6 (N + 1)(N + 2)(N + 3) is exactly the number 0 of collective operators ijk,0 (see eq. (5.36)). Structure and Hamilton-models For fundamentally indistinguishable particles, the subsystem index has no physical meaning. However, it may happen that a specific property is not only a good quantum number but a unique constant of motion for any subsystem. Localization in real space is a pertinent example; the subsystem-index is then mapped onto a spatial position-index R. By this position any subsystem becomes distinguishable, in principle. The phases (entering the collective operators) get a physical meaning ("wave length"). An "operational" indistinguishability remains, if the Hamiltonian describing the network does still contain collective-operators of the type,0 only. Typical Hamilton-models include m = 1, 2 -particle operators. The structure tends to break permutationsymmetry for the localized states as the coupling usually depends on the distance |R − R |. This partial selectivity can be described as a perturbation via collective operators,b with b = 0. If all pertinent distances could be made equal, the breaking of the permutation symmetry would go to zero. For N > D + 1 (in D dimensions) however, the interaction distances cannot all be the same. A partial remedy is the introduction of a "quantum bus": In this case the nodes do not interact directly but only indirectly via a common degree of freedom. This degree of freedom could be a central spin, but typically is implemented as a collective mode (like the phonon mode of a cold ion trap ). D. Symmetry breaking and irreversibility Constrained operations will lead, quantum mechanically, to selection rules accompanied by a tremendous reduction of the state space available to the system dynamics starting from a given initial state. This situation needs to be distinguished from lack of control (measurement data) implying lack of information (entropy S > 0). In so far as this lack of control refers to expectation values b = 0 (which would be absent for strict permutation symmetry), "uncontrolled" symmetry breaking may be said to lead to an ensemble description and irreversibility: The true state space has been reduced to the smaller one defined by the assumed permutation symmetry. In this case, however, the "decoherence" does not reflect the influence of an external bath but is rather of "internal" origin. Phenomenologically ony may try to model these effects, as usual, via some decoherence times; however, it is not clear yet under what conditions such a procedure would be appropriate. Clearly it should, at most, work for sufficiently large networks and only to the extent that the reduction is really substantial (cf. ref. ). The decoherence time would then, in turn, allow to assess symmetry breaking effects in a global way. In the following, we will restrict ourselves to unitary transformations. Cyclic permutations: generalized echoes The pulse-like manipulation of Hamiltonians, for t j ≤ t < t j+1, j = 0, 1, 2,... (5.39) to shape unitary evolutions at will, has become a popular approach to quantum computation. One basic operation is the "halting operation", j (∆t j ) =1, which would require j ≡ 0. This condition cannot be realized, in general. The wellknown spin-echoes are formally based on time reversal, thus undoing a unitary evolution over a time period ∆t/2 within the next period ∆t/2: This time-reversal cannot be implemented either; however, its effect can be simulated in any discrete Hilbertspace of dimension n by means of the cyclic permutation operations n−1,0, as introduced in section II B. Let us consider the time-independent Hamiltonian. It is convenient to require tr = 0 so that Here we have assumed for simplicity that the application of n−1,0 (cf. eq. (2.8)) does not consume any additional time. n−1,0 generates cyclic permutations between all the states E k of the spectrum. Any initial eigenstate thus visits all the other eigenstates for the same time ∆t/n so that, due to the constraint eq. (5.42) the total acquired phase adds up to zero. This invariance property holds for any initial state |, as such a state can be written as a superposition of eigenstates, and any eigenstate returns to its initial phase separately. Selective control In principle, the results obtained in Sect. V E 1 may also be used for a network of N subsystems of dimension n each. The condition is, that one is able to implement the respective cyclic operator: For a network with (distinguishable) non-interacting subsystems we simply have to replace n−1,0 by the product-operator Q = In the case of identical subsystems, interactions may lift the degeneracy of the network-eigenstates. We consider the example of a network of 2-level-subsystems and an interaction of the typ This interaction modifies the eigen-spectrum (allowing for selectivity) while leaving the eigenstates unchanged (i.e. as product-states), |p(N )... p ; p() = 0, 1 (cf. eq. (5.27)). Single-particle transitions are allowed only between states which differ at one position ("Hamming distance" 1). A convenient numbering, s, of the 2 N states allowing for cyclic permutation is given in Table II. For a large network N, the echo becomes difficult to implement practically, as it requires ∼ 2 2N short but at the same time frequency-selective -pulses per time period ∆t. In general, interactions will also modify the eigenstates (i.e. lead to a non-product form). A simple example for N = n = 2 is provided by eq. (5.18) - (5.20). It has been proposed to exploit some approximate stroboscopic invariance also for open systems under the condition ∆t ≪ c, where c is a typical timescale for dissipation. However, such short pulses will easily come in conflict with their required selectivity in frequency-space and thus tend to restrict practical implementations of their proposal to small networks only. Furthermore, it is unlikely that the additional control interactions could work without inducing uncontrollable features on their own. Supression of decoherence would amount to increase the pertinent decoherence-time and -length to macroscopic dimensions (which typically happens for very special and restricted state-spaces only, like in superconductivity or Bose-Einstein condensation). 1 0 1 2 00 01 11 10 3 000 001 011 010 110 111 101 100 4 0000 0001 0011 0010 0110 0111 0101 0100 1100... TABLE II. Circular sequences of product states with Hamming distance 1 for various network sizes N. These sequences can be constructed recursively: Sequence N + 1 is obtained from that of N by repeating each member and supplementing it from the right by 0, 1, respectively. (There are other sequences with the same property.) Interplay between selective and collective interactions Selective interactions violate the selection rules implicit in permutation-symmetric interactions. This qualitatively different dynamical behaviour can be exploited to implement specific functionalities: One possibility is to address different symmetry-classes via selective coupling (i.e. controlled symmetry breaking); another possibility is to suppress transition due to permutationsymmetric interactions by using states of different symmetry, which, nevertheless, could all be prepared selectively ("decoherence-free subspace"). To be specific, let us consider a network of N pseudospins without mutual interactions, but in the presence of a quantum bus (i.e. a collective mode to which all spins are coupled in the same way). We further assume that the coupling to a larger field can be made at will either selective or collective. We start (for N = 4, n = 2) with the permutation-symmetric ground state |0000, (j = 2). By applying selective laser pulses and exploiting the coupling to the quantum-bus we can generate the EPR-state 1 √ 2 (|01 − |10 ) within the pair = 1, 2. The total 4particle state then becomes a member of the symmetry class j = 1, see Table III. If permutation symmetry is restored now, transitions are possible only within the (2j + 1)-dimensional subspace of this symmetry class (on a time-scale less than the decoherence time). This would allow to study finite systems of (operationally) indistinguishable subsystems of a symmetry not realized in nature by fundamentally indistinguishable particles! It is straightforward to extend this scheme to N > 4. Alternatively, the selection rules can readily be exploited as a means for stabilization: For this purpose we assume that the "unwanted" dynamics (coupling to the bath) is permutation-symmetric, while the control dynamics to be used is selective (i.e. not subject to the selection rules). For N = 4 we could take the three lowest energy states j = 2, 1, 0. Unitary dynamics within this subspace would (in the ideal case) not be perturbed by dissipation, if the bath was kept at zero temperature. (There are higher energy levels with the same symmetry, though.) It is thus preferable to use the multiplicity of the states j = 0 (for N even) which would decouple from the bath exactly, as each of those states is the only member of its symmetry class (see Table III): There is nothing to connect to under the action of a permutation-symmetric coupling (cf. ref ). Such schemes have been investigated by a number of authors. The resulting stabilization is limited by the fact that the symmetry selection rules will, in practice, not hold strictly. VI. SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS In this paper we have addressed composite systems consisting of N subsystems of respective dimension n. We have been concerned with applications of (selective) cluster-operators and collective operators, both based on unitary local operator sets, and both being orthogonal and complete. The former are very useful in characterizing entanglement of pure network states, in particular of cat-states, for any n and N. Commuting sets of cluster-operators have been derived. The latter are adapted to situations in which individual subsystems cannot be selected. Classically this would imply a loss of information about the resulting state. Quantum-mechanically, this lack of control would rather give rise to entanglement -with super-selection rules tremendously reducing the state-space available: Actually its dimension becomes polynomial in N. Such states have been proposed as subspaces of reduced decoherence (with respect to permutation-symmetric bath interations). We have suggested that localized, artificial quantum networks, subjected to certain symmetry-breaking initialization steps, might live in state-symmetry-classes that otherwise cannot occur for fundamentally indistinguishable particles.

Less is More: Quantifying the Security Benefits of Debloating Web Applications As software becomes increasingly complex, its attack surface expands enabling the exploitation of a wide range of vulnerabilities. Web applications are no exception since modern HTML5 standards and the ever-increasing capabilities of JavaScript are utilized to build rich web applications, often subsuming the need for traditional desktop applications. One possible way of handling this increased complexity is through the process of software debloating, i.e., the removal not only of dead code but also of code corresponding to features that a specific set of users do not require. Even though debloating has been successfully applied on operating systems, libraries, and compiled programs, its applicability on web applications has not yet been investigated. In this paper, we present the first analysis of the security benefits of debloating web applications. We focus on four popular PHP applications and we dynamically exercise them to obtain information about the server-side code that executes as a result of client-side requests. We evaluate two different debloating strategies (file-level debloating and function-level debloating) and we show that we can produce functional web applications that are 46% smaller than their original versions and exhibit half their original cyclomatic complexity. Moreover, our results show that the process of debloating removes code associated with tens of historical vulnerabilities and further shrinks a web applications attack surface by removing unnecessary external packages and abusable PHP gadgets.

A multienzyme complex for CO2 fixation. Acetyl-coenzyme A carboxylase from Euglena gracilis strain Z was isolated as a component of a multienzyme complex which includes phosphoenolpyruvate carboxylase and malate dehydrogenase. The multienzyme complex was shown to exist in crude extracts and was purified to a homogeneous protein with a molecular weight of 360,000 by gel filtration. The ratio of the activities of the constituent enzymes was acetyl-CoA carboxylase:phosphoenolpyruvate carboxylase:malate dehydrogenase, 1:25:500. The complex is proposed to operate in conjunction with malic enzyme, which is present in Euglena, to facilitate the formation of substrates, malonyl-CoA, and NADPH, for fatty acid biosynthesis. The interaction of the enzymes may represent a means of control of acetyl-CoA carboxylase activity in organisms which do not possess an enzyme subject to allosteric regulation. The acetyl-CoA carboxylase activity from Euglena is unaffected by citrate and isocitrate.

The Family Context of Toddler Sleep: Routines, Sleep Environment, and Emotional Security Induction in the Hour before Bedtime ABSTRACT Family processes during the pre-bedtime period likely have a crucial influence on toddler sleep, but relatively little previous research has focused on family process in this context. The current study examined several aspects of family process during the pre-bedtime period, including the use of bedtime routines, the qualities of the childs home sleep environment, and the promotion of child emotional security, in families of 30-month-old toddlers (N= 546; 265 female) who were part of a multi-site longitudinal study of toddler development. These characteristics were quantified using a combination of parent- and observer-reports and examined in association with child sleep using correlation and multiple regression. Child sleep was assessed using actigraphy to measure sleep duration, timing, variability, activity, and latency. Bedtime routines were examined using parents daily records. Home sleep environment and emotional security induction were quantified based on observer ratings and in-home observation notes, respectively. All three measures of pre-bedtime context (i.e., bedtime routine inconsistency, poor quality sleep environments, and emotional security induction) were correlated with various aspects of child sleep (significant correlations:.11-.22). The most robust associations occurred between the pre-bedtime context measures and sleep timing (i.e., the timing of the childs sleep schedule) and variability (i.e., night to night variability in sleep timing and duration). Pre-bedtime variables, including bedtime routine consistency, home sleep environment quality, and positive emotional security induction, also mediated the association between family socioeconomic status and child sleep. Our findings underscore the value of considering family context when examining individual differences in child sleep.

Anomaly Detection for IOT/Cloud-Based Model in Fog Computing Using Machine Learning We know that the key technologies that are involved in the Internet of Things are wireless sensor networks and cloud computing, big data, embedded systems, and the internet. It is a giant network with connected devices. These devices gather and share data. But many IoT devices have poor security and cybercriminals are taking benefit of this. The two techniques cloud and fog computing both combined can be used to transfer secure data in IoT devices as cloud computing provides storage of data on cloud servers and fog computing offers us various services to access data and provides support for cloud servers. This research work presents various techniques to detect an intruder and anomaly detection in IoT-based cloud systems. Also, a comparison of all the techniques used to detect intruders and anomalies are compared on various parameters like accuracy, performance, efficiency, precision, recall, the detection rate.

Moe Racine High school Born in Cornwall, Ontario, Canada, Racine attended St. Lawrence High School, now called l’École secondaire catholique La Citadelle. He played football for the school team and then he joined Ottawa St. Anthony's in 1958. Professional career Moe Racine was an offensive tackle for the Ottawa Rough Riders throughout his 17-year career. Racine became a three-time Eastern Conference All-Star at tackle in 1962, 1965, and 1966. Racine was also an accurate placekicker from 1962 to 1967. In 1961, Racine only handled the kickoffs, but then added placekicking the following year. Racine finished second in scoring in the Eastern Conference in 1962, 1964, and 1965, finally winning the East scoring crown in 1966 with 71 points. Racine's best field goal percentage was 57.1% (12 of 21) in 1965, his next best 52.4% (11 of 21) in 1964, which was considered good at a period when the league average was much lower than when placekicking became a specialty in the 1970s. Racine finished kicking during the 1967 season, ending his career with 392 career points. In Racine's 17-year career, he participated in 5 Grey Cup games, winning four as a tackle: in 1960, 1968, 1969, 1973, losing one as tackle and placekicker in 1966, when he converted one of two Ottawa touchdowns. His jersey number #62 was retired by the Rough Riders at the end of his career in 1974. Racine is a member of the Cornwall and Ottawa Sports Hall of Fame and in 2014 Moe Racine was inducted into the Canadian Football Hall of Fame. There is also a book memoir "Moe The Toe - Never My Dream", released in late 2014 which chronicles Racine's life and football career. The book was written by his son Thom. Family His son, Bruce Racine, is a former National Hockey League goalie. Bruce was a two time all-American at Northeastern University and two time Beanpot MVP and was a member of the 1991 Stanley Cup winning Pittsburgh Penguins - making a rare father and son combination of Grey Cup winner and Stanley Cup winner. Another son, Thom Racine, became a police officer with the Cornwall Police Service. It was announced on March 4, 2018 that Racine had died. He was 80 years old.

Linear and nonlinear estimation with uncertain observations The state estimation problems with observations which may or may not contain a signal at any sample time is considered from a covariance assignment viewpoint. The closed form solution for directly assigning steady state estimation error covariances and their assignability conditions are derived for the linear case. For the nonlinear case, upper bounds on the estimation error covariance are assigned. An example is given for illustration in which the robustness of the proposed scheme is assessed.

Get our daily newsletter Upgrade your inbox and get our Daily Dispatch and Editor's Picks. FOR José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero, Spain's unpopular prime minister, it was a question of what would be less painful—early elections in November, or at their expected date in March 2012. Today, although his Socialist Party is still languishing behind Mariano Rajoy's conservative People's Party (PP) in the polls, he chose to shorten the suffering. Spain will hold a general election on November 20th. Two figures sum up the dilemma Mr Zapatero found himself in. New unemployment data show that in the second quarter of 2011 the number of Spanish jobless dropped only slightly, to 21%, despite a busy tourism season as European holidaymakers shunned unsettled north African countries. That is still the worst rate in the European Union. It may get worse still towards the end of the year, as seasonal jobs disappear. Spain remains in the front line of the euro zone's debt crisis. Yesterday the spread on Spanish sovereign debt over German benchmark bonds reached 340 points, confirming that last week's euro-zone summit, which agreed a second bail-out for Greece, did not mark an end to the single currency's problems. This morning Moody's, a ratings agency, warned it might soon downgrade Spanish debt. Some analysts had suggested that calling an early election could help reduce pressure on Spanish debt. A recent editorial in the Socialist-friendly newspaper El País urging an early poll may also have had some influence on Mr Zapatero's thinking. His final decision will have been made jointly with Alfredo Pérez Rubalcaba, who will lead the Socialists into these elections after Mr Zapatero said earlier this year that he would not seek a third term in office. This week a poll from the state-run Centre for Sociological Investigation (CIS) indicated that Mr Rubalcaba had begun to eat into Mr Rajoy's lead, cutting it from ten percentage points to seven. If such a result were repeated at the election, Mr Rajoy would find himself at the helm of a minority government. He would have little trouble finding parliamentary support from business-friendly nationalist parties in Catalonia and the Basque country. But without a majority he might find it harder to enact major reforms to Spain's sluggish economy. Mr Zapatero today said he aimed to complete his own set of reforms by September 26th and would pass new deficit-busting measures in mid-August. An early vote, he claimed, would help bring “political and economic certainty” to the fourth biggest economy in the euro zone. Many fear that if Spain were to follow Greece, Ireland and Portugal into an international bail-out, it could be enough to bring down the euro. The question of what a PP government would do in office remains largely unanswered. Mr Rajoy wants to cut business taxes to generate growth and jobs, but must also meet tough budget-deficit targets. This year the aim is to bring down the deficit from 9.2% of GDP to 6%; next year the target is 4.4%. So where will Mr Rajoy make the savings? "I do not intend to make social cuts," he said this morning. He wants to avoid scaring voters, but it is now time for the man who looks likely to be Spain's next prime minister to give them a clearer idea of what they can expect from him.

Corrosion inhibition of iron surfaces with phosphatidic acid Abstract Preventing the corrosion of iron in inaccessible structures requires a coating method that reaches all surface areas and creates a uniform protective layer. An ages old practice to protect iron artefacts is to coat them with animal fat, that is, a mixture of lipids. This method is accidentally ingenious: some natural phospholipids found in animal fat have the potential to form a tightly packed self-assembled monolayer on metal oxide surfaces, similar to the surfactant monolayers that have attracted increasing attention lately. Thus, the most primitive corrosion prevention method may point at a way to coat complex iron structures in an industrial environment. Here the ability of phosphatidic acid, a natural lipid, to coat and protect iron surfaces was examined. Iron coated quartz crystal microbalance (QCM) sensors were used for the experiments, to monitor the deposition of the lipid as well as the acidic corrosion (dissolution) of iron in situ, in real time. The sensors were coated by self-assembled monolayers of di-myristoyl phosphatidic acid using the liposome deposition method. In this process, 50-100 nm vesicles formed by the lipid are delivered in an aqueous solution and spontaneously coat the iron surfaces upon contact. QCM and ellipsometry measurements confirmed that continuous bilayer and monolayer surface coatings can be achieved by this method. QCM measurements also confirmed that the layers were corrosion resistant in 0.01M acetic acid solution that would dissolve the thin iron layer in minutes in the absence of the protective coating. XPS results suggested a chemisorption-based mechanism of phosphatidic acid attachment to the iron surface. Hence, liposome deposition of phosphatidic acid offers a suitable solution to coat iron surfaces in inaccessible structures in situ.

Spin-charge-lattice coupling in quasi-one-dimensional Ising spin chain CoNb2O6 Magnetization, magnetostriction and dielectric constant measurements are performed on single crystals of quasi-one-dimensional Ising spin chain CoNb2O6 at temperatures below and above the antiferromagnetic phase transition. Field-induced magnetic transitions are clearly reflected in magnetodielectric and magnetostriction data. Sharp anomalies are observed around the critical fields of antiferromagnetic to ferrimagnetic and ferrimagnetic to saturated-paramagnetic transition in both magnetodielectric and magnetostriction experiments. Detailed analysis of temperature and field dependence of dielectric constant and magnetostriction suggests that spins are coupled with lattice as well as charges in CoNb2O6. Below the antiferromagnetic transition temperature, the overall resemblance in anomalies, observed in various physical parameters such as magnetization, dielectric constant, magnetostriction and magnetic entropy change gives a deeper insight about the influence of spin configuration on these parameters in CoNb2O6.

Ischemic colitis after enema administration: Incidence, timing, and clinical features BACKGROUND Enema administration is a common procedure in the emergency department (ED). However, several published case reports on enema-related ischemic colitis (IC) have raised the concerns regarding the safety of enema agents. Nevertheless, information on its true incidence and characteristics are still lacking. AIM To investigate the incidence, timing, and risk factors of IC in patients receiving enema. METHODS We consecutively collected the data of all adult patients receiving various enema administrations in the ED from January 2010 to December 2018 and identified patients confirmed with IC following enema. Of 8320 patients receiving glycerin enema, 19 diagnosed of IC were compared with an age-matched control group without IC. RESULTS The incidence of IC was 0.23% among 8320 patients receiving glycerin enema; however, there was no occurrence of IC among those who used other enema agents. The mean age ± standard deviation (SD) of patients with glycerin enema-related IC was 70.2 ± 11.7. The mean time interval ± SD from glycerin enema administration to IC occurrence was 5.5 h ± 3.9 h (range 1-15 h). Of the 19 glycerin enema-related IC cases, 15 (79.0%) were diagnosed within 8 h. The independent risk factors for glycerin-related IC were the constipation score and leukocytosis (OR, 4.5; 95%CI: 1.4-14.7, P = 0.012). CONCLUSION The incidence of glycerin enema-related IC was 0.23% and occurred mostly in the elderly in the early period following enema administration. Glycerin enema-related IC was associated with the constipation score and leukocytosis. INTRODUCTION Enema administration is a procedure used to stimulate stool evacuation and is generally considered to be safe. It is most commonly performed to relieve severe constipation. In addition, it is also used for the treatment of hyperkalemia and hepatic encephalopathy. Enemas function through several different mechanisms. All cleansing enemas induce rectal distension and subsequently stimulate colon contraction and stool elimination. Other enemas such as phosphate enema function by direct stimulation of the muscles of the colon. There are several enema agents: Phosphate, saline, tap water, glycerin, and a synthetic sugar for the cleaning of the colon; and Kalimate for the treatment of hyperkalemia. The elderly are five times more prone to constipation because of the effect of medication, immobility, and a blunted urge to defecate. Many patients usually give themselves enemas at home owing to the availability of over-the-counter medications. However, some patients need urgent care and are referred to the emergency department (ED) for the aforementioned medical conditions. The number of patients referred to the ED for enema administration has increased over time. Given the surge in the elderly population, the number of patients requiring this urgent care in hospitals is expected to rise. Adverse events after enema administration are rarely reported in the literatures but may cause critical conditions in patients. Enema-related complications include bowel perforation, ischemic colitis (IC), malignant hyperthermia, and colonic mural hematoma. In general, IC is known to be transitional or self-limited, but sometimes requires surgical intervention or leads to death especially in the postoperative period. The existence of a relationship between IC and enema administration has been suggested in the literature. Several case reports have reported IC following enema administration for the treatment of constipation, preoperative bowel cleansing and the correction of hyperkalemia. Therefore, in some studies, enema administration has been considered to be a risk factor for the development of IC. However, despite the popularity of this procedure, there have been no studies to systemically investigate enema-related IC. The present study aimed to investigate the incidence, timing and risk factors of IC in patients receiving enema. P-Reviewer: Yang JL S-Editor: Gong ZM L-Editor: A P-Editor: Wang LL Study population In this retrospective study, we analyzed the data of adult patients with confirmed IC after enema administration in the ED between January 2010 and February 2018. The inclusion criteria were as follows: Adults aged > 19 years; and Patients with confirmed IC after enema administration but without suspected IC symptoms and clinical examination results (e.g., hematochezia, sudden drop in blood pressure, abdominal tenderness, and guarding) before enema. The exclusion criteria were as follows: Patients with unspecific vascular hypoperfusion or its similar condition ( e.g., cardiac failure, septic shock, hemodynamic shock, hemodialysis, and aortic surgery), colonic obstruction (volvulus, adhesion, stricture, hernia, colon cancer, or metastasis), vascular occlusion (based on the findings of follow-up CTs performed after enema), and infectious or inflammatory bowel disease (e.g., inflammatory bowel disease, radiation colitis, and infectious colitis); and Time interval from enema administration to IC occurrence of > 24 h based on the prior case reports. Among 17087 adult patients receiving enema in the ED, 542 patients were excluded due to infectious or inflammatory bowel disease (n = 123), colonic malignancy (n = 283), and mechanical ileus (n = 136). The remnant patients received one of three types of enema agents: 8320 received glycerin enema (150 g of glycerin in 150 mL of purified water); 7819 received Kalimate enema (calcium polystyrene sulfonate; 30 g of Kalimate in 200 mL of purified water); and 406 received Duphalac enema . After excluding patients with predisposing events, hematochezia, or long-time interval, 19 patients in the glycerin enema group were finally included. For a case-control study with a case to control ratio of 1:4, an age-matched control group was randomly selected from patients receiving glycerin enema. Figure 1 shows the flow diagram of the study population. Clinical and laboratory data The clinical data included age, sex, age-adjusted Charlson comorbidity index (ACCI) score, constipation score, medication, enema agents, time of enema administration, initial symptoms, initial vital signs, and laboratory findings at the time before enema administration. The ACCI score was calculated using the algorithm proposed by Charlson et al, in which 19 comorbid conditions were weighted and scored and additional points were added for age. The constipation score was calculated using modified simple criteria based on the Wexner constipation scoring system. Four conditions of these criteria were: History of chronic constipation; recurrent usage of defecation assistance; last defecation ≥ 5 d prior to admission to the ED; unsuccessful evacuation attempts using enema within 24 h. Each condition was scored on a two-point scale. IC-related medications were classified into two groups -drugs with a moderate evidence level and those with a low evidence level -according to the drugs reported to predispose patients to IC in a previous report. The clinical data on the post-enema administration duration included symptom change, time of a change in symptom or vital signs, diagnostic method, treatment method, and treatment outcome. The radiologic and endoscopic reports were also recorded. In patients diagnosed with IC, bowel preparation was not performed before colonoscopy because of the risk of perforation or toxic dilation. The time of IC occurrence was defined as the time between enema and a change in symptoms and/or vital signs requiring further examination or treatment in the presence of suspicions of IC. Radiologic examinations All analytic images were available on a picture archiving and communications system (PACS). Plain abdominal radiographs were routinely performed in all patients before enema administration in the ED. Of the 19 patients diagnosed with IC following glycerin enema administration, 18 received contrast-enhanced abdominopelvic computed tomography (AP-CT) and one underwent non-contrast enhanced AP-CT. All AP-CT images were acquired using a multidetector CT scanner (Somatom Sensation 16 CT scanners, Siemens Healthcare, Erlangen, Germany) with or without intravenous contrast material (Ultravist 300 or Ultravist 370; Bayer Schering Pharma, Berlin, Germany). AP-CT consisted of a portal phase image with a fixed 60-70 S delay following the injection of intravenous contrast media. Image analysis All radiologic images were reviewed by two radiologists (Hong GS and Ahn Y with > 13 years and 4 years of experience in abdominal imaging, respectively) in consensus. Plain abdominal radiographs were reviewed for abnormal gas or abnormal bowel gas patterns except for constipation. The following selected imaging features were reviewed on AP-CT images: Segmental bowel wall thickening , decreased bowel wall enhancement , mesenteric manifestation (pericolic fluid or fat stranding and peritoneal free fluid or mesenteric edema), pneumatosis coli, portal and/or drain venous gas, pneumoperitoneum, and vascular occlusion. Statistical analysis All variables were tested for normal distribution using the Kolmogorov-Smirnov test. Comparisons between the case and control groups were performed using the chi square test or Fisher's exact test for categorical variables and the Student's t-test or the Mann-Whitney U-test for continuous variables. Conditional logistic regression was used to identify risk factors associated with IC. Multivariate logistic regression analysis was performed using backward elimination. Statistical significance was considered when a probability value (P value) was less than 0.05. For all statistical analysis, a commercial software (SPSS, version 23; SPSS, Chicago, IL, United States; and SAS version 9.4; SAS Institute; Cary, NC, United States) was used. Table 1 shows the incidence of IC following enema administration according to the enema agent used. The incidence of edema-related IC was very low; 0.23 % (19/8320) in the glycerin enema group, but there was no occurrence of IC with the usage of the other enema agents. Major adverse events occurred in 52.6% (10/19) of the patients with glycerin enema-related IC: 47.4% (9/19) requiring surgical resections and 21.1% (4/19) resulting in in-hospital mortality. Demographic and clinical characteristics The demographic and clinical characteristics of the study population were similar between the two groups with or without glycerin enema-related IC ( Table 2). Of note, most patients diagnosed with glycerin-related IC were elderly . The main initial symptom of the IC group was abdominal pain , followed by constipation . There was no significant difference between the IC and non-IC groups in terms of initial vital signs, symptoms, ACCI, and medication. The review of plain abdominal radiographs showed no significant difference between the IC and non-IC groups. There was a statistically significant difference in the constipation score and WBC count between the two groups. Of the 19 patients diagnosed with glycerin-related IC, 8 (42.1%) had a history of chronic constipation, 3 (15.8%) recurrently used defecation assistance, 4 (21.1%) lastly defecated ≥ 5 d prior to admission to the ED, and 6 (31.6%) had a history of evacuation failure using enema within 24 h. In the 19 patients diagnosed with IC, the mean ± standard deviation of WBC count was 13.4 ± 7.5 10 3 /L before enema administration. Of these patients, 16 had available records of their WBC counts immediately after enema. The WBC count (11.6 ± 6.9 10 3 /L) after enema was slightly decreased as compared with that before enema. After the administration of enema, patients with IC mainly presented hematochezia [57.9%, (11/19) Figure 2 shows the time interval between enema administration and IC occurrence. Mean time interval ± SD from glycerin enema administration to IC occurrence was 5.5 h ± 3.9 h (range: 1-15 h). Of the 19 patients, 15 (79.0%) developed IC within 8 h of glycerin enema administration. Of the 11 patients in whom IC occurred within 4 h of glycerin enema administration, 7 (63.6%) underwent surgical resection, whereas of the 8 patients who experienced IC after 4 h, 2 (25%) underwent surgical resection. DISCUSSION To best our knowledge, there has been no study on a systemic approach of enemarelated IC. Our data suggest a necessity for observation in the early period after enema administration in the elderly with glycerin enema based on the constipation scores and initial laboratory findings. The present study is the first to investigate the incidence of IC according to enema agent. We showed that the incidence of glycerin enema-related IC was very low. Niv et al reported that colon perforation after cleansing enema occurred in 1.4% of patients with acute constipation in the ED. However, this is mainly due to the inappropriate positioning of the device tip, even though it might be associated with a localized weakness of the rectal wall. It is known that non-occlusive IC is typically transient, although transmural necrosis can be induced by prolonged non-occlusive ischemia. Approximately 15% of patients with IC progress to gangrenous colitis, resulting in life-threatening conditions. However, in the present study, nearly half of patients with glycerin-related IC received surgical resection for transmural necrosis, and four patients died during hospitalization. This is a higher rate than that reported previously. The higher surgical rate obtained in the present study could be caused by the severe symptoms. However, in all the cases examined, surgical resection was determined not only based on the symptoms but also according to the disease severity assessed by CT and/or colonoscopy findings. In addition, as aforementioned, all the patients who underwent surgical resection were histologically confirmed to have transmural necrosis. Therefore, our data may imply that glycerin enema leads to a relatively severe IC, resulting in a progression to gangrenous colitis. In the present study, we could not define the relationship between Kalimate enema and IC occurrence although all the cases proposed here had crystals with a November 7, 2020 Volume 26 Issue 41 1 Calculated using a modified simple criteria based on the Wexner constipation scoring system. IC: Ischemic colitis; ED: Emergency department; ACCI: Age-adjusted Charlson comorbidity index; SD: Standard deviation; CRP: C-reactive protein; WBC: White blood cell; AP-CT: Abdominopelvic computed tomography; NA: Not available; N/A: Not applicable. characteristic crystalline mosaic pattern on the mucosa and ulcer bed tissue similar to those of previous reports. This may be because the cases proposed here had a medication history of repeated use of Kalimate enema solution or oral Kalimate. In addition, IC occurred at a relatively longer time after the last administration of Kalimate. Therefore, it is difficult to definitely indicate its association with IC occurrence, and further studies are warranted. The eligibility criteria proposed here were based on the clinical conditions (symptoms, signs, and possible etiologies of IC), and not on CT or endoscopy findings. It is mainly because aggressive workup (i.e., CT and colonoscopy) is not usually performed, unless an underlying disease is suspected in patients requiring enema for constipation in the ED. Therefore, existing IC before enema could be overlooked because self-limited or transient IC can often present with vague abdominal symptoms. However, although self-limited or transient IC caused by constipation exists before enema, it is plausible that glycerin enema triggers or aggravates mild IC, considering the high proportion of transmural necrosis in the present study. Although glycerin enema-related IC rarely occurs, its timing is a notable consideration. Prior studies demonstrated that increased length of stay at the ED Drug proposed to predispose to IC 1.9 (0.6-5.7) 0.260 1 Calculated using modified simple criteria based on the Wexner constipation scoring system. CI: Condence interval. ACCI: Age-adjusted Charlson comorbidity index; CRP: C-reactive protein; IC: Ischemic colitis. CE-CT (n = 18) NCE-CT (n = 1) Segmental wall thickening n = 18 n = 1 Location (Rectum/sigmoid/descending/transverse/ascending colon) 16/17/10/7/2 1/1/0/0/0 Wall thickening thickness (mm), mean ± SD 9.57 ± 2.39 5.6 Wall thickening pattern (circumferential/eccentric) 18 contributes to ED crowding. ED crowding is associated with adverse patient outcomes, including increased mortality. Therefore, determining the optimal observation time for this patient group in the ED is important, considering that glycerin enema-related IC is a lethal complication despite its rarity. In the present study, IC occurred in 15 (79.0%) of 19 patients within 8 h of glycerin enema administration. Notably, surgical resection was performed in 7 (63.6%) of 11 patients in whom IC occurred in ≤ 4 h. Based on previous case reports, the time interval between cleansing enema and IC occurrence ranged from 30 min to 6 h. Chang et al reported a case wherein IC and hematochezia developed 6 h after glycerin enema for preoperative bowel cleansing for coronary bypass surgery. Park et al reported a case of IC that occurred within 2 h of normal saline enema for preoperative bowel cleansing. Most recently, Yoon et al reported a case of IC that presented abdominal pain and hematochezia within 30 min of enema administration. Our data suggest that it may be necessary to observe patients receiving glycerin enema in the early period after administration (at least 4 to 8 h), considering timing of IC and high surgical resection rates. In the current study, it is worth noting that the constipation score was one of the significant independent predictive factors of IC among patients receiving glycerin enema at the ED. We used a modified constipation scoring system to obtain an objective definition of constipation. Prior studies demonstrated that constipation may be one of the predisposing factors for IC. The reasonable mechanism for this was advanced by Anon et al : The increased colonic luminal pressure could cause poorer blood flow in the colonic wall. Therefore, in this setting, edema could aggravate the increased intraluminal pressure and cause vascular spasm due to the lower temperature of the enema fluid than the body temperature, resulting in a reduced mucosal circulation. In our study, we also identified leukocytosis as another predisposing factor for glycerin enema-related IC, as shown in other studies on the risk factors of IC. Leukocytosis is a common sign of infection, but not a definitive marker of significant infection. Reactive leukocytosis can occur because of various etiologies, including constipation. Obokhare showed that constipation and fecal impaction can mildly elevate the WBC count. In the present study, the WBC count after enema was slightly lower than that before enema. In addition, none of the patients showed any signs and symptoms of infection. Therefore, leukocytosis may be associated with chronic constipation. According to a prior study, leukocytosis may imply the presence of transient IC in patients with chronic constipation. In conclusion, leukocytosis is not a specific clinical marker of IC but may be associated with chronic constipation or transient IC. Regardless of its cause, in older patients with leukocytosis and chronic constipation, glycerin enema may trigger or induce a relatively severe ischemic colitis. However, in clinical practice, these conditions (i.e., high constipation score and leukocytosis) predisposing to IC are commonly seen in the elderly. They might have little discriminatory power in the elderly, although we conducted our study with an age-matched control group to identify the best predisposing factors. Nevertheless, our study showed the possibility of constipation conditions and initial laboratory findings being of great importance in portending IC after glycerin enema administration. CT plays an important role in the assessment and triage of patients with IC in the acute phase : Defining the injured colonic segment, suggesting irreversibility of bowel necrosis, detecting the complication, and excluding non-ischemic causes. However, our study identified diagnostic difficulties and errors on CT in diagnosing glycerin enema-related IC, which was 36.8% of the IC group. In the current study, contrast-enhanced CT did not show a decreased enhancement of the colonic wall in 44.4% of the IC group. This may reflect an early episode of IC, making it difficult to distinguish IC from non-ischemic colitis. However, the imaging findings and regional distribution of glycerin enema-related IC in our study were not significantly different from those in the published literature on non-occlusive IC. Therefore, this may be due to a lack of knowledge and awareness regarding the acute clinical setting (i.e., IC) occurring in the elderly following glycerin-enema administration. Therefore, in this setting, the interpretation of CT findings may require more attention, although the misdiagnosis may not be of clinical relevance due to the full consideration of all the available evidence in diagnosing IC. Our study has some limitations. First, the retrospective nature of the study may cause a selection bias in the data analysis. Second, the small number of study patients may lead to a lack of statistical power in our results. However, the rarity of the disease entity investigated here can offset these weaknesses of our study. Third, our study was conducted based on a single center experience. Therefore, the general application of our results may not be appropriate. Fourth, the clinical information regarding ICrelated medications and medical history may not be sufficient, although the clinical information is not as comprehensive for patients hospitalized in the ED. Fifth, the incidence of enema-related IC can be underestimated because the current study may have consisted of patients with high suspicion of IC. A previous study showed that this condition was initially suspected in only 25% of patients. The diagnosis of IC depends on the severity of the presentation. Patients with transient IC may be asymptomatic after enema administration. Moreover, the initial presentation of IC is nonspecific. As a result, there could be a number of cases that were lost to follow-up in our study. Finally, as previously mentioned, we did not clarify whether the crystal deposition of Kalimate in the colon induces IC or not. To resolve this issue, it is essential to investigate the presence or absence and the amount of crystal deposition in the non-IC group receiving Kalimate enema, although they do not receive endoscopic biopsy in the colon unless acute abdominal symptoms exist. Therefore, this is an inevitable limitation in a retrospective observational study. CONCLUSION In conclusion, glycerin enema-related IC occurred in 0.23% of the patients, occurring mostly in the elderly in the early period following enema administration. Despite the rarity of this disease entity, it can lead to a relatively severe IC, resulting in the need for surgical resection. Glycerin enema-related IC was associated with the constipation score, and leukocytosis. These data could provide useful clues for the triage of patients necessitating observation after glycerin enema in the ED. Research background Many patients usually give themselves enema at home due to over-the-counter medications. However, the number of patients referred to the emergency department for enema has increased over time. Enema administration is one of the most common procedures in the emergency department. Research motivation Several published case reports of enema-related ischemic colitis (IC) have raised concerns regarding the safety of enema agents. However, information on its true incidence and characteristics are still lacking. There have been no studies that systemically investigate enema-related IC. Research objectives Our purpose is to investigate the incidence, timing and risk factors of IC in patients receiving enema.

In producing petroleum and other useful fluids from production wells, it is generally known to provide a submergible pumping system, such as an electric submergible pumping system, for raising the fluids collected in a well. Typically, production fluids enter a wellbore via perforations made in a well casing adjacent a production formation. Fluids contained in the formation collect in the wellbore and may be raised by the pumping system to a collection point above the earth's surface. The submergible pumping systems can also be used to move the fluid from one zone to another. In an exemplary submergible pumping system, the system includes several components, such as a submergible electric motor that supplies energy to a submergible pump. The system may further include additional components, such as a motor protector for isolating the motor oil from well fluids. A connector also is used to connect the pumping system to a deployment system, such as cable, coil tubing or production tubing. Power is supplied to the submergible electric motor via a power cable that runs along the deployment system. For example, the power cable may be banded to the outside of the coil tubing or production tubing and run into the well for electrical connection with the submergible motor. In some wellbore environments, the desired fluids are highly viscous. The high viscosity creates difficulty in utilizing conventional submergible pumps, such as centrifugal pumps, for pumping the fluids to another zone or to the surface of the earth. It would be advantageous to have a system and method for reducing the viscosity of the fluid, such as petroleum, to facilitate movement, e.g. pumping of the fluid.

Stevie Wonder performs onstage during The Art of Elysium presents Stevie Wonder's HEAVEN - Celebrating the 10th Anniversary at Red Studios on Jan. 7, 2017 in Los Angeles. An all-star lineup that includes Stevie Wonder, Faith Hill, Jennifer Hudson, Fantasia, Shirley Caesar and many more will perform at Aretha Franklin’s funeral next week. Franklin’s service will be held in Detroit on Aug. 31. Also slated to perform are Ron Isley, Chaka Khan, Yolanda Adams, Jennifer Holliday and Aretha Franklin’s son, Edward Franklin. The list was provided to The Associated Press by Franklin’s longtime publicist, Gwendolyn Quinn. The service will reflect Franklin’s strong gospel roots. Among the gospel stars performing will be Marvin Sapp and Vanessa Bell Armstrong. The Aretha Franklin Choir and the Aretha Franklin Celebration Choir are also on the program. The service will be held at Greater Grace Temple. Franklin died of pancreatic cancer last Thursday at age 76.

The Black Lives Matter movement, which is painfully impotent before Black America, has led a year of national acrimony over the deaths of Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and Freddie Grey. The opportunity for blacks to be brutally honest with ourselves about the corrosive culture of crime and death in our own communities has been hijacked by a horde of sniveling, self-absorbed egotists. Here are five truths being covered up or flat-out ignored by #BlackLivesMatter. Truth 1. Planned Parenthood is profiting from the genocide of black babies. One would think that the exposure of a taxpayer-funded black genocide would have been the focus of furor from Black America’s new civil rights reformers. Yet, while Cornell West and his Black Lives Matter disciples were busy getting themselves arrested for “justice,” a thousand black babies were being aborted with the help of America’s foremost provider, Planned Parenthood. Planned Parenthood officials were caught—several times—on camera revealing how easy it is to abort babies—many of them black—allegedly chopping up their organs and selling their body parts to the highest bidder. And yet, there were no national marches from Black Lives Matter. At least 79% of Planned Parenthood’s abortion mills are within walking distance of black or Hispanic neighborhoods. In New York City in 2009, 47%, or 40,798, of the city’s 87,273 abortions, were performed on black women. Nearly half of the black pregnancies in New York City ended in abortion in 2009 and, yet, Times Square was not filled with Black Lives Matter protesters demanding the shuttering of Planned Parenthood’s doors. Do those black lives not matter? Truth 2. There exists a lopsided self-inflicted violence in Black America, and #BlackLivesMatter doesn’t address it. Where was this embarrassing bunch of celebrity protesters in 2011 when we learned that black males 15-34 were 10 times more likely to die of murder than their white counterparts? According to FBI data, 4,906 black people killed other blacks in 2010 and 2011. That is more than the total number of U.S. military deaths in Iraq over the last decade. More black Americans killed other blacks in two years than were lynched from 1882 to 1968, according to the Tuskegee Institute. It seems that some black lives don’t matter. And it’s our own fault. Of course black people are not unique to intra-racial murder. But a subculture of wanton disregard for human life has consigned so many black neighborhoods to a sort of ceaseless state of despair. “You’re blaming the victims, Jerome,” some say. The problem with that opinion is that it’s a copout. Black people, from the pulpit to the Historic Publications, often avoid turning the spotlight on ourselves. Meanwhile, caskets are filled with the bodies of America’s future. The culture of death thrives in inner cities; millions remain mired in misery. Where there are instances—and there are many—of undeniably bad judgment on the part of police that result in death, we should pursue the facts and punish the guilty. Truth 3. Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and Freddie Gray are not martyrs. On the day he died, Michael Brown was a burglary suspect. After a fistfight and a failed attempt to disarm Officer Darren Wilson, Michael Brown was shot dead before he could continue his attack. That he had his “hands up” in surrender is a pernicious lie. Had Michael Brown not resisted arrest and simply complied with Officer Wilson, he’d still be alive today. Repeat offender Freddie Gray was suspected of selling hard drugs when he was apprehended by Baltimore police. Gray died from a severe spinal cord injury while in police custody. He had a penchant for running from the police and a “history,” according to the Baltimore Sun, “of participating in ‘crash-for-cash’ schemes—injuring himself in law enforcement settings to collect settlements.” Eric Garner was committing the “crime” of selling un-taxed cigarettes when he was apprehended by a half-dozen cops. Garner died after being placed in a chokehold by an arresting officer. Ultimately, a Staten Island grand jury concluded that there wasn’t enough evidence to bring a criminal indictment against the NYPD officer who killed Eric Garner. Reasonable people can debate whether or not the officer’s actions were excessive; however, it’s also worth noting that the medical examiner’s report said that Garner’s bad health, including obesity, contributed to his death. Truth 4. There is no national conspiracy of police officers to hunt black people. The common denominator that connects the deaths of these three men is the fact that they all resisted arrest. None of them deserved death. But they all made terrible decisions that led to their demise. None of the officers that killed these men woke up wanting to murder a black man. That’s a hard truth. Unfortunately the anti-police Black Lives Matter-led protests that resulted in the rioting. looting, and burning of businesses is desperately uninterested in the truth. Even Eric Garner’s daughter “doubts” that her father’s death was motivated by race. Garner’s mother said she would “agree.” Truth 5. We need to be honest with ourselves and face facts. Our nation’s newspapers feature, with haunting predictably, headline after headline detailing the carnage that has consumed dozens of communities where black men kill each other with terrifying regularity. And there are no national rallies, no mass media coverage, and no presidential eulogies to call attention to the madness. So let’s keep it real: Many of black America’s wounds are self-inflicted. So let’s broaden the parameters of our discussion about the issues vexing black Americans and press pause on all the political grandstanding and phony posturing about whose lives matter.

The role of oxidative stress genes and effect of pH on methylene blue sensitized photooxidation of Escherichia coli. In this study, the survival time of wild type E. coli W3110 and 11 mutants was analysed with a plate count method in methylene blue added or control groups under daylight fluoroscence illumination (4950 lux) at different pH values (5.0, 6.0, 7.0, and 8.0) in phosphate buffer. As a result, while the number of bacteria did not decrease under photooxidative stress at pH 5.0 and 6.0 during a 6-hour incubation, the wild type and all mutants decreased more than 2 log. at pH 8.0, and approximately one log. at pH 7.0. It was determined that a 2 log decrease in wild type E. coli takes 3.7 h according to t99 value at pH 8, these values were 2.39 h in the katE mutant, 2.64 h in the soxR mutant, 2.67 h in the oxyR mutant, 2.71 h in the sodB mutant, 3 h in the btuE mutant, 3.38 h in the zwf mutant and 3.40 h in the soxS mutant, respectively (p < 0.05). The roles of these genes were proved with complement tests. Finally, it is found that the effectiveness of photooxidative stress is in direct relation with pH, and the katE, soxR, oxyR, sodB, btuE, zwf, and soxS genes are important for the protection against this stress.

Benchmark NSE Nifty50 index was down 79.15 points at 10,888.15 while BSE Sensex was down 259.54 points at 36,224.79. NEW DELHI: Metal shares were trading in the red with the Nifty Metal index down 1.42 per cent at 3165.4 on Thursday as United States said it would withdraw sanctions on Russian aluminium producer United Company Rusal. Shares of National Aluminium Company (down 3.51 per cent), Hindalco Industries (down 2.71 per cent), Vedanta (down 2.42 per cent) and Hindustan Zinc (down 2.23 per cent) were the worst performers in the index. Jindal Steel & Power (down 1.13 per cent), JSW Steel (down 1.06 per cent) and Steel Authority of India (SAIL) (down 1.01 per cent) too were trading in the red. Among the 50 stocks in the Nifty index, 9 were trading in the green, while 41 were in the red. Shares of YES Bank, Indiabulls Housing Finance, Vedanta, BEL, Ashok Leyland, SBI, Bank of Baroda, Indian Oil Corp, ICICI Bank, ONGC, Hindalco Industries, Axis Bank, Infosys and Tata Motors were among the most traded shares on the NSE.

Laser irradiance propagation in turbulent media The results obtained in recent years on laser irradiance propagation in random weakly inhomogeneous media with large scale index of refraction fluctuations are reviewed. Of particular concern are the problems of the cozrelation theory of fluctuations of irradiance propagating over large distances, where the effects of multiple scattering are greatly pronounced. Much attention is paid to the results on laser beams spread and phase fluctuations. Consideration is given to problem of the study of spatial spikes of irradiance that had passed through a turbulent media; which is comparatively new but important for practical applications. Systematic comparison of the theory with experiment is given where appropriate. The methods of analyses reviewed in this paper are applicable to a class of stochastic and dynamic partial differential equations and thus may be of interest in other areas of engineering reseach.

50 Cent’s relationship with his baby mama and their son, Marquise, is troubling to say the least. They’ve been caught fighting publicly so many times, it’s pretty much common knowledge that Fif strongly dislikes both. More recently, the two parties were fighting again on social media. When will this end? Knowing how petty Fif is, probably never. Check out what went down below. I appreciate all the love & well wishes! There's people I never met that show more love than people that have the same blood as me, and I just want to say thank u to those who do 👌🏾!

Growth and Yield Response of Cayenne Pepper Plant Grown in Different Substrates Culture of Drip Hydroponic Farming Method The soilless farming techniques of growing crops most especially vegetables has increased tremendously in developed countries while it is still new in developing countries such as Nigeria. The research determined the effect of substrates on optimum growth, yield and nutrient composition of cayenne pepper plant so as to form an effective basis for selection of substrates to be used as plant support in soilless farming methods. This research was carried out at the Agricultural and Environmental Engineering experimental farm, Federal University of Technology, Akure. The experiment was carried out in a completely randomized design with three treatments (sawdust, rice husks and soil) and replicated three times. The vegetative growth, yield, biomass weight, water and nutrient, proximate and mineral composition were measured. The results showed that rice husk gave the highest plant height of 29.91 cm, number of leaves of 39.60 and stem girth of 0.3414 cm respectively while sawdust gave the lowest plant height of 17.83 cm and soil gave the lowest number of leaves of 29.36 and stem girth of 0.3059 cm. Higher yields were also recorded from rice husk for cayenne pepper plant while the soil has the least yield. The physiological appearance of the crop and the yields were significantly (P<0.05) affected by the various treatments due to the effects of the substrates and the planting methods. The proximate and mineral compositions of the pepper were higher in the pepper from rice husk and least in the pepper from the soil. These were significantly (P<0.05) affected by the treatments effects as a result of its physicochemical features. With the outcome of this research, it is advisable that soilless farming should be embraced by farmers in areas where there is limitations of land for agricultural activities. Also, federal and state ministry of agriculture should give necessary support for soilless farming in Nigeria. Keywords: Hydroponic, Substrate, Growth, Yield, Quality, Cayenne pepper

Q: Can someone explain this joke about the Primer movie There is a question on the Science Fiction & Fantasy SE: This request comes from a friend of mine... She has not seen the movie, but only heard somebody describe it to her. Can anybody help my friend by identifying the story? One of the comments is: please note: identifying the movie may lead to your friend watching the movie, which may lead to your friend trying to figure out the movie, which is the opposite of helping. Is it kind of a pun? Why is helping the friend identify the movie the opposite of helping? "Identifying the movie may lead to your friend watching the movie" seems very logical to me, it is exactly what she wants, isn't it? I haven't watched this Primer, if it is important. A: Wikipedia says of this movie that Primer is of note for its extremely low budget, experimental plot structure, philosophical implications, and complex technical dialogue, which Carruth [the writer, producer, director and lead actor], a college graduate with a degree in mathematics and a former engineer, chose not to simplify for the sake of the audience. The joke is that "trying to figure out" so complex a movie may not be helpful but harmful to the questioner's friend—as we say of difficult mental challenges, it may make her head explode! :) A: I haven't watched this Primer, if it is important. It is. My comment is only funny if you already knew that the movie being identified was Primer, which it was, and knew about Primer's reputation as a very difficult movie to understand. Is it kind of a pun? It's not a pun, no. There's no strange word play going on here -- the words all mean what you think they mean. However, you do need to follow the chain of reasoning all the way to the end to "get" the joke. Why is helping the friend identify the movie the opposite of helping? "Identifying the movie may lead to your friend watching the movie" seems very logical to me, it is exactly what she wants, isn't it? Here you skipped the part where the "punchline" was: The first part - identifying the movie - is fine. That is definitely helping. The second part - watching the movie - is also fine. That's very likely what the questioner's friend wants. So, that's also helping. The third part - trying to figure out the movie - is the problem. Primer is an incredibly complicated, non-linear movie that involves time travel, and in particular, experiencing the same set of events occurring in multiple timelines and largely out of order. You don't really figure out the opening scene until very close to the end. Even then, trying to trace exactly who's doing what to whom at each point isn't even always possible. That's not counting the complex mathematics and engineering shown in the movie. The "joke" is that, showing your friend this movie may lead to them going crazy trying to figure it out, which could "hurt their brain", and that's definitely not helping. In addition, the comment was worded that way ("the opposite of helping") because of the way the question was worded: Can anybody help my friend by identifying the story? Thus playing on the somewhat counter-intuitive idea that doing what the OP has asked may have the opposite effect to what the OP is expecting.

**Scandal on the Sand** Book Three of The Barefoot Bay Billionaires trilogy **Roxanne St. Claire** **Scandal on the Sand** Copyright © 2013 South Street Publishing, LLC ISBN: 9780988373631 roxanne@roxannestclaire.com www.roxannestclaire.com www.facebook.com/roxannestclaire www.twitter.com/roxannestclaire Newsletter Sign Up This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights to reproduction of this work are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission from the copyright owner. Thank you for respecting the copyright. For permission or information on foreign, audio, or other rights, contact the author, roxanne@roxannestclaire.com Cover Art by The Killion Group, Inc. Digital Formatting by Author E.M.S. This book is dedicated to faithful reader, avid fan, and dear friend Ramona "Mona" Kekstadt who deserves her own umbrella on the sands of Barefoot Bay! **Author's Note** Welcome to Barefoot Bay! On these dreamy, sun-washed shores you'll meet heroes who'll steal your heart, heroines who'll make you stand up and cheer, and characters who become familiar and beloved. Every book set in Barefoot Bay can be read alone, but most readers want to go back for another romantic trip to paradise! **The Barefoot Bay Billionaires (200 page short novels)** SECRETS ON THE SAND (always FREE!) SEDUCTION ON THE SAND SCANDAL ON THE SAND (Note: All three Billionaires are also available in a specially priced boxed set called THE BAREFOOT BILLIONAIRES!) **The Barefoot Bay Brides (400 page novels)** BAREFOOT IN WHITE BAREFOOT IN LACE BAREFOOT IN PEARLS __ **Barefoot Bay Undercover (novels coming in 2015)** BAREFOOT BOUND (The Undercover Prequel – free to newsletter subscribers) BAREFOOT WITH A BODYGUARD BAREFOOT WITH A STRANGER BAREFOOT WITH A BAD BOY Buy links, excerpts, character descriptions and release information about these and Roxanne's extensive backlist of more than forty titles can be found at www.roxannestclaire.com or by subscribing to the newsletter: http://www.roxannestclaire.com/newsletter.html Now, kick off your shoes...and fall in love! _~ Roxanne St. Claire_ **** **Chapter One** It was her eyes. As soon as Nate caught a glimpse of the arresting color, somehow both impossibly ocean blue and bottle green, he had to talk to the woman, listening carefully as she was introduced to one of his friends. "You remember Liza Lemanski, the great unraveler of red tape." He didn't waste a second moving closer, getting a whiff of a barely-there citrus scent. "I like a woman who can unravel," he said with a wink. "Good." When she turned to him, her turquoise gaze held no hint of playfulness. "Because I've come to do a little unraveling." His friend made some kind of parting jab, reminding Nate that he was up third in the exhibition softball game that was about to start, but Nate's attention was on the beauty in front of him. "So, who's getting unraveled, blue eyes?" he asked. "You." _Nice._ "And I like a woman who doesn't mess around." "That's not what I hear." She still wasn't smiling, making him wonder if the comment was a flirt or not. "We need to talk, Mr. Ivory." That would be... _not_. Did he know her and forget those gorgeous eyes? Anything was possible, of course. With him, everything was possible. Or used to be. How long would his past mistakes haunt him? Was he about to get an earful of how he'd made promises he'd never kept or taken phone numbers he'd never used or...worse? It could always be worse. Instantly, he felt his protective privacy walls rise like titanium barriers as he automatically reached for the sunglasses in his pocket. "Sure, sure, let's talk after the game." Slipping them on, he took all the humor out of his tone and a step in the other direction. She came with him, shaking back some long dark hair to make sure he could see she meant business. "Let's talk now." "It'll only be three innings and then we're having a cocktail party at sea. We can unravel anything you want." He lifted his hand in a halfhearted wave goodbye. "I prefer _now_." Damn. He glanced around the large beachfront deck where he had just finished the press conference announcing the plan to launch a minor-league baseball team in Barefoot Bay. But no one came to his rescue. His business partners were already headed toward the sand for the softball game they'd put together to cap off the media event. "Sorry, I gotta run. I'm batting cleanup." "Yes, you are. Right this minute. With me." Pushy little thing, wasn't she? Protected by reflective lenses, he let his gaze drift over her, lingering on fine cheekbones and lush lips that hadn't yet given him a real smile. Farther down, things got even better, with generous cleavage peeking out of a V-neck T-shirt and a tiny waist and soft curves under her jeans. She couldn't be five-four and a hundred and ten soaking wet. "What's this about?" he asked, getting a sense that it _wasn't_ about seeing her soaking wet, either. "I need your signature." "Oh." Relief washed through him as he let out the breath he'd been holding since he heard the edge in her voice. "You want an autograph?" "No, I want your _signature_." He didn't like the sound of that. "Listen, sweetheart, I have to play a ball game. So, later's better." Later, he'd be surrounded by his rec softball team and some pro ballplayers, safe from any accusations, suggestions, or sob story she might fling at him. "Over here." She gestured toward an empty table that the wait staff of the Casa Blanca Resort & Spa had already cleared. Everyone had disappeared to the beach to watch the game. Which was where he suddenly wanted very much to be. "Whatever it is, make it fast." He purposely took all tease from his tone. She was hot, no doubt about it, but for some reason he smelled big trouble in this little package. She responded by scraping a chair over the wooden deck as she pulled it out... _for him_. He stayed where he was while she took the other chair and opened up a large handbag. "Okay...Liza." He rolled the name on his tongue, taking time to appreciate the sassy and sexy sound of it and wishing she were a little more of both. "I really think you're going to want to be sitting down for this," she said. "What do you have?" Irritation prickled his spine at her icy tone. Irritation and worry. He'd sworn on his life that there wouldn't be any more scandals, no more headlines, no more sexts that made their way to Perez Hilton's blog. Oh, that had been a bad week. The Colonel had _not_ been amused. She snapped a large manila envelope on the table. "Pictures?" he guessed with a mirthless snort. "How original." Every stinking blackmailing female in a nightclub had their secret cell phone shots. Which was why he'd sworn off the club scene along with the rest of his far-too-active social life. When she didn't answer, he ventured closer. "Oh, don't tell me, TMZ has offered five figures." He could only imagine what she had. "Let me guess. You've got 'Naughty Nate' bare-ass naked in Vegas or Cabo. He's got a joint in one hand and a fifth of Tito's in the other. Some dot-com billionaire's wife is grabbing his johnson, and they're about to fall into a hot tub with four more blondes." Sickening that he could describe that situation a little too clearly. Swallowing a wave of self-loathing, he watched her slide a packet of papers onto the table, along with a spiral notebook. What the— "Nate! You're on deck!" He ignored the announcement, hollered from the sand, instead dropping into the chair next to her. "So, how much?" he demanded, a sixth sense already telling him what was going down here. The question went against everything he'd been taught as a member of a family with the iconic—and ironic—last name of _Ivory_. A family that was anything but pure and had trained all members that the first check was just that...the _first_. A blackmailer never went away. But he absolutely refused to get embroiled in one more public mess and, damn it, if he had to pay to get rid of her, he would. Whatever it took to prove that he was worthy of the family name and...the chance to see that dark disapproval erased from his grandfather's eyes. "I don't want money," she finally said. Then what? Access to the Hollywood studio his older brother ran? A meeting with his other brother, the senator? Maybe insider-trading information from his cousin on Wall Street? "Everybody wants something, Liza," he said on a sigh. Especially from an Ivory. For the first time, the closest thing to a sweet expression settled on her lovely features. Her lips finally relaxed into a hint of a smile. Dark brows unfurrowed, and a slight blush of pink deepened her creamy complexion. "Yes, everybody does want something," she whispered. "And I want you to sign this document." She slid the paper toward him. "And then I will go away and you can play softball and drink in Cabo with other guys' wives and have cocktails _under_ the sea, for all I care." She flattened him with a dead-eyed look. "Sign, and I promise you will never see or hear from me again." He had to slide off his shades to read the paper, blinking at the legalese, his name typed neatly in the blanks. And... _Dylan Cassidy, age four._ "Who's Dylan?" "Your son." The words slammed like a power-punch to his temple, and for a second he actually saw stars. A _kid_? He'd been so careful. His whole freaking adult life, he'd been so damn careful about this. Very slowly, he lifted his gaze from the page to her face, digging like a dog in dirt for a shred of a recollection of this woman, a date, a night, an encounter, a damn quickie in the back room of a party. _Nothing_. "I don't even remember you," he said, the words sounding as jagged as they felt. How wasted had he been to forget this girl? "Of course you don't remember me," she said. "I've never met you." "But...this..." He tried to focus on the paper again, but a slow fire of horror sparked in his gut and rolled up to burn his chest as the words stopped dancing in front of his eyes. _Voluntary Termination of Parental Rights._ "This isn't a paternity suit?" "No, this is my guarantee that I can live in complete peace without an ax hanging over my head." What the hell? "I'm confused. Do you mind explaining what you are talking about?" "I want you to sign this so that I don't wake up some morning and find out the Ivory family is out to take Dylan away from me." "You said he...we..." He let out a puff of pure frustration. "I don't get this at all. If I'm signing away rights to your child, how can I have never met you?" "I'm not his mother." She nudged the paper closer. "Not that you care about her or have bothered to check, but his mother is dead, and I'm his legal guardian. And all you need to do is sign right there, and I'll handle the rest of the red tape. As you heard, I'm good at that." Dead? Was she saying this boy was an _orphan_? Another cascade of unfamiliar emotions squeezed some air out of his lungs, but he forced himself to breathe and get to the facts, starting with the obvious. "Who is his mother?" Her expression was total surprise, followed by a resigned shrug. "I suppose more than one woman has told you she's pregnant in your lifetime. Her name was Carrie Cassidy." Slowly, he shook his head to say he'd never heard that name in his life. "What happened to her?" Maybe that would jog his memory. "She was in a car accident a year ago and died almost instantly." She held out a pen. "Please. Make it easy on all of us." Easy? Nothing about this conversation was easy. She leaned forward and speared him with her jewel-toned gaze. "She left enough details about how you dumped her, penniless and pregnant, to fill a whole issue of the _National Enquirer_. Imagine the headline: _Nathaniel Ivory, Deadbeat Baby Daddy_." It didn't take much of an imagination to visualize how well that issue would sell. She was right about one thing—signing would be easy. Two scratches of a pen and he could go play softball and drink scotch and live his life. No scandal, no problems, no... _No way._ "I'm not signing anything." * * * Close. She was so close that every cell in Liza's body was quivering, but somehow she managed to keep her cool. Finally facing Nathaniel Ivory, after eleven months of planning for this moment, she wasn't about to let him know that her insides were mush and her heart was exploding against her ribs and she could throw up from the nerves. She couldn't let him know how much this mattered or that she was totally bluffing about the _Enquirer_ because...she wouldn't dream of dragging Dylan through mud like that. She was doing this _for_ Dylan, who was everything to her. "What's in that notebook?" Nate asked, attempting to reach for it, but she snatched it away. "No, you don't." "I knew you were lying." He spat out the accusation with disgust. "I'm not lying!" She clutched the book, holding it to her chest. "You could take this and run. I'm not letting you have it." "Run? Run where? To the beach? Who _is_ this dead woman and what fiction did she write in that book? What proof do you have? Have you ever heard of DNA testing? Do you really think I'm going to sign something without answers? You think I can't smell the stink of your scam from a mile away?" The questions came at her like bullets from an automatic rifle, each one lodging in her throat and chest and gut. "Forget the pretend mother and bogus baby, what is _your_ deal, Liza Lemanski?" Oh, she'd been so close. She saw the moment he'd wavered and nearly signed the document. Almost but not quite there...like everything in her life. And now he thought she was a con artist. Great. "My deal is that you sign this paper." _Stay on point, Liza._ _Don't let him sway you._ "Why now?" he asked. "Didn't you say she died a year ago? And this alleged son is four? What took so long to collect your cash, huh?" "I'm not..." She shook her head. "You told her you wouldn't help her, and I didn't know you were the father until she died and left me as his guardian. I'm not scared of you or your family like she was." A white lie, but she had to appear strong. "I want a clean slate as I start the formal adoption process, so, please"—she tapped the paper—"let me have that and that will be the end of this." "And you come up to me at the end of a press conference and throw this at me?" "I read in the local paper that you'd be here this morning and I..." Called in sick, grabbed the papers she already had prepared—working in the County Clerk's office did have its advantages—and put her plan into action. "Why not approach my lawyer? That's how things like this are done." "I thought it would be—" "Easier to extort money." "I don't _want_ money." She fisted her hand, punching the air. "And I know you don't want a child." "How do you know anything about me?" Holding the brightly colored spiral notebook, she picked at the half-peeled $3.99 Ross price tag on the back. "It's all in here, your name, your description, your words to her. But when you read all that, I have to be sure this book is protected. It's all I have to prove my case." "Then maybe you don't have much of a case." "Oh, I have a case. And I have a child who..." _Looks a hell of a lot like you_. "Who I want to keep, without living in fear that someone is going to try to claim him." "So you've said." He inched forward. A lock of chestnut hair fell over his brow, close to the golden-brown eyes that looked so much like...like Dylan's. "What do you _really_ want, honey, because I don't believe a word you're saying." Tiny beads of perspiration stung at her neck and temples, her cool slipping with each second that she had to face him. "I want that child. I want him safe and protected with me." Something flickered in his eyes, a flash that went by so fast she wasn't positive she'd seen it, but she knew she'd hit some kind of emotional hot button. "And you don't," she added, because what if _that_ was the hot button she'd hit? What if he wanted a child? "It says so right here." She tapped Carrie's journal, maybe a little harder than necessary. "It says a lot of things about you that I don't think you want out in public." Hollow threat, of course, but still she threw that trump card down again, hoping it would work. Surely a man with his lifestyle, money, and famously documented inability to commit didn't want a child he'd fathered almost five years ago. _Did he?_ "Hey, Nate!" Startled at the man's voice, Liza turned to see Zeke Nicholas, one of the other men who'd been involved in the announcement today, jogging across the patio deck, impatience darkening his expression. "You missed your at bat, man. Come on!" Nate held up his hand and shook his head. "'Scuse me," Zeke said to Liza as he reached the table. "But I have to steal this heartthrob for just a—" "Shut it, Zeke!" Fury sparked in Nate's eyes, but he didn't take them off Liza, making her certain his anger was not directed at his friend. Zeke froze midstep. "Everything okay here?" "We're fine," Liza said, seizing the opportunity. "I'm getting Mr. Ivory's autograph." Not that she had any real hope left that he'd sign, but maybe with his friend here, he'd buckle. It was worth a shot. "Right here, sir. And then you'll make the second inning." His nostrils flared as he took a slow breath and shook his head. "You have to play without me, Zeke." Suddenly, he stood, gathering up the papers and the envelope in one swooping motion. "Liza and I are going somewhere more private." She didn't move but glanced at Zeke, who seemed as surprised as Liza was. "So we should meet you on board the yacht later, for cocktails?" Nate shook his head. "Sorry, the party's canceled. Come on, Liza." He reached for her hand, and when she didn't take his, he closed his fingers over her wrist to gently pull her up. "I can't wait one more minute to get you alone." Zeke looked skyward. "So much for 'the new Nate.'" "Go play softball," he said through clenched teeth. "I've got something more important to deal with." With a stiff nod, Zeke left, but Liza held her ground. "I'm not going anywhere with you." "We're not talking about this here, out in the open with staff running around. Any one of them could be recording this conversation on a cell phone." She glanced at the busboy who openly stared at Nate as he slowed purposely by their table. He was right, of course. Everyone was interested in his business. "Look." He leaned closer, the low tenor of his voice practically vibrating the air between them. "I don't know you or this kid or this Carrie character from Adam. But if you think I'm putting my name on anything without details and dates, along with legal, scientific, and medical proof, you're out of your mind. Let's go." She pressed the notebook to her heart, a flimsy four-dollar shield against his billion-dollar onslaught. "I have all that. And there's no doubt of paternity." He tried to usher her away from the table. "Oh, there's plenty of doubt. I'm not stupid, and I don't make mistakes when I mess around with strangers." "You're calling her a stranger? Your lover for almost two months until you found out she was pregnant and dumped her?" His eyes widened, then he shook his head with a soft, sarcastic laugh. "I've heard some pretty creative scams, honey, really, I have. But I gotta hand it to you. This is good. Innovative, complex, and ballsy." He had the nerve to give her a salacious grin and openly check her out from head to toe, sending a completely unwanted awareness through her. "And all wrapped up in a hot little package with sex-kitten eyes and my kind of rack. It's good, kid. It's good." Sex kitten? Kid? His kind of _rack_? What had Carrie been thinking when she fell for this tool? "Nothing about this is innovative or ballsy and, honestly, the story isn't that complex. Let me spell it out for you." "Not here." "Right here, and right now." Another waiter walked by, slowing his steps, and glancing in their direction. "Okay, okay," she finally gave in, walking with him off the deck to the beach, to the opposite side of where the game was being played. When they were completely out of earshot of anyone else, she took a breath of salt-infused air, mustering up momentum for her power-plea. But her sandals sank into soft sand, giving him even more of a height advantage. She refused to cower. "Listen to me," she said. "You can deny this all you want or pretend you never heard of her or claim you're too smart to make a mistake. But the facts are simple: Carrie had your child after you made it perfectly clear you wanted no part of a baby, and she spent three years in fear that you'd find her and claim him. She lived with me since she arrived in Florida, pregnant and unemployed, and became my best friend. She was killed by a drunk driver on I-75 a year ago and left me guardianship of her child, whom I plan to legally adopt and raise. I can't do that until I know for sure and certain you will never try to take him away from me. What's _ballsy_ about that?" "Where does the money come in?" he asked with no hesitation. "I don't _want_ money," she repeated on an exasperated sigh. Was that so hard for him to understand? "I want freedom and peace of mind and my...this...Dylan." She swallowed as she said his name. "I want Dylan." Safe, close, happy. That's what she wanted. "Honestly, that's all I've ever wanted since the day a cop showed up at my door and told me Carrie was dead." He had the decency to at least feign sympathy. "Sorry, but..." He reached for the notebook, tugging it from her fingers. "Let me see that. Let me—" Something slipped out of the pages, fluttering to the sand. He stooped down and snagged it as she did the same, their heads tapping lightly. He got the picture before she did, but Liza had a second to see it was the photo of Dylan she'd slipped into the back of the journal. She reached for it, instantly protective, even of his photo. "That's—" "Me," he finished, staring at it, still crouched down. "No, I took that..." Her voice faded as she realized what he was saying. "Yeah, he looks like you. So much for an innovative and complex scam for money, huh?" Staring at the photo, he let his backside drop onto the sand to sit. "He's an Ivory," he whispered, awe and disbelief and recognition making his voice thick. She plopped down next to him. "What do you think I've been trying to tell you?" "That changes everything." Her heart plummeted. "How?" "I have to..." He struggled with the words, and her brain raced to fill in the blank. Meet him? Take him? Claim him? What did he have to do now that he didn't want to do years ago when Carrie told him she was pregnant? He exhaled. "I have to see that journal. Somewhere completely private." "We can walk on the beach." He shook his head and pointed his thumb at the baseball game behind him. "They'll come after me. Where do you live?" "Too far and..." She didn't want him there. "No, let's go inside and sit at a table or in the lobby." He gave her a funny look, slowly shaking his head as he stood, still looking at the picture. "You don't understand. I can't do that. People know me. They take pictures. They approach me. Let's just..." He gestured for her to follow him. "I have an idea." But she didn't move, looking up at him, feeling so small and helpless and frustrated and scared. "Are you going to take him from me?" she managed to ask. He reached down and took her hand, his silence almost worse than if he'd said yes. **** **Chapter Two** Blackmail would have been better, Nate thought as he maneuvered his Aston Martin through the narrow streets of Mimosa Key, headed for the harbor where he had a shot at relative privacy. She'd agreed to come along, clinging to her precious notebook. Blackmail he could handle. The family was used to that sort of thing. But a four-year-old child whose mother—with a name he'd never heard in his life—was dead and left nothing but a journal? This was big. This was problematic. This was life-changing, and not in the way he wanted his life to change. But... _He's an Ivory_. The family sure had some powerful, unstoppable genes, and Nate had spent enough time with cousins to know an Ivory when he saw an Ivory. And mistakes happen, obviously, so nothing was impossible. But no one told him! He never left anyone _penniless_ and _pregnant_. A sensation he couldn't name, didn't understand, and already hated welled up in him. A bunch of them, to be fair. Anger, fear, frustration, and disbelief coiled around his gut. What if he had _inadvertently_ done something like that? What if this claim was real? Next to him, Liza had situated herself as close to the opposite side of the sports car as she could be without actually riding outside. Silent, she stared straight ahead, gnawing her lower lip and clutching that cheap notebook like it was the crown jewels. Well, in some ways, it was. Maybe it held information that could get her a lot of money. That had to be her game, with the strategy of acting like it wasn't. Hell, at this point, he _hoped_ that was her game, despite her vehement denials. He'd far prefer a little friendly extortion to _fatherhood_. Who was this woman claiming to have had a relationship with him? He broke the silence after about five minutes. "Carrie...Cassidy, did you say?" "Her real name was Careen. Does that help?" Not a bit. "I have absolutely no recollection of meeting a woman named Carrie or Careen or Cassidy, let alone sleeping with her. Let alone spending _months_ with her. I don't spend months with my best friends, let alone...women." "So I've heard. And read." He slid her another look, trying to see past the intriguing eyes and waves of thick, dark hair to the villainess underneath. But all he saw was a great-looking woman chewing a hole in her lower lip, her arms wrapped around her chest protectively, popping some luscious cleavage out of her T-shirt. He returned his attention to the road. He would not be diving into that particular weakness of his anytime soon. "So tell me everything about this so-called Carrie." She let go of that lower lip, whipping around, eyes flashing like the Sri Lankan green sapphires that decorated the backsplash of his master bath. "So-called?" She flung the words back at him. "Carrie Cassidy was a living, breathing, lovely young woman who died far too young. And she's the mother of your child, so show some respect, for God's sake." "All right, all right." Once again, he rooted around his memory banks, many of those vaults pickled by substances he'd recently sworn off. "Where'd I meet her? When and how?" "In Key West, about five years ago." Five years ago he'd been twenty-five, living off a generous trust fund, ridiculously wild, a bona fide jet-setter who went from party to party on any continent, with any socialite, without a moment's concern about tomorrow. He did not, however, stick his dick _anywhere_ without a condom. He might be reckless, but he wasn't dumb, and he'd heard enough lectures from brothers and cousins. So, had he been in Key West that year? That was possible, even probable. He went there on a regular basis. Had he had sex with a girl there? Likely enough. But hadn't she said something about being with her for months? "So, she claims we dated for two months?" he asked as he turned into the harbor parking lot. "You were lovers," she corrected. "And there's no 'claiming' involved." Definitely a lie. "I can guarantee you if I was hanging out with someone that long term, I'd remember." She made a grunt of disgust. "What? I'm being honest." "Listen to yourself. Two months is a long-term relationship, and calling what you did with Carrie 'hanging out' sounds so..." She closed her eyes and shook her head, unable to come up with something awful enough to describe him. So he helped. "Cavalier? Uncommitted? Casual? Apathetic? Detached? I've heard them all, my dear, and every single one is true." "Have you heard 'asshole,' too?" He bit back a chuckle. "What do you think?" "I think..." She turned away and looked out the window as he slid the car into a parking spot. "I hope none of those things are hereditary." The sadness in her voice did something to his insides that he didn't like at all. He chose to ignore it. "Don't count on it," he said. "Those traits are stamped into the Ivory DNA." "Or you're raised that way." "Hard to say," he agreed. "Which is exactly why I don't want Dylan raised like that. I don't want him part of that greedy, egomaniacal, power-hungry clan." Her words shot a jolt of defensiveness up his spine. He turned off the car, flipped his belt, and reached for the door handle. Before he opened it, he flattened her with a look to underscore the warning he was about to give. "Here's the rule, Liza. I can insult my family, but no one else can." Without waiting for her response, he opened the door and stepped into the February sunshine, which was plenty warm this far south. Instantly, she popped up on the other side. "Well, here's _my_ rule: I don't want Dylan to be, what was it you called yourself? Apathetic and cavalier and isolated?" "I said _detached_. I'm not isolated." She glanced around. "Then why are we here?" "My boat is private." And isolated. He started walking toward the last slip, where he'd docked. Liza had to hurry to catch up, shouldering her bag. He reached the twenty-eight-foot cabin cruiser, and when he turned to offer her a hand, he found her eyeing the boat suspiciously. "I'd hardly call this a yacht." "Neither would I," he agreed, purposely saying no more as he helped her on board and then unlocked the doors to the lounge inside. "Can't we sit out here?" she asked, pointing to the leather sofas and captain's chairs on the deck. He shrugged, though it was more comfortable inside with the living room and bar. But he felt relatively alone and safe, since very few people knew he'd rented this slip, so he sat across from her and reached out his hand. "Give me that journal, please." She looked back at him. "Are you going to throw it overboard?" "No." "Promise?" "I swear, and my word is good." Even in the sunlight, he could see the color wash from her face, and very slowly, she took out the maroon and pink notebook. He opened the cover, and the first thing he saw was another picture, this one of a woman holding a baby. Blond, blue-eyed, with pixie-like features and a sunny smile. "That's Carrie, right after Dylan was born." She stood near him—maybe planning to dive in if he tossed the book—looking at the same picture. He studied the woman's features, angling the photo so he could get every detail. And then something clicked. Something cleared. Something snapped into place like a puzzle piece. Carrie? "No, not Carrie," he said, peering at her face, digging through a faded memory. "Her name is..." He closed his eyes, pulling the moment from the past. Yes, it was Key West. It was crazy. It was... "Bailey." Liza lowered herself to the bench to sit next to him. "No, her name is not Bailey." "Bailey Banks. I remember because she said she was named after a jewelry store, and I looked it up after...after..." After they had sex in the back of a limo. Fast, furious, forgettable sex. "I wanted to find her again, but I..." He shook his head, remembering the real frustration at the time. "No one knew her. I tried to find her. I asked around, but no one had ever seen her before. She must have crashed the party, and the number she gave me was bogus. I never heard from her again, and I wanted to." And not because she was a good time. Not at all. Bailey Banks had been camera-happy, and that had scared the shit out of Nate, even back then before Instagram and Twitter. Right before she slipped out of the limo, she laughingly waved her camera and told him she'd had a video running the whole time. _So I never forget this night with Naughty Nate!_ Her parting shot was crystal clear in his vodka-soaked memory. The next day, sober enough to be scared spitless, he went searching for the woman and her camera, but came up empty-handed on both. Eventually, he'd forgotten she existed, and no videos ever surfaced. "That's not her version of the events at all." Liza gestured to the notebook. "You better read that." "Are there more, um, pictures of her?" Or _him_? "I have a few at home. Pictures I took." "But no others? No pictures or...anything?" She shook her head, and he took another look at the photo, everything from that night coming back to him, decadent moment by decadent moment. Bailey Banks. She'd been easy, sexy, and more than a little starstruck. And, of course, he'd taken advantage of that. Self-loathing rose like bile, but he tamped it down. He was better now, different, and on the right road. _Wasn't he?_ "I remember some of her story," he said. "She told me she ran away from home at fifteen." Liza looked at him like he had two heads. "She didn't run away at fifteen. She was raised in Arizona, an only child, and close to her parents, who, as you know, because you _went to their funeral,_ died in a fire _."_ What the _hell_? "Someone is on crack," he said. "You or her. But I never went to anyone's funeral in Arizona." "Read the notebook," she finally said, pushing up from the bench. He didn't answer, but something was not right. Something was so not right with this picture. Nate leaned back and turned the page, to the picture of a boy who could have been him twenty-five years ago. "Let's see what we've got here." Other than a big, fat mess. * * * Liza knew every word in that book. Every turn of phrase, every scrawled sentence, every gut-wrenching emotion that spilled out like Carrie's tears, every time she mentioned Nathaniel Ivory's name. The account of a naïve and innocent girl's relationship with a rich, famous, heartless bastard wasn't very long, maybe fifteen handwritten pages, but it made for good reading. If you like fantasies with unhappy endings. While he read, Liza walked around the deck of the boat, trying not to watch him, and failing a few times. She heard the pages flip, quickly, so she occasionally turned to catch a glimpse of him, bent over the notebook. Any other time, any other circumstance, and she'd react like, well, like any other woman. He was easily six-one or six-two, with strong, square shoulders and the kind of chest a woman wanted to...rest against. Or explore with two hands. His face was classically handsome, with thick brows and a Roman nose, and a hint of shadow where his whiskers grew. Easy wit, a sexy smile, and dark topaz eyes all attracted her more than she wanted to admit. But attraction wasn't an option...she needed that signature and then, just as she said, she never wanted to see him again. He flipped the next page harder than the time before. Did the truth make him angry? Unless...Carrie had lied. No. Impossible. Carrie was sweet, simple, kind, loving, and guileless. The day she'd walked into Liza's cubicle at the County Clerk's office to apply for a job, the young woman nearly collapsed, whispering her secret that she was broke and expecting. And Liza had instantly liked her and soon loved her like the sister she never had. In the following three and a half years, Carrie had never once revealed who Dylan's father was, except to say his family was powerful enough to scare her. But after she died, Liza found the notebook and finally understood just how powerful that family was. Her friend's secrecy and fears made complete sense. According to what she wrote, Carrie worried that Nate would find her and change his mind about the baby. The journal filled in some holes and confirmed the hints that Carrie had dropped all along. _Right_? Or had Carrie made the whole thing up? "I don't know what to believe anymore," Liza whispered to herself as she stepped into the lounge area of the boat. Which was as visually stunning as the golden-eyed god who owned it. Every piece of furniture and decor was a different shade of cream, covered in leather, suede, or marble, with masculine touches of gleaming teak. No surprise, money oozed from every corner, a testament to the famous Ivory family fortune. He seemed to think money was all she wanted. Well, it would be nice if he wanted to throw a thousand into a college fund for Dylan, sure. But what she wanted—freedom from worry—was priceless. "I read it." She turned to find him standing in the glass sliders that separated the deck from the lounge, an unreadable emotion etched on his strong cheekbones and square jaw. Unless _ice cold_ was an emotion, then she could read it just fine. "This is complete and utter fiction. You know that, don't you? Pure fabrication." Right now, she didn't know anything. "You said you recognized her when you saw her picture. You met in Key West. You...you had...you slept with her, didn't you?" He huffed a soft breath and dropped onto one of the creamy sofas, tossing the notebook next to him. Liza stayed standing. "Here's what's true," he said. "And I'm happy to swear on a stack of Bibles or in a court of law or whatever you want me to do that will make this legit." What she wanted to "make this legit" was for him to sign and disappear forever. Both possibilities were becoming more remote with each passing minute. "Just be honest," she said. "And tell me your side of the story." He nodded a few times, gathering his thoughts. "If your Carrie and this girl I recognize as Bailey are really the same person?" With his left hand, he flipped the cover of the book, opening to her picture. "I think they are. So, then about three paragraphs of this is true. I met her at a party, exactly as it says here, in the driveway of a beach house a friend of mine owns. She thought I was the valet, and I let her think that for a few minutes. It was funny, we flirted, exactly like she said. A few minutes later, she saw me inside and we had a good laugh, exactly like she said. We had a few drinks and talked, exactly like she said." "She called it love at first sight." He closed his eyes. "I would categorize it as mutual attraction that led to lust. Nothing remotely like love took place." Assuming a man like him even knew what love was. "And you took her home and were with her when she got the call about her parents that night, right?" Very slowly, he shook his head. "That's not what happened." She waited, crossing her arms and leaning against the bar. "I did take her home. At least, I had my limo drop her off after we..." He swallowed, hard, then met Liza's gaze. "We, uh, got intimate in the back of the limo." She lifted a brow. "Intimate?" "We had sex," he said bluntly. "Wholly consensual, lightning-fast, and utterly meaningless sex." Each word was like a hammer striking a nail into her heart. Was that how Dylan was conceived? That certainly wasn't Carrie's story. "I dropped her off at an apartment building, but she wouldn't even let me walk her to the door," he continued. "She gave me her number and disappeared." A new kind of pain etched across his handsome features. "I swear to God I tried to find her, and it was like she was vapor. Bogus number, didn't live in that apartment, didn't know anyone at the party. She was gone." He cleared his throat and continued. "So that part she wrote about the phone call from the fire department in Tucson? Fiction. At least, it wasn't _me_ with her that night, holding her, arranging for a private plane to get her home. Never happened." Of all the possible responses she'd played out in her mind, Liza never expected this. Never expected the journal to be a half-truth. "The trip to France?" she asked. "The vacation with your family? The two weeks at your place in Hawaii? The hot-air balloon ride when you said you loved her?" With each question, his head slowly moved from side to side. "Never happened." Her legs couldn't hold her anymore, so Liza finally eased into the closest chair, sinking into the buttery leather with a barely audible sigh. "Are you saying that whole whirlwind affair was a...lie?" "That account of our relationship in that notebook is a story, a fabrication, a complete work of fiction," he said carefully. "Yes, I think I know this woman and, yes, we had sex. With a condom," he added. "What did she tell you?" "She never..." She cleared her throat, having a feeling this wasn't going to get her the signature she needed and wanted. "She never actually told me your name." It was his turn to stare in disbelief. "So you're basing this entire thing on some teenager's attempt at a bad romance novel? A woman who has, as far as we know, at least two names." "She wasn't a teenager." But she wasn't much more than that. "I saw her legal document, and I know her name was Careen Cassidy. And Dylan looks like you." He lifted a shoulder and nodded. "I'll give you that. But it could be a coincidence." "And you did have sex with her." "I had sex with a girl who had a different name and looks a little like that one in the picture." He leaned forward. "How well do you know this Carrie person?" Ire shot through her. _This Carrie person_ had been dear to her. "Well. Very well. We lived together, and I was in the hospital room when Dylan was born, and I've helped raise him." "How did you meet her?" "She applied for a job at the County Clerk's office when I worked in personnel, and we hit it off in the interview." Carrie's sob story had ripped Liza's heart out, and she'd invited the poor girl to stay with her until she found an apartment...and she'd never left. "We became really good friends and, well, she needed help and—" "But not such good friends that she'd tell you who fathered the baby?" The truth jabbed at her. "She told me you—he—had made it clear you didn't want anything to do with the baby, and she'd rather forget about you." His eyes flashed. "I never told anyone anything like that, because we never had another conversation after I dropped her off at an apartment complex that night," he insisted, his voice rising with impatience. "She made it all up." Was that possible? Inside, way down low in her belly, Liza grew cold and afraid. Had she been such a pushover that Carrie lied from day one? She'd always had a soft spot for strays, and she had the four cats to prove it. But everyone who met Carrie loved her, even Liza's mother, who didn't usually love anyone if they didn't have access to the right country club. "What about the notebook?" he asked. "Where did it come from?" "I found it hidden in her belongings after she died. When I read it, I realized just how rich and powerful a family she'd meant when I saw the name Ivory." "And it didn't occur to you that this whole story was a product of her imagination?" She shook her head, feeling incredibly vulnerable and foolish. "What occurred to me was that, if I could find you, I could get you to sign a TPR, er, a Termination of Parental Rights waiver, which is what I had urged her to do all along. I work with legal documents every day. I know they carry tremendous weight in court, and if you don't have them in order, it could come back to haunt you." He didn't answer for a moment, his gaze on the picture that faced up. "Was she drunk?" Liza blinked at him, the question throwing her. "Excuse me?" "When she died. You said it was an accident on the highway. Was she drunk?" She almost laughed. "I never saw Carrie drink anything stronger than iced tea. She was insanely healthy and, for your information, she never even went on a date in the time we were roommates. I tried to fix her up with a friend once, and she refused. She said Dylan was her only man." That indiscernible flicker of emotion passed over his face again. He looked down, bracing his elbows on his knees to rest his chin on tight fists. "And what about Dylan?" Her heart rate rose at the question. The tenderness in the tone scared her. "What about him?" "How is he? His mom is dead and, well, he's an orphan." "Not technically, since I—" "No, I guess if he has a father, he's not an orphan." She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry and tasted metallic. Fear. She was tasting real, live terror that she could lose Dylan. Why in the hell hadn't she left well enough alone? This was exactly what Carrie feared. He'd have never come after Dylan, and now... "How is he?" he asked again. "What do you mean? He's..." Perfect. Adorable. Sweet as candy and as good as gold. But something in her kept her from sharing. What if Nate fell in love with Dylan, too? And how could he not? Everyone fell in love with Dylan at first sight. "He's fine." "Is he well-adjusted? Healthy? Normal? Smart? Going to school? Reading yet?" She would have laughed at how much like a dad he sounded except...nothing about that was funny. He _was_ Dylan's dad and, as such, had some rights. Not legal guardianship. She did have that. But, still, he had a right to know about his son. She nodded. "Very healthy, very well-adjusted, crazy smart, and slightly temperamental. He's only four, so he doesn't read very many words yet, but he can spell." She laughed softly. "Oh, boy, he likes to spell." She smiled, thinking of the light in his eyes when she handed him a new pack of Matchbox cars last night. "He loves cars. Anything with wheels, actually." "I was that way, too." "Well, he's nothing like you." The words popped out, unfiltered, earning her a dark look. "I mean, well—" "You don't know me." Shrugging, she chose her words carefully. "In trying to find you and decide what to do about this situation, I read a lot about you, so—" "Like I said, you don't _know_ me." "I know what your lifestyle is. I know you live on boats and have a dozen houses and go to parties in Monte Carlo and don't have a real job." "I wouldn't call sitting on four _Fortune_ 500 corporate boards, managing two charitable foundations, and handling a few billion dollars' worth of investments 'unemployed.'" "I wouldn't call your lifestyle stable." He made a guttural sound of disgust, pushing himself to a stand so he loomed over her. "A lifestyle is not a person. A lifestyle is a word the media made up. A lifestyle—" He turned and paced across the room, stopping to put his hands on the bar as if he actually needed support. "I am so sick of this conversation." She drew back in surprise. "Excuse me?" "Not with you. But, I've had it with...others." Keeping his back to her and his face down, he let his shoulders rise and fall with a silent sigh. "When can I meet him?" "Why... _what_?" Her heart faltered. "Meet Dylan? You can't _meet_ him." Very slowly, he turned, and she nearly startled from the ragged emotion on his face. She couldn't quite decipher what he was feeling, but it was powerful and personal. "I have every right to meet this child you claim is my son." "For what reason?" He gave her a look of disbelief. "To determine if he's really mine." "No, no, that's not necessary." He narrowed his eyes and moved imperceptibly closer. "Just what are you hiding, Liza Lemanski?" "Nothing! I'm not hiding anything. Look." Fighting a little wave of panic, she grabbed the bag she'd dropped on the table, flipping it open. "You don't have to meet him." If he met Dylan, he'd love Dylan. It was impossible not to. And then...he'd want to take Dylan. Just as Carrie feared. "I have this. This is..." Her fingers closed around the small plastic box that she'd received from the lab. "This swab is a sample of his DNA. And these papers verify it's his, from my doctor. You can have it tested and compared to yours." She put the box and a white envelope on the table. "Why would I do that?" "So you know I'm not lying." "And then can I meet him?" She looked up at him, swallowing hard, her whole body feeling like she was trying to turn a tide, and she'd never even expected this particular tsunami. "I really never thought you'd have any interest in meeting him," she said. "Well, I do. Right now, as a matter of fact." No, no, she would not let that happen. She gestured toward the DNA. "Just do the test and then..." _Sign the papers_. "Look, Nate, you don't want a child and you know it. How could you raise him? How would you guide him in life? When would you spend time with him? He needs parenting and I'm...I'm not his mother, but I love him dearly and deeply and the...the 'lifestyle' I'm giving him is normal, safe, and sane. I know I don't have a lot of money, but I give him love and attention and..." Damn it, her voice cracked. "Please don't use your family power to take my little boy." She stood up, driven by the need to plead and beg. Whatever it took to keep Dylan. "Please?" For what seemed like an eternity, he didn't answer. But his gaze slipped to the box and swab she'd left on the table. "I'll think about it." Right now, that was all she could ask. **** **Chapter Three** After a sleepless night, Nate texted Elliott Becker and they made plans to meet at the resort for an early run on the beach. When Nate jogged onto the hard-packed sand, he found Becker stretching, along with Zeke Nicholas, and neither one of them looked too happy with him. "What the hell happened to you yesterday?" Zeke demanded. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you," he said, though he'd already decided to confide in his friends. They were trustworthy and smart, plus they knew his family situation well enough to appreciate the magnitude of the problem. "Some hot chick shows up and you disappear," Zeke said. "Like you two haven't been MIA since you met Mandy and Frankie," Nate shot back, easing into a slow stretch to prepare for their run. "We didn't ditch the game to get laid." Becker shook out his legs and started a slow jog. If only he had, Nate thought. That would be so much easier to explain and so much more in character. Except, he wasn't that guy anymore. "So who is this girl, Nate?" Zeke asked. "I saw her talking to Frankie at the end of the press conference, but no one else knew her." Becker elbowed him. "Bet Nate knows her now. What bed did you leave her in this morning?" "She's at home with"— _my son—_ "a little boy." Zeke threw him a surprised look. "She has a kid?" "Long story." And Nate wasn't ready to delve into it all yet. Instead, he let his sneakers hit the sand near the water and picked up the pace. With his eye on the horizon, he let the morning sun warm his muscles. "Better watch your step, Mr. Ivory," Becker said, slowing down to get next to Nate. "Zeke and I were just saying there's something dangerous to bachelors in the air down here." Yeah, _fatherhood_. That was dangerous to bachelors. "Looks like it, the way you two fell like a couple of horny high schoolers," Nate shot back. Unaffected, Becker and Zeke shared a grin, then looked at Nate like he was the one who'd done something stupid. In a moment, the three of them fell silent long enough to pick up the pace, run to the north end of the bay, turn around and get serious. "Loser buys breakfast," Zeke said. "Screw that," Becker said. "Loser buys the restaurant." Zeke and Nate cracked up, but Becker didn't wait to hear them laugh at his joke, kicking sand as he sprinted away. Zeke swore under his breath and did the same thing, leaving Nate twenty feet behind them both in less than a few seconds. Automatically, he took off, the wind whistling in his ears. But he didn't have it today, watching both of them get way ahead. Thoughts of his fitful night before rose up and wrecked his speed like they'd wrecked his sleep. Damn, he had to solve this problem or it would wreck his work, too. And he had too much riding on this new stadium project his friends had entrusted him to run to risk having something like this steal his attention. Still, did he have a son? What did that mean to his life? Could he walk away from that boy? Should he? And, of course, the eternal question: What would the Colonel do? As if there could be a question. Nothing, absolutely nothing, mattered more to the Colonel than family. They were, as the old veteran liked to say, his secret weapon in the war of life. Nate knew how his grandfather would act at the possibility of the Ivory DNA floating in anyone's bloodstream: _Claim that child. He's one of ours_. But how could he? Nate had just begun to get his act together, and, now...this. Nate had jumped on the chance to own and manage a minor-league team, and not just because no one else in the Ivory dynasty had their hands in professional baseball yet. He had to prove himself to his grandfather, and this was his best, and last, chance. And now, another potential scandal that would be eaten up by the media could devour his shot at the respectability he knew the Colonel wanted to see. Unless Nate walked away quietly...but would that move make the Colonel proud? A man who put family above everything else? Lost in thought, he barely heard Zeke call to him. When Nate caught up with his friends, Becker was bent over, hands on his knees, a little winded but victorious. He looked up and caught his breath with a grin. "Must have been quite a night for you, Ivory. I've never seen you lose a race." "Or anything," Zeke added, eyeing him carefully. "What's wrong?" "What's _right_ is a better question. Let's eat, and I'll tell you." A half hour later, at their favorite veranda table overlooking the beach, the three of them were still virtually alone in the beach deck of the resort restaurant. Comfortable that they had privacy, Nate told them everything and answered the questions he could. "I hate to say this, especially because Frankie knows this woman, but I think it's a scam," Becker said, leaning back on the chair's back legs and crossing his arms. "She smells cash." "But the kid looks like you?" Zeke asked. "Are you sure?" "Freakishly," Nate confirmed. "And I definitely remember meeting the girl whose picture Liza showed me. And I happened to check the ship log last night, and sure enough, we were docked in Key West in April five years ago." Zeke leaned forward. "If you got her pregnant in April, she'd have had a baby in January." "Of course Einstein knows that," Becker joked. Zeke ignored it, focused on Nate, always ready to use logic and math to solve a problem. "When's this kid's birthday?" "I don't know, but he's four." "He would have had to have turned four last month if you have any possibility of being the father. Find out his birthday, and if the math works, get a test and..." "And then start writing big checks," Becker said. "I told you she doesn't want money." Becker snorted. "Hey, Frankie didn't want your multimillion-dollar offer for her land," Nate shot back, not sure why he felt the need to defend Liza, but he did. "Because she's a Niner in her own right," Becker replied, referring not only to the name of their rec softball team in New York, but also the qualification to be on it: nine zeroes in each player's net worth. "Your little friend is a secretary in the County Clerk's office living with a kid whose alleged 'mother' is dead." He air-quoted to make his point, leaning closer as he gathered steam. "And she has some notebook with a fake story in it—" "The beginning was true enough." Becker waved that off. "Maybe she _was_ friends with some chick you nailed five years ago, and that girl died and Liza dreamed up this whole thing. She has access to all this legal shit. She's probably figured out a con. Hey, it happens. It happened to Frankie's grandfather." Nate had to nod. His family name was a golden ticket to some people who tried to swindle money. "So, what's your plan?" Zeke asked. "How did you leave it?" "She gave me the kid's DNA for testing." Becker looked skyward. "It's probably _your_ DNA, and it will 'mysteriously' match." "How the hell would she get my DNA?" "With you? It's probably on sale on the Internet." Nate fried him with a look. "You're an idiot, you know that?" "Sorry, but this time, I'm thinking you're the idiot, Ivory. Sic some lawyers on her and make her go away." Nate shook his head. "If my family—especially my grandfather—got wind of a paternity issue? Shit. Nothing would give him more pleasure than to add to his troops, as he likes to refer to us." Zeke shrugged. "So a kid might be just the ticket to showing Grandpa just how legit you can be, right?" "I thought of that," Nate admitted. "But how shitty a move would that be, on every level?" Becker's shoulders moved in a silent chuckle. "What's so funny?" Nate demanded. "You with a kid. If you don't think that's funny, then—" "Shut the hell up." Zeke held up a peacemaking hand. "Listen, you need a plan of attack," he said. "A strategy to get through this." "And a lawyer," Becker added. "You're right," he agreed, more with Zeke than Becker. "First up, I have to find out more about this Carrie chick. I did try to find her after that night but only because she..." He shook his head, hating the admission. "Had a video camera." Becker moaned, dropping his head into his hand in disgust. "A _sex tape_ , Ivory? That'll really help us get more investors for this project." "It's five years old and quite possibly—hopefully—destroyed by now. But at the time, I wanted to get it back, but I couldn't find her or anyone who knew her. Now I have more information." "So cruise down to Key West and have a look around," Becker said. "And take your new friend with you. Keep your enemies close, I always say." Nate nodded. The suggestion—even though it was Becker's—made a lot of sense. "And put her on the spot, test her a little," Zeke suggested. "Find out what she's made of and if she'd pull a stunt like this. She says she doesn't want money, so what does she want?" "I'll tell you what you should do," Becker said, leaning forward as if an idea had grabbed hold of him. "Offer her a job." "What?" the other two men asked in unison. "No, I'm serious. That woman is plugged into the whole county system, and she can find her way around permits and waivers like no one else—she proved that with Frankie's land." Frankie _had_ introduced Liza as "the great unraveler of red tape." "We do need someone on staff who can handle that," he agreed, considering the idea. "But why would she want a job with me? She wants me to sign some form and disappear." "Just offer the job," Becker said. "Make her an offer no normal County Clerk worker could refuse. Then you'll see if she's really serious about 'making a good life' for this kid." "Damn, Becker, you took smart pills," Nate joked. The other man gave a typically smart-ass Elliott Becker grin. "It's Frankie. She brings out a whole new me." "Mandy does the same thing with me," Zeke admitted. Nate looked skyward. "You guys are making me sick." They just laughed, but then Zeke grew serious. "What about the DNA test?" he asked. "You going to do it?" "I don't know." Truth was...the truth scared him. Absolute confirmation that he had a kid? "I have to figure it all out." "Not at the expense of our stadium and team, I hope," Becker said. "Make sure your focus is where it should be: on the Barefoot Bay Bucks. We have a lot riding on this project, and we really need to rally some more investors." "I know. I'll figure it all out." "You will," Zeke said as they all stood to end breakfast. "Don't forget to—" Something bright green whizzed by and slammed into Zeke's chest, shutting them all up as a Frisbee clattered to the table. They reacted with surprised laughs and turned at the sound of loud, fast footsteps. Two sets, in fact, both quite small. Two children approached, a tiny blond girl with her hand over her mouth and a matching tow-headed boy. "Sorry," he said. "My sister..." He shook his head. "She didn't mean it. We're going to the beach, and she got excited." He had to have been just about the same age as Dylan, Nate thought. "No problem, kiddo." Nate picked up the Frisbee and easily lobbed it to the boy, getting a grin when he clapped his hands over it and caught it. "Emma! Edward!" A tall man in a white chef's coat came marching into the sunshine, a scowl on his face. "Don't bother the customers, you two. So sorry, gentlemen." "No worries," Nate said. "We were just headed out." He took a step closer, sizing up the two of them. "Twins?" he asked. "I'm older by a minute," Edward said, making them all laugh. The chef extended his hand to Nate. "I'm Chef Ian Browning, by the way. I know Mr. Nicholas and Mr. Becker, but don't believe we've met." "Nathaniel Ivory." He wasn't used to introducing himself, since most people recognized him, but this man was obviously British and probably didn't read the tabloids much. "Cute kids," he added. "Thanks." He reached the kids and put protective and proud hands on their shoulders. For a flash of an instant, Nate imagined what that would feel like. "The children's program doesn't start until nine, and my wife had to go over to the mainland," the chef said. "So, you're with the new baseball business, too? Everyone in my kitchen is talking about—Edward!" The boy went zooming out of his father's grasp, followed by his sister. "We're going to the beach!" she called out, her shyness gone as the two tore down the stairs to the sand. "Wait!" The chef darted after them, throwing the men an exasperated smile as he chased his kids. "Got your hands full, huh?" Nate asked as the man zipped by. "And another on the way, mate." He disappeared onto the sand, leaving the three of them sharing a look. "You ready for that?" Zeke asked wryly. "Hell no." "So be careful what you wish for... _mate_." Becker added the chef's English accent and grinned at Nate. "You just might find it." **** **Chapter Four** "Car, Aunt Liza? Now? N-O-W C-A-R!" Liza tucked the dishtowel on the oven handle and smiled down at Dylan, her heart doing a little flip when she looked into his eyes—the very shade of tawny oak that had been haunting her every thought since the day before. Nate and Dylan did look so much alike. That fact was even more undeniable now that she'd seen Nate Ivory in person. Twenty-five years apart in age, but something in the eyes, the jaw, even the expression...had to be hereditary and not coincidence. "Please?" Dylan dragged the word out, then frowned, no doubt wondering whether he could spell that one. "Now?" "Yes. N-O-W." She nudged him to the kitchen door with one hand on his back, pausing at the dining room to call out, "Mom, I'm going to be in the driveway with Dylan!" The announcement was a courtesy, but it didn't take away the fact that Liza still reported to her mom—thanks to the circumstances of her life—and she didn't like it. After they unplugged the charger and maneuvered the bright red Power Wheels car into the driveway, Liza situated herself on the lawn where she could have an unobstructed view of the driveway, the street, and Dylan in his new toy. "Do not go close to the street, Dylan," she warned as he climbed behind the wheel, his face bright in anticipation. Mom had gotten him the Lightning McQueen electric car this past Christmas, and he lived for the chance to drive it, back and forth, in the semicircle driveway. That chance was usually the weekends, when Liza wasn't working. Mom watched him a few days, when she didn't have club meetings, lunches, tennis, or golf. Mostly, he was in day care, so Liza tried to spend every minute with him on the weekends. "Here I go!" He gave it a little gas and started his circuit, waving each time he passed her. She waved back, then leaned on her hands to look around the pristine neighborhood. Trimmed hibiscus, manicured emerald lawns, and rows of Queen palms lined the grid of streets that made up a painfully planned community full of pink and beige houses, all topped with the same barrel tile roof. The sound of a car engine—a real one—made her open her eyes to check how close Dylan was to the street. Very. "Careful," she called, though he was usually good about minding. He stopped his little car suddenly, at the curb, and stood slowly. "C-A-R!" "Yes, it's a car." She squinted into the sunshine, seeing a silver vehicle slowing as it approached her house. That was unusual in Blue Landing. Most of the retirees and snowbirds who populated the expensive development didn't even remember what it was like to have kids playing in the street. Living here was a great financial solution, and having her mother as a back-up for Dylan was convenient, but it sure wasn't the kid-friendly neighborhood she wanted. Still, this driver was far more aware than most, slowing at her driveway. "Wow!" Dylan slowly climbed out of his car, staring at the vehicle like it was a UFO. It was...different. No, it was the sleek, space-age car she'd ridden in yesterday to the harbor. There couldn't be two cars that looked as if they'd been dipped in platinum and cost a million bucks. Damn it all. _He'd found her_. Worse, he'd found Dylan, who walked toward the car parked in front of her mailbox. Nate emerged like a god stepping out of his chariot, his hair streaked bronze in the sunlight, a loose white linen shirt accentuating his size and breadth. Liza stood as dumbstruck as Dylan, her heart lodged firmly in her throat, denying her any chance to talk or breathe or demand to know what the hell he was doing here. But why bother asking that? She knew. In two steps, she was behind Dylan, reaching a protective hand for his shoulder, but he shot away, running to the car. "Car! Car! C-A-R." A slow smile spread across Nate's face as he slipped off his sunglasses to get a better look. "You like it?" he asked Dylan. "So pretty!" Nate laughed, a low rumble of amusement that reached Liza's ears like a screaming alarm. He was already in love with Dylan, who, oblivious to any drama about to unfold, ran to the car and slapped his two hands on the curved spoiler in the back with a loud thwack. "Wow!" Finally, Nate looked over to Liza, who had managed to swallow, find a shred of composure, and get to the end of the driveway. "Hey," he said, the single word so simple and sexy and intrusive and intimate, she almost reeled. Hey. _Hey_? Like it was no big deal that he'd hunted her down and come to her home and invaded her world _uninvited_? "What are you doing here?" "Aunt Liza!" Dylan answered for him. "Look!" "I am looking," she said, her gaze flat on the car's owner and not the object of Dylan's fascination. "How did you find me?" "Your address was on the paperwork you left." He turned his attention to Dylan, while Liza mentally kicked herself for the oversight. "You like cars, son?" he asked. _Son_? Already? She must have choked a little, because Dylan turned to look at her, his eyes bright and his smile loopy. "I love cars," he said. So not fair. She'd told him that already. So, of course, he shows up in his one-of-a-kind classic something that someone with a Y chromosome could smell as special from a mile away. "Well, maybe you can drive this one," Nate said to him. This time, she choked loud and hard and purposefully. "Excuse me," she said, lifting her chin and refusing to be the least bit distracted or deterred by his size and looks and overall hunkiness. "He's four and he can't drive." "I see that." He angled his head. "But he likes cars." Didn't he see that kind of ridiculous logic was why she was trying to keep Dylan from him? What else would he let a child do? "If you suggest my little boy drive a...whatever that is—" "Aston Martin. I usually have one shipped to me when I'm staying somewhere more than a few weeks." She closed her eyes, just letting that simple statement sum up everything about Nate Ivory. He had an Aston Martin shipped to him when he stayed somewhere. "How is that even normal?" He laughed at the question and jutted his chin to Dylan, who was prancing around the car, leaving smear prints on every window as he tried to see in. "He thinks it's normal. Will you, uh, introduce us?" She considered refusing the request. She could. She was Dylan's legal guardian and, as such, she could determine who even talked to him, but... No, she wasn't that scared of Nate Ivory. And not that cruel. Plus, Dylan would have a full-out meltdown if that car suddenly disappeared. "Dylan, honey, come here." He slowly lifted his little face from the driver's window, where he'd been pressing so hard he probably had licked the glass by now. "Come and meet Mr. Ivory." Nate shot her a look. "You can call me Nate," he corrected as Dylan came forward. Nate crouched down to his size. "If you give me knuckles." He held out his fist, and Dylan knew exactly what to do. The fist-bump came with that sweet smile and childish giggle. "Who are you?" And that pure and honest curiosity. "I'm..." He struggled with the word, and every cell in Liza's body seized up in fear of what he'd say next. She couldn't talk or jump in or even move as time stood still and she waited for... _your father_. "I'm a friend of your Aunt Liza's." She let out an audible breath, and he stood slowly, his expression saying what his mouth wasn't. _Don't worry_. But she was worried. How could she not? "So you just, what, decided to cruise into Blue Landing for fun today?" He looked around. "I could tell you're conservative, Liza, but I wouldn't have put you quite in the middle of Disney World." "We're living with my mother right now," she said. "We've been staying here for a year." Did she have to explain her personal situation to him? Well, he was Dylan's father. "My mom lived alone in this big house and so, well, you know what they say." "There's no place like home with your mother?" he suggested with a teasing smile. "It takes a village to raise a kid." He glanced around. "Pretty sedate village." Irritation skittered as a need to defend the little development rose, but he was right. "It's also safe, secure, and comes with a backup babysitter who loves Dylan almost as much as I do." "Car! Car! C-A-R!" Dylan had returned to his inspection, bored by the adults talking. "I told you he's kind of obsessed with spelling." Liza tried to shift her attention to the little boy, but it was hard to stop looking at Nate. He looked different today, somehow. Calmer and more in control—but then, he'd ambushed her this time instead of the other way around. "That's cute," he said, stepping closer to the car. "Dwive!" Dylan insisted. So Dylan had heard Nate suggest that. "Why would you plant that idea in his head?" she asked. "Because it's what I'd want to do." Dylan kept banging on the window and jumping up and down, until Nate opened the door. Little legs and arms scrambled right in, just as Mom came out of the front door. "Liza?" "Brace yourself," she whispered to Nate. "My mother is going to gush over you." "Does she know about...Carrie and me?" The question threw her a little. She hadn't expected him to care about things like that, or worry about how this affected her life in any way. A little knot of appreciation tightened in her chest. "Nothing. You're going to be a total surprise. And I have to warn you, my mother has two weaknesses—she can't keep a secret, and she's a serial social climber. She'll tell everyone at the country club, on Facebook, and possibly stop by the local news stations to tell them that you were here. So, if she knows _why_..." She shook her head. "I'm not responsible for the ensuing scandal." He put a light hand on her shoulder. "I got this." Instantly, a smile broke across his face as he turned to her mother. "Mrs. Lemanski?" He's _got_ this? He got her name wrong, for one thing. She hadn't been Mrs. Lemanski for...three husbands. But the wrong name didn't make Mom stumble on her Manolos. The face she was staring at did. "Are you..." She put her hand on her chest, red nails gleaming. "Oh my God, are you..." "Nathaniel Ivory." Color rose from her heavy gold chain necklace right up to her perfectly styled frosted hair, her eyes popping. "As I live and breathe." She tapped her chest as though she couldn't do either one at the moment. "What on earth...oh, you are even better looking in real life! Gorgeous! Isn't he, Liza?" "Stunning," she agreed dryly, getting a quick look from Nate. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand, and Mom practically lunged at it with both of hers, pumping mightily. "Don't tell me you're moving into Blue Landing!" Liza snorted. That'd be the day. He probably had servants' quarters nicer than this. "I'm just here to see your daughter," he said. "I guess she didn't tell you we met at the press conference in Barefoot Bay yesterday." "Oh, I read about that baseball team and..." Her mother finally took her eyes off Nate long enough to finally focus on Liza. "I thought you were at work. What were you doing there?" _Tracking down Dylan's biological father_. "Uh, I—" "Job hunting," Nate supplied. "And I'm here to deliver the good news. You're hired." She just stared at him, utterly speechless. "For what?" her mother asked. "Yeah, for what?" Liza repeated. He looked at her like she knew exactly what for. "My administrative assistant. We were so impressed with how you helped Frankie Cardinale navigate all that county red tape, we decided unanimously to offer you a job." She tried—she really did—to say something, but not a word would come out. _I got this_ meant offering her a job? "Are you out of your mind?" she asked under her breath. But her mother heard. "Are _you_?" she demanded of Liza. "This is the best news in...well, forever! You say every day how miserable you are at the County Clerk's office and, Liza..." Her eyes darted to Nate, stealing a glance at his body and lingering over...all of it. "I mean, _Liza_. Why would you not accept?" "Because..." It was insanity. Working for him? Was this his way of staying around Dylan? "I don't know the pay or benefits or—" "Name your price," Nate said. "We'll triple your current salary, cover health care and—" Dylan honked the horn lightly, making Nate smile. "And there's a children's program at the resort where I'm setting up the office until we get further along on the site. Dylan can be in it at our expense." "Liza!" Her mom practically squealed. "It's an answer to your prayers!" "I wasn't praying for another job." Except that she kind of was. What she wasn't praying for was any reason to be near Nate Ivory. In fact, the opposite was far, far preferable. "What do you say?" he asked. Before she answered, Dylan laid on the horn with all he had, the deafening blare echoing over the quiet neighborhood. Liza leaped at the excuse, rushing to the driver's door to stop the noise. "Dylan!" In the seat, his eyes were wild as he pressed the steering wheel with all his might. "Stop!" she cried, lifting his hand for blessed silence. "Sorry, Nate." She tried to extricate Dylan from the seat, but his little hands clamped on the steering wheel, and he started kicking wildly, his sneakers slamming into the bottom of the dashboard, leaving tiny black scuffs on the cream-colored leather. "Dylan, stop that!" "I want to dwive!" Smack, smack, scuff, scuff. "Dylan, please." " _Dwiiiiiive_!" He wailed, his voice rising exponentially from upset to temper tantrum. Full-blown meltdown was about fifteen seconds away. Actually, it might have already arrived. She bit her lip, not sure whether to laugh or reprimand. _Welcome to fatherhood, Nate Ivory. How would this sound in Beverly Hills?_ Nate was next to her before she realized what was happening, large, strong hands reaching into the car to easily calm the kicking. "Take it easy, bud." Dylan kicked harder. "You can drive it." And then he stopped. Liza whipped around to look at him, her breath taken away by how close he was, their shoulders touching. "Don't encourage him. He'll just be more disappointed. He's only four, Nate." "I know, and such a big guy." He gave Dylan's legs a squeeze. "When's your birthday, bud?" "Januawy twenty-fuhst!" He started kicking again, like it was his birthday all over again. Nate seemed to pale for a split second—no doubt, the car had never been treated like this—but then he took control of the wild legs again, a catch in his voice. "Not if you kick." Dylan stopped instantly. Because kids were traitors like that. "And only if Aunt Liza says yes," Nate added. "Aunt Liza, pleeeeease!" "I don't...no. You can't take him in this car." "I want to dwive!" Dylan screamed again. Nate covered the boy's legs again. "In a minute—" "No." Liza reached in and firmly took hold of Dylan, shouldering Nate out of the way. "Just no." He wasn't going to blow in here and do this. "You can't give a child everything he wants, and you can't make promises you can't keep." With a tight grip, she got Dylan out of the seat. "You can't let him drive." Her voice rose as she wrestled with a writhing, squirming, unhappy forty-two pounds of wild child. "And you can't _..._ " _Take him away from me._ Which was really at the bottom of the low-grade panic rising in her chest. Dylan kicked her thigh so hard she almost buckled. "Liza." The reprimand and surprise in her mother's voice were loud and clear. Instantly, she was there, trying to wrest Dylan from her arms. "What's gotten into you?" "Me? What about—" "I want to _dwiiiiiive_!" Sweat prickled under her arms, and all Liza's muscles bunched as she tried to still Dylan, looking over his shoulder to meet Nate's amused gaze. "You think this is funny?" she asked him. "I think you're overreacting. Put him down, and let's all take a ride." "There are two seats, Nate." "Go, go." Her mother practically pushed her from behind. "I'll stay here, and you three go for a little zip around the neighborhood. You can talk about your new job. What are the hours?" she asked. Oh, _Lord_. "She can set her own." He slipped behind the wheel, touching something that made the seat shift way back, at least ten inches from the steering wheel. He reached out for Dylan. "Let's take a drive, tiger." Dylan practically flew out of Liza's arms. "I dwive! I dwive!" "Yep, you can drive." With an easy movement, Nate took Dylan from her arms and slid him behind the wheel. "You coming, Liza?" "Aunt Liza!" Dylan cried, kicking again as excitement overtook his whole body. "Let's go!" "You heard the boy, let's go." Nate had the nerve to grin at her as he pulled the seat belt across Dylan's little body, nestling the child into place on his lap. On a sigh, she started around the back of the car, her mom instantly on her heels. "Liza! This is a miracle, isn't it?" Not exactly. "This job sounds wonderful." She squeezed Liza's hands. "And do you know he's one of the most eligible billionaires in the country? Billionaires _with a b_ , Liza." "Don't get your hopes up, Mom. This isn't about...us." "Health benefits! Child care! Set your own hours!" Mom's voice rose with every empty promise. Because, really, what else could they be? "And look at him! You wouldn't be the first boss-and-secretary romance." She looked to the sky, a full-headed eye roll necessary to calm her mother on a marriage roll. "Let's go," Nate called. "I can't hold him still much longer." "And he's so good with kids!" Mom slapped her hands on her cheeks in sheer wonder. How good would he seem in a custody battle? The words had a chilling effect on her heart, making her step toward the car to protect what was hers. Dylan was hers. She couldn't forget that. Except...he was also Nate's. **** **Chapter Five** As soon as the car was moving, Dylan relaxed into Nate, his tiny hands gripping the leather steering wheel, his little body finally still. His guardian, on the other hand, was anything but relaxed. He threw her a reassuring look, but she had that lip trapped between her teeth again, her arms wrapped around herself as tight as the seat belt. "There we go, now, we're going to make a right." Of course, Nate controlled the car completely, still holding the wheel with his own two hands and keeping them at a nice ten miles an hour on completely empty streets. "You got it, kid." He felt Liza's stern look and met it with another smile. "S'okay, Aunt Liza," he said softly. "We got this." "Like you had it back there at my house?" she asked under her breath. "With some bogus job offer?" "We got this!" Dylan repeated in his high-pitched voice. A voice that reached into Nate's heart and twisted things around a little. "Not bogus at all," he replied. "The offer is legit." "Why?" she asked. "Because you're exactly what we need and..." Dylan squirmed and giggled and stole a glance of pure joy over his shoulder. Because maybe he wanted to be near this kid? "It makes sense." No, it didn't actually make sense, but he couldn't deny the sensation that had rocked him at the sight of Dylan Cassidy. _God uses the same flawless mold for every piece of Ivory glass!_ He could hear the Colonel's proud voice, his announcement made at each birth and baptism in the Ivory family, celebrating the growth of the name built on the glass industry. "It's just crazy," Liza said. Yes, it was. But...it was true. And Dylan looked like he'd walked right out of that mold. "Whoa, here comes a truck." Nate inched the wheel to the right and hugged the curb while a pickup rolled by. "T-R-U-C-K! Truck." "And what a great speller!" Nate gave the boy's shiny hair a ruffle, remembering his own hair being that honey color when he was small. "Many words," Liza agreed. "But he shouldn't win when he has a temper tantrum." "Does he have them often?" She blew out a breath. "All the time. Daily. Hourly. Way more than you want to deal with, trust me." He wanted to laugh, but he got her message. She didn't want him to like this child. "He'll kick the heck out of your car," she added. "And he never sleeps through the night. Plus, he gets a lot of colds and..." Her gaze shifted to Dylan's face, and her eyes deepened in color, more blue with concern. "And he's..." She nibbled her lip. "He's a good kid," she finished. "I'm sure, but—let's wait here for the mailman to pass, bud." "M-A-I-L! Mail!" Dylan shimmied on Nate's lap, so delighted with himself. "Aunt Liza, I can dwive!" The childish pronunciation and babyish enthusiasm were so damn sweet, Nate couldn't help but smile. But Liza's misery was apparent with every passing minute. "Just one more street, then we go back to your..." He had no idea what this child called Liza's mother. "Just Paulette," she supplied. "And be prepared for half of the Gulf Shore Country Club to be waiting on the front lawn with cameras when we get back." And how long until one of those amateur paparazzi calls the professionals in and someone takes a look at the kid and Nate only to put two and two together and come up with a new Ivory scandal? One look at Liza, and he knew she was thinking the same thing. "I should probably lie low," he said. "Ya think?" "S-T-O-P! Stop!" "Yep," Nate agreed, tapping the brakes at the intersection and waiting for a second before they continued on. He should probably stop, too. Stop soaking up this child and already imagining...a relationship. He put a hand on the tiny shoulder in front of him, a dark, hollow sensation in his gut, a lone question burning since this news first broke. Was it possible he really had a son? He pulled back into the driveway and turned off the car, relieved not to see a bevy of local socialites waiting for him. "Here you go, Dylan," he said, unlatching the seat belt and opening the door. "Pauwette!" Dylan hollered, then ran toward the house, leaving them alone in the car. After watching the boy disappear and leave behind a singularly confusing hole in Nate's heart, he had to pose the question that had been haunting him. "Why wouldn't she find me and tell me?" he asked softly, knowing his voice was rich with pain and really not caring. The realization hurt. "She did." "She did not," he fired back. "I swear on anything and everything that journal she wrote is a lie. I never saw her again, and she..." A low anger seethed and bubbled in his veins. "What kind of person decides she has a right to keep that secret?" He expected a defense of her dearly departed friend, but Liza lifted her shoulders and shook her head. "A person who wants to keep her child. She was afraid you and your family would want him." "That's what she said in the notebook, which is riddled with lies." "No, she told me that from the beginning," Liza said. "I always thought the father should have signed something, but she wouldn't do that. She was convinced you'd take the baby or your family would." And she'd be right. Mimsy and the Colonel would pay whoever needed to be paid and sign whatever needed to be signed and weather whatever shitstorm the media threw at them, because Ivorys stuck together, no matter what. "And would that have been a legitimate fear?" Liza asked when he didn't answer. Nate looked at her for a long time, debating exactly what to say. In the end, he chose a simple course of action—his other reason for coming here today. "I want to find out more about her," he said. "I can tell you what you need to know." He shook his head. "I don't think that girl I met and the one you knew were the same." "What?" "I mean, they might be the same person, but she was obviously a chameleon or split personality or something." "Maybe she was," she admitted. "But that doesn't change this mess of a situation." "Liza, I didn't go looking for this." She closed her eyes and nodded. "I shouldn't have—" "Oh, yes, you should have," he corrected. "A man has a right to know if he's had a child, and your friend was the one who made a huge mistake, not you." "I agree," she said. "Except, she always said she'd told the father of her baby that she was pregnant and he told her to get lost." "That conversation never happened with me," he said, a little tired of making this assertion. "Maybe Dylan's not mine." "But her journal! She uses your name, describes your meeting exactly as you said it happened." "Liza, she wouldn't be the first woman to fantasize about..." He realized how arrogant the statement sounded, and let his voice trail off. "I have some, I don't know what you'd call them, admirers? Fans? Desperate women who like my last name and want it." She snorted softly. "Trust me, Carrie wasn't that woman." "Like I said, I need to find out just who and what she was," he said. "I know who she was, Nate. She lived with me for three and a half years. We were close friends, we talked about everything, we raised her child together, we...what?" She'd finally seen his look. "She didn't tell you my name, though, right? She left it in some notebook that you found when she died? Did you ever meet her family?" "Her parents were dead, and she was an only child." "You really know nothing about her except what she fabricated since she moved here." She closed her eyes, unable to deny that. "She never seemed anything but one hundred percent genuine." "Are you a good judge of character?" She didn't answer at first, then lifted a shoulder in admission. "I'm a better judge of things on paper, I'll admit. I can spot a phony legal document a mile away, but..." She sighed. "I do things impulsively, and maybe I trust too easily." He put his hand over hers, a sympathy he didn't quite understand but couldn't deny taking hold. "Let's do a little investigating, then. Maybe my friend who lives in Key West can help, too. We both deserve to know the truth." "Remember, I work in the County Clerk's office, and that gives me access to a lot of official documents, from every county in the country. I can dig into that name, Bailey Banks, and of course, more about her parents and childhood in Arizona." "If she was even from there. Sorry, Liza, but everything about her is suspect. Is she even really dead?" Liza closed her eyes. "I identified her body after the accident." "I'm sorry." He added some pressure to her hand, wanting her to know he meant that. "How did Dylan handle that?" "Not well," she said. "He misses her, although I think he's forgetting about her as each month passes. He's always had me, and my mother, who adores him. I've been like a mother to him from the day he was born." She slipped her hand out from underneath Nate's, taking a second to nibble on her lip as she chose her next words carefully. "I need you to know something." He nodded, waiting. "I won't give him up easily, no matter what we find out about Carrie or what a DNA test says or what you want to do. I will fight for him because I love him with every cell in my body. His mother named me legal guardian, and that will carry a lot of weight in court." _Court_? "The last thing I want to do is drag this to court." "Then sign the paper and let me have him to raise and love," she said. "You can..." She closed her eyes as if the words pained her. "You can see him." Two responses played in his head. _Maybe I will_ was one. The other was the truth, so he said it. "He's an Ivory." "What does that mean?" she demanded. "It means he's...family." "Define family," she shot back. "I've been with him since he took his first breath, first step, first bath and first birthday. I rock him to sleep every night. I take him to the park and supervise playdates and make sure he eats right. Except for a few strands of DNA, I _am_ his mother." "And because of a few strands of DNA, I could be his father." For a long time, they just stared at each other, neither one willing or able to say a word. He studied her mysterious eyes, dark with distrust and fear and more alluring and beautiful than anything he could remember seeing in a long time. "Why are you smiling?" she asked. Was he? "I don't know. I guess because you're so pretty." She inched back. "Now? You're going to hit on me now in the middle of the biggest crisis of either one of our lives?" "I'm not hitting on you, Liza. Though I do wish we'd met under different circumstances." "Like what? A party on your yacht? What did you say? Bare-ass naked with some guy's wife's hand on your—" "Shhh." He put his finger over her lip to stop the words from spewing out. For reasons he'd never, ever understand, a low burn of embarrassment started in his gut. He didn't want this lovely, caring, maternal young woman, who clearly gave with all her heart and soul, to even think about his... _lifestyle_. "Listen, Key West is a couple of hours away on my boat. Let's go together and see what we can find out about her." For a second, he was sure she was about to say no to the invitation, but then she stunned him with a direct look and a simple answer. "Yes, I'll go." After they exchanged numbers and made plans for him to pick her up the next day, she climbed out of the car, pointedly not issuing an invitation for him to come inside. Instead, she walked slowly away from his car. Then her front door flew open, and Nate glanced back to see Dylan running toward the street, arms outstretched. "N-A-T-E! I spell your name! N-A-T-E!" The letters were screamed so loud, he heard them through the closed windows. Liza scooped the child up in her arms to carry him in without even looking back at Nate's car. She was his mother, for all intents and purposes. But if he was his father...he simply had to know. And then? He had no idea. **** **Chapter Six** He sent a limo for her. And a remote-control-operated toy sports car for Dylan. Liza didn't know whether to be thrilled or disappointed, but she was a little of both when the driver closed the door with a solid thud. With Mom waving goodbye from the driveway and Dylan dancing with excitement for his new toy, Liza dropped her head back on the cool leather and closed her eyes. Everything smelled...rich. Was this just like the limo where he and Carrie... _Don't, Liza. Don't think about that._ This would be a fact-finding mission, a day trip to the Keys and back, a chance to smooth out the wrinkles in this messy situation. This trip was so impersonal that he sent a car and driver rather than picking her up himself. She had to remember that and put her mother's musings and any of her own really stupid secret fantasies to sleep while she focused on finding out what they could about Carrie Cassidy. She held on to that thought until the limo driver pulled into the harbor on Mimosa Key and the first thing she saw was Nathaniel Ivory waiting on the dock next to the cabin cruiser she'd been on yesterday. Bathed in sunshine, the breeze whipping his hair into a tousled mess, he stood with his hands on narrow hips, wearing khakis and a faded blue button-down shirt that fit his broad shoulders like it was custom-made for him—well, duh. Everything was custom-made for him. His sleeves were rolled up to show corded forearms, the top button undone to reveal a peek of that impressive chest. His thick hair brushed the collar of his shirt with a hint of wave, the sun picking up the strands of burnished gold among the much darker shades. He looked unreal, like a Photoshopped model who'd just stepped off the pages of a Nautica ad. Who wouldn't buy what he was selling? He approached the limo and opened the door before the driver even got out, dipping over to give her a dazzling smile. "Hope you don't mind the ride." She laughed. "Yeah, all this leather and luxury. Really sucks." "I wanted to get you, but I had some things I had to take care of on board." He reached for her hand to help her out, glancing up to the driver as he got out of the front. "Is her bag in the back?" "My bag?" Liza stepped into the sunshine, warmed by it and the thought that he expected her to bring a bag. "Won't we be back tonight?" "It's about a four-hour cruise down there, and I don't know how long it will take us to poke around Key West, and there might be some weather tonight." Was he proposing they get a hotel or sleep on his boat? It was sizable, but she'd seen only one cabin. She leaned around his shoulder to check out the vessel again. "It looks pretty seaworthy to me." "Good Lord, Liza, I wouldn't take you to the Keys on that." With a strong hand on her shoulder, he turned her to look beyond the harbor to the open water. "We're taking my _other_ boat." She couldn't do anything but stare. "I thought that was..." A freaking cruise ship. "Someone else's." " _N'Vidrio_? I've been practically living on her for years." It was a floating castle of a super-mega-over-the-top yacht, complete with colorful flags and a helicopter pad. "What does the name mean? Other than 'biggest boat in the damn ocean'?" He laughed. "It's not. N for Nate. _Vidrio_ is Spanish for glass, which is the basis of my family's fortune, and it's also close to the word for envy." "Which everyone feels when they see that yacht." She turned back to the thirty-foot cabin cruiser. "And this is what? Your ferry boat?" "Precisely. There's a utility garage on the lower deck of the yacht to house this." His _utility boat_ was nicer than some vessels the millionaires in Naples had. "Well, I didn't bring a bag," she finally said, still trying to get her head around the fact that she was going to the Keys on _that yacht_. "No worries. We have everything you need on board. My sister, Beth, travels with me a lot, so her stateroom is full of anything a woman needs, and you're about the same size. If not, we can have some clothes delivered. There are personal shoppers in Key West." Of course there were. She gave a smile and let it slide into a soft laugh. "Your life," she said, shaking her head, "is not like anything I've ever imagined." "Then relax and enjoy it," he said, guiding her toward the boat. "Let's try to think of this as an adventure rather than a mission." By the time they pulled out of the harbor, Liza started to relax. The breeze picked up, just chilly enough to make her glad she wore a sweater, and the briny smells of the sea made her enjoy a deep inhale and the rumble of high-octane inboard motors behind her. _An adventure rather than a mission_. Could she get that mind-set for this excursion? She peeked out from under her lashes to watch Nate steer them toward his yacht, enjoying the view of him as much as the glorious day on the water. It certainly was...adventurous. How did a person actually _live_ like this? Every minute made her more convinced that she couldn't let Dylan be sucked into this life. There was nothing normal about it. Everything about Nate was too big, too much, too rich, too wild. Nate angled the wheel and brought the boat around to aim right at the massive white vessel. Four stories and well over a hundred feet long, gleaming white with glossy black windows, _N'Vidrio_ was nothing short of breathtaking. "Wow." He turned from the helm as they motored up to the back end of the yacht and two men in matching navy shirts came out to greet them. "It does have a wow factor," he conceded. "But most of the time, it's just home for me." She stood and joined him, shouldering her handbag and bracing her legs for the docking. "Do you really live here?" "When I am traveling near water, yeah. But the harbor in Mimosa Key is too small, so I keep it out here. I'm opening an office in the resort, as you know, so I'll split my time between here and there." Because living at a resort was more normal than on a megayacht. One of the crewmen helped her on board, and Nate joined her, giving her a guided tour through the first deck, then the second, and by the time they reached the main living level, she'd seen so much leather and brass and marble and crystal, her head was spinning. He took her to the bridge and introduced her to Captain Vicary, whose warmth and experience immediately put Liza at ease. After that, they moved to a private outdoor lounge with a Jacuzzi, a dining table, and a bar—staffed, of course, by another navy-shirted crew member. "I ordered some lunch," he said as they settled across from each other on white leather lounge chairs. "Would you like a drink?" When in Rome, right? "I'll have what you're having." He stepped away and spoke to the bartender, leaving Liza alone for a moment. She soaked up the view, caressed the butter-soft lounge chair, and then opened her bag to see if she had any texts from Mom. She did, a picture of Dylan and his new car. When Nate came back with two Bloody Marys, she turned the phone for him to see. "Thank you, by the way. He was in heaven." "C-A-R?" he asked, smiling at the picture. "Spelled so many times, I couldn't wait to get in the L-I-M-O." He handed her the drink and sat across from her, holding his for a toast. "Here's to Dylan, then. He's a great kid." She didn't drink right away, gauging exactly what the wistfulness in his voice could mean. "You're still thinking about it, aren't you?" He sipped, lifting a brow. "About him being mine and what that means? Of course. That's why we're here, right? To find out the truth about...her." "You can't even say her name." "I don't know what it was, evidently," he shot back. "She wasn't really my type." She let out a soft grunt. "But that didn't stop you from—" He held up his hand, palm out, silencing her. "I don't think my bad choices are a big surprise to anyone, including you. For what it's worth, I'm trying—and succeeding—to change my wicked ways." "No more casual limo hookups?" she asked. "Why?" He picked up the glass and studied the red liquid, toying with the leaves of the crisp celery stick garnish. "Those days are over." He slipped into a rueful smile. "They have to be." She sat a little straighter, not sure what he was saying. Was it because of Dylan? "Why?" "Because of..." He shook his head. "Look, Liza, I've had a good time. A professional partier. A wild lifestyle. But I've made a promise to settle down, and I plan on keeping it." "A promise to who?" "The Colonel." He shrugged, as if she might not know who that was. "Also known as 'Grandfather,' but he really hates to be called that. Thinks it sounds too soft." She knew the famous patriarch of the Ivory clan, married to "Mimsy," as they called his eighty-year-old wife, both as famous as the king and queen of a country. "So you promised your grandparents, not your parents?" she asked. "My parents?" He let out a dry laugh, then took a deep drink. "My mother lives in Belgium, a virtual recluse. My father is on his...fourth wife? I lost track and can't stand any of them. But suffice it to say he's in no position to pass judgment on how I live my personal life. No, the only opinion that matters in our family is that of one old ex-Marine who has some very impressive purse strings." She couldn't help curling her lip. "That's kind of sad, don't you think?" "What's sad is the Colonel thinking I'm a waste of the Ivory name." A wholly different kind of wistfulness colored his tone, surprising her. "So you're cleaning up your act?" she asked. When he nodded, she added, "What's driving that? The purse strings or what your grandfather might think?" "Not the purse strings. I have my trust fund, and no one can take it from me. No, it's his opinion that matters to me," he admitted. Liza shifted on the lounge chair, taking a minute to have another spicy sip, letting the sunshine and alcohol and surprising confessions warm her. "For as much cyberstalking, as you call it, that I've done, I don't know much about your grandfather. He doesn't get as much media coverage as the rest of you." "That's because he's the behind-the-scenes manipulator." "Is that how he got so rich?" He lifted his Bloody Mary and tapped the side. "This made him rich." Ivory Glass was one of the most well-known brands in the world, as common as Kleenex and Coca-Cola. "Did he invent it?" she asked. "Actually, his father did. The first James Ivory was a glassblower in Upstate New York at the turn of the twentieth century. He created the compound that made the glass nearly unbreakable but didn't do much with it. When my grandfather was still in the Marines, working his way up the ranks after the war, he already knew his dad was sitting on a pile of gold. By the time he left the military as a colonel, he didn't let the wound that gave him a lifelong limp stop him. The post-World War II building boom happened, he mined that gold, making sure Ivory glass windows went into every new skyscraper in America. The rest is family history." A history she knew in rough detail. The Colonel and his wife had six overachiever kids and they had kids. Everyone in the family either stayed in the business as it sat on top of the _Fortune_ 500 list or went on to politics, entertainment, finance, real estate, or business. "Ivory always turns to gold," she said, quoting a common expression about the family. "Or a party." He set the glass down with a thud. "But, like I said, I'm out to change that." "Is that why you've taken this role as the manager of the Barefoot Bay Bucks?" "One of the reasons. Starting a minor-league team, building a stadium, yeah, the project has really given me a focus, and I'm stoked for the job and working with such good friends. But there are more steps in my non-evil plan." He made a sweeping grand gesture toward the yacht. "You might notice the distinct lack of dancing girls and drinking boys, also known as the regulars on _N'Vidrio_." "Dancing girls?" "A euphemism for..." "The blondes in the hot tub you referred to the other day." He didn't answer right away, but his golden-brown gaze turned warm as he regarded her. "I don't even like blondes." Heat curled through her, unexpected and unwanted and way, way too strong. She should look away. She should make a quip or stand up or remind him that Carrie was a blonde. She should do a lot of things other than stare right back for five, six, seven straight heartbeats. Holy hell, she realized with a start. _I could like this man._ In fact, she already did. * * * When they were close to Key West, the captain tracked south around Tank Island to work the ship to one of the few docks near town large enough to accommodate her. Nate was taking Liza to the bridge to enjoy the process of watching Vicary in action, when his chief steward signaled him for a private conversation. "Excuse me, sir," Alex said in a soft voice. "Colonel Ivory is calling your stateroom." A call from his grandfather was rare, but not entirely unexpected. Sometimes, the old man had to "spend time in the trenches," as he liked to say. "Have him hold, Alex. I'll be right there." "Do you have to go?" Liza asked when the steward walked away. "For a few minutes. Go up to the bridge, and I'll meet you there. Captain Vicary will make you feel at home." "I doubt I'd ever feel at home here," she said. "But take your time, and I'll enjoy the scenery." He followed another corridor to the oversized master stateroom that took up nearly half of the second deck. Taking a deep breath, he sat in a plush office chair and picked up the satellite phone. "Hello, Colonel." "Key West, young man? That's never a good place for you. Bad as Vegas, in my opinion. Why don't you go somewhere less colorful?" Nate smiled to himself, not at all surprised at the greeting. "I'm entertaining a young woman—" "Of course you are." "—who we are hiring to work as an admin for the baseball team." He harrumphed. "Don't get your milk where you get your bread, son. It's bad form." It was impossible not to laugh at him. "I'll take your counsel, sir. Is that why you're calling?" "I'm calling because we haven't seen you in over a month. Mimsy gets anxious, you know, and wants as full a table as possible for our family meal. Sunday dinner is critical time for the family." Critical for bonding or for the Colonel to stick his nose into the business of every one of them? Both, Nate knew. Every Ivory who could make it was expected to show up at the "Ivory Tower" in "full uniform"—suit and tie for the men, formal dress for the women. It was tedious as hell, but they all knew better than to ignore too many Sundays and risk a surprise visit from the Colonel. "Maybe in a few weeks, sir. I'm really tied up with this new venture." "If I know you, you're tied up, all right. To the bedpost with this female friend." "Actually, you're wrong. She's not..." Well, she _was_ hot. And he had been thinking about kissing her for the entire trip, but...they had too many complications. "She's got a kid." "Really? Nothing wrong with that, long as you make your own." Evidently, he had. He didn't answer, his gaze moving to the open view of Key West out his sliding glass door. "Listen to me, Nathaniel." Nate knew what the softening of his voice meant. The Colonel often used a different tone when he really wanted to make sure his point got across. "I'm watching for that progress you promised. You know I'm not getting any younger." He was eighty-three, going on fifty. "I know, sir." "And no matter what situation you get yourself into, you can depend on your family—especially me—to help you." "Thank you, sir." He thought about Dylan for a moment, longing to tell the Colonel more about the boy and the situation. It would be so easy to bring Dylan into the Ivory clan. He'd be accepted and loved and, regardless of what Liza thought, he'd be brought up right. Shit, what a mess. "I'll be in touch with you, sir," he added vaguely. They finished the conversation after a moment, and Nate headed back to the bridge, but before he turned the corner, he heard the pretty, musical notes of Liza laughing. The impact brought him to a halt, making him realize how rare a sound that was. And how much he wanted to hear more of it. She had laughed over lunch, but she'd been cautious, asking a lot of questions about his family, keeping the subject on him and not her. Now he realized, with a little regret, he'd found out very little about her. And everything in him wanted to change that. He came around the corner, and she was still laughing with the captain, but her face flushed slightly. "Everything okay?" she asked, her laughter fading. No, he thought with a start. This wasn't okay. Every minute with her, things just got more complicated. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just...work things. You want to walk to the bow and watch the docking? It's a lot of fun from up there." "It's fun from here, too," Captain Vicary said with a flirtatious wink at Liza. "But you can take her." Without thinking—well, maybe he thought a little—Nate reached for her hand. "Careful, he'll have you working here if you show any interest in yachting at all." She settled her pretty gaze on the captain. "We were just talking about that." "She's working for me," he said, pulling her hand into his chest. "And it's time we finalize that arrangement right now." She let him guide her around to the bow, their feet tapping the teak deck in unison. "He's a lady killer, you know that," Nate said. "Captain Vicary?" Once again, the infectious laugh. "He let me steer for a while. It was great. I got us around that island all by myself." He laughed. "With the help of a crew and a few engines, not to mention radar navigation. But I agree, it's a kick to drive this thing." And so was putting his hands on her waist and getting behind her, guiding her up the last narrow set of stairs to the tip of the bow. There, he stayed right behind her, close enough that her body molded into his and the wind blew her hair against his cheeks. "I swear I won't make a 'king of the world' joke," he teased. She tilted her head back just enough to catch his gaze. "But you are king of the world, Nate Ivory. And this thing is damn near as big as the _Titanic_." "But more seaworthy, I hope." The wind lifted more of her hair, and he reached out and got a handful, sliding it to the side to revel in the shape of her bare neck. And a sudden bloom of chills on her skin. "Are you cold, Liza?" Her body, just close enough to his so that he could feel her from shoulders to thighs, relaxed a little. "Anything but." "Good." He studied those chill bumps and the tiny dark hairs on the nape of her neck, fighting a very strong desire to lean forward a few inches and plant one little kiss on that smooth, smooth skin. "You know what you are, Liza?" He dragged one finger over the skin, making her shudder. "I bet I seem terribly pedestrian to you." "Pedestrian? That is not at all the word I was thinking right now." _Delicious. Inviting. Feminine._ "Why would you say that?" She glanced over her shoulder at him. "I'm not made for this, you know. This...life. I'm really kind of simple and ordinary, and my idea of an exciting Saturday afternoon is a trip to the Germ Factory with Dylan." "The Germ Factory?" He laughed. "What the hell is that?" "A play place with bins of plastic balls for jumping. That's what I do, Nate. And during the week I straighten out documentation messes for the county. I don't...drink cocktails on yacht decks with billionaires." "Well, you do today." He looked at her for a long moment, then gently touched her chin, directing her face forward. "Now watch how fantastic your buddy Vicary is at docking. He's going to take this thirty-foot-wide monster and slide it right there, between those two piers." He felt her sigh, doing as he suggested, and letting herself slip a little closer to him. She fit perfectly there, so he rested his hands on her shoulders, and neither of them spoke, letting the sounds of the crew dropping the dock cushions on either side of the yacht and the low rumble of the engines fill the silence. A few birds squawked in greeting, somehow intensifying the tangy, briny smell of the sea. An unexpected lurch made Liza fall into him before she grabbed the railing for stability. "And speaking of straightening out documentation messes for the county..." "Yes?" "Are you taking the job as chief unraveler of red tape for my organization?" Slowly, she turned, trapped by his body and the railing, the look on her face saying she either didn't believe him or...maybe she liked the idea. He couldn't tell. "You know you want to, Liza." As much as he wanted to kiss her right that moment, to seal the deal. "I'm not going to lie, Nate. I'm intrigued and interested. But..." "No buts, say yes." "Not yet," she replied. He added a little more pressure, pulling her forward as if he could just impress upon her how fantastic this idea was. "Look, I'm lost in this job. I've never had a freaking job in my life. I don't want to fail, and you're...you're like a secret weapon. You've worked your whole life." "You say that like it's some kind of true accomplishment instead of a jail sentence. Plus, Nate, I hate to break it to you, but out here in the real world, _everyone_ works their whole life. That doesn't make me some kind of Wonder Woman." "You are a Wonder Woman when it comes to land documents and official records. I'm going to work right at the Casa Blanca Resort until we get offices built on-site at the stadium, and it's beautiful there..." He didn't have her, he could tell. She was definitely waffling between "you're out of your mind" and "no." "And," he added with a smile he hoped charmed her, "they have that amazing kids program." "I don't know." "What don't you know?" he prodded. "It's perfect." "I can't do anything until I know what's going to happen with Dylan. And how could you work with him around and..." She shook her head. "No. No. My goal with meeting you was to get rid of you, not get closer. I can't." Without thinking, he pulled her into him, the very opposite of what she said she wanted. She put her hands on his chest and looked up at him, those incredible sapphire and emerald eyes wide and serious. "You want to know something about me, Nate?" "I actually want to know everything about you," he confessed. She gave a vague smile. "Let's start with this, the thing I dislike the most about my...situation in life. The almost-not-quiteness of it." "Excuse me?" "It somehow always seems to haunt me. I almost-but-not-quite have an amazing son, but he's not, you know, mine. And I can't be sure he ever will be. I almost-but-not-quite have a beautiful, safe home in a nice development, except my mother owns it, and that makes her think she owns me. I almost-but-not-quite was in love once, too, but he..." She gave a dismissive wave. "Didn't work out. And now I almost-but-not-quite have the perfect job offer land in my lap, except it's..." "It's what? It's not almost-quite anything. This is a bona fide offer." "I can't spend that much time around you...with Dylan and...no." Without thinking, he pulled her a little closer, just to erase the raw misery in those beautiful eyes. "I _am_ common and simple and pedestrian," she said softly, not lifting her arms to return the embrace but not pushing him away, either. "And I have very strong feelings about that child. I love him beyond description." Her lower lip quivered just enough to show she was a little afraid of what he might say next. Or do. Because he couldn't stop looking at those lips and thinking about... The ship lurched again, bumping the pier and slamming them together, his lips hitting right on hers in a completely unexpected kiss. For one flash of a second, neither moved, then they both slowly backed away. He refused to apologize, and she just let a hint of a smile lift her lips. "You know what you just did, don't you?" "Changed the dynamic between us?" "You almost-but-not-quite kissed me." The smile grew. "The story of my life." The boat stopped with a loud horn announcing their arrival and covering up his next sentence. "Might have to change that story, Liza." **** **Chapter Seven** The minute they stepped off the yacht to the pier, Nate pulled on a nondescript baseball cap. "Sorry," he muttered as he added his reflective shades. "Gotta suit up." "I keep forgetting I'm with a celebrity." He snorted derisively. "You're not. You're with someone people love to say they saw in person and prove it by taking pictures." "That's a celebrity," she said. "No, that's this stupid country that makes people idols and famous even though they've accomplished exactly nothing in their life." She glanced up at him, wishing the sunglasses didn't deny her the chance to gauge how sincere that bit of self-deprecation really was. "Oh, and this helps," he said, sliding an arm around her and tucking her tight to his flank. "Stay very close." "A human shield?" "No, but I won't get bothered nearly as often when I'm with someone and deep in conversation. When I'm alone, I'm like a walking target." "Ugh," she said, and not at all because she fit perfectly under his arm like she belonged there. His body was warm and hard and so, so masculine, and there was absolutely no other way to stay there without sliding her arm around his waist. "That must be a craptastic way to live." "You can't imagine." A woman walked by and did a double take at him—not the usual check-out-a-cute-guy double take, either. The woman's step slowed, her eyes narrowed, her mouth dropped to a little O as she reached for her husband to whisper something. _Isn't that Nate Ivory?_ Liza could practically read her lips. Nate steered them away with purpose, moving faster, keeping his head low. "Just keep moving and get into a crowd." "Holy cow," she murmured as they did. "You really can't go anywhere." "I can, but I'm selective." "Like you can't just go to the store and shop like a normal person." "In some cities, I can. New York, LA are usually safe zones. In some places I lie low, in some I have the stores come to me, and in others, I hire bodyguards." "Armed?" He laughed. "Of course." "Whoa." What would it be like to have to have a bodyguard? What a limiting life that would be and another really good reason for him not to have Dylan. He guided her to a secluded sitting area between some stores, finding a bench under a tree and choosing the empty side that faced a wall rather than all the people. "This life would totally suck," she announced as they sat down. "What sucks is having to be rude to people when I don't want to. I don't want to come off as some kind of cocky asshole, because that does nothing to help my family's image, and really, it's just fodder for tabloids looking for the worst. I don't mind someone knowing who I am, but I hate when I have to be a prick in order to have privacy." "Well, if anyone bothers you, I'll be a prick for you." He eyed her up and down. "Sorry. You couldn't if you tried." "I could be a bitch." "Doubtful. Now, listen, we need a plan," he said. "I don't want to just wander around here like tourists. I thought we could start by going to my friend's house where I'd been to the party that night, but he's not answering his phone. I left a message, and he knew I was coming." "Why don't we go to the restaurant where she worked?" "You know what it is?" She opened her purse and pulled out her cell phone, where she'd jotted down notes the night before. "I went into the office yesterday afternoon and did some digging around. I know where she worked, the apartment complex where she lived, and the number she gave 'in case of emergency' when she first applied for a job with the County Clerk." He threw up his hands with a soft laugh. "See what I mean?" "What? What's wrong with that?" "Nothing, and that's the point. You're so...efficient. You're all prepared. You've gone through papers. You have names and addresses." "That doesn't make me a rocket scientist." She laughed but had to admit the compliment warmed her. "Maybe not, but it would make you a hell of a right-hand...woman." "I thought I was going to be the chief unraveler of red tape?" "You can call yourself CEO if you want." He took the phone and read the notes. "She worked at a place called Red Suns and Hot Buns?" "We're in Key West, my friend. There are lots of suns and buns." He just smiled. "Let's go." Both the restaurant and apartment complex were well within walking distance, so a few minutes later, they were navigating the crowds again, with Nate holding her very close and keeping a running commentary in her ear. That move easily hid his face from people. It also sent a million chill bumps over Liza's skin and made her force herself not to turn to him and accidently almost-but-not-quite kiss him again. One woman watched him carefully as they approached, and instantly Nate pulled Liza even closer, pressing his lips against her ear. "This one's going to be trouble." "How do you know?" "Experience. Do _not_ make eye contact. That's like an invitation." Liza sneaked a look at her, taking in the dark hair and bangs, khaki shorts and bright yellow T-shirt. "Nothing about her says trouble," she whispered, but just as they passed her, the woman turned, staring openly. "Excuse me? Excuse me? Aren't you—" Nate held up a hand. "Not now." "But, please, you're Nate—" "Not now," he said more forcefully, rushing them forward. "I have to get your picture, oh my God." She spun around, looking behind her. "Karen! Karen, get over here." Her voice rose over the crowd, getting the attention of the closest people. "Please," Nate ground out. "I'm on vacation." "So am I!" she replied as if he were making small talk. "Oh my sweet fancy Moses, it _is_ you!" A few more people turned, and Liza could actually feel her own blood start to boil. "Karen, I need a picture! I have Naughty—" Liza jumped in front of Nate, right in the woman's face. "Stop it." The lady drew back, her lip curling. "Who are you?" "His bodyguard. Back off." "Liza, you don't have to—" She shook off Nate's touch and powered closer to the lady, nose to nose with her. "And I'm armed to the hilt and so are ten other people around him that you don't even see right now." The woman's eyes widened, and she glanced to the side. "Get the hell away from him, and if you take your phone out for a picture, I will give the signal to shoot." The other woman sputtered, clearly not sure what to make of a five-foot-four woman making death threats. "I just wanted to..." Nate put his hand on Liza's shoulder, easing her back. "We're okay now." The lady looked from one to the other, and Liza stood on her tiptoes and gave the closest thing to a snarl she had in her. Another woman came running up, breathless, a cup of ice cream in her hand. "What are you screaming about, Joanne? I had to pay for my froyo!" "That's—" Liza inched forward. "Don't even think about it." Joanne held up both her hands, then looked at Nate, her face softening. "Sorry to bother you." He took Liza's hand and tried to tug her away, but she stayed rooted in the spot, using what she knew was a soul-flattening look to slice the woman down. Finally, the two ladies took off, the others around them lost interest, and Liza slipped back under Nate's arm, both of them rushing through the crowded sidewalk. He was chuckling, though, tucking her tighter against him. "I was right about you." "I'm nuts?" She grinned, the rush of adrenaline still pumping through her. "You're Wonder Woman." He looked down at her, his face so close, but all she could see was her own reflection in his sunglasses. Her eyes were shining, her color high, and her lips parted as if she... Oh, Lord. Now she wanted to kiss him. "That was sweet and not necessary and maybe a little dangerous. Don't do it again." "But I saved you _and_ your reputation." He grazed her cheek with his finger. "You did something else you shouldn't have," he said, his voice low and gruff. "Lied about being armed? Is that illegal or something?" He laughed softly. "No." "Then what did I do?" For a long moment, he didn't answer, then he shook his head, refusing to say. "What?" she urged. "I don't want to do it again if I did something wrong." "You didn't do anything wrong." He smiled at her, then dipped his head to plant a soft kiss on her forehead, making the spot burn. "You made me like you even more." Her whole body betrayed her with a splash of heat and hope she really did not want to feel. * * * She'd turned him on, damn it. That's what her little spitfire, protective, fearless bodyguard act did. And the next kiss wasn't going to be by accident. Why the hell did he have to meet this woman under such stupid, complicated circumstances? "There's the restaurant," she said, pointing to a bright orange sign that promised Red Suns and Hot Buns. He led them across the street between a break in traffic, slowing down as a horse and carriage full of tourists trotted past. A woman in the back caught a glimpse of Nate. She pointed, then poked her partner, who turned, but the buggy moved too fast, and they darted behind it, into the restaurant. It was late for lunch and early for dinner, but the outdoor bar was in high gear, with all the stools full and the jukebox wailing some Stevie Nicks. Nate led them to a table near the door, where he pulled out a chair for Liza and took the seat that had him facing inside. In a few moments, a waitress appeared. A very minimally dressed waitress. She wore cutoff white shorts that revealed a third of her backside and a tight bright red crop top with a sunset emblazoned across her double D's—fake, in his expert opinion. The words Red Suns rolled over her chest, the tops of the letters covered by the ends of her platinum blond hair. "Whatchya guys havin'?" she asked, shuffling her pad without really looking at them. "How long have you worked here?" Liza asked. That got her attention, right on Liza, which is exactly where he suspected she wanted it. If this one got all gooey-eyed over him, they might not learn anything. "You lookin' for a job?" the girl asked, nodding as if she already knew the answer. "No, I'm trying to find out about a friend of mine who used to work here, but it was more than five years ago." "Before my time," she said. "But, hey..." She turned—revealing a matching Hot Buns written across her lukewarm ones—and waved over another server, a dark-haired young woman who looked like she was in her late twenties. "Tracy, c'mere for a sec." The other woman pivoted on her sneakers and bounced over, a huge, friendly smile in place. "What up, buttercup?" "You've been here forever, right?" She rolled brown eyes. "Feels like it. I started in '05." She gave a throaty grunt and dropped her head back. "Why, God? Why can't I get my life together and not be a waitress?" She grinned at her joke. "Who wants to know?" "This lady is looking for someone named..." "Carrie Cassidy," Liza said. "Did you know her when she worked here?" The woman shook her head, frowning as she considered the question. "No, no. I didn't know anybody by that name. When did you say she worked here?" "About five years ago. I have a picture. Maybe you'd remember her." Liza got her phone, tapped the screen, and showed it to the waitress. "This is her." The woman leaned closer, and their first server poked her head in to look, too. "No, I don't..." She squinted and took the phone, staring at it. "Wait, I do know her. She worked here for almost a year. Um..." She snapped her fingers, digging for more. "Bonnie? Brandy? What the hell was her name?" "Bailey?" Nate suggested. She looked up, face brightening. "Bailey Banks! Yes. I do remember her." She looked at the picture again, thinking, then shaking her head. "Where is she now?" "Well," Liza said, "I'm sorry to say she died in a car accident." The woman's mouth dropped open. "No way! Oh my God, I never heard that. She just disappeared after...is that her little boy?" Still holding the phone, she dropped into an empty chair at the table, as if the knowledge that someone she knew had died pressed her down. "Yes, it is," Liza said. "That fucking bastard, excuse my French." Nate leaned forward. "What do you mean?" She glanced at him, then Liza. "Oh, her dickwad, deadbeat baby daddy." He saw Liza suck in a breath, clearly unable to speak. So he did it for her. "Who?" he demanded. "You know him?" "Oh, hell, everyone knows Jeff Munson around this town. He's been up every skirt in Key West." "Jeff Munson, the old line cook?" the first waitress asked. "I know him. Whoa, yeah, total manwhore." Tracy jutted her chin to the picture. "She loved the hell out of him, though. She even moved in with him for a while." Shaking her head, she sighed again. "God, I can't believe she's dead. I wonder if he knows." So did Nate...what if Liza was all wrong? What if he wasn't anything but a fall guy? "Do you know where we could find him?" Liza asked. The other girl stepped closer. "I know where he lives." A soft flush bloomed under her makeup. "I've been there for, you know, after-work parties. It's over in Conch Harbor in those apartment buildings off Twelfth Street." "Oh, God, no," Tracy said, leaning back and narrowing her eyes at Liza. "Please tell me you are _not_ some HRS person who's going to give that kid to Jeff Munson, are you? Because I'm here to tell you, he is _so_ not father material. Parties constantly, has a stream of 'ho bags in and out of his place, and hasn't had a legit job in his life. Trust me, he doesn't want a kid to hamper his style." Nate swallowed, staying very still. She'd just described him. "No, no, we're not from HRS," Liza assured her. "But it does seem fair to tell him what happened to her." The waitress shrugged. "He won't care unless it involves money. That dude lives for the next get-rich scheme." She pushed up to get back to work. "Sorry to hear about Bailey. Sweet kid, but maybe not the brightest bulb in the bunch. She was always trying to make him jealous and making up shit about meeting celebrities at work. As if we get Leo DiCaprio in here on a regular basis." She started to walk away, but Liza reached out her hand and stopped her. "Did she tell you she met Leo DiCaprio?" she asked. Tracy snorted. "And Ryan Gosling and Adam Levine and, oh my God, that...that billionaire guy, the naughty hottie one from the messy family." Nate froze—inside and out. To her credit, Liza didn't even blink. "That girl had a _fertile_ imagination and really tried to get Jeff's pants in a bunch over her 'celebrity' encounters, but..." She shrugged. "I just hope she died happy." "She did," Liza said, her throat tightening. "She was really happy." "Good, good. 'Cause, man, life is short." She gave a remorseful smile. "I better quit this gig and start living it." When she walked away, Liza turned to the other waitress. "We're not going to have anything, sorry." "No biggie. Good luck finding Jeff, and sorry about your friend." Nate had no idea if she glanced at him, because he looked down at the menu they didn't need and made sure the bill of his cap covered everything but his chin. After a moment, they were alone, and he looked up at Liza, stunned to see her eyes swimming with tears. "What's wrong?" he asked. "She probably made you up," she whispered. "Why would that make you cry?" She bit her lip, hard, then blinked away the moisture in her eyes. "Maybe she made everything up. Her name, her life, her...everything. What if all those years of friendship were just a lie?" He reached out a hand, no clue how to console her. "Come on, Nate," she said, blinking away her emotions. "Let's go find this Munson guy. That place where he lives matches the address for Carrie's last address in Key West. I have a really good idea." He was starting to know her well enough to know she probably did have an idea, and it probably was good. But something in him, something he really didn't understand, made him hope that this loser guy wasn't Dylan's father. He wasn't sure why he felt that way. Out of pity for Dylan if that was the case? Or maybe he was starting to like the idea of Dylan being his? **** **Chapter Eight** By the time they reached the complex, Liza had fully composed herself, forcing herself to pay attention to the surroundings, avoiding crowds as they walked briskly across town. She could not afford to get emotional about this yet. Not ever. "All right, we need a plan of action," Nate said as they neared the destination. "I told you, I have a plan for dealing with him." "Not alone. Not with some guy who's been described as a douche-bag." "I can handle a douche-bag. My goal hasn't changed, Nate. I want a signed Termination of Parental Rights so that no one has a claim to Dylan." But that wasn't all, and she had to admit that. "I also want the truth about who he is. Someday, I'm going to have to tell Dylan." As he nodded, his expression grew darker, maybe realizing just how difficult a conversation that would be, no matter what was said. "That's why you got so worked up in the restaurant." "This whole situation has me worked up," she confessed. "The sooner I have answers, the better." "Then let's go." He led her through the open gate to the Conch Harbor apartment complex, both of them pausing to take in the half-dozen white stucco buildings with beaten barrel tile rooftops. "This is it," Nate said. "I've been here before." He was that sure? "Wasn't it dark that night?" "Pitch, but I came back the next day, remember? I called the limo driver and had him bring me back, but I couldn't find her anywhere, and I even looked through all the mailboxes. No Bailey Banks. And before you ask, no, I didn't go to the apartment manager. I was trying to stay on the down low, but I really did look for her." Having walked through town with him, she understood. "She was living with this Munson guy," Liza said. "Maybe her name wasn't on the mailboxes." "Maybe. I know I tried to find her." "Why did you, anyway? You said she wasn't your type." He steered her toward the main building, where there was a bank of outdoor mailboxes for every building. "She took pictures," he said after a long beat. "Actually, a video." Liza almost tripped, stopping cold on the sidewalk to stare at him. "Like of you guys..." She couldn't help making a face. "You mean a _sex tape_?" He looked away. "I wanted to get it from her before she did anything stupid with it, like send it to the media." Liza felt her eyes widen. "Did she?" "The tape never surfaced, and I forgot about it until I saw her picture in that journal. It's not possible you have it, is it?" "I doubt it. I got rid of all her stuff, and I don't remember any cameras in her belongings. She used her phone to take pictures." "Let's hope that camera and what was on it is long destroyed," he said when they reached the mailboxes. As they started to peruse the residents' names, Liza gathered up the courage to make a simple request. "Listen, if we find him, I have to talk to him alone." Nate looked up from a row of boxes, frowning. "Why?" "Because if he sees you, it'll change everything. Who knows how he'll react to you? He won't know me, but he'll know you. I want the truth, and I have the best shot of getting it if I'm alone." He didn't answer but turned back to the mailboxes. In a few moments, he tapped one. "Got it. J. Munson, unit 335. That's probably building three, third floor, unit five." "Okay. Wait here for me." She started off, but he snagged her elbow. "Liza." He turned her. "What's your plan?" "Besides brilliant?" She gave him her most dazzling smile. "I'm going to dangle money in front of him." He slid his sunglasses off, his look stern. "Let me assure you from personal experience, that is not a smart thing to do. A blackmailer never goes away, ever. They get their teeth in you and will suck you dry." "Blackmail?" She laughed softly. "I'm so much more creative than that." She tried to ease her arm out of his grasp, but he held tight. "What is it, Nate?" "I don't know," he admitted. "But..." He swallowed and took a slow breath. "I guess I was starting to get used to the idea." "Of Dylan? You'd be disappointed if Dylan wasn't yours?" She couldn't keep the shock out of her voice. "I'd think you'd jump for joy." A little war waged behind his eyes, tawny brown darkening to something deeper and quite powerful. "I don't like the idea of you going up to this guy's apartment alone." But that wasn't what was bothering him, was it? She didn't want to argue, though. "Then stay close by but out of sight. I'll text you if I'm in trouble." She managed to slip out of his grasp, but he got her other shoulder and pulled her close. For a moment, she was certain he was going to kiss her. She stayed still, looking at him, waiting for it, but he just shook his head. "Be careful." "I will be." She stepped away and darted toward building three, not turning but knowing Nate wasn't far behind. Up the open stairs that led to each floor, Liza tried to forget him and remember the plan she'd hatched when they were talking with the waitress. She'd gotten enough clues about this guy to feel certain this would work. At the top landing, a sign pointed left to units four and five, so she turned the corner, following the wall on her left and the railing open to the courtyard below on her right. She rounded the bend, smacking right into a man hustling the other way. "Oh, shit, damn." Papers—mail, it looked like—went flying, along with more curses. "I'm so sorry," Liza said, as the man bent over to grab some envelopes. "Really, sorry." She helped, glancing at the return address as she scooped up what had fluttered away. _J.B. Munson_. Bingo. And with a middle initial to add credibility, too. Glancing at him from behind a lock of hair that covered her eyes, she got an eyeful of hair and tattoos and faded khakis hanging off sun-weathered skin. "My bad, sir," she said, straightening and smiling innocently. He nodded, finally seeing her. And giving her a chance to see his face and any resemblance to Dylan. Brown eyes, yes, and maybe the mouth, but... She realized he was checking her out, too. "We forgive pretty girls around here. Apartment policy." "Thanks and, um, listen, you wouldn't happen to know where I could find a Mr. Jeffrey B. Munson, do you?" He frowned slightly, shaking back some long, streaked hair. "You're looking at him. Why?" "Really? That's fortunate." She slipped her hand into the side pocket of her purse where she kept her business cards and handed him one. "My name is Liza Lemanski, and I work for the County Clerk in Collier County as head of the public records department, and we've been looking for you." "County Clerk. Shit." He refused the card, all friendliness gone. "Parking ticket? Moving violation? Don't tell me I owe freaking back taxes, lady. Call my lawyer." "None of the above, sir. A deceased citizen of Collier County has named you a beneficiary in her will, and we have to complete some paperwork and identification in order to expedite the payment." His eyes widened. "Seriously? How much?" She gave him a tight, professional smile. "Most people usually ask the name of the deceased." "Oh, yeah." He brushed back some hair. "Who croaked? Aunt Thelma from...I don't know where the hell Collier County is." "The woman's name was..." She took a chance. "Bailey Banks." His jaw unhinged, color draining from his face. "She's dead?" At least there was a hint of remorse in his tone, but if this was going to work, there had to be none in hers. "I'm afraid so, and her estate attorney is trying to locate all of the beneficiaries to get copies of the will, but you—" "How did she die?" _No emotion, Liza. None_. "I believe it was a car accident. And it was instant." Oh, why did she add that? A county courier wouldn't know that. "Anyway, I have a few questions for you, and then we'll get the paperwork mailed out." He looked at her, but she could tell he was thinking about Carrie—Bailey—and not her questions. Which made it a good time to ask them. "Can you confirm the date she left Key West?" He frowned, pulled back to the moment, maybe not smart enough to wonder why that question would matter to an estate attorney. She hoped. "Um, I'd have to check something—no, no. Of course I know. It was my birthday, well the day after. We'd had a party, and shit got pretty real, you know, and she didn't like it. She just...took off." "And that day was..." "June 13, however many years ago. Four? Five? I guess five years ago." Exactly the week Carrie had come into the County Clerk's office. They'd always celebrated June 20 as their "friend anniversary." She tilted her chin up, willing herself not to show any reaction. "And she was alone when she left?" "Yeah, as far as I...well, yeah. Sort of." He looked away for a second, his wiry frame tense. "Mr. Munson? Was she alone?" He blew out a breath. "More or less." "What does that mean?" "Well, listen..." He threaded his fingers though his hair, then kept his palm on his unshaved face, rubbing it while he looked at her. "Does that will really call her Bailey Banks?" The way he asked the question made perfect sense if he knew her real name. And Liza had seen her Social Security card. She knew her friend's legal name. "Actually, that's what we call an aka. Her legal name was Careen Cassidy, but they are one and the same." He nodded, all doubt erased from his features as if she'd given him a verbal password and could be trusted. "Yeah, she liked to use that Bailey name. She thought it sounded prettier or..." He shook his head slowly as the facts hit him. "But, wow, so she died. Man, that's sad." "Very." "Did she, um, have any other beneficiaries in that will?" Just Dylan, her _son_. She hedged her bets with a nonanswer. "Her parents passed away." "I know that. I went to their funeral." Did he? Because Carrie's journal said Nate had accompanied her there. _Oh, Carrie, why did you leave behind this mess? Why couldn't you tell me the truth?_ "Then who do you mean?" "Like, did she have any...a kid?" He croaked the last word. "I'm not at liberty to say, Mr. Munson. Why do you need to know?" "Because..." Another puff of air, this one loud and slow. "'Cause when she left..." He looked to the side, embarrassed. "She was pregnant." _Here we go._ She took a wee breath of fortitude and looked him straight in the eye. "Are you the father?" she asked bluntly, willing every muscle in her face to stay in the act of impartial third party and not someone who loved that child with her whole heart. "Well, technically, yeah, but..." "Technically? You are or you aren't, sir." Her heart punched her ribs so hard it had to be leaving bruises. "Would it change me getting any money?" he asked. "I mean, I hate to be crass and all, but we did some...you know...paperwork." A slow heat rose up from her belly, threatening her stability. "What kind of paperwork, Mr. Munson?" "I signed a piece of paper. Something called a terminal...rights termination or—" "Termination of Parental Rights?" "You know what that is?" "I do." He'd signed a TPR already? "And if you could just show me a copy of that paper, Mr. Munson, and your legal ID, then I can"— _adopt Dylan_ —"get on my way. Do you have it?" "Somewhere. How much money do I get?" Nothing. "As a courier, I'm not given that information, but an attorney will contact you after I get a picture of that form. Can I see it?" Please, _please_. "Yeah, yeah. Gimme a sec." He turned and walked a few feet to the door of unit five. "Just wait out here. The place is a hellhole." "Okay." She crossed her arms and leaned against the railing, looking out to the courtyard and fountain below. All the while, she willed her heart rate to slow and the questions to stop. She had plenty of time to ask questions...like _why_? Why had Carrie worried about his father, or his father's "powerful family," taking Dylan if she'd already had that signed paper? Carrie had known who the father was all along, but...why was she scared of "his family" coming to take him? "Beneficiary of a will?" The whisper made her gasp and step back to see Nate hiding around the corner. "That's good, Wonder Woman." "What are you doing here?" she mouthed. " _He's_ the father?" He sounded purely disgusted. Liza felt the same way but couldn't deal with those thoughts right now. She had to get that paper. "I guess I'll know in a minute. Get out of here." The door clicked, and she flashed a look at Nate and used her fingers to zip her mouth in warning. When she turned, she saw Jeff coming down the hall holding a legal-size document. She hustled forward to meet him, praying Nate stayed out of sight. "I can't believe I found this, but here you go." Forcing her hand to be steady, she reached for the document, recognizing it instantly, along with the authentic seal of the State of Florida. She touched legal papers like this a hundred times a week and knew this was the real deal. The _signed_ real deal. "Hang on," she said, grabbing her phone. Aware of his gaze on her, she channeled her inner professional. "If you'll just hold that for me so I can get a picture, Mr. Munson, I'll be on my way." "I signed it because I was pissed at her," he mumbled. She clicked a photo of the signatures on the top page, not answering. "But I still, you know, cared about her." She snapped the midsection full of legalese, the most important part. "I'm sure you did, Mr. Munson." "She was just so messed up, living in a dream world half the time, writing these ridiculous stories about meeting movie stars and shit." His voice rose with frustration. "It was so stupid. She thought she was going to be some kind of famous author, and she made up these stories. Once she even..." She lowered the camera and met his gaze. "Once she even what?" "She liked to make up stuff that would make me jealous. And when that didn't work, then she'd...do stuff to make me jealous." Like sleep with famous billionaires in limousines. "Such as?" she prodded, hoping he didn't realize that no one in her position would ever ask that question. "She cheated on me," he said gruffly. "And made sure I knew it." She had to ask. _Had_ to. "Then how are you absolutely certain this child"—she tapped the paper he held—"is really yours?" "Oh, I'm certain of that," he said. "How?" He snorted. "You think I'd sign a paper without knowing?" She gave him another quick, professional smile and tucked her phone away. "Well, thank you, Mr. Munson." "So, you sure you don't know how much I get?" "I honestly don't know." She took a step back, ready to end the conversation, but he came with her. "Wanna have a drink to celebrate?" "Celebrate?" Was he serious? "A woman is dead. A woman who you say was the mother of your child. What's to celebrate?" All that doubt came back into his eyes as they narrowed at her. "Who the hell did you say you were again? What's your name?" Doubt shifted to something more menacing. "My name—" "Give me your card." He came too close, right in her face, forcing her back. He didn't stop, inches from her now, slowly lifting a hand as if he was going to grab her. "I told you I'm with the county." "Where's this will? Where's your proof?" He slammed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing. "Who are you, lady?" "I'm with the—" "Back off!" Nate shot forward from around the corner, reaching the man in three long strides, shoving him off Liza. "Get away from her." The legal document fluttered into the air. Jeff's eyes flashed, fear for a second, then anger. "What the hell is going on here? Who are you?" "Just leave her alone or—" "You can't have that picture." Jeff lunged at Liza. "Gimme your phone!" Nate knocked him away, but Jeff reached out and got in a swing. He missed the punch, but rocked Nate's sunglasses halfway over his face and flipped his baseball cap off his head. "Nate!" Liza shrieked. Stumbling backward, Jeff sputtered in shock, his long hair caught between his lips. "Let's go, Liza," Nate said, scooping up his hat but keeping his eyes on Jeff. The other man stared at him, chest heaving, eyes squinting. "Wait a second." Nate pulled Liza closer. "Let's go." With no hesitation, he guided her away, fast, almost running, but Jeff flew forward again, throwing his whole body on Nate to try to pull him to the ground. Nate swung around to shake him off, but the guy gave a fight. Liza stepped back, hands to her mouth, watching in horror as Nate lifted the smaller man off him and slammed him against the wall. "Don't make me hurt you." Nate ground out the words, lifting the other man a few inches off the ground. "I know you!" Jeff's face was red, his eyes furious as he stared at Nate. "You're in the tape! You're the one! You're the guy Bailey fu—" "Shut up." Nate shook him, veins popping in his neck with the effort to hold the guy still. "No," he said. "No, I won't shut up. I know everything. I know everything." Very slowly, Nate released his grip on the guy's shoulders, taking one step backward. "Leave us alone," he said. "We don't have any more business here." "I got shit on you, man. I got shit." His feet hit the floor, but Jeff shook his head with an ugly smile. "I could do some damage, too." Nate held out his hands in something remotely resembling a truce. "Just let it go, pal. No harm, no foul." "Or you could give me some cash for my trouble." Nate's whole body visibly bristled. "Shut up." "I can." He brushed his T-shirt, confidence building again. "For a fee." Nate leaned right back into his face. "What part of 'shut up' don't you understand?" He shrugged. "Say, ten grand." Nate puffed a breath of pure repugnance, stepping farther away. "Scum." "What did you call me?" Liza and Nate shared a look and silent agreement. Wordlessly, they started walking. "What did you call me, you dickhead?" "Just keep going," Nate whispered under his breath, a hand on her back to usher her forward. "'Cause I can make your life a living hell!" "Move," he ordered, nearly breaking into a jog just as Jeff fired his parting shot. "You'll pay, motherfucker! You will pay for what you did to me!" **** **Chapter Nine** Liza didn't breathe easy until Nate snagged them a cab and they were finally off the streets of Key West, headed back to the yacht. But as the taxi made its way through a warren of palm-lined streets with pastel houses and coconut palms, Nate stayed stone silent. "I'm sorry," she said to break the uncomfortable quiet. He didn't answer, his jaw clenched as he stared out the window. "I feel like now I have what I want"—she patted her phone, safely tucked into her bag—"and you have a big fat problem." He still didn't reply, making her heart sink. "And I'm still in shock that I could be such a poor judge of character, because Carrie fooled me. I mean, she did have a great imagination. I used to laugh at the bedtime stories she made up for Dylan..." He swallowed, visibly fighting some inner demons. Liza took a chance and put her hand on his thigh. "I wish you'd talk to me." When he turned, the fury and frustration in his eyes were clear. "If he has that tape, he'll release it now." "You can't be sure of that. First of all, that's a big if from five years ago. Second, what does he have to gain?" He snorted. "Revenge." "If he wanted revenge on you for sleeping with his girlfriend, he'd have sold that tape years ago." "We stirred a hornet's nest." And Nate got stung. "Will it make you feel better if I say I'll take the job?" He almost smiled. "Yeah. We're a good team." "I outsmart them and then you beat the crap out of them?" "I didn't beat the crap out of him," he said with a dry laugh, the first in hours. "I could have. Should have. You did outsmart him, though, with the whole beneficiary of the will thing." He put his hand over hers, the tender touch surprising her. "I'm glad you have what you wanted from the very beginning." She studied the angles of his jaw and strong cheekbones, the warmth in his eyes, and the softness of his mouth. Without consciously thinking about it, she inched slightly closer. "The cost was high." "Don't worry, I won't pay him." "What if there's a sex tape released? Isn't that exactly the kind of thing you're trying to get away from? Won't that set you back with your family, and your grandfather, the Colonel?" "He won't like it," he acknowledged, his tone showing just how much of an understatement that was. "And it won't help the image of the new baseball team, especially now when we're still looking for investors so we don't have to sink so much of our money into it. Yeah, it would suck all around. Especially if it somehow has Dylan's name attached to it." "I doubt it will, but I appreciate you thinking about that aspect." She lifted their joined hands, surprising both of them by bringing his knuckles to her lips. "And fighting to protect me." He turned his hand so he could cup her jaw. "You're worth protecting." He rubbed his thumb lightly, grazing her skin. "And I'm reminded once again how little I'm worth." She rolled her eyes, giving her head a shake of disbelief. "And I don't mean money," he said. "Just the shit that is my past." "At the risk of sounding like a page from a self-help book, Nate, you are not the sum total of your past. People change. Look at Carrie. Whatever she was in Key West, she showed up in my office contrite and reformed. I loved her for what I thought she was. Finding out that she had a messy past and a nasty boyfriend and a weakness for rich playboys doesn't make me love her less. She changed." "I bet you helped her and didn't even realize it." The compliment, even in the face of the other sweet things he was saying, squeezed a band around her chest. "I don't know," she admitted. "I wish she hadn't felt it necessary to lie to me." "Maybe she thought you'd judge her. I know I..." His voice trailed off. "You know you what?" He smiled, finally releasing her jaw but still holding her hand. "When I come face to face with someone like you, it's humbling." Was he serious? "Nate, I am the most unremarkable person alive. I work in the County Clerk's office. I live with my mom. I drive a Ford Focus with sixty thousand miles on it. The last thing I am is humbling to a..a..." Did she have to say it again? He was a gorgeous, famous _billionaire_. "A person like you." "You should see yourself the way I see you." He searched her eyes, as close as he could get without kissing her. "You're resourceful. You're caring. You're beautiful. You're... _damn_." Damn? Damn _what_? She waited, but the list had come to an end. "Um, don't stop now." He smiled and gently brought his mouth to hers, the first contact featherlight, almost making her shudder at the sweetness of it. He sighed into the kiss, adding some pressure but still showing incredible restraint. "Bottom line, Liza." He broke the kiss just as the cab pulled into the harbor. "You're too damn good for me." She inched back, trying—and failing—to wrap her head around that statement. But there were so many levels of confounding. Like the fact that he even thought about her in terms of...him. Unless... "You mean for the job you're offering?" "No. For me." * * * After he situated Liza in his sister's favorite stateroom and showed her that she had everything she needed to shower, relax, and change for dinner once they were underway for the return trip, Nate retreated to his own suite to think. Except, somewhere in Key West, he'd stopped _thinking_ and started _feeling_. Feeling something he was not familiar with: inadequacy. No woman ever made him feel that way. Of course, he'd spent his life with women who were exactly like he was—cocky, arrogant, draped in the trappings of wealth, which covered a multitude of sins. Sins that he so badly wanted to erase. So what did this little sojourn down to the Keys do? Magnify them. Increase the likelihood of more of those transgressions coming to light. Make him even more ashamed of how he'd lived, what he'd done, and what stupid, dumb decisions he'd made in the past. When Liza saw that sex tape—which he had no doubt that little prick would find and sell to the highest bidder—she'd be disgusted by him. And for the love of all that was holy, he did not understand why that bothered him so much, but it did. Almost as much as what he had to do next. But he had no choice. There was a way of doing things in his family—the Ivory way—and he knew exactly what had to be done. Scandals, problems, issues, and any kind of thing the Colonel called "whitewater" had to be dealt with inside so they presented a unified front to the outside. There was no getting around that. Even just dialing the number made him feel better, getting this off his chest, and into the hands of a person who would know what to do. The butler answered the phone, as he always had and always would. "Colonel and Mrs. Ivory's residence, how may I assist you?" "Greetings, Emile. It's Nate." "Hello, Mr. Ivory. How can I direct your call?" "I need to speak with the Colonel, please. Is he available?" "Let me check, sir." Of course, the old man kept him on hold for nearly three minutes, giving Nate enough time to rehearse what he was going to say. How he'd cushion the blow and try to minimize the damage control. God knew, it wasn't the first time they'd had a call like this. But he so badly wanted it to be the last. "Did you change your mind? Are you coming to dinner tomorrow night?" Nate sighed into the phone, and all his cushioning and control evaporated. With the Colonel, there was only the truth. "I got a problem, sir. I need to give you a heads-up on something." He heard the grunt of disgust and disapproval on the other end. Or maybe that was the old man settling into his leather chair, bracing for his grandson's latest debacle. Either way, Nate told him everything. Including his deep-seated suspicions that Jeff Munson might not be telling the truth...about _anything_. * * * Liza turned in front of the full-length mirror in a walk-in closet the size of her bedroom at home and admired the final results. She might feel like she didn't belong in the queen's velvet and marble stateroom, but she had to admit, she looked the part. Of course, there were no "everyday" clothes to be found. No simple skirt or T-shirt or casual white pants. And almost everything looked brand new, some still bearing a silk ribbon with a designer's name signed in ink. Which meant...the closet was full of original couture. The least-formal thing she found was a sleeveless white sundress that fell to her ankles in soft waves of linen and lace, fitting a little tightly in the bodice, but loose over her hips and waist. She'd dipped into the cosmetics drawer in the bathroom, applying some makeup to accentuate her eyes because...well, face it, because Nate obviously liked her eyes. In fact, based on that kiss in the cab, he liked more than that. The thought stilled her, making her nibble on her lip and consider what that meant. It meant a dizzying amount of female hormones rushed through her, which was pathetic but undeniable. And it meant that— "Liza?" The tap on her stateroom door made her abandon her thoughts to pad barefoot across the creamy carpet to open the door. And somehow manage not too swoon. "A tux?" He grinned. "For dinner on _N'Vidrio_ with a gorgeous woman?" "You look"— _unfairly hot_ —"formal." "I'm sure I'll take the jacket off and lose the tie after dinner." He stepped back and took a moment to look her up and down, smiling in approval. "You're stunning, Liza." Self-conscious, she brushed the soft fabric. "Please thank your sister for letting me borrow her dress." She leaned forward to playfully whisper, "I think it was made expressly for her." "Then it's a shame you look better in it. In fact, keep it. She'll never miss it, and you look amazing." Liza held out her bare foot. "We don't wear the same size shoe, and I couldn't bear to ruin this pretty dress with those sandals I had on all day. I feel a little...underdressed." "No need." He toed off the black loafers he wore and slipped off his socks to reveal his own bare feet. Which were as ridiculously attractive as the rest of him. _Oh, Liza. This is bad_. "Now we're even." He kicked the shoes into the room, then took her hand, tucking her closer. "You feeling okay?" he asked as they followed a teak-floored hallway to the other side of the yacht. "I'm fine," she said. "How about you?" He gave her a wide, unexpected smile. "I'm really good." "Not worried anymore?" He lifted a shoulder. "What does worry get me? I'd rather enjoy this trip home with you. Here we go." He opened the door to a private dining room with a small table set for two surrounded by rich mahogany and gleaming glass and about fifty flickering candles all around the room. "At the risk of repeating myself...wow." "This is where I eat when I'm alone." She glanced up at him. "And how often is that?" "Lately? More often than you think. Come on and enjoy the view." The sliding doors were open to a spacious side deck, looking right out to the sea. The sun had set, leaving the sky a haunting shade of violet and the water near-black. The longer she looked up, the more stars she saw in the heavens, along with a nearly full moon that bathed them in soft white light. "Pretty romantic setting," she mused as they walked to the railing. "I have it on good authority that it'll be raining in a few hours, so we should take advantage of the clear skies. What would you like to drink?" "Surprise me." He stepped away and picked up a phone in the dining room, spoke softly, then came back outside, standing right behind her. "I want to ask you a question, Liza." His voice was low and close to her ear, giving her chills. "Okay." He ran his hands up her bare arms. "Are you cold?" "No. Is that the question?" He laughed softly. "No." With his hands on her shoulders, he slowly turned her from the stunning view to face him. Which was another stunning view. "Are you satisfied with what we found out today?" She frowned. "Satisfied?" "Do you believe that I'm not Dylan's father?" "Yes," she said. "After thinking about it for the past two hours, I believe that Carrie must have had one hell of an imagination and maybe tried to make her boyfriend jealous or...I don't know. Don't you?" "I want to put it behind us." Us. The word made her whole body feel light. "So I can work for you and this issue won't always be there?" Because surely that's what he meant. "Yeah," he agreed. "And so when I kiss you tonight, you won't be thinking about my past, especially with her." She didn't know what made her dizzier—the fact that he was going to kiss her or the fact that he had no doubt he was going to kiss her. She lifted a brow. "Will you?" "Kiss you or think about her?" He pulled her closer. "I'll answer one of those questions easily." He kissed her on the mouth, a steady, strong, serious kiss that was somehow different from what they'd shared in the cab. "Nate?" she whispered into his mouth. "Hmm?" "Is kissing you going to be part of this job you're offering?" "Actually, we have a strict kissing-is-allowed policy, so..." He kissed her on the nose, lightly. "Yes." Before she could answer, a steward tapped on the dining room door. "Hold that thought," Nate said, stepping away. She leaned on the railing, facing the twilight sky and navy blue water, her lips still tingling from the contact. Her whole body, in fact, was humming pretty hard from her head down to her bare toes. Nate came up behind her again, reaching around to offer a crystal martini glass with clear liquid. With the dimming light behind it, she could see every cut in the glass, which refracted the light like a diamond. "Another house special?" she asked. "Just a simple dry martini, but the glass is a family secret." She took the drink, a little surprised at how heavy the crystal was. "I thought Ivory Glass was the tempered stuff that went into skyscrapers." He gestured toward a wide leather sofa. "That's true and certainly how my grandfather made the fortune. But we also have some very small and exclusive lines of glass and crystal that are really more for personal use and to give as gifts. There's actual diamond dust blown into the glass." He toasted her. "And you may keep yours." She laughed. "Thank you. It's like I get to keep everything I touch on this yacht." Except him. She couldn't keep him. She had to remember that all this was a dreamy fantasy, and not reality. Not Liza Lemanski's reality, anyway. "Cheers." He tapped her glass and sipped, holding her gaze over the rim. "You seem much more relaxed than when we left town," she observed without taking her own drink. "I am. I talked to my grandfather." She inched back in surprise. "You did? You told him...about the tape?" He nodded. "It's how we roll in the family. No surprises, no matter how bad they might be." "What did he say?" He blew out a slow breath. "Some choice words, but, you know..." "No," she admitted. "I don't know." "He knows my history and believes in my future." She smiled, the words a lovely echo of what she'd told him earlier. "Yes. I like that. I do, too." He leaned closer and kissed her lightly. "You haven't tasted the house special yet." She answered by intensifying the kiss. Parting her lips, she let their tongues touch, tasting lemon and dry vermouth and the sweetness of a man who'd finally come to terms with his demons. "I just did," she whispered into the kiss. "And he tastes great." **** **Chapter Ten** All the parties, all the women, all the noise and chaos and music and wasted nights on this yacht, and Nate simply couldn't remember one night he enjoyed more than his dinner date with Liza Lemanski. Fresh off the best and most honest conversation he'd had in years—maybe ever—with his grandfather, Nate's mood soared as they laughed, held hands, sipped martinis, and talked about everything and nothing until the twilight turned to complete darkness. Eventually, they moved into the dining room for lobster and salad, chocolate mousse and dessert wine. With the rain still holding off, and the sea breeze warm and strong, they took a long walk around the deck. The stewards and staff did exactly what he paid them to do—disappeared when he wanted them to—adding to the sensation that they were utterly alone, which was all he wanted to be. They reached the upper deck with not a soul in sight. He guided her to the oversized leather sun bed at the far end of the yacht. "We must be getting close to Naples," she said, eyeing the distant lights of the mainland on the port side. "If I see lights, we've passed the Everglades." "We are, but there's no reason to dock tonight if you want to stay at sea." "I have a reason. His name is Dylan." She gave him a light elbow. "Trust me, kids change everything." "I trust you." He ushered her to the sun bed, moving a few tufted pillows to make room for both of them. "But we still have time for a dip in the pool or drink in the spa if you like." "Hmm." She considered that as she settled next to him, letting him snuggle her under his arm. Her body fit perfectly against his, curvy and soft and feminine. He already itched to touch more skin, to feel her under him and on top of him. He satisfied himself with stroking her bare arm and watching her eyes shutter closed, telling him she wanted the same thing. "I'd have to borrow a bathing suit from your sister." "Or...not." She laughed softly. "Don't tell me. You have a strict skinny-dipping-for-all policy that you personally enforce for every employee of your new company." "I like the way you think, Ms. Lemanski. Ideas like that will have you promoted in no time." "Promoted to what?" Very slowly, very carefully, he tucked his arms under her and eased her on top of him. "Over me." Perfect. Her slender legs slid right over his, her hips slipping right where he wanted her. "Is that my promotion or position?" "Both." As she settled against his chest, he was only slightly surprised to feel her heart beat steady and strong and a little fast. He stroked her back, up and down, sliding into the dip of her waist, then inching over the rise of her backside, getting the tiniest whimper in response. Pressing a kiss on her hair, inhaling the sweet floral scent of her, he let his hips rock once. She looked down at him, nibbling that lower lip. "So what's the company policy on making out?" she asked. "Not required, but always...encouraged." She smiled and offered her mouth, their first kiss warm and full of promise. When it ended, she pulled back and looked into his eyes. "Don't you have more questions about my qualifications and background?" "Your qualifications are obvious—you proved yourself in the field today. Background?" He considered what he really wanted to know about her. "Yeah. Why don't you have a boyfriend?" "What makes you think I don't?" "You're here on this lounge with me. You're not the type of girl to do that if you were involved with someone." She smiled. "So true. Well, I'm involved with a guy who stands forty inches tall and has a weakness for chocolate milk and purple dinosaurs. What's your excuse?" "Honestly? I can't commit, have questionable taste, and don't trust anyone who might be after things other than true love." The response made her bow her back as she lifted her body in surprise. "Really? Is all of that true?" More or less. "I have to be careful, for obvious reasons. And I have been known to choose unwisely when it comes to women. And commitment? Let's just say it's eluded me. I haven't met the right girl yet." "I understand. I haven't met the right guy yet." He brushed some hairs off her face and took another long trip in the beauty of her eyes. What would it be like to be the "right guy" for a woman like her? "So where does that leave us, Liza?" "Us? I guess...boss and employee?" "Nothing more?" She gave him a slow smile. "What exactly are you suggesting?" "I'd like...to know you better. Nothing official, nothing committed, just better." She drew in a breath, regarding him. "In other words...almost-not-quite anything." "Depends on your perspective." "Right now," she whispered, closing her eyes, "I feel like I'm too close to have perspective." "But close enough for this." He pulled her in for a long, slow, deep kiss, sliding his tongue between her lips to part them. Her body felt boneless and limp in his arms, sweet and soft and womanly as she intensified the kiss. Their legs meshed, their hips rocked, and their mouths began exploring everything they could taste. Blood thrummed hot in his veins, swelling him against her, making him move in a natural rhythm that she met with each strained breath. He moved his hands up and down her back, one settling on the lovely curve of her backside, the other tunneling into silky hair. He angled her head and curled one leg around hers, somehow making them fit as though they were made for each other. She tasted like chocolate and peppermint, smelled like roses and salt air, and felt like...heaven. "You're as good at this as everything else," he whispered, tipping her chin up so he could plant tiny kisses on her throat. "Not from too much experience," she said. "Certainly not with billionaires on megayachts." "I don't want to be a billionaire on a megayacht." She laughed. "Hate to break the bad news, but you am what you am, baby." But he wanted to be more. Different. Better. "Forget that, Liza," he whispered gruffly. She answered with a slight whimper when he found a sweet spot right above her collarbone. "Forget who and what I was," he whispered. "Naughty Nate?" she teased. "How could I?" "I hate that name." His voice was thick with repugnance. "Then don't be...naughty." She kissed his mouth, his cheek, his forehead and went back to his mouth for more, making it impossible for him to be anything but. His hand touched her warm, smooth thigh, lightly stroking her skin, sending another explosion of response through his already electrified body. "Kiss me again, Liza." She did, arching her back, giving him the chance to plant kisses on her throat and in the V-neck of the dress, inhaling the feminine scent and licking the delicious skin. Unable to resist, he dragged one hand up her side and curled around to brush her breast, getting a soft sigh of pleasure in response. And a splat of rain on his face. And another hit his hand where it rested on her thigh. "There's the rain," she said, turning to look up at the charcoal sky, the moon well hidden by thick clouds. "I guess Mother Nature's giving us a message. Time to stop." "Here's what I say to Mother Nature." He reached down to the side of the chaise, patting the leather for the button. "There we go." A low electric hum preceded the awning, which rose from behind them, as if by magic. Liza lifted her head to follow the navy blue canvas as it flattened out over them. "Are you kidding me?" She laughed. "We're on a sun bed, Liza. Sometimes people want shade. Or rain protection." She sat up, straddling him, the white skirt bunched around her thighs, her hair falling back as she looked up at the awning in wonder. "That is...oh my God, _so cool_." She looked beautiful in the newly formed shadows, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, a smile of pure joy across her face, her slender body wrapped around him. "You hiding any other tricks, Nate?" "Well, in case there are any mosquitoes..." He pressed the second button on the panel below him, and sheer gauze netting rolled down from all four sides. That got another sweet squeal of delight. "Amazing!" "So are you," he said gruffly, reaching up to pull her down against him, then eased her on her side so they were lined up on the sun bed. For a few minutes, they stayed very still, looking at each other in the dim light, the steady drumbeat of the rain matching the one in his chest as he let himself be transfixed by her. A breeze fluttered the netting, making her shudder. "Are you cold?" She shook her head. "I'm scared." "Of what? I promise, I swear..." He lifted one hand as if to show her how safe he was. "We can lie here and listen to the rain. I promise, I'm good." She closed her eyes as if the words physically affected her. "Yes, you are. You're so..." She searched for a word, clearly frustrated. "You're not going to like this." He lifted a little from the headrest, concerned. "Tell me anyway." "You're not naughty." He snorted softly. "Stupid word, but tell that to the rest of the world. Anyway, I earned it." "Well, you're not anymore. Not with me. Not now. Not most of the time. You're...nice." That made him laugh. "First time I've ever been called that. But I guess you bring out the nice in me." Which was weird. "I don't know why or how." She smiled. "It's okay to be nice. And it's okay to be..." She rolled a little closer, snuggling into him and looking up. "A little not nice, too." He took the cue and kissed her, slow and soft and, oh, hell, not _nice_. He plunged his tongue and curled it around hers, coaxing a moan from her throat. "Nice and deep," he whispered between breaths. She melted into him. "Very nice." He stroked her side, lightly brushing her breast with his thumb. "Nice and tender." He barely touched her but felt her harden under his thumb. Dipping his head, he suckled her jaw and throat, kissing his way to her earlobe, licking it. "Nice and wet." "Ohhh." Her sigh was pure pleasure, the sound and feel of it on his cheek making his whole body tense. He flicked his tongue all the way down her throat and over her breastbone, suckling her skin for a taste. He filled his hands with her curves, dragging them over her hips to carefully gather her skirt, inching it up so he could touch her skin. When his hand pressed her taut thigh, she eased her body back on top of his, as if neither one of them could resist the temptation to press against each other. "Nice and..." He slid his hand higher and higher, their hips rolling in rhythm as he reached the dip where her cheek met her thigh. "Sweet." "Mmm. Nate..." He stilled his hand. "Too nice for you?" She looked up at him, chaos in her eyes. "I'm dying here." He curled his hand around her bare behind, finding the silky string of a thong, tracing the line of it right...between...her...legs. She was soft and slippery, making him hard and hot. "Too nice," she whispered. "So nice. Oh my God, Nate, don't stop." He wouldn't. Turning her for a better position, he looked at her all mussed from his hands, her lips pink from his kisses. Her eyes lost all their blue-green to the dark, dark promise of arousal. "Let me, Liza. Let me show you how nice I can be. Let me..." She nodded, her breath coming so hard and fast now, she couldn't talk. He wanted to see what pleasure did to her. He wanted to give her everything and take nothing. He didn't stop to analyze that but caressed her and kissed her with all the tenderness and passion he had. She let out a tiny cry, jerking once into his hand, then biting her lip as she looked at him. "Come on, Wonder Woman," he urged. The rain drummed harder overhead, loud enough to drown out her sweet moans of gratification, strong enough to wrap them in a cocoon of water and silk and secret, stolen kisses. "Nate..." She shuddered again, gripping his arms, digging her fingers into his muscles as he slid his finger all the way into her, stroking the wet, warm skin, finally teasing an orgasm from her quivering, out-of-control body. It took a minute for her to catch her breath and release her grip, long enough for him to quell his own arousal because he knew—he just knew—they weren't going any further. "Okay," she finally whispered. "I'll do it." Or maybe they were going further? "You will?" He couldn't stop the smile. "I'd have been willing to wait, but..." "I'll work for you." He blinked, surprise and disappointment colliding. Then he laughed, rocking into her so she could feel how hard that disappointment was. "Probably a good time to make your salary demands, too." "I only have one demand." At her serious tone, his smile evaporated. "Yeah?" "Well, two. Dylan can be in the children's program at the resort." "Done. Easy. What else?" "We can't...I can't..." She closed her eyes. "This sounds really selfish considering the pleasure you just gave me, but I'm not ready for...everything." He didn't answer right away, waiting to hear if there would be a time limit on that one. There wasn't. "Ever?" He wanted to show restraint, and had, but if they worked together, that might be impossible. She sighed and cupped her hand on his jaw. "I need some time to forget some things." "Things in your past?" "No, yours." He frowned, then figured out what she meant. "Carrie?" "I can't fall into bed with a guy she..." She shook her head. "I have to know you for you, not the man she made up in that journal, not the guy in the media, and not what I thought you were. Who you really are. And then..." So he had one more person to prove his worth to. "I like that plan. Start Monday. The sooner you know me, the sooner we'll finish what we just started." She smiled, kissing him and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Will do, boss. Now hold me and tell me something I don't know about you." He cuddled her closer, smoothing her dress and adjusting himself to let the desire abate. "Something you don't know about me. Let me think." "And it can't be anything that I'd read in the paper. A secret." "Okay." He pressed a kiss on her head and confessed, "I've never done that before." She looked up at him, eyes wide. "You're lying." "No, I'm not. I've never completely given someone...that. Not without expecting everything in return." She smiled slowly. "You're right. I bring out the nice in you." Holding that thought, they stayed under the awning until the rain showers passed, kissing, whispering, laughing, sharing secrets and, finally, sleeping in each other's arms until the yacht docked in Naples and they had to say good night. **** **Chapter Eleven** Liza put the caller on hold and looked over at Nate, lying on the sofa, one leg bent, his head propped on his arm, reading a legal document he had resting on his chest. It would be so easy to climb over the desk that separated them and cuddle up next to him and do what they both wanted to do ever since they set up a temporary office in Acacia, the spacious beachfront villa he'd taken over for the business. So far, they'd resisted. But... Heat, familiar and constant and always strong, curled through her at the thought. Of course, she said the only thing she could. "Nate, it's the county commissioner's office on line one." He turned his head to smile at her. "Calling to say the agenda is finalized?" "And to invite you to attend the meeting as an honored guest." "Probably to thank me for the donation of forty-six new live oak trees for the Naples Parks and Rec Department." He rolled up, still grinning at her. "Genius idea, Wonder Woman." She angled her head, still not quite used to his compliments on her work, even though he'd been doling them out for almost three weeks. "Hey, you wrote the check." "But the gesture got us slipped into the County Commissioners' meeting three months ahead of schedule." "I know county weaknesses, it's true." She shrugged, indicating the flashing light on the phone bank. "Take the call, do your thing, and when you're done we can go over the access-road permits." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. "The fun never ends." She laughed. "This _is_ fun. Aren't you having fun?" He leaned closer. "There's a beach twenty yards away, a pool in the back of this villa, and a bed the size of a small country in the master suite. All screaming for _fun_." "Hey. We have a deal." She pointed a finger at his face. "And I've been upholding my end of that deal for twenty days...and nights." The fact that he counted did crazy, stupid things to her insides. The wait was nearly over, and she knew it. Longing looks, purposeful touches, and a couple of smoking-hot kisses after-hours and Liza was fairly certain where this "work relationship" was headed. And she couldn't think of a single reason not to say yes. "Access-road permits are fun." "Okay," he relented. "And then?" And then she'd have to pick up Dylan after the children's program ended. Sighing, she glanced at the clock on her desk. "Take the call, Nate, before they shove us clear into the June meeting." He didn't move, staring so hard it felt like he could see right through to her soul. "You know that middle color in the rainbow?" She tried to come up with a quip but failed, shaking her head instead, no clue where this was going, only that it would be... _nice_. "That kind of magical mix of turquoise and emerald, not quite one, not the other, but still precious and inviting?" He almost closed the space between them, inches away now, the soapy, masculine scent of him tormenting her. "Yeah?" she managed. "That's the color of your eyes." Closer still. "I could look at them for hours." She closed them for a second, almost unable to take the assault when he flirted like that. Was he teasing? Was he serious? Three weeks into the job, and she still couldn't tell. Nor could she even remember the mundane and dreary existence that was the County Clerk's office. Still, she dug for the professionalism he so loved to tear away. "Take the call, Nate. And remember the county commissioner is named Sandra Hutchings, and she has an inflated ego, a tiny attention span, and a fiery temper." "Good to know. God, I'd be lost without you." She laughed. "Oh, and she would like to have her picture with you in _The_ _Mimosa Times_. Don't keep her waiting." "I won't." When he turned into the hall to go to the master suite he used to take calls, he stopped and looked back at her. "No one likes to wait too long." With a wink, he disappeared. For a moment, she rested her chin on her hands, staring at a half-dozen stacks of papers and two neatly arranged files, all labeled and sorted and ready to be tackled. A sensation of pure satisfaction rolled over her. She _loved_ this job. And she...loved...okay, she was pretty damn _fond_ of her boss, too. Taking their attraction to each other up a notch—or _six_ —wasn't a matter of _if_ , it was a matter of _when_. And where...and how. Oh, she knew how. She'd fantasized about how every day and night since they'd docked his yacht in Naples. First, they'd— The soft hum of an electric golf cart and the sweet sound of Dylan's laughter pulled her from her reverie. Having him so close by during the day was certainly a blessing...and a curse. She was never sure when he'd be cruising by on some seashell-gathering adventure or field trip to the gardens. Still, a smile she couldn't hide broke across her face as she rose from her desk to go to the door. Late afternoon sunshine poured in, warming her as much as the sight of the boy she loved dearly. "Aunt Liza!" He practically tumbled out of the cart, followed by his platinum-blond best buddy, Edward Browning. Eddie's mother, Tessa, the resort gardener, was at the wheel, climbing down with one hand on a slightly distended belly. They'd met a few times—enough to know Tessa was the glowingest pregnant woman in history. "We come bearing requests," Tessa said in greeting. "S-L-E-E-P!" Dylan spelled, jumping up and down. He wanted to go to sleep? "O-V-E-R!" cried his little friend. Liza laughed, mostly at their high-fiving on the spelling, coming around to greet Tessa. "What's this about?" she asked. Tessa's dark eyes danced as she eyed the two boys. "They've cooked up an idea, but we need your permission." "A sleepover?" Her skepticism must have been evident because Dylan immediately jumped into a "Please, Aunt Liza" litany that Edward joined until they were both shushed. "You've never gone to a sleepover," she said to Dylan. "And I've never hosted one," Tessa admitted. "But Emma's been invited to a birthday party, so I'm down one child and these two..." She smiled at the boys, shaking her head. "They are inseparable. My husband and I don't live far, in town, and I assure you we'll have them in the sack by eight—" A chorus of "awws" interrupted her. "Or nine," she added with a laugh. "But we'll take care of him, I promise." "I'm not worried about his care, it's just..." She put her hand on Dylan's head. "It's a first for him." "We'll make it special." "Okay—" "Woo hoo!" Dylan and Edward were jumping again, but that wasn't enough celebration, so they started running in circles around the golf cart. "What's all the ruckus out here?" They all turned to see Nate standing in the doorway, trying to look stern, but a smile grew as he watched the whirling dervishes. Dylan came to an instant stop, his face brightening like he'd been handed two scoops of ice cream. "N-A-T-E!" He tore toward Nate, arms outstretched, getting hoisted in the air upon arrival. "I'm going to my first sleepover!" "You are?" He made a surprised face, then looked over Dylan's shoulder to Liza, his expression changing from surprise to something else. Something that made her whole body tingle in anticipation. "Then we'll have to..." _Have a sleepover, too?_ He lowered Dylan to the ground. "Make sure you have a great time." Her heart tumbled around because she knew he was thinking of the great time they'd have. "And maybe I can take your Aunt Liza out for dinner," he added. They hadn't had dinner since the night on the yacht, and she'd kind of ached for another night like that. But Nate had been following the rules and her lead since the day she started working for him. "Oh, you should get a reservation at Junonia tonight," Tessa said, referring to the resort's fine restaurant, run by her chef husband. "Ian's special tonight is veal chops, and they're to die for. And sweet potatoes right from my garden." "Perfect. It's a date." Nate ruffled Dylan's hair, but his eyes were hot on Liza. "As soon as we finish the access-road permits." When he went back inside, Tessa's smile was amused and all-knowing. Were they that obvious? "This is perfect," Tessa said. "Completely," Liza agreed, barely aware that her voice held a sigh of dreaminess to it. "So the rumor mill is true," Tessa mused. "There's more than Bucks business going on in Acacia." Liza felt her cheeks warm. "No, no...he's my boss." She glanced at the closed door. "We just work together." Tessa laughed brightly. "That's what I thought about Ian at one time, too. Now I love his children as my own, and we have another on the way." Liza drew back, surprised. "Edward and Emma are..." "Ian's from a previous marriage, but they're all mine now. And this one on the way." She rubbed her belly, and her eyes twinkled. "I'm living proof that anything is possible. In fact, here on Barefoot Bay, we're starting to think _everything_ is possible." Was it? Could normal, ordinary, not-quite-anything-special Liza Lemanski win the heart of a world-famous billionaire who'd already stolen hers? "That's a lovely sentiment." "It's true!" she insisted and leaned closer to whisper, "And it's obvious he has feelings for you." "It is?" She felt like an eighth-grade girl, but the only person she had to discuss this with was her mother, who couldn't see straight on the subject of Nathaniel Ivory. She'd practically embroidered the towels with their adjoining initials already. Tessa started to round up the boys but took a moment to continue the girl talk. "He seems like a really nice guy in person. Nothing like his public image." "He is different from what you'd expect." "I know you're not asking for it, but my advice? Don't fight whatever's in the air down here. Sometimes the most unlikely people make a great team." A great team. Nate called them that at least twice a day. Could they be? Right now, they were almost...quite...not anything official. But something told Liza that was about to change. After they exchanged phone numbers and Liza kissed Dylan a few dozen times, they drove off, with the two boys sitting on the back of the golf cart, waving like lunatics. Liza stood and watched them rumble away. "Hey, Wonder Woman." A shiver of anticipation worked its way through her body at the low and sexy tone of his voice. She didn't turn, instead taking a steadying breath and trying to consciously hold the moment in her hand. "Yeah?" "It's time." Yes, it was. Very slowly, she turned to see him standing in the doorway, holding up some papers. "Access permits." Smiling, she took a few steps closer, holding his smoldering gaze, aware of each pulse beat in her throat, each strained breath, each spark of electricity arcing through the air. "Access"—she took the papers with one hand and pressed his chest with the other, pushing him back into the villa—"no longer denied." He answered with a slow, deep, hungry kiss as she let the papers flutter to the floor. * * * "It's about time," Nate murmured into the kiss that had them both breathless in under a minute. Liza didn't answer, tunneling her hands into his hair and gripping his head to press their lips harder. She heard Nate kick the door closed and then inhaled sharply when he backed her right into the mahogany frame, blocking her with a body that was as hard as the door behind her. "You're not going to wait for a dinner date, are you?" she asked with a half laugh. "Oh, we'll have dinner. Later." He pinned her arms over her head with one hand, annihilating her mouth and throat with hot kisses. "Much later." He already had her sweater halfway up her torso. "Nate. Here?" If he hadn't been holding her, she'd have probably melted to the floor. "Anywhere you want." He got the sweater over her head, tossing it to the side and making her laugh. But nothing was funny to him. His face was raw intensity, his hands already all over her breasts, his erection slamming mightily into her stomach, making her want to...ride. "C'mon." Still kissing and unsnapping her bra, he walked her across the room, flipping lace and satin strips in the air. He stopped, holding her back to look at her half-naked body, his eyes shuttering as he took her in. "Gorgeous. _Gorgeous_." She tried to laugh, but the chill of desire and air-conditioning made her quiver and reach for his warmth. "We're never going to make it to the bedroom." "Not this time." He closed his hand over her bare breast, dipping his head to kiss and lick, and she automatically bowed her back to offer him everything, dizzy and disoriented. He stepped her backward, and her backside hit a piece of furniture. Some papers shifted. The stapler fell. And the next thing she knew, he had her flat on her desk. A pile of file folders dumped to the ground. "Oh, there went the capital expenditures analysis." She bit her lip and rolled against the crazy hardness of him. He sat up enough to unbutton his shirt and flatten her with another fierce look. "Sorry." He shook off his shirt, his broad chest heaving with the next breath. "No, you're not." He flashed a grin and rocked his hips against her, then came back down for more kissing, more touching and exploring, and something slammed to the floor. "And the zoning surveys hit the dirt." Laughing, he unzipped her jeans. "As they should. Take these off, Liza." She lifted her hips and let him help her slide them down, his head following the route so he could kiss her belly. Squirming on the desk, she gripped his shoulders, digging her fingers in and lifting her head to enjoy the view of him nibbling at her panties. He looked up and caught her eye. "Careful," she said, nodding to the last pile of folders next to his legs. "The investor presentation handouts are about to eat it." He didn't look away as he pulled her panties down her thighs. "So am I." He practically growled the sexy promise. She fought a scream when his tongue slid into her, making her flatten both hands on the desk and send her to-do list flying. She didn't care. The only thing she had to do was...this. Pleasure careened through her, tightening every muscle and firing every nerve ending. Her fingernails dug into her desk blotter as she rose to meet every stroke of his tongue, fast and furious, then slow and deep. Suddenly, he stood, making her open her eyes in a panic. He couldn't stop. But he was yanking off his jeans, pushing down a pair of boxer-briefs and, oh...my. She pushed herself up to appreciate the sight of his manhood. Opening her mouth to speak, she stared. And ached for him— _all_ of him—inside her. "Nate," she finally whispered, reaching to touch him. "I want you." "You got me." Before she could close her fist over him, he slapped his hands on the desk, forcing her back again. "I mean that." Falling back, ignoring a pen cap that jabbed her shoulder blade and the ring of the phone a few inches from her head, she stared up at him, absolutely certain there was more to that statement than sex. "You got me," he repeated, coming closer like he was going to kiss her. But he inched to the side and put his mouth right over her ear. "You got my attention." His breath tickled and teased. "You got my interest. And, Liza, sweetheart, you got my heart." The phone went silent, and so did her head. No quips, no jokes, no comebacks. She had his heart? Neither one of them moved, despite the heat of his hard-on throbbing between her legs, the stickiness of bare chests pressed against each other, and the matching drumbeats in their chests. "What are you saying?" she finally asked, her voice little more than air. "I'm saying..." He lifted up enough to look at her. "That this isn't..." He struggled for the word, and she didn't begin to try and fill in the blanks. "That this is..." He swallowed, searching her eyes, holding her gaze. "That we are..." Finally, she smiled. "I get it. We're a good team." He closed his eyes and returned to the safer place next to her ear, denying her the chance to appreciate the raw honesty in his eyes. "You make me a better man, Liza." She closed her eyes against the sting. "Nate, I..." _Love you_. Could she admit that now? Was it the kiss of death or— "Open the door! I know you're in there!" They both bolted upright at the shock of intrusion, Liza letting out a little cry of surprise. Who could that be? One of his friends? Someone on staff? Who would— A fist—or something wooden—smacked against the door, and the handle jiggled furiously. "Open up, Nathaniel Ivory! I have the DNA tests!" _What_? Liza put both hands over her mouth. Jeff Munson? Was he here to make good on his promise to hurt Nate? Fear and confusion collided, nearly blinding her as she blinked in shock. "Holy shit," Nate muttered, leaping off her and frantically looking for clothes in the mess. Liza rolled off the desk, smashing her hands over her breasts in case whoever it was broke down the door, because they sounded mad enough to do just that. "Let me in!" "All right, all right!" Nate hollered. "Hang on." "Who is it?" she demanded, scooping up his shirt to slide her arms into it for protection. "What is he talking about?" He looked at her, and for the first time, she noticed he'd gone pale...and silent. "Who is it, Nate?" "My grandfather." He stepped into his jeans and gave her a nudge. "Go hide in the bedroom." Her jaw dropped so hard it nearly hit her chest. "Your—" "I will shoot the damn lock, young man." "Go! You don't want to meet him like this." No, she didn't. But... "Did he say he has the—" "Liza!" He barked the word, stunning her into silence. "Go back there." She froze, vaguely aware of the door handle shaking hard again but fully aware that she stood naked but for Nate's shirt over her shoulders. "Please," he added. "This might get ugly." _Get_ ugly? It was already pretty damn unattractive from where she stood. Closing her eyes, she pivoted, stepped over a sea of papers and underwear, then walked around the corner to the bedroom, her head buzzing and her heart still slamming her chest. But she didn't close the door. Instead, she stood stone still and listened as Nate opened the door. "What are you doing here?" "Demanding to take what is mine." It was easy to hear now that it was the voice of a much-older man, accompanied by heavy, uneven footsteps into the room. She cringed, thinking about what he saw. How would she ever— "Where is he?" She put her hand on the doorjamb, frowning. _Where is who?_ "Listen, Colonel—" "No, you listen to me. You were right to send me that test. One hundred percent right. That boy is an Ivory through and through, and there is only one thing to do. We take him home, son. Damn the torpedoes! We take him home." All around her, the world grew darker, shakier, and completely airless. What was he saying? What was he... The question faded, replaced by the obvious answer. Nothing made sense. _Nothing_. Except her worst fears had been realized. The Ivory family was going to take Dylan away from her. **** **Chapter Twelve** " _What_?" It was the best Nate could manage under the circumstances. The intrusion, the news, the plummet from a sexual high to a disaster. "What the hell are you talking about?" The Colonel powered into the room, waving his cane like a scepter, his steel-gray eyes taking in the hot mess, then settling on Nate's barely dressed state. "You call this work?" "I call it... _private_." Which was unheard of in the Colonel's eyes. "What do you mean that boy is an Ivory?" "You called it!" he bellowed, leaning heavily on his cane as he looked down at a jumble of papers. And clothes. He used the end of the cane to lift a pale pink bra by one strap and let it dangle in front of Nate's face. "Is this what you call being a changed man?" Nate closed his eyes and ignored the taunt. "Please tell me what you found out." Except, he already knew. He'd known when he impulsively sent the DNA kit Liza had left on his smaller boat up to his grandfather for private testing. When he left Jeff Munson in Key West, he simply hadn't been as satisfied with the man's signed paper. He'd tried to put it out of his mind, but every time he saw Dylan, he wondered. Sending the DNA test to his grandfather was really to prove the truth to both of them, since the Colonel had already talked about forcing the issue himself. "I found a match right down to the cell matter, son. This young man is part of our family, and we will raise him as ours." Oh, God. His? Dylan was _his_. Nate stole a glance over his shoulder. He couldn't see the bedroom door from where he stood. Could Liza hear this whole conversation? Would she come barreling out here any minute to fight tooth and nail for the child she considered her own? Even though that child was _his_? Nate stabbed his fingers into his hair, swiping it back with a deep sigh. "Look, Colonel, I will handle this." "Like hell you will." Using his cane, he flipped the bra into the air, sending it flying to land on Liza's desk. Nate bristled, swamped by frustration, compounded by an intense and unfamiliar coldness. Because he'd been yanked from sex with a woman he deeply cared about? Or was his grandfather's disapproval leaving Nate cold? "I will handle it," he repeated, keeping his tone low and calm. "Liza has full guardianship—" "Pay her off, get her signature, and..." He looked around, surveying the oversized living room that doubled as a main office. "Where is the boy? I thought he was on the premises." "He's not here. And you can't pay a person for her child, like—" "He's _not_ her child." The older man pounded his cane, drawing his bushy eyebrows together, deepening the crevice between his eyes. "Nathaniel, you can pay a person for anything, and you know it. She'll have a price. When can I see him? I'd like a look at him and so would Mimsy. She's resting right next door at the little villa called Saffron. Nice place, by the way. I like this re—" "No, you can't." He ground out the words, the effort to balance his seething temper with a lifetime of compliance to everything this man wanted. "You can't give someone money and expect them to accept that in exchange for a living, breathing child." "Nathaniel." The Colonel's tone showed he knew what kind of battle was brewing inside his grandson. "I'm disappointed in you." Nate waited for the words to hit their target and make him feel like a failure. But that sensation didn't take hold in his heart. Something else did. A deep, profound, wholly alien feeling that made him want to protect, defend, and support Liza Lemanski...over _anyone_ , including the Colonel. "I don't care if you're disappointed in me." The words surprised him as much as his grandfather. An old gray eyebrow launched north, rising above silver-rimmed glasses. "Excuse me?" "I don't," he said, the reality picking up steam inside him. "I don't care if you withhold your almighty approval or tie up your purse strings or cut me off from family dinners on Sunday night. _I don't care_." The words were so liberating, he almost laughed out loud. "Did you hear that?" Nate asked, raising his voice so someone not in the room had to hear it. "I don't care what you say or do or threaten, _Grandfather_ , because I will not let you hurt Liza or have her...my"— _our_ —"son." "I hear you," the Colonel said, pushing himself off the cane. "And, by the way, a young man from Key West sent me a package in the mail. I was going to throw it away, but I think it might be of interest to some of the private investors you're trying to interest in this little baseball project of yours." His jaw dropped as he stared at a man he thought he loved, a man he thought ruled a family with a velvet fist. But what he saw was a man he didn't want to be like at all. "I'm not afraid of a scandal, Colonel," he said. "But I will fight to the death if you try to take Dylan from Liza." He swallowed. "And me." "I wouldn't care if you wanted to raise him, but"—he waved the cane over the chaos of papers and clothes—"you are clearly not the changed man you claim to be, and I would worry for the boy." "I don't need your worry or your care." Nate closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I really don't need your approval. So, if you don't mind, you can leave now." The Colonel stared him down, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. "Nathaniel, I—" "You can leave now." A slow, sly smile pulled at the older man's face as he made his way across the room to the door, his slightly lame gait more pronounced than Nate remembered.. "Well, son of a bitch, I never thought I'd see the day." "What day?" he asked. "The day I really changed?" The Colonel put his hand on the door and opened it, standing to face the sunshine for a brief moment. "The day you fell in love." Maybe they both happened on the same day. The Colonel stepped outside, and Nate opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again, along with the door. Inside, alone, Nate stood for one second, letting the adrenaline dump through him. Holy hell, he'd stood up to his grandfather, and won. He'd broken that debilitating need for the Colonel's approval, and he could breathe. He'd proved to Liza what he'd been trying to tell her: that he really was a better man. Hadn't she heard? He turned, expecting her to come darting out of the hall, eyes bright with pride, arms extended, her heart soaring like his was. Now they would make love. And talk about Dylan and how they would... But all he heard was silence. "Liza?" He walked toward the bedroom, his pulse ratcheting up. "Liza, did you hear that?" He stepped into the room to see the sliding glass doors that led to the back wide open, the sheer curtain fluttering with the beach breeze. She hadn't heard enough of it, because she was gone. * * * Liza darted across the Casa Blanca parking lot, clutching the too-large sweat pants she'd found draped over a chair in the bedroom. Nate's shirt was buttoned all wrong, so the right side of the collar kept tapping her in the chin, and stones and shells jabbed her bare feet as she ran toward the sanctuary of her little blue Ford Focus. She shouldered her bag, eternally grateful she'd been in the habit of hanging it in the bedroom closet. Who knew she'd have to make an emergency getaway out the back door one day? Twenty more feet. Just twenty more feet and— "Liza!" She froze, recognizing Nate's voice even from across the resort property. Fisting her hands with a grunt, she used everything she had not to turn and look and melt and forgive. Because what he'd done was unforgivable. "Liza, wait!" She powered on to her car, already digging in her bag for keys. "Liza, damn it, don't leave!" With one hand on the door handle and one grasping the sweats that were threatening to eliminate any possible chance of a dignified escape, she turned toward the sound of his voice. He was running full-out, still bare-chested and wearing jeans and no shoes. He seemed to move in slow motion, calling her name, holding out his hand, desperation pouring out of him. "Liza, please wait." He slowed down when he got close enough to stop yelling, catching his breath from the sprint. She shook her head and held up one hand. "Don't, Nate. Don't come at me with explanations and rationalization. You lied to me. You went behind my back and had that test done. And you called in your biggest artillery to get what you want." She squared her shoulders and pointed her finger at his face. "You think some rich old Marine and his brood are going to take my child away from me?" He let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling. "He's my child." Anger and fear ricocheted through her as she whipped all the way around. "You bastard! You would play that card?" "I'm not playing anything, and I'm not a bastard." He tunneled his fingers into his hair, shoving it back. "I had to know." "And not share that with me?" "I had to know," he repeated, his voice taut. "I was going to tell you the test results." "But you decided it made more sense to bring your grandfather in and, in fact, to have him control the test, which really makes me question its validity and...and... _why_ would you do that?" She nearly sobbed out the question, but it didn't matter. She was hurt and confused and furious and sick at heart. No use trying to hide all that. "Because my family always comes first. Always _came_ first," he corrected. "That's how it is, that's how we stay together." "No, that's how you all stay under the control of one old man who has fed the monster with billions of dollars." She huffed out a breath. "What did you do, send him the swab I gave you?" His only answer was a pained expression. "I thought—" "I don't care what you thought!" she fired back. "You could have told me. You could have trusted me. You could have"— _not made me care about you_ —"shown your true colors and been an asshole for the last three weeks." "I _have_ trusted you. And I have shown my true colors." With each word, he came closer, rounding the last car in the lot that separated them. She backed into her car, not wanting the assault of his apologies or kisses or that big bare chest that covered a black heart. "How long did you stay and listen to that conversation?" he asked. "When he asked for Dylan, I left. Oh, maybe I heard the part about paying me off." She choked her sarcasm. "From the king of 'we never pay anyone to get what we want.'" "You should have stayed longer. I sent him away." "Well, he'll be back. No doubt with a legion of lawyers and a bottomless checkbook." "I made him leave, and I won't let him use lawyers or dollars or anything to hurt you. I won't," he insisted. "Not you and not Dylan. I swear." She regarded him for a long time, mesmerized by the pain and sincerity in his eyes. "I've seen that look, Nate. That same look in your eyes." "What look?" "The one that says you're real and you mean this." "I am, and I do." Encouraged, he closed the space between them, inches away now. "When did you see that look?" She tipped her head. "Back there, in the villa." "Because that was real, and I meant what I said." "And you were five seconds and two inches from fu—" He put his finger on her lips, silencing the ugly word. "No." "Um, _yes_." She jerked to the side to escape the burn of his touch, but it didn't work. Her lips were still warm. "Unless you want to give it another name, Nate. All I was about to be was another girl. A notch on your bedpost. Or desk. Or... _limo_." He flinched, and she waited for a jolt of satisfaction, but felt nothing like it. Only sadness. "You're wrong," he said. "I know what it looks like on the surface, but you're as wrong as my grandfather for making assumptions about me. I wish you would give me a chance." He reached out his hand, palm up, the peace offering obvious. If only she could. "Your family is never going away." "And neither is the fact that Dylan is my son, but," he added quickly when he saw the look on her face, "you are his mother in every other way. And that, Liza Lemanski..." He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Makes us family, too." Her chest squeezed so hard she didn't bother trying to breathe. Instead, she reached into her purse and pulled out her keys, turning to the car. Without saying a word, she opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. After she turned on the ignition, she tried to pull the door closed, but he held it open. So she looked up at him, right into his eyes. "You have to answer one question," she said. "Anything." "Which family matters more to you?" He hesitated one second. Just one millisecond, and she knew the answer. Getting a hold of the door, she yanked it closed with a loud bang and backed out of the parking lot to go get Dylan. They'd been so close. So, so close to...love. Almost-but-not-quite love. **** **Chapter Thirteen** Nate put his signature on the final document and checked the clock. He still had twenty minutes to finish before Zeke and Becker showed up and another ten before the reporter came. Grabbing the next file from the pile, he opened to find all the documents labeled and in chronological order. He pushed thoughts of the woman who'd made his life so organized out of his mind. She'd been gone long enough that he knew he had to find another assistant, but he still clung to the hope that every time that door opened, she'd be standing there, blue-green eyes sparkling, both arms out bearing his second chance. A knock kindled life into that hope, but the sound of his friends' laughter crushed it out. He got up to let them in, checking the time once more. "We have twenty minutes," he said to Zeke and Becker when he opened the door. "And I need every one of them to get my work finished. Why don't you guys wait on the beach?" Zeke and Becker did simultaneous double takes at each other. "I'm sorry," Becker said. "I thought we came to Nate Ivory's villa, not a workaholic's. Who are you?" "I'm running a damn operation that you're both deeply invested in, so I'd think even a moron like you, Becker, would want me to work." Becker muscled into the villa. "Give it up and get a damn assistant." Zeke stayed in the doorway, slightly more sympathetic. "No word from her yet?" He shook his head. "But my grandfather has completely backed off, so there's that victory." A hard-won battle, too, keeping the old man from tracking down Dylan and demanding to take him away. But the Colonel finally let go and returned to the Ivory Tower with Mimsy. Behind him, Becker slapped a friendly hand on Nate's shoulder. "You know what you need?" What he needed was the smart, gorgeous, sexy, amazing woman who was raising his son. "I don't drink when I'm working," he replied. "Which is pretty much twenty hours a day now. But the good news is we can have a groundbreaking very soon." "That is good news," Zeke said, finally coming in. "I didn't mean you need booze," Becker finished, undeterred. "You need a grand gesture." Nate laughed. "I know you like those." "Not about what I like, my man. This is about exactly how to tell a woman you love her." He inched out of Becker's touch. "How grand?" "The bigger the gesture, the harder they fall is my experience." He grinned at Zeke. "And in Mr. Nicholas's, too, if I recall from his not-too-distant past." "He's right," Zeke said. "You have to show her you mean business. Do something she isn't expecting. Get her attention and keep it." As the two men settled onto seats in the living room, Nate returned to his chair at the desk that took up most of the middle of the room. "I bet you can't wait to get out of this villa and into an office on-site," Zeke said. Nate shrugged. The villa—and this desk, including all the files—was still a connection to Liza. She knew where he was in case she wanted to— "Hello? Anyone in there?" A woman's voice accompanied a light knock on the door, and Nate hated that his heart actually skipped a freaking beat. But that wasn't Liza. "She's early," Nate said. "My calendar says noon." Zeke was already up, shooting him a look. "You better have an attitude adjustment for this interview," he said, keeping his voice low. "I know _The_ _Mimosa Times_ isn't _The New York Times_ , but we have to make the entire island love us and support this baseball team and stadium. Cultivating a relationship with a local reporter is critical." "Plus, maybe she'll be hot," Becker—the _moron_ —suggested. "And you can hire her to replace the nice girl you scared away." Nate gave him the finger right before Zeke opened the door. "Ms. Simpson?" "Yes, hi. I'm Julia Simpson from _The Mimosa Times_." Becker was right, damn it. She was quite attractive, with long blond hair pulled into a neat clip and cheekbones from here to Sunday. "I know I'm early, but I'm..." She laughed softly. "I'm really excited about interviewing you three for the feature." She was introduced all around, taking a minute to get their names straight, and let out a few nervous laughs before she accepted a cold glass of water and perched on the edge of a chair. She crossed long, shapely legs at the ankle and daintily tucked them as she opened her notebook on her lap. Nate tried to see her as the beautiful young woman she was, probably a week out of journalism school and deliciously adventurous in... _No_. He wasn't interested in other women. He wanted the one he'd had and lost. The one he'd loved and— "Would that be possible?" Julia asked breathlessly. He'd missed the question completely, damn it. Both of his friends looked at him expectantly. Shit, a business question. Of course, he was off in the clouds thinking about Liza. "I know it's asking a lot," she said. "But I really have to have something exclusive and different. I need an angle that no one else is going to have about this project. Something that will show our readers and your new neighbors exactly what you guys are made of." Zeke leaned forward. "We could let you see the blueprints for the owners' box. It's going to be top-notch." She made a face, clearly not interested in blueprints. "A sneak peek at some of the ballplayers we're recruiting?" Becker suggested. "Um, well, the team's a long way off. I was thinking of something about you guys. Something personal." She shifted her gaze to land on Nate. "Your life makes good, you know, publicity." Those angular bones deepened with a blush. "It might be fun to get a little bit deeper in the head of 'Naughty Nate.'" Becker snorted softly, and Zeke actually laughed, but Nate had a little white light pop inside the very head she wanted to get into. He put his hands on the desk and nodded, unable to fight a smile. "Honey, I've got a story that will sell newspapers, go viral, and skyrocket your career." Her eyes lit up. "Really?" Next to her, Becker sat up straighter, his own grin wide as he pointed to Nate. "Now, that's what I'm talking about, Ivory. Grand. Perfectly _grand_." * * * "Excuse me, ma'am, but your little boy..." Liza whipped around, almost dropping the oversized paper towel package she held when she spied Dylan leaning far out of the shopping cart to pull a stream of about six hundred deli numbers out of the dispenser a foot away. "Oh!" She tossed the paper towels into the basket and lunged for the five-foot-long trail of paper. "Dylan. No." "Here, I got that." A man came up next to her, snagging the tickets out of Dylan's grasp. "Thank you." She looked up at him, meeting a kind smile and friendly blue eyes behind serious horn-rimmed glasses. "I'm really...thank you." He flipped off the top of the dispenser and spun the wheel so all the numbers rolled right back into place. "Whee!" Dylan cried out, delighted. "Tough to shop with kids," he said, maintaining eye contact with every word. "I try to get here before I pick mine up at day care." "Oh..." He picked up his own kid at day care and did the grocery shopping. Single? "Yeah, it's a challenge," she said, giving her own smile, even though the whole exchange felt foreign and forced. "I'm Mike." He offered his hand, and she barely touched it, not surprised that contact with a light pole would have conducted more electricity. "Hi, Mike. Thanks again." Dylan saved her by reaching for the number roll again. "Whoops, I better get him out of here. Bye." She pushed the cart quickly away, feeling bad about dissing the fine-looking and hopeful man, but he wasn't... _He wasn't Nate._ Blowing out a breath of self-disgust, Liza maneuvered the cart into the express line, absently placing milk and cereal and bananas on the conveyer belt. How long was she going to moon over the guy, and worry...he'd come and claim his son? So far, for a few weeks anyway, he'd let her be. She'd received a paycheck in the mail after a week, and, thankfully, she got her crappy job back at the County Clerk's office. And every single night, after an evening of bearing pitying looks from her mother, she'd cried herself to sleep, longing for— "N-A-T-E!" Oh, God. "Shhh." She closed her hands over Dylan's tiny shoulders and gave his head a kiss. Even he missed Nate. "N-A-T-E!" He pointed to the right, kicking his legs. Liza's heart rolled around her chest as she looked toward the door, expecting, hoping, _dreaming_ her man would be charging into Publix to save her from a lonely, boring, single existence. Or maybe to take Dylan. But there was no— "N-A-T-E!" Dylan started kicking again, and finally Liza followed his finger to the rack of tabloids next to the checkout. And this time her rolling heart fell into her stomach with a thud. The headline blurred for a moment, forcing her to blink to make sense of it. _Naughty Nate Officially Off The Market: Eligible Billionaire Has Fallen In Love_ "What?" She reached her hands out, her gaze moving to a picture of Nate taken right outside the villa, leaning on the wall, arms crossed—so of course his biceps looked huge—a serious look on his face. "That sound you hear?" The voice came from right behind her, forcing her to glance over her shoulder and see the man named Mike behind her in line. "A million hopeful hearts breaking in pieces." "Including mine," said the woman behind him. "One less eligible billionaire for us to dream about." Slowly, Liza pulled the brightly colored newspaper from the rack, and Dylan's squeals reached a higher pitch as Nate's face got closer. "N-A-T-E! Nate!" Behind her, Mike cracked up. "Sounds like your son knows your guilty pleasures, Mom." She barely smiled, trying to muster up the concentration to read the first paragraph, but nothing would come together like a noun, verb, or sentence. Just snippets and phrases like _hit by a lightning bolt_ and _love at first sight_ and _she brings out the best in me._ "Who?" she demanded, giving the paper a shake. Mike laughed some more, clearly amused by her frustration. "No wonder I struck out," he said. "Your bar is too high." The nosy woman behind him poked her head into the conversation. "The whole story broke in a local paper over on Mimosa Key. And they say one of the tabloids had some old sex tape, but this announcement trumped that news, and they didn't even run it." "I read that," said the woman right in front of Liza, scooping up the bag of groceries she'd just finished paying for. "She's his administrative assistant. Talk about winning the love lottery!" Liza stared at the paper again, heat and hope and something she'd never ever felt before exploding in her chest, making every cell feel...alive. "You know he's living over there in Barefoot Bay," the checker chimed in as she started ringing up Liza's bananas. "In fact, my aunt's going to the baseball groundbreaking thing this afternoon to get a chance to see him." She laughed. "What is it about that guy?" "He's hot," offered the woman in the back. "He's loaded," Mike added. "And he's..." Liza looked at the paper right before she relinquished it to the checker to ring it in. "In _love_." And so, according to her insanely wild heartbeat, was she. Laughing, the checker took the paper and squinted at the picture. "Let me read that. 'Despite the Ivory Glass billions,'" she read in a newscaster tone, "'Nate says the only family that matters to him is the one in his future with a lady he calls a wonder woman.'" She gave an exaggerated eye roll. "Gag me with the cheese, please." "I think it's romantic," said the lady in back. "I think—" Liza whipped around and stopped whatever joke Mike was going to make. "You'd be wrong. And so would you," she said to the checker. Then she pointed to the woman behind him. "But you're right. He's romantic and hot. And I"—she gave an apologetic look to the cashier—"don't have time to pay for this." They stared at her, shocked, but she didn't wait around, pushing the cart fast enough to get a gleeful shriek from Dylan. "Aunt Liza! Where are we going?" "To your daddy," she whispered, scooping him out of the cart. "And we aren't going to almost-quite-not make it there in time." * * * The crowd around the patch of dirt in the central part of Barefoot Bay was sizable but still full of familiar faces to Nate. Zeke and Mandy stood arm in arm while the mayor made a speech. Becker and Frankie held hands, sharing jokes and teasing looks next to him. Several of the resort staff and townspeople had joined in and, of course, there was Julia Simpson, the reporter from _The_ _Mimosa Times_ who'd done such an incredible job with his story, and lots of folks from the local political scene. But no Liza Lemanski. After a few minutes, Nate stopped looking and concentrated on his job, which was to keep this little event rolling. He handed the mayor some facts and figures he'd been drawing up for the past week. He provided remarks for the local architect, too, but Clay Walker Jr., who'd also designed Casa Blanca Resort & Spa, spoke extemporaneously about the new project. As Clay neared the end of his brief speech, Nate mentally checked off what came next, then opened his file for the list of county commissioners' names to thank. Flipping the papers, he didn't see the list. He knew it was in here. He straightened the folder and examined the papers again. Had he forgotten that? Once more, he looked, sensing he had about five seconds before Clay finished and he had to— "It's right here." Two slender fingers reached into the file folder and slid out the list of names. "I put it right behind the commissioner's letter." Nate snagged those fingers, squeezing as if they—and their owner—might disappear in a flash of his imagination. But she didn't. Instead, two beautiful blue-green eyes looked up at him, smiling, shining, and incredibly... _real_. "Liza." He barely breathed the name he'd thought so many times in the last few weeks it felt like the four letters had been tattooed on his heart. "I read the tabloids," she whispered as if she knew the hundred questions in his head. "You really need to be careful what you say to the media." A slow smile curled his lips, a smile he felt it all the way down to his gut. "I told the truth." "You're in love?" Around him, the world faded away. The sights and sounds and worries evaporated as he gave his entire focus to the one thing that mattered. Could he tell her right here and now? Could he _not_? Somewhere, a throat cleared. A woman said, "Aww." And Becker snorted. Only then did Nate look up and realize that Clay had stopped speaking, and everyone gathered around the soft dirt and oversized groundbreaking shovel was staring at him. Nate pulled the list the rest of the way out of the folder and turned to Zeke. "Could you read this list and recognize these people? I'm kind of busy right now." Zeke smiled and walked to the center of the ceremony while Nate closed his eyes with a soft laugh. "Yes," he finally answered her question. "I'm in love." Her eyes widened along with her mouth, opening to a sweet little O that he desperately wanted to kiss. "What about you, Wonder Woman?" For a long time, she didn't answer, holding his gaze and letting the air between them crackle with expectation. "I am, too," she whispered. He couldn't wait any longer. Pulling her into him, he kissed her mouth with all the pent-up certainty that had been in his heart since she drove off and left him shattered. Huge applause broke out, along with plenty of hoots and hollers. "I have a feeling," he mouthed into the kiss, "that isn't for the county commissioners." She laughed and folded into him, wrapping her arms around him while they listened to Zeke announce that it was time for the first shovel of dirt. Holding Liza's hand, Nate walked forward and picked up the gold-painted spade, cameras humming and snapping all around. Holding the shovel over the dirt, he glanced around, then settled on the only face in the crowd that mattered to him—the woman at his side. "I've never been more happier to be part of a great team," he announced. As he stuck the shovel in the soft dirt, another cheer rose as he tossed the dirt to the side, one voice louder than the rest. "D-I-G! Dig, dig, dig!" Dylan's little legs were flying, but Liza's mother had a good grip on him, holding him in the back of the crowd. Nate gestured him over. "C'mere, buddy!" Paulette let him go, and Dylan shot through the crowd straight to Nate, falling in the soft dirt the minute he reached it. That caused another eruption of crowd noise and cameras snapping, but all Nate saw was the beautiful face of his child. Without thinking, he dropped to his knees, and Dylan reached up and threw filthy hands all over him, smearing his white Polo with dirt. "Dylan!" Liza laughed, kneeling next to both of them. "N-A-T-E!" he cried, smacking his hands on Nate's chest, making him howl with laughter. "You know what I have to teach you, kid?" "Not to rub dirt on nice white shirts?" Liza suggested. He shook his head. "Another word to spell." He leaned closer to Dylan to whisper. "D-A-D." Next to him, he heard Liza's sweet sigh of contentment, an echo of everything he felt right then. He put his arm around her and squeezed both of them with everything he had. "It'll go great with M-O-M." Dylan threw a joyous handful of dirt into the air, letting it rain down all over the new Ivory family. * * * Can't get enough of Barefoot Bay? Stay tuned for the next trilogy full of fun and romance barefoot-style. Introducing the Barefoot Brides...three bridal consultants who've set up their destination wedding business on the shores of Barefoot Bay. While they're busy planning happily ever afters for their clients, they just might find one of their own! Here's a sneak peek at _Barefoot in White_, the first Barefoot Brides novel! _Excerpt from_ **Barefoot in White** "This one..." Willow sniffed her phone. "Yep, this one smells..." She sucked in a breath so deep it quivered her nostrils. "...like a whole bunch of trouble." "Her texts stink?" Gussie looked up from her place on the floor, where she sat surrounded by about a hundred different swatches of fabric. "Like Limburger in the sun." Willow exhaled and scrolled through the last five messages from the high-maintenance bride-to-be, clearing her throat to imitate this ass-pain of a bride. "My MOH and I will arrive at Casa Blanca on the fourth to do a full resort inspection and interview the wedding planning team, please include all amenities, especially all spa treatments." "So, no groom?" Gussie asked with a derisive snort. "Just the bride and maid of honor to do a resort review and planning session? Sounds like an excuse for a girls' weekend of pampering and freebies, then they'll probably end up holding the wedding at a different resort." "I doubt she'll find a place that fast." Willow kept reading. "Oh, this is my personal favorite. 'Our villa must have two bedrooms and baths with direct ocean view.'" She rolled her eyes. "Can she not read a map of Florida to see that Barefoot Bay is on the Gulf of Mexico, not the Atlantic Ocean?" "I don't know if she can read a map, but I can tell you from the swatches she sent, she's color-blind." She waved some flesh-toned material. "Oh, yeah. How are you doing with her 'all tones of sand' color palette selections?" Gussie lifted a section of pale lace, the material barely covering the purple bangs of today's colorful wig. "You call this a palette? I call it beige, a dull and dangerous state of mind." "Told you. This..." She squinted at the bride's name again. "Misty Trew is trouble." Willow locked the screen and set the phone on her desk. "Not only does she come with no referral, but who chooses a destination resort a month before the wedding?" "Someone pregnant," Gussie suggested. "Or someone the last bridal consultant dropped." "Or someone"—the third member of the Barefoot Brides wedding planning team popped into the office doorway, her whole face covered by a giant gift basket—"with a mongo budget who can get what they want." Ari inched the basket to the side, her midnight eyes and jet-black hair contrasting the cream-colored bow around the cellophane wrapping. "Which is why I made this over-the-top welcome basket. Any volunteers to take it over to their villa? Bride and maid arrive in a few hours." Willow pushed back and stood. "I'll go. I need the exercise." Ari choked softly. "Says the woman who ran two miles this morning." "Should have done four," Willow said as she took the basket, eyeing the mouthwatering contents. "Especially if I knew I'd be left alone with this box of truffles." She caressed the cellophane, giving a playful gasp when her fingers found an open seam. "Ooh, easy access, too." "As if you'd touch a truffle," Ari teased. "I have my moments. And our bride-to-be has a long list of demands, er, requests she sent, so I better make sure Artemisia is fully stocked right down to the Rosa Regale champagne that is, and I quote, ' _The only thing I can possibly drink_.'" "Spike it with Prozac while you're over there," Gussie suggested. Laughing, Willow gathered the basket to her chest and headed out of the Casa Blanca Resort & Spa administration area where Barefoot Brides had its one-office headquarters. The upscale resort hummed with the activity of a typical Friday morning, gearing up for a busy weekend in Barefoot Bay. Outside, the sun was high enough to make the gulf— _not the ocean_ —sparkle turquoise, the water laced with white froth on a picture-perfect late-April morning. Bright yellow umbrellas spilled over the sand like lemon drops in the sunshine. Willow chose the shady red-brick path that cut through the resort and led to each of the private villas, all named for different North African flowers in keeping with the Moroccan-inspired architecture. With each tap of her feet on the walkway, she let herself slip deeper in love with this piece of paradise. They had to make this work, no matter how many high-maintenance brides put them through the wringer. Pooling their individual wedding consultant businesses to form Barefoot Brides had been her idea. The three of them moving here to run destination weddings at Casa Blanca was not only a unique selling point for clients...it was the key to Willow's personal happiness. And she was happy, she reminded herself, humming a little, as though that soundtrack would prove the very thought to be true. So very happy and healthy and three thousand miles from California. New woman, new life, new everything. Happy, happy, happy. The humming might be a little over-the-top, though. Instead, she inhaled the briny bay air, stopping at the wrought iron gate that opened to Artemisia. Positioned on a rise, and angled so that the patio and pool faced the Gulf of Mexico, this butter-yellow villa was one of Willow's favorites on the property. Setting the basket on the terra cotta steps that led up to the front door, she pulled her resort ID that doubled as a master key out of her pocket, unlocked the door, and scooped up the goodies to go inside. The living area was darkened from sunshades on the windows, cool and quiet, with the welcoming aroma of sweet gardenias left by the Casa Blanca cleaning staff. Heading to the kitchen, Willow froze mid-step at the sound of...was that running water? No. A footstep? She listened for a minute, heard nothing, then— "Will ya...will ya...be my girl?" Singing. Someone was singing. Well, more like howling. Woefully off-key. "Gotta know if it's real, gotta know it's forevah!" Willow's heart dropped so hard and fast the basket almost went with it. Was this some kind of joke? _That song_? That crappy, tacky, mess of metal that...that _pretended_ to be a love song and paid for college and cars and everything else she'd had? No one at this whole resort, on this island, or, hell, in the whole state of Florida, except for Ari and Gussie, could possibly know— "No foolin' around, for worse or for bettah!" Son of a bitch, who'd found her out? Did Ari or Gussie tell someone that Willow's father was a rock 'n' roll household name? They'd _promised_ not to. Gripping the basket so tight she could crack the wicker, she marched into the hallway that separated the two bedrooms, calling out, "Excuse me!" "Will ya...will ya...be my..." "Hey!" She lowered the basket to peer over the top and...oh. _Oh_. Back. Ass. Muscles. Ink. Ass again. It deserved a second look. " _Girrrrl_!" Tanned, muscular arms whacked the air, and a dark head of wet hair shook, sending droplets all the way down to...oh, really, that rear end was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. "Come and take it, don't ya fake it, we can make—" She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. The words caught in her throat, lost as her gaze locked on the bare-naked man air-drumming like a raving lunatic in the middle of the bedroom, totally unaware she stood behind him. "Luh-uuuuve..." He destroyed the note, and not in the good way her father intended when he wrote the song. No, Donny Zatarain would probably weep if he heard his signature rock anthem being butchered by this idiot wearing nothing but noise-canceling headphones. "Excuse me!" His arms never missed a beat of the drum solo she had memorized before she was five years old, each stroke tensing and bulging muscles she hadn't even known existed. She opened her mouth to call out again, but that was a waste of time. Anyway, this particular feast for the eyes was way too good to pass up. "Will ya, will ya be my _girrrrrl_?" But that song _had_ to stop. She reached into the basket and grabbed the first thing her fingers touched: a nice ripe Florida orange. Yanking it out, she lobbed it as he hit the high C on "girl," except he didn't come anywhere near C, and the orange didn't go anywhere near him. Still, he spun around, jumping into a wide, threatening stance, both arms out like a warrior ready to attack. She blocked her face with the basket, peeking through the top spray of cellophane, silently thanking Ari for choosing clear. Whoa, that was a big...man. "What the..." he muttered after a second, whipping off the headset. "I didn't hear you come in. You can put that down out there. Thanks." She didn't move. Not even her eyes, which were riveted to...his...his...him. "Thanks," he repeated, the word tinged with impatience. "You can leave now." What if her client had come face-to-face with this? With that exposed...giant...breathtaking... She'd think this took "welcome package" to a whole new level. "No, _you_ can leave, because you are not in the right villa," she said. He scowled. Well, she assumed he scowled. It was difficult to see his face because she couldn't stop looking at the rest of him. "I'm in the right villa. Isn't this Art..Arte...some flower that starts with an A?" Was she in the wrong place? No, of course not. _Get a grip, Willow._ He was just a naked man—okay, an exceptionally stunning naked man—and she had a job to do here. Which was to get him out of the villa. "Artemisia," she supplied, her arms starting to burn from holding the basket high enough to cover her face but still see. "And, yes, you _are_ in the wrong villa, because we have guests booked to arrive soon, and you're not one of them." He turned his hands skyward in a less threatening gesture, not that his hotter-than-a-thousand-suns body wasn't threatening enough. "Yes, I am," he said. "And if you will please turn around, miss, and leave that in the living room, we're cool." "No, we are not cool." There was an understatement. "Because I'm pretty sure you have more, um, body hair than the bride or maid of honor we're expecting." He took a step closer, and she hoisted the basket high enough to completely cover her face. "Man," he said "Excuse me?" "I'm a man." With two hands, he lowered the basket. "As you've obviously noticed. _Man_ of honor. Not _maid_." The words registered, but not the meaning, because she was face-to-face with his broad chest and wide shoulders and a deep-purple tattoo of...oh, really? Was this God's idea of a joke? That was the earth and star on the cover of _Zenith_ , the number-one best-selling Z-Train record of all time. "Really?" "Really. I'm the man of honor in Misty Trew's wedding." His tone was a mix of waning tolerance and growing amusement. She finally lifted her eyes, finally coherent enough to process what he'd said, and realize the mistake was hers. "I get it," she whispered, meeting cocoa-colored eyes as rich and inviting as the truffles in her arms, and a mouth that could be forgiven for whatever sour notes he'd hit with it, and... Once more, the world slipped out from under her, this time because recognition nearly buckled her knees. "You're..." Her throat closed. "The man of honor." "No, you're..." The one who...the boy who...no, now the man who...crushed her spirit. "A male version of the maid." "You're..." Nick Hershey. "Naked," he supplied, adding a slow, sexy, sinful smile. "But you're not." She clung to the basket as if it were the last logical thing on earth because right now, it was. "I'm not..." How long had it been? Ten or eleven years since she'd lived in a dorm at UCLA? And he'd been right down the hall. "Thinking straight." "Clearly." He laughed and reached for the basket. "Here, let me take your junk so you can stop staring at mine." Placing the basket on the dresser, he held up a hand. "Just a sec. I'll get your tip." "No tip, I'm not with the resort." The rote answer fell out of her mouth as he took a few steps, forcing Willow to stare some more at that round, hard handful of Nick Hershey's world-class ass before he disappeared into the en suite. "That ought to be illegal," she murmured on a sigh. "So should breaking into a hotel room," he replied. "I wasn't expecting...anyone. Or at least, not a man." Buck-naked. And she sure as hell hadn't been expecting the guy she'd tried to give her virginity to one slightly tipsy night after finals. _Tried_ being the operative word, because he... A dose of shame and a splash of self-pity mixed into a cocktail of humiliation, rising up to choke her. He'd turned her down cold and flat. Willow rooted for a coherent thought, trying to center on the present. The bride was from New York. Nick was from California. How was it even possible that he was standing here in Mimosa Key, Florida? It didn't matter. He was here, and a key member of the wedding party she was coordinating, so Willow would have to maintain professionalism and get control. She closed her eyes, willing her body and brain to get in line, the way she always did when she wanted to be stronger than whatever temptation or distraction threatened her well-honed control. "So, you're a friend of Misty's?" she asked. "Not exactly. Her brother is supposed to be here, but he's still deployed." He stepped back into the room, a towel wrapped around his hips, tied low, exposing a trail of dark hair that ran from his belly button down to his...no, no one could ever call what she'd just seen _junk_. "I'm doing him a favor and acting as Misty's second-in-command." "She doesn't have a girlfriend to be the maid of honor?" His brow quirked. "Have you met Misty?" he asked. "No, not yet." "Well, you'll understand when you see her. She's a model," he said, like that explained it. And, having been raised by one, it kind of did. "She's not exactly swimming in female companionship." He crossed his arms and took another long, slow look at her, his gaze leaving a trail of heat, followed by goosebumps, and more heat. Still not even the slightest shadow of recognition. No surprise there. Very few—actually none—of the people who knew her in college would recognize Willow Ambrose as Willie Zatarain. Not even someone who'd always said hello and made a point of being kind to her...but not _that_ kind. Not kind or even drunk enough to sleep with a woman who outweighed him by more than a hundred pounds. That was then, and this was...getting awkward. "You know," he said, as if suddenly aware of how much time had passed while they looked at each other. "In the military, there's a rule that once you've seen someone naked, they get to see you naked." Suddenly, a flash came back to her. Nick, friendly and even flirtatious when they were in college. His voice—at least when he wasn't singing—still had that smooth, silky quality that poured over her like hot fudge on cold ice cream. And like sundaes, he'd always been a temptation. But Willow had long ago learned how to conquer temptations, hadn't she? "Good thing I'm not in the military, then. I get a pass." The vaguest hint of disappointment darkened his eyes, giving her a surprising jolt of satisfaction. "Hey, can't blame a guy for trying. Lieutenant Nick Hershey." He extended his hand for a shake. "You don't work for the hotel, so are you one of the planner girls?" "The planner girls?" She coughed a soft laugh, mostly to cover the certainty that he didn't remember her. The question was, should she refresh his memory? See the look of utter and abject shock on his face? Endure the questions, the litany of congratulations, and the embarrassment for both of them? "Sorry, that sounded demeaning as shit, didn't it? I meant are you working for Misty as her wedding consultant?" "Yes." She finally lifted her hand to slide into his, fighting a shudder when his warm, large fingers closed over hers. "And you're..." he prompted. "I'm..." _A girl you knew a long time ago._ Not that she could blame him. Most days, she didn't recognize herself. "Willow Ambrose." "Willow." He let the word roll around on his lips, tasting it, nodding as if he liked it a lot, smiling as though meeting her for the first time. Well, wasn't that why she'd ditched the shortened nickname and lopped off her world-famous last name? "The pleasure is...well, I guess the initial pleasure was yours." He winked, and it hit her heart like a red-hot spark. "Not the singing part," she teased. He laughed, a low rumble in his chest that she _knew_ could curl toes, melt hearts, and vacuum up phone numbers. "I suck, I know. But that's how I relax. Does your job mean I'll be seeing a lot of you this weekend?" The little bit of hope in his voice tweaked her heart, still not grasping the fact that _he_ was flirting with _her_. "Depends on how much wedding planning you and the BTB are going to do." "BTB? Wait, don't tell me. Bride That Bitches?" It was her turn to laugh. "Bride To Be, but your version is often dead-on, too. I thought you and Misty weren't going to be here for a few hours." "We came from different places, and I got bumped to an earlier flight, and she's...somewhere." He put his hands on his narrow hips, the move accentuating his chest and pecs and stunningly cut abs. "Want to show me around until she gets here?" Could she...not tell him? The thought landed in her head with a thud. It would be dishonest not to tell him they'd known each other a dozen years...and a hundred and twenty pounds ago. Except, he'd known Willie Zatarain, the fat girl in Sproul Hall who had few friends and famous parents. He didn't know Willow Ambrose. And by the way he was looking at her, he wanted to. The powerful, dizzying, irresistible pull of temptation tugged at her insides. This time, just this one time, temptation kicked her ass. "Yes," she said softly. "I'll show you around." Get the first novel in the Barefoot Brides trilogy, _Barefoot in White_ , now! **** **Want to know more about Roxanne St. Claire's books** **and the whole Barefoot Series?** **** **Here's where to go:** 1. Sign up for the newsletter! 2. www.roxannestclaire.com – all the latest news, blog posts, excerpts, and contests 3. Like the Facebook Page! – fun tidbits, hot guys, cute dogs, snippets and lots of contests! 4. Join the Rocki Roadies! – This street team/discussion page on Facebook will put you in direct daily contact with Roxanne St. Claire and help you qualify for review copies, cover reveals and inside information about all the books 5. Follow me on Twitter and Instagram **** **All Books Set in Barefoot Bay** **The Barefoot Bay Billionaires (200 page short novels)** SECRETS ON THE SAND (always FREE!) SEDUCTION ON THE SAND SCANDAL ON THE SAND (Note: All three Billionaires are also available in a specially priced boxed set called THE BAREFOOT BILLIONAIRES!) **The Barefoot Bay Brides (400 page novels)** BAREFOOT IN WHITE BAREFOOT IN LACE BAREFOOT IN PEARLS __ **Barefoot Bay Undercover (novels coming in 2015)** BAREFOOT BOUND (The Undercover Prequel – free to newsletter subscribers) BAREFOOT WITH A BODYGUARD BAREFOOT WITH A STRANGER BAREFOOT WITH A BAD BOY Buy links, excerpts, character descriptions and release information about these and Roxanne's extensive backlist of more than forty titles can be found at www.roxannestclaire.com or by subscribing to the newsletter: http://www.roxannestclaire.com/newsletter.html **About the Author** Roxanne St. Claire – Biography Roxanne St. Claire is a _New York Times_ and _USA Today_ bestselling author of more than thirty novels of suspense and romance, including three popular series ( _The Bullet Catchers_ , _The Guardian Angelinos_ , and _Barefoot Bay_ ) and multiple stand-alone books. Her entire backlist, including excerpts and buy links, can be found at www.roxannestclaire.com. In addition to being a six-time nominee and one-time winner of the prestigious Romance Writers of America RITA Award, Roxanne's novels have won the National Reader's Choice Award for best romantic suspense three times, and the Borders Top Pick in Romance, as well as the Daphne du Maurier Award, the HOLT Medallion, the Maggie, Booksellers Best, Book Buyers Best, the Award of Excellence, and many others. Her books have been translated into dozens of languages and are routinely included as a Doubleday/Rhapsody Book Club Selection of the Month. Roxanne lives in Florida with her husband and two teens, and can be reached via her website, www.roxannestclaire.com or on her Facebook Reader page, www.facebook.com/roxannestclaire and on Twitter at www.twitter.com/roxannestclaire.

Thomas Ruckle Early life Ruckle was born in Ireland and, having moved to Baltimore, Maryland, he became a sign painter and house painter. It is likely that he had very little, if any, formal training as an artist. War of 1812 Ruckle fought in the Maryland Militia during the War of 1812, and took part in the Battle of North Point, during which the Maryland Militia under General John Stricker were able to hold up the British advance long enough to secure the successful defense of Baltimore. Ruckle served as a Corporal with the Washington Blues, a company of the 5th Maryland Regiment. Ruckle's paintings The Battle of North Point, and The Defense of Baltimore were painted shortly after the events they describe, and are now in the collection of the Maryland Historical Society. The latter was included in an exhibit of American battle painting at the Museum of Modern Art in 1944. Family life Ruckle's son Thomas Coke Ruckle (1811–1891) was also a painter. He received a formal training in fine art at the Royal Academy in London from 1839 to 1841. On his return to Maryland he became a successful portrait painter, working out of a studio in Baltimore St. He also worked as an illustrator, creating a series of scenes of the American West, and also a number of drawings for a volume titled Early History of Methodism in Maryland, published in 1866.

Nagorno-Karabakh and seven adjacent regions are internationally recognised territories of Azerbaijan but have been occupied by Armenia following a 1988-94 war that claimed an estimated 30,000 lives and displaced hundreds of thousands of people. A ceasefire was called in 1994, but decades of internationally mediated negotiations with the involvement of the OSCE’s Minsk Group have failed to result in a resolution. The Minsk Group is co-chaired by France, Russia, and the United States. “The co-chairs from Russia, the US and France work closely together. They have already met with the leaders of Armenia and Azerbaijan, and new contacts are being prepared with foreign ministers,” Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov told a joint press conference with the OSCE Chairman-in-Office, Slovak Foreign Minister Miroslav Lajčák. He also said that the OSCE Minsk Group co-chairs can only help create conditions for dialogue on the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, Azeri agency Trend reported on Tuesday (19 February). Russia is officially the military and political ally of Armenia, member of the Moscow-led Eurasian Economic Union. Oil- and gas-rich Azerbaijan has no affiliations and tries to have balanced relations with all major geopolitical players. “Considering that the new government in Armenia has been formed quite recently, it will certainly take some extra time to understand how intensively and how deeply the settlement process can be developed at this stage. I repeat, once again: the co-chairs and the OSCE can only help create conditions for dialogue, but decisions, of course, must be made within the dialogue, within the direct negotiations between the parties,” Lavrov said. Since Nikol Pashinyan became prime minister of Armenia, a thaw in relations between the two countries, which are technically at war, has become visible. Armenian media reported that Lajčák will visit the Karabakh conflict zone and was quoted as saying that the visit is scheduled for early March. Before that, Lajčák will visit the two countries’ capitals: Baku and Yerevan. “Slovakia supports the existing framework for resolving the issue. We fully support the OSCE Minsk Group Co-Chairs,” Lajčák said. Last week, the vice-speaker of the Azerbaijani parliament, Bahar Muradova, said that “a certain revival” had been observed in the negotiation process on the settlement of the conflict at the end of 2018, as well as this year. But Muradova warned against “attempts by some external forces to increase their efforts in a completely different direction”. “Even those who claim the opposite see this obvious fact,” she said. “However, the task of some external forces is to change the agenda in order to distract us from our most important goal,” she said. Armenian press reported that on 18 February, at the invitation of “Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of South Ossetia” Dmitry Medoyev, a delegation of “the Republic of Artsakh” (occupied Nagorno-Karabakh), headed by Foreign Minister Masis Mayilian, arrived in the Republic of South Ossetia on a working visit. South Ossetia is a Georgian territory that remained occupied, together with Abkhazia, by Russia, following a short Russia-Georgia war in 2008. The list of countries recognising Abkhazia and South Ossetia is very short and mostly includes friends of Moscow, such as Venezuela, Nicaragua and Syria. Moscow has created several “frozen conflicts” with the objective of being able to keep its influence in former Soviet republics. Nagorno Karabakh and surrounded districts are recognized part of Azerbaijan Republic. So separatist regme’s “delegations’ visits are useless and illegal. Beceuse nobody recognizes separatist regime. Armenia has to to follow international law especially 4 resolutions of UN Security Council. Nagorno-Karabakh was historically and always the territory of Azerbaijan. Armenia occupied those territories. And it brazenly claims that Karabakh is Armenia. This is a lie. The problem is that the mediators demonstrate equal attitude for both Armenia and Azerbaijan, which is a wrong position. You can’t talk with the same tone with the aggressor – Armenia and the victim – Azerbaijan. Armenia must be pressured to follow demands of resolutions of international organisations. #madridprinciples I guess Armenia agreed de-occupation 5 regions of Azerbaijan. If it is so it is really big progress in terms of peace resolution. Occupied territories will be liberated and returned to Azerbaijan anyways. Questionable is the matter of restoration of social justice for Azerbaijani people who suffered all these years. I eager for the court proceedings over the leaders of mass civilian killings in Karabakh, and the first is ex-president of Armenia Serzh Sarkisian.

1. Field of the Invention The present invention relates to an image pick-up apparatus, which can be used for a digital camera. 2. Description of the Related Art As a hand shake preventing mechanism used in digital cameras for preventing or compensating a hand shake due to movement of a camera body at still image shooting is known, for example, an arrangement provided with an image pick-up lens system whose optical system is arranged movably, or an optical system (variable apex angle prism) which is optically movable, to make an image location move on an image pick-up element (to move an optical axis) while the image pick-up element is being exposed to photograph a subject. Meanwhile, another arrangement is known, that makes the image pick-up element itself move while the image pick-up element is being exposed. In general, to control movement of the image location and/or the image pick-up element itself, the digital camera is provided with two sensors disposed respectively in the horizontal and vertical directions to detect the direction of shake. The camera controls such movement of the image location or the image pick-up element based on the detection result. (Refer to, for example, Japanese Laid-open Patent Application No. 2004-348147.)

. A study concerning 5 years of activity at the Maternity of La Piti, has shown differences in the population of pregnant women after the age of 40: decreased absolute number, relative increase of primiparous women, improvement of the socio-economic level, resulting in a decreased maternal and fetal pathology. The perinatal mortality remains almost 3 times higher than for the overall population.

The Australian Communications and Media Authority has published a final set of terms, conditions and prices for the auction of spectrum for future mobile data services, and given mobile carriers until January 24, 2013 to be part of the action. Today the ACMA set a reserve price of $0.03 per MHz per head of population for the auction of the 2.5 GHz band. Communications Minister Stephen Conroy had previously set a reserve price of $1.36 per MHz per head of population for the “waterfront” 700 MHz band, which has to date been used for the provision of analogue television services. Telcos have labelled the price as “unworkable”. The two bands up for auction – the 700MHz band (nine lots of 2 x 5 MHz between 703MHz and 803 MHz) and the 2.5 GHz band (14 lots of 2 x 5MHz between 2500MHz and 2690MHz) – will go under the hammer in April 2013. The bands are being auctioned together as the former provides excellent range and penetration within buildings and the latter provides extra capacity in highly populated areas such as metropolitan cities (Canberra, Adelaide, Brisbane, Darwin, Hobart, Melbourne, Perth and Sydney). The latter also includes three bands for additional capacity in regional and remote Australia. Telcos will bet in a combinatorial clock auction format for spectrum licenses that last 15 years from January 1, 2015 (for the Digital Dividend band), October 1, 2014 (for most of the 2.5 GHz band) or February 1, 2016 for two unique lots within the 2.5 GHz band in Perth and regional Western Australia. The Minister has also set ‘spectrum caps’ or ‘competition limits’ at 25MHz of paired spectrum (50MHz total) in the 700MHz band and 40MHz of paired spectrum (80MHz total) in the 2.5 GHz band. This means that no single carrier can be licensed for more than 55 percent of the 700 MHz band or 57 percent of 2.5 GHz band. Today the ACMA released documents [pdf] that revealed the minimum revenue the Government could expect to earn if telcos meet these reserve prices. The reserve price for the digital dividend band would generate $311 million per lot, which would earn the Australian Government a minimum of $2.8 billion, plus close to $7 million for the 2.5GHz band. Telcos must pay a non-refundable application fee of $25,000 by January 24, 2013 to bid for any of the spectrum. By March 21, 2013, they will also be asked to pay refundable “eligibility fees” (roughly one-tenth of the reserve price for the Digital Dividend spectrum and half the reserve price of the 2.5 GHz band). These fees are only refunded if the bidder wins no spectrum. The ACMA has also been granted the right to withhold eligibility fees if it feels bidders have colluded or breached confidentiality rules. The Auction guide [pdf] warns telcos not to collude on price to rig the auction, and the regulator will seek signed disclosures from each party to this affect before bidding begins. Parties found to have colluded have been warned that they can be stripped of the spectrum they successfully bid for. The Auction Guide also states that the ACMA can vary its terms and dates at any time should the process not meet the Government’s requirements or should there be delays in ‘clearing’ existing use of the 700 MHz band (i.e. if broadcasters have not yet moved off the spectrum). The regulator will advise what it intends to do with any unsold spectrum after the auction process is completed. Should television broadcasters free up digital dividend spectrum earlier than expected, winning bidders will be able to write to the Minister for Communications to get their slice of the action earlier. Bids for spectrum will be made online using 128-bit SSL-encrypted messaging on a web site protected using a username and password supplied by the ACMA. The ACMA asked that bidders ensure they are have installed the latest updates for their operating system and browser “to maximise protection against potential security vulnerabilities”. They have also been asked to immediately inform the ACMA of any data breach encountered during the auction process.

1. Field Of The Invention The present invention relates to a construction device and more particularly to such a device which is useful in securing work objects to concrete foundations and the like operating in one attitude precisely to position an anchor member for embedding in the concrete at the time the concrete is poured and in a second attitude to secure the work object, such as a post, column, framing, or the like, to the anchor member after the concrete has been poured. 2. Description Of The Prior Art It is frequently necessary in construction to secure structures such as posts, columns, pillars, framing or other work objects on concrete foundations or similar structures. Prior art practice calls for bolts, conventional brackets, or the like to be embedded in the concrete at the time the concrete is poured for use thereafter in securing the work objects to the foundation. This practice presents considerable and heretofore unresolved difficulties with conventional devices since precise positioning of such bolts or brackets is essential if the work objects are to be precisely positioned and properly mounted. Nowhere is this problem more acute than in home and building construction. Conventional practice calls for exterior wall frames to be assembled on the ground adjacent to the concrete foundation and subsequently to be erected on the foundation by the extension of bolts, embedded in the concrete, through holes drilled in the frames. Since no convenient means exists for precisely positioning the bolts, they are often not properly positioned. Since the bolts project above the upper surface of the foundation, they are frequently bent or otherwise damaged during construction to such a degree as to make them unusable. Furthermore, since the frame is assembled a distance away from the foundation, it is extremely difficult precisely to position the holes for receipt of the bolts. The result is that the bolts are often not used in a manner consistent with acceptable building practices and the framing is weakened by improperly positioned and excessive numbers of holes. In any event, the effect is that of weakening the overall strength of the structure, of increasing the costs of contruction, of delaying construction and of generally interferring with construction. Therefore, it has long been known that it would be desirable to have a construction device which permits the precise positioning of anchor members to be embedded in concrete foundations and the like and which can be used thereafter for rapidly securing work objects to the anchor members without the need for painstaking adjustment or in any way compromising the structural integrity of the structure being built.

I spoke yesterday of a possible debate between Robert Price and Bart Ehrman about the historicity of Jesus. One or two readers gave the details in comments, but I thought I’d put it above the fold if you’re anywhere near Milwaukee. The details of the “Mythinformation Conference” (subtitle: “Is Faith Rooted in Fiction”) are here, and I’ve put the schedule for the one-day meeting below. It’s on OCTOBER 21 of this year and will held at Turner Hall in Milwaukee. Tickets will run you $60 (only $30 if you buy them now; add an unconscionable $100 or $75, respectively if you want to go to the “afterparty”,), but it’ll be worth it to see Price and Ehrman go head to head on whether there was a real Jesus Man. There are other good speakers, too! If you want something to discuss, you can address reader Lou Jost’s claim that the Biblical evidence for Jesus as a historical person is sufficiently strong that the burden of proof is actually on the mythicists to show that he didn’t exist. But how are you going to do that? It all comes down to a subjective judgment on how much you believe the Bible as a source of historical information—at least on Jesus.

Serotonin (5-HT) Receptor Subtypes Mediate Regulation of Neuromodulin Secretion in Rat Hypothalamic Neurons Serotonin (5-HT), the endogenous nonselective 5-HT receptor agonist, activates the inositol -1,4,5- triphosphate / calcium (InsP3/Ca 2+ ) signaling pathway and exerts both stimulatory and inhibitory actions on cAMP production and neuromodulin secretion in rat hypothalamic neurons. Specific mRNA transcripts for 5-HT1A, 5-HT2C and 5-HT4 were identified in rat hypothalamic neurons. These experiments were supported by combined techniques such as cAMP and a Ca 2+ assays in order to elucidate the associated receptors and signaling pathways. The cAMP production and neuromodulin release were profoundly inhibited during the activation of the Gi-coupled 5-HT1A receptor. Treatment with a selective agonist to activate the Gq-coupled 5-HT2C receptor stimulated InsP3 production and caused Ca 2+ release from the sarcoplasmic reticulum. Selective activation of the Gs-coupled 5-HT4 receptor also stimulated cAMP production, and caused an increase in neuromodulin secretion. These findings demonstrate the ability of 5-HT receptor subtypes expressed in neurons to induce neuromodulin production. This leads to the activation of single or multiple G-proteins which regulate the InsP3/Ca 2+ /PLC- and adenyl cyclase / cAMP signaling pathways.

Exhibition "Recent Work" by John D. Morgan opens Friday at Beverley Street Studio School Gallery in Staunton. STAUNTON – The exhibition "Recent Work" by John D. Morgan opens Friday at the Beverley Street Studio School Gallery in Staunton. The opening reception is 5:30-7:30 p.m. with an artist’s talk at 6 p.m. The event is free and open to the public. For the last ten years, Morgan has been working in ‘series’ – inspired by an event or object. In each series, he creates a never-before-seen visual landscape that invites viewers in, challenging them to find their own interpretations and correlations between pieces. He starts with an image or object and begins to add and subtract elements (making decisions on edges, negative space, the interactions of color) until it is a successful finished piece of art. Often the idea of the piece emerges as he works. A recipient of two National Endowment of the Arts grants, Morgan holds a Master of Fine Arts in Painting and Drawing from Virginia Commonwealth University and a BFA from West Virginia University. In addition to managing his gallery, Rivermont Studio, he is an Associate Professor of Fine Art at Sweet Briar College; teaching painting, drawing, assemblage and collage. Morgan's mixed media and sculpture work has been exhibited in New York, Philadelphia, Miami, Charleston and Hawaii and has been collected by museums, corporations and privately. His studio and gallery is located in Lynchburg where he resides with wife, fiction writer Charlotte Morgan. When Friday, Oct. 7. The opening reception is 5:30-7:30 p.m. with an artist’s talk at 6 p.m. Friday, Oct. 7. The exhibit runs through Sunday, Nov. 27. Cost The event is free and open to the public.

A Valero gas Station on Bay Road in Frederica was robbed Saturday night around 10:30pm. Delaware State Police were called for a hold up alarm and met with the clerk who had been locking up when three masked men with handguns forced their way inside and demanded the clerk open the safe. He was not able to open the safe and a struggle began – the clerk was struck with the handle of the gun. The suspects grabbed tobacco products on their way out. Police say the suspects were two black men and one white man. If you have information – contact Crime Stoppers.

Gun control has been one of the Democrats' main policy priorities since retaking the House of Representatives. Gun rights advocates aren't surprised by the move. In fact, many of us anticipated this would be the road they decided to take. Anti-gunners made the assumption Republican Minority Whip Steve Scalise (R-LA) would be on their side. After all, how could anyone possibly stand for the Second Amendment after being a victim of gun violence? (That's their logic, not mine). But Scalise killed their narrative from the get-go when he wanted to testify in front of the House Judiciary Committee. And, naturally, Chairman Jerry Nadler (D-NY) denied the request. Scalise ended up penning a rather scathing letter to the committee with his view on firearms, gun control and the Second Amendment. Hint: It didn't live up to gun control narrative, so anti-gunners are dismissing what he's saying. "They [the Democrats] didn't want to hear all sides. They just wanted to hear the side of people who are promoting gun control. They didn't want to hear the side of people, who like in my case, it was guns, people who used guns properly that saved my life and everybody else on that ball-field," Scalise told Fox and Friends' Brian Kilmead on Tuesday. "It happens all the time in America where people actually use a gun to defend themselves. That is what the Founding Fathers intended. They believed it is not just the government's right that tells you, you can have a gun, it is your own personal right to be able to protect yourself." The real problem that needs to be fixed are law enforcement agencies and government entities dropping the ball. "If [Democrats] want to make the system work better, then there are ways that they can do it. In a lot of these cases with gun crimes, we find out it was federal agencies not doing their job. It was maybe local law enforcement not doing their job," Scalise explained. We've seen it time and time again. Parkland. Aurora, Illinois. Sutherland Springs. "In the Parkland shooting, the FBI had this kid's name in a database where he said, 'I am going to be a school shooter.' They let him go," Scalise explained. "Who has been held accountable for that? Why didn’t they have a hearing with the FBI agents who touched that case and decided we’re going to let him go? Ultimately, he went and became a school shooter. We have to hold people accountable to do their job. Don’t put more laws on the books that make you felon if you loan your gun to your friend." Democrats, if you're going to try to school people who support the Second Amendment, you might want to do a better job of looking at the facts. Government failures run rampant in mass shootings. That's not a partisan take on the issue. That's fact. And you fail to recognize it time and time again. Thankfully, people like Scalise aren't afraid of speaking out and telling their story. You. Will. Not. Silence. Him. Or any of us for that matter.

Adenosine deaminase gene expression is regulated posttranscriptionally in the nucleus. The housekeeping enzyme adenosine deaminase (ADA) shows a large variation in tissue-specific expression ranging from 1 Iu in red blood cells to 880 Iu in thymocytes. We investigated the acute lymphocytic leukemic cell line Molt-4 (660 Iu ADA/g protein) and the promyelocytic cell line HL-60 (38 Iu ADA/g protein) as a model system to determine the levels at which the tissue-specific expression of ADA is regulated. From our results it can be concluded that the almost 20-fold difference in ADA expression between Molt-4 and HL-60 is the result of differences in the post-transcriptional processing and/or stability of ADA pre-mRNA within the nucleus.

Architecture for Customer Relationship Management Approaches in Financial Services The majority of financial services companies in Germany and Switzerland have, with varying objectives and success, conducted customer relationship management (CRM) implementation projects. In this paper we present a framework for the analysis of CRM approaches in financial services companies. Building on previous research and using comprehensive literature research, we develop a CRM reference architecture that focuses on the process and system level for the description and classification of CRM approaches in companies. Moreover, we analyze three CRM case studies in Swiss and German financial services companies and derive different types of CRM approaches in the financial services industry: Customer Satisfaction Management, Customer Contact Management, and Customer Profitability Management. We describe each type in accordance with the CRM architecture and a case example.

This application claims priority from Korean Patent Application No. 2000-36097, filed on Jun. 28, 2000, the contents of which are herein incorporated by reference in their entirety. The present invention relates to integrated circuit memory devices and, more particularly, to non-volatile integrated circuit memory devices storing and being accessible with multi-state data. Flash memories have recently been developed for personal computers. In this context, flash memories are advantageous because they are capable of storing and quickly erasing large amounts of information. Before reading information stored in the cells of a memory device, it is necessary to check the information storing state of a selected cell. Signals required to check the storing state of the selected memory cell are applied to circuits associated with the selected memory cell by use of a decoder circuit. A current or voltage signal indicative of the storing state of the selected memory cell is placed on a bit line. By doing so, the storing state indicative of the programmed information of a memory cell can be found by measuring the obtained current or voltage signal. When reading information stored in a NAND-type memory device, a selected transistor in a selected string is switched to the ON state. In addition, a voltage higher than that applied to the control gate of the selected memory cell is applied to the control gates of unselected memory cells. As a result, the unselected memory cells have a low equivalent resistance as compared to the selected memory cell. The magnitude of the current flowing through the string from the associated bit line thus depends on the information stored in the selected memory cell of the string. The voltage or current corresponding to the information stored in each selected memory cell is sensed by a sensing circuit e.g., a sense amplifier. Many schemes have been proposed to increase the information storage capacity of memory devices without a consequent increase in chip size. Conventionally, a memory cell stores a single bit of information. It is technically possible, however, to store at least two bits of information in a single memory cell. When 2 bits of information are stored in a single memory cell, the memory cell is programmed with either xe2x80x9c00xe2x80x9d, xe2x80x9c01xe2x80x9d, xe2x80x9c10xe2x80x9d or xe2x80x9c11xe2x80x9d. Accordingly, a memory device can store twice the information with the same number of memory cells as compared to a memory device wherein only a single bit is stored in a single memory cell. When storing 2 bits per memory cell, a multi-state memory device is provided wherein the threshold voltage of each memory cell can be programmed to have one of four different values. Because the memory capacity per memory cell is doubled, the chip size can be reduced while providing the same memory capacity. As the number of bits stored per memory cell increases, the data storage capacity of the multi-state memory device increases. The topology of integrated flash memory devices is becoming denser. As this happens, the amount of current passing through a bit line when a selected memory cell is an on-cell is reduced resulting in a longer developing time for the bit line. Accordingly, a need remains for a multi-bit flash memory device that addresses this and other disadvantages associated with the prior art.

Perfusion solutions and blood substitutes are known. The blood substitutes of Collins et al, Kidney preservation for transplantation. Lancet 1219-1222 (1969); Collins G. M., Hypothermic kidney storage. Transplant. Proc. IX:1529 (1977); Fischer et al, Flush solution 2, a new concept for one to three day hypothermic renal storage preservation. Transplantation 39:2, 122-126 (1985); Ross et al, 72-hour canine kidney preservation without continuous perfusion. Transplantation 21:498 (1976); Sacks et al, Transplantation 19:283 (1974) and Kallerhoff et al, Effects of the preservation conditions and temperature on tissue acidification in canine kidneys. Transplantation 39:5, 485-489 (1985) all consist only of low molecular weight molecules that readily traverse the capillary bed of the subject and thus are generally incapable of maintaining proper ionic or fluid balance or plasma volume when used in an intact mammalian subject. Klebanoff and Phillips, Cryobiology 6:121-125 (1969) disclosed hypothermic asanguinous perfusion of dogs with 11 of 15 subjects surviving up to 95 minutes when perfused with buffered Ringer's lactate at 7.1 to 16 degrees C. (44.6-60.4 degrees F.). Those blood substitutes that have an impermeable substance to maintain volume use human serum albumin or a mixture of plasma proteins, as the impermeate molecule to maintain blood volume. These are disclosed in Wall et al., Simple hypothermic preservation for transporting human livers long distances for transplantation, Transplantation, 23:210 (1977); Belzer et al., Combination perfusion-cold storage for optimum cadaver kidney function and utilization, Transplantation 39:2, 118-121, (1985). Haff et al., Journal of Surgical Research 19:1, 13-19 (1975) describe the asanguineous hypothermic perfusion of dogs using two solutions: the first, a flush solution comprised of pooled delipidated homologous plasma and electrolytes, and the second comprised of pooled delipidated homologous plasma, electrolytes and additional potassium chloride at a concentration of 10 mEq/liter. Haff et al also disclose the use of a pulsatile pump oxygenator and hypothermic perfusion with their solutions and suggest that the procedures could be used for long distance transport of cadaver organ donors and as an alternative to hypothermic circulatory arrest for blood-free intricate surgery. Non plasma-based solutions for organ preservation are disclosed in Bishop et al., Evaluation of hypertonic citrate flushing solution for kidney preservation using the isolated perfused rat kidney. Transplantation 25:5, 235-239 (1978). This article discloses a perfusion solution that included 50 g/liter dextran 40, a concentration that differs markedly from those of the solutions of the present invention. In addition, the electrolyte and ion concentrations differ markedly from those disclosed for the present invention. Segall et al., Federation Proceedings 44(3):623, (1985) disclose that a Ringer's lactate-based heparinized blood substitute containing 6% dextran 40 was used to lower the body temperature of hamsters prior to the circulation of cold-protective solutions, which are not disclosed, for 1 to 1.5 hours. Segall et al., (1987) Federation Proceedings, page 1338, disclose that a blood substitute, which included dextrose (180 mg/dl) and 25 mM HEPES, was used to perfuse a dog to 3 degrees C. when perfusion was stopped entirely. There is no disclosure of the complete composition of the blood substitute. Segall et al, U.S. Pat. No. 4,923,442 disclose a number of solutions used in blood substitution of living subjects all of which include at least some concentration of a cardioplegic agent, usually potassium ion. Segall et al., U.S. Pat. No. 4,923,442 also discloses surgical methods, particularly in respect to instrument placement and the control of pulmonary wedge pressure generally applicable to perfusion of subjects. U.S. Pat. No. 4,923,442 is incorporated herein by reference.

The Pokémon Trading Card Game Online has been in private beta since March, with over 10 million games played in a 6 month period. Now it's your turn to play. In early September, Pokémon Online Game entered into the public beta phase, open to anyone who wants to sign up, allowing you to take your real world cards into the virtual world to compete against the computer or other human players. But be forewarned, there may still be bugs to work out. My son is big on the Pokémon, and has been excited about getting to play the new online experience since we first heard about it a few weeks back. He's got literally crates full of the cards — he takes the slogan "gotta catch 'em all" very seriously. So it's great to hear that even his older cards, back for about the last year and a half to the Heartgold and Soulsilver series are good to go in the new online system. This also includes the recent Pokémon Black & White. According to J.C. Smith, who runs Consumer Marketing at Pokémon International, they are focused on adding the newest cards online first, but will likely circle back around and add older cards in the future. A light beam shines on an Afghan woman as she bakes bread in the border town of Ishkashim, Afghanistan. More than 12,000 people live in the 220-mile corridor, a series of broad valleys and high-altitude plateaus carved by the Panj River. You can set up an account easily enough for your kids, but if they are under 14, you will need to set up your own account as well. You then use your account to approve your kids and the accounts will be linked together, giving you oversight on what they are doing. This has the added benefit, according to J.C., of allowing you to share cards amongst family members. As long as you are not trying to compete against each other simultaneously using the same cards, the system will allow you to see and choose cards from other members of your family group. What's also cool about the game is that you can play against the computer to practice or other players from around the world, chatting with them in real time, and eventually across different languages. The player vs. computer mode is available in English, French, Italian, Spanish, and German. While the player vs. player is currently only available English, it is planned for other languages, and, using canned phrases, you will be able to communicate regardless of your opponent's native tongue. If you are concerned how your kids will interact with other players when you are not around, Pokémon includes numerous parental controls, most notably when it comes to the ability to chat. In order to coordinate game play, it helps to be able to communicate with your foes. Pokémon can allow for real-time instant messaging, and has full automatic language filtering blacklists as well as human monitors. However, if you are still concerned, you can limit your child's interactions with others in the game to a series of important "canned" messages. My own bias is to trust my kids to use appropriate language and tell me if someone they are playing with is not doing likewise. That doesn't mean I haven't had to sit my son down a couple of times to review what is (and is not) appropriate, but I would rather they filter themselves than relying on a 3rd party to limit my kids' speech. As with any good gaming system, you can develop your own avatar for playing. Right now the number of options feels a little limited, though. Although my son on got a pretty good likeness, mine still seems a bit off, especially in the hair department. The short hair is too short, and the only longer hair looks like a mullet. But again, we're still in beta, so things can only get better. We've been playing for about a week now, and we're enjoying it. Due to some difficulties getting our accounts set up, we were not able to get online for a few days after the beta launched, but I suspect that that was due to the massive amount of traffic the site experienced when they first opened the gates, as everything has been smooth sailing since, with the exception of some scheduled maintenance. As a novice to the game of Pokémon — I played a lot of Magic: The Gathering in the 1990s, but it's amazing how grad school can cut into your gaming time — I found the deck builder especially useful. It's no fun playing with an unbalanced or underpowered deck. The deck builder allows you to pick a card, and then it suggest the optimal deck from your remaining cards. One point about the game I found interesting from a technical standpoint is that is built using Adobe Flash technology. This is great for computer play and ensures backwards compatibility with older browsers — although navigation can be a little tricky since the browser controls can behave unpredictably and you find your whole game suddenly reloading. However, by definition, using Flash exclude iOS devices — most notably the iPad — from game play. Given the rapid rise of tablet devices amongst teens, this may be a deciding point for Pokémon gamers, who may have to go with Android if they want to indulge in their favorite passion in an online environment.

Q: How to meet my Persian girlfriend in Iran and have privacy while not being married? I plan to visit my girlfriend in Iran. She's Persian (from Tabriz), I'm French and we’re not married. We're planning to see each other for a week. We don't know yet where but Tehran would be nice given the amount of activities or in the north (like Rasht) for their openness. She doesn't have a house for herself since she's still living with her parents until she joins me in Germany next winter. It would be inappropriate to act as lovers in their house, even hold hands. Hotels don’t accept shared rooms for non-married couples (due to islamic law), and sometimes don’t accept single women at all. The fact she's single is written on her passport and all hotels ask for it. Also, she doesn't have any other nationality. We don't know where we can meet at all because of this. Do you know a place where we can have privacy (to be precise, have physical contact of any kind, such as holding hands or hugging, not sex) there? A: Book from local hosts maybe? Although, haven't tried it myself while living there, I believe they have less restrictions. Furthermore, going to the northern parts of Iran is definitely a good idea, if you intend to just see her (and not the country and its main tourist attractions) while in a more relaxed environment. Rasht (my hometown) is indeed famous for having the most open minded people in Iran; and you can somehow extend that to the other neighboring cities - Shiraz and Tehran are also doing well in ratings. Back to my suggestion let me give you an example on how to hunt such places; if you drive from Rasht towards Anzali (or any other famous city in the Caspian Sea like: Ramsar, Kelardasht, Chalous, ..), you will often see people standing by the side of the street holding a board that says: Villas for rent - or you can find similar villas on the internet websites like these: 1, 2, 3; they are in Persian but I bet your girlfriend can help you with that - just bear in mind that you have to be more attentive renting a place in this way :) A: Iran has a really tough situation regarding the matter, though in recent years its strict laws are gradually fading away. The most simple legal solution is for you to marry her (more of an arrangement between you two to avoid the problems). It may seem pretty out of hand for you at first. But marriage has a simple and routine process and it barely would take longer than an hour for you to sign the documents and be done with it. In case of later finding out you don't want to continue your relationship she can simply sign some papers and get a divorce. The process is nothing close to what you have to go through in the western countries. Pros: You wouldn't need to be afraid of anything and could openly go around with her. Experience a true relationship, a sneaky one would force both of you into subsidiary matters. You'll avoid anything harmful to happen to your relationship by being found out by the gov or her family. If you've seen her before twice and you're that serious to travel to Iran because of her, maybe it's time to meet her parents. Cons: She has to probably tell the matter to her family. That depends on her parents and their relationship. But it's probably the case And it's not very easy for girls in Iran to do that. But in case she decides to hide the matter from them. It's totally OK and you can still marry together without any problem. she'll have to always point at the relationship she had with you through at her life because of your name on her ID docs. You can later on have a real marriage when you both made up your mind about it.

Of Hats and Trains: Cultural Traffic in Leskovs and Dostoevskis Westward Journeys The first train line connecting St. Petersburg with western Europe opened in 1862, providing the occasion for Fedor Dostoevskii and Nikolai Leskov to take positions in regard to train travel, cultural traffic, and Russia's insertion into modernity. Anne Dwyer's analysis of Dostoevskii's Winter Notes on Summer Impressionsand Leskov's From a Travel Diary reveals an essential paradox. While Leskov is eager to foster the railroad, he switches hats with ease and offers pragmatic performances of an imperial identity based on his competency in the languages of the borderlands. In contrast, the nationalist Dostoevskii fulminates against train travel yet explores the ways in which modernity's onset changes human experience and literary possibilities. Their bifurcated yet equally ambivalent responses to modernity as emblematized by the railroad illuminate the diversity of attempts to articulate a Russian identity in relationship both to Russia's own people(s) and to western Europe in the modern age.

Yahoo’s (s yhoo) CEO Marissa Mayer has been snapping up companies so quickly that it’s almost hard to keep track of them all: in just the past week alone, deals have been announced for three companies — Qwiki, something called BigNoggin and Xobni — with a total cost estimated at more than $100 million. Xobni, an email inbox-management service that has been around since 2006, was Mayer’s most recent purchase, with an estimated price tag somewhere between $30 million and $60 million. But beneath the shopping spree, is there a strategy that ties these acquisitions together? Advertisement One obvious answer is mobile, something Mayer said early on would be a major focus for the company as it tried to revitalize its faded business: of the 17 acquisitions that Yahoo has announced since she took over the chief executive job, many have something to do with mobile. Qwiki, for example — which the company bought for an estimated $50 million earlier this week — is a service that allows users to create videos on their phones Trying to play catch up Other purchases, however — such as the $1-billion acquisition of Tumblr, and even the acquisition of Xobni itself — aren’t as obviously about mobile. The Tumblr deal seemed to be designed at least in part to restore some luster to Yahoo’s reputation as a cool web company, and to try and generate more traffic for its advertising properties. Xobni is clearly meant to help Yahoo’s mail product improve, and yet the company has also been languishing on the sidelines of the tech sector for some time now (as has Qwiki). To some extent, that deal seems to be about trying to catch up with Microsoft and Google on features. That’s one of the problems with many of Yahoo’s acquisitions: they seem to be attempts by Mayer to get Yahoo caught up to other major players, and that’s a strategy that rarely comes with a big payoff. Is the addition of Xobni going to cause dramatically large numbers of people to switch to Yahoo Mail, or to remain with Yahoo Mail instead of switching to Google or some other service? At worst, this kind of approach could easily create a sort of “Franken-Yahoo” with disparate parts that fit together but don’t work very well. Adding services like Qwiki, meanwhile, could generate some more heat and light for Yahoo’s mobile efforts, and so could acquisitions like the news-summarization app Summly, which Yahoo paid an estimated $30 million for — despite a complete lack of any revenue, let alone any profits. But at the same time, the frenzy of deals seems to be more like a scattershot “buy anything that says mobile in its feature set” approach than one that is guided by an overall vision of what Yahoo wants to be on phones and tablets. Can acquisitions change Yahoo’s DNA? As Om pointed out recently, Mayer has the luxury of a deep pocketbook with which to finance her spending spree: Alibaba, the Chinese portal that Yahoo owns a 23-percent stake in, has continued to increase in value to the point where it could be worth as much as $100 billion, and that — plus some hopes for improved performance based on Mayer’s arrival — has helped Yahoo’s stock price improve over the past six months. So the acquisition binge could well continue for the foreseeable future. YHOO data by YCharts Yahoo has suggested that many of its acquisitions have been about acqui-hiring smart developers and entrepreneurs that it can add to its staff, presumably as a way of injecting some fresh blood into the company and its businesses. However, Om has also argued in the past that even Mayer and her acquisitions will likely prove to be incapable of changing Yahoo’s core DNA, a cultural miasma that has stymied the efforts of several CEOs before her and made the company a synonym for snatching failure from the jaws of victory. Can the former Googler stitch together the startups she has acquired into something approaching a winning strategy? That remains a rather large question mark. Post and thumbnail images courtesy of Getty Images

0 Brawl on video shows CMS security guard slam teen girl CHARLOTTE, N.C. - A brawl caught on cellphone video shows a Charlotte-Mecklenburg schools security guard grabbing a 14-year-old girl and slamming her onto a cafeteria table at South Mecklenburg High School. "I kept watching it over and over," the girl's mother Marcella Ivy said. "I could not believe it was my child. Don't no child deserve that. That man was out of control." Once he slammed her he touched her inappropriately when he straddled her on the table, Ivy said. Since it happened on Sept 13, the mother said her daughter has had pain and is getting physical therapy. Police were called but the guard was not charged with a crime. The guard was not working at the school while Ivy's daughter was suspended for 10 days. CMS told Channel 9, "We take all physical altercations seriously" but they investigated and the guard "did not violate district policy." Ivy's attorney William Harding disagrees. "He should have been charged with a crime and given his day in court and to say this is OK sends the wrong message," Harding said. Ivy said she is considering a civil lawsuit against CMS for her daughter's pain and suffering.

Design of a Multi-mode Conical PQHA with EBG Reflector for GNSS Applications Directing at the demand of multi-mode, high gain at low elevation and high front-to-back ratio, a multi-mode conical PQHA (printed quadrifilar helical antenna) for GNSS (global navigation satellite systems) applications is proposed in this paper. A working band covering all the navigation frequencies is achieved by attaching a parasitic arm and an open stub, within which the axial ratio is less than 3dB. Meanwhile, an EBG (electromagnetic band-gap structure) reflector is introduced to reduce the antenna's backward radiation without a large rise in profile. This antenna is about 45% the size a typical cylindrical quadrifilar helical antenna is.

Automated Ligand Purification Platform Accelerates Immunopeptidome Analysis by Mass Spectrometry. Major histocompatibility complex (MHC)-presented peptides (pMHC) give insight into T cell immune responses, a critical step toward developing a new generation of targeted immunotherapies. Recent instrumentation advances have propelled mass spectrometry to being arguably the most robust technology for discovering and quantifying naturally presented pMHC from cells and tissues. However, sample preparation has remained a major limitation due to time-consuming and labor-intensive workflows. We developed a high-throughput and automated platform with enhanced speed, sensitivity, and reproducibility relative to prior studies. This pipeline is capable of processing up to 96 samples in 6 h or less yielding high-quality pMHC mixtures ready for mass spectrometry. Here, we describe our efforts to optimize purification and mass spectrometer parameters, ultimately allowing us to identify as many as almost 5000 pMHC I and 7400 pMHC II from as little as 2.5 107 Raji cells each. We believe that this platform will facilitate and accelerate immunopeptidome profiling and benefit clinical research for immunotherapies.