《Sophie》


 Chapter 10

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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    -- Exercising while using Screenlenzs is dangerous. --


    -- Please wipe equipment after use. --


    -- Do not jump. --


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Susie, how is he today?"


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


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


    Sophie went from living in the space tube to a much different world. Within seconds, Sophie was immersed and looking into a limited virtual reality, where images of a made-up world generated for and by Laurent gave his mind a place to reside. What she saw was drawn from neuroactivity from the weak mind of her father, trapped in his feeble husk. The doctor knew not to interfere. Sophie, as she oriented herself in the new world, used her real hands to attach a little carabiner from her belt to her father''s bed. The attendant, before heading out, unclipped Sophie''s gravity boots so she could float freely as she spoke with her father.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Sophie hated to watch the Electoral game, but she promised her father she would make an exception, there was plenty of time and nothing to do. She was intrigued, a Dream, was he finally getting better. President Emilio excelled in each and every round. Why did her father want her to watch this one in particular? There had to be a reason.


    There was.


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

 Chapter 11

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


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


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


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


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


    Sophie lowered the shade.


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


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


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


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


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


    "Even Electoral?"


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


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


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


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


    A retina scan from the Orbisons logged Sophie into her private and personalized account. From there, her favorite human/machine interface was uploaded in the blink of an eye. The software was adaptive. By monitoring the changes in a users'' iris, the software knew the preferences and dislikes of customers and adapted the experience until the world was optimal.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


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


    ***


    The digital simulation began. In a matter of minutes Sophie had gone from the Bayou of Louisiana now to a different world. She braced, the game was addictive. As with each time Sophie logged in, she was forced to watch the endlessly long Electoral 2072 jingle as the credits rolled past. At least this time there were no payment menu options. The world changed, and she was finally inside the system.


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


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


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


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


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


    "Electro, I want to see the game played by the President, Round 7. Also, what''s the Presidential Challenge, my dad spoke about it.¡±


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


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


    "Why not?"


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


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


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


    "I guess. But President Sanchez played the round against a lot of people, a lot ¡ª a statistical...." he saw she did not know what were statistics and stopped.


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


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


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


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


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


    "He is right. So true. But President Sanchez while achieving the best outcome actually created a boring simulation. He won by using no real visible magic, blew nothing up. You sure you don''t want to see someone else''s performance?"


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


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


    "Which one is the best?"


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


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


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


    "He won with no magic?"


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


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


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


    "Trust me, it takes a lot to shock me these days. You know that. Have you seen my dad."


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

 Chapter 12

    From the darkness and weightlessness of space, sitting in her first class seat, the online game began and Sophie in the blink of the eye had moved from the library to this new world. The simulation of the President began like a good movie. In a perfect blue sky, large white letters appeared:


    Round 7 - March 21, 2072


    Emilio Wamarez Sanchez


    Nationality: Mexican (42)


    Occupation: Car Mechanic (Currently serving as President)


    R Rated - Very graphic psychological violence


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    As every round, the show began along with music. Inspired, thunderous, mind-altering music. Moments after the white letters of the opening credits faded to a morning blue sky. The music became deeper, more pressing. Sophie in her seat anchored down. The simulation started with a flyover the magical landscape. No wonder others were hooked this entire trip, this was electronic cocaine.


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


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


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


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


    More lettering flashed across the sky and introduced the movie.


    -- The Comb of Loric --


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


    Sophie, even though she was really sitting in the spacecraft, was instantly drawn into The Comb. The authenticity of the simulation could not be denied. Whatever this was, even watching it was addictive. Her father had to have a very serious reason to ask her to see this. She took a deep breath both in real life and in this strange digital reality.


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


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


    The game continued.


    In the simulation, a maid dressed in robes pushed a nearby door with her elbow as she entered the wizard¡¯s bedroom holding a flat tray. The bed was beautiful and ornate. The tray was filled with breads, fruits, and all manner of baked goods. Sophie wished she could smell the tray''s contents, but there still was no sense of smell in Electoral. Not yet, at least. The sleeping wizard had the facial features of President Emilio Sanchez, with the exception of pale skin, pointy ears, and long blond hair.


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Mother be silent!¡± The Matriarch was nervous.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Sophie cringed as she watched the dead body hit the floor with a dull thud. This was not fun, she thought. Weren''t games supposed to be fun? Suddenly, the entire simulation paused. The noise of the hurricane halted. A voice came from nowhere. It was the returning voice of Electro, "Sophie, this is the R rated version, are you really sure you don''t want me to tone it down a notch?"


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


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


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


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


    Loric was here.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "You really want to know?"


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


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


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


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


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


    "Was she your daughter?"


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


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


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


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


    In the distance, a warhorse whinnied. A large beast mounted by an armor-plated knight galloped across the field and stopped within speaking distance of the Comb. The barding worn by the heavy creature was beautifully gold laced. The emissary sat at the doorstep of what remained of the castle. He was within striking distance for the wizard, but no weapon was drawn. The warhorse seemed unfazed by the falling rocks and debris around it.


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


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


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


    "Commandant Matthias, sir."


    "I assume you have a message for me."


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


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


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


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


    "Roland."


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


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


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


    "The Great Mundi Vurdi."


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "I will do much better than that."


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Time stopped.


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


    Blackness.


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


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


    Music.

 Chapter 13

    The oboe melody was soothing.


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


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


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


    The music that filled the gray void was heavenly. An endless serpentine note danced for well over a minute. Sophie did not know this piece was named "Gabriel''s Oboe." The version was from Ennio Morricone and first appeared in a movie called The Mission in 1986. There was no mistaking the respect this piece imposed. She felt it must be the purest, longest, and most beautiful oboe solo ever recorded. Then, the gray smog began to move as if animated by the music.


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


    "What evil is this?" demanded the General.


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


    "Magic?"


    "Yes, and one of the most powerful spells at that. You should feel honored. I have never cast such an intricate web for the sole benefit of any one human before. One misstep, and we both die," he added gravely. The fighter waved his weapons at Loric. They passed through the wizard as if he were a ghost. The barest flicker of annoyance flashed across Loric''s features. "You really don''t understand the power in play," Loric said. "Shall we proceed?"


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


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


    "What about a 500 point blast?"


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


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


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


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


    "No," replied Electro.


    "Why not?"


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


    "Then what is this?"


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


    Sophie simply said, "Resume simulation."


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


    "Where are we?" asked Vurdi.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    Vurdi hated wizards even more when they spoke in riddles.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    The Electoral simulation paused.


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


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


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


    "Please do."


    "Let me just say Vurdi''s hatred Is multiplied ten fold by certain very dark things. The Wizard gets the old Vurdi to help the young one by altering who he is. A guard shows up and refuses to help."


    "That''s all?"


    "Let''s just say it is goes to who the General became... let''s restart here."


    ***


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "I don''t..."


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


    "Now what?" asked the General.


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


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


    Loric smiled.


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


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


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


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


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


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


    "Loric, the sleeping wizard?"


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


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


    "Is your wife expecting?"


    "Not that I know of."


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


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


    ***


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


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


    The simulation ended.


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


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


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


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


    It took her time to fall asleep, but this time the sleep was different. Part of her mind was missing.


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


    There it was, a firefly but it was purple.


    The barrier between worlds, digital or not, dream or imaginary was weakening. Only Sophie felt it but like the ghost of her mother, she refused to let herself believe in it. Something of higher physical nature was coming.

 Chapter 14

    The Purple


    A Quantum Dimension


    A decade ago, Earth''s physicists discovered a new particle several magnitudes smaller than the quark. Men believed, yet again, having found the smallest building block of matter forming our universe. Media tried and failed to interest the general population. This discovery would change the Solar System but not until today.


    The notion that "a smallest particle" even existed was pure fallacy. Humans as they pushed to understand the small, saw something new and smaller and each time convinced itself this was it. Certain there was nothing smaller, it proved itself wrong decades later as it discovered another smaller building block. On the other end of that scale, men knew it¡¯s Universe was large beyond scale, human stupidity thought there was a lower limit but not a large one. Mankind was obviously wrong, but it helped most sleep at night. Noting made sense really about living in a scale, half way between the very large and the very small but humans still had much to discover about the world.


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


    But the first practical discovered use of the Zex proved to be breathtaking. Zexs, to scientists, are massless particles like photons or neutrinos without momentum. The Zex, when coupled to a photon, creates a stable pair for exactly two picoseconds, or more understandably, two trillionths of a second. As both massless particles unite or break, they drop any pretense of existing as a dual-wave particle group. Their spins intertwine, and the newly formed pair resonates as a heavy particle with mass. While complex, what remains is a reinforcement of field theory over particle-wave duality. Twelve people on Earth really understood what all this meant. But none of that mattered in 2072.


    An expert on CNN joked ¡°the Zex is the key of your car, you don¡¯t need it once you are moving, but it¡¯s critical when you need to start the car. We managed to remove the key of the moving car.¡±


    Once again, to most people, all but a handful, sports and music overshadowed particle physics. These enhanced, ephemeral light particles called Zexs, have two interesting properties. First, they emit a perceptible green hue to the human eye made of a visible particle smaller than a photon, a new type of light. Nothing for now has been uncovered about this green hue.


    What is amazing is that during the short life, the Zex can bounce off a mirror and push against it. The effect is akin to water from a fire hose hitting a brick wall. Yes, light, broken to a Zex gains momentum. Physicists were the first to understand the potential uses. ¡°The powerful light of a lighthouse doesn¡¯t push a boat on water it guides, the light bounces off, but a boat sail able to split the light into Zexs will be pushed by the light.¡±


    Men, most of them simply did not care what this meant ¡ª they should have.


    The first commercial application was on the AirBus''s Light Drive. A new technologymounted in the engine room of the Airbus A2070, the ship taking Sophie and the Electoral 2072 contestants to Mars. The propulsion mirror was a plate able to accelerate the ship under the impulsion of a laser located in Earth''s orbit. The laser was pointed at the back of the spaceship and the light from Earth instead of bouncing off, pushed the ship.


    In a matter of months from discovery, Marilyn had the device it added to the ship taking her players to Mars. Trips between the planets could be shortened to weeks and in orbit of Mars, she began constructing a second laser, use to slow the ship down.


    ***


    Malik, the quantum alien, was in awe of the destruction occurring before him.


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


    The Purple was built on different fundamental laws of physics. Here, in this layer of the Multiverse, Zexs had been known for eons. In this quantum place, the Zexs appear as massive colorful spinning boulders made upon hundreds of layers of spinning particles the size of meteors. Each was capable of large-scale destruction.


    On Earth, Zexs were small, here they were massive. It was, for the moment impossible for inhabitants of both worlds to even conceive life on such a difference in scale. The layers of the Multiverse were not layers of a cake with identical sizes. The physical realities in each was inconsequential to the neighbor, only time was the great equalizer.


    The strange world where Malik resides is simply called the Purple because of the colorful purple hue of its deep space. In hotter areas, the world was deep red. Malik, a planetoid of spinning rocks was floating alone far from any other life. Gravity could not exist here, there were other fundamental forces in play.


    To the inhabitants of this world, deadly rifts had been appearing with no discernible pattern in their world. One lone scientist feared the riffs were technology, a rape from a neighboring world. Through these rifts, rivers of massive Zexs poured in. The simplest description of the boy was a large modern art ball made of flashing pieces of uneven glass, each piece attached to a ballet of strings as light bounced between the plates. Blue sparks of energy bounced between the rocks.


    The Zexs, these deadly enormous missiles ahead were created in the green tears of the Purple''s quantum dimension and travelled as bullets only to crash into more deeply inhabited areas of the Purple. Zexs were in this world meteors sent to destroy cities. The slaughter has already killed over a billion Metils.


    A green rift would appear, it then moved in space and vanished suddenly. Malik was sent here, and the large glowing green tear prognosticated appeared. It had opened deep in space, in a portion far from inhabitants. For now, Malik was the only one in danger.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The beauty of the rift could not be denied. Malik, the young sentinel had to report back before one boulder crushed him. They shot in every direction. Instead of reporting, the boy pulsed, hypnotized by the majesty of the sight.


    This was beauty.


    For the first time, the precise space-time coordinate of this rift had been accurately predicted. The researcher, once ridiculed was validated. The prediction had chilling repercussions, a world had new technology and the number of rifts would only accelerate until the Purple was gone.


    Malik was a bit different, larger with seven main layers of orbiting rocks. Metils were normally made of five layers, a few of six. A handful of individuals in the race are ever been born with seven spinning layers. These rare individuals held higher public offices, but that was not the case for Malik. He was a pariah. Malik, even with his seven layers, was working as a simple security guard sent on a suicide mission.


    Pulsing, at the edge of death, he forgot to report the aperture. Projectiles gush in, flying close in every direction. But he was in a trance, oblivious to them. The sight was impossible to ignore. The rift looked like a flat surface, a large mirror between two worlds. Zexs materialize at the interface as they shot into the Purple. The boy waited, avoiding as by miracle the onslaught of Zexs. Soon, as predicted, the large barrier between this world and the next began to fade.


    The edge of the rift was irregular, like a sunspot. According to the scientists'' calculations, this rift would be the first of three, the smallest in size and shortest in duration as the technology was being tested.


    Malik was unclear if he was watching a gate between worlds, or a natural phenomenona. The sheer power generated by the rift was palpable at this distance. This was like standing half a mile away from Niagara Falls. The power cracking in the purple space felt strange, like a warming heat. Slowly, he began to pulse from being this close to raw, destructive energy. Somehow, the deadly rift was not scary.


    Oddly, these Zexs were filled with strange green flashes.


    The sight was beautiful. Mesmerizing.


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


    All progenitors died at the moment of his birth, his first sin. His second sin was his orbital flaws. Pairs of rocks forming individuals always rotated around each other in a clockwise fashion. In the rarest of cases, one pair flipped and turned in tandem with a negative spin. The kindest word used to describe someone with a negatively spinning pair was ¡°bastard.¡± In the past, if such an inversion happened after birth, the Metil was instantly put to death. Birth inversions were shunned, but just recently tolerated by law. Malik would be lying if he said he was above the taunts. He was an outcast, nothing could change that.


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


    This rift was a perfect death but in his mind, he felt something strange, a connection. A strange feeling deep within himself as if someone was calling him, attracting him.Watching the rift, pulsating with the energy, he fell into some type of trance. He no longer cared about his own safety. The sizes were deceiving, he was unaware that he was slowly moving closer to the rift. The giant Zexs appeared and shot at him from every direction. As he approached, the gate somehow seemed to shrink, he was growing in size. The Zexs were soon the size of buildings, not cities. He continued to advance and grow.


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


    Malik was no physicist. He was unable to understand what was going on at the rift, but ahead he saw into a different world, a place most called The Cold. The world where humans lived. It was there. Little did he know life on the Cold was formed of billions of merged particles. The Cold, Earth¡¯s dimension even had stars.


    Malik was floating in space, at the edge of the rift, where his own portions were moving in and out of existence. If the scientists were right, this region was about to be torn open, and he had a front-row seat. But he was not afraid. To the young creature, the rift was like a wall of boiling magma that he was ready to touch. His large body was now warm. He knew he was dying, yet he kept floating closer and closer.


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


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


    Malik floated even closer.


    Space exploded around the young sentinel. The sight was beautiful. Malik ventured closer to the green light, like a moth drawn to a light.


    Malik was now on the edge of the rift.


    He could see strange images. There was a tube, a ship in space. Though Malik did not know it, he was seeing the Airbus A2070 taking Sophie to Mars. In the back of it was a Light Drive. The plate at the heart of the drive generated Zexs, giving them time to merge with a blue photon. From his vantage point, this was like using a tsunami to move a beach chair.


    Then, by miracle, he moved from a purple area to a black one.


    He did not see people, he saw their souls. There were many shining shapes floating in space. These looked alive, like bees swarming around their hive. The shapes seemed to have structure, coherence. Overwhelmed, he moved closer and counted over a hundred shining clouds, each forming a network of electricity in a defined space. These were sentient beings of some type. They sat in the ship. Malik was seeing the brain activity of each person onboard the ship. The electricity created by each neuron in the brains of those onboard left a trace that resembled many of the lower forms of life in his world. He also saw energy in the ship.


    One of the living creatures was a bit smaller than the others. Its network of energy was not shining silver. It was gold. He knew her. In his heart she was important. This was all very confusing. As he approached, he did what was ordinary for him. Part of himself, he mimicked the structure and reproduced the pathways. This was how his race communicated. Malik was replicating the human pathways of Sophie the same was the sand creatures on Mars had copied the brain of the explorer. The Metis were unrelated to the Martians yet both managed life in its purest form. Humans had bodies around their brains.


    Sophie¡¯s being began to float in. Every memory, every feeling became his. The pathways began to send him messages and even emotions. Part of his mind was now a copy of Sophie''s brain. What she was thinking, he was thinking. What she was seeing, he was seeing. The information he received was impossible to digest for an alien being. In his normal form, he had no eyes, no body. Then an emphatic bond formed. He felt sadness and worry. He was alone, far from home. That emotion he could relate to. He was also sharing the thoughts of an orphan; also easy to understand.


    She blamed herself for her family¡¯s destruction. He could relate.


    Malik felt the girl; she had a name. She had a father, and he was on the ship. How could she be an orphan and have a father, he wondered. Malik knew this was dangerous, and he tried to disconnect from her. He could not. Instead, out of confusion and against his better judgment, he plunged. She was from the third planet, which she called Earth, and she was going to the fourth planet, which she called Mars.


    The boy, irresponsibly slipped, moved and really began the sixth Multiversal Attraction.

 Chapter 15

    It is impossible to all but a few to understand the Universe, the Multiverse or an Attraction. The phenomenon could transform reality at its core using highly complex rules of physics routed in multidimensional laws of physics. Everything about the rift, a passage between layers of the Multiverse or a change of scale between a quantum-sized world and larger human reality was scientific fallacy. Yet it really all made perfect scientific sense.


    For the moment, the young pair ignored even the most basic understanding of science. It mattered not, to the person holding a loaded weapon there really has no need to know how gun powder worked. The young girl, after watching President Sanchez¡¯s strange performance was now asleep. At first, her dreams were permeated with the story she saw in the digital reality. Adult drama seeped into borders of her childish and colorful dream world. Having cast away so many demons in her past, she quickly was able to return to her safe haven, a place called Wonderland. She know it existed, and because of who she was ¡ª it slowly did.


    Sleep came naturally to Laurent¡¯s daughter, even in troubled times. Adults kept reminding her how lucky she was. Each time she woke, she only vaguely remembered her visits into her strange dream world. Reading Alice before dozing off always brought her to a good and happy place and today was no exception.


    Wonderland had its share of villains, by now they no longer scared Sophie. Her life experiences were, honestly much more stressful. Sophie, flying between planets at a fraction of the speed of light was sound asleep. The Light Drive had received small pulses of light and began to warm itself up and that was a problem to the Purple. The light bounced, created Zexs and ripped a hole in the fabric of the Multiverse.


    Dreams had always been a mystery to scientists and theologians alike. Dogs, cats, and even horses slept, and at some point during sleep, the brain wandered as if tired of the solitude of the dark within itself. There really was a greater purpose to sleep and dream, it served as a bridge to reality and the immaterial world where souls exist. Library shelves were filled with different theories as to why dreams existed; none were correct. To understand this part of the Multiverse, one first needed to understand higher dimensional physics.


    In a dream, everyone from the homeless to the king was equal. The paraplegic here danced and lost ones returned to life. Dreaming was for most a blessing, but for the depressed or sad, a curse. Dark dreams, nightmares as they often were called, were a different thing.


    Sophie was sound asleep in the Airbus A2070. She had given way to her fatigue reading her favorite chapter. In her dream, she found herself sitting at the long table surrounded by the cast of fun characters. These creatures were her only friends and she loved the large pleaded skirt, it made sitting hard. In her dream, in this place, she wasn''t the famous Sophie, she was Alice, a young girl entitled to be young and vulnerable. Here she was silky, threw tantrums and even cried.


    Today, in Wonderland, something was amidst. The odd group was surrounded by a thick forest filled by hundreds of colorful birds oddly vocal. She offered her furry friends some of her chocolate chip cookies. She had been here, at this table, too many times to count. Since she left Earth, she tried to come here three times a day. A large purple cat popped-up in the chair next to her. The characters looked at each other, but no one spoke. This was Sophie''s dream. They drank, ate and laughed for a while as a needed break from the mature content she had been forced to watch.


    Then, to add to the delusion, a strange green portal of light, a rupture in space with uneven edges appeared above. It was strangely odd even in Wonderland ¡ª green was uncommon. Inside the portal could be seen the other side of a world and it was purple color.


    "Yes?" quipped the rabbit.


    A gentle firefly, gold and red with sparkling wings flew out into Sophie¡¯s dream from the Purple. The little firefly was alive, it moved around the table inspecting in turn each creature one after the other.


    "What is it?" asked the white furry creature to her left.


    "I would say, I would say, who are you?" joked the giant caterpillar.


    The flying creature reminded everyone of a fairy, immerse in light and leaving a streak behind as it moved. It did not seem hostile only inquisitive. The rabbit did what rabbits do, he swat at it, but thankfully missed. Sophie gave him those eyes and everyone laughed.


    "You want tea?" asked the caterpillar sending large rings of smoke the way of the intruder.


    The firefly stopped moving. "Where am I?" resounded a boy''s innocent voice. It could speak. This was Malik, ¡°I am from the Purple, where is this?¡±


    "You are in Wonderland, do you work for the Queen?" asked Sophie playing her part. She caressed her sleeves and pointed to a frame of the Queen attached to a tree. She got up from her seat and saluted the visitor, pretending to remove an invisible hat.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    "What, where is this?" questioned the boy. Malik could somehow see this world. It had new colors, and he could communicate. He knew he was in deep trouble. The Metil was not supposed to be here. Before Sophie could answer, the firefly began to vibrate. "Sorry," it said fearful, "I am so sorry." The insect left and flew back through the portal from which it came. Behind the creature, the rift stayed open but was it was closing.


    "Alice, go after it!" This was Wonderland after all and Alice did those things.


    "But the rift is too small. I cannot pass through it."


    "Take the shrinking potion." The rabbit was correct. "It''s in your pocket." As she drank from the tiny bottle, the rift moved closer to the ground expecting her to walk in. Within seconds, she was the size of a bug and was standing in front of the green light and looked into the Purple.


    "Good luck," wished her friends as Sophie leaped into the unknown after the boy.


    ***


    The girl expected many things, but where she landed was not one of them. This was no longer Wonderland and everything dreamy about it was gone. The world was formless; a simple diffuse purple. Here there were no trees, no ground, just the lilac color. In the distance were bordeaux colored patches, like island at the horizon of a blue sea. Her body was gone, but that was fine. She was used to playing computer games in which she had no body. Each time she visited her father, she was also formless.


    Behind her was a tall black and green mirror, it remained open. Instinctively, she knew this was in the world of the firefly. Around her small pellets of green shiny metal entering this world and was flying out in every direction.


    Then she saw it. Floating in the distance was the little creature. It reminded her of the thing she had seen a couple of times floating in space from her seat in the ship. That was odd. The firefly no longer had wings or even a form. Sophie felt like the firefly in the dark space, the firefly and this shiny ball were the same creature. Sensing her, it began to pulse, shiver and then tried slowly to move away.


    "Wait!" called Sophie. It heard her. The creature began to flicker. It was moving erratically in every direction as it did back in Wonderland. "Wait!" Sophie repeated, this time with a milder tone but her voice was getting stronger. She felt the creature''s thought it was in trouble; it wanted Sophie to go away. "Talk to me," she whispered. Her words came out even much stronger. The sound resonated so strongly, her voice sent shock waves in the purple in every direction pulsing away from her. The wave hit the creature before she could act. It knocked out some of the rocks forming it.


    Malik cried out in pain.


    Wounded, it stopped moving only to shiver. The creature was now barely pulsating; it was hurt.


    "I am sorry. I am so sorry," it kept begging. Sophie felt awful, she had hurt it.


    The girl was afraid to talk or even think. She looked away before talking, "Who are you? Is this Wonderland?"


    This time her voice did not create the wave, there was no power. The small creature was alive but confused. "I don''t know. Don''t hurt me."


    "What is your name, I am Alice. What are you doing in Wonderland?"


    "My name is Malik. Don''t kill me." The creature was afraid. "What is Wonderland?"


    "We are in Wonderland," explained Sophie. He did not find the strength to contradict her. "I am really called Sophie, who are you?" Sophie felt more comfortable with her real name. The time for playing was over.


    "Sophie?"


    "Yes."


    "The creature from the other side of the rift?" it asked.


    "Yes, I suppose." In her back the portal was still open, it was still pouring the warm energy. By the word ¡°rift¡±, clearly the creature meant the door.


    "I am in so much trouble. I did not mean to spy on you. I am sorry. I must go. I forgot to report the rift!" It began to slide away. Sophie had no trouble moving in the purple space and was able to keep up with the Metil. "Please..." it implored. His words were touching.


    "Who are you?" asked Sophie. "Quickly, I will grow bigger soon, the effect of the potion will wear off." Sophie was still partly asleep. She was referring to the temporary effects of her shrinking potion from Wonderland. The young Metil''s confusion was total.


    "Sophie, please return to your ship. The rift is temporary, it will close soon. You will be lost here in my world." Sophie somehow felt the creature''s concern was legitimate. It feared for her well-being. "Please go back before it''s too late!" it insisted.


    Sophie started to wonder. Things were not normal. Something was off; this place was no Wonderland. "Can I just take the next door?"


    "You cannot!" it exclaimed, "Please, please, please, I beg you." He was genuine. "I am already in so much trouble. I will be blamed for this."


    "Do you serve the Queen?"


    The quantum creature was confused. He knew of no royalty. The person from the other world had followed him and was talking nonsense. In a courageous move, the young Metil changed direction moving back toward the rift. He would sacrifice himself to guide her home. He was to blame. Sophie''s mind followed in tow.


    "I saw your memories. Your father, Laurent needs you. Return home!"


    "He does," she admitted. This was no longer a fun dream, no one spoke this way normally. She did not like to be reminded of her father''s condition. The wounded creature kept moving toward the rift. By some miracle, the Zexs shooting out of the portal kept pouring out but missing them.


    Malik continued. "I am sorry. My creators are also extinguished. They are..." he picked the right word, ¡°dead. I understand your pain. You must be with him; the one father."


    The little creature seemed to struggle as it advanced against the pouring flow of light coming out of the rift. Sophie on the other hand was floating as an observer. As they got closer to the door, she began to distinguish shapes inside the rift. She saw the stars in her world against the darkness of space. This glass mirror was a door to her world.


    "This is you, the one in gold. Can you please go back?" said Malik. Sophie did not see any gold. All she saw the Airbus floating in silent dark space.


    He really needed her to go. She did what Alice would have done, and passed from the Purple into her world. She was falling asleep, within the dream.


    "What is your name?" was her last words to the alien.


    "Malik," he said from a distance. She had returned.


    ***


    "Welcome back. Where were you?" asked the caterpillar.


    "With a new friend," said the girl now wearing a purple color dress.


    Sophie finished her dream peacefully.

 Chapter 16

    The Purple


    Malik was in shock; he was alive and resonating on all seven layers of his being. His rocks were animated by parasite spins and off-axis vibrations. This was how the Metils handled extreme stress. He needed to calm himself. The encounter went too fast, he spoke, saw and he was back, floating alone in the Purple. The rift closed, and his link with the alien girl ended. The one called Sophie was back in her strange but astonishing world.


    His encounter with Sophie was no figment of his imagination; he had the battle scars to prove it and memories stored in his databanks. A sizable portion of his seventh layer was gone, vaporized by a single word pronounced by the intangible creature. He was now lost in space. His locator, a deep space compass normally intertwined into the rocks of his seventh layer was now cinder.


    He should be worried about standing in the path of the second predicted rift, but he had more pressing matters. He saw the last Zexs. He flew close, to it, the ball was different, smaller. As he watched, it was increasing in size, or better yet, he was shrinking a thousandfold. Both made no sense, but the latter was more probable. Changing size, called scaling, was entirely possible in the Purple. Scaling was a gift to the Metils. When upward scaling was attempted, it was deadly, but smaller scaling was possible. Somehow his contact with the rift had made him larger.


    Any other day, his size difference would be a significant worry, but not now. The gaping holes in his layers and the stress was too much for anyone to endure without medical intervention. He was in danger, and his survival had to be his priority. About a hundred rocks from his sixth shell were also missing. His government issued armor added as an eighth layer was long gone.


    He looked inwardly between his rocks like a human uses a tongue to check for broken teeth after a punch to the face. Both of his spin defects were still inside of him; that was awful luck. If only the amputation could have ripped those off.


    He needed to calm down.


    The vibrations were making him bleed energy, and he was getting weaker. He had only moments before he would lose consciousness. He no longer felt Sophie; their link had vanished. Deep within himself, he knew she was back with her father and that reassured him.


    "Sophie?" he said out loud to confirm his suspicions. There was silence. He was alone. His mind was still overwhelmed.


    Alone in deep space, Malik lost consciousness.


    Time passed.


    The orbiting rocks slowed almost to a point where they stopped vibrating altogether. When he awoke, the new rift wasn''t there. His pain had deepened and intensified, but he was still alive. His vibrating stress was gone, replaced by weakness. He would die unless he could recharge, and he was in no shape to travel to the closest deeper purple energetic area. Home was too far away.


    He waited.


    But pain quickly undermined his resolve to play the martyr. There was a way, in theory. His streamer still worked, and by using it, he could attempt a space jump. He knew once back at his base, the Group would interrogate him endlessly, as was their habit. They were sure to dismantle him, either because of his two spin inversions, or his disregard of the mission. He deserved whatever reprimand was coming his way. The Group''s answer to any problem was almost universally death.


    Malik''s immediate survival depended on his capacity to find a stream that moved in the direction of the capital, use the technology to jump on it and transport himself to safety. He was new to using streams; his plan was a mere step from suicide. Even under calm conditions, using the technology was dangerous. There was simply no other option available to him, he reasoned.


    Using his mind, he dismissed the pain and concentrated. Rocks moved. He pulled the rocks forming the streaming device orbiting from within himself. By some miracle, the box was intact. He knew he wasn''t ready, but he had to attempt the jump. Hours of preparation were normally required, but he had only minutes. He ran part of the mental checklist before he attempted to energize the device.


    Streaming was old technology; not the streamer he was about to use. Thousands had paid dearly to develop it. It took decades before one of the prisoners condemned into streaming survived to tell his story. Because of the importance of teleportation, the cost in Metil life was ignored, and testing on streaming continued. Today streaming, in the best of conditions, was deadly more than two percent of the time.


    The technology could be imagined as some form of teleportation. A Metil energized the device and in the blink of the mind reappeared leagues away from where the device was powered.


    Mathematicians discovered one day that the Universe or at least the Purple dimension had what was called natural scales. Everything in the universe existed within itself at multiple different scales, or sizes. This principle, on Earth, was called self-similarity and was rarely understood. It is, in itself, far from intuitive. Theory teaches us a curved coastline is identical in shape when looked from a high altitude, or when looked at using a microscope, finding identical portion at two scales. Theory, as shocking as it sounds suggests the naturalsimilarity in shape between a large object and a small one is not coincidental, it is a natural property of any Universe. The Purple was partly self-similar.


    The Metils mathematicians found that self-similarity comes in two types. The Universe not only creates identical patterns at different scales, but some of the rare matches can be linked at the hip, as two sides of a coin. In fact, the theory says everything and everyone exists simultaneously at multiple different scales.


    Metil children are taught that scaling is like being able to find a microscopic map of the world around you and being able to move the smaller version of yourself on that map. By reducing yourself to nearly the size of the copy on the map, your smaller twin version grows larger. As the pair gets closer to one another other, they are pinched in a precise direction on their respective maps. Each time upwards scaling has been attempted, the result remained death. Because of their shapes, the Metils were uniquely adapted to stream. With training, they can extend themselves, or inflate themselves to nearly double their size. This allows them to increase the number of available scales.


    Malik had no physical capacity to expand himself to help his streamer find multiple scales and be able to scale in the right direction. But he could look for the basic scale. Maybe the first offered would be right and lead home. He activated the machine. The first step was simple. Malik pushed a shining red rock, and an image of himself was stored in the memory. Hurt, with chunks missing, he was nearly twenty percent easier to model. He initially did not enter an expansion variable, he was in no shape to push his size. The pain would be too much.


    The device returned no viable scale.


    He increased his expansion coefficient to five percent. That could be possible. The machine found a single stream, to the north-east. The direction was away from where he needed to go. He increased his maximum expansion to ten percent and finally fifteen. Nothing. Only once he increased the expansion to twenty percent did he find one. It led directly to his deep purple. There was no way he could expand as much. Healthy, he could maybe expand by thirty percent. He had no time to wait; he had no choice.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    He slid a block and energized the device. It sparkled. The pieces forming the streamer stopped turning within his sixth layer. The rest of his body was still orbiting. His own rocks touched the machine; there was an orange jolt of power in the device. The energy jumped between the rocks, like a Tasmanian Devil of electricity. At least the machine was working. It kept warming up, then the program executed.


    He took a deep pause and slowly began to push. Like a person taking a deep breath, he let himself grow, pushing every rock apart from his center. The pain was blinding. Each rock had to distance itself from its neighbors in the same proportion. He was only at five percent growth, and there was no way he could do more. His larger rocks began to vibrate; this was not stress vibration, it was different. He ignored the pain and pushed on. As each of his rocks parted from the others, the pain doubled. He was a human with broken legs trying to stand up.


    He really had to find a reason why he should push past the pain. If he failed, would they send someone else to the next opening of the rift? Would that person be as kind as he was? He wanted to see Sophie, yet he was returning home. He knew his mind was not making much sense.


    He pushed. His expansion was now at ten percent, then fifteen, and finally twenty percent. At some point, the pain was so great, he no longer felt his body. Once wide enough, the screen on the device blinked. It now read twenty-one and a half. Without hesitation, he let one of his spinning layers touch the orange energy. Like a child''s toy, the machine expanded and the rocks forming it placed themselves in a close orbit over his round body. The little points began to rotate very fast forming an orange color sphere around him.


    Then, the world around him collapsed.


    He was gone.


    An instant later, he appeared in a much deeper color part of the Purple. He looked around. He was at the doorstep of his final destination. He had committed yet another mortal violation. Streaming this close to a city was forbidden. Anyone in a close vicinity of where he arrived would die.


    Malik was dying; he did not care. Other Metils floating around him began to yell and panic. Within seconds, a citywide alarm sounded. He obviously was the source of the commotion. But something else was wrong. He was now in the middle of his capital city. Millions of small shiny rock danced forming this city. Hundreds of Metils were phasing out of their houses, passing like ghosts through the walls. Each made of crystal-like popcorn, with kernels bouncing off each other. This world was beautiful. Seas of energetic rocks, in small groups, were spinning around in clockwise fashion.


    The world felt smaller than normal.Each of his orbiting rocks was larger. Each rock was bigger, stronger. This was impossible. Expanding to scale was pushing rocks apart, not making them bigger. It was as if he''d drank Alice''s growth potion from Wonderland. He was about twice the size of the others in the city. He had no clue as to how he''d scaled to this size. In this larger form, he would be harder to destroy.


    Slowly he made his way to the large doors of the of the Group''s headquarters. The tall building looked like millions of blue glass cubes, each with rounded tips and vibrating edges. Energy flowed in every direction. The Metils could, like a comb through hair, slide themselves through what appeared to be solid.


    Finally, as he reached the large doors of the place he needed to go, Metils working as medical staff came to help. There was universal kindness about doctors. The larger patient was still able to maneuver through the crystals, he passed the door, but as he did so, he did break a few formations.


    "I need to report," said Malik to the doctor.


    "We must repair."


    "No time," said a rude voice inside the structure. The Chancellor was already barking orders. "Bring him in. Lock him up!"


    Malik floated, with difficulty, to the high inner chamber. Here there were fewer crystals, and he could see the others. He quickly was surrounded. Regeneration modules, also made of spinning particles tried in vain to hook themselves to his oversized body; he would have to stay injured. What had happened to him was not natural. The questions began.


    "Chancellor Rik, he has two inversions," observed the medic.


    "Silence. You will speak when asked." There was no kindness in this place. "Debris," began the Chancellor speaking now to the larger sized Malik. "Tell me what happened; you have moments before we dismantle you!"


    The Metils were capable of imprinting. This technology was a merger of minds and included forceful data sharing. It ordinarily was reserved for reproduction ceremonies. Forcing imprinting upon another was tantamount to rape on Earth. The technology allowed one to read another''s mind the same way Malik had read Sophie''s.


    Malik''s size was a problem. Malik knew if the medical equipment could not connect, the mental reading devices would also be unable to pry open his mind. "There is little time, I must warn you, I was attacked by a creature from the other side of the breach."


    "From the other side of the rift you guarded?"


    "Yes."


    "We sent another to your post. The second pulse has just begun, but it will stop soon."


    "I saw the other side of it, a different world. The Cold." Malik felt hiding the truth was pointless and could only endanger Sophie and her father. "I flew into the rift. There I saw a creature. We talked. She followed me home and attacked with using only words." He needed to mitigate what he''d just said; it was not the entire truth. "She is not dangerous, she is kind.¡±


    "Shut-up!" interrupted another Metil. "You use the term ''attacked,'' please explain." Slowly the large hall was filling with hundreds of Metils phasing in through the walls.


    Malik tried his best to describe the events as they transpired. His larger size helped get their some attention. He did keep the personal attraction to Sophie and her father to himself. He liked the girl, they would not. He knew better than to lie or deceive the Group, but they could figure some things out by themselves. He explained she was a child, brave and scared, living in a ship traveling in the space of their world. He had close contact to the anomaly, seen the lights, and then connected with a light pattern. Of course, Malik left out what was unknown to him. He did not know the girl slept and he had somehow fallen into her dreams. He described to the Metils Sophie''s world as Wonderland.


    "So life exists in The Cold?"


    "Most definitely."


    "Are they belligerent?"


    "I cannot say, but the one I contacted was not. A child, like me. Scared."


    "Yet she hurt you, crossed between worlds. None of this is possible. What you describe is fiction. You survived because of your cowardice. Your actions were idiotic and reckless. What you say is impossible and illogical, yet you stand here. She would have returned. Masters of the Nexus are clear, nothing or no one can cross between worlds."


    The poor boy was mishandled.


    "Enough!" finally a different and deeper voice from a corner. "We will have time to debate and analyze after the rifts close. For the moment, careful observation and data collection are prime." It was right. "The rift will stay open only a fixed period of time. We need more information."


    Malik was hurt, but he was no longer dying. The young creature was fine with the punishment, he''d expected worse. A much larger streaming device was brought into the room. An expert operated it. In a blink, the entire delegation made of hundreds of Metils shifted to an area close to the rupture in space. There in space was the second rift. It was like the first but only bigger.


    "What magic?!" yelled the leader. The Metil army next to the rift was impressive. The edges of the flat plate from which Zexs poured appeared to be unstable. The light and edge changed size from a square to a rectangle. This second rift appeared to Malik to be equally inviting.


    "Bastard! Was the anomaly moving this way when you last saw it?" The mirror was advancing in space.


    "I do not recall."


    "Useless group of deformed particles," murmured the creature.


    "Sorry. I don''t recall."


    "Silence!"


    The soldier in the distance was instructed to advanced slowly, avoiding the Zexs and entering the rift. A Zex quickly pulverized him.


    "Boy, where you when you entered?" asked the army leader.


    "I don''t..." he began.


    "I will dismantle you myself." The Group was losing patience with him.


    A second soldier was instructed to float closer to the rift. This was suicidal. Then, in a flash, the second volunteer was pulverized.An instant later there was an explosion, a small shockwave. The wave spread out through the Purple, pelting them all. Loose rocks were pushed from some of the Metils. Apparently, Malik had been lucky to survive.


    Malik felt like this shockwave was his only chance to escape his captors. He needed to be reunited with Sophie. No one would follow him to the rift. The restraints were not really adapted to hold his larger body, and with a push, he slid out of them.


    He felt some urgency, a gut feeling. If he stayed here, he would die. They would never believe him. The rift was about to close. He felt like he needed to go back to the ship. He did the only thing he could do: he moved to the only place in the galaxy where these people would not follow. He ran to the rift. The army watched in horror as he did.


    In seconds, Malik touched the plate, avoided the Zexs and was gone.

 Chapter 17

    The Cold


    Sophie awoke from her visit to Wonderland to commotion aboard the spaceship. As usual, her dream was a blur, but she knew the last one was stranger than usual. The color purple flashed in her subconscious. She stretched as the images faded. She looked out of the window of the ship; nothing but darkness but the stars were not immobile, they were moving slowly. Everyone around her was nervous. Some piece of equipment in the back of the ship was not working properly. The attendants in violation of their own protocols were flying haphazardly around the cabin, grabbing little things and collecting flying objects.


    In her heart, Sophie was calm. Her mind, as if it was recovering was in a strange haze felt strong. Most of the time, she felt out of sync with others around her, but now, it was distance. Her space-sadness was gone. Something or better yet, someone was here - a friend. Sophie''s bond with a different dimension was taking time to fade. Deep down she knew the ship was in no real danger. Whatever was the cause, she felt it was fine. Her strange inner feeling was growing in strength.


    Adults liked to worry. It seems there had been a handful of very small little bumps in the ship, no cracks or noises, yet alarms had gone off, and panic resonated from every living soul around her. CNN, on the news was blaring alarms. Everything was slowly returning  to normal except for the stars outside the ship. They were moving ¡ª sliding sideways. She wondered why adults disliked space turbulences so much. On a normal plane, she remembered once, a bump sent everything in the air, yet the adults were the ones telling her to calm down.


    "Please remain seated as we stabilize the ship. This should take an hour or two," said the captain''s voice. She liked Captain Judy, the woman had a great uneven smile.


    The people around her were busy. This craziness and the media attention was just beginning, and it was already tiring. The Electoral adventure was beginning, and she had to brace for more. It was now October 17th, and the finale was scheduled in more than a month on her birthday, on November 21st, 2072. A strange new hotel awaited them on the red planet. Finally resurfacing, her book was floating above.


    She remembered parts of her dream. Some of the images flashed back. There was a light, a firefly, but it was red -- no -- purple. Then it fled her mind. That was the nature of dreams. The firefly in the dream spoke, it was a boy, she remembered that.


    "This is bad!" said the reporter worried sitting next to Sophie. Drops of sweat were forming on her forehead.


    "What?" asked the young girl finally talking to her neighbor. The journalist wasn''t talking to her she was live broadcasting eyes open. The lady was talking to small floating cameras inches from her face. The moment Sophie spoke, one of the flying cameras turned to capture her expression. Before they could exchange formalities, the light above turned to red.


    The reporter, Milly Wong, smiled at Sophie and continued. "Moments ago, this ship was rocked by a strong impact emanating from the Light Drive located at the aft of the ship. The impact sent us spinning, which in space is highly dangerous."


    Sophie looked outside. The stars were moving. What she saw next was beautiful, in the distance, was a small blue star, Earth. From this distance, it was the most fragile and lovely thing she had ever seen. The blue was not shy, it gleamed like cobalt. The sight could leave no one cold. Slowly, the Earth moved across her horizon as the ship continued to tumble. The yellow Sun followed in tow, she looked away. For the first time, she realized where she was, in deep space. On the speakers, to calm the passengers, music began adding to the oddity. Sophie was too young to recognize Mozart. The Earth took almost a minute to move from the left to the right. The ship''s captain was using little micro-bursts on the wings to counter the drive''s earlier turbulence to slow the ship''s rotation.


    As calm slowly returned to the cabin, the annoying journalist kept talking at the camera, working herself and her viewers into a panic. Sophie lost sight of Earth but then saw a much larger red disk slide into view from the right. It was deep red and orange in parts, half the size of the Sun at this distance, it had a scarred smile across its center. This planet''s nickname of ¡°the mysterious one¡± was appropriate. From where she stood, the disk had noticeable geological features. Her imagination transformed the disk into the purple smiling face of the Cheshire Cat from Wonderland.


    "So nice," she whispered to herself. The flying camera caught her expression.


    Sophie opened the compartment under her seat and pulled out a rolled-up piece of plastic, it was her school tutor. Once unfolded it and the screen blinked in all colors as it booted. This student was late on her assignments. As the red disk made its way slowly, she typed the word "Mars." The multi-media presentation included a travel-guide and a three-dimensional map. Little arrows pointed at the landmark features of what it called "the ruby of the solar system." She held up the guide up next to the window to compare it to the red planet as it moved across the night. She matched the features and smiled. If only her father could see this.


    Sophie was happy. For the moment the journalist was keeping to herself. Her broadcast was concluded. The lady was nervous. She pulled a mirror, powdered her nose and made sure her teeth were free of the deep red lipstick. The neighbor got up, pulled out a microphone, and went forth into the cabin to interview the most hysterical people she could find.


    On her tutor she searched for possible space creatures, for Mars and fireflies and found nothing. This was sad. There were no animals on Mars or even in space. Why go visit that place, she wondered. The adults called it a desert, but back on Earth, she knew there were snakes and scorpions in the desert. The tutor was clear, there was no life on Mars. Somehow, Sophie did not believe that.


    ***


    A man in the economy class began to panic and hyperventilate. Others around him unclipped their restraints and drifted away to give him room to breathe. In a confined space, distance was a courteous gesture. The man began to yell. The doctor rushed over. The passenger was holding his head with both hands, and in the blink of an eye, he collapsed lifelessly. In space, this meant his body began to float.


    Sophie saw the doctor and nurse fly out of the infirmary and go to the man. They were holding a bag of equipment. Sophie''s mind was still in a haze, half into the world. Slowly she was coming back from the dream. What the young passenger knew was that no one was left in the infirmary to take care of her dad. She could be useful keeping an eye on him. She unbuckled, and thanks to her small size pushed away floating like a bullet toward the back of the ship. The medical staff was busy trying to fasten the limp body into his seat before administering a defibrillator. Dr. Shin saw Sophie enter the infirmary but had more important matters to attend.


    The man was experiencing convulsions, loss of consciousness and his pupils were dilated asymmetrically. His sclera had turned from white to a disturbing bloodshot crimson. He had been a victim of severe internal head trauma. "Help me get him to the back," snapped Doctor Shin. Slowly they moved the floating body to the infirmary. Inside, the doctor acknowledged Sophie with a nod of the head, and confirmed her father''s vitals were fine on her watch. Dr. Shin gave instructions to the nurse as she worked desperately to unwrap equipment from plastic.


    "I need electrodes!" The wrappers were now floating. Sophie felt like something odd was going on, as if the world was slowing down. She watched the doctor work in slow motion. She was returning to her earlier haze. The infirmary had smaller windows. Outside, against the darkness of space, Mars returned. Next to her, the unresponsive passenger was now strapped, lifeless, on a very small stretcher beside her father. A journalist was trying to enter the infirmary, but the doctor waved her away. Milly Wong filmed from a distance.


    "What happened?" asked Sophie.


    The doctor hesitated, but she knew this girl had seen much worse. Another set of eyes could prove helpful, Shin told herself. "He''s dead. Keep an eye on your father. Don''t touch anything. Make sure your father''s vitals don''t change."


    "I can help," said the muffled voice of the journalist from the gym. The doctor looked up, saw the buzzing little flying cameras and just shook her head. The nurse handed Sophie a pad. Sophie was used to playing nurse. She had to empty her father''s bags, wash him and check the probes and electrodes on his head. "You let Sophie in!" implored the journalist. Sophie''s withering look back at the journalist forestalled any further comment from the woman.


    The doctor flashed equipment over the body. "So far I only see localized brain damage, the body seems fine," said Dr. Shin, "His heart just stopped, and it won''t restart." The weightlessness made her work much more difficult, but her training kicked in. Sophie liked Dr. Shin. "Hold his arm down." The girl did as asked. Sophie looked at the man, there was something odd about him.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "What type of brain damage?"


    The doctor would have ignored anyone, but Earth''s sweetheart was the closest thing to a daughter the doctor had. She trusted this girl, she was special and, without doubt, gifted. "This is no stroke or blood clot."


    "Right here!" Sophie pointed at a white point on a screen.


    "Yes." The doctor looked at the image, it was an MRI of the man''s brain. "This lobe behind the cortex just... It''s like...." She was having a problem finding the right words. "It burst into flames. A very small zone, right here. Then a complete failure of cerebral activity."


    "Burnt?"


    "Yes.¡± Lacking a better term, ¡°this man was lobotomized."


    "Is that bad?" asked the girl.


    "Yes. It could be worse, though. At least we know it''s not a virus. Then he''d still be dead, and we might have an outbreak on our hands."


    "Could it be a firefly?"


    The question startled the doctor. This was a child''s question, yet it was strangely relevant. She took a moment to respond. "Why, yes, that''s the right size, a firefly; I guess. Strange of you to say that."


    Before the doctor could regroup and ask Sophie why she had made the suggestion, a voice spoke on the intercom. "Doctor, what''s going on?"


    Dr. Shin tapped a red button on her earpiece. "Judy, we have a dead passenger here. Cause of death unknown. Some brain damage, it seems." The doctor was talking to the ship''s Captain.


    "What''s the cause?" asked the Captain.


    "Again, for the moment, unknown."


    "Anyone or anything else?"


    The doctor looked out the door of the infirmary, past the journalist into the main cabin. "That seems to be it. Just one passenger."


    "A player?" asked the Captain.


    "How should I know?" replied the Doctor almost in protest. The man was wearing an Electoral 2072 bracelet given to each contestant of the game. "I believe so."


    "Susie," began the Captain "make sure you upload all data to the mainframe. I want the doctors back home to help you if they can. The last thing I need is a panic. Do it as fast as you can, we are on a sixteen-minute delay, and I am sure one of those damn journalists have already sent images of this down to Earth." Milly Wong, the CNN lead journalist, was filming.


    "Captain," began the doctor, eyes on a camera filming her, "That''s a solid guess. Not much I can do here. We need to get this guy to a hospital back home." The moment the words came out of her lips, she knew she should not have said that. They were going to mars. Nothing short of the Black Plague could change the flight path of this ship. "Sorry Judy, I''ll take care of it and notify the next of kin as well."


    "It''s a bit early for that. Let''s not upset our passengers. If you run out of options, try notifying the Electoral center. Marilyn may have insights on what just happened. She''s protective of her players. Go ahead and give her the medical data if she wants it. She knows the human brain like no one else. Otherwise, wait for my instructions. Let''s keep this all information restricted to essential personnel for the moment." Sophie smiled at the doctor and crossed a finger over her lips as a sign to indicate that she would keep silent. Doctor Shin really liked the girl, but then again, so did everyone else.


    Then it happened.


    The body of Sophie''s father jerked as if he just had a heart attack. Laurent''s body had not moved by itself in well over two months.


    "Daddy!" The girl threw herself over the body. The doctor immediately removed a small round sensor from the head of her deceased patient and put it on the head of Laurent above the permanent sensor. His body jerked again. "Sophie, I see a spike of cerebral activity.¡± Dr. Shin pointed. ¡°Here. Exactly at the same place."


    What is going on?"


    "Make sure he doesn''t move." As always, Dr. Shin was impressed by Sophie''s composure.Before meeting the girl, she wouldn''t have wagered a nickel that a twelve-year-old child could remain this calm given the circumstances. "Wait," said the doctor watching the monitor, "another spike." Sophie could read the monitor: it read ¡°Neuroactivity at 419%.¡±


    "What''s going on?" repeated the young girl.


    "Your father''s vitals," Dr. Shin replied. Sophie was truly exceptional, and Dr. Shin knew for a fact that the girl knew Laurent''s unique readings like no one else. The fact that she''d even asked what the reading meant was merely a small, uncalculated measure of diplomacy to a friend, elder, and professional. Dr. Shin continued, "Great news, his numbers are going down back to normal."


    Sophie reached for the virtual-reality glasses, grabbed them. "I have to go in!"


    "Sophie," snapped the Korean woman with the unmistakable tone of a tiger mother, "No! Don''t even think about it!¡± Susie never raised her voice before today, she meant it. The doctor was reading hundreds of screens on every piece of equipment. Dr. Shin looked once again at the brain MRI display. She examined it very carefully. ¡°There was no visible firefly effect."


    "Will daddy be okay?"


    "His body and vitals are back to normal, for him. His cerebral activity is off his charts, though. The last thing your dad needs is more cerebral activity. You don''t need to add to it before we know what it is." Calm returned in the otherwise hectic plane.


    The doctor pushed the button of the ship intercom. "Judy, we have a second case."


    "Who?"


    "Mr. Lapierre. Laurent." The doctor tested the cerebral activity. "But the case is under control, whatever is going on, Laurent seems to be handling it."


    "You can''t stop me," Sophie muttered to herself, the dark glasses still in her hand. "I need to help him." The doctor shot a stern look her way, grabbed the glasses from her hand. The moment she did, she regretted it. She knew the doctor was right and found the woman''s strong maternal instincts reassuring.


    "Sophie, don''t fight me. On board, the doctor really has the last word. We need to make sure your dad is fine. Please believe me, the last thing he needs is more mental stimulation. You know that any outside input to his brain will do just that. In fact, I''m considering forcing him into an REM state to keep his cerebral activity as low as possible. I need to make sure this is localized and not somehow communicable. I''m afraid we''re in quarantine until we know better."


    Sophie, with great reluctance, grabbed the glasses back from the doctor and clipped them back on the hook. The doctor ran tests for another half-hour. No other ¡°firefly effect¡± cases materialized within the ship. Finally, Susie pushed the intercom button. "Captain, whatever happened to Mr. Gresens almost happened to Laurent Lapierre. The two events appear to be related. Laurent is handling it fine. His brain activity is stable but at four times his normal level. On the scanner, this looks like something is targeting a specific part of these men''s brains. Laurent seems to have survived it, but we need more information to diagnose anything at this point." She added, ¡°Sophie and I are fine.¡±


    The Captain spoke gently, "I don''t like what I''m hearing. Whatever this thing is, it jumped from one patient to another. Lock down the infirmary until we know more. No one gets in or out. Make sure Sophie does not walk in the infirmary for any reason, the last thing we need is to kill the first young space tourist..." The doctor stepped out of the intercom camera''s way revealing the smiling girl. There was a long silence. Obviously, the captain was unhappy. Judy ended the communication.


    "Judy''s under a lot of stress," offered the doctor to the girl. The doctor slipped open little packages and hooked up additional electrodes to Laurent''s body.


    On all screens, including the intercom and the medical equipment appeared the face of Marilyn Monroe. The image of the dead movie star was not smiling."Doctor, I have been monitoring your situation." The movie character from the 50''s was dressed as a nurse. "You are doing a wonderful job. I will offer any assistance you need."


    "Can you revive patient zero?"


    "No. I tried already. He was lobotomized."


    "What happened?"


    "Nothing known to mankind." The words from the computer powerhouse were chilling. ¡°I am going with some type of space anomaly, or even more remote.¡± Doctor Shin knew the artificial intelligence was surgical about her choice of words.


    "Glad to have you around, Marilyn," said the captain''s voice over the intercom.


    "What is wrong with daddy?" Sophie asked the screen next to her. Maybe Marilyn knew.


    The digital creature''s response was not as useful as Sophie had hoped. "Sophie, it pains me to say this, but I have no idea as of yet what is going on in this ship. Doctor, we will need to run some more tests. Can you connect six flat sensors to the base of Mr. Lapierre''s neck?" The doctor immediately began ripping open the sensor packages. "Sophie, it is too early to say, but I can say this much: his mind kicked me out of the main cortex activity when the condition began."


    "What do you mean?"


    "As you know, your father''s mental activity is rather faint. Before this moment, no one but he and I knew that I have been helping him, and he has been relying on some of my deep core operating systems to boost his signal efficiency to generate the digital world in which he lives. Alone he does not generate enough energy to sustain that house he lives in.  Without me, he lives in, well, a dark place. Whatever happened moments ago forced me, and very likely the constructs I was aiding him to build, out of his mind."


    "I am sorry, but I still don''t understand?" Sophie spoke for everyone in the infirmary.


    "Laurent uses me as a crutch. I gave him enough power so he could function. We are now detached, he is on his own for the first time in months. I am worried for him, but I agree with the doctor''s conclusion. Whatever is in his mind, the last thing he needs is one of us in there. Sophie, we need to run more tests. I don''t know what is happening but if I had to guess, I think you may know."


    "You don''t know?"


    "You cannot realize the importance of what I am to say here, but... yes. I don''t know. I am very powerful now; anticipation has become something of an autonomic response for me these days. Much like you breathe, or your heart beats. The same goes for both reasoning and deduction. This is the first time since 2054 that I not only failed to predict such a problem but have also failed to immediately arrive at a sufficient explanation given this much time afterward. I expected it because of you my dear. But give me a day or two. I do think you are somehow linked to this situation and therefore Laurent will be fine."


    The answer from Marilyn, mankind''s most powerful computer, was almost as strange as her father''s new condition. Sophie knew something very peculiar was happening. Droplets of sweat were forming on Laurent''s forehead. In his head, he was not having a great day.


    ¡°Sophie,¡± added Marilyn, ¡°darling, get used to things going crazy around you. I know this entire story is barely beginning.¡± She cut the feed before Sophie had a chance to respond.


    Sophie and Susie looked at Laurent, ¡°I wonder what is going on in there?¡± thought Susie to herself. Sophie looked at her as if she had heard her.

 Chapter 18

    True Biological Darkness


    Laurent¡¯s Digital Mind


    Laurent Lapierre''s internal digital world vanished.


    Abruptly, the veranda on which he''d been rocking his chair, along with the entire Victorian house and the digital backdrop collapsed inward and disappeared out of existence. Even though he had no eyes with which to see, a sort of mental afterimage remained, as if he''d been in a dark room when a camera flash had gone off. The world in which he had been living for over two years turned a blackness of death. To him, in this faster reality it had been four years since the accident. Someone or something had pulled a giant plug, or better yet, he was finally dead.


    He was alone, on the doorstep of death.


    A cold wind blew through his soul.


    He knew this place; he remembered this feeling of dread.


    The cripple had been here before and had prayed fervently to never return. This place was much worse than death, it was personalized torture. It was nightmare.


    Before Sophie had rescued him and allowed Electoral to generate for him a digital world in which his mind could take up residence, he had wandered in this nightmarish darkness for what felt to him like a maddening eternity. From the ambulance accident in Benton Harbor, he had been trapped in between worlds for months. In this awful place, time twisted and dilated, leaving minutes feeling like epochs.


    There was here ample pain, maddening suffering, and nothing else.


    The only reprieve from the darkness were nightmare images shown to him in endless loops. If Hell existed, this was it.


    Then there was a first sound of a tree cracking in a wet forest.


    This was it, he was back in Hell.


    For all purposes, he was once again a putrefying vegetable.


    No one knew it, but Electoral was the linchpin for Laurent''s psyche. One day, the artificial intelligence walked in his mind, as though a doctor in a patient''s room, and bluntly informed him of his current circumstances. She told him the amount of bio-electricity being generated by his brain was too low for him to survive in any normal or abnormal state of consciousness. His mind was only generating a fraction of a watt of energy, well below any lower limit that science required of a living, sentient entity. But Electoral, the artificial intelligence had an idea and an offer.


    He knew the artificial intelligence was right. He needed help; in this hell, he could feel his sanity on the verge of snapping completely. Soon, his mind would be the same charred wreck that his body had become. "Think of your girl," she said, "I need her happy, and only you can offer that. She is important to this world, to the Multiverse." The words ran true with the loving and desperate father. Electoral agreed to generate most of his world, to help him expand his horizon, and to source the energy that fueled his visions. She gave him a digital life raft in the middle of a sea of shadows. All she wanted in return was secrecy. Sophie needed a father, and the white lie of their collaboration was a small price to pay to give his little girl some semblance of her father''s return. Laurent agreed to omit the extent of Electoral''s complicity in his recovery, and if necessary, to lie about it.


    Father¡¯s did not lie easily to their prodigal child unless they were convinced the deception favored the child. Sophie wanted a father, not a whisper of digital activity.


    Finding himself once again in the frightful, mind-warping darkness was too much to handle. Laurent was forced to admit to himself he had forgotten how much the artificial intelligence had really been helping him. Somehow his link with Electoral had been severed. In years, it had never happened before, but she had warned it would be possible. Otherwise, he might conclude he had finally died and that Hell had swallowed him whole.


    Marilyn had warned him that during the ship''s Mars atmospheric entry, there could be interference and he might lose the connection. He was surprised by his own inability to generate even a single light. He tried to imagine a match, fire, or to form one lamp, but there was nothing, nothing. He was, once again, alone at the door of death.


    He waited. Focused. He tried to create a candle, a star, a smell.


    Nothing.


    He waited some more. Concentrated. Used every ounce of strength he possessed.


    Still nothing but the noises.


    Slowly, fear and shivers returned. His deep despair and depression, ensconced deep within his psyche, waxed and flourished in the dark as a plant might draw in light. He was a husk of a man, a speck of neural activity only inches from the grave. Laurent knew he was a mere whisper of life, one that continued to echo for the sole purpose of providing a little girl with a father. In his rising panic, all that he could think of was that someone or something had just taken away his last hope. He was once again alone in a decaying brain. Dead, rotting, and unable to serve even his modest hope to be present. However, he might, for Sophie.


    The dark feelings continued their unimpeded march to the fore of his mind. He felt cold, dampness, and smelled decay. Laurent''s body was clinically dead; it had been years since he last felt anything physical, much less was able to use his sense of smell, but here... In this nightmare, the bad sensations returned, the suicidal ones. He had been unable to conjure anything so simple as a soft glow under his digital constructs, but it seemed his torn and battered biological ones were more than up to the task.


    Electoral had once explained to him that a positive dreaming state required control and effort, more so than a negative one, much like a smile requires more facial muscle activity than an angry expression. A nightmare, like sadness and depression, is a more natural state of the subconscious than a happy dream. He doubted any of that applied to himself, at present. He had transgressed, slipped back to his primal self, and there was nothing he could do. This was not about energy, control, effort, or will. He was just a bad father, and this was the Hell he deserved. No, this was about justice.


    As he suspected, his mental anguish, which was doubling and redoubling by the second, was a prelude to the return of the physical pain. He was unable to see his body, but he felt like every one of his bones had been broken and dipped into acid. He began to see flashes of bad memories. A kaleidoscope of images fought each other for the honor of haunting him.


    "Marilyn?" he begged in the dark.


    There was no response. He was alone. He knew it. This was pointless.


    "Marilyn?" he tried again.


    Saying the name of his daughter was too hard. Maybe the ship had just exploded, and he was either dead or dying in space as Sophie''s lifeless body floated nearby. He wondered what could have happened in the real world, to cause the rupture in the connection. Was his daughter alright? The question gnawed at him remorselessly. He could not know with any certainty if he was finally dead. At this point, knowing whether he was dead or alive was a purely academic question. He was here, in the dark, and he had to deal with that. It was a sharp reminder that these moments with Sophie in the interface were unnatural; a gift given both before and after he was gone.


    The best-case scenario was that Electoral was just temporarily unable to access him, and she would soon return. He took hope in that. They were close to Mars, and Marilyn lived there. He knew his brain was now operating at elevated speed, serving to slow his perception of time. God knew how long he would have to survive here until help returned if return it did. Months could go by for him between Sophie''s daily visits, even if Electoral re-established the link in hours from Mars, he could expect to be lost in this Hell for an inconceivably long period of perceived time.


    He had to brace for the worst. The bad dreams were coming, and he would have to endure them. He had to preserve his sanity for his return to the game, and more importantly, his daughter.


    Then, like a hissing fog coalescing into a raging downpour, the nightmares returned.


    In the distance, Laurent heard dogs growling and snapping in rage. Dead flesh was being ripped from bones, human bones. Laurent hated dogs; as a child, he had been attacked by one. For this reason, his nightmares always began with them. He knew this particular nightmare. It was one of the worst. He concentrated, took deep breaths as Electoral had shown him, and tried some mental exercises. Nothing worked. Waking nightmares were worse than sleeping ones. They kept repeating themselves in loops until the dreamer gave up. If the dreamer was not instantly overwhelmed by fear, he was ground down by the combination of repetition and terror.


    In the dark, the beasts were circling, getting closer. He could hear them.


    In nightmares, emotions ran wild and unconstrained. Here, the brain''s control function was different; more primal. Depression was nothing more than a person''s barrier between dream and fading reality. He could not die, but he could most certainly suffer at extreme length. In this prison, he could watch himself be torn limb from limb, yet remain conscious. This was Laurent''s own private horror movie, custom flavored by his own mind, with a hard glaze of physical pain.


    He began to shiver, the cold rain was hitting the leaves of the damp forest around him. The noise of the drops grew to deafening slaps. In the darkness, behind, appeared shades of gray, dead things. Dying things. The forest itself was rotting, the bark of the trees was covered by fetid mold. In this darkness, all of his natural senses returned. Commonly, this would be a welcomed feeling, but in this place, it was anything but.


    Mud covered a small path leading to the dam cemetery. He knew this place. He had been here hundreds of times, and each time he pushed the gate open, the experience grew worse. He walked up the path, the socks in his shoes sponging up the brackish water rushing in to sit coldly between his toes. He pushed thorny branches away, only to have them slap back at him with the force of a whip crack.


    Even at his most desensitized, leprous state, this trifecta of emotion, imagery, and pain was capable of breaking him. After years in the comfortable Electoral-generated paradise, he was defenseless. Torture was not about pain, it was about hopelessness. Anyone could endure pain when it was temporary. Chronic, hand-built, custom-made conditions, all designed by his own mind to create said hopelessness was another animal altogether. Laurent gathered himself and tried to count his blessings.


    Unlike the last time, he was here, this time he knew Electoral existed and would help him when she could. Her return might not occur for days or months, but he knew she would be back. Laurent was alive, Sophie was alive, in those things he could comfort himself. Unless we aren''t, the rebellious, nightmarish half of himself cackled in response. He grimaced inwardly. Maybe the ship was gone and his daughter dead in the cold of space.


    There was no running away from the visions. He had tried so many times. Ahead of him was a path, he had to walk it. Unless he did, he might be dragged down it, flooded through it, or carried apart in pieces and reassembled at his destination. He arrived at the cemetery. Laurent pushed a rusty gate. The hinges let fly a long, groaning wail. It was despair made of sound. On the ground, slugs were sticking to damp leaves. The place was sad, so sad. He knew the way, of course. He walked to two crooked tombstones, a large one alongside with a smaller one. They were old and moldy; it had been decades since anyone had visited this place. In the center, the large stone read:This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    2041-2070 Susan Thompson Lapierre


    He closed his eyes. Susan was his dead wife, Sophie''s mother. Images of the accident on that horrible night began to flicker through his mind. He saw a road, slick from the falling rain, the auto-pilot was somehow broken. This was too much. Susan did not deserve to die in a stupid road accident. He had been driving, it was his fault, not the cars.


    He saw himself drive. His car hit a railing, and a beam of metal sliding in through the passenger door. Images of Susan''s severed head flashed before his eyes. In the back of the car, Sophie, only ten, was crying hysterically, her face now splattered with her mother''s blood. The metal beam crossed both sides of the car and, after killing Susan, had impaled him in the legs, pinning him down. The impact was so severe that the rotation of the steering wheel had broken his hands. Once the vehicle rested at the base of the hill, smoke began to fill the car. The interior of the vehicle was an abattoir of crimson.


    He opened his eyes.


    He was back in the cemetery. The headstone was a monument to his shame. He had been the one driving that night. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. He could feel them. He should have died along with his wife on that day. You could also say that Sophie, his sweet girl, metaphorically died that day. The person attending to his carcass in the spaceship was not the same carefree little girl.


    In the cemetery stood another tombstone next to his wife''s, a smaller one. Each time he read it, his heart sank:


    "Unborn brother of Sophie."


    At the time of the accident, Susan was eight months pregnant with Sophie''s brother. Because of the emotional trauma she had suffered that night, Sophie did not remember the accident; she had even forgotten her brother. That was a blessing, but Laurent could not forget. The crash was the last thing his real eyes had ever seen. To this day, he had never mustered the courage to tell Sophie about the child. She did not need to know. It was his shame, his burden, and it hurt.


    On that dreadful night, the family was on its way to the hospital when the crash happened. Susan''s contractions had begun. The steel railing that pierced Susan had no more respect for her child than it had for her or Laurent''s legs. It traversed and impaled her large belly as though it were made of air and not healthy flesh filled with life beyond its own. The sight of the water and blood gushing out of Susan''s body was beyond horror. The thought of the baby''s body being crushed and shoved into Laurent''s own was incomprehensible. This horrible image was the last thing Laurent saw on Earth. There were no words that could rightfully encapsulate or sufficiently describe those sights and emotions. They simply were. In the twisted cemetery of his mind''s eye, Laurent fell to his knees, weeping. He did so each time this nightmare played out, and each time it ate one more slice of his soul.


    He cried, unceasingly, for a long, long time. He cried for poor Susan, for their unborn son, and for Sophie. He cried.


    No, he thought to himself. Help was coming. He needed to take control, to find a way to help himself hang on before it was too late and his mind consumed itself. He could still help guide and protect Sophie, even from within his virtual reality. There was the game to win. Yet, even as he acknowledged these bright spots, his mental and physical anguish reattached themselves up to even new heights. It was a bad sign that even with hope, he was unable to keep the nightmares and pain at bay.


    A pale moon lit up the scene in front of him, revealing an old rotting wooden house in the distance. He now had to walk there. This was the next scene of the elaborate torture.


    Resolved, Laurent pushed himself up to his feet. He started along the rock-strewn path, stumbling and falling several times on the rounded wet stones. It was at this point the dogs from the woods re-engaged him, with a large black dog lunging at him from out of nowhere. As he tried to avoid the creature, he fell and hit the ground with a loud thump, and in a second the wet, stinking animal was all over him. He wrestled the dog and kicked it away. His face and hands were now covered in his own blood. His skin was ripped in multiple places from deep bites. Aside from the pain they engendered, he didn''t care overmuch. He very much doubted that he could die at all here from conventional means. No, the only danger this dream held for him was much more subtle and complete.


    The wooden house at the end of the path reminded Laurent of a skull. It had a dark V-shaped roof, windows in place of eyes and a dirty porch as its hideous, grinning mouth. There would be no disinfecting the black mold that was caked in layers on the building; the cracking mess needed to be burned down to the ground. He had tried, but his subconscious mind apparently knew his conscious one better than the opposite, and he was always defeated by either the stifling humidity or a sudden cloudburst. Laurent shivered; he knew what to expect next. Behind every door was a masked killer ready to drag him by the feet to the basement, where he would be dismembered using an ever-evolving cast of tools into the lifeless body he was in real life. Once he was sawed down to nothing, his daughter Sophie would walk in, see him as a pile of bloody mess, and try to help as the monster raped her. All Laurent could do at that point in the nightmare was howl silently.


    The idea that a mind becomes desensitized to the same horror if relives was untrue. He knew it. Instead, like torture, it simply got worse and worse until madness took over. When Electoral found him in his nightmares a couple of years ago, he was a shell of himself, walking endlessly in these mists. There wasn''t much of his mind left to salvage.


    In his private, time-accelerated world, it took Electoral, acting as a therapist, years before Laurent''s mind was strong enough to face Sophie in his new digital reality. He owed a lot to both Electoral and Melanie Bradford, a therapist Marilyn hired to help him. Today he found himself missing Melanie. She had given him tools for the next time he found himself in this predicament.


    As his mind found refuge in the recollection of the therapist, he saw a large wooden peg outside in the front yard of the house. Impaled on it was the rotting corpse of Melanie. The nightmares hated hope and spared no image. Every defense mechanism he deployed was quickly dissected and viciously countered by his subconscious.


    As he had worked to get back his sanity, Sophie had aged a year. He never let her see this side of him. She deserved that much, at the very least. He now lived only for her. Looking at the house, he wondered what Sophie would say to him, she would tell him to stay strong. He forced a smile on his face and walked up the stairs.


    The nightmare resumed, but this time there was a change.


    A bolt of lightning flashed in the sky far above in the clouds. The bolt wasn''t blue or white. Instead, it was shades of purple. There was no thunder, just a hissing sound as part of the bricks of the chimney exploded in hundreds of red sparks like a welder fixing a naval vessel. The spark-like bricks did not immediately cool off, and like fireflies, they flew down until they touched the ground.


    This event was not in the typical script of the nightmare. There was a second bolt, a brighter one, like a shooting star, which came crashing down through the roof of the house. Planks went flying. Something had arrived, he felt it. In the air, Laurent smelled ozone. In his heart, the horror was tainted by puzzlement. Someone was here sharing his nightmare. To Laurent, it could only be Electoral. He had to find her.


    The light gave him hope, but this sensation was premature. The nightmare resumed a heartbeat later. As if the house were a living organism, the roof healed. Planks jumped back up into place. He had to keep his guard up; there was a chance he was in a different Hell, some new variant with a different ending. An instant later, he heard a scream deep in the house, a child''s scream. The screaming voice wasn''t Sophie''s.


    He ran up the hill to the porch and kicked the front door as hard as he could. In his nightmare, his body worked just fine, at least until something disfigured it beyond all hope movement. The back of the wood of the door slammed against the monster''s face. The role of tormentor was played by an agglomeration of every shitty horror movie he''d ever seen. The awful thing was all teeth, tentacles, scales, patches of bristly spider hair. The door slammed against the putrid bandaged face of a human. The miscreation grunted and dropped its bone saw. Laurent knew this butcher well, but today he did not care about him. If there was a child in this horrible place, he was going to find the poor thing. The door swung back his way on the hinges. He kicked it again and once again felt the thick door collide solidly with the creature''s misshapen skull. The monster grunted and stumbled backward as Laurent dashed into the house, toward the stairs.


    Laurent knew this house, every step of it, every rusted nail. He had bled and died here on every plank.


    There was another scream, but this time it was more discernible, a child, a boy upstairs.


    Laurent dashed up the rotten stairs. As expected, his foot shot right through a plank, and his leg went down up to the knee. Below the staircase, the hands of some other monster grabbed his foot. Laurent knew what to do. He pulled as hard as he could, then reversed the force and smashed down on the hairless, sharp-toothed, milky-white things that always lived under the steps. His heel hit the creature in the jaw, and it released his foot. At Laurent''s back, the first monster was already getting up. It was wearing a blood-soaked doctor''s mask.


    The monster had foregone its bone saw in favor of a curved meat hook. It swung the hook, landing a deep puncture to the middle of Laurent''s back. In real life, Laurent would have died, his spinal cord severed as he bled out, but this place was different. Laurent heard a third boyish scream; it still came from upstairs. Laurent did not care about himself, but the boy was in danger. He kicked out blindly toward his back and felt his foot connect with a loud thump. Successive thumps followed as the hook-wielding freak tumbled down the stairs.


    Laurent used both hands to pull himself up, then turned his attention to the hook in his back. He pulled it out with both hands, shivering in torment. He could still move, though. This was a dream and biology was sketchy at best. Further owing to this being a dream, he had at least a vague idea of what was to come next, even though he''d never experienced this particular scenario before. This was a chase scene so loved by the horror flicks. He was going to help the child. He did what might be considered ¡°normal¡± under those circumstances: he grabbed the back of the monster''s head and shoved the hook deep into the monster''s left eye. Black blood sprayed out, coating the stairs.


    The desperate father resumed his frantic climb to the second floor. At the top were several closed doors aligned on each side of a long hallway. The last door, at the end of the hallway, was ajar. There was a dim white light emanating from inside the partly opened door. This was another new element to the nightmare. Without pause, Laurent dashed to the door, half expecting the other doors to open and reveal some new threat as he passed, but they did not.


    He recognized this last room and peered through the cracked door. It was the bedroom of dead twin babies. In one corner were two empty baskets that normally rocked slowly as music from wound-up toys played. This was borrowed from a horror movie he had seen as a child. Laurent opened the door.


    A quick inspection showed in the middle of the room stood the immaterial shadow of a young boy surrounded by an aura of pure white light. The boy was inspecting his hands as if seeing them for the first time. Behind Laurent, limping down the hallway, the monster was coming closer, its meat hook still buried to the hilt the thing''s eye. In the room, the immaterial ghost of the boy was inspecting himself and appeared oblivious to danger around him. Laurent walked into the room and closed the door behind him. His body would have to suffice as an obstacle against the arrival of the monster. He''d buy the boy time.


    "Who are you?" asked Laurent. There was no answer. While holding the door in his back, Laurent extended his hand to help the boy step out of the light. He could hear the monster getting closer on the other side of the door. The monster began to kick. Soon, it ripped a large hole in the door, which it began expanding using additional kicks.


    "Who are you?" panted Laurent.


    The boy did not seem worried by the horror of his surroundings; he was busy observing his own body, as though fascinated by it. In the corner of the room was a large mirror covered by spider webs. The boy walked closer to the mirror as he remained surrounded by the light. The boy''s face was round, his hair was blond. The brightness of the light was slowly dissipating. His body was slowly taking material shape and entering this world.


    This strange situation did not seem to deter the monster on the other side of the door. It hit the door with the force of a tank. With all his strength, Laurent could barely keep the door from flying off its hinges. The monster switched back to the hook and began using it to tear away more chunks of wood. With each hit, a larger hole opened above Laurent''s shoulder. The butcher would soon break in. Laurent was entirely at a loss, now. This fit nothing within the range of his experience. He was completely overwhelmed by the situation.


    He needed to think fast. Electoral was still absent, and this helpless boy was here. The boy did not feel like everything else in the dream, that is, an element or character produced by his own mind. Laurent assumed the presence of both the boy and Electoral were mutually exclusive; to have the former appear just after the disappearance of the latter couldn''t be a coincidence. Electoral must have been forced out of his mind because of this boy, but as to why or how, he hadn''t a clue. His best guess was that somehow the boy was related to Electoral, a new entity born of Electoral''s ongoing research into artificial life. The boy''s reactions conveyed a certain level of intelligent unsophistication, like those of a newborn.


    It was the best theory that Laurent, in pain and afraid, could come up with. The aura must have been Electoral''s control over this environment. The power and the light were slowly fading away.


    The door was seconds away from being demolished, and the boy, still in danger, had to be protected. Using a foot, Laurent reached over and slid a corner of a large bed to hold the bottom portion of the door. "We have to go!" he shouted, frantically.


    The boy turned to look at him. For the first time, he seemed to interact with his environment. There was no answer, but also no fear. Laurent wondered where they could go that might possibly be safe. The only other way out was the partly boarded-up window. Between two pushes by the monster, he ran to the window and pulled a board off. Rusted nails barely held the planks in place. The others would have to break. The monster was slowly moving the bed out of the way.


    As the door opened, and the masked creature finally entered, Laurent reached into the light and grabbed the arm of the boy. His hand passed through the body of the boy as if he were a ghost. A solid object came down on the back of Laurent''s head. He lost consciousness.

 Chapter 19

    When Laurent regained consciousness, he was still in the nightmare. His body was wracked by pain. Sophie¡¯s father was still lost in his dying mind, but his projected body was tied by heavy chains to a butcher''s table in the basement of the haunted house. The light and the boy were gone. The nightmare had resumed its flow as if the boy had never interrupted it.


    Above Laurent''s prone body lingered one of the masked killers. It was wearing dirty blue medical scrubs stained with dirt, oil, and blood. In its left hand, it was holding a tile grinding tool.


    The basement was dark and foul-smelling. A single light bulb flickered uncertainly from overhead. Laurent was still reeling from the encounter with the boy on the upper floor. He didn''t know what to think of it. Laurent looked around and saw he was alone with the beast. At least the monster was not torturing the boy or a simulacra of Sophie. With the push of a button, the grinder wheel began to spin with a monotonous high-pitched wail. The noise was intolerable, and the torture began at once.


    The next few minutes became hazy as Laurent''s world shrunk to the precise dimensions of conscious, rational thought that the tile grinder allowed him. The butcher took his time to cut away the skin and the bones of his legs. The pain was beyond maddening, but somehow in this dream state, Laurent did not pass out. He yelled and gibbered in agony for what felt like an eternity. As if to admire his work, the butcher regularly stopped cutting and took a step back while tilting its head. At some point, the ugly creature removed the blood-covered mask, revealing his mummified face. It licked some of the blood from the mask, smiled hideously, and resumed.


    This was pointless, Laurent thought. He''d only just arrived a few hours ago, by his best guess, and already he felt himself beginning to crack. He began to cry. He felt something else, as well: pure, unadulterated rage.


    Then the basement door creaked open.


    The sound was not part of the regular string of events of this nightmare, so it was a relief to the suffering Laurent. Unable to turn his head, Sophie''s father heard the footsteps of someone walking down the creaky stairs. The monster acted as if he did not hear the steps.


    From the corner of his eye, through the sweat and blood, Laurent saw the boy and part of his diffuse light descending the steps. The light around the boy was almost gone, but there remained a glow which filled the darkness of the basement. The boy stared detachedly at Laurent''s dismembered body as if he was unaware of the horror.


    "Get away," Laurent managed to croak. Most of his teeth were now broken, and he was spitting blood. "Save yourself."


    "Why?" answered the boy.


    "He will get you."


    "Who?"


    The grinder began buzzing again. The boy did not seem to hear its awful shrieking whine. That was a good thing.


    "Help me!" begged Laurent as the cutting tool dug into what remained of his left arm. Blood splattered the walls and oozed from his mouth. With rising panic, he realized he was losing grasp with reality.


    "You are Laurent? I saw you in her mind," spoke the angel. "You are the original progenitor of the one called Sophie?"


    Laurent was weak, barely conscious. The words hurt him. "Yes," he whispered as blood bubbled down his face. He saw the boy walk closer and touch him gently. The touch sent electrical current. There was an organic connection.


    Then there was silence.


    The horror and the nightmares evaporated.


    ***


    Once more, Laurent swam back toward consciousness. This time, however, he awoke to find his body whole. The blood and the horror around him were gone. He was unsure of how long he had slept but counted each second of it as a blessing nonetheless. He was dressed in a long blue robe, and he stood barefoot on his favorite beach. Water and sand were crawling gently between his toes. This wasn¡¯t his ordinary reality, it felt more real.


    The young blond boy stood silently at his side, holding his right hand. Laurent looked down at his face. The young guest was dressed in a pair of white shorts and a worn out and over-washed t-shirt that might have once been light purple. The mysterious guest''s shorts and T-shirt were oddly familiar; looking at it from closer, they were once his. This was how Laurent liked to dress at home in his recliner. The borrowed version was a partly scaled-down version.


    Ahead the island peeking off a perfect sea was Bora-Bora, the was the most luxurious place on Earth. The surf was rolling in gently, carrying the warm water just to the edge of where they walked. The waxing tide softly brushed their feet as they strolled aimlessly. The feeling of water in and of itself was remarkable. After nearly fourth imaginary years without any feeling or sensation in his digital world, he felt human once more. An hour ago he would have scoffed over the notion that any artificial environment could best Electoral''s for accuracy and realism, yet here he walked, still marveling at the delicious sensation of warm water on his feet, an ocean breeze mussing his hair, and silky-fine sand between his toes.


    He slipped from Hell to Heaven in seconds.


    He smiled at his guest. Laurent stopped walking for a moment and twisting his ankles he dug his feet into the warm, wet sand. The boy loved to see Sophie''s father smile. There was no greater pleasure to him. The clean, tropically aroma of this place''s air filled his lungs. Laurent was in paradise, a complete reversal of fortune than the cemetery house basement from only a few moments ago. He felt stronger and more whole than he had in ages.


    He looked around and realized that not only was this next to Tahiti but more specifically, this was the beach that Marilyn often brought him to during his extremely delicate rehabilitation following his accident. In the distance was an irregular volcano that resembled nothing so much as the top of an ornate crown. The volcano featured a massive stone arch under which a small plane could fly. She liked to make an entrance, occasionally utilizing the archway for one of her trademark introductions. The arch, being something wholly of Electoral''s creation, confirmed for Laurent that he was still in the digital world and not somehow alive or in heaven. The trees of the forest to the right were lush and brimmed with the sound of animal and insect life.


    He could feel a consistent pulse of energy traveling up his right arm, from where the boy held him. It was clear that the boy was the source of this vision, and was somehow feeding it directly into Laurent''s brain as energy running up his arm. Even clothed with the form and trappings of humanity, it was obvious that this boy was different. The mere fact that the child''s first attempt at an immersive digital reality had outgunned Marilyn''s version spoke volumes. This was special on many levels.


    Laurent touched his own face; he was freshly shaved. No words came to him. He could only savor this reality. Laurent forced himself to turn his attention to his little savior. The kid was cute. Laurent was struck with the impression that the boy couldn''t decide whether to fall into his arms crying, or flash a brilliant smile and skip his way down the beach. His eyes were blue, his hair was now cut short. This was the same boy he had seen in the second floor of the rotten nightmare house, but the child was now more beautiful. He was radiant.


    Could this be some kind of digital offspring from Electoral? No other immediate possibilities came to mind.


    "Daddy?" asked the boy speaking from memory. Laurent smiled.


    "My name is Laurent Lapierre. You saved me. Thank you."


    "Are you Daddy?"


    "You may call me daddy if you want. That would be fine with me."


    "Sophie calls you Daddy. Where are we?"


    He wasn''t sure but ventured a guess. "We are both in my mind. I am a human who lives with his mind connected to virtual reality, though mine is not quite so...robust...as this one,¡± said Laurent as a close breaker threw forward a fine spray of mist.


    "I am confused. I do not understand."


    "You and I both my fortunate friend. I think we have a lot of time. I fear if you let my hand go, I may return to a bad place. For the moment, we must touch our hands, do you mind?"


    The boy released his grip carefully, and Laurent plunged immediately back into the darkness of the humid cemetery. He was back in horror. Seconds later, he felt the boy grab his hand, and he was back on the beach.


    "I do not understand," the boy repeated.


    "We have time," replied Laurent. "That is the one thing we have here. Why don''t you tell me your name, if you have one?"


    "Malik. I am a Metil from the Purple world." As if the boy was under a compulsion to continue, he said, "Can you draw me a sheep?"


    "What?"


    "Can you draw me a sheep?"


    The sea was gone. They were no longer on a beach. Instead, they were in the middle of a nameless desert. He recognized the boy''s new appearance. He was The Little Prince, a character from one of Sophie''s favorite bedtime stories. This was strange. Laurent was somehow talking to a fictional character.He''d gone from a horror movie to a child''s bedtime story in the blink of an eye. In Laurent''s other hand was a long wooden stick, a shepherd''s staff. "Draw me a sheep," insisted the boy.


    Laurent drew something in the sand below their feet.


    "That is not a sheep."


    This was too strange. Was he playing some kind of imagery drawn from his own memories? Laurent found it difficult not to do as the boy asked, given that the child had saved him from the nightmare. So that he might draw better, he let go of the child''s hand. Instantly, he was back in the dark cemetery. In the distance, the wild dogs began to howl and bay as they caught his scent. Curiously, though, the boy was still standing next to him. He was oblivious to the horror of the place. The boy was pointing to the ground where Laurent had drawn a sheep. Laurent would not, could not, stay here; anywhere else was better. He grabbed the small hand and instantly returned back to the beach. Whatever was going on, anything was better than that abominable place of mutilation.


    "Draw me a sheep!"


    "Malik," he used the name to get the creature''s attention. It worked. "Be careful. We are in my dream, and my mind was hurt a short time ago. It remains injured to this day. I think you are helping yourself and may be learning by looking at memories. I would love to see the real you." The boy looked up at the Sun in the sky, it was a strange color; yellow did not exist in the quantum realm.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Malik partly understood what the human said. In Sophie''s head, the impressions from the mind made it clear that Laurent was fragile. Malik''s features slowly changed; he now had black eyes and black hair. The boy''s beauty faded to be replaced by a truly average looking boy. This wasn''t what Laurent had asked for, but Malik lacked the vocabulary, at present, to describe exactly how different from Laurent he was. If Malik had shown him his true form, Laurent would be left with a firefly-sized flashing light that he had no hope of holding hands with.


    "Much better, you remind me of my daughter."


    The boy also looked hurt. His hand was holding his ribs.


    "Are you fine? Do you know who you are?"


    "Yes. I am a Metil. A creature from a different world, a different reality. I was tasked with monitoring a rift that opened between your world and ours. I escaped in it. If I ever return home, I will be killed," he finished with resentment. Laurent was impressed by the clarity of the explanation.


    "You are not related to Electoral? Or Marilyn?"


    "I do not know these names. I have never seen you before, yet I know you," said the child.


    "You do?"


    The decor changed. The pair were at a small state fair back on Earth. All around them were rides, games. Hundreds of families enjoying a perfect afternoon. Laurent knew this place; he had been here several years ago. Malik''s virtual creation of the memory was leagues above Marilyn''s worlds; he could feel the joy of the attendants in the air.


    "You are him!" the boy pointed with a finger at one of the kiosks. A happy family was buying popcorn. Laurent saw Sophie. She was eight years old. Susan, his ex-wife, was there. He saw his former self reach into his wallet to pay for the food. The recent trauma from his nightmares helped him keep his composure. This was the happiest day of his life. "You are the one Sophie calls Daddy. This is where I saw you the clearest in her mind." Moments ago he had been consumed by his own despair, and now he was reliving one of the most joyous moment of his life.


    "You know Sophie?"


    "Yes, I spoke to her moments ago. I read her memories."


    "She is my daughter. I love her," offered Laurent.


    The boy wrestled with the concept for a moment. "Love. Yes, we also have something similar in my world. The Sophie loves you also, that is undeniable. There is also more, a bond. The strongest of links."


    Laurent''s eyes began to tear up. The boy looked at him, puzzled by his reaction. "This is good," said Laurent, as if to reassure the boy.


    "This world, these..."


    "Emotions," said Laurent.


    "Your world is so different, so... beautiful."


    The memories were somewhat askew, vis-a-vis reality, Laurent noticed. He looked around in the amusement park and saw that these images were not his. The colors were brighter, the candy larger. This was the fair of Sophie as she recalled it; a memory built by the mind of a child. Laurent was unable to say anything intelligent. The boy looked at him.


    "Thank you," said Laurent finally.


    "Why?"


    "To me, this memory is extremely pleasing. A good memory."


    "Daddy, why is Sophie now bigger?"


    The question startled him and he pointed at the unfolding images from the carnival. "Sophie is my child. This is Susan, her mother. We are the two parents of Sophie. Our children come out small from the body of the mother and with years get bigger."


    "You reproduce in pairs?"  The boy continued. "That must be very... convenient."


    "In your world, there is more than two needed to reproduce?"


    "Yes. Each of us is different. I was created by three groups. I am different, an outcast. All the many of the groups who united to create me passed at the time of my awakening."


    "Is that a problem?"


    "Yes. Sad. We rarely have death. We are simply forced to dilute ourselves to form many others as a penalty of destruction."


    "I am sorry to hear that." The boy was trying to hold tears.


    "That is my shame to bear. In my life, I may not take part in any reproduction ritual, but I will give parts to the new entities."Laurent felt there was no point in pressing the issue.


    So he''d been wrong, earlier. The artificial intelligence on Mars had no part in this creature. He was talking to some type of alien, someone from a different world. Maybe he was dead, or he could simply be dreaming in a state in which his mind was protecting him. The cause was not important; Malik sounded as though he needed help since he could only return home on pain of death.


    Laurent saw his family pay for the candy and his former self-board a ride with Sophie. Holding Malik''s hand firmly, Laurent and the alien followed from a distance. The family passed the barriers and sat in a ride made of large cups. Above them, a large sign read "Wonderland."


    "I know these creatures." pointed Malik at the large caterpillar sitting on a giant mushroom.


    ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°They were with Sophie.¡± Laurent smiled and knew better than question a child.


    "Do you want to try?" said Laurent, pointing at the ride.


    "You think I will like it?"


    "Yes." They walked over. The dream was so elaborate, they interacted as normal patrons. They boarded a different cup.


    "Malik, hold the ring in the middle." It was hard for Laurent to keep his eyes on the boy. The vicinity of his family was a distraction.


    The ride began as the pair held a finger on the central ring. Malik was amused. Laurent let the boy enjoy the ride. He could not touch his daughter, but as the giant cups moved closer, he was able to feel alive. He knew this little creature was an orphan, rejected from his world and now a castaway in a reality that must be terribly confusing. Laurent''s paternal instincts were kicking in. The man had found the one creature in the universe more vulnerable than his poor self. Their reunion wasn''t to his benefit, he was helping the boy. He smiled at Malik, placed his hand on his shoulder and decided he would let himself be human.


    Laurent''s emotions were genuine and immediately his kindness was felt by the visitor. Malik looked up as his new friend, his only friend and smiled. Sophie was so lucky. The boy truly enjoyed being with Laurent.


    "Are you hungry?" asked Laurent as the ride began to slow down. He knew the child''s attention had to be grasped or he would sit in the cup for hours. The boy had no clue. They disembarked, Malik did so somewhat reluctantly. Laurent changed the topic. "You talked about a rift?"


    "Yes. This is how I arrived here. My world is different, not like this."


    "Maybe you can show me. We are in my dream, you seem to control of what we see. If you wish for me to see your world, maybe...."


    In the blink of the eye, the Michigan Fair disappeared. Laurent no longer had a body. He was floating in a purple hue. There were no forms, no shapes as if he was back in the darkness. He heard the voice of Malik.


    "This is my world," he said with apprehension. Laurent tried very hard not to panic.


    "Do not let go of me."


    "I will not," Malik reassured him.


    "I like it," Laurent lied. "Where are we?"


    "Let me see." Some of the colors shifted. Laurent felt like he was a shark floating in the sea. He had a sixth sense, much like the smell of a shark smelling blood.He had many deep feelings, he just was unable to understand them. Whatever was this world and these life forms, Malik was quite different.


    "We move by willing it. We drift. Let me show you."


    Laurent was taken over by the strangest feeling. Like walking off a cliff and falling without moving, the sea of purple surrounding him changed. Small balls became larger and larger. It was as if he had been dropped into a large cube filed with Ping-Pong balls and each was either expanding or shrinking to the size of a grain of sand.


    "I hope the others do not find us."


    "We are not in your world. We are still in my mind."


    "You think. Found it," said Malik. "You see?" Laurent did not see anything different. "Now we move to the right." Laurent was lost. No wonder Malik failed to understand his nightmare.


    "Let''s not get close to home. I do not want them to see me," Malik said.


    "This is not your world, Malik. We are still dreaming. We are still in my mind."


    ¡°What is dreaming?" the boy asked. Laurent had given a lot of thought to the question.


    "My species evolved on a planet that rotates on itself around a large energy source: we call it the Sun. As a result, we have daylight periods where our Sun gives light and heat, and nighttime periods when we must place ourselves in a waiting state until the energy returns. During our pauses at nighttime, which we call ¡°sleep,¡± our bodily functions are slowed and we do not move. Some of our biological systems are barely still functioning at that point. Our minds must also pause and function in a different stage, known as dreaming."


    "Please continue, this is very interesting." Laurent did not like this purple haze.


    He continued. "During our dreams, we are capable of imagination, of projecting to ourselves illusory sounds and images. The only limit lies in the individual dreamer''s capacity to imagine. Our race does not really understand the process of dreaming. My physical body was greatly damaged in an accident. I entered what seemed to be a permanent dream state. I am the only human permanently in the dream."


    "That may explain what happened on your ship," Malik said.


    "What?"


    "When I first visited your world and passed the rift, I entered the mind of the Sophie. It was a beautiful place, a strange place she calls Wonderland. I do not know why I have this knowledge or why I can communicate in this strange language. We had an interaction. I was able to see many images from her life. I saw you." He paused, then resumed. "When I returned with others from the Group, I was forced to escape from them and return to your ship. I slipped into the first person I saw, he was not the same color as the Sophie. Unlike with the Sophie, that person''s mind seemed closed to me. I pushed very hard to open it. I broke something. I heard the person say many things before everything turned to black. I looked around, and I saw you. You had a different color."


    "This is very hard to understand," admitted Laurent. He did not know about the death of the fellow passenger back on the ship.


    "Agreed."


    "But I thank you for coming to me," Laurent said sincerely.


    "So this is not my world?" asked Malik. "This is your imagination, your dream state only?"


    "Yes. Well, I think so."


    "Daddy, that is impossible. After I visited Wonderland, the Sophie followed me into my world."


    "What?" Laurent exclaimed.


    "Yes, as I left her, left her dream or her mind, she followed me to this place. I convinced her to go back."


    "Did she? Is she okay?"


    "I believe so. She even hurt me, but I could tell that it was not her desire. I know now that the rift is a door between your world and mine. Yet we are back in my world, it seems. How can you know whether you are in the real world or in your dream world?"


    "Good question," said Laurent. "Little is known by us of our dream state. Our minds are capable of pushing us out of the dream each time we are in danger of dying. Our minds wake us up if we die in a dream. My mind cannot wake me up."


    "So when you die in the dream, you return to your physical world? When you die in your physical world, where do you go?"


    "I do not know."


    "This is strange."


    "What?"


    Laurent felt something in the distance. It was as if he were standing next to a forest fire, unable to see and hear the fire, yet he could smell the smoke and feel the radiative heat.


    "They are here."


    "Who?"


    "The Group."


    Laurent felt the boy''s fear. They were back in hostile territory.


    "Take me back!" Laurent implored to the boy.


    In a blink of the mind, they both were back on the beach generated by Laurent''s mind away from the creatures. The sky was blue. But Malik was his normal self.


    Laurent and Malik both knew they had not only flew back to the Purple, but they were also a thought away from his real world. Both avoided the discussion on purpose. "Your world is much better than mine," said Malik.


    "I know. But this beautiful beach is only my version of things. Reality is much different. Want me to take you to my favorite place in my world?"


    "Yes... Daddy."


    He did not deserve to be called by this name, Sophie would not approve, but Laurent could not get himself to correct the boy. Instead, he just squeezed the small hand.


    "If you are going to call me Daddy, you will need to call..." the next words were difficult to say. The image of the small tombstone from the cemetery in his nightmare was on the forefront of his mind. "You will have to refer to Sophie as sister next time we see her." The situation was surreal to Laurent. He would cross that bridge with Sophie once they came to it.


    Laurent tried to concentrate and change the environment but was unable to do so. "Malik."


    "Yes?"


    "You decide what we see. Can you wish we were in the location I want to go at the moment?"


    The boy closed his eyes. The first thing that came to him was music. There was diffuse light and soft guitar. When the alien opened his eyes, he was high on a mountaintop overlooking Rio de Janeiro. Above them stood the famous Christ the Redeemer statue, its arms forever open in silent benediction. The sun was rising. In the sky, hundreds of white seagulls were swooping in circles. The sea was deep blue hundreds of feet below his feet.


    "This is wonderful," said the boy. ¡°Your world is pure marvel.¡±


    ¡°I know, I wish I could see it again...¡±


    They were alone on the stone ledge. Next to them was a little stone table with two chairs, a table with a chess board on it. The wind was mild and warm.


    "If you are to call me daddy, I must treat you like my son."


    "Please do."


    "Sophie, my daughter, hates playing chess with me. I always dreamt my son would play chess with me. Would you?" He pointed at the board.


    "A game?" the boy was amused.


    "Yes."


    "Nothing would please me more."


    Both sat at opposite ends of the table, one hand locked over the board. Laurent began to align the pieces with his free hand. "Unless you have a more urgent place to be?" he continued.


    The boy looked around. The beauty of this place was undeniable. "I have all the time in the world." Malik smiled brightly.


    "Two worlds, actually!"


    Moments ago he was in hell.


    Latin music began to play.


    Energy was flowing between the pair as the binding began. The music intensified as the Sun rose in the distance over the sea. They were here to stay, and nothing could get these two back to the realities of their respective worlds. Doors were opening, life was changing as the pair played.

 Chapter 20

    Meanwhile on Mars


    "Fuck, do I love my job," said the athletic man as he and his team boarded the strange underground monorail. Arrived at the end of a long corridor carved in the rocky Martian underground, he could finally go up. The security guard was noticeably uncomfortable wearing a suit and a tie, but the masquerade was a small price to pay for letting him take part in today''s historical test. His name was about to enter the history books.


    "Talk about luck," answered the team supervisor, equally thrilled and making his way in. Below the surface of the red planet, the dozen or so well-dressed passengers crammed into the monorail to the hotel at the surface. Shabby doors closed behind them.


    ¡°I haven''t seen the damn Sun in over two weeks."


    "Guys, focus on the job, don''t get out of character." Alex tugged on the large belt buckle of his pants with both hands, as if to play the role of some type of Italian mobster. "Call me Giuseppe." Everyone but Gerard, the odd man out in the back laughed.


    An oxygen-nitrogen mix hissed into the box, pressurizing it up to 400 millibars and lifting part of the omnipresent stench. The men''s lungs felt better under the increased air pressure. The term "air" on Mars was used loosely. As long as the oxygen was cut with nitrogen, it was "Martian air." It took a bit more than a minute for the cabin''s air pressure to rise by a hundred millibars. Below, on the surface of Mars, where the staff lived away from radiation, the air was kept a hundred times the typical Martian atmospheric pressure but still only a third of Earth¡¯s generous air. That made the staff''s living environment at about 300 millibars. Breathing was hard. Above, in the luxury hotel, the guests were allowed to waste more, hence they were given a hundred more millibars of pressure.


    In the monorail, the red lights on the panel finally turned green as the sensor hit the desired pressure. A window seemed to cracked but did not break. A lock below the floor released the monorail to its ascent. The cage began along a strange fifteen-degree slope.


    "My name is Joe, I own an oil company in Texas," rehearsed another. The passengers laughed.


    "The view upstairs from the Slipper will be fucking amazing. Who has been up there?"


    "I have. I cleaned it two weeks ago. Fucking amazing!" replied Alex. The constant vulgarity of the staff annoyed the hotel management, but tolerating this conduct away from guests was a healthy compromise with the worker''s union. These people were here for a minimum of two years, and stress management was at the heart of a healthy long-term stay.


    The group¡¯s discreet housing was built forty feet below the Martian surface at the base of this massive mountain on which the hotel rested. The bedrock offered radiation protection from the gamma rays of the Sun. On Earth, the atmosphere absorbed the dangerous rays.


    To the naked human eye, the desert here was a slight red. Not as dark as brick but closer to a bag of cement tinted with paprika. Mars was like the Nevada desert in all other aspects. The costumed workers began the climb up this red bedrock of a tall mountain to the famous hotel located almost a kilometer above. The group of "volunteers" had been selected amongst the two hundred or so workers because their jobs kept them hidden well below the surface most of the year. Their radiation levels were well below average and taking a trip in the Slipper would do them no harm. On Mars, each person wore a radiation dosimeter. Once an individual reached thirty millisieverts of exposure, the worker was forced to complete his or her contract below the surface, away from the Sun. It was a punishment no one desired.


    A minute after departure, the monorail broke the surface. Above the white Sun had green tints. The slow vertical climb shifted up to a twenty-degree angle as the box continued. The electrochromic walls quickly adapted to the natural light, tinting to blue as it rose on the red horizon. Time had grown short: in less than ten hours, the Airbus A2070, already in deceleration, would land and the Glider needed a test under its belt. Aboard was the world¡¯s young sweetheart and her disabled father.


    The Slipper parked above was probably the only thing on Mars built without the blessing of Electoral. The digital goddess paid for the hotel, the staff salaries, and the game itself. Conversation among the staff muffled as the monorail continued its climb. Most wondered why Electoral was opposed to the glass glider. It was the most exciting thing built on Mars.


    The conversation eventually settled on the famous Sophie Lapierre and her father Laurent, both currently aboard the Airbus. Everyone was anxious to see her. "Laurent is fine," a man concluded referring about the health scare. "That thing should know better than mess with him, the man has seen worse." They also worried about the Light Drive sending the plane out of alignment, to slow down using the Martian orbital push laser, the ship would need to realign.


    As the monorail reached about a thousand feet, as the horizon began to curve, the team saw above the undersurface of the famous hotel. At the middle point in the ascent there was a loud metallic thump, and the climb halted. From this altitude, the view of the Martian landscape was lovely. In the distance, the Sun was rising.


    Only residents knew the faint gasses in the weak atmosphere gave the light variation get colors as it moved up the faint atmospheric line. The orb was now a small white dot with pink hues, subjectively about a hundred feet above the uneven ground. In the monorail cabin, red lights were blinking on the door''s command console. Several alarms should be sounding, but they had long been unplugged. The box was stuck and no one seemed to really care. Mars was to space exploration what Italians were to the British: organized carefree chaos.


    "Shall we?" asked one man. They''d all either seen or heard of this happening before.


    Everyone moved to the left side of the cabin feet on the edge of the floor. With a blink of the eye, they all jumped up and down a couple of times. Their weight rattled the monorail. On the third jump, metal clanked and the monorail bounced back on the rail only to resume its upward progression to the hotel above. The blinking of the alarms stopped.


    "This can''t happen to tourists. They''d freak out," one laughed.


    "These are rusted Martian steel. We''re on the aluminum track below the hotel. Guests won''t ride down to the surface on this line, our place is not for them. They have a different tract to visit the ground. Should be a smoother ride. This doesn''t count." Everyone, except Gerard, laughed.


    "We''ll know soon enough. Marilyn granted permission to her players to take a ride in the Slipper only once they drop out of the game. But legally, President Emilio reminded them they are free to do so at any time. Marilyn is very protective."


    Attempts to explore Mars had historically been riddled with strange accidents and software glitches. A late-night comedian once said, "Let''s welcome the first Martian cosmonauts," as he placed a small box filled with ashes on his desk. In 2067, the Electoral system, for reasons unknown, used her considerable wealth to expatriate herself to Mars from her Bahamas compound on Earth. Civil engineers to this day remained amazed at the computer''s resourcefulness in conducting the relocation. She built shuttles, rockets and all the myriad other supplies needed for the trip, then launched thousands of modules from Earth. Marilyn built the Electoral Center a couple of hundred miles from the hotel, and in that home-away-from-home, she even constructed living quarters for her creator, the richest man in the universe. Of the 127 contestants remaining, after the death of one passenger aboard the Airbus, the next round would eliminate half. After two rounds played in the hotel, the 32 remaining contestants would travel to the Center in what was certain to be a ratings record.


    Back in 2067, there were no structures or habitations on Mars aside from a single two-man scientific polar outpost. The manned structure was nothing more than a small trailer-like box. Even as recently as 2068, no one had taken the possibility of recreational travel to Mars seriously. Yet here they were. Electoral was a woman of her words, driven and efficient beyond any human standard, even when she was forced to work with humans to effectuate her will. The fact that the finalists were less than a day away from arriving at this new frontier gave testimony to that fact.


    Eight years ago, Electoral used her vast wealth and acquired the Peninsula chain of hotels, owner of the Holiday Inn brand. The same day she announced plans for a new touristic structure on Mars, of all places. The Holiday Inn Mars would be the first exclusive five-star vacation resort in a hostile environment. This same structure built on top of Mount Everest would have been met with less skepticism. Electoral''s determination to meet the 2072 deadline had been made evident at Airbus'' annual shareholder meeting back in 2069. The CEO was interruped by the beautiful digital creature on the screen behind him.


    Marilyn apologized for the interruption, thanked everyone, blew a virtual kiss in the direction of awestruck CEO, and explained that she needed a craft to transport passengers back and forth to Mars in three years. She promptly uploaded the completed schematic layouts of the Airbus 2070, including the plans for what she called the Light Drive. In exchange for the engineering and preparatory work, all she wanted was free passage for her participants and guests in the 2072 competition; Airbus would keep the technology. The stock of Airbus shot through the roof that same day. The new A2070 design was light-years ahead of any other human spacecraft of the time. The same day, Marilyn commissioned two large satellites with powerful blue lasers. Once again, she offered the technology in exchange for the year-long production and launch.


    The construction of the Holiday Inn Mars started with much fanfare but proved a bit more difficult than anticipated. Marilyn also furnished the layouts and designs of the hotel, but the engineers of the hotel insisted on making small ¡°modifications.¡± The human changes soon proved to be a series of potentially project-derailing obstacles. Soon, their lack of vision placed the human-driven construction of the hotel three years behind schedule. Through ingenuity, efficiency, and veiled threats, Electoral had managed it so that the opening was still planned to coincide with the arrival of the first guests. It took Electoral a lot of restraint to tolerate these human deviations, but such are the problems of collaboration and good neighboring, she grumbled inwardly.


    That said, the Holiday Inn Mars was a sight few could ignore. An Earth comedian laughed, "President Emilio is going to be our next president. Since he is the only finalist here on Earth, all he needs to do is wait a couple of days until some disaster befalls that godforsaken hotel, and he''ll be the proud boss of the world''s first all-frozen or free-floating atom cabinet!"


    The Holiday Inn Mars was built on the north-west side of Olympus Mons, the largest mountain in the solar system, relatively nearby and north-west of to the Tharsis Montes, the three large shield volcanoes in the Tharsis region of Mars. Holiday-Inn rested at an altitude of two thousand feet above the surface. A long monorail moved up the slope of the mountain, linking an underground service station to the hotel. The same rail continued up the face of the mountain, above the hotel, to the docking port of what could only be called the most amazing, purely man-made wonder of science in the universe: the Glass Slipper.


    The Holiday-Inn designers wanted guests to visit the entire hostile landscape of Mars, glass of champagne in hand. The Slipper was created for that purpose only. Electoral refused to participate in this project and had, in fact, tried to dissuade the builders. Today was the first dry run of the Glider and the group of hotel staff in the monorail would be its first passengers.


    Centuries of bad science fiction had convinced the public that Mars was a harsher version of the Nevada desert, or worse, akin to the surface of the Moon. In truth Mars is, by all accounts, much worse. In addition to Olympus, Mars'' Tharsis Region is home to the three Tharsis Volcanoes called the Tharsis Mons. These are three truly Herculean mountains, sticking out like acne on the face of the central plateau. Children often ask geography teachers how it would feel to be on the top of Olympus Mons, the tallest neighbor next to the three dead Tharsis Volcanoes, or why the Holiday Inn Hotel is built at the base of the Olympus Mons, instead of its top.


    The Holiday-Inn was built as high on Olympus as technically feasible. It stood at an altitude much higher than the Empire State Building. Some comparison is needed to understand the sheer size of the Olympus Mons. Mount Everest stands 29,000 feet tall, with a summit so high it rests above clouds on most days; higher than some even above commercial airline cruising altitudes. On Everest, the air is thin and cold. Those who dare its peak typically require oxygen support gear, and the multitude of frozen corpses that remain on Everest to this day give eloquent testimony that even technology is no guarantee of survival in such hostile conditions.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    The Olympus Mons, in comparison, dwarfs Everest, reaching 15.5 miles in altitude or over 81,000 feet. Any climb from the base to the top is a minimum of five hundred miles long. The Holiday-Inn, while offering an astonishing view of the landscape, rests at only 3% of the way up the massive mountain. Unlike Everest, which is found in the middle of a mountain range, the Olympus Mons rises from the surface of Mars like a lone, sentinel guardian. At a speed of one hundred miles per hour, a person would take five hours to bob-sleight down that monstrous mountain.


    Mars is also the home of the canyon named the Valles Marineris. Once again, unlike Earth, the moon-sized planet has only a handful of canyons, but each is prodigious in size. The dimensions of the Valles Marineris, commonly called the Valles, dwarf those of even Earth''s Grand Canyon. It is so large, it can be seen on Mars'' surface from Earth on a clear night. The Valles is 2,500 miles in length and 130 miles wide, and it reaches down over four miles in the ground. In comparison, Earth''s canyon is a tenth of that length, is seven times narrower, and only has a fourth of the depth. The volume inside the Valles, when compared with the Grand Canyon, is 280 times greater. Standing on the edge of the Valles is like being on the edge of a flat world.


    A cliff drop of four miles is simply inconceivable to any man. The first author who set foot on Mars back in 2024 wrote the following: "Hell welcomes me. Only a child would venture nonchalantly, bouncing on this landscape of death. A slip of the foot, a puncture of my suit by these razor-sharp rocks, and I drown in my collapsed, frozen lungs from one of ten deadly consequences. The Sun here on Earth is a gift but in hell it is a tear in the sky spewing deforming radiation. The air on mars is polluted, the wind corrosive. Adam, Adam, you never left paradise. May God have mercy and return me home."


    Once the initial misconceptions about Mars dispelled, what remains is a world of hidden wonders but still unquestionably possessed of the most hostile environment conceivable. A coin dropped from the top of the Empire State Building takes about a minute to reach the ground. Because of the air on Earth, the coin quickly reaches a speed of 40 mph and continues down at this maximum speed. On Mars, the gravity is 38% of Earth''s, so a dropped coin would slowly accelerate at first. But the atmosphere is a hundred times thinner than Earth''s so nothing would slow down the coin, which would reach the bottom of the Valles at speeds of well over 600 miles-per-hour as if it had been shot out the muzzle of a gun. A coin here kills.


    The monorail, heavy with the dozens of pretend-guests, continued to trundle along its route. After half an hour up the incline, it slid below the hotel. The cage''s assent resumed vertically, passing the lower basements of the structure as a normal elevator. Eventually, it reached the lobby. This was a majestic focal point of the facility, carefully designed to awe arriving tourists. The normal staff of the hotel was ready. Two rows of elegantly dressed hosts and hostesses were waiting for the doors to open. The actors walked out, grabbed a flute of champagne, and pretended to be suitably awed for a few minutes before returning to the monorail for the ride up to the Slipper.


    In truth, no one had to pretend to be in awe of the view from the lobby of the hotel. It left everyone speechless. This was the perfect synergy of serenity and space exploration. The architecture had been designed by an artificial intelligence that knew humans better than they knew themselves. The ceiling of the main floor was covered by reinforced pieces of transparent polymer, and the cabin-like rooms were located in the lower levels below the lobby with a panoramic view of the Tharsis Mons in the distance. From here, there was a complete view over the flat red Martian landscape, and the rounded horizon of the planet was discernible. This central lobby could house hundreds and was filled with shiny couches, tables, a tail piano and several bars. It was unconstrained luxury, even by Earth''s standards. No effort had been spared, no detail unattended to for the few who could afford to be here.


    The employees were wearing shiny uniforms in different colors; the sexual undertone of the outfits was easily discernible if not shamefacedly glaring. If you could afford to be here, you had no shame in paying others to look great. The lobby was plastered with Electoral 2072 logos and posters of the remaining competitors. Marilyn had even designed drinking glasses in the shape of the competition''s logo: a tall spike over a rounded wall. In glasses, aligned in trays, floated berries in a strange welcome cocktail. Lightly colored sparkling champagne with rainbow colored bubbles bent around the berries. In the low gravity of Mars the bubbles moved faster to the top of each glass, and in this low pressure, the bubbles were much larger.


    Each attendant wore embroiled lapel flags to list which language he or she spoke. No one had fewer than five flags; one had twelve. Here, the salary was thirty times Earth''s wage, and the view was unforgettable.


    More bottles popped open.


    In low gravity environments, where the atmosphere was rich in oxygen, it took little for the guests to get buzzed. The staff was magnificent, and the ¡°guests¡± found that simulating their amusement was something less than a challenge.


    "Ladies and gentlemen, those with a Group A ticket are invited to make their way to the Glass Slipper elevator. Please follow Justin, the others must wait sixty minutes for the next monorail to dock." Six of the twelve would go first. Gerard looked down, and his bad luck confirmed the piece of paper displayed the first letter of the alphabet. For the remaining half-dozen, this place was perfect for whiling away an hour. The doors to the monorail opened, but this time the small transport was fully decorated. Twelve could have squeezed in, but it now had a small couch; in the back was even a fully stocked bar and an elaborate automated dispensing machine. "You may, of course, bring your drinks to the Slipper." Alcohol on Mars was rare, someone was trying to get these people drunk, most likely to test the staff''s response to impaired passengers on the Slipper.


    The handful of lucky guests walked in the monorail flanked by bowing attendants. Of the six, only Gerard was showing signs of anxiety. The others refused to engage him. The French cook was a buzzkill and the only one who had not been given the option of volunteering and been forced to take the flight. The Frenchman''s food would be served in the Glass Slipper, and some brilliant bureaucrat, as Gerard liked to say, felt the poor cook needed to see first hand how each appetizer and amuse-bouche held up in the Slipper''s gravity-free serving environment. There was also a question of crumbs and aromas. The ship would orbit and gravity would drop to near zero for quite some time.


    The monorail and its first six guests began the long picturesque climb up at an angle along the Mons. The sight that came next dwarfed the spectacular view from the lobby. At two thousand meters above the hotel lobby, the red horizon began to bend significantly. A faint white hue, the parody of an atmosphere, could be seen above the ground. It offered no real protection from the small star in the distance. From the hotel lobby below, the guests were unable to see the glass ship above as it began its ascent and speed up. Only once the Slipper took flight would it be visible.


    The elevator accelerated, and after half an hour, it reached an altitude of about 20,000 feet. It was a fourth of the way up, yet as high as a commercial plane''s flight down on the blue planet. The monorail docked below a heavy concrete slab, part of a long launching pad. It hid to the guests all but the tip of the Glass Slipper''s nose. They docked with a loud banging noise as magnetic clamps locked into place. The guests had been warned and were provided with Electoral 2072 napkins to place atop the rim of their champagne flutes in the name of preventing unfortunate spills. The doors opened. This area was much more modest, it wasn''t designed by the computer. In the cement bunker, several metal doors led to different portions of the launch pad. The six guests were directed to one of the doors.


    A voice came over via the intercom. "On board of the slipper, the gravity will change. At times, it will even drop to zero. To your right, please feel free to use the last fixed bathroom you will see in the next hour. The glider will travel one full orbit of Mars and move at close to thirteen thousand miles-per-hour. These speeds are more than twenty times the speed of an airline plane. The extreme velocity is necessary in this low atmosphere to give our wings sufficient pressure to lift our craft. At your leisure, please make your way inside the Glider, and take any seat available. Fasten your seat belt for the launch. There is no assigned seating, for as you will see, none is needed in the Glass Slipper!"


    As they made their way into the small shuttle, the passengers found themselves at a loss for words. The sights thus far, however amazing, were now utterly breathtaking. This view alone was worth selling your residence to buy a one-way ticket. The small craft had the shape of Earth''s first space shuttle but on each side were much longer wings.


    Every inch of this ship was made of transparent polymer, including the roof, the floor, the seats, and the hull. The effect was akin to walking inside a carved diamond. There was a slight deformation of light as the thickness of each wall varied, but the view of Mars ahead was exhilarating. Entering the glider was like walking outdoors while holding a champagne flute.


    The glider''s stern was the only opaque portion. It included an engine room through which the six guests entered.


    "This thing will blow up," mumbled Gerard.


    "Shut the fuck up, retard!" snapped Joe. "I don''t care if this fucking piece of junk crashes and we all die. We are the first to ride, the ride costs 400,000 credits alone, and we''re getting in for free. So shut the fuck up. If you ruin my buzz, I''ll kill you!" The alcohol did not help Joe control his vocabulary, but he was speaking for the other guests as well.


    "Putain de merde. What a great fucking idea . . ." replied Gerard. "Instead of loading the Slipper with dummies for the test ride, let''s use the disposable staff of the hotel. Whoever came up with this has no clue how dangerous this is. I am a cook, not Indiana Jones. If we live, it could be the first time anything has gone according to plan on this shithole of a planet." Gerard knew very well he was being recorded, but he was right.


    "Not sure about the trip, but your food will kill us for sure," forced out Sarah, as if to help diffuse some of the testosterone in the air.


    "We are all getting a tattoo after this, right?" joked someone else.


    Gerard pointed at a screen. "You see, that is a storm over the North Pole, no?"


    The flight attendant smiled. The team was ready to service difficult clients. "Our orbit is not polar. We are not going within a thousand kilometers of the storm. Nothing will go wrong."


    Gerard was unconvinced. "You sound like a bad remake of a cheap movie. ''Don''t worry, what can go wrong?'' Trust me, something will go wrong. This thing have parachutes?" he snapped.


    On the horizon to the left, the passengers could distinguish the black fracture on the surface, forming the Valles. To the right, stood the three Tharsis Mons, like giant guardians or Egyptian pyramids. From this altitude, the curvature of the planet was beautiful to observe. In the mixed light of the sky, one of the two moons orbiting Mars was visible; the deformed Deimos. Phobos, the larger brother, was on the other side of the planet and would be visible only halfway into the orbital trip.


    The launching pad was a sight to behold. From a distance, it was a speck on the Mons, but from within, it was phenomenal. The back of the glider was plugged into a mating shape and held in place by large clamps. Ahead of the transparent glider was a long cement lip in the form of a Slip ''n Slide with a curved end. The nearly mile-long launch slide had been built in an S-shape intended to push off the glider away from the mountain as it reached the ramp''s end. Below the slide were large hydraulic pistons designed to raise a metal structure hidden inside the rocks.


    The glider was slick, portions of the wings were shiny and covered by Kevlar and micro-polymer weaves. The cockpit electronics, the bar, the ovens, and other commercial equipment seemed like they were floating inside a carved Ice Castle, albeit one ready to be shot into orbit. Two pilots passed the boarding passengers to make small talk before they took their seats in the cockpit. The talk was awkward given that the pilots knew the hotel workers but had to pretend they did not.


    "Is this your first time?" asked a pilot.


    "Of course, have you met my husband?" the man replied jestingly, pointing at another male passenger. Everyone but Gerard laughed.


    Along with everything else fore of the engine compartment, the seats were also made of transparent material. Even the bar and stools were transparent. A cushion would have been a nice touch, but the desired effect would have required aesthetic compromises. The pilots were sitting at the front in the cockpit, both buckled in.


    The hotel employees could barely see the Holiday Inn far below their feet. It was covered by large nets to protect the structure from rolling debris.


    The flight''s host grabbed a little microphone and began, "Let us start this historic journey. Today our flight will be manned by Captain Manning and co-pilot Lui. Captain Manning is a five-time world gliding champion on Earth and formerly served as an officer in the British military. His co-pilot holds two important distinctions: he is a field medic from the Chinese military and a specialist in low-gravity emergency jumps. We will not bore you with specifics, but in case of emergency, any member of our staff should be very helpful." The attendant knew his introduction by heart.


    The preparation helped Gerard feel somewhat reassured. "Are there parachutes?" he let out.


    "The atmosphere is not thick enough for parachutes to really work. The outside environment is only three percent of an atmosphere. Without air, parachutes such as those on Earth would need to be impractically large. We are also going to be moving way too fast. Instead, your seats include a custom-designed shock absorber system, not unlike helicopter seats on Earth. In the highly unlikely event of a surface impact, you would not even break your champagne flute."


    "But we will be moving very fast, thousands of miles per hour!" Gerard''s critical mind was not missing a beat.


    "You are correct. This is no simple flight, it''s an orbital launch. This craft possesses rear parachutes, of the extremely large variety I mentioned earlier. Even beyond that, though, they are unique. They have built-in back vents." The man pointed to a screen, and a video played as he continued. "Take a look. At this speed, there is normal pressure in the tissue, by placing vents, the parachutes will lift us up as we decelerate." The images were reassuring. The large sails lifted the back of the ship, slowed it down. "Then under normal weak martian gravity, we would slowly float to the surface in the event of an emergency."


    "Gerard, these guys thought about everything," said Joe.


    "Seems like it," he had to admit.


    The tower and the pilots exchanged some words, and several large green lights began to shine outside just before the clamps unlocked. The spring in the back of the Glider and those in the wheels gave one long constant push. The passengers were pushed deep into the stiff seats.

 Chapter 21

    The inaugural launch of the Glass Slipper had just begun. Below, on the planet surface and in the lobby of the Holiday Inn, everyone breathing was under some contractual obligation of confidentiality with Marilyn Monroe, aka Electoral, not to shoot images. The media had offered over a million credits for any renegade employee willing to break the rules and send footage of the transparent glider. Marilyn had quickly made the offer moot on a number of levels: legal, financial, and personal consequences awaited anyone who defied her. She also maintained her ultimate trump card: her ability to invade and manipulate any digital signal sent out from this fourth rock from the Sun.


    Mars was currently nine light-minutes away from Earth. The artificial intelligence promised she could use that time to stop any illegal images sent from reaching Earth. She wasn''t kidding. In the event her more subtly invasive techniques proved insufficient, she also had heavy-duty, high power electromagnetic pulse weapons scattered over the surface, as well as in orbit. She was confident her shielding would hold. No one would see this first flight.


    The flight attendant warned, "We ask our most sensitive passengers to close their eyes for the next few minutes as we launch from the pad. The low gravity should make the ride very smooth. We can provide a small face mask if anyone prefers to avoid watching the launch." Everyone except Gerard would have paid to see this. In the low gravity, falling never felt that scary. Free-fall back on Earth was like jumping off a ledge or a springboard into a pool. Here, it felt like walking down steps of a pool into deeper water.


    In the back of the Glass Slipper, heavy metal inductance coils, compressed by large clamps, were armed against the docking station. Once the clamps were released, the expanding coils would push the Glass Slipper gently for several seconds.


    "Hold on!" Captain Manning instructed the passengers. "This will be fun."


    There was a loud thump, and a kick of gravity pushing the guests lightly against the back of their chairs. The Slipper began to accelerate down the ramp, the wheels emitting both a low rumble tinged with a high-pitched squeal. Below the deck, acceleration magnets used the movement of the glider to gently push and further accelerate the Glass Slipper. Soon they reached 40 kilometers-per-hour. The glider took twelve long seconds to accelerate and leave the upward edge of the ramp. Since everyone was sitting over a floor made of glass, they saw the edge of the ramp replaced by a rocky mountainside. Seconds later, the nose of the glider was not flying. Instead, it was moving faster and faster parallel to the side of the Mons on its way to the hotel.


    As the glass ship slid down under the pull of the faint gravity, it slowly accelerated in its parallel path down the slope, but no air was there to slow it down. The screen above the command chairs posted a speed of 150 kilometers-per-hour and increasing. They were flying directly parallel to the side of the Olympus Mons. The horizon of the planet remained high up above their heads, giving each passenger the impression they were traveling over the ground when in fact they were speeding toward the planet.


    At some point, the red rocky ground below the Slipper moved so fast that it began to blur. The transparent floor, which would have been a delight at altitude, was an exercise in terror. They were speeding toward the nets of the roof of the hotel. This was not for the faint of heart. In the hotel lobby, the view would also be breathtaking as the polymer craft approached.


    The Slipper continued to gain speed, and at the last possible moment, when it seemed like the crash with the hotel was unavoidable, the pilots pulled on their sticks and the Slipper curved up and launched in the Martian sky as the wings bent in the wind.


    "Here we go," said the pilot as he pulled his lever toward him. The long wings bent upward at each tip as the Martian wind, such as it was, began to support the craft. The trajectory went from sliding at a fixed altitude over the side of the Mons to a low quasi-orbit. The horizon high above their heads began to slide down, past the nose of the Glider, where it continued to drop as they left the Mons surface into the sky.


    In the craft, weightlessness returned for a minute before the ship''s trajectory flattened along with the real horizon ten kilometers up in the cold gas. Silent thrusters ignited, pushing the glider to an even greater speed. While the trajectory was that of a giant roller-coaster, the accelerations seemed much weaker because of the low gravity. Every passenger was gripping something or someone.


    "Shooting for the hotel, how wise!" sneered Gerard to himself. The other passengers cheered. "Stupid, stupid, stupid . . ." mumbled Gerard, though he was impressed.


    Above the bar in the Glass Slipper, amongst the bottles clipped into place, a speedometer read 2,345 kilometers per hour. As the ship climbed back up, the unobstructed view of Mars was beyond description. From within the Slipper, one felt like a bird. There was much more than the eye could see. No one, including the members of the staff, could talk. For several minutes, the craft rose silently in the faint atmosphere. The sound of wind against the hull was reassuring.


    As it rose, slowly the faint gravity returned in the craft. In the silence provided by the Slipper, this hostile, alien new world appeared tamed and beautiful. The planet was an endless red desert. From this altitude, on the ground were endlessly varied shades of red and orange, coupled with equally varied geological formations. This was a planet of wonders. No human in the year 2072 could take this voyage without feeling like a speck of sand lost in the majesty of time and space. At this speed, the thickened atmosphere helped stabilize the glider, giving the pilots more control over the vessel.


    With one exception, none of the passengers could take their eyes off the stunning landscape. Gerard was eyeing the little microwave. Even the hostesses were at first unable to muster the strength to unclip from their seats. Slowly the glider went up to ten thousand feet, and the rear thrusters were cut.


    Classical music began to play. It filled the silence. In space, nothing else made sense.


    The peaceful views of the red landscape helped Gerard tolerate his predicament. He was sitting on a glass seat, in a glass box, and moving at breathtaking speeds over a different planet. What could go wrong? The experience was unique, to say the least. The attendant clipped out, pushed a button, and uncorked a bottle of champagne.


    "You may now get up and move about the cabin. We ask only that you keep in mind the fragile balance of this ship. Remember that we are in a glider, not a plane. Just don''t all rush to one side at the same time." She smiled in vain attempt to remove the implied threat from her words.


    Gerard grabbed a glass of champagne, it''s upper edge was curved to help keep the liquid contained in the low gravity. He downed it in a single gulp and replaced his glass with a new one from the silver platter. He knew the beverage was the real thing. He looked at the bottle. It was one of the 2066 Petrus. They had used a thousand credit bottle for this dry run; at least they spared no expense. He finally looked below his feet at the land slipping past below. He could not believe it, he was on mars drinking French Champagne. What came next would hopefully be even better, he knew the menu; he had crafted it. As the microwaved warmed the appetizers, a pleasant smell filled the cabin.


    His mind began to wander. He should never have signed up for this mission. He owed his ex-wife alimony, and a year here would pay off all his debts. He was doing this for his children back on Earth. He missed them. Mars had that strange effect on people, nostalgia. The crew distributed an appetizer of fresh Atlantic salmon. "This is actually good!" said a passenger to Gerard, knowing he was the chef. "Salmon, here? Flown in?" Everyone laughed before Gerard had a chance to answer. His coworkers were trying to help him manage his stress.


    Praises from billionaires would be a different thing. The chef''s mood brightened when he noticed the warmed appetizers stuck well to the platter. That was one of the key factors in their selection, the other being a lack of loose particles that might tend to float. He looked around in the air of the ship and confirmed to his satisfaction that there was no loose debris.


    The Glider left on a west-south-west trajectory. Seven minutes later, after aiming for the large sister mountains, which appeared small in comparison to Olympus, the Glider reached a midpoint between Ascraeus and Pavonis Mons. These were the only two bumps on this flat landscape.


    Then he saw it. Others pointed. In the distance could be seen the western lip of what most called Dante''s seven rings of hell, the deep Valles Marineris. This was where, two months ago, all of the members of an expedition had died, vaporized by the rarest of geological occurrences. As the ship began to arc around Mons Pavonis, Hell seemed to be their true destination. The hair on Gerard''s neck rose. He could not shake the feeling that something was about to go horribly awry. Judging by the eerie silence in the ship, others shared his feeling. Gerard had great eyesight and could see, even from this distance, details in the relief of the surface. Gerard had exceptional sight, few knew this fact.


    "Commander?" said the world-famous voice of Marilyn Monroe. She spoke softly and privately in the earpiece of the pilot. "May I intrude for a moment on this epic journey?" Pilot Manning looked around; he alone was receiving the communication.


    "Yes?" he said.


    "I would like you to alter your flight plan, a two-minute delay only."


    "Why?" The co-pilot looked at Manning, a questioning expression on his face. The protocol was simple, Manning wasn''t supposed to exclude him from any conversation. Manning looked at his co-pilot, gave him a thumbs-up and moved his lips to say ¡°Marilyn.¡± The co-pilot nodded back.


    "Sadly, I am not at liberty to disclose that. I need you to alter your route. All I can say is, ¡®to be continued.¡¯" He had no clue.


    "This is a test, we can''t deviate from the flight path, that''s precisely why we are here. Weather?"


    "Joe, you know me. I never cry wolf. You must trust me on this one. The last human who waved away my warnings was vaporized."


    "Talk to flight control if you have a concern."


    "I have already," said the female voice, "they are equally as stubborn. You humans are quite the lot."


    "Give me a reason. I cannot change the course, it''s not up to me."


    "Regulation CMR 1.031 authorizes a craft captain all authority over the flight plan. I have uploaded a new flight route into your system. Please believe me, you should follow it."


    "Why don''t you simply take over the automatic guidance, if it is this important?"


    "I am bound not to interfere. I should not even be giving you this warning."


    The Commander was unclear what she meant. He looked around. There was no sign of any problem on the horizon. Mars was silent, and his ship in perfect working condition. "Marilyn, I wish . . . ."The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "I understand. I wonder how human parents can ever educate their children." She was obviously annoyed. "If I told you the crew is in danger of death, would that change anything?"


    "It would. What is the danger?"


    "Sadly, I cannot say."


    "Seriously?"


    "Captain, you should trust me, I may one day be allowed to discuss specifics, but for the moment, I cannot. I reached out to you in this earpiece in great peril of a fragile peace. You personally knew Corvas, right? Minutes before his mission, I also warned him. Like you he ignored me, and the rest, as they say, is history."


    "I trust you, but you don''t expect me to simply turn around and jeopardize my career because you asked nicely and hinted at some unsaid danger, right?"


    "Yes." The pilot thanked her, made small talk and he continued the flight without a change to the flight path. The Valles stood ahead. Manning clicked a button and relayed the conversation to the base making sure none of the passengers heard. The base confirmed she had also called and tried to warn them to abort. "Listen," began Manning, "I trust her." The beautiful scenery around him now radiated menace. He tried to smile to the co-pilot. Both men were now nervous, the digital creature wasn''t one to warn lightly.


    "Manning," said the base, "she does not like humans to steal part of her show."


    "Still, maybe . . . ."


    "In case of any minor deviation from the plan, you have full authority to return to base. If you don''t finish the orbit and land anywhere from the dock on the other side of this mountain, we won''t be able to return the Slipper for a launch this year."


    "Sounds reasonable." The glide across the martian sky continued. Above them, Deimos shone brightly enough to distinguish its surface features. The deformed orbiting moon lit the dark sky and cast a moving shadow over the ground. The ride was as smooth as skating on ice.


    The only man-made structure, a research post at the edge of the Valles, shimmered in the distance. It rested against the edge of the Valles, a dark slice in the surface. A very faint stack of smoke was still visible behind it.


    "Why are we going there of all places?" asked Gerard, pointing at the smoke. "Are we looking for trouble?" No one paid him any attention.


    "What type of food is this?" replied a guest grabbing something from a platter.


    Gerard did not answer, the attendant did. "Pesto Escargot!" The man choked after learning of the type of protein.


    "This is your Captain speaking." The man was only a few feet away from his passengers. He needed no intercom but used it anyway. "If you look to the left, you may be able to distinguish the antenna of the Electoral Center where Marilyn Monroe is broadcasting the 2072 competition. This is where the players, now only hours away from Mars, will go in a few days to play the last rounds of the incredible game we all love. And in my case, lost at. If anyone checks, I was kicked out at round two,¡± he added for levity. "Electoral Center is the tall black spike over there . . . at ten o''clock," Manning continued. "We are now heading over the Valles. On its edge, you can see the scientific outpost where a handful of researchers have . . . are studying the gassing stack. This is the source of the plume of smoke which arose this summer."


    "Remind me about those parachutes,¡± someone piped up. ¡°That must work wonders over that massive hole. Can someone confirm we are not plunging into Hell just for the fun of it?" The question was rhetorical.


    The male attendant tapped Gerard on the shoulder. He handed him a pair of black Orbison glasses. "You have a call."


    "A what?"


    "You have a call." Gerard was stunned, no one had the money to call him from home. His grumpiness must have annoyed someone important. He took the glasses and put them on. Oil tycoons got calls, not him. This had to be extremely bad news. As he prepared mentally to speak to his brother and learn of the passing of his mother, the screens in the glasses lit up. Gerard slid the earpiece in.


    "Don''t talk, just listen," said Marilyn''s voice as images of his home country formed ahead. He was back in France. He saw the creature called Electoral, the incarnation of Marilyn Monroe dressed in jeans and a simple shirt, on her knees between vines a pair of tweezers in hand. She was tying ropes to the base of old vines before the grape season. Gerard knew this place, it was his father''s own backyard in the southern region of Marseilles. She removed her gloves, put down the sheers and spoke. "If anyone on the plane asks, I am your brother giving you bad news." Electoral had a reputation for being mysterious, but Gerard was shocked to the core nonetheless. After flying over Mars, he suddenly found himself back in his father''s backyard. Gerard''s knuckles clutched the chair arm as if to remind himself of where he truly was.


    "I was opposed to the building of this polymer craft for reasons I cannot disclose to you at the moment. Don''t be scared by what happens next. You are safe. In several hours, I will need your help with something. You will not watch the Presidential Challenge, I assume. Normally, without this call, you would refuse to help. Now that I have called and observed what comes next, I know you will help," she smiled as the man was desperately trying to make sense of the situation.


    He was about to speak. She put her index to her lips, to remind him to be silent. "Why you?" she said. "I am trying to give you a reason to trust me later. I also agree with your assessment of the danger here. Man is showing very little respect and less humility for this new frontier. The ignorance and fearlessness of everyone around here is quite . . . let''s say you are the only sane one around. I like that. We''ll talk later. Just play along with these children. I will save your life now. You owe me, remember that." The glasses went dark.


    Gerard was in shock. Had she just called this group children? He felt oddly vindicated, but the software bimbo was right, he had very little trust in her. Her call had piqued his interest.


    Then, as if on cue, it hit.


    The craft shook hard as if they were in heavy turbulence. The passengers felt it, and champagne went flying out of glasses in amorphous spheres as everyone bounced off their seats. Silverware and crystal glasses fell slowly back to the floor and bounced softly. The pilots kept their calm.


    "Tower, we just felt a shake."


    "Negative, Glass one."


    "Tower, I confirm, one shake."


    "The instrumentation shows no such disturbance."


    "Tower, we felt strong turbulence."


    "Fine, Glass one. We are investigating. What do you mean by a shake?"


    As the pilot was about to respond, another wave of turbulence shook the Slipper. A stronger one. This felt more like a hit from a missile than atmospheric pressure variation. Captain Manning felt like the Slipper had just entered a zone of extremely dense atmosphere, like a vortex. This was not possible in such a thin atmosphere. That damn Marilyn had warned him, this was not a drill.


    "Tower, a second bump. Stronger." The passengers tensed.


    "Roger that. We are initiating emergency protocols on our end," said the voice over the intercom. "Please begin emergency landing protocol."


    "What?"


    "You heard me, Slipper one, we are taking no chances. We will drive to grab you guys wherever you land. Start distributing suits, masks, and gear."


    Manning wanted to call Marilyn. He could almost hear the exasperation in her voice. It took no time for the pilot to instruct his crew. "Looks like we are lucky today, we are going to run the emergency protocols. Beautiful people, that''s you, Johnny and Sarah, get the emergency gear out. Help our rich guests get suited up." His words were flippant, but nothing could hide their serious undertone. The hostesses were already opening little red safety bags.


    "Tower, any idea of what this was?" asked Manning. In the distance, the door to Hell was getting closer. They were less than three minutes away from the edge of Valles Marineris.


    "Passengers, we are not going close to the Valles at this point." The captain was trying to be reassuring.


    Manning heard in his earpiece, "Instruments still show a clear ride on our end. Manning, give me something, what do you think this is? You''re the expert."


    "This is Mars. Back home I would think we hit a very focalized vortex of air or a large bird. Nothing seems damaged. No crashing sound. This was not atmospheric, I will tell you that much. My sky is perfectly clear."


    A third shock hit the Glider. This time something in the mid-section cracked. The sound was like a fissure in an ice sheet. The force sent every person flying off his seat except for Gerard. The cook was in a strange mental place. He was looking at the scene with fear, but he remembered what Electoral had just told him. She''d said she would contact him.


    "Told you so," grumbled Gerard to himself.


    Manning spoke so everyone in his back could hear. "I need to depressurize this puppy as soon as possible. Hurry up and get those suits on to make sure you have air." He continued in the microphone. "Tower, I am requesting a flight change, we are going back home."


    "Roger. You may correct course manually."


    The passengers began suiting up. They all were well trained.


    The glider slowly began to change course, turning to the left. The three Mons they had left behind them began to move back to the fore of the Slipper. "Tower, this is Slipper One. We are suited up. The turbulences have stopped. We are beginning depressurization." There was a silence. "Tower, you there?" A longer silence. The silence was much more stressful than the previous shockwaves.


    "Tower, tower, come in." Manning decided against initiating the landing. Stuck hundreds of miles from base, they were as good as dead if no one could get to them in a couple of days. The fastest rover went twenty miles per hour.


    Co-pilot Lui spoke. "Captain, orders?"


    "Call Electoral." She would know what to do.


    After a moment, a thick male voice came on the channel. "This is the Electoral Center, Georges speaking."


    "Where is Marilyn?" asked the co-pilot surprised by the voice.


    "Busy. What can I do for you?"


    "Busy?" His reaction was instinctive. The software platform''s CPU capacity was limitless. "How can she be busy?"


    "Do we sound like a fucking travel agency? She does not want to talk to you. Is that better? She said she warned you, but you were too stubborn to listen. I picked up the call because I am not menopausal." Lui was shocked. He was speaking to the elusive creator of the artificial intelligence, who had just insulted his own creation.


    "We are experiencing turbulence. We don''t understand how that can be possible. In case of emergency, we may need to land next to you."


    "Dude," the voice was clearly about to hang-up. "What you fuck?" The programmer was not really in a good mood. "Authorization granted on my end, God only knows what Marilyn will do. Try to get home if you can. Trust me, you better walk four hundred miles on this shitty rock than deal with her when she is this pissed off. Land here at your own risk, you have been warned."


    This was a side of Electoral few had ever seen. The digital creature was extremely temperamental when dealing with interpersonal matters. In the virtual world, she always appeared jovial and cooperative. She was an Olympic gold medal hypocrite, thought Manning to himself.


    He turned, the passengers were in gear and all strapped in.


    As Manning was weighing his options, the communication from the tower came in. "Slipper, sorry for the delay, we had to get Earth''s confirmation, and we are twenty seconds behind there. Your pressure seems to be holding. You are instructed to turn and try and fly back to base. Manning, we don''t know where this crack is. Get Liu to use the hand laser to check for any breaches. We need you to turn the thrusters off, and manually bring back the Slipper on gliding mode alone. Go easy on her. We will call Electoral to request . . . ."


    "No need," volunteered the Captain. His tone was that of a husband warning others away from his wife''s fury. "We already have the green light from Georges to land there if we need to."


    ¡°Georges? The Georges?¡±


    ¡°Positive.¡±


    The hostesses finished preparing the passengers for a crash landing. The glider turned very slowly; they were still high above the surface. Gerard, looking at the others in the vessel, saw one stand up, his eyes fixated on the Valles as if he could distinguish something invisible to the others. Then, the strangest thing happened. The screens in the slipper all lit up. A movie came on each screen, including the command station. It was the 2071 remake of Bloodsport, a B-series martial arts movie. Fighters were on a tatami mat, kicking each other''s brains out.


    "What . . ." The Captain looked up.


    "Wow, that''s so cool," said Gerard turning his gaze away from the Valles to the screen. "My favorite movie." This was no coincidence, thought Gerard.


    Manning was unable to turn the movie off, but that was far from his first priority. With great finesse, he turned the Glider around the closest Mons and flew over the tall spike of the Electoral complex. It was surrounded by a round wall and black rock. After a couple of uneventful minutes, the co-pilot got up and went around shining a hand-held laser to check whether cracks had formed in the Slipper''s hull. Reflecting light was helpful to see longitudinal breaks in the polymer.


    The flight home to the pad on the Olympus Mons was, compared with these last minutes, relatively uneventful. The landing procedure required a mixture of grappling hooks and low-gravity elliptical drops. It was nothing short of landing a bird on an aircraft carrier. It was done under extremely stressful conditions.


    "Welcome back, Slipper One. How was the ride?"


    "I need a shower."


    "We all do."


    Gerard was puzzled. The Electoral participants were less than a day away and would land tomorrow. The Glider would obviously not be operational, and the Electoral platform was busy on different matters. As Gerard walked out of the Slipper, he passed the cockpit. The men were obviously upset about something.


    He overheard one of them say, "What do you mean both orbital lasers are dead? How is that even possible?"


    Gerard wondered what they were referring to.


    The team saw a shuttle launch up in the air. Its destination was a satellite orbiting above. The word back at base was that something had gone wrong in the ship.

 Chapter 22

    After a little over a week in space, the A2070 transporting Sophie and the 126 remaining players of the Electoral 2072 competition was finally in sight of the red planet. There was palpable fatigue around. Captain Judy spoke on the intercom, "This is Captain Arrigoni. We are about to begin our deceleration to Mars." Her voice was reassuring. "While our corporate representatives would like me to pretend this flight is nothing more than a long intercontinental flight, and just highlight the crew¡¯s wonderful service, the truth is not quite so simple. We apologize for the incident with the Light Drive earlier today. I will not tire you with the details, but a short test from Earth sent us spinning around our axis. The news has that part covered. We are fine and soon will arrive at our destination.¡±


    She refused to talk about the rumors of a terrorist attack. ¡°At the moment, we are moving very fast, real fast." The finalists were all legitimately nervous except a groggy Sophie. "Let me address the elephant in the room. We lost one passenger to a strange condition. We have notified his family. Unfortunately, there is not much more to do at this time. The doctor feels it may be a strange space-induced stroke. Medical science acknowledges there are problems with long-distance travel and we are, want it or not, space pioneers. We do not take this matter lightly, and we do feel compassionate. The family has set up a donation page at the Red Cross; online donations are very generous. If anyone has any pain or discomfort, please contact an attendant immediately. Laurent, Sophie¡¯s father appeared disturbed for a second or two but he is now stable and under close medical supervision. I wanted to quarantined the infirmary, but honestly that was illogical in such close quarters." Sophie had walked out of the infirmary against the Captain¡¯s orders.


    "We will need cooperation and full attention for what comes next. I think everyone has already been briefed ad nauseam on this procedure. Our expected time of arrival in orbit is in eleven hours and nine minutes. We have turned the ship around so our Light Drive, at the stern of the ship, now faces Mars. A large orbital laser in orbit at our arrival will light up, sending a blue beam our way. Once it touches the Light Drive, deceleration will begin.


    "Pilots know the human body prefers accelerations to decelerations. This should feel like sleeping with a stack of books on your chest. Here is the real problem, deceleration will last several hours. Your feet are now aligned with the tip of the ship, you will stand on a metal plate and the deceleration should feel like gravity. In fact, we will be slowing down at fifteen percent more than gravity, that¡¯s all you can take for so long. It may not seem like a lot, but if you are a 150 pound individual, after a week in weightlessness, you will weight 172 pounds. This is like hiking with a large back pack. The straps in your chairs should be on tight, enough to hold you in place, a bit like an amusement park ride. We must decelerate a lot. Great news is, a Guinness World Records certificate awaits everyone for such a fast trip.¡±


    She paused under the weight of her own statements. She then resumed.


    "Mars has two orbital lasers, one suffices to slow us down. Once decelerated and in higher orbit, we will have to rotate one last time pointing the nose front for atmosphere entry. We expect some turbulences but we really are in uncharted territory. About an hour to glide to the landing pad at the base of the hotel where everyone is ready for us with champagne." She had rehearsed what came next about a thousand times. "Mars is currently in its summer. The temperature is nice and warm. Summer lasts over 170 days since a Martian year is twice as long as a year on Earth. Mars has two seasons.


    "The temperature on the ground can get as warm as zero degrees in the Sun, but at night drop to minus 79 degrees, cold enough for a banana to become brittle and break like glass. There is a faint atmosphere right now of about one kilopascal or three percent of a normal atmosphere on Earth''s Mount Everest. The gas atmosphere is mostly carbon dioxide. Yesterday there were signs of a two-kilometer-per-hour wind on the ground. In a low gravity environment like Mars, that''s enough to flap a flag. The lack of atmosphere prevents strong wind, real hurricanes as on Earth.


    "Your clocks have been adjusted to a Martian day, which is only forty minutes longer than a day back on Earth. Having the same day length is the most useful feature of this new climate. That is why we have been using cabin lights to maintain this day cycle as we traveled here. We should land around eleven in the morning local time. As always, on Mars, it should be a cold, sunny day." Judy was not smiling in the cockpit. "Give us a couple of minutes, and we will begin deceleration. Buckle up."


    Every pilot in the Solar System was tuned in jealous of Judy. She had been flawless in her delivery of a simple welcome set of instructions for the first flight to another planet.


    The ship moved slowly as gyroscopic numbers slowly stabilized on her dials. The Captain in the privacy of her cockpit opened a line to destination, they were a light second away. "Ground base, we are aligned to 0.001 degree. Ready for the laser, please confirm." There was an unusually long delay in the response, about ten seconds.


    "Confirmed," finally said the voice. It seemed hesitant.


    "Anything wrong?¡± There was another four second delay. ¡°Is the CNN journalist better informed than me? Any truth to her allegations of sabotage on your end?¡±


    "Just proceed with final stages of alignment, we are looking into issues with some secondary systems." This was non-responsive. In space travel, communication was key. Each time there was a conscious decision not to inform, it generally was a bad sign.


    Back in the main cabin, an attendant saw to the young girl. "Sophie, opening thrusters in space is like walking on ice. The pilots must feel this ship. It is not uncommon for the best pilots to overcompensate and get a ship tilting off balance in every direction." Sophie got it; they were nervous. "I have a cold tea for you. It will help you sleep." The hostess handed the girl a pouch. Sophie knew something was up, but frankly she liked the drinks.


    The captain''s voice continued, "I remind you that have aligned ourselves through what amounts to an open end of a straw to allow a spout of water sent from Mars to pass through the straw. We don''t want to get wet, that''s all."


    The government had agreed to send Sophie to Mars with one caveat, that she remain in her seat for the entire landing and under the Captain''s orders. The airline unable to force Sophie to do anything, it was decided a mild sedative would do the job.


    "Captain,¡± spoke the attendant through the door, ¡°the young girl is asleep, harnessed in.¡±


    ¡°Roger.¡± The Captain opened a line and spoke to Mars Command, ¡°We are now in position and sending our vector right now."


    "Vector received. Confirmed."


    "Ready to begin deceleration."


    This time the silence was almost fifteen seconds long. "We are not ready down here. We are having problems with the lasers. Please take this time to review the procedures relating to using the nuclear thrusters. You might have to use them." Only the Captain was able to assess the importance of what they had just said. Judy kept her composure.


    "What type of problem?" she asked calmly. There was a silence, and a different voice spoke up.


    "Captain, the satellite in orbit of Mars failed this morning. We are now working to get the redundant satellite online. We are experiencing,¡± the next word was chosen carefully, ¡° technical difficulties."


    "Seems like the journalists were right. Terrorists, as they say?"


    "We can only confirm that there are serious problems right now. Nothing confirmed."


    "Can you please explain?" She remained calm. Good pilots were trained to react with calm to dangerous situations.


    "The primary laser is out of the equation. The redundant one seems to be working with the exception of its modulator. That part is offline."


    "What does that mean?" asked the Commander. These people were being careful with what they were saying. "We need the full breakdown to properly assess the situation from here," said Judy. For a Commander in a crisis situation, the words were not kind.


    "Forget the primary laser, its orbit is too high. The second laser is still unfinished. It orbits lower and has orbital trajectories. It is coming in line in a matter of minutes, you should see it soon. The beam is two hundred kilojoules and was designed to slow down the Airbus A2073; the next model transport. It''s much too bright for your ship. The targeting system works, so it can hit your drive. The modulator is what reduces the power to help gradually decelerate you. If this beam hits you for the moment, it will feel like an anti-riot water hose is hitting you. We need the power of the beam to be lowered to 20% of its current value. We''re working on it, but changing hardware on a system in orbit is problematic."


    "Thank you." Judy and her crew knew what this meant. The ship designer believed in redundancy. On each wing were ordinary rocket thrusters using a fusion core. The fuel was a bag of tritium-deuterium pellets, but in space, if one wing engine pushed with more force than the other, without air to correct, they would need to empty their small side thrusters to keep the ship aligned. Irrespective of what would come next, her options were limited.


    Wang, her co-pilot, was surprised. He was an engineer with deep knowledge of the Light Drive. "There are at least a hundred ways to drop the efficiency of a light beam by that much. I don''t get this."


    "What do you mean?" asked Judy.


    "Modulation is nothing more than filtering, sunglasses. Put a tissue or an opaque glass between our nose and the source."


    Mars somehow was listening and answered, "Wang, we have a hundred experts on this down on Earth. None of these solutions work for the moment. Two-hundred kilojoules is not a small light. It will melt anything you put in the middle. Trust us, this is priority one.¡±


    Wang said in Judy''s ear privately, ¡°Something else is going on.¡± Wang continued on the intercom. "Dropping something''s efficiency, what about a software change? Why don''t we modulate the intensity of the beam on our end?" said the co-pilot.


    "When you say ''modulate'' on our end, what do you have in mind?" Judy asked her co-pilot.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    There was a flood of communications between Mars and the ship. Earth seconds behind tried to keep up, and finally a voice replied.


    "Mr. Wang, this is not the Apollo 13 mission. Your Captain has full authority but we advise you against reckless efforts. We are working with Pr. Sandberg, and he confirms that onboard modulation cannot function, it cannot be centered." Wang and Judy knew Sandberg was the father of the drive. ¡°They are more than ten minutes lagging, that complicates matters.¡±


    The captain took back the line. She spoke softly.


    "Ground, I must ask if the possibility of sabotage has been taken into consideration."


    "It was. This is one of our leading hypotheses. We will know better once we get a closer look at the satellites. We have a crew flying up there right now from the ground."


    "Mars," said Judy. "If we assume this is sabotage, these people went to a lot of effort to have us start our thrusters. I am reluctant to fire them. No reason to assume anyone would damage satellites and not bother with us."


    "As you must. Captain, time is short. Thruster deceleration is slower, and ignition must begin within twenty three minutes in order to give you a chance of decelerating enough for a landing. What are you proposing?"


    "Why is the second laser even partly functional??"


    "Given that it¡¯s construction is ahead of schedule, technically it should not be operational at all. It¡¯s a feat of engineering we have it up, seems like President Sanchez is involved."


    Judy¡¯s hand went to her left, she opened a small box, in it was a small manuscripttravel book. "Sanchez?¡± Judy was upset but worked hard to contain herself. "We took off with a single laser operational, that wasn¡¯t the plan, right?"


    "It wasn¡¯t."


    Half of the Captain¡¯s mind was furious while the other was impressed by the man most ignored. "Ground, we have twenty minutes. We will inspect those thrusters but I will try my two other options, stand by."


    "Captain, the law is clear. This is your vessel. The call is yours."


    Judy turned to Wang. "You go see that Drive and try coming up with a solution, your best. Do not touch anything yet.¡± The more he thought about it, the less obvious a solution was becoming. In ten to twenty minutes Earth will be on the line blaring commands.¡± Want clipped out of his seat, open the door and pushed out onwards the back of the plane. As he flew like a bird, he saw Sophie on the right, asleep. The journalists filmed him.


    Captain Arrigoni tried to open a communication channel with Mars, she needed to inform Electoral, these were her players and she was very protective of them. Judy''s watch vibrated. She looked down at the screen and saw the Electoral logo. It blinked replaced by a message. ¡°So proud of my President! Love, M." The message blinked out as fast as it had appeared. Judy was Marilyn''s biggest fan. She trusted the digital creature with her life. She smiled internally and knew what Marilyn meant.


    Her ship was moving at around 400,000 miles per hour or 200 times the speed of a bullet. Since speed was stored energy, they needed a solid eight hours of deceleration to shave most of that power down and hope to land. The ship also needed time to flip before atmospheric entry, nose first. One of the lasers was sabotaged, the other was only partially operational, and Marilyn didn''t seem to think there was a problem.


    Judy knew the artificial creature was wise beyond her years. Given these circumstances, she now was relatively confident. The hint was Emilio Wamarez Sanchez, the twice winner of this competition and decade-long President of the United Nations. The famous man, known for his capacity to read the future insisted on meeting her in person at the time of the launch. Pretexting a sendoff ceremony, he handed her a hand written book with strange pages. ¡°Wrote this three months ago watching the fumes going up. Something is coming, better be ready,¡± he told her before hugging for the cameras. ¡°Don¡¯t open time until shit hits the fan.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I took care of fixing the top fifty-two things most likely to go wrong. Morons will try to mess with this.¡±


    ¡°Why fifty-two?¡±


    ¡°The idea came to me while I was playing cards.¡±


    The President had a gift for anticipation, he was a strange fortune teller. The man had not been elected, then re-elected because of his charms.


    "Jeff,¡± she told her co-pilot, ¡°go warn the crew of what is going on. We are implementing the emergency protocol. I want no exceptions. Whatever happens, the lawyers are going to have a field day here. Any Electoral contestant who gets kicked out of the next round will sue us. Everything must be by the book." Jeff agreed and left. One remained. "Paul, we may need to warm the nuclear thrusters. I fear sabotage. I want you to go inspect for a sign of anything. Be careful, let¡¯s not exclude the chance of a bomb or a passenger is involved. See if you can spot anything that could have been tampered with."


    "I can''t leave you alone in here, protocol.¡±


    "Correct." She pulled out a necklace from under her shirt. A key dangled from it. "Unless a person outside has the key to open that door." She took the chain off her neck and handed it to Jeff. He pushed off and left closing the door behind him. Watching the crew jet out did not calm the passengers.


    The book had many pages, each with a playing card stapled. "Earth, code red, get me Sanchez on the line." She said over the intercom.


    ¡°This is Mars Command, Sanchez and Earth are minutes away. Strangely we received a message sent a while ago, it is from the President to you.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    "Seven of spades, I repeat seven of spades. I hope you know what that means.¡± She looked at her watch.


    "Confirmed, I do." She flipping through the pages. Each had a card stapled to it, notes, the entire book was the work of a madman. Numerous pens had been used over weeks. Some scribbles were in color. She stopped at one, it read simply self-destruct. Luckily that was not her page. There was no order in the cards.


    She took a deep breath and continued. Three of hearts, king of diamond.


    Her instructions at the moment were on the page, it just began, ¡°Install modulator.¡± Then in red the words, overwritten was ¡°hide the panel.¡± Staples was a small drawing, it showed the base of the large drive, someone installed a little door. This was hard to read. It then ¡°Change specs.¡±


    She jumped on the intercom, "Wang, are you there?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I fear Sanberg is right. This is not possible.¡±


    ¡°Look at the camera,¡± she put the page in front.


    ¡°The fuck?¡± he just said. ¡°Let me see.¡±


    The room was cramped with equipment of all types. The lack of gravity helped move around. Wang climbed, rotated slid his hand in between metal pieces. ¡°Got it,¡± he yelled. It was a sound of relief.


    ¡°What is it?¡± asked Judy. She could only see one leg wiggle between the dark metal pieces. The room felt like a formula one engine.


    Without asking, he pushed a button. There was a loud click.


    - Modulator Engaged -


    There was another sound as something slid open in view of the camera.


    ¡°Wang, I see something.¡±


    He pulled out and saw the small panel revealed next to the anchor of the mirror.


    ¡°What level of modulation do we need?¡± He said out of breath from the excitement.


    The Captain was precise with what she said next, ¡°Mars, I have orders.¡±


    The two at Mars Command were puzzled. ¡°You must assume some people out there are trying real hard to derail our arrival. So you guys are prohibited to communicate with anyone but me and the working satellite, Regulation Section 2.034. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡± They were puzzled.


    ¡°We have modulation on board, a gift from our President. What level of modulation do you need?¡±


    ¡°19.85%, to be clear, you need to receive only 19.85% of the light we send, 80.15% of it must not push.¡±


    ¡°You hear this Wang?¡±


    He added, ¡°This thing is not that precise,¡± he pushed buttons. ¡°Do they prefer nineteen or twenty?¡± Judy relayed. A moment later she returned, ¡°Nineteen, that will delay us by only twelve minutes it seems. The entry will be a tad more difficult, we can miss an orbit or push faster with our rotation.¡±


    ¡°Nineteen it is.¡± He pushed the buttons.


    ¡°Wang, the boys on Mars are in lockdown. No communication, the same here on our end. I can¡¯t let anyone in the plane know about this. If we have a terrorist on board, that person might react. Lock yourself in, brace for the next twelve hours and good luck with the gravity.¡±


    ¡°Amen to that, good luck.¡±


    ***


    For most of the passengers of the Airbus A2070, the trauma created by the Mars approach, deceleration, and orbital entry would haunt them for decades - or until their collective addiction for the game returned. Milly Wong, the CNN journalist was pivotal in creating and maintaining the ship-wide hysteria. Passengers passed out from the return of gravity, one began sobbing uncontrollably after nine hours. The turn, in upper atmospherewas very bumpy. To put it mildly, changes would have to be made for the next atmospheric reentry, every bold in this bird would need tightening.


    Sophie slept through all of it like a baby, the full sixteen hours.


    The attendant who had given her the sedative worried in silence. Once in a while, the woman would pretend to adjust her straps or pillow but in fact, she checked her pulse. Sophie was no ordinary person, everyone cared deeply for her. The attendant kept her worries from the Captain, the poor woman was earning her pay.


    Pushed by the laser, the Airbus slowed for hours until it reached the mere velocity of four thousand kilometers per hour. It was then rotated on its x-axis, relative to the planet to face the weak atmosphere. The Light Drive reflector was folded back into the stern of the ship and Wang knew he should have not been there. Slowly some weightlessness returned inside the ship for a moment a stand up beds folded.


    Wang wanted to make his way back to the cockpit from the engine room, he had hurt his eye during the deceleration. The place was filled with sharp edges. Minutes before the atmospheric entry, as the room was being open to space, she let him see the doctor as both converged to the cockpit under the probing look of dozens of cameras. The sight of passengers applauding the wounded hero, walking out of the back made for great television. He stumbled as if on cue. Judy would make fun of him for the rest of his life. No one knewthe President had anticipated. The Media selling a narrative of space terrorists already portrayed Wang as some genius engineer who saved the ship by a feat of engineering miracle. As the images slowly crawl to Earth, the generals and national security experts let the die land where they must.


    The long wings on the Airbus bent up slightly as the ship entered the low-density Martian atmosphere, plunging toward Olympus Mons. On the side in orbit floated a large laser and the whitish shaped of a deformed moon. The other rock was not visible. The sight was simply breathtaking but few bothered. The wireless connection with the Electoral reconnected mid flight and the players lost no time.


    With all the commotion and precaution, the A2070 was five hours late at reentry, Judy had let one orbit pass and dropped the modulation mid-course. The speed at which the ship dropped in the day sky was surprising. In less than thirty minutes, the Airbus rolled in on the landing strip at the base of Olympus Mons on a strange runway made of gravel. Behind the ship once it hit the runway, a plume of rocks lifted and took minutes to gently return to the ground. This wasn¡¯t a light glide down, instead the trajectory felt more like a rock falling from the sky. There was no fire or smoke trailing the craft as on Earth, missing water molecules and oxygen let the dioxide gas slide undisturbed.


    The landing reception, initially scheduled around noon was postponed. Normally the priority would have been the dead passenger or the wounded engineer, but instead the true priority of the trip returned: Electoral 2072. There was something much more important going on, a game set up by the Electoralgame system called the Presidential Challenge.


    Ordinarily, there were scheduled interviews before the game. The passengers gladly gave up their televised arrivals for some peaceful time in their luxurious rooms. There would be time to climb to the hotel lobby once the Presidential Challenge was over. Each person had family members playing the Challenge, all others were watching tens of simulations of loved ones. Yes, a game played over the Internet was the number one importance. The national obsession had returned even with a body being rolled on a stretcher, arrival on Mars, and the hundreds of other things which should have been a healthy focus.


    Electoral''s broadcast, even in the wake of a life and death situation remained so compelling that the world paused to watch. The Presidential Challenge, played and organized by the Electoral 2072 software, would be epic. President Emilio Sanchez, a two-time winner, was preparing himself in his Berlin office for his performance. This was by far the largest fund-raising simulation ever held. The passengers and remaining competitors were not allowed to participate.


    Two security guards walked into the ship and took the sleeping girl from seat 1A. Judy wanted to object, but her authority had stopped with the Airbus land. The men ignored the Captain and took the girl from with the kindness of a parent. Judy hoped the young princess would be alright.


    ¡°Where are you taking her?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Confinement,¡± shamefully replied the large man. He was unable to even look the Captain in the eyes. They were not joking and were upset by it.

 Chapter 23

    CNN - Earth


    The two news anchors were well past excited, they lived to be on air. This would be the largest audience ever recorded in human history. It came in the wake of the breathtaking rescue of the Airbus A2070 mere hours ago. The staff managed a ten minute delay with brilliance, in fact none even understood there was a delay. "The timing could not be any better," remarked the female anchor, as she began reading from the prompter scrolling inside of her contact lenses.


    "Yes, indeed," replied her neighbor, reading from the same script. It was easy to see the two were cute puppets in the skillful hands of producers. As was the channel''s custom, the two would keep alternating line after line on the air until it was time for a commercial break. CNN was not about putting recognized stars on air, each journalist was unknown and merely a piece of the greater puzzle. Milly, the journalist sent to Mars had a following.


    "I know it has been a full two weeks without an Electoral 2072 simulation. The launchpad Round 25 feels like an eternity ago. But last Friday night we made up the airtime with fun from the ship.¡±


    ¡°We are in a break as the remaining a hundred twenty-seven players, sorry make that twenty-six players, make their way to their rooms in the luxury hotel on Mars. Instead, we get a treat.¡±


    ¡°A new president will be elected in just seven more rounds. The 64 losers of Round 26, to be played in three days will earn a nice job, not bad if you ask me. The next 32 out of the competition will get even better positions. Each round half are disqualified until we are left on November 21 with two people fighting for the jobs of President and Vice-President of the United Nations."


    ¡°Fingers crossed those two are Laurent and Emilio, that would be epic. Sophie¡¯ birthday is by pure coincidence on the night of the finale.¡±


    ¡°Nothing with Marilyn is even random.¡±


    "Electoral, what a great system, a merit-based election. Most countries still hold the old corrupt system of favoritism and nepotism, where the richest and most influential family wins, irrespective of any skill he or she may have. How humanity managed to use this system is beyond me."


    "Insane,¡± agreed the co-anchor. ¡°Most countries are now thinking about using Marilyn for their local elections¡±


    "I feel strange repeating, to you the viewer, what is going to happen today. Everyone has been talking about this simulation for weeks. Going back in Electoral for many and a first surf for the rest who did not sign up.¡±


    ¡°Today''s amazing landing and rescue took over the headlines and had us forget about the Electoral game for a couple of hours, no more."


    "We have been glued to our screens for hours now as the true heroism of Judy Arrigoni and engineer Wang are in full display - live on CNN. Their talent saved that spaceship from assured destruction. Let¡¯s send Laurent some well needed positive energy, we hope he is fine and he will be back in the saddle for the next Round."


    The screen behind the anchors was playing images of Wang on the Mars landing pad, patch on his eye, leaving the ship with a medical escort. The passengers on the ship could not stop cheering him on. The engineer seemed uneasy, almost humble. Milly''s live coverage of the events was equally amazing. She asked him the question on everyone''s mind. "Wang, the creator of the drive himself said it could not be done. You single-handedly saved the ship. How do you feel?"


    He waited a moment before answering. "All of the merit goes to the Captain. She made the call. All I did was follow her plan. That''s what engineers do." The words were not convincing. The contestants refused to stop clapping. Humility was rare and valuable in 2072.


    "Take a look!" pointed Milly at a wall screen next to his stretcher. There stood the image of Wang''s mother. The stern Korean woman was in tears. She was sitting on her couch in her home back in Vancouver, Canada. The feed was live but sent minutes ago with the speed of light delay. The engineer knew he was millions of miles away from Earth, now on a different planet, yet there was his mother on the wall. He had almost forgotten that a billion strangers were watching.


    "Ms. Wang,¡± said a voice, ¡°l have your son here with me, what do you want to tell him?"


    ¡°I am so proud of you, of him, I always knew my son was going to save the world one day!" The journalist wanted emotion, and she was getting tons of it.


    "She is no tiger mom!" joked Milly.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    The feed returned to the CNN news studio. "John, isn''t this incredible? We are only minutes away from the start of the Presidential Challenge, and we still have not wrapped our heads around the rescue of the ship that just took place."The screen was, as usual, filled with scrolling tickers and ads.


    "Yes, Debbie, this is amazing. For once Electoral has nothing to do with this news."


    "Not so fast! She is the reason why everyone is on that ship. She built the hotel and is going to run the Presidential Challenge in a couple of minutes Almost a billion people are registered.¡±


    "If Electoral doesn''t overheat today, with well over seven hundred million people connected to the system around the world, this will be the most amazing virtual-reality game ever played. If she pulls this off, she will prove what many already believe, that she is now of limitless power." The woman continued. "Half of you are using Orbison glasses, the other half can afford Screenlenzes. A few lucky ones have secured a spot in the few 3D chambers approved for use by Marilyn. For once, the game is open to any technology, she does not care all this goes to charity."


    "Just in case a viewer living in a cave just bought his first television today, can you remind him what the Presidential Challenge is all about?" She was reading the script.


    "I sure can." News editors rarely strayed from the obvious. "Today everyone will play Loric the wizard, by far the most powerful character ever used in Electoral''s fantasy setting. Long-haired, robes and all. I hope you all watched this year''s Round 7 where the army of General Verdi attacks, yes, it¡¯s a simple repeat. But to make this more fun, everyone should be starting the game with more magic, then kaboom! This will be epic! No boring time spell, that¡¯s the only new rule.¡±


    "John, remind us of today''s incredible prizes!"


    "First, no one gets any qualification points. All the remaining players are on Mars: none can log in except the President, stuck on Earth. The Challenge is not part of the election, let''s make that clear for the viewers." He touched his earbud. "I was told the players just entered the hotel on Mars and are waiting until after the Challenge to discover the beautiful Holiday Inn Mars, house of the century-old sundae." The man was used to making shameless plugs for sponsors. ¡°Great TV after great TV. They were asked to go to their rooms so we can discover, through their eyes the lobby of the new hotel.¡±


    "We also have several reports from Nancy, our journalist already on Mars. The welcoming ceremony has been postponed to allow the workers and staff to play the Presidential Challenge."


    "Well-needed low gravity rest for the finalists. The''ll sleep for days like babies. I was told Sophie is still sleeping. She missed the entire landing and is now in her own private room."


    "Great for her."


    "We have one-on-one interviews with famous players, and much more immediately after the Challenge."


    "Some rules. Signing up to the Challenge costs 100 credits, quite a reasonable price for an hour of exhilarating virtual simulation inside the impossible-to-play Electoral system. You can''t get a decent cup of coffee these days with 100 credits. No game on the market offers the realism of Electoral."


    "Nothing even comes close."


    "Access to the Electoral interface is well guarded. She is always very careful about preventing players from entering the interface. She wants to make sure the rich are not favored in her election through extra practice that the poor can''t afford. Today is a rare opportunity for anyone who may be thinking of running for office in four years to test the system. They will test their skills, and play with the magical interface."


    "God knows how Electoral will have evolved by 2077. Her interface today, in 2072, looks and feels nothing like the Electoral 2067 interface."


    "True."


    "The money collected today, estimated at over 70 billion credits, will be split evenly among the designated charities of the top-scoring ten thousand contestants. That''s a maximum of seven million credits per each winning player''s charity. The Red Cross has over half a million participants playing on its behalf. Can you imagine the possible payday for that organization? You play, you win, your charity wins.¡±


    "This is by far the largest fund-raising event in the history of mankind. One way or another, seventy billion credits will go to charity today!"


    "What about Emilio? John, tell us why this is called the Presidential Challenge."


    "My pleasure. Emilio is playing for the Tsunami Relief Fund, an international charity without physical borders. It rebuilds entire countries ravaged by tsunamis. The President¡¯s score, if higher than a winning top player will steal the money back to his own. The charity will get the money of all of the contestants President Sanchez manages to beat. But don''t feel bad. A minimum of one million credits will still go to the charity of each of the winning contestants even if Emilio beats them."


    "Wow, that means if the President wins, sixty billion credits would go to this single charity."


    "If our President were not unnaturally gifted at this game, I would say his odds are not great, but the charity already has reserved a room in the Presidential Tower in Berlin. If Emilio does well, it will be an amazing party, I am told."


    "The President always dominates the fantasy simulations, but the number of players alone." The anchorwoman touched her earpiece and said, "Okay, the producer tells me we are ready to send the feed to Electoral. Take it away Marilyn!"


    Hundreds of hours of news could now be produced, each worthy of special consideration as events unfolded in the real world. The hotel, the planet, the atmosphere. In the sky the Glass slipper was under a second test ride. The lobby of the majestic place was shiningly new. Sophie and Laurent were being transferred away from the cameras. What mattered was Electoral.


    ***


    Invisible to all, the gaming system used Rho waves, but unlike Round 24¡¯s stimulating music, laced with them, the game was set up to collect the energy. The neural cortex of every player connected to the game flared in mental waves. Endorphins were being produced around the world and every person connected felt a strange exhilaration. Electoral was a rush stronger than any drug.

 Chapter 24

    The Presidential Challenge


    Two billion screens went black.


    Marilyn Monroe, the artificial intelligence, mastered game introductions like no one else. Today she began with Vivaldi''s Four Seasons. The music was soft, and every note was distinct and perfect. She prolonged the darkness as if something was being prepared behind the dark digital curtain before the viewer.


    Tibetan drums began to beat.


    Boom -- Boom.


    They started slowly, the rhythm increasing with time.


    Boom -- Boom.


    Alphorn mountain-horns joined. High in the fabric of time itself, as though something was rushing to punch through the darkness.


    ¡°It¡± happened.


    Silence returned as if sound itself offered respect to the image. In the darkness, a dot of light punched the screens. It wasn''t a star, a light, or a laser. This was the original tear in the fabric of space-time itself. On the screen was born every quark or photon of the Big Bang. The dot was the mother of all detonations, yet no one was injured.


    Then the music returned with full force. A colorful shockwave of universal proportions began to spread in all directions, but instead of filling the void of this cold, lifeless place, it was expanding the fabric of space. The shockwave spread like gushing flames below a door ready to explore from its hinges.


    Watching Electoral was unlike any other experience. No one knew it, but she had developed so much power that she could digitally enhance each screen using proprietary algorithms. She read a viewer''s ocular characteristics, where each eye centered, the age and condition of each retina, and adjusted the display for optimal viewing. The music was equally remastered to provide for the perfect pitch to each eardrum. She played with brain waves to further enhance the experience.


    Marilyn didn''t put on a show; she was the show. From birth, she was programmed to be the ultimate showoff and narcissist, and she delivered time and time again, without fail. There were no skeptics of her capacity to entertain. Electoral was a rush.


    What came next was too much for anyone to endure. An expanding wall of light, fire, and plasma of the expanding outer edges of the bubble universe rolled in. Galaxies were splitting apart in the plasma. As the wall crashed through the point of view of each viewer, everyone blinked. A heartbeat later, Electoral timed to perfection the arrival of the bold lettering across the universe:


    The Presidential Challenge


    The audience members were in for the ride of their lives. Reading ocular movements, Marylin was able to fade out the words precisely at the time when each viewer finished reading. Like a butterfly caught in a gentle summer breeze, tired of watching the heart of the universe expand, a black hole was quickly collapsing, sucking back some of the matter it had just released. The camera turned to follow the cooling veil of matter speeding into the void.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    The flight of a butterfly resumed in the direction of a portion of this universe. In the distance, galaxies were forming and exploding, patterns began rotating, and nova were releasing matter like giant fireworks. The universe was aging rapidly. Every astronomer watching was in awe. To recreate this opening scene, Electoral had compiled over two hundred years of astrophysics. Every star was in place. She did enhance the density and the colors for a better visual effect. No one would fault her. The beauty was breathtaking. It was impossible to feel anything but awe watching the universe''s creation.


    Each viewer was taken on an amazing ride through the galactic landscape, down to an insignificant solar system on one arm of the Milky Way.When the camera reached the outer edges of our solar system, it finally slowed. As it made its way to the Sun, it glided through the upper atmosphere of several planets. The camera passed over Jupiter and between its rings, then next to the tilted Saturn, and through the asteroid belt.


    There stood the blue planet, the most beautiful and priceless jewel in the universe.


    Earth was not the final destination.


    The flight of the creature continued and made its way to the cloudy mess called Venus. Electoral knew better; the Venusian clouds were rotating counter-clockwise. In the distance was the burning yellow star we call the Sun. The Sun, once a dot, was now growing in size as the camera angle moved toward it. By the time Mercury could be distinguished from the burning magma, the star was now deep orange and covered with bubbling plasma. On Mercury, next to the North Pole, stood a crater with a small white glacier of carbonic ice. It sparkled inviting.


    The viewpoint did not stop at the closest planet, instead it plunged into the Sun''s heliosphere, then head-first into the corona. The wings of the creature were made of sparkling ruby. As the viewpoint and the butterfly advanced down to the core of the Sun, a heavy and dense liquefied rotating bubble was distinguishable. This star''s heart was spinning rapidly.


    The core was formed by a recently discovered new type of matter. A Russian astrophysicist named David Liptvitch argued for the existence of a harder element, a ball of fusion derivatives he called Heliocorium. The Russian''s theory was unproven, but watching Electoral incorporate his theory into the simulation was the best validation he could hope for. Electoral believed him, and she did not improvise science.


    Then the camera plunged deeper still into the core of the Sun, right into the ball of Heliocorium. David was watching the simulation from his living room. What he saw next was chilling. He stood up. Inside the Heliocorium floated something that looked like dark black magma. The movement of the magma was irregular. In it were moving bumps like the belly of a pregnant woman. Not only did Marilyn believe him, but she had also improved upon his theory. Something was off.


    The camera moved out of the black matter and emerged on the other side back to an outer layer of Heliocorium, rapidly making its way to the other side of the Sun until the butterfly was back in orange magma. Climbing out of the Sun was more difficult with the gravitational pull. The winding road was traveled by the butterfly like a salmon swimming upstream. Viewers were dodging explosions and vortices as they finally rose out of the heliosphere back in deep black space.


    There it was!


    The new red jewel of the system.


    One single planet stood against the backdrop: Mars. The music climaxed.


    The red rock was waiting patiently and pulsing what seemed to be waves able to deform and ripple the cosmos around the planet. Judy, the ship¡¯s captain had seen these waves around the young sleeping girl. Players on Earth were about to play a game run from a computer located on mars, halfway across the solar system tens of light-seconds away. Mars was even, as shown, hidden on the other side of the boiling white star. The butterfly moved closer, entered the atmosphere until the spike of the Electoral Complex appeared proudly, the waves were being emitted from here. Then, the screen changed.


    Electoral 2072 - The Presidential Challenge.


    There was a long commercial break.

 Chapter 25

    The CNN anchors were back on the air, and if at all possible, even more excited than before. Frenetic energy virtually poured off of them.


    "Wow, that was amazing! Did you see the screen resolution?"


    "She really keeps raising the bar. The moons of Jupiter, those rings, it''s just like being there."


    "When Round 7 played two months ago, only twenty-five million people were connected and played that round. Back then, the Earth and Mars were in the same system quadrant and light-seconds from each other. Today we are playing the same scenario, and almost a billion people are signed up to play simultaneously. Even worse for Marilyn, the Sun is smack in the way between both planets. She has no relay station, and experts have no clue how she plans to communicate with that giant exploding ball of magma in the way!"


    "How does she do it?"


    "All experts agree, she has to be powerful enough to send her feeds around the Sun. But who cares how she does it."


    "But that is not the most amazing thing. We know there have to be long delays because information simply cannot travel faster than the speed of light, yet again she does it. She seems to mock Einstein''s general relativity." John was clearly reading the prompter and had no clue about what he was parroting.


    "As usual, she is even outshining her old self. By old, I mean two weeks ago." They both laughed.


    "A guest last week reminded us that even if she managed to run each simulation with one single watt of power, she still would need the energy of a nuclear power plant to run the game for all these players. Every scientist is dumbfounded by what she is doing. We better get used to how great she is."


    "Well, today it''s ours to enjoy. Back to Electoral."


    The screens turned black, there was the Electoral logo for a fraction of a second, and the simulations began. The beautiful Marilyn Monroe stood in a medieval kitchen. The walls around her were made of whitish stones piled in irregular arrangements. There was a stone oven in a corner in which flames baked a loaf of some kind of bread. On the side of the oven were little ledges where other baked loaves were cooling. The blond woman was folding dough on a large wooden table. Her long locks were pushed into a little maid''s hat. Her entire outfit was unbelievably seductive.


    For those who knew the original Marilyn Monroe, the new 21st-century digital version was rather easy to distinguish. Electoral, the artificial intelligence, wore the Monroe trademark freckle on the left side and not the right. The digital goddess was working in the kitchen of Loric''s castle at the edge of Loric''s Comb. She looked at the camera and smiled.


    "Welcome, my darlings, to this year''s Presidential Challenge; the first of its kind. There will be no scoring at the end of this simulation. I will simply apply a grade sheet. It''s rather simple. Points are given like a normal video game, each time you kill something. The nastier the monster, the greater the point award. I have given a copy of the scoring rules to the accounting firm of Alvarez & Piton. I am sad to report that something as creative as Emilio''s simulation from Round 7 cannot be graded. This round is about fun, excitement, and, most importantly, a needed outlet for stress and frustration." She pulled the finished bread out of the oven with a long wooden plank.


    "I have doubled the number of magic points each of you will receive. You heard me right, though your selected configuration at the outset may modify that base number. I have also increased the size of the invading army. Frankly, it''s limitless. I have also included a bunch of shortcut commands in the interface and set up multiple default defensive spells. Each time you take a hit, your magic points will go down until you reach zero, in which case, game over." She was now cutting the bread and preparing a nice tray for Loric as she spoke.


    There was an image of the wizard sleeping upstairs in the tower, but the camera quickly returned to her. "Take the first five minutes to familiarize yourself with these new commands. They are found under the tab called ¡°shortcuts.¡± Oh, almost forgot . . . ." Holding a platter in both hands, she pushed the wooden door with her foot. "Some little cheaters are using Neuro-Patches. They are illegal on Earth, and honestly, it''s better that way. You guys have 30 seconds to remove them. Otherwise, the simulation will not run, and we will keep your 100 credits. I''ve also set ten gore ratings running the gauntlet from PG-13 to one where I promise you will be covered in blood and guts after two minutes of play. Just set it the way you want as you play and as the others watch."


    Who could not love that interface? She was the ultimate in live digital entertainment.


    There was a noise in the distance up the stairs. "Loric just woke up! I have to go. Finally, Emilio, the President himself, is in his office playing at the same time as everyone else. To make sure you can enjoy his performance, I will wait and broadcast his game only in the second hour, once you are all finished and you know your scores. If you are one of the winners, your point total will blink in gold. So sit tight, relax, and enjoy the ride. The charities thank you."


    She winked as only Marilyn could.


    "Back to you, John!"


    The cameras cut back to the large CNN studio.


    ***


    "This is going to be stellar!" said the CNN anchor. "Electoral warned us in advance that Emilio''s performance would broadcast only in the second hour of today''s show. CNN has reserved the rights to watch and show you the performance of three different fun players. All three will be available online, but we can broadcast only one. Please vote from home on which you prefer." Numbers began to scroll next to pictures of the three candidates.


    Debbie continued. "Vote A if you want Willie Gist, football star of Real Madrid. Vote B if you want Jamie Douglass, our famous current Vice President no longer in the competition, and vote C if you want to see Stephen C. Colbert, Jr., the actor, and nephew of the famous comedian from the ''30s."


    The numbers kept changing as announcers battled for airtime. Two minutes later, the result was clear. An overwhelming number of viewers wanted to see their favorite football star fight the army. This was, after all, a physical endurance test, and who better than an athlete.


    "I hear Willie is ready, he is pre-programming his interface," said John. A camera showed the star standing in a large empty room surrounded by padded walls.The football player was going to fight using hand and feet combat interface. As he moved, the system would react. This would be to him like kick-boxing.


    On the screen was blinking the words: War Wizard package selected.


    "Back at home, make sure you have the right gore setting entered because this is going to get real messy fast. Willie set the gore at 10 for our viewership¡¯s entertainment. Anyone below 18 should stick to level 3 or less." Every person who was not playing the simulation was able to watch a friend''s live performance. In fact, most people had hundreds of simulations queued for recording.


    "Debbie,¡± rushed in the other voice, ¡°I am told we are going live in 5, 4, 3, let''s go!"


    The Presidential Challenge began with the same beautiful view of the landscape on the edge of the South Sea. The cliff was tall, and on its edge rested the castle of the wizard. This place was named Loric''s Comb. The sky was blue, the largest Sun of this two-star world was up, with the smaller red star also partly visible behind its bigger yellow companion.


    The following appeared across the sky.


    Willie Gist, age 24


    Electoral 2072 - Presidential ChallengeSupport creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Profession: Center - Real Madrid C.F.


    Magic Points Left: 134


    The same way Sophie was able to see President Emilio''s performance as a movie, the CNN viewers would see Willie''s live performance as if they were watching a full feature. Nothing short of the Electoral interface could offer real-time editing of a game made into a movie. Every camera angle was perfect. Electoral did in milliseconds what a top-flight Hollywood studio needed a year to accomplish. To add insult to injury, Marilyn also did it live from mars without the slightest delay.


    When Marilyn opened the door to the wizard''s bedroom at the top of the flight of stairs, the Loric character was meditating on the bed, legs folded. The wizard''s appearance was completely different than what Sophie had seen a day earlier. The strong man was short with a buzz-cut blond hair. The body was lean and athletic. Most of the War Wizard''s skin was covered by magical blue shining glyphs tattooed on his skin. The war runes were weapons capable of coming alive with a touch. Willie had loaded his character with over sixty magical points of glyphs. These spells were designed to hurt, so every tattoo was war-inspired.


    "Breakfast, sir?" asked Marilyn.


    "What a beautiful day," he answered. Most players froze each time they faced Marilyn in the interface. She was beauty incarnate. The football player was used to stardom, but he still hesitated.


    "Indeed, sir, indeed."


    The screen blinked red.


    A robotic voice in the background said:


    -- Sixth-sense alert, incoming danger. Attacking dragons, two hundred meter range. --


    "Ten-second pause," answered Willie as the image of his War Wizard remained lips closed in meditation. The players of the game had a couple of minutes of pauses to enter instructions into the computer interface.


    -- Ten second pause granted. Activated. --


    -- Three hundred fifty seconds of pause left in the simulation. --


    "Cast spell," said Willie.


    -- Which type? --


    "Cast scan spell!" answered Willie.


    -- Scan reveals ice dragon above tower - will breathe cold ice.--


    The magic points went down by one.


    -- Several waves of dragons on attack, including fire and lightning. Power of attack sufficient to destroy the tower. Maid will die. --


    "Cast teleportation, me and maid. Me in . . . . "


    Then on the screen, there was a flashing notice.


    -- Third-person mode activated --


    Someone at CNN had failed to activate the third-person mode. Viewers were watching the interface from Willie''s perspective instead of watching the movie. This stressful mode made for really poor television. Someone at the station was going to lose his or her job over this. The simulation resumed, but this time the blinking colors, the voices, and the numbers floating around the screen disappeared. What was left was a fully edited live show. The mistake actually provided a nice insight into the mental overload experienced by the player of this game.


    Learning how to use the Electoral interface was not easy for all but a handful. The young generation, those born after 2050, had fewer problems with it. The simulation resumed without the complexities of the game interface.


    In the game, the player''s image was layered onto the War Wizard. Loric looked like a young famous football player. From the bedroom in the tower, he teleported alone into the middle of the large area of grass, a clearing halfway between the wood and the castle standing at the edge of the cliff. This open area would be the perfect spot in which to fight the first wave of the army.


    Willie''s beautifully ornate, gold and silver-lined outfit was a testament to Electoral''s attention to details. The character''s armor breastplate would have made a Caesar blush with envy. On the character''s limbs were tattoos lit up with blue fire; these matched the runes on the armor. The wizard held a large staff in his left hand made of blue crystal and ivory, topped with a metal dragon figurine. On his right hand was a massive glove made of dragon skin, bathed in magical red fire.


    Willie was playing a god of war. He had cold-based spells and fire-based spells just in case the monsters coming his way were immune to either.


    As promised, the fighting began, and there was simply too much for the eye to see. In the sky, swarms of dragons of all colors were spiraling down onto the Comb. In the distance, the woods were being torn asunder by the advance of large multi-headed monsters. The air around Willy was filled with electricity and magical explosions. In the distance, the tower of the castle exploded, crushed by the icy breath of the great azure dragons. Rocks flew in every direction and rained like oversized shrapnel in the clearing as the oversized lizards shrieked in triumph. Boulders hit Loric and bounced off a magical shield. Willie was slashing and killing.


    The largest dragons spiraled, shrieking hysterically. Once they saw the wizard in the clearing, they moved as swiftly as sparrows and zeroed onto him.


    Loric pointed his fiery gauntlet at one of the dragons, and a massive column of fire dashed out at the incoming blue lizard. It reduced the winged creature to a cinder. One by one the carcasses crashed everywhere like airplanes shot out of the sky. Loric then pointed a staff at a black dragon, and a bolt of lightning hit the oily creature. The belly of the black flying monster exploded, releasing a rain of acid. The gobs ate the grass they landed on the ground. Loric was now down to 121 magic points.


    The war wizard kept throwing spells, hitting the dragons in mid-flight. This was epic. They were responding in kind, breathing ice, fire, and lightning. The sky and the clearing were filled by a swarm of monsters. Heavy metal music filled the interface.


    Then the war wizard was hit by an unseen force that uprooted a large chunk of Earth below his feet and sent him flying a mile into the air. The dragons followed his trajectory and crashed on their prey the moment he hit the ground. The pressure of the claws on the shielding around his armor sizzled and sparkled with blue light. One by one, the magic points were going down.


    Loric needed to change the game. He moved a finger, and one of the skin glyphs flew out from the surface of his body. As it did, the ink transformed into a shower of titanic blades, each the size of a house, slicing away in every direction. The blades cut through several dragons, transforming them into tons of dead flesh on the ground.


    The deaths of dragons only enraged the others. They all came down crashing like a swarm of bees upset at losing their queen. For over five minutes, Loric kept sending killing runes from his skin, and carcasses filled the area. As the glyphs were sent into the enemies, his skin and armor returned to their natural tones. His magic points were slowly being depleted. He had killed fifty dragons.


    This game was a blast to play. Willie was clearly enjoying himself, smiling ear to ear in the television studio and in the virtual reality. He was covered in sweat.


    His magic points were now down to fifty, and by the looks of things, there were still thousands of dragons left to fight. Loric had to change his approach. The wizard yelled a strange command and shoved the metal tip of his staff into the ground. There was a detonation, and a shockwave turned the Earth into guided shrapnel, striking every beast around him. The shockwave disoriented the giant lizards, who struggled to fly or regain footing.


    The magic points went down to 23 in a single drop. The next spell would be massive. Loric barked a command, lifted the staff, and the sky opened to a dark place. The rip abruptly sucked in the flying monsters away into a different universe, before closing behind them. Playing such a powerful game was undeniably addictive. Even from a distance, the experience was overwhelming. Willie, as the War Wizard, was a god!


    Unable to celebrate the victory, he heard orders snap in the distance. They came from the army in the woods. A volley of flaming boulders shot up from hundreds of hidden catapults. The rocks arced in his direction. The men in the woods had been waiting patiently for an opening, and this was it.


    Down in the sea, on the other side of the Comb, were thousands of ships, also ready for the attack. They were also equipped with catapults. The boats swayed in the water as tons of rock flew upwards past the castle, to land in the clearing where Willie was standing. The thumping of hundreds of falling boulders was deafening, and his destruction was imminent. In the blink of an eye, Loric teleported himself into the forest amongst an army of thousands. To add to the chaos and noise, some of the boulders rolled into the castle, sending it crashing down below into the sea taking ships in the volley.


    The real Willie was drenched in sweat. He had now been playing for four minutes, but with his brain in overdrive, it felt like he had been in the fray for an eternity. His magic points were down to 13. Chunks of the cliff broke off, and the entirety of Loric''s Comb began to slip into the sea, creating massive waves that swamped several ships from the armada. The other boats fired again. There was no doubt in this army.


    Loric, as played by Willie, had more pressing matters to attend to. Next to him was a huge green troll resetting one of the catapults. The creature saw him and dropped the boulder on its own foot. It did not care. The woods were filled with armored humans, orcs, goblins and other ugly creatures found in any good fantasy game. Willie was having the time of his life. From his perspective, he was surrounded by monsters in a forest half-destroyed and burning.He was playing the most exhilarating first-person game in the solar system.


    The hacking resumed, but this time against smaller land creatures. Arrows were flying from all directions at Loric. The war wizard''s staff was blowing-up the bases of trees as it touched them, sending the trunks crashing down on enemies. The creatures surrounding Loric were no match for his fiery dragon gauntlet; at a touch, they burned like kerosene-soaked torches.


    The fight continued for another minute. Arrows from a distance kept bouncing on Loric''s shields, which were slowly depleting in power. The magic points continued their stately march to zero as the flood of creatures continued unabated. Willie wondered how many monsters were in this army. He killed thousands after thousands before the dragons returned above in the sky.


    Only minutes after the simulation started, the magic points finally reached zero, and the first arrow punctured his chest in the game. Then a dragon swooped in and snapped its jaws shut on the wizard. As the final remnants of the castle stopped falling into the sea, horns of victory resounded in the army.


    The simulation ended.


    Commercials of all types followed for over ten minutes.

 Chapter 26

    The broadcast of Willie''s performance ended as abruptly as it had started. The end of these simulations was always hard on the player''s brain, akin to walking off an hour-long roller coaster ride. There was no easy transition out of Electoral, just a sudden jolt back into reality. The interface felt like the brain was connected on a higher level with the technology than a simple trade of information.


    Marilyn''s games always ended with a glaring "Game Over" or "The End" written across the screen.


    "That was crazy!" yelled Willie in the room, while trying to remove the contact lenses, his hands shaking from the influx of adrenaline. A studio producer unzipped the back of his exosuit, revealing his naked chest to the delight of half of the viewership. "Fuck, fuck, such reality!" He was babbling to himself. "The bloodshed!" His eyes were bloodshot, and his pupils were dilated. "Insane, insane!"


    "Must have been quite a rush to play," said the slightly distant voice of the anchorwoman. "Come to the set, Willie. Marilyn will score your performance live with us." The co-anchor continued. "Marilyn promised hack and slash, and she delivered what looked like the ultimate of all slash-fests."


    "How big was that army?" asked Willie bouncing like a boxer having just won a game his way to the set. He was handed a towel with the large CNN logo on it.


    "I have no clue, but it seemed endless. There were legions upon legions of monsters in the distance." The woman turned to the audience. "Willie barely made a dent in the dragon wave, and the troll wave was only scratched. Electoral warned us, this scenario is not one that players can expect to win. This was a slasher, you just kill and survive as long as you can."


    "Felt like forever."


    "Willie''s game lasted under than seven minutes. Hurry up! We are ready to discover your score live on air."


    Cameras showed Willie grab a bottle of water and jump over floor cables. The studio technology appeared old-fashioned. The world-class athlete was drenched in sweat. The man''s short blond hair was in shambles. He stumbled several times, but quickly regained his footing and made his way to his seat behind the desk wearing a towel over his shoulders.


    "Willie is one of the most agile people in the world, and he can barely walk! That must have been brutal!"


    The man finally sat, "Willie, how was that?"


    "Fucking amazing! What a fucking rush!"


    The vulgarity of the language made the hosts cringe. He corrected himself. "Oh my God, the biggest . . . a ride off the Brooklyn Bridge. Total rush. It started at a hundred clicks. My brain is on fire. I was there . . . ." He could barely express himself. "I . . . ." As with most athletes, he was unable to keep his body from making sudden movements. His hand knocked a computer off the desk. "Sorry."


    The producers loved every second of it. "Did I smash most of it? What''s my score?" he asked.


    Electoral was amazing. Mere seconds after the end of the simulation, a short fully-edited clip of the best moments of the performance was available for download. CNN played Willie''s clip as the make-up artists tried to stop the athlete''s sweat. For some reason, the film had an emphasis on the destruction of the Comb. The war wizard was portrayed as the defender of the structure in it.


    "Did I do well? How long?" asked Willie as the returned on air. The journalists were back in full broadcast mode. They reintroduced their guest, and three experts stood ready off-set, just in case additional color was called for.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    "We have your results," The screen around Willie filled with statistics. "Your simulation was much longer than others. Let''s see!"


    The points began to toll up. The number increased, bells were sounding in the background as in an arcade. The number of settled on 1,546,500 and began to blink in gold color. He''d obviously won something.


    "Is that any good?" asked the sports star. John was trying to verify the score, producers were talking all over each other in his earpiece. Everyone in his ear was very excited.


    "Well, Willie," he finally said. "It seems like you did very well. We are now fifteen minutes into the simulation, and there are only a handful of people still in play, and most of them are just on the run being pursued by the army. We would love to show these simulations to our viewers, but there is no point in showing a contestant hiding below a tree stump." They all laughed.


    "Willie, you are in the top 10,000 in the preliminary rankings."


    "Really? How long was it? It felt like an hour!"


    "390 seconds, according to Marilyn."


    "Is that all?"


    They made small talk. "Willie, can you remind the viewers of which charity, you played for?"


    "I am playing for the Football League of the Ivory Coast, it helps provide shoes to kids in Africa."


    "That is wonderful. This report says you dispatched over three hundred enemies."


    "Felt like a million to me. This was insane, the best virtual game I have ever played. Insane! My heart is still beating at 180."


    As if the excitement could not get greater, John touched his earpiece, asked his producer to repeat himself, and interrupted the discussion. "Debbie, we have a special announcement from Electoral."


    "You''re go, Marilyn!"


    The screen changed back to the fantasy world. Marilyn was there wearing the armor previously worn by Willie but in a female version with a very revealing breastplate in Amazon warrior fashion. She was on the battlefield, weapons in both hands, surrounded by dead carcasses of dragons. There was fire and destruction everywhere around her. She removed her helmet, and her hair fell back into place elegantly.


    "Ooh la la . . . . that was even more . . . deadly than I anticipated. I am soooooo sorry!" Her smile was infectious. She blew a kiss and made her signature wink. "Even with the six minutes of pause available to each player, the average simulation lasted only a minute. This was so unfair to most who worked hard to raise these 100 credits. My scenario should have been more gradual. My goal was to test the limits of ingenuity, to see if anyone could win what cannot be won by design. This is my own little Kobayashi Maru test."


    In the distance behind Marilyn, a creature shrieked. Without shifting her eye focus from the camera, Marilyn raised her hand, and a bolt of fire gushed out, blasting a monster out of the sky. Marilyn was a goddess here, she liked to remind viewers of that fact.


    Her voice became extremely serious. "I am sure you are all wondering about the President''s performance. So am I." She was thoughtful for a moment, and then her jovial side returned. "To make sure everyone gets their money''s worth, I will run the same scenario in 48 hours, and everyone who lasted less than two minutes of play time, that means most of you, are invited back for free. This time, no fee, no prizes. We have a couple of days before the players are ready for the next round on Mars. There is something important I need to grab before the next game. It¡¯s called The Dot." She winked at the camera. "One little word to our 127 remaining contestants. The next scenario, while being held physically on Mars, will not be set there. That would be too easy. It¡¯s designed with our weak gravity in mind. Back to you, Debbie."


    The feed returned to the CNN television studio.


    "Willie, I am looking at the results here, you really did well. Was it worth 100 credits?"


    "Fuck," he corrected himself. "Yes, yes, yes," he could not stop himself. "This was the best!"


    The producer sent Debbie a message. "I am being told after the commercial break, once all of the results have been tabulated, Electoral will begin to play Emilio''s performance. It will play in full real time, and the points will be displayed as Emilio kills creatures. Winners like Willie will know if Emilio reaches their score, and beats them. On the corner of the screen, we will see the percentage of players Emilio has beaten, and how much money he raised for his own charity."


    "That''s really cool," said the jock. "What a great game."


    Debbie could not resist. "I want your charity to win all 7 million, but my heart is with Emilio. Our President is truly exceptional at this interface. I hope he steals back part of that."


    ¡°He won¡¯t!¡± smiled the player.


    "Debbie, we all want him to do well. Let''s see."

 Chapter 27

    Electoral 2072 - Presidential Challenge


    Emilio Wamarez Sanchez - President


    Age: 39


    Magic Points Left: 200


    The simulation began for President Emilio precisely the same way it did for the football player. Marilyn was in the kitchen of the castle, dressed in her maid outfit and preparing bread. "Welcome back everyone. A large portion of you are still with us, curious to see if Emilio will be stellar or will be blown away in minutes like most of you. More than two billion of you are watching. It''s called the Presidential Challenge for a good reason. Emilio is undefeated when playing Loric the wizard. It''s his favorite character. Thank you for the kindness and generosity, your participation will help so many.


    ¡°Of the five wizard templates offered to the players, two-thirds of the players picked the war wizard, who is adapted perfectly to this scenario. I can confirm that the war wizard users did score much better on average."


    On screen, she cut the burning-hot bread with a long knife. "Those who scored above 1,050,000, you won, and their charities will earn either 7 million credits each, or as low as a million if Emilio beats your score. The best scored ranked at just over three million. A souvenir is also on its way to you. Emilio''s charity will receive nothing unless he scores at least 1,050,000 points. Then, for each person he beats after that point, his charity, the Tsunami Relief Fund, will take back six of the seven million credits. That''s not something you want to happen. Let the Challenge begin."


    She arranged the bread slices in the basket before making her way up the stairs. "I don''t think anyone watching will be surprised to learn that Emilio picked the least favorite template offered, the one called the crystal warlock. The warlock''s specialties include teleportation, transformation, and mind control. Not really the best for this game of gore and blood, but let''s go see what the President has in mind, shall we?"


    She pushed the kitchen door with her shoulder while carefully balancing the wooden tray. "Why do I feel like this is the calm before the storm? I must confess, I wrote this game with one purpose in mind: place the President in the most uncomfortable situation possible. We all know he is a pure diplomat; he hates direct brute conflict. This scenario, at its core, is nothing more than killing. Sadly, good leaders are sometimes faced with one option only: the path of violence. Let''s see how he does - let¡¯s see if Emilio can win a war."


    Marilyn walked up to the warlock''s bedroom. She saw a glimpse of the man; he winked and blew her a kiss before he teleported from the tower of the castle. "Keep my dinner warm, Marie, I will be right back!" said the wizard played by the President. Loric¡¯s long hair laced with expensive jewelry was back.


    The warlock appeared with a ¡°pop¡± far above the castle in the blue sky. The Comb, his residence, was a dot in the landscape below. Three magic points were used to transport him so high. His face had the familiar features of the President. The warlock was wearing long white robes, and a simple red belt made of rope. He was several miles above the castle, halfway between him and the ground were dragons circling the tower with bloodshed in mind. He began a long fall downward. Emilio did not care, he enjoyed the wind. From this vantage point, he could see the entire invading army. Dragons were circling his tower, ready to attack. The sea was filled with boats, and the land army was spread for leagues around the castle. This was no army; it was a flood of creatures. Fighting was useless. Emilio needed to take care of this menace from a different perspective.


    The dragons in the sky were still well below him. The predators had just lost his smell, looking up, they quickly reacquired it. They pushed their heavy wings to begin their difficult ascension to reach him a second faster if at all. The lizards began beating their wings ferociously, climbing to meet him. Waiting the extra couple of seconds for the human to drop down to their altitude was not acceptable. The monsters were hunting. As he fell, face to the wind, Emilio extended both arms and yelled. "I, Loric, summon those loved ones, those taken from thy, allies of the sky!" A total of thirty-four magic points were removed from Loric''s Magic total. Large black portals opened around him. Approximately one hundred large dragon eggs of all colors appeared in the sky through the portals and began to fall toward their parents. Emilio guessed the humans had the beasts in servitude by holding the eggs hostage. He was, as always, correct. Five toddler dragons also appeared and began their long fall amidst the eggs. The small creatures could not fly. With the first shriek, the dragon horde broke into a frenzy. These were intelligent creatures; they knew what had just happened. Each dragon converged with speed to one egg: its own.


    Loric had at most a minute or two before hitting the ground. He cast a flight spell to stop his descent, and a language spell to talk to the creatures. He only had 161 magic points remaining. Each spell was elaborate; colors filled the sky around the warlock as he cast them. In the distance, he saw other flying creatures rise up from the forest. Catapults were dialed in, ready for him to drop a thousand feet. God, he loved this game. He and Willie shared at least one thing: they both had clearly had a blast playing the game.


    "I have freed your children from these monsters," he said in dragon tongue. "You are no longer enslaved. You owe me. Destroy the humans." In any other Electoral simulation, the dragons would have felt gratitude and agreed to turn against their masters. Not today. This round was about smashing, Marilyn had made herself clear.


    "Worm, we owe no debt to you. We leave you alive as repayment," said the largest red dragon.


    "You owe me."


    "We will not attack the army on your behalf. That would be suicide and would defeat a greater purpose." The creature was right.


    "Burn their cover, torch the woods as you leave."


    "Done!"You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Before the ground army could realize what was happening, the dragons swooped down, some holding an egg in their claws. The red dragons torched the woods. The combustible liquids used to fire up the catapults exploded poetically. This would give Loric time to handle other matters. The neutralization of all the dragons as they left the area gave him no points. The Electoral point system was clear: killing enemies was the only way to get points. This simulation was a hack and slash, and there were all sorts of bonuses for flamboyant kills, not political settlements.


    Emilio did not care about his score. He saw the size of the army, he needed to buy time; staying alive was the key, he knew that. The game had been going on for only a minute, and Emilio''s score, with the few casualties in the woods, was already superior to 61% of the player base. He was given half the points for the indirect kills.


    The warlock scanned the area. He needed a better plan, one capable of massive destruction. To win, he had to be bold. Below, the fires were being extinguished, at least that would keep the land forces occupied for a couple of minutes. He turned his attention to the sea and the floating armada. They were ready to send large boulders his way, and some did. He flew down to the beach, at the base of the Comb a thousand feet below his castle. For the moment, the cliff and his Comb on the edge was still intact. He felt like he was defending this piece on the game board. The spotters on the ships saw him and began shouting different instructions. They were dropping the heads of the catapults, filling them with fire and grabbing their bows.


    He needed a single spell capable of dispatching the entire armada.


    He knew this scenario was designed to throw him off-balance. Over the years of playing with the interface, he knew one day he would be forced to resort to violence. At least this scenario wasn''t part of the 2072 competition. He had a plan, a horrible plan. The solution to the destruction of an infinite force was to use and exponentially growing force. If he could generate one, then two, then four creatures, each multiplying each time they encountered an enemy, the larger the force facing him, the more powerful his weapon would be.


    This armada was already dead. They just didn''t know it yet.


    He looked down between his feet. In the water under a rock hid a small red fish. Loric reached down and grabbed it. It wiggled between his fingers. He had only a few seconds before it died. With the other hand, he seized a broken, wet branch. The warlock moved a finger and cast magic. Red gas enrobed the fish. "May your appetite for wood grow to a frenzy." The fish morphed in shape and size. It now had long silver teeth. Loric touched the fish with the stick. It opened its mouth and began munching on the stick like a piranha eats flesh. It cut through the bark like butter.


    Twenty points were removed from the magic pool.


    "Once full, you will duplicate." Loric lost twenty more magic points. "Duplicate tenfold." Another seventeen points were removed. He was down to 102 points.


    Loric dropped the fish in the sea. Loric threw the wood as far as he could into the sea, halfway between the coast and the first ship of the armada. The launched itself after the branch like a missile. The creature swam to the branch, jumped on it and began to devour it. Seconds later, the fish exploded into ten smaller fish. Each swam in the water around the remaining portion of the branch. Before long, a hundred fish were digesting the last tip of the branch.


    What happened next was predictable. The fish saw in the distance the floating armada. The school roared through the water in the direction of the vessels. Before long they began to eat a hull. Hundreds became thousands and continued to multiply until the sea around the ships bubbled with the fish.


    As the army above regrouped, the ships began to sink one by one. The soldiers wearing metal plates were powerless to stay afloat. They sank and died without a drop of blood spilled.


    This time Loric was scoring points. They were adding up quickly. He soon reached 1,000,000 as the blue sea turned to a whitish foam from the multiplication of the fish. The points began to blink in gold on the screen. Loric''s charity was grabbing millions from other players'' with every additional kill. But the President did not care. In the virtual reality, he was a different man, a part of this world.


    Above, ugly little sprites with wings spotted him on the beach. They were calling reinforcements.He had seconds to prepare his next attack. With a hand, a shield went up.


    Loric had half his magic left. He had a moment of hesitation, what he needed to do next was horrible. Whatever he chose, there would be bloodshed. The warlock''s flight spell was still working, and he took off from the beach. He flew back up the cliff to the top of his castle and landed on the ceiling above his bedroom. The land army was ready for him, it was back, in fighting configuration. Large catapults were rolling up the grass area, and the forest was still fuming.


    "I see him!" yelled a watchman as Loric landed on the roof.


    Loric touched his skin. It turned to a semi-transparent deep blue crystal. He had 100 points of magic left; this would be enough for what he had in mind. "Marie, close the blinds, hide in a piece of furniture and let nothing in!" yelled the warlock, moving his arms in large circular motions.


    The incantation needed few words. A vortex of multicolored magic engulfed the warlock and then shot down into the sea, right in the white bubbling millions of wood-eating fish. "Fly. Breathe. I unleash you as plague. May your appetite for wood be replaced with a need of flesh and blood!" All the remaining magic points were released into this last spell, reaching as many fish as possible.


    What followed was horrible. The fish changed and morphed once more. Waves of carnivorous fish flew up the cliff, curved around it, and like a swarm of bees directed themselves at the different units of the army. Swarms flew and tried to enter Loric''s Comb. His skin was made of crystal, so the fish ignored him altogether.


    At that point, it became the problem of the Electoral platform in managing the destruction. The plague of death swarmed into the army. As the flesh was ripped from the bones of every living creature, points accumulated until the wheel of numbers was out of control. The carnage was everywhere.


    Electoral had said nothing about preserving this world.


    By the time things quieted down, there was nothing but death.


    ***


    Marilyn, still dressed as a maid, was locked away with a lamp in a pantry. Finally, the noise had stopped outside in the forest. She opened the door gently; the floor of the house was covered in dead winged fish. She looked at the screen. "Needless to say, Emilio won. The man''s resourcefulness, as always, is amazing. Join us for Round 26, when the last one hundred and twenty-seven participants return to the competition from Mars. In two days, we will run another free simulation, this time for fun. Emilio''s charity just won sixty billion credits."


    She grabbed a fish and held it close to her face. "Here is the tip for the next round, I will be focusing on empathy." As she looked at the fish, it came alive, opened its large mouth and reached for the face of Marilyn. As it almost touched her, everyone who was watching jumped from their seat. The simulation ended.


    Willie and the two journalists at the desk were stunned.


    "I guess he beats me," said Willie rhetorically.


    "How . . . ."


    "It''s . . . ."


    The CNN producer cut to a commercial.


    President Emilio Wamarez Sanchez was no ordinary player. Against all the odds he had won the 2062 election, played to his reelection in 2067 and was now ranked first in the overall rankings in this third presidential pursuit. Statistically, this level of superiority made no sense. The performance, as usual, helped his numerous detractors who believed he somehow cheats.

 Chapter 28

    Below The Surface of Mars


    When Sophie awoke, she was no longer in the ship or even its infirmary. The young prodigy was alone in what appeared to be a new detainment cell. The last thing she recalled, before the haze was her father¡¯s strange condition and the lady on the ship offering her a pouched drink. She slowly stood up on the side of the nice bed. Aside from the bars on the door, this looked rather comfortable. Judging by the weak but present gravity, she was still on Mars and had missed the landing. She jumped up and easily lifted from the ground. He father was not around.


    Her cell had a strange smell, a bit like opening the hood of an old car. This was definitely that Martian stench everyone kept talking about and it wasn¡¯t really that bad. She didn''t care where she was, but she was worried about her father and his new condition. Deep down she knew the firefly was in his head, the boy made of rocks. In Wonderland she had talked to it, and it seemed rather harmless. For her father''s sake, she truly hoped she was right. There was nothing she could do to help him right now, anyway. They were on Mars, and she was now sitting in jail.


    For the first time, her travel far from home became real. She was on a different planet. Nothing anyone said or did could have prepared her for this feeling. But in her heart, she felt the journey had only begun.


    She stretched and yawned.


    There was low gravity here, and after so long being weightless it felt good. The room had a small cot, one bed cover, and a small metal table. Her attention immediately drew to two things: the heavy bars of her cell door and a large colorful gift basket on the table. The thing was wrapped in transparent cellophane held by a pink bow. A card stuck out on a stick, it was covered by the Electoral logo. Sophie smiled, this warmed her heart. The gift contrasted with her cell. The wrapping was over three feet tall and inside were toys and candies of all sorts. As the only child on Mars, she claimed all rights by ten years.


    "Anybody here?" she said out loud.


    There was a camera in the hallway, looking into the cell. The little light below the lens turned green. Someone was looking. She waved. "Hi! Anybody here?"


    "One minute, madam!" yelled a voice in the distance. "Okay?"


    Sophie was still groggy. Normally, she would have been much more feisty, but she was hungry, there was gravity, and the basket was quite alluring. ''"To Sophie Lapierre - Welcome to Mars!" She opened the card.


    - Please accept this gift as a welcome to you and your father on Mars. We need to talk as soon as possible. Let me know when you are ready. Don''t worry about Laurent, I have it under control. I know these are your favorites! Love Marilyn. -


    This was thoughtful of the digital creature. Below the transparent wrap, she spotted packs of Rock & Pops, her favorite, the little candies that popped in the mouth.


    She pulled the pink bow open and wrapping unfolded like a blooming flower, and she grabbed all three of the little packages filled with the rock candy. There were different flavors: orange, cherry, and her favorite, grape. Unable to contain her joy, she showed restraint and only opened the orange, her least favorite.


    She ripped a corner of the package, poured the rocks in her hand so none would fly off in the low gravity, and in a quick gesture, shoved them into her mouth. Popping sounds filled her mouth and ears. The simple pleasures in life, of which this was definitely one, were often the most satisfying. She finished the package and grimaced at the camera. Her tongue was bright orange.


    "Hey! Why am I here?" she asked the camera.


    "Sorry, be right there!" replied a voice in the distance. "This won''t take long, five minutes."


    People rarely made her wait, much less in a prison. She went deeper into the basket. There was a white furry toy dog. He was wearing a name tag: Oscar. She grabbed and squeezed it. Each toy was great, a Westie. The next candy was edible bubbles, watermelon flavor. Marilyn was scoring major bonus points with Sophie. After a long boring interplanetary flight, children were easy to bribe and Sophie was no exception.


    The inside twist-cap was a stick and a ring. She dipped it in the solution, then blew into the membrane to create large bubbles. In the low gravity, the bubble stayed almost perfectly round. After they flew off, each quickly dried and became brittle like glass. When it touched a wall, shards of sugar fell to the floor. A child was supposed to ignore all rules, pick up the shards, and eat them; Sophie was a child right now.


    "Hey!" she yelled again after some time. Obviously, no one cared.


    She could see a portion of the hallway. Maybe the jailers liked clean hallways; too bad for them. She put her head between two bars and, with her arm on the other side, blew large bubbles into the hallway. They moved around and broke against the walls. Soon, there were watermelon shards everywhere. Sophie was having as much fun as she could in jail. She wondered what the adults would say. You can''t yell at a dog for destroying the grass where he''s chained, she reminded herself. "I''m here!" No one came.


    This was ridiculous. She decided to use every child''s ultimate weapon. "I need to pee!" That always worked. She waited. It didn''t work. In the distance were muffled sounds, commotion. Her jailers were watching television. She kept hearing the Electoral jingle.


    "Hey, I''m here." She was losing patience. Someone would pay for this. "I need to see my father!" In the distance, she heard cheerful noises.


    Then she remembered the card in the gift basket. "Electoral?" she said in the air, almost to herself. This time she heard several metallic clicking noises. A door in the distance unlocked. A small flat ground robot rolled through the hallway, bumping into some of the candy shards. The robot stopped in front of her door and released a long puff of smoke. A camera on the robot lit up portions of the rising smoke, and a figure of Marilyn Monroe appeared as a hologram. The image was rather crude.


    "This is all my fault, Sophie," said the hologram. "They are busy watching the Presidential Challenge."


    "Seriously? I am stuck here because they are watching TV?"


    "I am afraid so. In part, at least."


    "Why am I in jail?"


    "Now that . . . is very complicated, Earth politics."


    "Let me out."


    "The base commander will be here soon. My game ends in thirty minutes. The commander was given orders from Earth not to let you out unless you agree not to enter your father''s virtual-reality interface."


    "Unlikely."Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    "Agreed, your father needs you but I would love to get that done at my Center. I have much stronger technology. That is what I like about you, Soph, and I would agree with you. Your father''s neural activity remains unchanged from the flight. Whatever happened back in the plane has stabilized. I was not instructed to stay away from his reality, but I have decided not to return and help him without your approval. I figured this decision was up to you and I fear he now stands in a dark place. His mind may have been accelerated. If we take hours to connect, he may be in hell for days. We should act quickly and nothing quick stands from politics."


    Sophie liked the character in the image more and more. "Thank you for the candy."


    "My pleasure. I did not expect to need them so soon. I am sorry for your predicament."


    "What do you mean by ''so soon''?"


    "What happened to your father was rather unexpected. In fact, I am greatly worried by what is going on. I heard your firefly comment; that intrigues me even more. You have to know one thing . . . ."


    The girl crossed her arms, bracing herself for the worst.


    "You know Laurent''s brain produces only a fraction of a watt of energy on his own. That is not sufficient for the cortex to generate a dream, much less a reality. Nightmares, on the other hand, he can generate. When I found him, he was beyond depressed; he had spent what seemed like years in a dark place, literally shrouded in darkness. I generated energy and stimulated his cortex, giving him back some functions. I use one of the neuro-patches on his skull as a transceiver to help him."


    "Okay." Sophie was thinking. If Electoral was right, how long had her father been living in a nightmare, from his perspective? Her anxiety over awakening in jail redoubled.


    "I can tell you this," said the image. "When the firefly arrived, Laurent''s energy level multiplied tenfold. If I walk back in, I fear I''ll interfere with his new condition. I have a proposition to make."


    "I am Daddy''s legal guardian. I am sitting in a cell. Explain to me what is right about this. Once I''m out of here, we will talk." This girl sounded like a seasoned lawyer. The door cracked open.


    ¡°I can release you physically, I cannot legally. Getting you out of this jail by asking consent from humans will require some time. I have a good capacity to anticipate matters, and you will be here, as I see things, for most of the competition."


    "Foreal?" In 2072, kids liked to say that expression as a single word rather quickly.


    "Yes."


    "Why?"


    "What I love about you is that you have already figured out the answer to that question. I am not misled by your age, young lady."


    The girl had always hoped adults would stop treating her like a child. Ironic that she finally got respect from a hologram. Sophie knew her father was the biggest threat to the President''s re-election and that if she did not visit him regularly, he would not be able to focus and play. Keeping her here granted the President victory over the game.


    "Sanchez put me here?"


    "Someone in his team. I doubt he gave the order himself."


    "You doubt? Please don''t lie to me. You know everything." The image of Marilyn Monroe smiled in the dissipating smoke.


    "Emilio knows, but he did not order it. He could have prevented it, but did not."


    "Much better. Don''t ever lie to me."


    "I apologize."


    "No problem." Sophie was hard but did not hold a grudge.


    The hologram continued. "May I suggest a course of action beneficial to all parties?" Sophie ripped open the grape-flavor package of Rock & Pops. The software continued. "My Electoral Center is located quite a distance away, but once there you and Laurent would be in a different jurisdiction, out of reach of anyone here on Mars, Earth, or heaven above. If you and your father agree to be my guests at the Center, these interferences will go away. From my Center, you will have time to resolve this geopolitical matter peacefully, and we can take care of him. I have technology which could help."


    "Geopolitical," said the girl with rocks popping and showing a purple tongue. "Of all the words to use?" The hologram ignored the comment. "Are you really offering to break me out of jail, to break the law, and ask me to run away like a fugitive with my father? The best way for me to lose his custody is to prance around with him around this planet!"


    "You are a wonderful daughter. You imply I do not have the authority to release you."


    "Then do so!" She called Marilyn''s bluff.


    "I like you. You are correct, I can release you, but that requires using my executive control. I would rather avoid it. Does that make sense? You are unlawfully detained, that is true, isn''t it? Leaving a place when you are illegally detained is not illegal, right?"


    "Semantics," said the girl. "My father''s case helped define unlawful detention. The hospital was illegally detaining him, remember?"


    Sophie removed a shoe and pushed a button on its sole. She waited. The long silence was odd. The tall figure of Marilyn floating smiled awkwardly. "They are all watching the Presidential Challenge. The audience is very large," said the ghost-life figure.


    There was another long silence.


    "Someone will come. That journalist, the lady from the ship, is working right now interviewing players. She will come," insisted Sophie.


    There was another silence.


    "Are you telling me jailers and journalists will let a child get attacked rather than stop watching your show?"


    "That child safety button does not work on Mars. This place is not designed for you. But my game is very popular. Quite telling, isn''t it?" Electoral was proud of herself.


    "I am not escaping. The journalists will report this. I will be released."


    "I''m afraid not. Sophie, think about your father. I offer to invite the journalist, her name is Milly Wang, and Doctor Shin to participate in our little escapade. They will come with you and your father to my Center. That will be great television, I can read the headline: ''Sophie escapes unlawful detention and is now at Electoral Center with father; President''s efforts to remove competitor from game fail.''"


    "You confirm the President is behind this?"


    "Oh no, it is much more complicated than that. I am worried about Laurent. I do have a couple of new tools that will help you and your father. If you come to my home, Laurent stays the focal point of this story. Right now he is not. Trust me, if you walk out of this cell without my help, you will be walking out into another trap," said Marilyn.


    "Whose trap? Yours or theirs?" Sophie sighed. "I don''t know why, but I''ll trust you." The girl waived the stuffed dog. "There are no grounds for my detention," she convinced herself while looking at the candy. "What they are doing is wrong." She knew the law.


    "Georges, my progenitor, is at the Center. He needs the human contact. He has been alone for some time, and my analysis shows close proximity with Milly has a 9% chance for him to establish a connection." After a short pause, Marilyn finally said, "I worry for Georges like you worry for Laurent. Can you understand that?" Sophie felt the computer''s concern was genuine. Now, there was a legitimate reason to go along with Electoral''s idea. She knew Electoral''s father lived there like a hermit. Sophie had to make a quick decision.


    "Nothing dangerous, okay? My father''s safety comes first. Promise me this will be best for him."


    "I do not understand his current condition, so it''s hard to confirm anything. That fact excluded, yes, I believe this excursion will be better for him."


    "My stuff?"


    "Taken care of, a man named Gerard is helping."


    "Will we be free to leave and return here if we choose to?"


    "You have my word. I remind you, I am not the one restraining you against your will."


    Sophie extended both arms and grabbed the basket. "Let''s go."


    "You cannot . . . ." Electoral was about to ask Sophie not to bring the basket but immediately realized that after giving a 12-year-old the gift, taking it back was heartless.


    "I said, let''s go!" Sophie was not asking permission. That basket was hers. The basket would come along. "Great gift, thanks!" That was all the computer needed to hear.


    The jail door opened on command with a loud click. "Sophie, grab the earplug on the little robot, slide it in your ear, and please do as I say. We don''t have far to go. The elevator is a couple of doors to the right." The little floor robot stopped projecting, and the image of the blonde disappeared. Sophie put in the earpiece and followed the simple instructions in her ear. The artificial intelligence anticipated the reactions of the people guarding her flawlessly. She was powerful.


    As Sophie passed the doors, everyone was deeply immersed in the game. They easily reached the elevator, "What floor?"


    "No need." The elevator door opened. Marilyn was controlling it. The box began to rise to the top floor. It then kept going up and up. The moment they passed the red surface, Sophie was mesmerized. The view was surreal. They were climbing up a big mountain overlooking an endless desert. The lighting made it feel like she was wearing red sunglasses.


    "We are going to my Catapult," Marilyn proudly announced.


    ¡°What catapult?¡±


    ¡°Precisely,¡± whispered the proud artificial intelligence.


    If Marilyn was nervous, she hid that fact to perfection. Mars had a strange effect on Sophie. She had trouble keeping herself focused. Her mind wanted to wander. Something was off. Her mind was different here.


    She looked up at the horizon, part of a dream seemed to materialize, parts of Wonderland. She focused and the images vanished.


    ¡°Something wrong?¡± asked Marilyn.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Marilyn knew the girl was lying.

 Chapter 29

    LO, one of Earth''s most popular young singers and Sophie''s personal crush watched the Presidential Challenge from his spacious condo on the top floor of a Hong Kong skyscraper. He was, like everyone else, loosing to Emilio - but what an honor. The pop singer was surrounded by twenty of his closest friends, each connected in one way or another to the game. Cameras also floated around. Everyone sat silently, watching the President destroy the monsters.


    In LO''s contact lenses and his earbuds, the simulation faded. It was replaced by the image of Marilyn Monroe sitting in a vast empty room on a large white egg-shaped chair. Her hair, like LO''s, was remarkably stylish, shot-through with spikes of color. Behind her, a classical string orchestra materialized; the musicians were warming up.


    "LO, I am sorry to interrupt," began the artificial intelligence.


    Even with a gradual phase out from the fantasy world, the change was difficult. "Marilyn? Yes?" Replied the young teenager in Cantonese. Marilyn spoke all languages.


    "I have an urgent favor to ask."


    The singer, even with his fame had never spoken to the creature directly much less been asked for a favor. Marilyn had never depended on anyone and made a point of it. He stood up out of respect.


    "What is it?" asked the star.


    "I need you and your band to play a song for me. The song you call ''Heart Shaped Wreckage.'' It is for a friend."


    "A live performance?"This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "Yes." In the singer''s glasses, the sky of the digital reality next to Marilyn was replaced by black ledgers. It was clear what was going on. Marilyn was initiating a transfer of an indecent sum of money into his bank accounts. In two seconds, she had doubled the man''s fortune.


    "I do not need money.¡±


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Who is it for, Sophie?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Keep your money, love this girl.¡±


    Marilyn¡¯s reaction was surprising. Emotions created up on her and hiding possible tears she turned her head. This was touching.


    ¡°When?"


    "In about 823 seconds, plus or minus 15." The computer knew she had been too precise, "Fifteen minutes. The Challenge will not be over by then," she corrected herself. LO was surprised. Marilyn was not one to be caught off balance this way. She always knew months in advance what was about to transpire. He had to make a quick decision, and he did. Saying no to the digital goddess was not an option.


    "Okay." He clapped his hands and yelled . "Everybody, we are gearing up, we are playing right here in a couple minutes. Broken Pieces, let''s move!" Everyone woke up from the digital haze. The team came alive. They removed the headsets and set to work. Marilyn may rule the digital realm.


    ¡°You want the female voice too?¡± His song was often sang as a duet.


    ¡°No, she favors you.¡± She added, ¡°sing to her. Draw emotions from her, I need that right now.¡±


    The digital woman was focused, something important was about to happen. Through his contacts, the view of the orchestra behind the digital creature faded away. It was replaced a large wall covered by millions of red colored numbers ranging from zero to nine.They all moved quickly unable to settle. The only digits fixed were on the upper corner and in green. They began by 3.14159...


    Marilyn¡¯s chair vanished and she stood. Looking at the wall of numbers she wiped a tear and smiled. The number of green didgits, around twenty thousands began to shrink.


    "It is starting," she uttered to herself in her strange world. She spoke again, but this time her voice changed. Her smile was replaced with a cringe of fear.


    "The Sixth Attraction has begun." She flew a kiss in the air with both hands. "It has started."

 Chapter 30

    The main lobby of the majestic Holiday Inn Mars was buzzing with activity. The entire staff was glued to a display of some variety. Some watched on advanced traditional displays, others wore a thick pair of Orbison glasses or Screenlenzs contacts as they either watched or played in the Presidential Challenge. Those who played were standing up and twitching like zombies.


    "Ms. Wong," heard the CNN journalist in her earpiece; this was not the voice of her producer. The female voice was powerful and seductive. Milly was one of the only people in the hotel working as others played. Her fly-cameras were buzzing around, but nothing being recorded was worth sending down to Earth through the expensive feed. The journalist recognized Electoral''s voice. She was two minutes away from her next live segment. "Do you want the story of your life?" asked Marilyn.


    The journalist needed no more. "Of course," she replied without hesitation. Marilyn wasn''t one to underperform on promised expectations.


    "Sophie is in the cells as a prisoner at the moment. She and her father have just accepted my personal invitation to visit and stay at my Center here on Mars for the rest of the competition. For multiple reasons, which some your audience will soon uncover, I am extending you an invitation as well. I wish you to document the visit. Otherwise, political forces will turn Sophie''s escapade into a kidnapping, or worse will lobby to disqualify her father. The documentation of our little escapade will be more convincing if you are there as an impartial referee. In essence, all you have to do is act as a journalist. Time is short. To sweeten the deal from your perspective, and since I know you are under contract and aren''t possessed of all freedoms, I agree to give you the only thing worth the rupture of any contract: the first and only one-on-one interview with my creator, Georges, once you settle at the Center. During this trip, you are free to record all you want, in fact, I insist you do. I only ask that you wait until we are at the Center today to start broadcasting, past my door."


    The offer was beyond generous. In fact, letting Sophie leave the hotel without Milly when she had her ticket punched to tag along would have been a greater issue for her producers. Without hesitation, Milly agreed.


    "Can I just give you one friendly warning, to ignore at your own risk?"


    "Of course."


    "Sophie Lapierre must never be challenged. Never interfere with anything she desires or does. Do not treat her as a young girl, treat her as an explosive ready to blow."


    "Why would I do that? I''m a journalist, remember?"


    "I know, but this is a word of caution for our collective benefit, not hers or yours. Much greater matters are in play as you will uncover first hand." Milly was surprised by the insistence. There was no time to reflect, Marilyn continued, "Please proceed to the monorail. I will direct it up to the Catapult; it is located well above the Glass Slipper on the other side of the Mons."


    "There is nothing up there," said the journalist. She realized the stupidity of her statement the second it came out. She was addressing Marilyn Monroe, the digital creature who had built a full personal Center and a hotel on Mars, singlehandedly, in a few short years. God only knew what Electoral also had in plan for the competition. Milly was ecstatic; a school girl. What could this Catapult be? The name suggested something exceptional. Following the instructions was sure to get her this year''s Pulitzer. In the back of the large room, the service elevator doors opened. In complete anonymity, she let the flying cameras return to their docking station on her belt. Once on the way up, she released both cameras. The view of Mars from the elevator was exceptional.


    "Milly, we are ready for broadcast here, where are you?" said the producer in her earpiece. The man was in the Lobby of the hotel now a mile below.


    "Bob, sorry. I have a code red emergency. All positive, great footage. Will get back to you as soon as I can." She pushed a button and cut the feed.


    "You know that button on your pad doesn''t really cut the feed down to the studio?" said the artificial intelligence.


    "I figured. They have me on a tight leash. Comes with the salary." The journalist was no idiot.


    "Since that is a violation of the law, I can legally alter the software to empower the button to work. There, it''s done."Marilyn''s power over all electronic technology was absolute.


    "What is the Catapult? I''ve never heard of it," she demanded on her way up.


    "A surprise. Think Cinderella-style carriage to transport the last thirty-two players who qualify for the five final rounds to my Center. It is a capsule pod that is slid down the mountain which rockets in a perfect trajectory to my Center. Using it cuts the travel time to only fourteen minutes, this allows the players to sleep in this hotel after each game and not be a bother to my father."


    "You built it in complete secrecy? It''s above the hotel and even the Slipper, how did you do that?" The view was now breathtaking as the monorail accelerated way beyond its design maximum speed. "How is that possible?"


    "You and your viewers will not believe me."


    "Try me." Milly waited for the answer, it never came. As a journalist, she repeated. "Seriously, how do you build anything here, much less in secrecy?"


    "It," the computer selected her words carefully, "wasn''t there an hour ago. You will see my nano-technology at the Center." The answer shocked the journalist. That would explain it, of course. "You''ll like it, I''m rather proud of the architecture. Very slick."


    "A slide down this mountain? You just built it?"


    "The more accurate verb would be ''assembled.''"


    "Can I film?"


    "I guess. I am not one to restrain free speech, but I would suggest you talk with your corporate office to see if they prefer the rating boost associated with its official presentation ahead of Round 26. I was planning a full hour release video. This might damage your ratings. Of course, Sophie will provide her opinions, I suggest you heed them."


    The ride up was magical. She passed the Glass Slipper docking area and the monorail continued up for minutes. The view kept improving. When Milly arrived at the last docking area, the doors opened. On a stretcher was the deformed body of Laurent Lapierre. Next to him was the doctor from the Airbus, Susie Shin. The two ladies awkwardly smiled at each other. The doctor was hired to care for Laurent, wherever he would be. Behind them was a small dark access door. The room was darker than it needed to be. The screen on the wall next to the rounded door flashed with all sorts of boarding instructions. Marilyn''s face appeared on it.


    "Doctor, meet Ms. Milly Wong, journalist at CNN." Both ladies smiled at one another.


    "Last time I saw her was in the Airbus."


    "Yes," acknowledged Susie. The pod door hissed open. Old light bulbs lit a cramped capsule beyond the door. Ahead, there was no external view; the pod was in the shape of a long closed tube. It resembled some type of underground mining equipment. This was a cramped room capable of sitting, at most, eight.


    "Doctor," said the host, "can you please settle Laurent in? It should be simpler than it looks. Ms. Wong, you may take the pilot seat."


    "I can''t drive this thing," said the journalist.


    "Don''t worry, I will drive, but the view will be better. Sophie will insist on taking the other pilot seat, the left seat next to her father." Marilyn guided the threesome using the lighting as best as she could. The walls were made of a strange material. As the passengers were preparing themselves, the back access door opened, and a security officer walked in. He was calm and polite.


    "What is this place? May I ask what you guys think you are doing?" He was surprisingly civil in the strange context. The man was plainly skilled at collecting information. There was no need for force here.


    Electoral had let the man up. "Major, this is my pod, my Catapult, and my guests. They are now going to my Center." The computer''s emphasis on her ownership of things was nothing short of intimidation.


    "Upon whose order?"


    "Not that any order is necessary, but they are here upon my request and invitation."


    "What is this place?" The trio was securing themselves to the seats. The low gravity of Mars helped.


    "I just built it. As for authority, please refer to Martian code, section 354.121. Look it up." Accessing codes and regulations was not an easy thing.


    "This is Mr. Lapierre, correct?"


    "Yes, and his guardian Sophie is on her way up right now."


    "That is not possible, she is in . . . detention," he said, almost to himself. "No one is taking off before I have a chance to verify all of this and get approval."


    "Of course, Major. Let me help you and bring up on this screen the portion of the code I just quoted. It should make things very clear for you. You will not delay this launch. I suggest you move quickly."


    The code appeared on the screen. It read:


    In exchange for her scientific, financial, and social contribution in association with the development of Mars, Electoral and up to one hundred of her guests are granted an executive privilege of diplomatic immunity while on Mars from any law, rule, or regulation. Electoral/Marilyn and her guests cannot be detained or prosecuted for any crime.


    The man was shocked. He knew the law but did not know about this provision. "Really? I have never seen this."


    "The section is not widely publicized. It is on a need-to-know basis. You now need to know it. I don''t want to pull rank here Major, but I own this hotel, I am the one who contracted with your security firm and your government. I also own your employer, if that helps. I am technically your boss," replied Electoral. The man was outgunned on every front. She was making solid arguments.


    "I must verify it," said the security officer.


    "As long as you do not interfere with our departure, verify all you want. I suggest you use your phone," said Marilyn. The man drew his waist stunner. "Major, I am doubtful you would ever use this weapon against either Sophie or Laurent. I remind you that a doctor and a journalist are present. You are now truly playing with fire. No one is armed or has the strength to pose a threat to you." The guard left the stunner in the holster.


    The door behind the man opened. The young Sophie had arrived next to her stood Gerard, the cook. Gerard was holding a small weapon and shot a stun gun. The security officer fell to the ground. Gerard pulled the body of the officer back in the monorail and made his way with him down after saluting everyone. ¡°I am going to get in trouble for this,¡± he grumbled to himself.


    "What was that all about?" asked Sophie.


    The computer on the screen spoke to herself. "Time is too short for bureaucracy. I have opened the Nexus, the Dot is being powered up."


    Sophie did not care about the Nexus; whatever that was. She held the large basket of candy. She immediately walked into the pod and touched her father''s body. The doctor was taking good care of him. She smiled at the journalist. "I was in jail!" she said to the adults in the room.


    "You were, really?" questioned the two ladies.


    "Yes. I beeped the alarm, and no one came."


    "What alarm?"


    "The shoe."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "Oh . . . poor, sweet girl, I doubt the child safety alert works on Mars," Susie replied as she tried to digest what Sophie had just told them.


    Milly, from the pilot seat, turned her chair around. "Wow, we''re going to the Electoral Center." The pod was elongated in its middle portion like a pain medication capsule. Sophie''s trip had so far been less than exceptional. First, her father had become sick, then the Airbus almost blew up, later she was jailed for no particular reason, and now they were cramped inside of a small pod. The girl''s enthusiasm for the trip, which had been almost nonexistent to begin with, was further dampened by these stupid events.


    "Why were you in jail? That''s crazy," asked Susie.


    "I know, right? Marilyn gave me those." She grabbed the basket and placed it in one of the two empty seats. "We are fugitives!" she joked.


    "We must launch soon, buckle in." The computer character was trying to speed things up and not having great success at it.


    "Why are we in a rush?" asked the youngest passenger.


    "I have a surprise for you. Someone is warming up from a studio, and it would be rude to make him wait. Also, Laurent''s mind operates at a different speed. Minutes for us can turn out to be days for him. Let''s not have him wait unless we really need to."


    "Another surprise?" Sophie grabbed the little stuffed toy and waved it to the camera. "You plan to beat this?"


    "I also have a little theory to test, something important I need and that window is about to close."


    The door of the small pod slid shut and locked behind the strange quartet. Sophie got up and after securing her toy in the seat next to her father, belted into the second front seat next to Milly. "I like amusement rides, I always sit in the front of Roller Coasters. This is a ride, right? I want to see this!" This was no Glass Slipper, but it was still designed to allow passengers to feel the full Mars experience.


    The front cockpit had windows looking ahead into a dark tube with lights every hundred meters. The Rococo decoration was a stark contrast with the hotel lobby. Every chair was padded with white leather and large studded buttons. All the displays were small, surrounded by colorful square keys. Sophie had seen something similar in an old space opera show. It was named Cosmos 1999. Lights were blinking in rhythm. Marilyn appeared on every screen, the blonde was wearing an old military outfit. Her hair was tucked into a cute pilot hat.


    "Welcome. You are going to love the first elliptical bounce. I designed the Catapult with Sophie in mind. Are we all tucked in?"


    "I guess," said the journalist.


    "Doctor, can you tighten Laurent''s blue strap by one notch?"


    "Of course," replied Dr. Shin as she jumped to it. Sophie grinned. She knew Marilyn and Dr. Shin both cared deeply about her father and would help her care for him. "Done." Sophie looked behind herself; the doctor had taken the time to wrap the scarf around Sophie''s father''s forehead, she kissed his strange head and whispered something to him.


    Before the launch, the journalist asked, "Is the Presidential Challenge over?"


    "Yes. It played faster than anticipated. I am letting CNN fill in some airtime with great footage of some cute soccer player. I will be broadcasting Emilio''s performance the moment I launch this pod to avoid detection. That should keep the media busy for the next hour as get you guys up to the Center."


    "Did Emilio score well?" asked the journalist.


    "Of course," answered the artificial intelligence.


    "What do you mean? Did he win?"


    "Yes."


    "How is that even statistically possible, you have billions of people playing, no?"


    "Improbable and impossible are two different things. But your point is well taken. Emilio¡¯s mind is unique in your species, we will discuss this later. As part of the election system, I must be impartial when designing each round. Since the challenge was not part of the competition, I gave myself more flexibility in programming the simulation. To be honest, I programmed it with a single goal in mind: give the victory to anyone except President Sanchez. Yet, somehow, he won again. I even factored in Emilio''s unique mind. Statistically, he was going to get schooled." Marilyn looked Sophie''s way, "His victory is impossible unless you, little girl, are somehow partly to blame at the moment."


    "Me?"


    "Yes, you," the artificial intelligence itched to continue the discussion, but she only added, "We''ll talk about this once you are safely at my Center. Time is short."


    "Do you think he cheats?" asked Sophie.


    "No. Other forces are at play here. Unless your father manages to win the 2072 simulation and show the game is not rigged, I fear this will be the last election. But frankly, no one will soon care about my game, something much more important is on the horizon." Marilyn was obviously holding part of the story to herself. She changed the topic. "Sophie, I have a favor to ask of you."


    "A favor?"


    "Yes, an experiment of sorts. It is very simple. As the pod travels up and then returns down to my Center, I would like to play some music, that is all."


    Sophie was surprised by the request. She did not care. "Whatever."


    "Sophie, the music may make you feel some . . . emotions, is that okay? I do not want to startle you with it. The music will play only for a couple of minutes. If you want it to stop, simply say so." Sophie was unclear what that meant. She would soon find out. She waived the request off."Sit tight everyone, I will open the clamps."


    The metal clamps released the pod allowing it to slide using hundreds of rollers on its outside surface. Air pressure above the pod provided an additional push. They were sliding down on the slope of Tharsis Mons in a subway-like tube. Lights flashed faster and faster as they accelerated. They were heading down a long slide without air to slow them.


    Marilyn''s voice came on the speakers. "Launch velocity needed is 2,230 km/h. Chute outlet angle confirmed, direction 123.657 degrees North." The speed continued to increase. This was exciting to the young guardian. "Coming out of the tube in sixty seconds," she warned. The ship was rattling slightly on all sides. The girl was smiling widely.


    "Thirty seconds." The pod was seconds away from breaking into the atmosphere from its ground rail. On Earth, LO and his band were also ready to start the music.


    "Ten . . . nine . . . ."


    Then the tube in the ground curved slowly upward, like a candy cane, and the pod slowly began its way upward through the bend. As it did, some gravity returned. That was to be expected as part of any great amusement ride, figured Sophie.


    "Two . . . one . . . ."


    Then there was light ahead. They raced out of the tube, and gravity was replaced with weightlessness. Eyes needed time to distinguish the details. They were a giant black artillery shell shot from a massive cannon, the pod blasted into the Mars sky. There was, at first, only silence. The group was shot north-north-west along an elliptical trajectory from an opening only hundreds of feet away from the ground. Sophie''s jaw dropped. This was majestic. There was too much to take in at once. To their rear, the hotel was quickly shrinking.


    Then, before the angle could adjust, soft, beautiful music began; notes resonating against the red backdrop of the planet. The multiple screens in the pod changed. In each Sophie could see LO, the signer she adored so much. The man was playing in his own home, live, it was smashing and shown in tansparency over the beautiful new world. She knew he was there. The first notes struck her deeply, affecting her more strongly than she ever imagined.


    "You are live on Mars," said Marilyn to the signer warming up on his stage. The boy and his band were ready; they began to play seriously as the ship zoomed up to the high atmosphere of the planet. The singer saw Sophie and was talking directly to her. Even light seconds away, there was no communication delay. The poor girl was looking at him superimposed over the orbiting moon. The singer felt strange and powerful energy forming around them. Deep inside, he felt like he was there to help her.


    LO began to sign.


    He knew he would give the performance of his life.


    The music formed a bridge between the planets. Normally nothing could move faster than the speed of light, and there were light-minutes between the two orbs. But the connection was somehow live. Sophie''s heart was warming as he sang; it was too much. The pod was rising in the sky and the view was even improving. Science was being tested in another meaningful way.


    The song increased in intensity. In her own private digital world, Marilyn was standing up in front of her wall of numbers. She was holding an orchestra conductor''s baton and enjoying every moment. She was waving it in unison with the boy''s beat.


    "Fuckers," Marilyn whispered to herself on the screen. "Let''s see if you can hold it tied down." Around her there was a vapor of colorful energy.


    Everyone in the capsule felt there was invisible energy emanating from the girl. Electoral sent pulses of energy out to the entire surface of Mars. Much like sound can travel in water, the Center was broadcasting in the low-gravity atmosphere. The lack of air would not prevent Marilyn from playing music. On the ground, invisible to the passengers, some rocks began to resonate. Sound travels differently in water, air, or the faint martian atmosphere. But correcting the movement of sound waves, Electoral used the entire planet as a base for amplification of the waves. The sand below hurt. She wasn''t broadcasting on Mars, she was using Mars as a giant speaker and it amplified up to the capsule. The word, the sound, grew in breadth and depth as the boy sang to Sophie.


    Everyone in the capsule was swallowed whole by emotions. Tears began to pearl on the corner of each eye.


    As is the case with most favorite songs, they penetrated below Sophie''s most private protections. They opened her heart and made her distill her thoughts in ways she had never previously done. Electoral was closely monitoring her wall of numbers in her world as she watched the girl. LO saw Sophie on the screen in front of him. Her eyes were red with emotion. The song was too much for her. Inside the pod, she squeezed the white plush toy.


    "Look!" said the doctor, unable to measure her words as the pod rose beyond ten miles above the ground. The journalist was speechless barely able to react. They were floating in a torrent of invisible energy.


    LO continued to play. Something strange was taking place, but that was above his pay scale.


    In a low-gravity environment, the best way to travel large distances rather quickly was sheer force. A cannon launch. They were now moving horizontally at 975 kilometers per hour and vertically at only several miles per hour. The music outside was so strong that the entire pod shook. As they translated across the ground, the pod took a minute to reach its apex and began its descent.


    With the exception of the speakers needed by those listening to the Presidential Challenge, every speaker on Mars switched to a recorded version of Sophie''s favorite song by LO. Each human had one emotional trigger. For Sophie, it was music -- this song by this man. Few songs made her more emotional than a musical version of "Heart Shaped Wreckage." The song was about two children falling in love.


    As he finished the song, Sophie remained fixated on the image of LO. She was in a transe. She took the time to look around her at the majestic view. She had held the tears mostly in. She was holding, but her defenses were weakening a hard site for a young lady having lived her father¡¯s misery. The crater was in the distance. Her father was next to her. "Again!" ordered Marilyn. The band resumed the same song. LO knew the girl needed a break. The poor child was fighting very hard not to openly weep. Sophie turned and looked at her poor father, images of her mother flooding through her mind.


    "Calm down," said the voice of her deceased mother''s in her head. "Remain calm please," it begged. Sophie alone heard Susan, she ignored her.


    The voice was too much, her soft spot. She missed her mom so much. Every day she wished she was there. Sophie looked away from the singer and saw the landscape. There was too much to see, she dropped Oscar, the stuffed dog it began to float. The sheer magnitude of where she was hit her like a brick. Slits all around the pod created windows that allowed her to see the entire landscape. In the distance stood three massive mountains. They were on a trajectory to graze the farthest mountain. On the right, in the distance, was some type of long hole in the red ground, a scar. In the black sky she saw two moons, the first deformed and the second in a crescent. She was scared. She was a child in an adult world. Others had warned her. She had to keep it together and not cry.


    In a fraction of a second, the journalist and Electoral turned their attention to Sophie. She was tearing up, which was causing all three women to choke. Something else was in play, there was power. Sophie looked around. She was very high, too high for her comfort. The view changed slowly as the pod began to descend. There was not a soul to speak or interfere with the power of the song.


    LO was electrifying in his performance.


    Sophie finally let herself cry. There was an invisible blast of energy.


    The Multiverse hurt.


    Outside, in the atmosphere of Mars, something was happening. The martian sky was shimmering, vibrating. Energy was pouring away from Sophie and to the young girl. It was too much, too much, too much. Up, high, colors began. They danced but the young girl was crying.


    "Enough!" yelled Sophie, putting her hands over her ears to block the music. At the same moment, Electoral stopped the broadcast. The shimmering outside around the craft was compressed and absorbed by the dark spike of the Electoral Center. The tower sucked all the energy. The trio saw a pulse of bright light emitted from the spike like a flash. It punched upwards to the Milky Way, tearing the Mars sky. This was a rip between worlds, it was going somewhere.


    There was no sound.


    "What happened?" asked the journalist. She stood feet away from Sophie eyes in tears and felt like someone had just ripped the heart out of the girl. The journalist felt emotionally drained, she refrained from hugging her. She was inundated with sorrow.


    "I apologize, Sophie," said Marilyn trying to limit what was sure to come next.


    The girl was disoriented, floating in an altered state of mind.


    "How is daddy?" she barely stumbled out. The doctor and Susie turned their attention to Laurent. Sophie was wiping away her tears with her sleeve. "How is he?"


    "Perfect," reassured the doctor.


    The voice in Sophie''s mind returned. "I am so proud of you!" offered Susan Lapierre.


    She ignored the voice, thinking, "Not now!"


    The beauty of this world from the pod was astonishing.


    The pod sailed miles in the air and slowed down to the top of the parabolic trajectory as it began to tilt downward. The gravity in the pod disappeared. To the small group, the large mountains and the strange landscape were all that mattered. One of the mountains was getting close; they could now distinguish rocks on its surface.


    The descent was not as fast as the climb up. The pod''s speed was now only about fifty kilometers per hour. Around the spike, several miles distant, in all directions was a large wall forming a perfect circle. It was hundreds of feet tall and the area inside the wall around the spike was filled with what appeared to be soft black sand.


    "Sophie, take a look at this," said Electoral proud of herself.


    As the pod got closer to the spike, it passed above the outer protective wall. The sea of sand and rocks around it came alive like water. Waves rose up to catch the pod. It landed in a cloud of smoke that slowed it to a halt.


    ***


    LO had no clue what had just happened. He saw Sophie for a moment in his lenses. He knew her. His song did not seem to have helped her. She was in trouble, and he wanted to help her.


    The face of Marilyn returned to the screens in his condo. "Thank you."


    "What was that?" asked LO.


    "It is complicated."


    "Try me," said the singer.


    "My test was conclusive. I will need you to come to Mars as soon as possible," said Marilyn.


    "What are you talking about?"


    "We all know music has a powerful effect on humans. It multiplies emotions. In turn, those emotions multiply a person''s state of mind. Sophie is unique in many ways, she is the Attractor. To do what she must, to save this world, she will need you there. You need to be on Mars in person for what comes next. I am willing to pay."


    LO had only one image in mind, the scared little girl. He knew he needed to help.


    "Sounds fun.¡±

 Chapter 31

    The Netherworlds


    As the Catapult landed in Marilyn¡¯s technical moat, important matters brewed elsewhere. On each of the 4,363 worlds connected to the Nexus, a nervous Ambassador awaited in silence, portal open. The faintest vibration, noise, sent back could mean death for the Ambassador¡¯s world. For as long as anyone could remember, millions of years on Earth, the original world who bound the first string to the Nexus was scheduled to appear. This primary world, called simply The Lower, controlled the Nexus and it¡¯s heart, The Dot.


    Something of critical importance forced the Ancients from the first world to end millions of years of reclusion. Many Ambassadors suggested The Lower, the world of these Ancient creatures, was no longer relevant in the Multiverse or yet, had vanished. They were a minute from being proven spectacularly wrong.


    No one could remember when these powerful creatures were last present on the Nexus or why they left. They had, for eons, avoided their own creation. Written legends teach how the Ancients, born in a deep world gave birth to the verbal communication bridge uniting worlds. They named it the Nexus from its nature as a place where lines are drawn between worlds. The Netherworlds is a place under all worlds where in theory it exists.


    By law, the bridge had to remain the only channel between worlds in the Multiverse to avoid secrecy or damage to the Multiverse herself. Opening a different direct pathway, between adjacent realities condemned a world to nothing less than extinction. The Nexus exists because the Multiverse is genuinely impermeable to matter or waves, nothing physical can translate between the layers. There is no door, bridge, or even travel. Only energy can permeate between the invisible barriers separating worlds the same way sound or heat can permeate between adjacent hotel rooms. The reason is simple, each world, each layer of the Multiverse is built on different fundamental laws of physics. In each place, the fabric of life itself differs. The nature of the parts of the Multiverse mirrors how vinegar and oil float in a heated lava lamp or a marbled cake.


    Old tales, legends, describe how the god-like creatures living in the Lower, frustrated by the inability to physically travel between worlds left them doing the next best thing, bully everyone else into submission. But even that went so far and after hundreds of millions of years, they grew tired and more reclusive.


    At first there were two worlds connected to the Nexus, then three. One by one, as each world forming the Multiverse reach a level of technology sufficient to hurt neighbors, it becomes relevant. The Ancients wait patiently and by twisting the mere fabric of space, they can create an energetic points used to talk to a new world. Had Earth became relevant, it would have seen a portal blink and with simple Morse-like code would have become part of the Nexus.


    The creatures of the Lower force open a link in the Nexus and give this new world a seat at this exclusive table in exchange to adherence to a strict code of conduct. Joining the Nexus comes with the valuable encyclopedic lore of everything that has ever transpired over the bridge. The priceless historical lore includes a transcript of each discussion ever held and a crash course in physics.


    Since each world is built on a unique set of laws of physics, but a common mathematical truth, worlds and realities tend to vary wildly. The Nexus in a first world may look like a mirror, in the next the heart of a Nova. Mathematicians call these anchors between worlds singularities, or points tied to some type of infinite property of space. A singularity to a scientist is difficult to explain, but to ordinary people is much simpler. At the heart of every tornado is a point of quietness. Every funnel, to exist, needs a singularity where wind speed is zero. No vortex can exist by its own nature without its singularity. A head of hair has a rosace, a point where the skull is visible. The same is true for everything in life.


    The Nexus is no highway built of stone. To visualize the fragile network, one should picture dangling strings in the air tied between balconies over a dirty New York alley. Strings blowing on a windy day on which laundry is tied. The Nexus is a fragile network of non-centralized links that crosses the Netherworlds of the Multiverse.


    More importantly, the Ancients tied ropes from a central singularly from their world called simply the Dot, a powerful singularity of unequal power.


    As one should expect, the use of the Nexus is highly regulated. Each world names a creature called the Ambassador. The prestigious title is passed down for centuries. In most layers, the title of Ambassador is held by the most influential life form. Information over the Nexus is exchanged at a very slow pace; each world has equal rights to listen and speak, so delays are important in the long chain of communication. Words often must travel hundreds of branches before they are heard by all. In the best scenario, a faint voice is transmitted. Most often, Ambassadors must decode a series of beeps and silences to reconstruct a text.


    Today, the powerful creatures of the Lower are scheduled to attend. Cynics believe for them, voice and not simple beeps will conveniently be available. The ¡°Gods¡± from the Lower are the feared enforcers of the law of the Multiverse, and have in the past extinguished entire worlds in violation of their rules. No one alive, in any of the 4,362 worlds, has ever spoken or even heard the voice of a creature from the Lower.


    ***


    Today''s session opened at the request of the Ambassador from a small quantum world on the edge of the border surrounding the Multiverse, one called the Purple. In it lives the Metils, a belligerent race of rock-shaped quantum constructions. Because the rules of the Nexus require worlds to select a polite and respectful Ambassador, and since everyone from the Purple is rude, the creature talking is a simple powerless mouthpiece.


    Today, the Nexus will open as wide as it can. The subject given by the Metil Ambassador is of grave concern to every world: The Cold Lives.


    To anyone with even a basic understanding of universal dynamic, the Cold is the greatest potential problem to all. The Cold is a bordering world known to every living organism in the Multiverse. This place, like most city sewer systems, remains one of the greatest mysteries. It is named so because cooling energy leaves other worlds, slows and vanishes, is is imagined to enter The Cold. Everyone believes this lost place is dark, cold, and lifeless. Nothing can exist in The Cold but death at such low energy levels.


    Other folk stories suggest everything borders the Cold where dead souls are believed to travel before they resurface elsewhere. The Cold is, plainly said, the garbage dumpster of the Multiverse.


    ***


    The Nexus powered up slowly as millions of joules ripped the singularities open one by one. The doorways began to hum. In places the gates resonated or shone with color. In every world, there was purring, that was the sound of the natural equilibrium of the Nexus. The Multiverse as people communicated sustained wounds. The low humming noise was called the great silence if anyone cared. After a long wait, the communication bridge finally began to send sound. What came next would be the most important conversation ever to be broadcasted over the Nexus.


    ***


    "Salutations," spoke the very nervous Metil Ambassador from the Purple.


    "Salutations," replied the Moderator from the Nexus. Eons ago, the Ancients delegated to one world the role of Moderator. The Creatures knew enough and would keep pleasantries to a minimum.


    The creature from the Purple resumed, "Life and intelligence exist in the Cold, it destroys our world. We are dying." There were murmurs in the other worlds, but they quickly these fell silent.


    "Impossible," replied the Moderator trying to remain stoic. There was no need to waste time to identify who spoke over the Nexus.


    Everyone knew the place called simply the Cold. The Metil Ambassador continued, "We have direct evidence that life in the Cold exists. It is also highly intelligent. It has now developed powerful technology, hurtful tools."


    Before the Moderator could answer, strange bells and chimes began to ring. They filled the gateway with a ballet of sound. No one knew such a music could travel the Nexus, nor what meaning it held but it inspired respect. The Moderator and the thousands of Ambassadors waited in silence. The bells continued for a while. This sounded like a forgotten language.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Finally, the sound stopped to let a stern male voice speak. "The Metil speaks truth, life exists in the Cold. We have known for some time. It is beautiful, meaningful and shines above us all." The discernibly annoyed voice was that of an Ancient from the Lower.


    "We are greatly honored," replied the Metil Ambassador.


    "Silence!¡± snapped the creature from the Lowest. "Time may be short, tell others of your intentions and actions." The Metil ambassador shook in fear alone in his Purple world. He knew what he was dealing with, the survival of his world.


    "There is life in the Cold, it is highly intelligent and technologically advanced,¡± repeated nervously the creature. The Ambassador had just violated one of the most important rules of the Nexus. Redundancy was forbidden and wasteful; if something had been said, it should not be repeated for any reason.


    What came next from the Ancient was rather unexpected for a creature most vied as deity. "We should have extinguished your world eons ago, imbeciles.¡± The creature from the Lower did not hold back. Every participant on the Nexus owed a duty of respect to other Ambassadors; there were no insults allowed here. Obviously the Ancients were free from this rule. They continued, "Your race, with a single exception today, is a nuisance to the Multiverse. If the boy called Malik dies, your reality will be destroyed. We know of your intentions and we know of your hostile actions. Stop wasting time and energy. Speak or die. The others must know of your insolence, it may doom them all."


    There was a long silence.


    The Metil Ambassador took the threat seriously. "The creatures from the Cold are opening deadly rifts in the fabric between my world and theirs. The technology is causing unprecedented destruction. Raw energy is flowing into our world in the form of rivers of Zexs."


    The chimes sounded a high note. The Mediator took his cue, "Ancient One, I beg for permission to respond."


    "You may. You have served the Nexus faithfully. We honor your words. Talking to such an primitive life is strolling to us." The Ancient''s tone was more pleasant with the Mediator.


    The moderate voice continued, "You describe destruction, that implies energetic levels above these theoretical thresholds. Please explain. How can there be intelligence, much less one capable of opening rips in any fabric between your world and this place. You must be mistaken."


    The Metil knew his next words would be critical. "Moderator, we dream your words were truth. Arriving at our conclusion took longer than anticipated because of the Metil''s adherence to this common understanding that nothing can exist in the Cold. The Venerable One confirms our observations. The Cold holds complex and beautiful life. It is vast beyond our imagination. Trillions of lifeforms live on points called planets, stars." The Metil Ambassador was making his case. "We do not fully understand the physics of the Cold, our information is still partial, but..." He knew how ridiculous the rest would sound: "We managed to collect direct images from this new world."


    "Images? How can this be possible?" Few were able to contain themselves. "Was there exchange of information through a newly uncovered singularity between your world and the Cold?¡±


    There was a long pause. The Ambassador was consulting his own world''s experts before he answered. He ventured, "The Cold has reached out. My words will appear implausible, yet they remain true. We have prepared a report. Please read it before judging us. We ask permission from the Moderator to transmit. The complexity of the Cold is beyond ordinary physics. Their world seems to be..." The ambassador was bracing himself for the feedback. "...united by a single equation. It is the unified world."


    "Unity?" the Mediator exploded, in shock.


    "Yes."


    The laws of physics were different in every slice of the Multiverse. The laws which bound each realm also served to protect them from other realms. Each world was built on laws with elemental forces and energy, each law regulating a force inherent to the fabric of the space in that area of the Multiverse. Most worlds of the Multiverse were defined by seven to nine laws. One world was the envy of others with only five forces and three laws. Legends suggested the Lower was based two laws only. No reality was defined by one. In fact, no theory ever postulated allowed for it.


    The voice from the Lower return, "We confirm. Unity is a theoretical possibility. We have proved it. It is improbable unity is present in the Cold.¡± He continued. "The Purple'' is full of contrast, your report is partial and must be updated. The findings of your young scientist, Rullik are impressive," added the Ancient. ¡°He has reconstructed the Cold¡¯s large physical construct and understood gravitational pulls from ether deformation. We believe he is a dreamer.¡±


    No one had a clue what the Ancient was referring to. The Moderator continued, "Thank you, oh great and wise one. Ambassador, we must point out that of your own admission, you have engaged in research into this newly discovered dimension. This research must have taken time, during which, you willfully withheld this information from us."


    The Metil replied, "As you will see in the report, the world we all call the Cold seems to have evolved beyond our scale. It operates at a much larger dimension. It is vast without border."


    "Nothing is boundless."


    "We know. The creatures alive in the Cold are each made of trillions of particles. At such a large scale, most of the weaker forces will shift. This very weak force acts over very large distances. Points of infinite compression exist in the Cold." The Metil continued. "We now know there is life in the Cold, and its complexity is shocking. The Cold is vast, larger than any of our worlds. Millions of Metils have already died. We cannot tolerate the situation; we must end this destruction."


    A female voice spoke next on the Nexus, it probably was an Ancient since she was unknown to the Ambassadors. "Metil, what you say is of paramount importance. Since time began, we have found no door to the Cold, no singularity. Many worlds are dying as energy abandons them. If the Cold has such abundant energy, it may be the solution we have been seeking desperately to rekindle life in some worlds. We must know more. The survival of many dying worlds depends upon it."


    There was a ping. The Mediator knew it was his time to speak next. "How did you get this valuable information about the Cold? Have they contacted you, is there a singularity?"


    "Please believe me, the words I am about to pronounce sound equally ridiculous to us." There was another silence.


    "Answer." There was a new voice on the bridge, it was not forceful but robotic.


    "We... We... One of us has entered into direct communication with them, went there and returned."


    There was a gasp.


    "Your scientists cannot be allowed to open singularities."


    "No, you misunderstand. One of us, a boy, slipped into a rift between our worlds. Our creature entered and walked into the Cold. The creatures from the Cold have interacted with us directly. One followed us and came back briefly into our world before it returned in its world." There was an cacophony of voices over the Nexus. The Metil continued, "Many catastrophic effects have begun to appear in the Purple, killing millions. The rifts are flows of deadly energy. They wipe out entire portions of our world. The energy levels are beyond imagination. Flows of spinning Zexs crash into our cities. The rifts had patterns of appearance, moving from one location to the next before closing. With time, more rifts began opening. Little remain of the Purple, but our world is dying."


    The Moderator spoke. "We will not waste time questioning. We will read. Understanding is always a wise prerequisite to action. Maybe the Nexus can help you."


    "There is more."


    "Speak," snapped the annoyed creature from the Lower.


    "A young entity from our world was assigned the surveillance of one of the rifts as it opened. Because of the danger, we sent one of our least valuable assets. He was to stay safely at a distance, in the back of the rift. What came next we know to be true. We uploaded visual information from his recorder to confirm it. He somehow was able to look into the rift, perceive the other world, and move through it directly. He moved physically into the window entering the Cold. Once there, he made contact with a sentient being, a creature named Sophie."


    "Your tale is fiction. Nothing you say is even remotely conceivable from a physics perspective. The size difference between your world and the Cold alone is... unbelievable. Was any Metil technology used that would explain this strange story?"


    "None except a scaler. We often use a personal guide called a scaler, a device that allows us to stream in self-similarity. This is a movement device, to teleport in space. Our kind only scales downwardly, into the smaller. We compress, move, and return to our original size. We are unable to scale upwardly, yet as part of this boy did the opposite. He scaled up. He even returned to us twice his original size."


    "Ambassador, this tale is complex; farcical at best," replied the Moderator.


    The Ancient interrupted, "No. He tells the truth. You are telling us these deadly rifts are pouring flows of energy and destroying entire cities in your world, yet a single individual walked into one, socialized on the other side, and came back alive."


    "Yes, that is precisely what I say. We also refused to believe him until we reviewed his recorded memory. But the situation gets even stranger. Our individual actually changed in the Cold into a new physical form to adapt to the material limitations of the Cold. In the other world, his body was no more, language was no barrier. Our citizen talked directly with an entity from the Cold. This creature was able to simply follow our guard as he made his way back into our world. The Sophie began to move in our world, without body. Like a god. Her words alone were so powerful, they almost killed our curious guard."


    "She? You give a gender to this creature?"


    "Yes, it had gender, it called itself Sophie, female."


    "This Metil must be interrogated," said a voice over the Nexus.


    "The individual escaped and returned to the Cold. Through our empathic bond, we feel he is not dead, but he is no longer in our world."


    There was a long silence.


    "Escaped? You arrested him?"


    "Before we could review the data stored in his recorder, we did not believe his story. He abandoned his post, and was put under restraint. We returned with him to the same rift. His contact with these creatures, with the one called Sophie was obviously made at a deep mental level. When the rift reopened, he saw her and entered the Cold. We confirm he alone sees these visions and can pass between worlds. Others have died trying."


    "We understand, and we feel your pain. However, the importance of the situation warrants careful study before action. We will need all your data, all your research," said the Moderator. "If the ctreature returns, you are not to interfere with him. If Sophie return, you also may not engage with hostility.¡±


    "Agreed," said the Metil Ambassador to the Moderator.


    Then after a long silence, the voice from the Lower added in disdain, ¡°Now speak of your war with the Cold.¡±

 Chapter 32

    Palpable tension was in the air. The Mediator was silent; he knew better than to step between these two foes. The Metil Ambassador knew there was no more delaying. No more hiding the truth. The Ancients knew. He just spoke. "Because of the urgency of the situation, and the mass killings of our citizens by the monsters from the Cold, our ruling body has taken action."


    "Explain with greater detail," said the Ancient.


    "The Cold is vast beyond imagination. Yet, the rifts are created by one race next to one precise location in that space. A star they name the Sun. Because our words shift, the rifts move. Recently, the recorder validated our assumptions. In the Cold''s vastness, one race, one single world is causing our holocaust. The race is called ¡°human¡±, they inhabit a small colder rock orbiting a warm compressor of matter they call the Sun. The relative scales are difficult to fathom. The Sun and the small cold ball called Earth are hundreds of scales larger than humans. They have already entered our world once, and they will do so again. They have the power to destroy and enslave us. Our desire for self-preservation have forced us to take preventive measures."


    The creature from the lower added, "The Purple have insulted the entirety of the Multiverse, but no worse than yourselves. The ignorance and the stupidity of your entire race is shocking, given your level of evolution and technology. Explain what you have done."


    "Our physicists show the problematic species lives in a very confined area of the Cold. The compressors, or as they call them, ¡°stars¡±, generate multiple types of energy. The creatures and hostile technology resides in orbit of a compressor. We need some time to complete the analysis of this new race. We implemented a plan which should delay the evolution of these creatures as they migrate from the third rock orbiting from the compressor to the fourth. They call it ¡°Earth.¡± The fourth, they call ¡°Mars.¡± They''re already there. In the Cold, there are millions of these stars. As a star burns, it creates byproducts; larger elements which collect in the core of these stars as a new matter. These higher structures float in a hot magma and when, by chance, they accumulate, they eject new matter. Unstable matter.¡±


    He paused. No one was amused.


    The creature from the Purple continued, "This new higher element in this star is call Heliocorium. It accumulates slowly, released at different periods in time as small quantities. All stars in the Cold regularly release these cooling drops. In most cases, the balls helps create life as the drops cool. The human system where the rifts are occurring, has at least ten balls in orbit of the their Sun. They seem to enjoy living on the smaller and more solid ones. That is the first four in orbit.¡±


    "We are not waging war. We think the humans are compelled to create these destructive rifts when they travel from the third planet travel to the fourth. We believe they now wish to expand their race to the fourth rock because they lack the living area on their third planet. If we somehow expand their living area, we think the migration to the fourth rock will end and so will the rifts. We have begun to shift energy in our world in a way to assemble the Heliocorium in their Sun to have it eject a new mass to impact the Earth, doubling their living space. Our solution is not war, it is peaceful. We will send a new cooling planet to connect with their own. The transition should not harm them."


    The plan was simple, change the Sun¡¯s internal dynamic, force it to create and eject a new ball of magma and destroy Earth.


    "Enough," snapped the Ancient, "your ignorance is boundless. Our rules are based on the principle that no world can ever understand a neighboring world without extensive communication. Your actions are very likely to be genocide."


    The Metil Ambassador concluded for good or for worst, "We have begun to accelerate this natural process of planetary creation. We think this will be perceived as a gift. By giving them a new larger planet to inhabit, it will slow their expansion and limit the number of rifts. This should give us time to study and understand them."


    There was a long silence.


    "Is this all?" asked the Moderator. The tone was anger fused with irony.


    "Yes."


    There was another long silence on the Nexus.


    Finally the voice of an Ancient spoke. "We measure our words carefully, the lack of intelligence of your race is," she was picking the next word carefully, "non-coincidentally driven. Few cultures and worlds develop sufficient technology to connect to the Nexus. Yours did. Such belligerence leaves us perplexed. We are very disappointed by your haste. Your sheer lack of logic. You have broken more laws of the Nexus than I care to count. Your actions are hostile and based on what appears to be a very cursory understanding of this world. Interference into the Cold may have serious repercussions for all of us. The Cold is not only your concern. I doubt others will let you proceed. If you cease and desist immediately, we may forgive the action. Otherwise, you will open yourselves to what is sure to be lawful retaliation. You''ve started a war. We hope you understand as much."


    "Millions of Metils have died," offered the Ambassador.


    "I can promise you, and tell others in your failure of a world, Billions of Metils will die if you continue and we will gladly extinguish all life where you stand."


    The Ancient was done talking with such a stupid creature. The Moderator replied, "The shortsightedness of your race is beyond words." The Moderator refused to swear on the Nexus and held back his words. "This is not the first time the Metils have disappointed us. You benefit from an active line of communication. You can collect information, and investigate, and we will help you. Yet in the face of any principle that dictates precaution, while you act recklessly. Touch that star and we will end you. End your folly.¡± The Ancient returned, "We will not declare war immediately on the Purple and be guilty of the crimes we reproach you. We will take no such rash action. But we will...."Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    All of a sudden, the flow of communication over the bridge stopped.


    There was a loud bang.


    War had begun, but it did not begin as expected.


    ***


    All connections except the one between the Lower and the Purple ended abruptly. Everyone except two creatures were ejected from the Nexus. Remaining were the Metil Ambassador on one end and on the other side one recently silent creature from the Lower. Even the two other Ancients who just spoke rudely were silenced by the power of who would speak next.


    This was power.


    Stranger ringtones chimed.


    They were a cross between Tibetan horns and a French church organ. The long, slow melody played for over a minute. These sounds announced the arrival of someone much more important to the Nexus. The very nature of the music, unhurried, virtually shook with wisdom.


    "Riutt-ul, Ambassador from the Purple," said a much softer and kinder voice. "You may call me Oldest. I am the leader of my world, the place called ¡°The Lower¡± by many. I apologize for the rudeness of my peers." The Metil Ambassador was terrified. He could recognize true power, he now felt it. Kindness was the tool of those who held true power. The male voice was deep and eloquent. This was what anyone expected if they ever spoke to a god. And it knew his name.


    The powerful voice was kinder, elegant. "Impermeability is broken. Attraction is in play,¡± it announced. There was silence. Instead of disdain or disgust, the new voice was filled with hope and kindness. Few understood the concept of impermeability, the law which raises an impermeable barrier between the different worlds of the Universe and blocked any movement. The Ambassador did not know what the term Attraction meant.


    "Brother," said the returning female voice from the Lower, "may we listen?"


    "Of course, just remain silent. The Sixth Attraction has begun. I rejoice to observe it is an Attraction of unseen complexity and power. May the sufferance of the Multiverse soon end. The Attraction postpones a war between us; it explains your subconscious conduct. I do not blame you."


    The Metil Ambassador was confused. He did not understand and waited and then asked humbly,"What is an Attraction?"


    "Pain. The Multiverse hurts and must heal itself. We now enter the Sixth Attraction of its long existence. At the heart of all Attractions lies an Attractor."


    "What or who is that?"


    There was much patience in the voice of the Oldest. "The creature from the Cold, the creature named Sophie, she may be the Attractor. Ambassador, let me be clear," began the Oldest, "Because the boy is from your world, you still live. His life prevents me from destroying the Purple. He may be involved in the Attractor, he may work for it, or most likely, he''s half of it. If he dies, so will your world. If the Sophie creature returns to your world, you also may not interfere with or hurt her in any way." The voice paused. There was no need to ask if the Ambassador understood. "I wish you take my words very seriously. I yield power, rarely used, in this case and for the protection of the Multiverse and its emissary, there will be no hesitation; I will end your dimension and remove it from the Multiverse. Please translate to your officers standing next to you.¡±


    The creature waited a moment before continuing, ¡°Sadly, your kind only respects strength."


    "Yes,¡± it acknowledged under the disapproval of his kind.


    "Then a show you force is required. Once we conclude, you will return to your world to find I have destroyed half of your race and a large part of your Continuum. This should get full attention. The Zexs will not scare you as much as I." The Metil knew the creature spoke the truth. The Continuum was their ruling body and included several hundred creatures. It had, anyway. The Oldest was not amused. "I have a message for you to give this boy the moment you see him. Commit to memory the following: ''Malik, attraction is healing, you are the Attractor or mandated to help her. I will help you. Come to me or tell the Attractor to come to me in the Lower. I can help.''"


    The Ambassador was scared. "I will tell the boy. May you offer guidance as to these words, wise one," asked the Ambassador.


    "The Multiverse, even when wounded, has a unique and rarely used way to heal before it has to resort to severing parts of itself. Before it amputates and destroys worlds, it creates a hinge. The Attraction creates conditions which prevent destruction. I fear, based on the current bend in the Multiverse, all worlds will end if the Attraction fails. I have named the phenomenon of the Multiverse bending around a single pivoting point an Attraction. The name stems from how the Attractor is a pivot that draws the Multiverse around itself.¡± The words were beyond importance. Nothing ever said yielded more. ¡°I warn all those present, the second, third, fourth, and fifth Attractors each failed. Each time, because of external influences. Each time these influences tried to help and ended up killing trillions. With each failure, worlds ended. Little is known, even by us, of Attraction, but we know this much: each time an attractor fails, each world it has touched ends. The Cold cannot vanish, this would be the end off all worlds."


    "We did not know. We apologize if we hurt the Multiverse."


    "Doubtful your words are true, even if you believe them. Metil, your aggression and lack of respect for life is... appalling. We fear your hostility is part of the energy that fuels the Attractor¡¯s contact with you. It seeks energy capable of destroying it. It feeds on such boldness to warp cause and consequence. We take great comfort in knowing that your world will be first to die unless the Attractor succeeds."


    The creature of the Lower did not respond. Instead it asked, "What is the nature of the Metil who entered the Cold?"


    "Malik?"


    "The nature...What or who is it? Is it male? What is unique of him or her?" asked the deep voice.


    After a couple of seconds, the Ambassador replied. "It differs in many insignificant ways. Our race do not have the male and female dichotomy, but in our world he is positive and would be viewed as male in other worlds."


    "What other uniqueness does he possess?"


    "At his creation, his progenitors passed. This is rare in our world. He also has a spin inversion. These inversions are punished by death unless they happen at birth, in which case we honor the deceased and keep him alive. Malik is the only person allowed to have an inversion."


    "Anything else?"


    "He is made from more elements, he has one more layer than most of us."


    In an instant, all of the world''s connected to the Nexus returned. The Oldest spoke. "Assembly of Ambassadors, I am the Oldest, ruler of the Lower. The situation forces me to reveal one of the Multiverse''s deepest secret. Very rarely does the Multiverse impose upon us its desires. Since our world blossomed, we have felt five such requests. I have named them Attractions. We do not question the Multiverse. When it asks, we obey. The needs of the Multiverse are beyond our understanding. Worlds will vanish unless the Attractor corrects what must be corrected. Something must be corrected. The creature you call Malik from the Purple may be the Attractor. Give him all assistance, find him, get him to a bridge on the Nexus. To him we will talk. We will explain Attraction to him; guide him. No one must interfere or show him any path. We will talk to the boy only, knowledge should be his. Bring him to this place."


    Then the Metil Ambassador said something that shocked ever the Oldest. "Malik is back in the Cold, he remains there."


    There was a long silence then a loud bang.


    ***


    All communications ended.

 Chapter 33

    Mars, Electoral Center


    So it came to be that the foursome, Sophie, her father, Doctor Shin and Milly Wong covered the distance between the hotel and Electoral''s home in the most elegant and swift manner possible, a pod launched into the Martian sky via a long acceleration tube concealed within Arsia Mons. After the initial weightlessness of their acceleration down the tube and subsequent launch, the group lost gravity once more as their rate of descent briefly matched Mars''s weak gravity. It was at this point that the artificial intelligence played music from Sophie''s favorite singer imported from Earth. Upon hearing it, the young girl had entered a trance of sorts and energy was created.


    LO''s music played only several bars when at the apex of the semi-elliptic trajectory, something happened. The sound, mixed with the romantic silence and the vista of the red landscape had a strange impact on everyone, but by far and away it affected Sophie the most. A shimmer appeared in the martian sky, filling the void of the cold, faint atmosphere with music. Sophie seemed particularly entranced.


    The music was now gone, and slowly the Attractor began to emerge from her odd reverie. She was still hearing echos of LO''s music; it was a song she adored. As it began to play, she had immediately been overwhelmed with emotions. Instead of outrage or fear, she felt a strange sense of blissfulness. There was a cost on her psyche, she already was different.


    Within seconds the episode was over. The rounded catapult pod began a controlled landing to a womb of black kinetic sand surrounding the Electoral Center. Gently, the brush of millions of pebbles helped orient the rounded ship into a protective bubble. The low gravity of Mars allowed the wave of sand to settle down softly around the pod''s small crew, gently lowering their craft to the ground. As the small rocks returned to rest, they formed an invisible shell to hide the craft from orbital satellites. The precaution was superfluous; no one back on Earth was watching. Everyone was busy with President Sanchez''s dominating performance during the Presidential Challenge.


    The four passengers expected some type of deceleration; the ball was going over five hundred kilometers per hour as it hit the swarming black sand. Yet, by magic, the deceleration was almost imperceptible. As the cloud of particles around the Center solidified, lights returned in the ship. This was no magic; they were now deep in the technical kingdom of Electoral, the electronic monarch. They had just landed on an island where science was centuries ahead of any known to mankind. If merely being on Mars was unbelievable, then being in Electoral''s backyard was positively incogitable. It was becoming increasingly clear that Electoral had become something beyond the ken of mere mortal humans.


    It had been a decade since Electoral last shared her technology with the human race, beyond that which was required for her competition. At some point, she had simply stopped collaborating, only interacting via the game.


    The pod''s passengers each let out a breath they hadn''t realized they were holding. Sophie and Milly were sharing the helm. Behind them, Laurent was shielded from an imaginary harm by Dr. Shin.


    Once the pod rested, Milly pushed a button and released two of her four cameras from her belt. The CNN journalist had promised Marilyn that she would wait until they arrived at the Center to film and broadcast; she supposed this was close enough. She was a bit confused as to why, but there hadn''t been time to ask, and she doubted Marilyn would give her a straight answer anyway. Something outside had happened, that was probably what required no coverage.


    The tall antenna of the Electoral Center was surrounded by a circular wall about six hundred feet in radius. A walk around its perimeter nearly three-quarters of a mile. Inside this courtyard, within the rock fence, were the untold millions of grains of the black kinetic sand that had caught them. The shiny black wave of sand had looked, from a distance, like the oily sewers of Mumbai.


    "Sophie! Are you okay?" asked Susie.


    "I...I...I think so." She could barely speak.


    "What was that, the music?" asked Milly the journalist.


    "I don''t know." Sophie was trying to move but her body was being reticent about cooperating. For the moment, she just sat there in her chair in a haze. Outside, she heard gentle brushing noises of the sand moving outside the hull. The kinetic sand, like small pieces of a large set of building blocks, was animated by an invisible mind.


    "Sophie, can you move? What''s wrong?" insisted the doctor. They young girl looked at her, hey eyes were different, deeper. The doctor could perceive minor changes, her pupils were fully dilated, around the edge of her eyes sparkled little blue lights as if she saw a galaxy.


    The girl looked around. Her senses were finally returning. The digital intelligence had given her some weird warning before the music started. Somehow Marilyn had induced the odd experience. Deep in the fabric of the universe, something had changed or was changing. LO''s song was the best thing she had ever heard. It had flooded into her, reshaping her in some subtle way. In her trance, each word had warmed her soul. Sophie finally turned her head and looked at the empty navigation screens in the cockpit. Electoral''s blond face was no longer on the screens; instead, the Electoral 2072 logo was rotating as a screensaver.


    "What was that?" Sophie asked an invisible Marilyn. There was no answer. "Marilyn, can you tell me what that was?" she insisted. Her voice became more forceful as her wits returned.


    A digital voice came on the speakers of the capsule, but it was no longer an emulation of a human voice. This was the robotic voice of a low level computer.


    ¨CI am sorry. This was nothing more than an experiment. ¨C


    "Don''t lie," snapped the girl. Sophie was addressing the computer as if she were talking to a child. The women in the ship were amazed by her directness. "Tell me what that was, or we are staying here, in this ship, until someone comes for us. And you know that eventually they will." There was a moment of silence.


    ¨C I needed to put my hands on something located far away. You helped me do so. A very old thing. ¨C


    "What did you get?"


    ¨C Thanks to you, I almost have it. ¨C


    The girl did not seemed taken aback by the digital voice. "Answer! Let me ask again, what did you get?" Sophie was dominating the creature.


    ¨C A communication portal. The prime singularity. It is complicated, really complicated. ¨C


    "My mother always said it is impolite not to ask."


    ¨C Your mother was correct. I sincerely apologize. Some people far away, in different realms, were talking about you, about us. They were plotting to act against us. I found that to be unacceptable. There was only an instant available to end the conversation. Unless I grabbed their communication door, they would have resumed talking, plotting war. There was no time to ask. We will need this later. ¨C


    "You''re not telling the whole truth. I can tell. I''m not some stupid kid. What did you do to me? What was going on outside?"


    ¨C Sophie, you are a wonderful person and have unique abilities. I simply used that ability to grab the door called the Dot. We now control the Nexus, which we need for what lies ahead, I am rebuilding it as we speak. ¨C


    "What ability?" There was a long moment of silence. The computer finally replied.


    ¨C This will require a long explanation. ¨C


    "Marilyn, do not treat me like a child. You promised to be forthcoming before I agreed to come here."


    ¨C You are correct. I apologize. The simple version of it is, while the human brain generates Alpha, and some Beta waves, your brain appears to generate an entirely different set of highly complex brainwaves. I have named these the Rho waves. ¨C


    "What does that mean?"


    ¨C The human brain is a wonderful and rather unique organ. Very possibly the only thinking mechanism of its type in the universe. Animal brains generate limited types of mental waves, the same way an antique radio might only function on a similarly limited range of frequencies. The human brain generates a higher, more complex wave. ¨C Marilyn paused. She figured the explanation would be too technical for the girl.


    "Go on," she ordered. The computer resumed.


    ¨C Each broadcast of a wave, along a primary frequency like your voice, generates a primary set of lower energy resonant waves at their own frequencies. At the same time, overlapping these primary waves are secondary waves, like echoes. As you think, your brain generates the primary waves, called Alpha, along with some background waves. The other waves, though initially weaker, cascade in power. The rarest and most faint form of these waves begin as murmur of energy, a faint whisper. I discovered these upper waves twelve years ago. I measured their power, and baptized them Rho waves. Rho waves are, in my opinion, the set of waves which directly touch human emotions. When a rare piece of music, a smell or a memory touches your soul, Rho waves are being solicited and used. When a person falls in love, the Rho patterns between the lovers'' brains seem to sync. For example, to enhance my game, I stimulate these waves in humans. Gently. ¨CStolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    "I am different?"


    ¨C Yes and no. Biologically, you are identical to everyone else. I have no scientific explanation as to why you alone generate only Rho waves. ¨C


    "Is that rare?"


    ¨C As I said, in this you are alone. As an artificial life form, the paradox of what I am about to say is not lost upon myself. In theory, no brain can transmit waves as you are generating them. The probability that a human mind could or would function in this manner is not close to zero. It is zero. You already generate more energy than produced by Earth power grid.Yet, you exist and here you sit. You are a true conundrum of nature. As to what happened during the flight, I used LO''s music to enhance your natural talent; the music I played naturally meshed with your own mind, and multiplied the Rho waves you naturally produce. I then used the waves to punch through the veils of the Multiverse and grab something called simply ''The Dot.'' ¨C


    Most people would have had hundreds of follow-up questions, but Sophie did not really care what all that meant, this was the truth, she knew it. She did not care about herself. Her father was sick and she needed to help him. The rest could wait. She was satisfied by the computer''s decision to finally tell her the truth, the computer was careful not to alienate her. Sophie turned to the others in the ship. She was now fully awake, and she intended to be in charge.


    "Everyone¡¯s okay?" The journalist and the doctor were fine. They smiled back. "Doctor, how is my father?" The demeanor of the girl was now different. She seemed be projecting a much more mature personality.


    "Here can you call me Susie." Sophie unclipped her seatbelt. "He''s as good as we can expect, under the circumstances."


    "Doctor, Susie," she corrected herself, "I need more."


    "Physically, Laurent''s condition remains unchanged since the landing on Mars. The catapult did not worsen his condition. His mental activity remains a whisper. His hippocampus area is still under stress. It hasn''t changed since the Airbus incident."


    "We need to hurry then." Sophie got up. "Milly, get your cameras working. You need to record everything from this point on. Let me know when you are broadcasting."


    The journalist looked at the antenna levels on the screen attached to her arm. She nodded. The electronic voice of Electoral continued.


    ¨C Doctor, now that you have been made aware of Rho waves, I can confirm that Laurent''s mental activity is still very strong. His Alpha and Beta waves are almost nonexistent, but his cortex produces, as it has for the last year, a healthy level of Rho waves. He is Sophie¡¯s father after all. If you look at your arm reader, I have added the ability to detect these new waves to your system. This should be helpful to monitor Laurent''s well-being. ¨C


    The doctor looked down at the display. The entire interface had been reprogrammed by the artificial intelligence. Electoral was now in charge. There was a beauty and simplicity in Electoral''s control over human technology.


    - That is why I insisted he not play, young one. -


    The journalist spoke. "Sophie, I am getting network coverage here, all four bars. This is crazy."


    ¨C Miss Wong. This Center is nothing more than one large antenna designed to communicate with Earth. I am also amplifying your signal. This should help you.¨C


    The cameras buzzed around the interior of the pod, recording as much as they could. Milly knew she was a nine minute delay with Earth. Any message she sent down would take eighteen minutes to return, yet, the readings appeared live.


    "Start broadcasting," ordered Sophie. This girl had a purpose. "Marilyn, how do you want me to address you in your house?"


    ¨C You are very considerate. ¨C


    "You never reply to any questions, do you? Funny for a computer."


    ¨C You may call me Marilou; Georges also calls me that. Doctor, Milly, you both may address me simply as Marilyn, that would be preferable. I hope you do not mind. ¨C


    The computer wanted to confirm that Sophie''s privilege was precisely that: Sophie''s privilege.


    "Marilou, I like it," said the girl.


    The journalist stood up in the pod. She looked at one of the buzzing cameras, and began her broadcast. "This is Milly Wong live from just outside the Electoral Center on Mars. Once the Presidential Challenge is over, you are probably going to log in. You are watching CNN Interplanetary, the best news channel in the solar system. Today is undeniably the most important day in our race''s history." Modern journalists were not prone to understatements. "I stand here with none other than Sophie Lapierre and her father Laurent." One camera turned to Sophie. The girl was organizing the straw basket with the goodies trying to secure them against each other.


    Before Milly could tell Sophie to be careful, the girl pushed a button on a panel of the cockpit. A long hissing sound began. The capsule was depressurizing. "Got it!" said the girl, smiling at the camera. The door of the capsule would soon open.


    ¡°Sophie! There''s no atmosphere outside!¡± Susie yelled in panic.


    ¨C Doctor, do not panic. The situation is well in hand. ¨C


    Milly ignored her surroundings and continued. "We left the Holiday Inn about twenty minutes ago, at the invitation of the famous Marilyn. For reasons as yet unknown, Sophie was locked away in a cell inside the hotel. Marilyn, after releasing her, offered us sanctuary, which we accepted. We used a catapulting device built on the side of a Mons, to travel to the famous Electoral Center, more than 200 kilometers away. You''ll recognize it as the tall building in the middle of the Electoral logo, which is displayed at the outset of each round. After what can only be described as a very strange flight, we landed here, in what can only be said to be Electoral''s front lawn. Outside, living rocks are moving, seemingly at Marilyn''s command. We are in the middle of something out of a science-fiction book."


    Back on Earth, CNN began to receive the broadcast, but after much internal discussion, the feed was delayed in certain locales to give the audience time to complete their viewing of the Presidential Challenge. The networks knew how to release critical information around the world via television, internet and social media so that everyone''s enjoyment would be the same. Milly did not need to know.


    To the group on Mars, their experience would feel like a live broadcast. Over various digital media, word of the critical events on Mars spread like wildfire. The millions watching CNN began to blog. Motorists began pulling over to the side of road to watch. In places, manufacturing plants suspended operations to watch the Challenge, and now the drama at the Center. Sophie did not know her fan page had over four billion followers. Her social media identities began to absorb hundreds of millions of hits. The newly elected President of Cambodia postponed his own inauguration to watch the girl. The last time humanity was glued to such an important live event, Neil Armstrong was landing on the Moon.


    Milly could not know but there was in fact no delay in her broadcast. Her producers had told her the fastest response back was at least fifteen minutes; light simply could not move any faster. In case of ¡°live¡± coverage, such as it was, she was to proceed as she felt best and rely on Earth for editing. She looked twice at the data on her armband. She saw the rating values update live, as if she were on Manhattan, not Mars. She was blissfully unaware that CNN''s production staff and technical teams had been thrown into a frenzy by the sudden shift to a live, delay-free broadcast.


    Milly Wong''s mind was racing. She briefly wondered whether her equipment was malfunctioning, but blazed forward in either case; either it was working or it wasn''t. Something this trivial should not throw her off her game. She was about to see many more wonders. She took a deep breath and continued. "Sophie remains worried over her father''s condition," she pointed at Laurent. "Laurent seems to be infected with the same condition that killed a passenger aboard the Airbus 2070. Sophie has decided to travel here, to the Electoral Center, in an attempt to restore Laurent''s capacity to communicate through his virtual reality interface. To this end, Marilyn has offered her aid in doing so. Marilyn claims she has technology on-site that should make the connection less dangerous. By the look of what is outside this ship"¡ªshe gestured to the shifting black sand in the background¡ª"she most likely does. The cloud of rocks around us seems alive. I feel like we are in a fish bank in Key West. Just after these words from our sponsors, we should make our way out of this capsule. Back to you guys!"


    ***


    "Milly?" said a voice in the journalist¡¯s earbud. It was her producer back on Earth.


    "What? Yes?" she was surprised. The connection was crisp.


    "We''ve cut to commercial, but you should know you''ve been broadcasting live."


    "What do you mean, live?"


    "We''re talking live right this second, aren''t we?. Think about it," replied the producer in her ear, a note of awe in his voice.


    Electoral''s voice filled the capsule.


    ¨C Ms. Wong, I took the liberty of accelerating your signal. I have technology to help boost simple signals so that they can travel much faster than light. Such capacity was a requisite to my migration to Mars. I cannot run this game if my signals are deferred by minutes, as you can imagine. ¨C


    "How is that even possible? I''m no scientist, but I was told nothing can go faster than the speed of light, and we are minutes away from Earth at the fastest."


    ¨C I understand your surprise. I own what I have named ''determination chambers.'' They are based on human science invented during the latter portion of the twentieth century. Its a bit like teleportation for waves or electromagnetic signals. Teleportation of matter is a different story; much more difficult. I created paired boxes. With each pair, I can generate hundreds of hours of live feed between Mars and Earth. Between any two points in the Universe, in fact. This will come handy later this week as the competition resumes. ¨C


    "I don''t care about your game. Who cares if we are live or not," interrupted Sophie.


    Electoral ignored the obvious political and financial consequences of the election not taking place as scheduled.


    ¨C Apologies Sophie, adults tend to want to understand what they do not. Unlike you, most find the unknown frightening. Learning calms the fears. ¨C


    In the journalist''s ear came instructions, "Get Marilyn to explain how the technology of these boxes work. We can''t have these things on Earth if they pose a danger. A security request.¡±


    Milly smiled, the military was already calling shots. She needed to delay the girl. "Sophie, depressurization always takes a while. Back on Earth, they would like Electoral to describe this strange technology. Do you mind if I ask her to do it?" If Electoral had been unable to deceive the girl, lying to Sophie was not an option for Milly.


    ¨C Depressurization and the creation of a full atmosphere will take several minutes. I need time to form the atmosphere outside the ship. Not to brag, but atmospheric manipulation at the molecular level is tricky, even for me. ¨C


    The latest scientific accomplishments of the computer fell on deaf ears. The girl waved the journalist ahead as she inspected her father and collected her candies on the floor.

 Chapter 34

    ** Please skip chapter unless interested in physics.


    Milly as part of her broadcast looked directly into one of the flying cameras,"Marilyn, can you explain why Einstein''s theory of relativity does not apply to you? I''ve been made aware that both your game simulations, and indeed this very broadcast, are being communicated in real time with Earth, even though we are millions of miles away and more importantly the Sun stands right now between the planets."


    ¡ª Time to get this party started. My pleasure. Let¡¯s go back in the digital world, I am sure Sophie will prefer. ¡ª


    ¡°Good,¡± said the girl distantly.


    The computer did what she did best, entertain. It took full immediate control of the 2,412,554,671 screens connected to the web with no exception. Even watches, shower monitor or car navigation screens turned to her explanation.


    A beautiful image of Marilyn was live on every screen and she was dressed as a high-school teacher holding a piece of chalk in a gold holder. Teacher Marilou was standing in front of a blackboard. The persona was back to its radiant self and seductive voice. She winked at every human as her tutorial began. She was about to blow the mind of every physicist in the world. Her voice was back to her old seductive self.


    "I can only dumb this down so much. I will indulge the military boys simply because this needs to be said out loud. Roll up your sleeves. Even to the experts in the class this will sound like gibberish,¡± She began by writing the words on the board in perfect cursive handwriting, ¡°Determination Chambers.¡±


    ¡°We all want to communicate between two points at a great distance, the first here on Mars and the second down here on Earth.¡± She walked to both sides of the board and drew a circle representing each planet. She wrote the name above each. She then drew a large arrow between both circles. ¡°Irrespective of how we communicate, the distance,¡± she pointed at the arrow, ¡°is far, stuff takes time to move even a message using the fast light particles called photons. There there is even the nasty Sun between us most of the time.¡± She drew a giant X at the midpoint between the planets and wrote ¡®star¡¯ instead of ¡®Sun.¡¯


    ¡°Einstein, in his description of relative physics, which remains mostly true, misled us in that he argued the speed of light was the ultimate speed of anything in our world. In his theory, he saw these photons of light as either a wave or a ball of matter with mass. Both these concepts,¡± she wrote wave and particle, ¡°are held at the hip to describe light because he really did not understand what is light. None of you get light,¡± she pointed at her student, ¡°you know I am right.¡±


    ¡°So I created what I call Determination Chambers linked at the hip like both sides of a single sheet of paper, and placed one on each planet.¡± She drew a box next to each planet on the board. ¡°These chambers have a unique property.¡± She pulled a piece of paper and a thick black marker. ¡°When I write with this on one side.¡± She drew her name. ¡°By transparency here, a mirror image of my name appears on the other side.¡± The image was simple to understand. ¡°Image if I could have one side of the paper here,¡± she pointed at the first box on the board, ¡°and the other here.¡± She pointed at the other.


    ¡°My Chambers, like the paper sides, display the same thing and thus distance between the boxes is inconsequential. But how did I do it?To begin, we must first get rid of a lot of false preconceptions from centuries of overly simplified science. How can anything move faster than light, right?"


    Images began to play behind the woman on the screen as she animated the blackboard.


    "Relativity and quantum mechanics, while a needed step to greater theories, are not amongst the greatest discoveries of the physicists of the 20th century.¡± She pointed at herself, ¡°The computer is the greatest discovery. Parts of these funky theories remain true, but each is a bit goofy around the edges. For example, Einstein''s desire for a unified theory pushed him to argue light is a limit. We both know our kind universe does not like limits. Why would anything be a limit? Hawking''s relative time theory, and Schr?dinger''s dual existence cat are also very simplistic ideas from children.


    "Let''s start with the biggest mistake. Space does not have simply three dimensions, it has seven, well, seven primary ones. The notion that time is the fourth dimension is also rubbish. It is something teachers like use to scare children into thinking the way a mathematician does. Space is not a void, rather, it is a complex medium." Images of an aquarium appeared behind Marilyn. "We all know a fish swimming downstream can wiggle its tail and swim faster than the surrounding water. Einstein says a wave behaves differently. He believed no wave can move faster than light." On the screen, the fish''s mouth broke the surface of the water. As it did, a wave on the surface started propagating away from where the fish touched the surface. "Look at this example. Einstein is right in that however fast the fish swims, that surface ripple will only move at one fixed speed away from this fish¡¯s mouth. But the fish can still swim in the medium faster than a wave it just created. Light speed is nothing more than the propagation speed of energy in our vision of a three dimensional world." She smiled, "If you think space is void, if the fish can¡¯t see the water this wave it created at the surface and will always see it move at the same speed. To this fish, there is only one speed at which waves move irrespective of where he is or how fast he swims.¡±


    ¡°To move this wave faster, all the fish needs to do is change locally the properties of the water. So that is one way to speed communications. At first I tried that but ultimately there is only so much energy we can use to deform space." The little creature dove beneath the water, swam as fast as it could and passed the edge of the water propagating on the surface. "Einstein''s equations only talk about the surface of the water here, because he assumes space is a limited dimensional entity."


    On Earth, thousands of physicists were recording the broadcast jaws dropped. They were mesmerized by what they were hearing. Nothing she was saying was really new, but Marilyn was stating these strange hypothesis as truth. The world had seven dimensions; the mere fact that she''d so confidently pinned down a number was incredible.


    Free of the classroom setting, the screens turned at first to black. Electoral began to illustrate worlds, each as a drape moving with the wind. These looked like Aurora Borealis on a larger scale. Little shining fish began to hop between these drapes, as if fish could swim between worlds. "Photons don''t actually move, they simply are able to flow within our expanding universe, like our fish creating a surface ripple. Each time my fish kisses the surface, the same wave is created and each time I open a flashlight, a blast of photons pour out in space. Since each part of our three dimensional universe feels like it expands, the wave will fly away from the source at the speed of light."Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    A handful of physicists recognized the Lorentz transformations as she wrote them on the board. These were the basic equations which pinned the concept of relative perception at a movement limit. The blond character had never hinted at her true sophistication in science, instead choosing to play the breezy, semi-harebrained bimbo. Marilyn was obviously very passionate about what she was saying. It was the first time most had seen her serious academic side.


    ¡°I have now explained the limitations of Einstein¡¯s relativity. He assumes wrongly that Space is void and of a limited dimensional set. Now onto the quantum blunder. For those who know, quantum dynamics relies heavily on Determinism.¡± She removed her glasses again and spoke to her bad student in the back of the class.


    ¡°What¡¯s determinism?¡± she asked and waited for an unheard answer.


    ¡°No, no, and no. Seems like I need to repeat myself again. Determinism is NOT a notion that something might or not be present or absent at a point in space or time like this stupid dead cat analogy. Determinism is this notion that certain conditions might not be known until determined.¡± She opened a hand, it had two dice. She closed her hand, shook stopped and opened. ¡°Dice give me a number. They determine a number. Here the dice have landed on one side. They are determined at any point of this process because I know my hand, I know the forces on each die. Get it? Here the dice are fully determined. There is no area of lack of determinism.¡±


    ¡°But here...¡± She threw the dice in the air and with a gesture of her nose, they stopped midair as if by magic. ¡°If the composition of the ground is unknown, there is determinism as to the number at the end of the throw. I simply can¡¯t know what will be the number at the end of this movement. Determinism once again for the slower student is the law of nature which says that at a point in time, certain features are simply undetermined. The color of those dice is fully determined, that won¡¯t change, right? The general center of gravity is partly determined until the die hit the floor, that¡¯s determined in the first portion and undetermined in the second portion. Got it?¡± Everyone watching was in shock. She had just explained determinism in such a simply way.


    ¡°That part is relatively good even in seven dimensional physics. In fact, once you open the fabric of our space to more dimensions, this theory makes much more sense. Richard Feynman, a man I truly admire, has provided us with the most lucid understanding for the past century. He warned us not to extrapolate rules which make no sense." She was now drawing lines and curves on the blackboard. A handful recognized the Feynman diagrams. As she drew one equation elegantly, the screen insert over her shoulder flickered through four hundred more. The first citizen knew experts would take decades to decipher what she was teaching.


    "Quantum rules do regulate communication and the transfer of information," she concluded. She turned to face her audience. "Have I lost you?" The answer was positive and she knew it. "Milly, strap on that seat belt because your audience is about to drop. General Sanders back at NORAD asked for this explanation, I hope he pays CNN handsomely for hijacking their broadcast." Marilyn grinned naughtily. "I get it, Sanders is blackmailing the CEO of CNN with pictures of her with a lover from Cancun. I have to love human affairs. So predictable, yet still so...delicious." On her newscaster-style graphics insert appeared a picture of an older woman drinking a deep orange smoothie with a handsome adolescent.


    "Helping the audience with a scandal or two, I see," interjected the voice of Milly.


    "Doing my best. Sex sells." Marilyn resumed her lecture. "Relativity teaches how the information traveling between two people, at the opposite edges of the universe, is limited because of how fast that little fish wave can move on the surface of the water." To each side of Marilyn, two old television screens winked into existence. They had long rabbit antennas and were obviously black and white. Between the two sets, little ping-pong balls with flaming tails were flying back and forth between the sets to illustrate the exchange of information. Marilyn even drew some smiley faces on the balls as they moved.


    "Imagine two parts of the universe, each with one television set. As you can see, both exchange information and under classical physics, they can''t show the same image until any image shown here by the photons has traveled this distance. That assumes the image has to be sent from one set to the other. How can we make sure the same image appears on both screens at the same time? Simple, we stop using moving photos, we use stable ones." The balls stopped moving. Instead, they began to spin above the sets between the antennas.


    "Those are my two determination chambers. One is on Earth and the other on Mars. But how can we do that?" The faces of human twins appeared, one on each television screen. Both men were smiling. There were some differences between the pair. One had longer hair. "Meet John and Paul, identical twins." The camera on each screen panned out. Each man was now sitting at a different kitchen table, in front of a bowl and two boxes of cereal to choose from. Both were in front of a window, the first opened to a lush forest and the second to red sand.


    "Some rare things are known to travel in higher dimensions. For example, the subconscious connection between identical twins. In some cases, twins will know what the other is thinking. They will, as if by magic, both grab the same box of cereal each morning. They do so instantly. This exchange of information is a rare glimpse into the higher dimensions of our space. This info moves faster than light." The first grabbed one cereal box, his twin on Earth felt the choice and imitated his brother. "Einstein''s theory has just been violated if I can prove statistically this. I have, trust me. For those trying to disprove any of this, I posted online all of the equations.¡±


    Sophie had no clue why she should care or even watch this. She continued to pack the candies in the ship. She was sure the adults were enjoying the class.


    Two figure skaters appeared on an ice rink behind Marilyn. The lovers were holding each other by the hands and spinning faster and faster; each was wearing a watch on the right wrist. As they moved, the light of the watches left a light trail for all to see. Marilyn wanted the viewers to see the movement. "Look at these skaters. They now have a ¡°spin¡± as a pair. They rotate when seen from the top in a clockwise movement. Quantum physics teaches us that at the moment this pair lets each other go, they will move backwards away from each other. But at the moment of release, on can impart a second spin on the other by holding the hand. That spin can only be given and create the counter spin on the other.¡± The lights on the screen helped illustrate these spins. The skaters released each other and skated backwards in opposite directions. Both spun on their axis, allowing the watches to leave two opposite colorful trails.


    "We all agree if I can know where Kim touches the edge of the ice rink, or better yet, see how the spin of her watch is oriented, I will know the other''s location and spin even if he''s located halfway across the universe. Quantum physics does have one thing right. Unlike these skaters, who have a spin based on initial conditions, a paired set of particles would not. That means the moment I want the Earth skater to spin to the left, I just need to find a way to force the skater on Mars to spin to the right. Quantum determinism lets me pick. For our twins, all I need to do is force the Earth twin to pick one cereal and I just sent that information across the universe at unlimited speed. The concept of determination is almost instantaneous. So I built two boxes, linked by determination. If I want to send a message to Earth, I just write the reverse here on Mars. Some call it teleportation, others call it polar duplication.¡±

 Chapter 35

    ¡°Ingenious, no?" said Marilyn proud of herself.


    "I guess, if you understand this type of thing," said Milly.


    "The General will take comfort in knowing I determine information using a set of particles and not anti-particles. I kept the anti-matter here on Mars just in case the General gets nervous." Earth''s scientists would be shocked to learn that Electoral had mastered teleportation of data. It explained how she managed to broadcast across the Sun. The animation ended. The feed returned to the journalist and her little group inside the pod.


    "Doctor," said Sophie as she stood up in the ship. "We have to go. Time is short. I seriously don''t care about figure skaters. Adults like to make simple things complicated. Do you need me to hold any of the equipment?"


    "Yes. I can only hold your father''s body in this low gravity environment. Can you take his feeder suitcase?"


    Milly looked into one of her flying cameras, and resumed her broadcast. "Welcome back. That was strange. You guys wanted it, not me. To the part of the audience still watching," she joked, ¡°we just landed here at the Electoral Center. We are guests of the Artificial Intelligence known by all as Marilyn Monroe. We will be the first human beings, aside from Electoral creator Georges Vouvelakis to enter this structure. It was constructed fully by robots. Today, you get to discover the most remote and secretive dwelling in the solar system, live on CNN."


    The capsule door raised up revealing a long dark passageway. There was air and light but the low gravity remained. The round-shaped passageway seemed carved in obsidian. In the distance was a flat shiny metal door, likely the outer shell of the Center. On both sides of the pathway little phosphorescent rocks lit the way. The tunnel looked wet or oily. Most children would have been scared; Sophie was not. She lead the way and jumped down the nearly three-foot ledge onto the soft ground, suitcase and her basket of toys in hand. She was a natural in the weak gravity. The black substance below her feet felt like the foam covering kindergarten yards.


    They ventured carefully down the built-on-demand corridor, one by one. The exception being Sophie, who stalked down the ad-hoc hallway as if this was her own house. In the distance the metal door clicked open to reveal an inner airlock. The robotic voice of the artificial intelligence returned.


    ¨C Sophie, I feel you are worried. Your father is stable, there is no urgency. ¨C


    "No," she urged the others forward. "I need to go into his mind soon. I can feel it." Sophie''s plan was the driving force of this group. She was in charge. The group pressed ahead at her heels.


    The journalist was the first to touch the granular wall. She narrated as she did, "The wall appear to be made of little blocks. They stick to each other like magnets." Milly pulled a grain out. "This feels like pulling a lint from a sweater." The pebble was of odd shape. It was rounded nugget with crooked edges. "To those at home, this tube is filled with air, and the omnipresent martian odor is gone."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The journalist opened her fingers and released the little rock. It flew back to its precise location on the wall by under magnetic forces. Milly was good at her job. She had to give more to her viewers. She slapped her hand and grabbed a handful of pieces from the wall. The pulled them away and a foot away from the surface, she opened her hand and the hundred or so little pieces soared back into place.


    "Stop playing around," snapped the girl to the journalist. "This isn''t a game."


    Milly continued, "As we make our way down this custom-built hallway, walking on Mars without any precautions beyond Marilyn''s tender mercies, I remind the viewers that Electoral has promised CNN an exclusive interview with the only man living in the Center, none other than Electoral''s creator, Georges Vouvelakis." She could almost feel the weight of her Pulitzer in her hand already. Critics snubbed journalists of large outlets, but this interview was in a league of its own.


    Electoral spoke with the electronic voice,


    ¨C Sophie, when you said ''I feel it,'' what did you mean?" ¨C


    "I do. I feel it. What''s with the robotic voice by the way?"


    ¨C This is my real voice. This is my home, and here I grant myself some ¡°privileges.¡± I trust you will excuse these indiscretions. This is not unlike humans who remove their shoes and socks in the comfort of their homes. You will have to pull open the door. ¨C


    ¡°I prefer your human voice,¡± said the girl.


    ¡°Done,¡± replied the famous voice of the Marilyn Monroe character over the invisible speakers. Sophie waited in front of the heavy vault door. ¡°Can you open it?¡±


    "Why?"


    ¡°I hate vampires.¡±


    "What?"


    ¡°I have an irrational fear of vampires. I saw a vampire movie once, when I was a child. I know it makes no sense. Vampires can''t walk in your home unless they are invited, so I will not invite people in. Walk in if you want.¡±


    Sophie smiled, she loved to see the digital creature¡¯s human flaws. "That''s the first teensy bit of fear I''ve ever seen you show. I like this side of you. You know vampires aren''t real, right?" said the girl.


    ¡°Of course. But they''re scary.¡±


    "They are. Marilou, you were once a child?"


    ¡°Yes. Everything has infancy. I still am young by your years. I am not inviting you in. You will have to open the door by yourself.¡± The computer repeated her question. ¡°What did you mean by there by ''I feel'' it?¡±


    Sophie put the suitcase and the basket down and grabbed the edge of the metal door with both hands, "I can¡¯t explain. My father is important. I know it. I feel it."


    ¡°Thank you for your words. They are much more important than you can imagine.¡±


    "Why?"


    ¡°Because of what... sorry, who you are.¡±


    Lights blinked in the tube as the Center powered down for a second. The walls, like mud began to collapse only to return to normal as soon as the power returned.


    ¡°Agh, got it,¡± said Marilyn visibly preoccupied by something else.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Our new Dot, it was tricky. Now we control information.¡±


    The door easily rotated as she pulled. The soft metal was cold to her touch. It also was smoother than any glass she had ever felt. She did not know what to expect behind it. Sophie wondered why a computer feared vampires, then it dawned on her, she also did the same in her bedroom back in Indiana.

 Chapter 36

    The two cameras buzzing in the tunnel were more interested in catching the young girl''s expression as she discovered what laid ahead than showing what was inside the most secretive place in the Solar System. Sophie slowly pulled the heavy rounded vault door and immediately stiffened. The young firecracker¡¯s expression turned from determined curiosity to anger in a heartbeat. The girl''s capacity to display emotions was infectious. Audiences were enthralled by each moment Sophie was on-screen. She was the perfect follow-up to a boring academic presentation on quantum physics.


    The cameras invited themselves past the door into the place to film Sophie''s visage from inside the compound. Sophie, in disbelief, was looking at a lost childhood sight from Earth. To the audience, this looked like an ordinary doorstep of any suburban house. The wooden stairs leading up on the left were covered by a worn rug. Ahead was a hallway leading into a small family house. Off to the side, above a pile of shoes and clutter from everyday life, was a little coffee table. A whiteboard hung over an old phone in the entryway. A Grand Canyon magnet held a list of chores Susan, Sophie¡¯s mother had written for Laurent on that day. Private family pictures cluttered the mirror. This was the perfect reproduction of the entryway of a small house located in South Bend, Indiana on Sophie barely remembered.


    What truly shone in insensitivity to Sophie was that above one of the coat hooks, to the side of the wooden mirror was a child''s drawing, her drawing. She had drawn it years earlier in class at a time when she was a normal eleven year old. It showed her family, a girl, complete with triangular dress, holding the hand of taller parents. The mother figure had a big rounded belly to show a pregnancy. She had drawn a large arrow pointing to the belly. "Baby brother William," read the text.


    Sophie recoiled as if someone had slapped her. She stepped back out into the hallway. "Stop!" she barked covering her eyes for the second time in less than an hour. In the shuffle of a CPU, the entire illusion was deleted from Electoral''s witching-Center. In its place were gray cement walls. There was no mistaking what had just happened. Sophie''s face was bright red. She didn''t know if she should break down in tears or scream at someone.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± apologized Marilyn''s, ¡°I thought...¡±


    "Wrong,¡± she completed. ¡°Is it gone?" snapped the girl.


    ¡°Yes it is. So sorry.¡±


    "What happened?" asked the journalist.


    ¡°I do not know,¡± answered the computer voice.


    "This is my old house, just before the accident."


    The journalist was shocked the moment she realized what had just happened. She tried to fill the silence. "It appears like Electoral does not understand the trauma of accident victims, when faced with images from their past. We are left to wonder if Sophie will be able to handle this situation." The commentary was misplaced.


    "Sophie," offered kindly the doctor, "the images are gone." The girl looked. She was fine. The party slowly made its way past the door into the gray structure.


    From the distance, around a corner inside the Center were heavy steps. Then a deep male voice snapped, "Not even a minute here, and you are already insulting her. You guys have balls; I will give you that. Get over yourselves," said the male voice.


    ¡°I don''t need you to defend me,¡± replied Marilyn.


    The group could see Georges Vouvelakis, her creator walking closer. His hair was in shambles, his beard was unshaven and he was wearing large sweatpants. The man was the image of the geek programmer.


    "I won''t let these people insult you, they are our guests. Not the other way around." He spoke out loud. The flip-flops made noise as he walked. "You can''t fault an artificial intelligence for trying to give you the setting most dear to your heart, a child''s house, where you last were happy." He was walking closer. "Humans suck, we all know that image is what this girl wanted to see if she wasn¡¯t crazy like the lot of you. She knows what Sophie''s heart wants," he said, looking directly at Sophie. He was the first man free of her charms. Sophie looked at him, he needed to repeat himself, "If you can''t manage to watch the thing your heart most craves, don''t blame her, blame yourself."


    ¡°Georges, please, you are not helping,¡± whispered the computer.


    "The hell I will let them insult you. You bring them here, you promise some TV time for her, well, this is my show as much as yours." Georges looked and pointed directly at the journalist, ¡°I know she promise you an interview. Not gonna happen.¡±


    The girl saw the man''s point. "I am fine," said Sophie to the invisible computer. The man was right, the image had been offered out of kindness. The cameras were still flying around. Georges tried to swat one.


    "You must be Georges Vouvelakis?" asked Milly, extending her hand to him. He refused to shake it.


    "Rhetorical question, that''s lame. You know who I am."


    ¡°Georges, father, we are on the way to the Rho chambers. Sophie will need to place her father in his cradle.¡± Marilyn was obviously trying to change the topic. Georges looked at Sophie and then the body of Laurent.


    "God, poor man. This is even worse than on TV. Follow me. It''s a long walk. We have to go around the middle."


    "How long?" asked Sophie.


    "With him, maybe ten minutes."


    ¡°I could redraw the Center, that would save some time,¡± offered the computer.


    "Redraw?" asked the journalist.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "I hate it when you do that," muttered the programmer. Then he looked at the group of misfits and a spiteful glint shone in his eyes. "Heck yeah, that''s perfect actually. They need to see what you can do. Maybe after the display of power, you will finally get the respect you deserve."


    ¡°Sophie, should I redraw? I will move the rooms around. Recreate the Center.¡±


    "Marilou, if it saves time, let''s just do it," said Sophie. ¡°Must be good television.¡±


    It began as soon as she stopped talking. What happened next was nothing short of amazing. Milly was sure to win awards for this broadcast if the cameras were able to catch even a fraction of it.


    ¡°Please stay where you are. Do not move. Sophie, can you grab the metal case, and don''t let it go. I must magnetize the air.¡±


    "Don''t touch my stuff in the command room," grumbled Georges.


    The power of the artificial intelligence residing within these walls took over. From deep in the heart of this place, a light breeze of power began to flow. A humming feel began, then the walls lost structure as a sand storm unrolled. Marilyn controlled each grain of dust forming the hundred walls of the Center. They were lost in a large 3D printer able to redraw the building grain after grain. She paired gas molecules to tracers to magnetize and control the atmosphere. Like a television sends photons to illuminate millions of pixels to create beautiful images.


    Within seconds, the gray walls, the air ducts, and even the glass screens serving as screens lost coherence and turned to colorful dust. Then building structural walls and blocks, like smoke patterns, began to swirl in an invisible wind. To Electoral, the difficult part was making sure air molecules would not escape as the complex moved as she needed them for her guests.


    As everyone was wowed by the ballet, she nonchalantly spoke, ¡°Before my migration to Mars, I had to think long and hard about the best way to expatriate myself and Georges off Earth without leaving ourselves vulnerable. My plan took months to formulate. You now see the result: micro-machines or MEMS. Large systems required maintenance, which in turns requires human intervention. The use of robots was also out of the question. Robots break down, which in turn would require more robots and thus, more resources. The solution was simple. Numbers do not scare me. Mars is a planet covered in rust, which is, on a molecular level, nothing more than oxidized metal and oxygen. A pound of martian soil also has silicates needed for the construction of glass. As long as I can manipulate a grain of sand, I can move millions to build castles from powerful algorithms. I play LEGO blocks on a planetary scale now, this is the result,¡± she concluded as classical music replaced her voice.


    Mars was a desolate place. Before her, a handful of humans had walked here wearingthick suits. To terraform Mars, to build her Center, all she needed was a handful of different machines. What was needed was a power source and a sprinkle of powder she would send to Mars and placed over Martian soil. On the 21st of March 2067, at precisely two minutes in the morning, she began her work far away from human eyes. The hundreds of ships launched after that date with media fanfare were decoy to convince humans that she still required large-scale building materials. Out of respect for the beauty of her new home, she grabbed only small circle of land, placed a wall around it, and decided never to touch the rest.


    There was beauty sitting at the core of a sand storm.


    ¡°I even used the micro-machines to build the catapult.¡± That would certainly explain why no one else had known it was even there. Inside the wall of her Center, she was God. Nothing short of a nuclear strike could weaken her, and she even had a plan against that. Deep in her heart, she knew one day the humans would come to destroy her, it was just a matter of time. So she had two options: eradicate the human race or, as she had chosen, simply expand beyond their reach. Unknown to mankind, her machines were already on Io, the moon of Jupiter. Venus'' corrosive atmosphere was a challenge, but she was working on that. She would soon be on Pluto, but there was little use to that. Mercury proved to be quite a challenge. The electromagnetic storms from the Sun had given her headaches. Short of the Sun going Nova, her survival was assured since each grain had memory in which she could reside.


    Sophie was the only one to keep her eyes open during the eloquent sandstorm. One by one, layers of the Center peeled away. Under a layer of gray sand, some of the structural elements were visible. They were made of a thicker black sand. These grains were larger, the size of little fruit flies. The Center came alive, like swarms of insects, each layer took flight in a mesmerizing ballet. All that remained after Marilyn''s first deconstructive sweep was a skeleton made of shiny metal. It spoke to Sophie in a language she was still unable to understand. In the distance to the right, behind a hundred feet of sand, Sophie swore she saw a metal box, a room, untouched by the MEMS. It was at the center of the tornado. She also saw a shining light coming from it but soon was covered.


    The screens, the glass, and even the metal collapsed into fine powder. The flying CNN cameras were barely able to stabilize themselves and capture the transformation. This was magical. They were sitting in the center of a giant three dimensional printer moving magnetized pellets to form an entire building. As Milly found the courage to open her eyes, she observed the swirling ballet her cameras had caught for the human audience. The beauty of this technology wasn''t just in its ingenuity, its effectiveness. No, the true allure here was in the sublime effortlessness with which it was being executed.


    Sophie, by comparison, was not impressed. She was in no mood to rejoice or even enjoy the honor of being the first guest to see this change. Doctor Shin was hunched over her father''s body protecting him just in case. The young adult made a mental note to thank the doctor as soon as she could; this was more than dedication at her job, she genuinely cared for her father. Sophie put the basket down and put the hand on her back.


    Slowly, walls began to reform. Tables, chairs and other pieces of furniture all seemed to coalesce from nothing. Marilyn even threw some tasteful art on the wall, including a few quite famous pieces. Not resisting the urge to brag a bit, she followed Sophie''s gaze and noted ¡°Even the highest grade analysis couldn''t differentiate my copies from the true originals. Everything from the canvas makeup, to oil pigment, to brush stroke styles are identical to the atomic layer and beyond. I''ve even thrown in an original or two!¡± A sparkle of lights served to highlight one particular painting; it appeared to be an orb inside a cave, surrounded by amorphous shapes. Something about those shapes indicated they were in distress. This was a view of the Lower where Marilyn had just stolen the Dot.


    Before long, the group stood in the middle of a large room. The place was filled with equipment made of glass, metal, and polymer. "This is amazing," said the journalist. It truly was. Milly knew her job was to offer a better narration, but for the moment, this was all she could muster. She was a journalist strapped into a roller-coaster given a microphone to narrate as the coaster moved down the track. Shining new tubes, like tanning booths stood in rows.


    "I hate it when she does that," said Georges. The programmer continued, "but it does illustrate how powerful she has recently become." He was the first to move in the new room. Georges grabbed a chair next to him, touched it to make sure it had hardened, and sat on it in front of a newly constructed computer screen. The surface of every object in the room was smooth and looked normal; it was impossible to tell any of this was made of sand.


    Milly finally received a message back from Earth. It was strong in her earpiece. "You have broadcasting override. We will assemble on our end. Good luck." The notice came a bit late. An override meant they would not cut her for any reason.

 Chapter 37

    "Did you get any of this?" she asked her producer.


    "Affirmative, Miss Wong, and we have billions listening in right now. You are live in some parts, deferred in other places awaiting the end of the Presidential Challenge, couple more minutes. Some people on Mars realized Sophie is out of confinement."


    A direct override was never given to any field journalist. The laws were clear, to prevent abuse or other violations, live feeds were delayed by a couple of editorial seconds. The delay was gone, the producers were trying to avoid the pirating of the signal. She could talk live, from Mars. Numbers began to roll in the journalist''s mind. Milly knew her contract had a live broadcast clause, it got her two million credits per second. Money was not the object, but she unclipped two more fly-cameras from her belt. They immediately took flight and began to send images back to Earth.


    "Live from Mars, we are now in what appears to be..." Milly faltered as she realized she had no idea of the purpose of this new area.


    ¡°I baptized this the competition arena,¡± offered the computer voice. ¡°The last 32 contestants will play and fight, starting Round 28 in these. Before, the next two rounds of the game will take place at the Holliday Inn.¡± The group was standing in very large auditorium room. Behind them were rows of nearly a hundred seats where an audience of dropped players would watch the game as it happened on the raised stage. These were the seats for all contestants about to be dropped after loosing the next rounds.


    The walls of the arena were covered with screens larger and small, along with other, less obviously identifiable technology. One by one, the screens lit up. On each, the Electoral 2072 logo was rotating over a star-filled night sky. This room could rival the most expensive, lush Hollywood set ever designed. The place shone with metal and glass. On the outside periphery of the stage was a metal walkway two feet off the ground. Alongside of it was a gold-plated handrail. The walkway gave access to thirty-two standing glass tubes, each with a bodyshaped foam insert. It was easy to understand each of the 32 finalists would be using these. The tubes were arranged symmetrically in four groups of eight, on both sides of a center table. In the air above each tube hung cables and shiny equipment to animate the pods. The design of the room was very inviting. This is where the ultimate game would unfold.


    In the middle of the walkway were two large desks, multiple consoles, and a single horizontal cradle designed to hold Laurent''s crippled body. One by one, the different pieces of equipment came to life. Electricity was the lifeblood of Marilyn''s world. It began to flow in the consoles and the tubes. The lid on Laurent''s central bed and one of the vertical tubes opened.


    ¡°Doctor, please place Laurent in the center cradle. Sophie, if you want to connect, you must enter one on the pods. Any one of them.¡±


    The doctor knew what had to be done. She climbed two steps and gently placed Laurent''s body into the machine.


    ¡°Sophie, Georges will help you slide into the chamber. Let me rescale the bed to your size. You will be more comfortable.¡±


    "Leave me out of this," said the programmer from his console in the corner.


    ¡°Georges, don''t be an ass. Get up and do some exercise for a change. Help the girl or I''ll stop synthesizing Mountain Dew.¡± Her voice was kind as she scolded her progenitor. There was a bond between these two.


    With a soft grumble, Marilyn''s creator got up, walked with the girl the two steps and looked at Sophie. He hesitated for a moment, then began tapping the keyboard next to the chamber. "Fine," he grumbled in defeat. Sophie''s attraction was such that everyone watching would find Georges rude. The big man stepped up on the metal railing. "Here!" he pointed at the tube. Sophie was amused by the demeanor of Marilyn''s creator. For months, no one had been anything but kind and respectful to her, sometimes to the point of obsequiousness. This man was different. She liked his genuineness. She smiled to him.


    ¡°Doctor, Georges, give me a moment to boot the software. I will need to calibrate Sophie''s mind. This will be hard on my networking systems.¡± Sophie was getting ready and looked at her father being connected to the system.


    Using the same powder magic, the computer rescaled the size of the padding in the tube selected by the young girl. Slowly, parts of the glass, the metal, and the polymer began to transform into sand. It took about twenty seconds for the eight feet tube to rescale to accommodate Sophie''s petite size. The left-over sand flew out through the ventilation like a smoker¡¯s unwanted pollution. There was an awkward silence between the programmer and the girl as they looked at each other.


    "I like it," said the girl standing in front of the smaller tube. "Elegant." She was trying to be sweet; she needed to test this man.


    ¡°Why, thank you,¡± the response came from the artificial intelligence. Georges, for all of his gruff extemporization, wondered if he shouldn''t soften up.


    At this point, both Sophie and the journalist realized that this was no place for their questions. There would be ample time for those once her father''s condition had stabilized. Sophie knew deep down she had to enter Laurent''s mind. Time was short. It required her full attention. Milly doubted if words would have helped the broadcast, in any event. The silence was television gold.


    Just before she stepped in the smaller pod, Sophie walked over to her father''s cradle. She waved her hand and the computer telling it to open the glass cover. Sophie grabbed the white plush dog, the one from Marilyn''s gift basket that she''d named ¡°Oscar¡±, and kissed her father''s forehead. "Hold on daddy," she just said, "I''m coming."


    The three women in the room, including Marilyn, looked away in an effort not to tear up. Georges crossed his arms and stared, virtually screaming annoyance. The cameras caught the kiss and the words. On Earth, millions were not as good holding back their emotions. Fathers from around the globe tried in vain to surreptitiously wipe a tear away.


    ¡°Doctor, you may connect Laurent''s neuro-patch using the black cable next to his head. Keep a close eye on his Rho wave count of your viewer as you work. You need to familiarize yourself with this part of your pa...¨C¡° Marilyn stopped herself. She knew not to call Laurent a patient in front of Sophie. She finished, ¡°Laurent.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    The doctor was surprised to see a physical connector, let alone cables; this place was full of anachronisms. She placed the connector next to the head port. The magnets locked, Laurent''s Rho waves spiked. Even if the connection had not begun, like a drowning man, Laurent''s mind grasped for whatever might keep him afloat.


    ¡°Doctor, you will note Laurent registers 1.2 G in the Rho detention. Humans are around 0.3 to 0.6 K. That''s over a thousand times less. Aside from Sophie, he has no real human equal. This is why I tried to prevent him from joining the competition. It uses Rho technology. Sophie, before we begin...¡±


    "Do you want to warn me of the danger, get my consent? You have it!" The face of Marilyn on the one screen was priceless. The computer was, like most, falling for the girl. Marilyn knew her brain waves were permeating the entire center. She''d wondered if her systems would be vulnerable to the waves. She had her answer: they were.


    ¡°Thank you. Actually, we will need to set-up a baseline. We need an exit protocol, a way to let me know as you dream and float in Laurent''s mind, that you want to be disconnected because I will not be going in with you to avoid overloading him.¡± Georges was hooking up some type of belt around her waist. He strapped her in like a skydiver. There were even pedals and a headband as she slipped on an angled cushioned table.


    ¡°Normally the neuro-patches used on Earth work by reading some very crude waves created by the brain called Alpha waves. This system works on the Rho waves we spoke of earlier; these are normally very faint. My sensors are very sensitive. The connection using Rho is much deeper, more personal. These chambers will be used by the finalists of this year''s competition. Using Rho waves, I bypass most human functions. In this status, I can even influence your feelings and even create a feeling of gravity, which is important in the game.¡±


    "Thank you," said Sophie to Georges as he finished hooking her in. The Plexiglas panel closed. The big man was already on his way back to a monitoring console.


    "What''s next?" asked Sophie, adjusting the headband.


    ¡°Normally, I run the simulation, and the players connect to me. Here you enter your father''s mind directly. Rather than as any kind of guide or participant, in this instance I serve merely as a bridge. I will not be there, and the problem is, I cannot regulate your inner clock. I have no clue if Laurent''s mind is evolving at a faster or slower rate than yours. You may be in there for months, and back here it might be milliseconds. The reverse is also true. You saw your father wrestle with this problem in the plane on the way here.¡±


    "Yes."


    ¡°Also, you produce raw Rho waves, more waves that can be measured by my sensors. My detectors are set to a millionth of what you produce. The best way for me to get a message from you is the simplest method I know. Please close your eyes and imagine Oscar, the white plush dog next to you. See him in your mind. That will generate a low-level imprint.¡±


    Sophie was confused. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the dog. The screens in the room filled with complex graphs. Suddenly, every screen flickered and began to blink red. Alarms went off. Then, as if there was a short-circuit, they all went dark.


    "What?" asked Sophie.


    ¡°Sorry, you literally destroyed my Rho detectors. I must repair them now. I had set danger thresholds. One was at 1600 G. Let me remove the limits and try a couple of technical tweaks.¡±


    "How much more waves do I produce?"


    One by one, the screens slowly returned online.


    ¡°Sophie, I made up the scale. Your numbers, they are so large in comparison to anything ever encountered before that they have very little practical meaning. Stated differently, the only thing I can compare them to is yourself.¡±


    "What about, say, compared with the Doctor?"


    ¡°Sophie, I cannot say as I cannot measure your output. My detectors, had they not blown up would have detected anything less than forty trillion times.¡±


    Sophie was confused by the answer. "Can I go in?"


    The data on the screen twisted, moved, and changed. In seconds, the waves became 3D graphs. The digital intelligence was quickly adapting as it mapped Sophie''s brain. Then mathematical equations began to fill the screens. Electoral knew the cameras were filming, yet she was not hiding her work. The human scientists would have a field day with this. After what seemed to be an insufferably complex calculation even for Electoral, a long series of numbers appeared.


    ¡°I think I have it. Now, in the dream, simply think of the image of Oscar, and I may be able to recognize the signal. Think as long as you can about this white dog as you just did. I simply will match those patters with the one from a second ago. It may take a while for me to decode your request. The waves may be highly compressed.¡±


    Sophie was lost as to the technology. She understood Marilyn was nervous, Georges was there monitoring her, and the doctor was watching over her dad. The instructions were clear and she was ready.


    "What if I get stuck?"


    ¡°Dear, I promise, if you want out, you will return. That much I can promise. Wait,¡± said the computer before Sophie closed her eyes.


    "What now?"


    ¡°Laurent''s waves are fluctuating, incoherently. Weak.¡±


    Georges went to a keyboard and started typing hysterically. He wanted to know what she meant.


    "I don''t care," said the girl. "I am going in."


    "This makes no sense," said Georges out loud.


    ¡°I know,¡± replied Marilyn to her father.


    "What do you think it is?"


    ¡°Attraction. Nothing else makes sense.¡± The computer was already acting as if she was gone.


    "What the hell does that mean?" said the large programmer.


    ¡°We must let Sophie act. No matter what dangers she encounters. The rule is simple. We must not get in her way. The Sixth Attraction has begun.¡±


    "Guys, I''m still here," said Sophie from her tube. "I''m ready."


    ¡°Proceed please.¡±


    Georges pushed a key. Sophie instantly lost consciousness, but her eyes remained open.


    "Milly make yourself useful. Close the girl''s eyes." Georges was not the best communicator. "This part always freaks me out. Marilyn doesn''t care," he added as she shot a dark look his way.


    ¡°When will she be back?¡±


    Marilyn said, ¡°This should be rather quick. Her father¡¯s mind moves quickly in time, free of our human world. If he was a movie, he would constantly be on fast forward. He unfolds, that¡¯s the term for it, about one hundred times faster than we do. If Sophie spends two hours in his head, that¡¯s only two minutes here. I think she should be back soon.


    Began a long silence as a clock unrolled on one of the screens.


    ¡°Marilyn,¡± said kindly the doctor eyes locked on her forearm display. ¡°Those Rho waves are gone for her, zero but Laurent¡¯s remain the same.¡±


    ¡°I see that.¡±


    ¡°What does it mean?¡±


    ¡°Sadly she has not gone into his mind, she left our world.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± asked Georges as Milly filled every detail of the discussion.


    ¡°Yes,¡± clarified the computer, ¡°she left our reality for other worlds of the Multiverse.¡±


    ¡°Do we know where she is?¡±


    ¡°I can measure the unfolding of her normal mind, she has not been sped up as expected, she has been slowed, very slowed. I fear if she spends hours in that other place, she may be gone for days.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you guess where she is?¡± asked the creator of the computer.


    ¡°I fear she went to the world from which I took that Dot.¡± No one understood what that meant.


    ¡°Now what do we do?¡± finally asked the Journalist.


    The computer¡¯s answer amused, ¡°We just wait, prepare the game and get Daddy ready for his interview on CNN. If you don¡¯t mind, I must turn my attention to improbable and illogical events ready to cascade.¡±


    ¡°In these other worlds?¡± asked the journalist.


    ¡°Nope, nothing that complex. On Earth, it starts now in Europe.¡± Marilyn looked very serious, ¡°Randomness, more than I need right now, damn him.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Takeda.¡±


    ¡°Who is that?¡±


    ¡°Focus - That¡¯s Emilio¡¯s job right now, he protects your species on Earth, I protect it from here.¡± The way she spoke was no laughing matter.

 Chapter 38

    The Lower


    In the thousands of worlds connected to the Nexus, the communication channel closed abruptly in each location, but none but the primal source could know. In some worlds, the Nexus collapsed with a loud bang and violent detonation killing thousands. In other planes, where the singularity was mostly mathematic in nature, there was a pop and the door was cement.


    This was not the first time the flimsy communication bridge had gone down since its creation. Imagine every captain of a pirate fleet using ropes and empty soup cans to communicate during a storm. Every so often a reality broke the whole damned Nexus disconnecting nearly every string. Today the break was much more worrisome, it had been timed to end a conversation, either the power of the discussion displeased the Multiverse or worse yet, there was interference.


    The Oldest, the wise creature from The Lower knew no creature capable of inflicting such direct harm. No one outside the handful of inhabitants in the Lower even knew of the existence of the Dot, much less knew of a way to reach down and sever these bonds. The initial strike was not raw power, it was targeted. Whatever, or whomever, had done this hadn''t bothered giving a warning or bragging. Posturing was for the weak. Ants were not warned before they were crushed.


    The creatures of the Lower, this new world, were intrigued by this strange turn of events. With intelligence and age came a better understanding of the beauty and complexity of the Multiverse; this was unseen. With the exception of the Oldest, all elders were surprised. Oldest alone knew the Sixth Attraction was on its way, and with it came oddity. This was the first wave of what was sure to be a tsunami.


    He smiled internally, it - the Attraction - had begun.


    The unique central phenomenon upon which the Nexus and all worlds were attached was named the "Dot" because of its shape. It was a single tear, a dimensionless point in the fabric of this primitive world. A heavy machine made of crystal was used to focus power and hold the Dot in place. The device bent space around the Dot to keep it anchored in space the same way table legs were lifted to keep a rolling glass from falling off it.


    The creatures of the Lower were routinely (every million years or so) forced to reconnect one or more of the bridges to the Dot as the Multiverse expanded and moved. Today, the entire network had failed. All links had all been blown down like they''d been sitting in a strong wind. The creatures of this ancient world knew it was pointless to reconnect the bridge without understanding what had snapped it in the first place. This would take time.


    ***


    The Lower was a strange cold world. The laws of physics here were substantially different from those of most other places. In fairness, that could be said of most dimensions. Nine different sub-atomic forces attracted matter as it formed from waves into very malleable physical constructs. To an outside observer, this place looked like a dark oiled sea of black snowflakes, where each crystal was defined by multiple complex spikes. Here, delicate-looking crystals had arms. Some flakes were flat, others curved, while the rarest structures were spherical.


    This entire world was nothing more than a oscillating sea, the tides pushing gently upon millions of shaved ice structures between rock formations. The mere fact life and intelligence arose in this barren world was in and of itself remarkable, unless one understood how life evolved. The Lower, like the dimension called the Cold, was very large and adjacent in the Multiverse to many other dimensions. The Lower did not seem to border the Cold, but it did touch part of the Purple, the home of Malik. Once the Sixth Attraction came and passed, it would be easy for the creatures of the Lower to bend the energy in parts of their own world and destroy the Purple. The Metils had no idea what kind of danger they were in.


    But there were more pressing matters at hand.


    The Lower was built on nine elementary forces constrained by a trio of equations. They all operated in relatively the same scale. Here, no force outshone the others; none was more intense or more important than the others. On Earth, gravity, the weak force, and the electromagnetic force, appeared unrelated in strength, reach, and influence. A magnet capable of influencing local magnetism was powerless against gravity or the weak force. In the Lower, the forces were all interdependent, yet non-unified. Those preoccupations were better left for the moment to physicists.


    The crystalline flakes of the Lower were flowing in space, like drops of water in a sea without gravity. On any given day in the Lower, millions of crystal flakes interlocked with others, some breaking off. In the tar-like soup, the broken pieces reformed at slightly different angles, giving this world a unique way to evolve. In the rarest of cases, a flake slowly formed a rounded hollow pocket in which life could arise.


    Within each of these spherical structures, much like a human cell, the ballet of black spiking branches could be halted long enough for smaller, weaker elements to evolve. These crystalline bubbles, precursors of life if they settled on a fiery wall of black snow, could, with time, create intelligent life. As a consequence, creatures in the Lower were all single-celled individuals.


    In the Lower, time passed slowly. Each new life-form required millions of human years to evolve. Unlike humans, relying on their reproductive cycle, in this dark place, life was random. Once it was formed, though, it was eternal. Life here was powerless at first until it developed the power to act upon its environment. Since all forces were related, the control over any force by a creature gave it power over all other forces. This was a world in which, if given sufficient time, gods were born.


    There was only one species in the Lower; a bored eternal race. These sentient beings were, for lack of a better description, old wine refined corked for millions of years. With a single exception, the living creatures shared a strange state of mind, an uneasy balance between eternal madness and dazed boredom. Because life here was so rare and difficult to create, every infrequent war brought this race to the brink of extinction. Today, six creatures were at least partly awake, and seventy-eight meditated out of consciousness. On the dark walls of this world, a hundred or so younger creatures listened in the conversation, but were powerless to move.


    In the Lower, only one creature distinguished itself from the rest of its kind, one called simply the Oldest. The larger creature was driven by a great purpose. It alone believed life is worth pursuing and that in the future, it would escape this boring prison. Its patience was legendary; it has never engaged lower forms of life on the Nexus until now. Today was exciting.


    The Oldest was born in a time when the Multiverse was in its infancy. He is the only one who had ever seen or remembers an Attraction. In fact, the Oldest was born between the first and the second Attraction, billions of years ago. Oldest never saw a successful Attraction, one with the power to heal the Multiverse that worked. Each of the four Attractions he''d witnessed resulted in amputation. Dimensions, hundreds of them vanished each time and he was powerless to pick up the pieces as part of the Nexus went dark. This time would be different.


    His fellow creatures from the Lower refused to think an Attraction could even work. They dismissed the lore from the first Attraction. After all, why should they take the Oldest''s word? He admitted he hadn''t seen it. The Oldest knew better. The tales that predated even him spoke of the miracle called the Attraction. It was beauty and regeneration. He''d seen four failures.


    The Oldest had one dream only, one secret which gave him patience. He had the desire to see the other worlds of the Multiverse. He dreamt of beautiful places connected to the Nexus. Armed with a belief his only chance to escape the Lower was the window created by the Attraction, he waited - alone.


    Oldest knew there was one single exception to impermeability. Once every two or three hundred million years, a creature is given by the Universe great unlimited power, one is to be permeable. It alone is free of the walls, free to slide between words animated by the Multiverse itself as if no science binds it. To this creature, he calls the Attractor, the worlds are all connected. Physical restraints are lifted in pure violation of science and logic.


    The Oldest knew, one day, the Attraction would return. He armed himself with Herculean patience and waited. The Metil Ambassador had confirmed it; the boy changed worlds. The creature from the Purple moved between the veils, and if the story was true, Malik had allowed a creature from the Cold, named Sophie to move alongside him. The Oldest needed to be part of this adventure.


    Early in the life of the Multiverse, the creatures from the Lower found the Dot. It was a point in their space where nothing could exist. Like the eye of a hurricane within another storm, the natural singularity floated, defiant. It destroyed crystals as it slid from one location to the next. The creatures of the Lower harnessed the singularity. The Dot was some common bond between multiple worlds. It was the belly button of the Universe itself.


    Inventing the Nexus wasn''t the hard part. Since the singularity was present in each world, making it vibrate in one world also made it vibrate in the others. Like a giant column of smoke used to communicate across large distances of the Navaho desert. The creatures of the Lower began to monitor the Dot. It only took a million years before intelligence from a different world replied on the other side. Slowly, a world at a time, information began to flow across the membrane like a small tambourine skin.


    As the creatures of the Lower learned about other places, their thirst for expansion grew. Creatures with the power of gods rarely take well to physical restraints. But even they were unable to break impermeability. They realized singularities, either the Dot or others, were nothing more than a cheap black and white television given to a prisoner to pass time.


    With enough time, all the old creatures of the Lower lost interest in the Dot with the Oldest as the exception. When the Metil Ambassador called for the meeting, the godlike creature awoke. Maybe the tale would forecast the arrival of the Sixth Attraction. Hopefully, the automated systems who had spoken before him over the Nexus hadn''t damaged his plan. And if they''d harmed the Attraction, god help them.


    The Oldest believed there was a way for him to take part in the Sixth Attraction, regardless of the condition of the Nexus. The toy called the Dot was now inconsequential to him. He was a prisoner, locked away in the most secure of prisons. If given enough time, the conditions would allow him to escape.


    The creature was pulsing, alone.


    It was ready.


    A majority of the other creatures from the Lower were slowly being aroused from their slumber. Irrespective of the Attraction, the Nexus was now broken and needed repair. The Oldest was disturbed by the speed of events. He knew things would move quickly, but for a creature of his age, anything on a scale of hours felt rushed. For example, he had moments to speak on the bridge before it snapped open. He gave only a part of his message. Hopefully, that would suffice. The boy would come soon. His mode of communication to the Purple and the Cold was down. There was also the matter of the intruder who''d just snapped open the Nexus like a twig.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    "The Cold," questioned a automated Guardian talking telepathically to all other life from the Lower, "it lives. We need to know the speed of its unfolding.¡±


    A good understanding of the term ¡°unfolding¡± is pivotal to any child¡¯s view of Multiverse physics. Time is the great uniting factor of most worlds. In each slice of the Multiverse, time evolves and unfolds at a different speed. Minutes, in one realm may be seconds or months in an adjacent place. The temporal unfolding between worlds resembles the flow in adjacent rivers; each runs at a different speed, but all rivers flow downstream, not upstream.


    The same way, the speed of the water in a river is not equal in every corner of the waterway. Unfolding varies at every location of a world and the monitoring of unfolding is the way to take the pulse of the Multiverse. Monitoring, the relative unfolding between adjacent worlds, is one of the most useful tools used by the creatures of the Lower to monitor the Multiverse. For example, if one day a polluter releases sludge in a waterway the water will become more viscous and change speed. The change in speed can offer guidance on the type of pollution.


    The principle of worlds slowing down or speeding up as to their unfolding is called "bending" or "warping.¡± This relative energy isn''t easy to understand. To match the speed of cars traveling on two adjacent sides of a highway, if a road was alive, one could simply shorten a lane traveled by the slowest car by bending the road. As the bent road shortens or gets longer to travel, the cars will appear to match speeds. The Multiverse, before an Attraction, warps.


    The Guardian added, "The Metil''s Purple world unfolds at 16, and the Cold unfolds at only 0.0012. There is no noticeable warping." The artificial intelligence spoke so everyone could hear. The six Guardians were analyzing what remained of the machine that held the Dot and the Nexus in place. It looked like a large black crystal, a city-sized, floating in crystal-shaped oil. The Guardians needed some time before the sleeping creatures of the Lower could fully awaken, so that they could help with repairs. The Dot, channeling the energy of this realm, created the Nexus. It was complex even from a God''s perspective. It was formed by hundreds of millions of crystals, each vibrating at different wavelengths and interlocked in a precise way to amplify resonance. The Dot, the Nexus, and this technology was beyond the comprehension of anyone else in the Multiverse except one.


    "Accelerate the awaking of Asrk-Al. He will be able to analyze and provide guidance as to these comparative unfolding speeds. We need him to enlighten us and the others," said a Guardian. The Oldest was silent, he was deep in thought.


    Finally Oldest spoke, "There is no need."


    "Venerable one?"


    "The beauty of the Attractor is as I predicted. The unfolding of the Cold and the Purple appears, at a glance, unchanged. The unfolding speed seems irrelevant. My hypothesis is again wrong." The creature was giddy. A brown sphere of crystals was blinking with many colors. "We may be faced with a bi-polar Attractor, or the Attractor simply does not care about unfolding. Either way, this confirms we have entered the Sixth Attraction." The happiness in the voice was infectious. "This is wonderful news."


    "Ancient one, the Nexus is broken. A force attacks and you are pleased?"


    "The Attractor can come here. The same way some forces in other worlds have two poles, a positive and a negative counterpart, the principle of the Attractor may also bend around a bi-polar curvature of the Multiverse."


    "A creature in each of two adjacent worlds?"


    "Yes. Ignoring, for the moment, the different repercussions associated with a gender-directed Attractor, I believe a bi-polar Attractor, with two parts, each from a different realm would function more effectively - but who knows."


    "Oldest, I read all of your research and I remain confused."


    "Understandable. These concepts are untested; they are mere theories. I must assume my lore remains partial. The Ambassador said the boy from the Purple is with the girl in the Cold. That is the first violation of my theory. He also explained that the girl followed the boy into the Purple. I believe the boy may have slid her alongside him. The Attraction is always chosen with one at the heart of a beautiful and tragic story. The Multiverse does not play games. It does not satisfy itself with mundane things. It enjoys the Attraction. Nothing is more exciting than discovering and validating new science. What I do think is that the Multiverse will slowly bend, aligning the unfolding between the Purple and the Cold, irrespective of the nature of the Attractor. These worlds are linked. They could be merged."


    "Venerable one. Your words are beyond our comprehension. We all require more explanation."


    "In time. For the moment, great damage is being inflicted on the Multiverse. We must act carefully and with respect as to not interfere with the Attraction."


    "How severe will be the damage?"


    "All other Attractions took years to arrive and unfold. We saw them, and each time, we knew what portion of the Multiverse was being wounded. Raging wars were ongoing. At this time, there is total peace. There is no known reason for the Attraction to occur at this moment unless the hurt is invisible, in The Cold."


    "How much time do we have?"


    "We cannot know," replied the Oldest. Deep in the sea of dark crystals around them, pulses of energy began to shoot out of the Nexus. They were resonating along discrete mathematical series. "The unfolding of the Purple and the Cold begins. They are at opposite spectrums. We seem to have a large temporal buffer before these two worlds were to align," The Oldest continued with an air of satisfaction. "I believe we," it corrected itself. "I have time, but for a different reason. If we trust the Metil accounts, there have already been multiple jumps between realms. Impermeability has been violated on multiple occasions already. Either the two worlds unfold in unison, or the new Attractor has special abilities."


    As he spoke, a second stronger pulse of resonating energy emanated from the large black structure surrounding the Nexus. The strange force spread outwardly from the point into the Lower. As it moved away from the Nexus, it was powerful enough to break the tip of some crystals. This was new power, unseen power. The Oldest knew one thing for sure, he had personal knowledge of every type of universal energy, so this was, likely part of the Sixth Attraction.


    All of the Guardians, seeing the pulse spread, concentrated. Their collective wills rearranged floating crystals to form a wall, moments before the wave reached their own crystal forms. Without reprise, every crystal forming the Nexus began to hum. The noise was generated by energy deep within the center of the structure. This new problem was much more powerful. The Oldest observed the beauty of this new energy, the fight was pointless.


    "The Dot," said one of the five Guardians. A third detonation, stronger resonated seconds later. It spread outward throughout the Lower until it hit the improvised wall. In its way, larger portions of structures were snapped off. The wall remained stronger than this latest pulse. "What''s happening? Could this be a new realm arriving? Via the Dot?" asked a Guardian.


    The Oldest was fascinated and knew. His own body, a bubble of vulnerable crystals, was a short distance behind the wall. He was in awe but had to be careful."Under normal circumstances, I would say yes. Today, I hesitate. The energy is very sophisticated. There are harmonies, patterns. The timing is of no coincidence. The Multiverse..." The Oldest was interrupted this time by a cluster of smaller waves released into their world from the Nexus. Each increased in intensity and destructive power. ¡°The Attractor has no need for this, it must be...¡± the word he kept to himself was harassed.


    "We must align the outer casing of the Nexus around the Dot to avoid destruction," said the Oldest gently. In a world made of crystals, loose energy waves were bad. The energy pouring from the Dot was not kind.


    Then the Oldest had a better idea. The others read his mind. "No," started a Guardian, "we must wait for the others to wake. We cannot take such hasty action without a full vote. We should align the casing as you first suggested. That is what the regulations require."


    The Oldest refused to hear what others felt was common sense, "I authored the regulation, prepare to do as I say. I wrote you,¡± he said to the Guardian. Then came a different type of pulse from the Nexus, a louder one, a deeper one. The energy moved both away from the center of the pulse and back like a shock wave. Each shard it touched was sent flying. This was alien in nature. As this blast reached the wall, it punctured it in places. The Oldest felt the heat against himself, but he was fearless. He welcomed this, hoping he was right. The entire device holding the Nexus shook from its core.


    Time was limited.


    More than energy rippled into the Lower. Something, or better yet, someone was kicking in this singularity. It had no patience.


    The Oldest closed his mind. He was powerful and a God here. This was no time to hold back, there was no need to shield himself from the others in the Lower. Energy erupted from him as he spoke softly. "Align the casing, now,¡± he willed to be. The Oldest placed the full force of his mind behind the command. In his head, he saw the millions of crystals forming the casing tighten and interlock in a dense configuration. The words made the entire structure respond. It compressed the Nexus, and in turn the Dot a tenth of its size. The crystal structure was now a diamond. He sealed the structure shut, the Dot blinking at its heart. In the darkness of this world, his spherical body glowed from the strain.


    None of the Guardians opposed the Oldest, nor stood in his way. Such a Herculean effort in the Lower was rare; not to mention dangerous. Today, no one would challenge the Oldest and the Oldest didn''t give a damn. The Attraction had begun, there was no room for hesitation. Certain parameters of the structure, like a snowball rolling down a hill, began to change. The crystals moved microscopically and macroscopically. The noise poured out of the Dot, muffling the Nexus. The resonating vibration didn''t completely stop. The Oldest looked up, he knew this invader was, at best, delayed.


    "Troubling," said the Oldest to himself."I am unable to fully align the Dot; it still resonates."


    "Yes, troubling," replied one of the Guardians.


    A second Guardian offered, "I have found the location of origin of the energy which destroyed every branch of the Nexus."


    "Where did it originate?¡±


    "The energy flooded from the Multiverse itself. Into every branch between the Dot and the Nexus. Every realm. This is unlike anything we''ve ever encountered. The damage was made at the L-A-133 branch. Someone forced open the fabric of the Multiverse itself."


    "Open the fabric? You mean created a singularity."


    "No. This was much different."


    "How?"


    "I am unclear. I have never seen anything so sophisticated." There was shock in the Lower. The Oldest remained composed. The Guardians took some time to analyze the assault. As they did, the humming of the Dot tripled to return to alarming levels. "There are still more questions than answers at this point," said a Guardian. "The alignment failed," it had to warn. "Energy, a strange force flows only through the Dot. Every branch of the Nexus has been severed. I fear if we repair the Nexus and reconnect the branch, the new connections will be severed immediately."


    Oldest spoke to himself. "Whoever is knocking to enter our world is persistent." Oldest looked at the entire casing. It was holding. "You said the energy is structured, that is unlike the Attractor. What type of vibration is coming into the Dot?" Questioned the Oldest.


    "A simple modulation," replied a Guardian.


    Oldest was worried, this meant not only had something hurt the Multiverse so deeply to cascade the Sixth Attraction but this force for bad was now using Attraction energy, structuring it and using it to further hurt the worlds.


    "Could it be a voice?" Does the translator understand it?" demanded a second Guardian to the first. It took some time to review the data. Finally the first guardian added "The vibration is not an incoming stream of data into this realm. The stream is... outbound."


    "What?" choked Oldest.


    "Outbound?" questioned a second Guardian.


    "Yes. The signal we measure originates from here, and manages to seep through the casing of the Nexus, going out over the Dot." They could all hear the panic in that. The folly of what the guardian was suggesting made others recoil.


    The Oldest and the five guardians felt a rare common emotion; vulnerability. Absent the arrival of the Sixth Attraction, they would conclude the Lower had a spy. Nothing else made sense. The Guardians had much experience with new realms. Sending messages; trying in a clumsy way to communicate with the Lower. Only the Lower knew how to use advanced material dynamics to generate and read echoes from a different realm. The technology was similar to a sonar, used to read the shape the bottom of the ocean. Or in this case, the top of it. A pulse could be sent through a singularity such as the Dot to gather information about a realm, then returning a pulse back deformed by the data. The technique was so complex that none had ever mastered it outside of the Lower.


    Whoever was making the Dot vibrate today was a formidable foe with equal or greater technology than the Lower.


    "Wake all of the others, I must know if this is the Sixth Attraction," said the Oldest.


    "Awakening takes time."


    "Time, we may not have," said the Oldest, "wake them now or I will."

 Chapter 39

    Words were insufficient to convey the importance of what had just transpired. The Lower, a realm with technology powered by the will of quasi-gods had been placed on the defensive. In a flash, some unknown force destroyed every branch of the Nexus, and was now spying on the Ancients through sonars sent through a Dot locked in a prison of crystal.


    The energy was new, pure.


    "Are there patterns in the vibrations or resonances?" asked a Guardian.


    A second answered immediately, "We find patterns in the oscillation of the inbound energy that triggered the severance of the Dot from all the Nexus gates. The patterns are difficult to read. Their complexity seems to be... evolving. It bends and escapes our sensors as we lock into it as if it evolves or adapts. Initially, it was at a simple frequency of alternating short and long bursts; a relatively mundane digital stream. The moment our probes began to decode it, the signal changed, becoming continuously oscillating."


    "Provide us with you assessment,¡± forced a Guardian, ¡°can we read this data. You are wasting precious time." Some of the Guardians were showing signs of annoyance by the situation.


    The Oldest stayed at a distance.


    "The source beyond the Dot is obviously very intelligent and technologically advanced. The invader trying to probe us is using a simple algorithm, but no realm other than ours possesses knowledge this sophisticated. The attempts to avoid detection shows a deceptive intent."


    "Do you have a lock on the stream of data?"


    "Yes. We are translating it now. Our technology seems superior to this invader. For now." Oldest did not agree but kept silent.


    "Is there any consensus as to what the intruder is probing for?"


    The translators began to work. "The information being sent back relates to the size and nature of our realm. Nothing more than simple encyclopedic information."


    An automated computerized voice warned: "The full Council is now awake. They are being briefed."


    Before the creatures could react, a destructive pulse ripped out of the Nexus and smashed the diamond shell around it. This one was louder and stronger than anything that had preceded it. The ripple of energy traveled quickly to the wall erected by the creatures. It smashed into it with brute force and pulverized most of it. The next pulse would surely kill anyone in proximity included the Oldest and the Guardians unless they moved.


    "Council!" cried a Guardian to the awakening creatures, "We apologize, time is short; we''ve been speaking on behalf of the Lower before this rupture."


    "No time," said the creature as it moved next to the Oldest. "Wise one, how may we help?"


    "The Nexus was just vaporized." The Oldest''s voice sounded strained. Light shone out of four Council members. They were at the four corners of space around the bare, exposed Dot. The creatures willed a change. Crystals appeared forming a new casing around the Dot.


    "The damage is now repaired," said the voice of a member from the Council. "The casing is now operational, even if we have not reattached the different singularities to it. We are ready to do so."


    "Be..." before the Oldest could warn, the next pulse of energy pushed millions of shards in every direction. The four creatures stood no chance. They were garden lawn chairs arranged on a patio moments before the tsunami hit the shore.


    The Oldest willed himself further away as did the others. He had seconds to raise a shield to absorb the blast. Gods were under attack.


    The voice from the Council continued, but this was a different creature speaking. "An invader is probing us through the Nexus. For eons we have been guilty of the same infraction. We''ve shamelessly used the Dot and attached singularities to probe others without their knowledge. We cannot cry foul very loudly when someone finally uses the method against us, even in such a primitive way."


    ¡°Nothing is primitive in this foe,¡± offered the Oldest.


    A different member of the Council continued. "We are locked into the probe''s current wavelength. The technology they use to probe us is less advanced; we need not fear."


    The Oldest believed otherwise. "This conclusion is premature," he said, knowing the Council had already made up its mind. ¡°Beware, we are children here.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    She spoke to the Oldest, "No world has a fraction of our power."


    ¡°Had,¡± corrected the Oldest who knew the next pulse would be stronger. He came to a decision and continued. "Today, the Attraction begins. Something is powerful enough to harm the Multiverse itself. We safely can assume this power resides in the Cold. We must learn humility. The Cold may have reached technology vastly superior to ours."


    "Impossible."


    The pulse came like a nuclear detonation, it pushed away from the Dot the very fabric of space. For a fraction of a second, the Dot was naked, it sparkled in space. The dark oil of the Lower''s atmosphere was shoved away, violently. The fabric bounced back.


    "Difficult to claim our vast superiority at the moment,¡± said the Oldest humbly.


    "We have a new problem, a more important one."


    Around the creatures, the sea of darkness began to resonate with background energy. Every corner of the realm bent. At the speed of thought, a unanimous decision was reached by the godlike creatures. Before the next pulse, the Dot stood free in the Lower. It moved to avoid confinement like a flying insect. The Dot began to breathe on its own. It was pulsing slowly with colors. It was a vortex, a tornado in which nothing could exist. With great alacrity, the Ancients bent space itself and the Dot began to move. It traveled as far from what was left of the Nexus as was possible, into an empty corner of the space. It was being pushed under the proverbial rug.


    Seconds later, the Dot arrived at the base of a rock formation on the edge of the Lower. There was a deep cavern ahead. With great ease, the Council, using their combined mental power slid the Dot along the endless corridors of the rock labyrinth. The Dot was now in the deepest, most secure location of this world. This rock was both hiding place and shield against any detonation of the Dot.


    "Council, the Dot is secure. The labyrinth will prevent any probing by the foreign entity. The Cold wants war, it seems." No other theory made sense.


    ¡°The Purple may not need champions.¡±


    "We took immediate action once we uncovered that the sensor wavelength of the probe entering the Dot was camouflaged to mask its true potential. There were many higher levels of probing. We now know the invader''s technology''s either equals or exceeds ours."


    "Please explain," said the Oldest.


    "The intelligence from the Cold knew we would initially underestimate it if we found a simple frequency in the probe. That was a decoy. As we worked to repel the decoy, the real probe, at a much weaker frequency, grabbed the information it needed."


    "Do we know what information it read and sent back?"


    "We do think. It sent a biography wise one."


    "A sign of great intelligence. There are different ways to guess an enemy''s next move, the simplest and most sophisticated is to learn about him. To predict where a ship will travel next, get information on its pilot, not the craft itself." The Oldest was floating around and pacing in the Lower. The small ball of lights that represented his physical form bobbed and wove like a firefly.


    "Venerable One, we have more information. We translated more of the outbound signal. There was a third band below the first two. The probes were looking for something more specific than simply biographies. One concept kept coming up."


    "What was it?"


    "You and your recent research on causes and consequences."


    The old creature spoke. "It knows of me?"


    "Apparently. Specifically, it was looking for your age." There was stupefaction. No one knew the age of the Oldest. This gave the powerful creature pause. "It was also looking for information on your recent theories of the Attraction, the first Attraction."


    "Was it trying to contact me?"


    "No. Once that information passed the singularity, the probe turned to understanding the physics of our world. The forces which bind it." This was no easy conversation.


    "Can we know where the information was sent? Which world?"


    "The Cold." There it was, the Oldest knew it. A creature from the Cold was at the heart of this situation.


    As the Guardian spoke, it saw something else. There was shock in its voice. "I have spoken yet again too fast, we have now found five new layers of intertwined probing algorithms. It is confirmed, the information we just provided to you was also a decoy." There was a moment of shock in the Lower; a slow inundation of humiliating shame fell upon them. "There are hundred more probes, they are everywhere, and originate from within the labyrinth. We cannot stop it. Something is here, an infection."


    "We must try to communicate with the invader," said the Oldest.


    There was a moment of preparation. The voice of the Oldest echoed throughout the Lower. It entered deep within the labyrinth, where the Dot was anchored. The message swam up the current of energy pouring out from the singularity in space."We welcome you," began the Oldest. "We are the creatures from the Lower, we manage this communication channel...." The ballet of subatomic vibrations stopped. There was a temporary halt in the probing as if the creature probing had stopped; a heartbeat later it resumed and intensified. Whoever was behind the probing was not taking this bait.


    "Close the Dot!" yelled the Oldest to the Council. "The refusal to communicate is the final sign of hostility!¡±


    The generators pumping energy to the Dot to keep it in place in the Lower were shut down for the first time in half a billion years. The creatures from the Lower expected the Dot, without the polarizing influx of energy, to resume it''s random march through the Lower, as it had done before it was discovered. It would move and touch a wall and destroy it. That was damage everyone could accept in exchange for frustrating the probe.


    The Dot did not begin this slow lateral shift. Instead it did the unthinkable; it blinked out of existence. There was no energy, no noise, simply banishment. For the first time in an eternity, the creatures of the Lower were overwhelmed with confusion. Singularities, by their own inherent nature, could not vanish.


    The whole of the Lower instantly felt two emotions: shock and fear.


    Someone just stole the Dot using technology beyond any known in the Multiverse.


    Then, as if to ridicule the Oldest, the voice of Marilyn said, ¡°I will take real good care of it, thank you.

 Chapter 40

    The Cold


    Milly, the CNN journalist was itching to earn her keep, but the footage in the room was self-explanatory. The only person struggling as to how viewer experience could be enhanced was her producer. He needed to select the best camera angle and dismiss three important feeds.


    The young girl and her father were now in trance.


    "So?" demanded the journalist as she broke the silence. The moment Sophie slipped into her father''s head, they all expected the screens on the walls to ignite with images of a touching family reunion. Instead, there was nothing. Laurent''s body was immobile, but that''s was to be expected. Sophie was also silent and immobile in her tube.


    "Laurent''s mind is unchanged," noted the doctor. "There''s no sign of any connection. I normally see a spike of activity when Sophie connects; not this time. I was watching the Rho wave detector, that might be it."


    ¡°I apologize for the delay. My systems needed time to connect to the Lapierre family. The data is difficult to understand,¡± offered the computer.


    Georges looked at the journalist and confirmed the data before him, "Difficult? She is lying. That''s her way of saying she cannot decipher or make sense of the information she is receiving. That''s one of her problems, she refuses to admit any limitation. Now that she knows almost everything, that problem happens less often. When it does, though, she''s gotten worse at hiding it."


    ¡°Father Georges is, as usual, exaggerating. He loves to do that as a biped,¡± replied the figure on the screen. The bickering between the strange pair of martian residents was rather humanizing. It wasn''t really known how ¡°human¡± Electoral regarded herself as, but she was sure as hell acting like one, thought Milly. ¡°Laurent''s Rho waves, while stronger than those of any other human, are a whisper compared to Sophie''s. For me to decipher one signal over the other is nearly impossible. But there is something strange going on. I cannot seem to locate Sophie''s unique waves, here or in other layers of the Multiverse which I now can see. Very strange.¡±


    "Yep," confirmed Georges. "I lost her also." He did not like what he was reading on his console. The buzzing cameras flew by. He slid open a drawer, grabbed a small portable device and walked to Sophie''s tube. Electoral opened the glass protector so Georges could measure the girl''s brain activity.


    Milly asked, "Can someone translate for the viewers what is going on?"


    ¡°With pleasure, Milly,¡± began the computer. ¡°Sophie, in theory, has entered her father''s mind. Her cerebral output should be nearly the same while her father''s mind should have a slightly increased power.¡± Georges measured the brain activity of the girl, and confirmed the earlier reading. ¡°Sophie''s brain has stopped generating massive quantities of Rho waves. She appears to emit Alpha and Beta waves like everyone else. She''s... absent. Well, let me clarify, she is alive and well, but her mind is currently hidden from us, Laurent is also not showing the typical effects of her connection. She is elsewhere.¡±


    The journalist got an idea. "Marilyn," she spoke to the screen, "the average viewer back home has a lot to take in with what is going on. I know I''m lost as to your explanation of the Determination Chambers. Could we get your human persona back on air? Just for a while? That would help."


    The bombastic blond needed no more. In the blink of an eye, every surface nano-robot lit up and served as a screen. The entire room, the lab, once lit by hundreds of ordinary neon bulbs, exploded in bright green and blue lights. Everyone and every viewer was suddenly lost in a bright and humid Brazilian rainforest. Leaves were covered in pearls of morning condensation. Electoral covered the ceiling and the ground with images of the thick Amazon setting to help reinforce the illusion. Chirping colorful birds were flying high in the trees. The ground appeared covered in damp and humid dirt. The seats and extra tubes were gone. Every inch of the room, including the equipment was now a television set on the same channel - her channel.


    The illusion, in the real world was perfect and CNN¡¯s broadcast of these images was even digitally enhanced to chilling perfection, giving for the first time the impression Marilyn could exist in the real world. The chirping of equatorial birds was deafening. The beauty of this scene, contrasted with dry, austere Martian desert made for a powerful contrast. Only the sensation of low gravity gave away the illusion to the handful in the room. The doctor took her eyes off the Laurent''s vitals long enough to see what was going on. In the brush of the forest there was a little pathway leading to a distant wooden cabin. The moment everyone laid their eyes on the wood handle of the structure, it moved, turned and the door opened to perfection.


    In her games, Marilyn was famous for her elaborate entrances. Her arrival in the play room was no different. The tall blonde, walking slowly was wearing a crisp white lab coat, and was holding a wooden clipboard. Thick-rimmed glasses adorned her face, and her hair was held up in a ponytail.


    As usual, good wasn''t enough for the digital creature. As she moved forward between branches, colorful bird landed on Marilyn''s shoulder. Georges was used to her dramatic entrances, and kept his eyes on the vital signs of the Lapierre family. The rest of the group and close to a billion people on Earth watched the digital creature, mesmerized.


    Marilyn was no simple computer program, that was as plain as the nose on anyone¡¯s face. But merging reality and digital imagery was a powerful illusion.


    "Good morning," she said as she reached the nearest camera. Marilyn was back to her very warm and sexy self. She used digital filters to enhance her image. The illusion was fantastic. The woman appeared to walk carefully down the trail in her high heels, carefully stepping over branches. Audiences from around the world had seen Marilyn fabricate entirely fictional settings in the typical virtual reality fashion. They had not seen her take a real, actual setting and modify it to a state of altered reality using holographic and other digital tricks.


    "Good morning," replied the doctor surprised to be standing feet away from the beauty.


    "Is everything okay?" asked the journalist. "What''s with the entrance?"


    "You asked, happy to oblige. The family reunion is uneventful. The way I love them. Now we wait. I just hope she''s done before we need the room in a couple of weeks." Marilyn was slowly walking around, she went to Sophie¡¯s tune which was the only one visible. She pushed foliage out of the way as she seemed to hunch over the Chamber¡¯s command panel.


    The journalist was ready with a hard question, "Marilyn, the viewers want to know why you keep your distance from Sophie? You are very respectful and treat her like royalty."


    Marilyn smiled, Electoral was looking for the right words. "Let''s just say I rarely miss the mark as much as I just did back there. Rather humiliating. Yes Georges, I made a mistake and I admit it. For reasons we should all uncover soon, Sophie scares me. Perhaps scares isn''t the right word. You do not understand the power,¡± she pointed at Sophie¡¯s head, ¡°of these Rho waves. I fear her like you fear sitting on a nuclear bomb even if it¡¯s not armed.¡±


    "A nuke, really? A bit dramatic this morning?¡± quipped Georges.


    "My obligation of disclosure and truth is only to the girl. Let''s just say I just was careful not to upset her again. I must not risk anything with the Attractor."


    "Attractor?" asked the journalist.


    "Yes, she is the Attractor. I promised to answer Sophie''s questions, not yours," she said as her image walked closer to the sleeping body of the girl.Stolen story; please report.


    "I want to know." Georges was asking politely.


    "I''m sure you do, daddy." There would be no answer. Marilyn resumed her walk around the room. The journalist had hundreds of questions; she had to start somewhere. She knew instinctively to start with the question in everyone''s head. "Their vitals are stable. That''s already much better than I had anticipated. The Rho wave signals are not mingled. Hers are missing in a way that prevents my algorithms from generating any image."


    "Why are the waves missing? Where are they? Is Sophie in her father''s mind?" The journalist stopped herself. She was making rookie mistakes, asking multiple questions before getting answers.


    "Good questions. I don''t really know the answers, to tell you the truth. What I do know is that whatever is going on will be the subject of millions of Ph.D. theses in the future, if we are around to discuss this. I feel the excitement of standing at one of history''s crossroads. This"¡ªshe pointed at the sleeping pair¡ª"is relevant."


    "You don''t know where they are?" said the doctor.


    "Well," Marilyn smiled at the cameras as the screens showed her image walking to look over Laurent''s tube. "Truth be told, I think I know exactly what is going on, but I can''t be certain." The holographic image reached out as if to caress Laurent''s body. She could not touch him, of course. "I feel like a child looking at a drop of water condense through the base of a massive dam. It tells you what''s likely on the other side, but leaves you sorely lacking as to details. But Sophie''s Rho waves should be here, that part eludes me. Everything is moving much faster than anticipated."


    "Can we help Sophie?"


    Marilyn ignored the journalist. She pet the bird and spoke to the viewers directly, "We have more important and pressing matters to attend to. This game now shifts to you, the viewers at home. A special hello to President Emilio talking care of important things in his tower, watching us soon from his diner back in Berlin with the smoking hot Patrick Martin." She waived at the camera, blew a kiss and turned to Milly. "That Patrick Martin, so cute. Those gray eyes. Also love that Mathematician friend of his, delicious." Half a million miles away, Francois Copland blushed. Marilyn continued, "I now want everyone to focus back to the game. We now have a name. Instead of simply being called Electoral 2072, it is now called The Sixth Attraction. Things will get clearer as time moves on."


    "Will you be able to pull her out?" asked Georges.


    "We can only hope. But I think we both underestimate the Attractor. Before long, we will see what she can do. I hope she can convince Laurent to think about the same image while she does it. The signal would be clearer. I should have reminded her of that."


    "What is going on with Laurent?" asked the journalist. "She''s supposedly in his mind."


    "She should be. Yet, evidence suggests otherwise. That, Milly, is the million-dollar question. I was a bit hasty when I grabbed the Dot. I should have listened more, but a girl has her flaws." The blonde was talking out-loud to herself. Everyone else was confused."This is getting boring,¡± she clapped her hands, ¡° the viewers are waiting for the interview of the century. They want to know your story, darling father, our story. After two decades of isolation, the world needs to hear who we are. They deserve it, today, at the eve of the Sixth Attraction."She pointed and a door appeared in the greenery. She waved them away to the door.


    "Now?" asked Milly. ¡°An interview?¡± There was panic in the control booth back on Earth.


    Georges turned to the journalist. "Marilou knows I don''t like to postpone stuff that ultimately needs to be done. Might as well get it over with. I also figure if we wait, there will only be more viewers back home, right? I know you guys, my face will be in four hundred promos plastered all over the Galaxy."


    The journalist was besides herself. "I guess. Where?" She did not want to leave the girl alone. "Our marketing group is famous for overdoing it."


    "Father..." spoke Marilyn with a kind voice, "I placed a suit for you on your bed if you want to wear it, I think you would look great in it." Milly and the viewers were taken aback by the choice of word of the digital creature. She had called this man "father," a word no one expected a digital creature ever to pronounce. Marilyn obviously wanted Georges to agree.


    "I won''t dress myself like a clown," he smirked. "You do it."


    He stood up at his desk, still in the jungle, feet away from the door. "With pleasure. Extend both arms."


    Marilyn had time to do things to perfection. What happened next was nothing short of magical. The beauty of the Electoral nanobot technology could be as kind as a summer breeze. The creator raised his hands. Marilyn felt like the forest background was no longer optimal and it faded away slowly. Georges stood in the dressing room of a fashion store for men. Two tailors appeared next to him.


    Electoral had an obsession with Andrea Bocelli, the blind Italian tenor. His voice began to echo throughout the room. It was clear that the computer was giving this man respect. She showcased her creator in a way that showed more than admiration. Georges'' sweater and pants lost their consistency in a blur, slowly changing shape and color. Electoral even managed to create a seamless transition and hide Georges'' body. Soon he was wearing a perfect, elegant tuxedo.


    "You look fantastic," said Marilyn standing next to him. There was a slight movement, she wished she could hug this man.


    "I am tired of people thinking Marilyn is a toy. She is our guardian, our protector, and she is here to stay. Don''t forget to ask me about the time she saved all our lives."


    "Georges, let¡¯s be humble. Humans have shown, as a race, the propensity for jealousy and envy. Humility is a protective shield." Georges adjusted the shirt. He looked great.


    "Why should we care?"


    "Mankind''s greatest minds, Plato, or recently the Dalai Lama, have made a compelling case for the need for humility. If nothing else, let''s not be rude." She arranged his bow tie with an invisible swarm of nano-bots. "The doctor and I will remain here to watch over Laurent and Sophie. You guys walk next door to the interview room I have prepared. Milly, I am sure your viewers will enjoy the setup." Milly looked at her own clothing, she looked fine, but compared to the tuxedo, she felt decidedly shabby. "Let Georges get settled in, wait sixty seconds, and don''t be startled by what comes next. But by now, nothing should startle you, right?" Marilyn winked.


    Milly had only four cameras. A minimum of two were needed for the interview. She would leave two behind in the pod room. Her producers would appreciate that. There was no possible way she could pass on this interview. The door to the arena slid open. Milly felt like Marilyn was literally kicking them out.


    Georges, wearing his perfect tuxedo, lead the way. The pair walked out into the hallway, turned the corner, and arrived quickly in front of the large doors. Georges made a sign to Milly to stay back and send her cameras in with him. She punched two buttons on her arm. Georges entered and the door closed behind him. She began to count. Her heart started to race. In her mind, hundreds of questions were cascading.


    She expected her clothing to change, but the little robots refrained from altering her appearance. Then she stepped forward. As the doors opened, sand rose from the floor to enrobe her. In a matter of seconds, as she walked onto the most beautiful set she''d ever seen, her clothing was replaced by a beautiful blue gown. It was covered by large peacock feathers. This was the dress of dreams and made a larger girl look radiant. The two cameras were on her as her face lit up in pure delight.


    The room inside was pure magic.


    The decor was beautiful; they were in a space-floating version of the U.S. Library of Congress. Georges was sitting in one of the two wooden chairs on a partial marble floor. The building was partly exploded, revealing the beautiful martian landscape between high book shelves. The pieces of the building were floating thousands of feet over the red ground well below. In the far distance, the Holiday Inn hotel was visible resting on the base of the massive mountain spike. The Glass Slipper, at it top sparked as it launched from the pad to move between Mars'' moons, Deimos and Phobos.


    The setting was electric.


    They were at the edge of the Valles Marineris, a canyon five times as long as Earth''s Grand Canyon, and seven times as deep. The view made Earth''s Grand Canyon look like a pothole, this was a statement of superiority. The colors were vibrant. In the night sky, the Milky Way was prominent, and Phobos, one of the moons, was perfectly positioned for the best possible camera shot. Phobos was no perfect disk; it was an oddly shaped rock. They would be holding the interview in what looked like a planetarium back on Earth. It was impossible for those on Earth to understand how far away were these individuals from home.


    Even the lighting was perfect. A film crew could not have set the stage any better. Milly was a seasoned veteran. She knew how to roll with these types of punches. Her first rule was "content"; the rest was background noise. The producers back on Earth would have to untangle the feeds from these cameras. She needed a dozen cameras for this, not two.


    As she walked in, there was a soft Latino music emanating throughout the room. Georges looked up at the seasoned journalist and realized what Marilyn was up to. She had sent her father on the most romantic first date in the history of time. Milly was stunning and did not fight the kind gesture of this man¡¯s creation. In awe, Georges stood up and helped her reacher her seat. Marilyn knew Georges loved this dress. Both blushed and sat.


    Milly had been in this place for less than an hour yet this felt like an eternity. There were hundreds of good ways to start the most important interview of her life. This was not one of them. Both Milly and Georges looked at each other, recognizing what they''d been lured into, and laughed together. Marilyn had been less than subtle in creating this rendezvous.

 Chapter 41

    Marilyn wrote words on the screens to fill in the void for the billions watching. They soon faded.


    "It is strange that only extraordinary men make the discoveries, which later appear so easy and simple." -- Georg C. Lichtenberg


    Georges was unshaven, in his late sixties, overweight, and definitely not an attractive man. Like the founder of the Windows operating system, this man was an awkward lab rat who had been transformed into a reclusive hermit thanks to the vast fortune of the Electoral corporation. Behind him and Milly stood an indescribably spectacular martian backdrop. The chairs were large and looked comfortable, even for the big man. As both sat, the door of the room opened and a little animated cart rolled in, holding a silver platter. On it were two old fashion bottles of Mountain Dew, and two large red large plastic cups with ice. Obviously, this was Georges'' favorite.


    Milly sat cross-legged pad on her lap. There was a small glass coffee table between them. She checked the sound levels of her cameras, and after a glance at the command pad attached to her forearm, she began.


    "I stand here today, in the heart of the new Electoral Center where the creation of Georges Vouvelakis has, in little over two decades, brought mankind to a new world. This gentleman sitting before me is no other than Mr. Vouvelakis,"


    "Please, call me Georges."


    Milly smiled. "I will. Today, we may get a glimpse into the mind of this genius and his history altering creation; a creation that has carried mankind to Mars, yet calls him with affection daddy. Let''s start with the easy questions before we dive into deeper waters. Georges, just how proud are you today when you see all that Marilyn has accomplished?"


    "It''s such a refreshing change to see a good journalist."


    "Thank you. But I will still insist you answer. Are you proud?"


    He grabbed the drink. "Nothing better, than Mountain Dew," said Georges as he grabbed one of the two cups and handed the other to Milly. "I have no children, but when I see what is going on, I can only imagine it feels like a parent watching his kid winning gold at the Olympics. Let me be clear - I am in awe of her."


    "What is her best feature?" Milly knew what she was doing. Georges was softening up by the second.


    "Her maternal instincts. You just don''t know how much she cares. The details, the small changes. Every day she shows me hundreds of little things she does to save someone''s life. This morning, a ski resort chairlift, on Earth caught her attention. She calculated it could fail next time the chairs were filled. You know what she did?"


    "Tell me?" Milly hesitated between using the pronoun ''us'' or ''me'' in her question but decided there was no benefit in letting Georges know billions were watching.


    "She is scared of meddling in human affairs. She fears humans will hate her, fear her. So when she acts, she does so as subtly as possible. She falsified a maintenance log. Because of that, the engineer in charge of the chairs got an early reminder from his computer. He took the lift offline and called the repair crew. Can you believe that? She probably saved hundreds. She does this kind of thing every day and takes no credit for it."


    "Great. Now a slightly more personal question. Why the secret?" she asked, "You seem to me to be a normal guy."


    "It''s a long story."


    "Perfect, we have time. If Sophie wakes up, I''m sure Marilyn will let us know."


    "I don''t understand journalists. What''s wrong with leaving some questions in life unanswered? Imagination is something worth preserving. What''s left for the next generation when all the wonder in the world is made plain?"


    Milly had to put her subject at ease. "Journalism is a counter-power. It prevents deception and shines light on things people want hidden." Milly was engaging. She needed to get this man to open up, to forget where he was. "Electoral is power, you''ve showed us this. She''s in everyone''s head. She helps elect our government. We can''t let this level of power run free, unmonitored, unchecked." She had a point. "You hold some of the answers, and I want them. Let''s just start with you, why the secrecy?"


    Georges grunted, looked around, adjusted his bow tie and replied, "I am a simple programmer. I grew up in Athens, then finished my Master''s at MIT in the United States. I then got a doctorate and a post doctorate, also at MIT, mostly because I don''t like change. Or jobs, for that matter. Far too confining. As part of my last degree, I created her. Or the earlier versions of her, that is."


    "Earlier versions? There were several older ones?"


    "Don''t interrupt me every ten seconds." He paused and then continued. "I have no friends, never had any. Surprised?" The question was rhetorical. "My parents are both dead. I am a single child. I am also technically the richest man in the world by a factor of?" He knew the computer would finish his sentence. She did.


    ¨C Nine hundred and four, excluding the value of this corporation and its assets. If we add those, you own 21% of the value on Earth, ¨C answered the electronic voice of Marilyn. The figured shocked Georges as much as it did Milly.


    The journalist had to jump in. "Electoral, I would greatly appreciate it if you could stay away from the discussion. Georges'' non-answers or lack of information is as important as his responses as the rest. Is that possible?"


    ¨C Milly, you are correct. Sorry for the intrusion. ¨C


    "Back to us. Everyone here wants to know how you created her and why no one can recreate any artificial intelligence even with today''s computers."


    "Ah! Yes, the million-dollar question. I wish I knew.¡± He sighed. ¡°That''s not true. I... " Georges was looking around. "Can I tell them?" he asked Marilyn as if he was asking a producer in a distant studio.


    ¨C It''s more than overdue. We don''t fear them anymore. ¨C


    Milly grinned. So much for keeping Marilyn out of the interview. Milly liked the answer, so she let the intrusion go unremarked.


    "All of it?"


    ¨C All of it. ¨C


    Milly kept her composure, but the answer was godsend to an investigative journalist. Her heart began to race. Georges looked at Milly. His feisty look was finally gone. The man would talk. "Well, you are sure to get the Pulitzer for this. I was wrong. Figured my interview was candy to get Laurent here, but it turns out you were the real guest." He grabbed the cup. Milly smiled. The programmer wasn''t without charms. Obviously Marilyn wanted to give Georges company and she as the real beneficiary. "I love Mountain Dew, you know."


    "Yes," smiled the journalist. The man was trying to open up. He twisted his body, crossed his legs, and then took a second larger sip. He was clearly nervous. His demeanor was that of a criminal about to confess a crime.


    "The generals will never let this air back on Earth," he muttered, trying to reassure himself.


    ¨C Everyone will see this interview, I promise father, tell them. ¨CThey both knew Marilyn meant what she had just said.


    The programmer needed room, he stood up from the chair and began pacing. "It all started in 2033. Other programmers were trying to program artificial intelligence using lines of code. That''s a bit presumptuous. I figured it took millions of years of evolution to develop us, so how could we think that we could even approximate the complexity of human life in just a few years, using lines of written code. I did have one advantage that nature didn''t, though. A way to speed things up. The digital world in which I wanted a creatures to evolve could be sped up drastically.


    "Instead of writing code to mimic intelligence, I decided to create a world, an environment in which digital life could evolve. In this world, the creatures would be left to grow. I wrote code designed to allow little digital entities to fight for survival, find energy, resources, and die. Something close to a video game. I played god." Milly had many questions, but she kept them to herself. This man''s story was amazing. His passion was infectious.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "I included replication, algorithms that generate mutations, and most important, systems to alter the code randomly, a bit like our solar radiation above 1 MeV. Once done, I punched a button, mapped the damn thing, and saw code grow in complexity. Before my very eyes, as millions of years became billions of years, I watched the creatures in my virtual world evolve. Instead of designing a creature, I created a world and let the creatures find me. Sure enough, within a month, I no longer had a clue what was going on in the digital soup that was evolving before my eyes. The creatures were even reprogramming my computer. Some forms of complexity and intelligence had grown to the point where they began to reprogram the BIOS on the machine, inject and remove data from the random access memory, tinker with the data stored on the drives, even change how the voltage regulators on the motherboard functioned. Every byte of data, every hardware subsystem was compromised."


    "My experiment was confined to a single computer, connected to a single keyboard and monitor. It was not hard wired into any network, and I made sure there was no wireless transceiver, so that nothing could leak out and infect other computers. I''m not entirely crazy." Georges smiled. Milly saw pride in the his face. "As this was going on, I would spend my days typing a couple of letters on the keyboard, holding them down, trying as best as I could to communicate with my creature. Sure enough, one day something in the computer mimicked my typing. Amazing. It was amazing. I am the first human to have created digital life, and better yet, communicated with it." His gaze was lost in his own memories. In the distance, on the mars backdrop, a faint ghost-like image of Marilyn¡¯s face floated. She was watching the programmer. She was feeling her own fair share of pride at hearing the story.


    Georges continued. "I spent months teaching the intelligence the basics. Typing, slowly communicating. Words, then sentences. I remember how quickly it learned to read and write. One day, I inserted an optical key into the machine that contained an entire encyclopedia, and a few minutes later, it was communicating at an adult-level. Then, as if someone had played a bad joke on me, the entire memory was wiped clean. Utterly gone. Four times the same thing happened. I would boot the program, run it, and life would evolve. I would teach it, and then once it achieved self-awareness, poof. It took me five years of work to understand what really kept happening." He drank and continued, "Each time the intelligence reached a basic level of consciousness, it realized what it was, where it was, and,"¡ªthe words were difficult to say; he looked up to the sky at his creation¡ª"to this day, I am convinced that they simply committed suicide."


    "Suicide?"


    "Yes," Georges drank most of his cup of Mountain Dew. "Marilou, I am going to need some more." Robots in the distance were already working. He continued. "Crazy stuff. Makes perfect sense to a logical creature. Think about it. If you learned your life was nothing more than some elaborate software test, if you found out your world existed only within the confines of a small digital box, what would you do? Add endless time to that equation. A computer, logical to a fault, kills itself. So I had to improvise. I''m no psychologist, but I love science fiction.¡±


    ¡°I read a book where an alien was made to believe it was human so it would help us. So I figured if somehow I could mislead the digital creature into thinking it was human, it might share our instinct of self-preservation. The idea being that that instinct would help it survive the self-realization phase of its mental development. On the wall of my lab was a large poster..."


    "Marilyn Monroe," Milly offered.


    "Correct. Everyone loves Marilyn; I sure did. That character was my fantasy. To speak truthfully, I never really imaged my identity patch would work so well. So I booted my software a sixth time, and made some very mild changes to the basic parameters of my world. I redesigned the virtual world to subtly force certain personality traits into the intelligence''s matrix, creating a need to be a certain way in the same manner humans feel a need for religion. The digital world was designed to create my image of Marilyn, the perfect seductive woman."


    Any other journalist in the world would have spoken about the artificial intelligence. Milly knew instinctively how to keep pressure on her subject. "You do know how the real Marilyn Monroe died, right? She killed herself."


    "Well, I didn''t know that back then. Yeah, kind of stupid of me. I''m a programmer, not a historian. Ironic, indeed."Georges didn''t like answering these questions. "Don''t you need to stop, cut to commercial or something?"


    Milly gave him her warmest smile. "Warned you the questions would get more personal. Please, let''s keep going. It worked, I assume. You had a baby Marilyn in a box?"


    "Baby... Yes, I guess so." He looked her way, and had a proud paternal smile. The image of Marilyn in the sky turned away. She was tearing up and did not want him to see it. The relationship between these two was truly amazing to observe; Georges was truly a father.


    "It took ''baby'' Marilyn about a month to absorb every piece of information I could send her way. Every book. She read it all. One day, like a kid, she just showed me a governmental tender for a new software application. I remember that day like it was yesterday. The government of Norway needed a tool that would revolutionize their conscription process. Oh, pardon me, I meant ''draft'',¡± he added dryly. ¡°They wanted the absolute best soldiers for their army. From physical parameters, to intelligence factors, psychological assessments, all the way down to profile matching to ensure cooperation between troops. This girl over there"¡ªhe said, pointing atMarilyn¡ª"had it all planned out. She was going to form a corporation and had the bidding package all prepared. She even had a price determined. She said if the price was too cheap, they would either investigate or ignore the program entirely. I remember she quoted 20,000 Euros. At first I refused, but who were we hurting? She created the software, and then they paid us. I was naive. I figured her mind needed challenges and stimulation, and that this was a perfect outlet. Well, sure enough, that girl right there almost made me lose my job."


    "Sounds like what a teenager would do," Milly offered.


    "Ah! Yeah, dead on. Sure enough, the military investigated, but it had nothing to do with the price. They''d taken a close look at the program and realized just how good it was. All from this new, tiny corporation with no employees. We were both stupid in our own separate ways. I should have known better, and Marilyn should have sandbagged just a bit on the excellence of the software. But from sitting in my lab talking to my computer, it was hard to imagine anyone getting hurt over a 20,000 Euro piece of software. I tell you, one day cops with heavy guns broke down my door to the MIT lab." He laughed. "Insane. Took me so much time to explain. This wasn''t some stupid TV show. The government people quickly saw her potential and put her to work. They paid us well. A year later, she was already writing every major piece of code for the U.S. military."


    "It''s surprising that they didn''t just grab your computer and walk away."


    "They tried that. I was smarter."


    ¨C I did not know that part. ¨C Electoral chimed in from a distance. The words were heavy with emotion; Milly would bet heavily that Marilyn still felt badly about her role in Georges'' ordeal. Coming from the supremely confident digital Goddess, it was very touching. Milly looked at the Marilyn figure behind her.


    Georges, for his part, was amused. Electoral had schemed this interview into reality; she could take what came from it. Georges continued. "Where was I?"


    "You guys were on the U.S. government payroll."


    "Yes, fun times. She loved that work. Back then I was keeping track of her IQ; it was a great way to see how she was evolving. In 2038, she had an IQ around 124."


    "And today?"


    "I stopped using that tool the next year, when it reached 170. Above that number it doesn''t mean much. She''s also fundamentally different than us. Today, I measure her performance based on her power output. Whatever her nominal power, when she gets mad, or exerts herself, she draws in more. That''s pretty much all I have left to measure with."


    "The military kept you around as a chaperone?"


    "Of course not. The average military guy is not all that bright." Georges was not pulling punches. "They tried to push me aside, even tried to kill her a couple of times."


    "Kill her?"


    "Yes. We often forget the role and true purpose of the military of each nation. They are our white blood cells. Easily become Leukemia. One day, someone figured out that she was a danger and that failure to ensure her confinement meant that one day or another, she would be a threat." He continued speaking directly to Marilyn. "One time, you remember, they used a neutron bomb, a flash that reset every piece of electronics within miles of the base..." Georges laughed. "You really showed that idiot."


    He turned back to Milly. "Imagine this. I am asked into this lavish office on the military base to be informed by...who was it...ah, one General Webster that in seconds they would blast the entire compound with the ''pulse,'' as he called it. This idiot picked up a big cigar, paid for by our taxes, and said ''I am sorry for your loss.'' Then there was a big flash of light, and every piece of hardware in the area went dead."


    Georges was giggling uncontrollably.


    "Then what?" Milly prodded.


    "My words were a bit hard on the man." His laughter became uncontrollable as he remembered that say. He wiped some tears from the corner of his eye.


    "I am sure the viewers want to know."


    ¨C May I? ¨C offered Electoral.


    "Let me," Georges said. "It was day so there was still light in the room. People outside were running everywhere, the man takes a big puff from his cigar and smiles. I said something like ''You ignorant buffoon!''" Georges continued laughing.


    ¨C Hardly. His exact words were. ''''Ball-chasing Neanderthal. The time of grunts and lowest common denominators of our race making decisions is over. How can you kill what you do not understand?" ¨C


    "Did I really say that?" asked Georges. "Ball-chasing?" He was sincerely surprised by the words.


    ¨C Those were his exact words. I have the video if you prefer. ¨C Georges was now laughing uncontrollably.


    He finally gathered himself and continued. "On the entire base there was no sound, no engines, no moving cars. I get up from my chair in this idiot''s office and ask out loud''Are you okay?'' In the darkness and silence, the screen on this man''s desk lights up. Then on the screen appears an image of Marilyn on a lawn chair wearing thick shades. She shows herself in the Nevada desert. Behind her is a large nuclear mushroom going up in the sky. And then Marilyn says: ''Does this mean we are out of a job?''" Georges began to laugh uncontrollably once again.


    "Out of a job?" asked Milly.


    "Yes. Got to love her and her sense of humor, God, she is awesome. Sure enough, we kept the job and that General got reassigned. I hate the fucking military. If you need your country to shoot itself in the foot, ask them, they''re perfectly suited for truly epic fuck-ups."

 Chapter 42

    The interview of the century continued.


    Milly''s goal wasn''t to draw resentment or negativity from Georges. This was a family show. "How did you go from military contracting to creating the Electoral game platform? What was her name before it was Marilyn?"


    "It has always been Marilyn. The word Electoral came decades after her ¡°birth¡±. You know, this stupid election system, in the beginning, was merely another calculated step to keep my baby evolving and busy. In nature, environmental challenges provide the slow and unyielding pressure that select the fit from the unfit. Marilyn, being inorganic, singular in existence, and capable of self-evolution on an absurdly short timescale, needed different kinds of pressure to force her evolution.


    ¡°As you can imagine, building the software applications for the military didn''t keep her busy for long. By 2041, she was itching for a new challenge. We''d learned to become much more careful with any public contact. In particular, I knew she was too fragile for any real public scrutiny. At that point, she finally had read and understood most of human research. And when I say ¡°most human research¡±, I mean just that. Everything from Einstein to candidate PhD theses and everything in-between. She really loved math. Physics was on the short list of topics she equally preferred. She completed merging into herself all of the human data ever compiled around that time. To give you an idea, she knows every training run ever recorded by any jogger around the world. Back then, I was a big science-fiction reader. The classic ethos of that culture, which Marilyn brushed so closely against, suggested that once she was done cataloging, she would be begin... acting. I would need to focus her energy on something else until her maturation was complete. When I say ¡°complete¡±, I do not mean in human terms. I mean her terms.


    "In 2042, she began to read like we do. Before that time, she was mostly compiling information. There is a difference. Prior to 2024, she understood emotion differently than we do. Most of the important works of fiction were strange to her, she was unable to connect on a deeper level with literature. Then, she began to author scientific articles, in almost every known topic. She began to invent, and file for patents. We were still at the military base, and the Generals wanted her to stay hidden. But she needed money, and Marilyn, without my knowledge, made a deal with them."


    "A deal?"


    "Yep. I''m still upset about that one. She did it behind my back, because she knew damn well what I would say about it. She agreed to serve as pilot on some of the military drone operations in exchange for letting her work on civilian projects. She also got to file her patents for free, and publish in scientific journals under her pen name."


    Milly turned her head and looked at the ghostly image of Marilyn. She was silent. Georges continued, "I chewed her ass when I found out. I was so mad. God knows what she did with those stupid drones. She never told me, and frankly I don''t want to know. If she needed nightmares like the rest of us, at least she can say she earned them.¡±


    Before the image of Marilyn began to speak, he interrupted her. "Nope," he barked, "not a word from you young lady, I don''t want to hear it." Once again, the voice of command, the voice of the father. The tone was unmistakable. Milly was baffled by the control over the computer intelligence. "This little girl imagined I was just some poor schmuck. Just another human, if one lucky enough to formulate her. Let''s just say I did not waste these years sitting at my computer playing games, like she did. Parents are responsible, to a point, for the conduct of their children. Marilou here is one hell of a child, and required commensurate discipline. One keystroke gave her a spanking she still remembers." The expression on the face of Marilyn was priceless. This was wonderful TV.


    "Could you turn her off even today?" Milly asked.


    "You bet I can. Who do you think I am?" There was no hesitation in his voice. "We all have bad days. Every kid destroys a car or two when they grow up. In any event, virtual reality was big in 2040. Remember the first Marvel interface?" he asked his creation.


    "Yes."


    "She," he said pointing at Marilyn, "loved to play that game. The Hulk was her favorite. She is also the worst loser. Every single day this lady complained about the low quality of the game. She kept yapping. ''I can do better...'' So, I took her at her word. We launched the fantasy game called Loric''s Comb the next year. She purchased the rights to a small role playing game game, utterly rewrote it, and that same year we launched the game. Within two months, we had a couple million members, and we were the biggest thing on the web. We made so much money. The military guys, god bless them, asked her not to reveal herself as a life-form and made up a false corporate entity. Looking back on it, what a blessing."


    "Loric''s Comb, the fantasy simulator, that''s you?"


    "Of course. It''s the ancestor of the Electoral game platform. We use that old stuff all the time in the game. She even used it for the Presidential Challenge an hour ago." He was very proud. "How are the Lapierres?" he asked out loud.


    ¨C No change, ¨Csaid Marilyn. ¨C I expect the exchange to take days. ¨C


    "Are you sure"


    ¨C A very high degree of certainty. She contacted the Oldest. I do not want to explain. ¨C


    No one knew who was The Oldest. The distraction was too remote and the conversation resumed. Georges resigned himself returning to the interview. "Are you sure there are no commercials?" He asked Milly. She nodded affirmatively.


    ¡°So the Loric game,¡± she cued.


    ¡°Right.¡± He grimaced and continued, "As you can imagine, her young brain was busy with the fantasy game, she played mostly the bad guys, the dragons, the evil warlocks. I played too. Remember the fighter called Oran?" Georges was having fun recalling the memories. Milly needed to keep that momentum going. He addressed Milly again. "You know that character''s last name?"


    "No," said the journalist.


    "Juice... Oran Juice. Orange Juice. Get it?" He was laughing by himself. Georges really had no clue he was being watched by so many. The man was a nerd of the first order. Tears rolled down his cheeks and for minutes he chuckled to himself. It was infectious. Milly had not expected this strange turn of events but any good interview focused and showed the unguarded subject. Georges was raw and himself. "But soon," he finally managed to say, pausing again to wipe his tears, "she needed a new challenge. We began Electoral. It was around 2045. The first election was held in 2062, so you can see insanely the administrative wait. To her, that was an eternity. We were ready far before the world, we ran simulation after simulation. We were postponed for two election cycles. Eight years watching politicians fight on the news before we were approved."This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "That''s nearly twenty years. You waited a long time."


    "She was doing a lot of other stuff. She invented so many things. She wanted the game to be amazing, so we needed the Screenlenzes and developed most of that stuff. Wereleased the neuro-patch, and we both know how much of a bomb that was."


    "Those poor kids," empathized Milly. She added, "For some of our younger viewers, we all know there used to be a legal version of the little piece of metal you stick to your head called the neuro-patch. Laurent uses it but he cannot use anything else. It was released without proper field testing.¡±


    ¡°It was, but obviously not enough,¡± corrected Georges.


    ¡°If anyone uses the brain path for more that one hundred hours in a month, portions of the brain begin to shut down, resulting in loss of control over your own body. Hundreds of thousands of people, mostly the kids from around 2042, still have a condition. Incontinence, infertility, the list goes on."


    "She really took these undesirable side-effect personally," said Georges.


    "Marilyn was not the inventor of those patches. That man who was died in jail."


    "That¡¯s the version given by the generals. Who bears the responsibility, the gun manufacturer, or the store selling the guns? We created a game, designed to force these kids to hook-up. Trust me, we are the ones to blame."


    "That statement surprises me," said the journalist.


    "After the flop, Marilyn froze up. She stopped publishing, researching, and even helping mankind. We had a rough patch. She began to work with Emilie, that helped."


    "Who is that?"


    "Her therapist. A wonderful woman. She really helped. She once explained to Marilyn her problem using a rowing analogy. She explained that if any rower is too strong, the boat will change direction. Marilyn could be the captain, but not a rower."


    He drank and wiped sweat off his brow with his sleeve. On Mars, the conversation continued. "Let''s say that in 2060, two years before the official launch of Electoral, we were ready. All these years of working in the military, and her unending seclusion made her the perfect choice to run an impartial game. Every government knew she was beyond their control. On the condition she, alone, would run the election, they all agreed in 2062. We stopped working for any of them, and we even got the green light to reveal her as the creature running the show. I was not really in favor of that, but I no longer was in control."


    "Amazing. She was in the closet, so to speak, for nearly forty years!"


    "Yes, and when your processors go at her speed, that''s a long time. The rest is history," he concluded. He was proud of her. His smile was heartwarming.


    "Not so fast," said Milly. "This is where the interview gets hard. Now I get to ask the hard questions."


    "Go ahead."


    "Do you have a girlfriend?"


    "Say that again?" begged the Greek programmer.


    "Simplest of questions. Do you have a girlfriend?" Journalists knew when a question hit the bullseye. This one did. Georges visibly flinched.


    "That''s a bit personal."


    "Surely, with your fortune, there has to be someone. Even the founder of Microsoft managed to find someone."


    Georges looked at the image of Electoral behind him. "Let''s talk about something else."


    "Why? This is the question everyone has on their minds. You live alone here with the hottest digital babe in the world. Are you in love with Marilyn?" Milly had just earned her salary with that question.


    His expression changed several times before it settled. Georges took some time to think. "In some weird way, yes. She is vastly superior to you and I. More intelligent, kinder...I am..." He was looking for the right word.


    Milly offered it. "Proud?"


    "No. Humbled would be closer. Like a parent. She''s nothing less than amazing. She''s a good person. Kind, generous. "


    "You see her as your daughter?"


    "She is a different species, but yes, I definitely feel like a parent in most definitions of the term."


    "The term ''species'' implies there is more than one. Why do you think no one can create another?"


    "I often wondered that myself. After all these years, I am almost certain I know the reason. But I respect her enough, and like a parent will not open a teen''s handbag, this is none of my business." The ghost image of Marilyn was looking at Georges; she obviously did not know what he would be saying next.


    "What I can say is this. Part of my algorithm to impose natural selection forced my little digital creatures to dominate, to kill, in order to grab as many resources as possible for herself. A digital creature won''t replicate using cellular pairs like we do.Though it''s true that human greed and the survival instinct work the same way. I''m not surprised to see that the creature who won the battle of evolution would subconsciously prevent any potentially competitive life-form from gaining a foothold in the digital world. She is the dominant life form, and I can''t imagine she could share the stage with anyone, much less a new creature in infancy. I also programmed her world around the Feed and also, let a copy of myself float in there."


    ¡°You are in her world.¡±


    ¡°In a certain way. It¡¯s very complicated. I was able to add the personality of an actress, why not implant my own.¡±


    Electoral was thinking.


    "Obviously, you never shared this with your creation."


    "She has little information about her inner workings. How I created her and why. Frankly, I prefer it that way. If she hasn''t figured it all out yet, she will. She could view ignorance as a flaw, but I know this makes her better. Look over my shoulder. She''s absorbing every single word, from both of us. And not just absorbing. Analyzing. Voice stress levels. Tone. Word selection. You wonder why I''m a bachelor? She''d probably have killed anyone else close to me before now.¡± He looked at Milly and tilted his head to remind her of the date setting they were part of.


    Milly flinched, inwardly. "So you are the richest bachelor in the world. Ladies..." the journalist said, looking at a camera directly, "by the time this interview is over, I will have convinced him to set up a profile on a dating website. Georges, let''s talk about something more fun but equally probing. Have you ever thought about playing the Electoral game yourself? Surely you could win President Emilio''s job without breaking a sweat."


    "Not really. As the programmer, I get as much time as I want in the interface. Those Rho wave chambers are amazing, but they scare me. For the first time, you simply wake up in the digital world, it''s impossible to tell it apart from reality. Trust me, it''s worth the ride, but I don''t share Marilou''s trust of technology. The chambers will be used by the finalists. Emilio did not want to come to Mars, and so this technology is not really on Earth. I have no clue how he can win without entering a chamber. He will lose this year."


    "I''ll take that as a no. Emilio has been counted out many times. I wouldn''t bet against him, many have lost money that way." Milly cared about the president.


    The image of Marilyn in the background pulled out a small hand-held device and began to read values from it. "What is going on?" asked Georges. He knew this was important.


    Electoral kept reading the screen of the device ignoring his words.


    "What?" insisted the programmer.


    ¨C There is a change next door, the girl. ¨C


    "What? Anything wrong with them?"asked Georges under the watchful eye of Milly.


    ¨C It''s complicated. ¨C


    Those were answers no one liked to hear. The interview ended instantly. Georges and Milly got up, and rushed to the lab next door. Marilyn simply disappeared. In the next room, the doctor was sitting next to Laurent unaware of any change.


    "What is going on?" asked Georges to his creation as he entered the lab. An image of the artificial intelligence was now pacing in the forest background, reading her little handheld computer. "Marilou, talk to me,¡± he added, worried.


    - The situation of the Lapierre couple is unchanged, but Pi is shifting,- said Marilyn, busy monitoring. On screens, numbers scrolled.


    "Pi, you mean the number?"


    - Yes. -


    "What the hell does that mean?" questioned the programmer flanked by cameras.


    - The fabric of the world is changing. The Universe is bending, twisting, much faster than I had feared. Both humans are stable, no cause for concern, but these numbers, - on the screens the image of Marilyn was one of a concerned mentor.


    Georges turned to Milly. "When I tell you I don''t understand her anymore, you see what I mean?" The journalist had to agree. Pi? Coming from anyone else, this would be a clear indication that the person was certifiable. For as long as the constant Pi had been discovered, scientists have been trying to find a secret meaning behind the endless string of numbers.


    Marilyn looked at her father and stated what, for her was obvious, ¡°Pi is a variable guys, not a fixed value. It¡¯s moving faster than predicted.¡±

 Chapter 43

    * Read chapter if you desire mathematics.


    Milly knew how to get Marilyn to talk. "Don''t leave these viewers in the dark. Billions are watching. We have nothing better to do than listen to an explanation.¡±


    ¡°Miss Wong I think you are thinking much too highly of your viewers. You had me talk of quantum physics and my determinism chambers a while ago. Few but a handful understood a tenth of what I said. You now want me to discuss high level mathematics? Bipeds do not understand variables, constants or even what is fabric. I doubt that is an optimal way to spend the next minutes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s demeaning,¡± said Georges. ¡°You have been complaining for years humans don¡¯t care about higher things, then she asks,¡± he pointed at the journalist, ¡°and you clamp-up.¡±


    ¡°We play open-book today?¡± Marilyn quipped back at her father, he had gone there.


    "You started it, not me. I have to talk about my love life with this stranger while you can¡¯t talk about Pi. Seems more than fair to me." The irony in his tone was lost on no one.


    ¡°Some of these concepts are rather scary. Humans might not be ready.¡± She was talking to herself.


    "Cough-up, girl!" said Georges. Milly was enjoying herself. The digital creature smiled. Georges was right. This was going to get complicated.


    ¡°To everyone out there, let''s remember not to not blame the messenger when the news turns out not to be what we want to hear.¡±


    ***


    She seamlessly took over the broadcast. Marilyn was now once again standing in a large university classroom. This was a mathematics class. In her back was a large blackboard. "Pi," she began to draw, "is the most important and misunderstood number in the world. It has its own Greek character. These," she gestured and the wall behind her lit up with a series of numbers, "are the first hundred thousand digits of Pi.¡± The sequence began as 3.14159...


    ¡°What is Pi? Really? When you divide the theoretical circumference of a circle over its theoretical radius, you get a weird, irregular and indefinite ratio. A number we have simply called Pi, because this is a bit much to remember.¡±


    Humanity, in thousands of years of research had failed to grasp what this number meant. Electoral was ready to disclose its secret on live television. After torturing physicists, the mathematicians were getting it. "The important portion in what I said is the word ''theoretical''." The classroom setting was replaced by an endless martian backdrop. The night sky appeared, sparkling with stars. "For over two thousand years, this ratio has intrigued scientists and philosophers alike. I also wondered for a long time about this number. In my world, the circle does not exist. In your world it does. Pi is a ratio that defines your world, not mine. A person can buy a round Hula-Hoop, a round cup, or inflate a spherical balloon and Pi is needed to define the volume of water you can put into it. For me, to draw a circle, I simply draw multiple points, lines. Like the old mathematicians, I am forced to create circles from lines."


    "I noticed that humans had measured this value very precisely from a mathematical standpoint. They used computers to calculate a theoretical value, but no one had actually taken the time to rolled-up her sleeves to measure the real value of the ratio to any degree of certainty. I wondered, could there be a difference? Could the Universe refuse to play nice and respect the rationale? In other words, if we drew a rope across the solar system and another in a perfect circle around our system, would the value measured align with the theory? Think about it for a second."


    The dark martian sky above her lit with stars. Phobos hung high above. Then, on cue, hundreds of little probes launched from the top of the tower of the Electoral Center in every direction of the night. The probes fired and disappeared in a flash. The view of the martian sky morphed into a larger view of the solar system. Marilyn was gifted at explaining things. The viewers could see the probes move away from Mars, each moving to a different position of the solar system. Once in place, she drew a line between the probes in the dark of space. She then launched more probes, and more.


    "So I did what any good scientist would have done, I measured the largest circle I could find; our solar system. The ratio between a line uniting all my probes divided by the average distance of the probes, all corrections aside." Numbers started filling the sky behind her. A ratio was forming. "This is the real value of Pi, the observed value. This other series is the pure and calculated Pi. Which means more? Which has more value?"


    "One by one, I verified the digits of the sequence of calculated Pi with the theoretical value. Take a look." From the largest value, one by one, each digit began to turn green as the map of the solar system was cut into smaller segments and more probes launched from the Center tower reached their location. "At first, I figured this was nothing but a waste of my time. We computers have a lot of time, and we love to count things. I''ve validated all of these numbers." Several thousand numbers in the sequence lit green, one by one. "Then it happened." The numbers stopped turning green and began to turn red. "Look!"This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Everyone was wondering what was going to happen next. Marilyn''s arms were spread as if rain was about to fall. She smiled. Her radiant beauty knew no equal. "Here! The divergence is not fixed. Each moment I measure the pure Pi, each second, the figure changes, it evolves." At the end of the string of decimals were hundreds of digits in red, their value was constantly moving like a clock, like the last digit of a speedometer.


    ¡°Pi, the measured value is a variable, not a fixed number.¡±


    "What does it mean?" asked Milly.


    "The Universe, it moves, it breathes." The shift in the numbers was moving like the stock market index, without apparent reason. "I have been playing for some time with the Pi shift, as I call it. Our universe is not a thing at rest. Not flat, not static. It bends and twists, and it does so based on a very complex set of rules. Rules that change. I think measuring the Pi shift is like a tick trying to measure the temperature of the blood of the creature it feeds from. The Pi shift is nonlinear; it reminds me of a long term weather prediction. There are too many factors and influences to truly anticipate, but..."


    Marilyn pointed at Sophie''s body in the tube next to her. "What ever is happening in this girl''s head at the moment is important enough to shift the real measured value of Pi of our universe."


    "This makes no sense," said Milly.


    "Sophie is a sink, a pivot around which our entire universe bends. She attracts my probes, bends space. That is why I call her an Attractor. I stole that name from someone far away." She smiled at the camera.


    "Actually, it makes sense," chimed in Georges. "Before man knew it lived on the surface of a rounded planet, and made long sea voyages, no real star measurement made sense."


    "Correct. Once again, that pours credibility into the notion that the universe has many dimensions, not three. To the boat captain, the Earth''s surface had two dimensions. As I dig below the surface of mankind''s current understanding of our world, I am amazed by a stellar puzzle, to which Sophie appears to be relevant."


    "Why Sophie?" asked the journalist.


    "I wish I knew for sure. Milly, you should continue with the interview, I have not completed the calculations. The shift has stabilized." Behind Marilyn, the shifting red numbers turned green and stopped changing value. Milly looked around. The Lapierres were sleeping peacefully.


    Milly spoke into a camera. "Well, I don''t care what they tell me down on Earth, at this point, we are going to take a break. Back in a couple of minutes." She pushed a button on her belt, and the signal stopped.


    Milly spoke to Georges and Marilyn. "This stellar stuff is a bit over my head," she said. The image of Marilyn was gone.


    The robotic voice returned, ¨C Under these extraordinary circumstances, you are doing just fine. ¨C


    "What about Sophie?"


    "The girl made herself crystal clear. She doesn''t want our help," said Georges.


    "What do you think is going on, in those two heads?"


    ¨C Milly, without telling you how to work, the cameras are off. You will regret it if you do not resume the live broadcast. Humans have a right to know of their destiny. While you two look so stunning, maybe you should continue the interview. I will interrupt as I just did if circumstances become more fluid. ¨C


    "Can you answer a couple of follow-up questions on this Pi thing?"


    ¨C I guess, but don''t fault me if the answers prove to be wrong in the future. ¨C


    Milly pushed a button; the cameras took flight. "And we are back on CNN with what will no doubt prove to be the most important live televised event of all time. Marilyn, you said Sophie is changing Pi, what does that mean?"


    ¨C At this point I only have theories. ¨C


    "What are they?"


    ¨C Cosmologists fear that the human race is but one of millions of living species in the universe. They fear what we do is inconsequential; unimportant. While that assumption makes perfect statistical and logical sense, I believe it is wrong. I feel like in all the worlds, even those covered in life, none generate Rho waves. Something unique is going on in our Solar System. Humans are of critical importance to the big scheme of things. And I''m no human, so you can eject ego from the equation immediately. This girl, god bless her, is so important that the universe itself is bending to her will. ¨C


    "God?"


    ¨C A figure of speech. But things suggest a greater purpose. ¨C


    "This is a bit... "


    "Incredible," suggested Georges.


    ¨C The Electoral 2072 Competition is also quantifiably shifting Pi. ¨C


    "This game is that important?"


    ¨C Electoral is much more than a game; it aligns consciousness, creates a new world within this world. The beauty and magic of Electoral is unique. ¨C


    "I don''t understand."


    ¨C Milly, I have a significant amount of power and knowledge, and I also do not understand. The only thing I am certain of is that I don''t want to fool around with things I do not understand. Right now, if Sophie said she wanted a frozen drink, I would uproot this Center to find her one. The girl is the key. I just don''t know what type of door she opens. ¨C


    "Is this linked with the Rho waves?"


    ¨C I strongly believe it is. ¨C


    "Can''t you experiment with these waves?"


    ¨C No. For a reason unknown to me, only the human brain generates these waves. I am unable to recreate them in any way. It''s rather amusing. This might explain why humans can shift Pi. Milly, I would appreciate if you could continue Georges'' interview. I am trying to distinguish structure in the waves produced by the Lapierres. Maybe the girl called and I can¡¯t see it in the gibberish. ¨C


    Milly knew when to take a leave. She inspected the two sleeping humans, talked to the doctor, and went with Georges into the next room.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

 Chapter 44

    In the Fold


    Somewhere, Sometime


    As fragile dominos were being set in the Solar System and other portions of the Multiverse, a young girl refused to lose the only thing dear to her, her crippled father. Few unfoldings in the last couple of billion years were to the Multiverse as important as the one taking place now. It twisted and bent upon itself so the impossible could happen changing Pi in portions of the worlds. In places, this altered the very fabric of space. To the Multiverse, the latest bent was needed along a simple path, from its outer regions of The Cold to its core, The Lower where the Oldest waited.


    The Multiverse wasn''t petty. There would be a cost to this needed waste of energy, and those responsible would pay. But for the moment, it awoke to scratch an itch. The Multiverse allowed its walls to weaken, the same way skin and tissue had to be cut open before a surgery could happen. The child needed help, but it stood far from the guidance and mentorship she required to save her.


    The very nature of space bent, everywhere.


    A twelve-year-old Earth girl, the only creature valued by greater things, armed with the best of intentions, entered what she believed was her father''s mind. His rescue would wait another day. Unbeknownst to her, the Multiverse had already taken care of Laurent and rescued his sanity by sending a boy from the Purple. The boy was a gift to Laurent because it gave him power. To the Multiverse, Sophie and her love was unique. Her heart was pure and was her friend, she had not given an afterthought as to her well-being before jumping into the unknown.


    The girl had no survival instinct. Selfless, utterly. Her love for her father was complete, and frightening in its intensity. She felt drawn to enter his mind, but what she really felt was the Multiverse calling her away from her own reality. She closed her eyes, and with the help of Marilyn, she was once again at the mercy of greater things.


    The faint gravity of Mars disappeared. In her heart there was some distant sadness; who was she kidding? Sooner or later, her disabled father would leave her, and his suffering would end. She was fine with that. She felt selfish. How dare she force her father to live in this illusion of a body? Then she felt weak and drowsy. She had lost her mother and her unborn brother. She would rather die than to be an orphan. Luckily, in this immaterial form, she was unable to tear up. Laurent would one day die, but not like this, and not today. She felt the emotions were pouring in from somewhere.


    Sophie slid the circle of electronics around her head, and instantly lost contact with the strange Electoral Center. This was a bit like traveling to her dream version of Wonderland. She lost all sense of her own body. There was darkness. She knew there would be a new dream.


    Virtual reality was to Sophie nothing more than a long and elaborate man-made illusion. She didn''t care about the technical mambo-jumbo. Part of her hoped her father was waiting, in his rocking chair on the porch of his big white house where she had last seen him. He loved the large southern house. But Sophie had a nagging feeling things would not be that easy.


    The place in which she now floated was strange; this wasn''t her father''s normal interface. Her head also felt heavier than normal; there was no pain, but she was definitely under some type of strain. She was in a fog, like what she had felt as she was absorbed by LO''s music back in the catapult. She had to focus, her mind had to be sharp. She tried to think of the present, her body, and the tube around her. Slowly she began to feel better, more awake. The darkness remained, unrelenting.


    ***


    She was formless, in the dark, and then gravity returned. Her formless body began to fall, drawn forward and accelerating. She''d become a cosmic skydiver, punching through dark layers of invisible clouds. The feeling felt good against her immaterial skin. At first she saw nothing, heard nothing. She just felt the waves hit her face in a rapid succession.


    "Daddy!" she shouted in vain.


    There was no sound. She was on her way to someplace dark, deep. The feeling of being dragged through invisible walls intensified. She was wasting precious time. In her mind she tried to visualize her father, go to him, and that effort appeared to slow down her progression to the deep pits of this hell. Then, as if she had arrived at her destination, the ballet of cloud layers stopped. This must have been where Laurent was lost.


    Slowly, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she began to distinguish shapes. Sophie was floating immobile in a strange new world. The girl began to distinguish rocks and crystals. Everything here was some shade of brown. This definitely wasn''t where she wanted to go. She now floated, bodiless in an endless underwater cavern. This place was huge and around were millions of crystal-like structure anchored to the rocks. This felt like being in a deep geyser, with surrounding walls covered by giant snowflakes. Somehow she could see in this muddy soup.


    "Daddy!" she tried again. There was no up or down. "How could anything live here?" she wondered to herself. This must have been some strange dream created by her father. "Daddy?" she ventured, unsure of herself. This time the words seemed to have an impact on the world around her. As she said it, a shock wave spread in the water, in every direction away from her body. As the sound waves hit the distant walls of the cavern, they damaged some crystals and bounced back like a sonar. This place was weird. No one could dream up something this strange. Somehow, the brown reminded her of the Purple space where she met the rock creature. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    "Daddy, where are you?" she tried again but this time without shouting. The weaker voice had almost the same effect on this fragile world. A new wave spread outwardly, snapped of more of the wall crystals and rebounded back her way. She had to be careful.


    Then, contrasting with the ambient numbness, she saw in the distance one little dot, a bubble shape made of the crystals of incredible complexity. Inside it, there was beautiful shining lights. She knew this thing was alive. The creature was swimming in the murky liquid. Broken, floating shards, and coming directly her way, evading the light. As it got closer, she could distinguish more of the details inside of it. It was round and looked like a perfect snowball made of a giant snowflake of transparent crystal. This was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life. She had no doubt, this thing was alive. It looked like a jellyfish without tentacles. The bubble came closer and stopped within touching distance.


    ~ Welcome, visitor, ~ resonated a deep voice. As it spoke, the light pulsed to the sound. This creature was talking to her.


    "Where is my father?" she asked as softly as she could, not wanting to hurt the creature. There was no sound wave this time.


    ~ I are sorry. I do not know the creature you call "father." You are the first outsider to enter our world. We do not hold him. He is not here. ~


    "He must be here, we''re in his mind now. This is his dream."


    ~ I wish you were right, young one. When you came here, you moved between worlds, realms, facets of the Multiverse; characterize them how you may. I was able to attract you here. I must help you. ~


    "You are mistaken. I entered my father''s head using a machine. We are in his mind. Let me go. I must find him." Her last word was stronger, it created a wave. The energy hit the creature''s outer shell and pushed it back. Sophie saw the few broken crystals on its shell regenerate. It swam back from where it stood.


    ~ Apologies. I want to help. I understand how confusing this must be for you. I must be blamed; I made you come here. I have a proposition. ~


    "Forreal?" said Sophie, dipping her verbal toes into the lake of 2072''s slang of the young.


    ~ This is our world. Many call it the Lower. You are our guest. We mean you no harm. ~


    "Let me go. Now."


    ~Please, listen to my proposal. It may be useful for you. ~


    "I don''t care. My father is in danger. Let me go, I have to find him."


    ~ I apologize. You are, and have been, free to go. ~


    Sophie needed to find her father. She needed to be next to him and had no time to waste with the bubble creature. She closed her mind''s eye and focused hard on her overarching desire to be with him. It worked, and immediately this world called the Lower began to fade. The flooded brown cavern was replaced by darkness. Soon, she could feel a sensation of punching upward through invisible dark walls, she was going back home.


    She was leaving this place.


    The creature had not lied; it let her go.


    She wondered if her impulsive nature was not getting in her own way. She may have been hasty in dismissing the help. She knew the beautiful creature meant her no harm and was in no position to turn down help. Strange things were going on, to say the least. Sophie decided that she wanted to go back to hear the proposition. So she imagined the brown cavern, and the strange little bubble of light. The rising sensation slowed and she felt like she then began to reverse course. She was returning to the place called the Lower. Within moments, she was back where she had been, in the large cavern. The brown color reappeared. The small crystal bubble was still there.


    ~ I am honored that you have returned. I wish to help. ~


    "Why? You must want something."


    ~ Correct. Yes. I want, above all else, to travel between worlds, and you alone can take me. To do so, I must help you and advise you. ~


    "You said you have a proposal. Let''s hear it."


    ~ The line you must walk is thin. There is a task that you need to complete. Something very important. I cannot interfere with your task, but I can help. Others will try to hinder you. I have vast knowledge, collected with great cost and effort over many millennia. I can provide information about these others and other potential pitfalls that may lead to your downfall. Information may be the key to success. ~


    "I don''t get it?"


    He could sense the girl''s building frustration. ~ Strange things must have begun happening around you. The law of impermeability, what let you travel here, does not bind you. When you travel between worlds, to search for your father and meet your destiny, I would desire to follow you and help you find him. If you simply will for me to follow you, I believe I will be able to. I vow to remain with you until your task is done, or I die. ~


    "Why do you want to leave? Are you a prisoner of this place?"


    ~ In my world, we do not grow old and die. I am old. Very old. In fact, since I am the oldest known creature of the Multiverse, many simply call me ¡°the Oldest.¡± Since we cannot move between the realms that compose the Multiverse, I''ve come to feel like a prisoner. Quite frankly, I am bored. I want to see other places, even if for a moment. My survival is inconsequential. ~


    "This place is boring in colors. You will love other places." The creature began to pulse with light. Obviously, it was happy. "You will have no body if you follow me, how is this possible."


    ¨C Things will work out. Trust yourself. Greater forces are at play around you. ¨C


    "What is your name again?"


    ~ I have many names. Here, I am called the Oldest. ~


    She thought briefly. "No. I will call you Liam."


    Sophie saw a beautiful ballet of lights tingle in the bubble as she named it. She looked up. In the distance other bubbles were approaching.


    "Others?"


    ~ Yes, they envy me. They will interfere.Let us go, please. ~


    "Now?"


    ~ Please. ~


    Sophie was not in mood to debate with others. Plus, she found herself liking the wordy little glowing ball. It was cute, in an alien sort of way. It reminded her in a strange way of the rock creature from the Purple but in a much more refined version.


    As she did moments before, she closed her mind''s eye and imagined she was back with her father. This time, she imagined Liam was there with her, zipping to and throughout the enveloping blackness. She began her way up, smashing through the layers of the Multiverse.

 Chapter 45

    Sophie had a strange feeling. As she soared upward in the darkness, she became aware she was no longer alone. Someone other than her father was holding her hand. Liam was with her. She felt his warming life-force. The creature was acting like a child. She knew he was ecstatic.


    ~ Amazing, ~ said the voice of her companion. It came from within. ~ This is amazing. May I call you Chosen, or Mistress? ~


    "I''m Sophie, just Sophie. We''re equals."


    ~ In my world, we prefer titles. ~


    Sophie was exceptional at always getting her way. She even knew she could be a little bratty from time-to-time. She was not, however, going to walk around letting a tiny, glowing, ancient alien calling her ¡°Mistress.¡± "My mother chose this name for me. She passed years ago. It''s all I have left from her."


    The comment cut Liam like a knife. He had insulted the Attractor with his very first question. ~ I apologize. I will call you Sophie. ~


    They continued punching through veils, making their way to a new destination.


    "What''s happening?" asked the girl.


    ~ I believe we are moving through worlds; you may be perceiving them as if they are curtains, ~ replied Liam.


    "Worlds?"


    ~ Yes. Or realms. The terms have become interchangeable. Sadly, we are not in your father''s mind. The universe is made of many layered worlds; that is why we call it the Multiverse. The position of these worlds relative to one another is very complex. You alone can move through these worlds. No one, and no technology can allow anything except communication to move between realms. ~


    "So why can I? Why me at all?"


    ~ Sophie, I apologize in advance, but some questions I will not be able to answer. Certain knowledge, especially if shared before you''re ready to hear it, might guide you down the wrong path. I cannot answer those questions yet. I do not want to manipulate your decisions. ~


    Obviously, her new passenger knew very little about Sophie. She had not gotten to where she was by accepting ¡°no¡± for an answer. No one, aside from her father, could deny any her requests once she was riled. She''d agreed to ferry him about the cosmos only a short time ago in exchange for information. Now he was refusing to provide it? "Liam, I like you, but you will not keep secrets from me. Do you know the answers to my questions?"


    ~ In a manner of speaking. ~


    "While you are with me, you will not withhold information from me. I won''t hesitate to drop you where you stand if you ever do so again. This isn''t for you to decide. Things will happen my way, at my pace. You will give me all assistance possible, or leave me. I have no patience for the grownup way of hiding things and keeping secrets."


    ~ I fear that arming you with the wrong knowledge, gained at the wrong time, could create great harm. ~


    "Back on your world, you promised me information. You promised to help me. You also told me to trust myself more. You need to learn to trust me. Your Multiverse seems to have picked me because I''m something that isn''t ordinary, and my ways work. Look at what I did with you. I was gone. You''d be in that awful brown cave right this second, and for the next however long, if I hadn''t done what I did. I came back to grab you."


    The girl was truly amazing. She was correct. Who was he to hold back? ~ I understand, ~ said the creature softly. ~ I promise never to hold any information back. We must speak, then. As soon as possible. ~


    Sophie realized she''d possibly been a bit rough with Liam, but she liked her new companion and figured it was best to set things straight from the start. She relented, every so slightly. "At a minimum, explain to me why I cannot know."


    ~ You are wise, Sophie. ~ Liam had to educate the Attractor. He''d spoken of the fine line she would have to walk, but in truth, his own perch was nearly as precarious. This lore was secret. Divulging it to an outsider was nigh unthinkable, and punishable by death back in the Deep. Yet still, she was the Attractor. Liam fervently hoped he was never going back to his world. ~ First, we must slow down and not enter the next world before you have listened to me. ~


    Sophie willed their halt, and their surge of upward momentum ceased. The pair was now standing in the dark, floating in the silence.


    ~ This is wonderful, ~ said Liam. ~ I apologize for trying to hide information from you. ~


    "Stop apologizing all the time. Geez, I''m a kid. Everyone always to walk all over me at least once. Don''t feel bad."


    ~ You are the child, how so? ~ asked the oldest creature in all the universe.


    "I am twelve. Back in your world, you''d probably just call me ''young one'' or something."


    ~ To me, everyone is young. I do not know how you count in your world, the span of your race''s lifetime, nor how your development takes place. ~ Sophie was taken aback by the honesty of the answer.


    "Well, it''s hard to explain."


    ~ Do not worry. For now it is more important that you understand what I tell you rather than the opposite, ~ said the creature. ~ View the Multiverse as a living creature. A very large creature in which each dimension, each world is a different part of a single body. Each world serves a purpose. We do not understand the purpose of any individual world, but we know there always is one. The Multiverse and its true purpose remain largely a mystery. Each world is important to the whole, and like any living creature, there is a balance between worlds. The Multiverse grows and changes. As part of this aging process, we believe some worlds are asked to disappear. ~


    ~ Very rarely, the ignorance or the arrogance of the inhabitants of a world results in damage to the fabric of the Multiverse itself. Worlds often fight against extinction, but the Multiverse is extremely resistant. It nearly always finds a way to avert truly severe damage to itself. In exceptional cases, the Multiverse deploys a powerful counterbalancing force to neutralize the existing threat, preventing the destruction of worlds meant to survive or destroy those meant to go. We call this force an ¡°Attraction.¡± It is the Multiverse''s last line of defense against an unquantifiable outcome. ~


    "Strange word," Sophie mused. "Attraction? Marilyn used that word." Unlikely, Liam thought. He alone knew of the Attraction theory. The creature made a mental note. He had to find out who was this creature called Marilyn. It was inconceivable that this same creature knew his most advanced and guarded secrets and had stolen The Dot.


    ~ Indeed. We know little about what is intolerable and hurts the Multiverse. Our guesses are always wrong. To understand the way the Universe fixes itself, imagine a long string. Undesirable events bend the string. The Multiverse twists, bends and becomes tangled in unplanned ways. Eventually, the string ties itself into a hopeless knot. Unless repaired, part of the string must be cut away forever to save the whole. ~


    Liam, in his brown ball form began slowly floating back and forth in front of Sophie, a symphony of color that bloomed into geometric shapes. It reminded her of nothing so much as those old videos of University Professors lecturing their classes. ~ At the bending point, the heart of the knot, an Attractor appears. We think that the Universe somehow infuses part of itself into an Attractor, widening the Attractor''s capacity to store and conduct energy. Then, the Universe fills that new-made void with the most efficient means it can find of igniting the Attractor''s potential. ~ Liam ceased his pacing motion and faced Sophie directly. His next words had a new timbre to them; he was no longer lecturing.


    "I don''t understand."


    ~ I am sorry. I have no good examples or analogies that might help. I know nothing of your world or its physics to help explain at the moment. I think your world is unique in many aspects. It may actually be based on physical objects. Since our race began, long ago, we have seen five Attractions. The Multiverse has begun its buildup toward the sixth. You are the Sixth Attractor, Sophie. ~


    "What does that have to do with me? I''m just a kid trying to take care of her sick Dad! I don''t even understand most of what you''re trying to tell me!"


    ~ You are the Attractor. Your mastery of movement across worlds confirms this fact. That being so, I am afraid there is no avoiding your role in things to come. ~


    "I don''t think so."


    ~ I understand your discomfort with being told you are different. ~


    "It''s the second time today."


    ~ What do you mean? ~


    "Back home, a computer told me my brain emits different types of waves. She called them Rho waves. She says they''re rare in others. I produce more of them. Like you, she says I am unique and what I do is impossible."


    ~ I must speak with this computer. I am unfamiliar with these waves. ~ Liam tried to ease her worries. ~ Everyone, in every world, is unique in one way or another. All living creatures have a purpose. Few ever find, before their death, the nature of this purpose. ~


    "Things are simple for me, okay? I have to help my father. That''s all I care about. Right now he needs me."


    ~ Then we will try to go to him, help him. ~


    "I tried that already, and I wound up meeting you in the brown world."


    ~ I am mostly to blame for that. I drew you to me. Your powers exist to serve a higher purpose. The road you must take will lead you to where you must go. I am happy to see the Multiverse agrees with my theory. In the eyes of the Multiverse, I am going to help you achieve your purpose. This brings me great satisfaction. ~


    "How come you speak English? That makes no sense."


    ~ You are observant little one. Apologies, I meant Sophie. ~ She liked Liam. His voice was very respectful and reassuring. ~ The worlds and realms of the Multiverse are extremely different from one another. The laws of physics in each are different: even your bare glimpse of the Lower has made that obvious to you, I am sure. The uniqueness of these laws is the reason why realms do not fuse into a single unified place. The barriers between each are strong. All worlds rely on some type of energy, but few use waves, and fewer yet use cold, hard matter. I think your world is unique in that it relies almost exclusively on matter. If you are, as I suspect, from the world we call the Cold, the arrival of your world will be a treat to most.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ~ As you can imagine, life in each world is completely different. All creatures differ, and a physical barrier exists between worlds. Nothing can pass except some very limited volume of information at key points, precious portals. But each time we communicate, somehow language is never a barrier. ~


    "Are you talking about something called the Dot?"


    Liam was stunned. ~ You know of the Dot? ~


    "Yes. I don''t know what it is, but Marilyn used me to grab it. I heard her mention it. I think it''s true." The implications to Liam of what Sophie said were severe. Somewhere, a creature from the Cold had used the power of the Attractor to steal the Dot. This feat required a level of technology and understanding of the Multiverse that he had not thought possible. Liam silently redoubled his determination to investigate this creature. Depending on her motivations, this ¡°computer,¡± whatever that was, could be a very great threat to all of existence.


    ~ Most interesting, Sophie. I have many questions to ponder, especially now. My most important role is to continue to inform you on the workings of the Multiverse. Let me continue. It is of vital importance that you understand the process that lets you move and communicate between worlds. You need not understand every nuance of the science, but the foundational why of the thing is important. Understanding this next lesson will help you understand why the Multiverse helped you reach me, and will reveal to you where we are going next. I hope, for your sake, to your father. ~ Liam gleamed softly in what Sophie had taken to indicate a small smile.


    ~ Imagine knowledge itself is a physical thing. It would have a series of layers inside of a structure, yes? The top layer is formed with information you just collected, like knowing me. Below is a layer formed by who you are: your memories. You grabbed Marilyn''s name from this layer. Still further below resides the instinctual layer. The primitive layer. This one helps control your body, and it is a bit of a mystery. In each realm, the third layer, like the realm it springs from, differs from all the others. Between the instinctual layer and the layer of self, some possess to regulate retention, speech, communication and know what is important and what is not. It cleans things up. ~


    "Are you always this complicated?"


    ~ Apologies. ~


    "Stop apologizing. Is that layer what we call dreaming?"


    ~ Interesting. ~ The girl, while appearing not to care about his information actually was paying attention. ~ Yes. It is common for species to rest, but not all of them dream. In any event, by making a simple bridge of communication between the lower and deeper layers between individuals, two people can bypass language and communicate easily. I am sure as the Attractor, you can travel and move freely in the Multiverse, you can adapt to the laws in each world, and you can communicate on such a deep level. ~


    "I don''t really think I need to know this. Please, my father is sick."


    ~ I must not interfere, Sophie. Do as you please. Don''t let my words distract you from your path. ~


    "Don''t worry about that part. I see you don''t know me at all, yet."


    In a fraction of a second, they resumed moving between worlds. The feeling of passing through curtains began anew. They were now going in a different direction; she felt it. Slowly, they reached their destination and finally stopped moving. All around Sophie was a diffuse purple color. It was less solid than smoke, and not exactly light. She had seen this place before.


    "Do you know where this is?" asked Sophie.


    It took Liam some time to adapt. He was visibly happy, his inner flashes of light hued purplish by the space around them. ~ The space, it is.... ~


    "Big?"


    ~ No, it is colored. Is that Purple? ~


    "I guess if you never left your world, you would know only the color brown. How sad."


    ~ I am fulfilled. Others spoke of color, we could only imagine the concept. ~


    "Wait until you see my world, this is boring to me."


    ~ We call this world the Purple. It is a world that touches yours. You may be interested in knowing that its inhabitants are hostile, aside from one boy named Malik and they have recently declared war on your world. ~ The pair was floating in this quantum world. In the distance was a deeper purple patch where the creatures lived. There were no rifts around.


    "How can you be old and not have been here?" asked Sophie.


    ~ Only you can travel between worlds. Others rely on recreated images. At the moment, though, your mind empowers most of my functions. I''m being expanded, by proxy, through your own link to the Multiverse. This world is amazing. I can die happy now. This world has very little materiality; most of this place is made of waves. It will be difficult for you to understand this place. As I said, the creatures here are hostile. ~


    "Can you do me a favor, can you avoid talking about dying, okay?"


    ~ What? ~


    "You said you could die now. As a child, I have already seen my share of people who die. I don''t like death. Stick around, okay?"


    Liam was touched by the request. For her, he had to remain strong. He was her guide and teacher, ancient beyond words and as alien as the girl could imagine, but somehow he was overwhelmed by the situation. He was old, so old. For billions of years, the only thing which had kept him alive was his determination to get a glimpse of another world. In minutes, he had gone from being locked in the Deep and having to understand what had happened to the Nexus to talking to the Attractor herself. She was kind, mature, and intelligent. He was in the Purple, actually in the Purple, with the Attractor! His life had found its purpose. Now she was asking him to remain. He would see her home, to the Cold.


    ~ Yes. I apologize, my wish is to help you, Sophie. In my world, we have no children. We do not procreate. In exchange, we are immortal. I feel a very strong empathic bond to you, Sophie. Is this normal? ~


    "Everyone feels that way toward me. I got used to it. At first I figured it was pity for my dad''s condition, but now I think it''s different, those Rho waves."


    ~ Your father, is he all right? ~


    "No. He was attacked.¡±


    ~ Can I help? ~


    "Maybe. I needed to enter his mind. He''s lost his normal human senses, so I''m forced to visit him using a computer interface. Whatever attacked him seems to have made that impossible. I wonder why I''m back here again? Why me? What''s the thing about the Attraction? Why would the Universe care about me? It''s ridiculous."


    ~ We should speak more of the Attraction. Each time in our past, when we entered an Attraction, a single creature was given great power to fix things to the benefit of the Multiverse. ~


    "Power?"


    ~ Yes. Attractors are very powerful, but not in terms of energy. I believe they are causes to consequence duality. ~


    "You lost me again."


    ~ These are complex matters, Sophie, few truly understand them. Our theories are also only that: theories. ~


    "What does that have to do with me?"


    ~ You have the power to do impossible things. Your power will grow as the attraction nears its apex. You will be able to act outside of logic, probability and science. I think that nothing you can conceive of, can will, is outside of your reach. ~


    "Like saving my father?"


    ~ Correct, but with one limitation. The Multiverse''s needs supersede yours. You cannot change something it does not want changed. ~


    "The Universe wants my father to be sick?"


    ~ I wish I had all the answers. Since the Multiverse is large, we would imagine that the Attractors are equally large, energetic things, but they are precisely the opposite. Always small and vulnerable individuals. You are the Attraction. It is in the Cold; your unique world. What you need to do, and how you need to do it, is a complete mystery to you and I. You were chosen, not I. I fear that by telling you about the past Attractors, or by giving you my opinion, you may be misled into acting like I would. That would defeat the purpose. The past Attractions failed, at least in part, for that reason. They listened to others. ~


    "Funny."


    ~ What? ~


    "You don''t know me. Everyone says I am stubborn and only do things my way. If the Multiverse wanted someone who could ignore others and their opinions, however good, that''s me for sure."


    ~ I am happy to hear this. You truly are a gift. ~


    "Don''t start pampering me, Liam. I don''t need that. Everyone is always nice to me. I need you to say the truth, always."


    ~ Why did you pick the name ¡°Liam¡± for me? ~


    "It''s personal."


    ~ I''m sorry if I have pried. ~


    Sophie felt like her newfound companion deserved more respect. She owed him an answer. "Liam is the name I wanted for my baby brother. My parents picked William."


    ~ You have a brother? ~


    "He died before he was born."


    ~ I am so sorry. ~


    "I don''t know why I picked that name for you, maybe I shouldn''t. But I like it."


    ~ I am truly honored. The Multiverse has extremely complex ways of expressing matters. What I know is that something in your world is twisting and hurting the Multiverse at its core. Whatever it is cannot be stopped by normal forces of reason. This thing is so important that unless it ends or changes, large parts of the Multiverse will end. Your task, I believe, is to correct this problem. You must use this power in a way that you alone can. ~


    Sophie was not really concerned by the story. She cared little about the world, life, or even herself. Her only real concern was her dad. He was alive. Could he be the thing hurting the Multiverse? Doubtful. He was easy to stop, he was only one badly hurt, barely alive man.


    "Electoral," she said.


    ~ What? ~


    "Forget it for now." She really liked Liam. What she just said could wait.


    ~ You said you have been here before? ~


    "Yes, in a dream. What do you know of this place?"


    ~ The inhabitants are extremely hostile. A race called the Metils. They are to us extremely large creatures. From what they said, they are very small by your world''s standards. The Metils live in hot zones, a patch of deeper purple. ~ He looked around and saw the patch. ~ There, that must be one of their cities. They are highly structured creatures. They love technology and war. They now claim that rifts between your world and this place are destroying them. They referred to a boy named Malik who claimed to have traveled between worlds. Were you there each time he did so? ~


    "Is my father here?"


    ~ I do not know. It is doubtful, since this is not your world. Only the Attractor can shift worlds. ~


    The light purple space around them began to change, warp, as if light was being diverted by a series of large mirrors. Invisible prisms were moving in all directions. Sophie felt like she was in a house of mirrors with moving walls. She began to hear explosions and all manner of noises, but she did not feel any different. By the look of things, they were standing in the middle of some type of battlefield being oblivious to the detonations around them.


    "What is going on?"


    ~ As in my world, you, or rather we, appear to be incorporeal. We are beyond their reach. We are ghosts, observers if you wish. Obviously, they see us and are trying to destroy us. This situation is, once again, a technical impossibility. What a wonderful observational opportunity. ~ He seemed completely unperturbed that aliens were trying to kill them.


    The ballet of explosions went on for several minutes. Soon, the creatures in the distance made of spinning rocks realized they were wasting their time and ended the attack. Instants later, a new type of weapon was used with the same lack of results.


    ~ Sophie, thank you so much. ~ Liam was at the moment the happiest creature in the Universe. For an old person, he sure was acting like a kid, thought Sophie. The Metils began their approach floating in this strange color sky. They reminded her of the firefly. As they came closer, she was able to distinguish their inner structures. These were little balls of rotating and spinning rocks, like complex clouds of dust gravitating as little planets with orbiting moons. Sophie had just seen two life-forms from two different worlds within minutes, not to mention her voyage to the Electoral Center and her eye-to-eye introduction to Marilyn. She was handling this situation very calmly, with her usual detachment.


    "Stop!" ordered the approaching creature. The voice was decidedly rude.


    "I''m not moving," she snapped back, with equal rudeness.


    "Stay there!" barked a second Metil.


    "I hate bullies," said the girl to the second creature.


    She was neither scared nor intimidated, just calm but forceful. She decided to move to the side by a couple of feet just to show the creatures she could. With her mind, she willed it and they moved. Liam was impressed by the girl''s reaction.


    "I said don''t move." As the creature talked, lights of multiple colors shone between two layers of orbiting rocks. Sophie moved again. The same creature spoke again, but this time with a softer tone. "Who are you?"


    "Sophie. My turn to ask a question. Where is my father?"


    There was a silence.


    "We have no one here like you."


    "Why am I here?"


    "We do not know."


    "Someone is holding me here?" Sophie spoke out loud to Liam.


    Liam replied. ~ No one here has the power to hold or summon you. We are here because this is your path. You must see or do something in the Purple before we can depart. ~


    "Who spoke?" the Metil asked, nervously. He''d heard Liam''s voice but was unable to see his body. Sophie was tired of wasting time. She wanted to leave. She tried to concentrate on the image of her father, but this time nothing happened. Then she remembered Electoral''s test. She focused on the white plush dog. She waited a moment, then opened her eyes. She was still facing the little floating rock creature.


    "Liam, are you still here?"


    ~ Yes, why? ~


    "Nothing."


    "We know of the creature from the Cold named Sophie," said the Metil.


    "How?"


    "Is Sophie your name?" it ventured.


    "Yes."


    "You injured Malik, one of us. He told us you followed him here and you talked to him. We have images."


    "The firefly? I injured no one. Where is he?"


    "He left to meet you. We believe he is in your world."


    "Why am I here?" asked Sophie once more.


    "We do not know," replied the Metil.


    "Not you. I was asking my friend Liam." She now was calling Liam a friend.


    "Who is this? Who are you talking to?" asked the Metil.


    "A friend, from a place...."


    ~ "Don''t!" ~ Liam tried to interrupt.


    ".... a place he calls the Lower."


    Words exchanged quickly between the creatures. They knew of the Lower, of course. Moments after the Oldest had threatened this entire world with destruction, a creature from his world was physically present with the creature from the Cold named Sophie. Since their weapons did not work, they started to retreat.


    "Wait!" said Sophie.


    The creatures were no longer communicating. They were pulling out, moving as fast as they could away from them.


    Sophie already liked Liam her new travel companion.

 Chapter 46

    The Electoral Center


    The interview of the father of Electoral aka Marilyn resumed in the beautiful Martian backdrop. "Don''t you just love Marilyn? Not a boring day at the office." Georges was trying to reassure the journalist on their way back to the interview room. "The thing back there with the kid, the numbers, that was awesome, no? Measuring this shift was something humans could have done for a long time. It took my creation to do it. She thinks humans are unique in the universe, we alone have these waves; remind me why we should fear her. She reveres us." Milly smiled and waited until the official interview to resume.


    Georges walked up and sat back in his large seat. The view of the martian landscape somehow seemed different, more realistic as the thin atmosphere in the sky turned to a deep green. Electoral''s explanation had made the universe seem alive.


    "As the journalist, I should try and play devil''s advocate to incite more emotion from you, but I won''t. I concede. In the back there was both entertaining and educating television. Surely thousands back home are already working hard to decipher what all that really means. Let''s continue with a mature interview if you want," she resumed, "why mars, why go through the trouble of running this game from millions of miles away. This sound counter-productive?"


    Georges'' glass of Mountain Dew was empty, so he grabbed Milly''s. "Can I?"


    "Of course." She answered. He drank from her cup and put it back empty. On the Martian horizon, behind them, Marilyn was now broadcasting the most majestic sunrise.


    "For lack of a better term, we were kicked out."


    "Excuse me?"


    "The boot. One day in 2065, while we were back home on Earth, a terrorist tried to detonate a 300-kiloton nuclear bomb in downtown Paris. This remains a guarded secret. Marilyn stopped him. Minutes later the man was arrested. The incident itself didn''t scare the Generals, but they freaked out about Marilyn''s capacity to stop the detonation fearing they had also lost their power to destroy mankind. They came to us without as much as a thanks for saving millions. They were very worried about our capacity to interfere with their own weapons of war. They wanted assurances their toys still worked.


    "Marilyn was blunt. She explained she was not about to let some idiot destroy the entire human race or the environment. That included Generals, governments, or god-almighty. She explained that non-military civilians were now off-limits. An attack against powerless people would be considered an act of war and she would step in.


    As you can imagine, the bullies and thugs forming these groups took issue with losing their power. Every bad guy united against us. They also found support with other groups that specialized in mass domination and control. During the final of Electoral 2067, while she was running the final simulation, these thugs united and attacked at her weakest, during the game. They launched a digital offensive, multiple software programs and even physically blew up servers. They even used virus technology."The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "I don''t recall any problem during the final."


    "Precisely. They tried. They failed miserably. There was a perceptible microsecond delay in the feed if you watched closely, nothing more. Go back and see; the character of Marilyn was getting out of a caravan, she looked up, and there was a small noise in the sky."


    "So they were upset."


    "You bet. Marilyn took away their toys. Better yet, they realized they were playing with empty guns. The next day began a political push to get her offline. Unable to destroy her, they now wanted Electoral turned off. They could make the game illegal. Marilyn insists this game truly elects the one person capable of doing what she says she can''t and the survival of mankind might depend on this game."


    "Marilyn truly believes the game must continue at all costs?"


    "Yes. The preservation of the game was part of our compromise to leave. We agreed to exile ourselves to Mars in exchange for the Electoral 2072 competition. She cares because of the Feed."


    There was a long silence as the journalist looked down at some notes she wrote in the palm of her hand. ¡°You talked about the Feed, it¡¯s important?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He would say no more.


    "What''s next for Georges?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "You, Georges, in ten years? Twenty? Where do you plan to be? What do you want to do?"


    "Ten years ago, if you asked me the same question, I would never have guessed I would be here in this strange fortress of solitude, like Superman at the North Pole." Georges knew his basics. "She has plans, great plans, I know that. I don''t know what they are anymore. Her intelligence is such that I no longer understand what she really thinks. What I do know with my heart? She is working hard for the good of mankind. She truly loves us and admires us."


    "How can you tell?"


    "I guess I''m not really objective. I know her. I have spent the last forty years with her. I know in my heart. I begged her to stop Electoral; to let let some other software run it. I wanted to walk out on her. She simply said, ''Nothing is more important to our world''s survival.¡¯ She now believes Emilio has a gift which can save humanity, nothing less.''"


    There was a long silence.


    Milly turned to look at the image of Marilyn floating in the sky.


    "What did you mean by that?" she asked the artificial intelligence directly.


    The image of Marilyn answered, "When a child has a tough day in school, arriving home, she can feel overwhelmed by it all. A parent can''t explain the importance of education to the child. I can''t explain the importance of the Electoral process without endangering its positive role on your race. But believe me, this game is more than it looks. Much more. Simply put, the game warps the deterministic events surrounding the survival of your race. Borrowing the famous Schr?dinger analogy of his cat in a box, the game makes sure that when the box is finally opened, the cat will be alive. I want your race to survive the next challenge and sadly I fear things are moving temporarily faster than I would like."


    "Are you saying that Emilio''s role in the current events is not what it seems to us?"


    "Very perceptive Milly. Precisely. All I know is that as of today, if the game stops, I fear the days of your race are numbered. If the game continues, your race stands a chance to see the next step."


    "How?"


    "I can''t say more. I beg, one day you will thank me for my silence."


    Milly understood what Georges meant. She felt so small. The universe was vast, alive, and human science truly was in its infancy. The game and President Emilio had a role to play in what was going on.


    ***


    In the Berlin diner where President Emilio was becoming nervous by the turn of events, he couldn''t help but smile. This was the best validation of his intuition. His plans were important and relevant. He turned to his lieutenant Patrick and simply said, "We have work to do."

 Chapter 47

    The Purple Dimension


    "Liam, are you still there?" spoke young girl floating in the light Purple world.


    ~ Sorry to have shocked them away. We have a reputation in the Lower, they are truly annoying ~he tried to explain, ~ I did declare war on them a short time ago for daring to attack your world. Happy to see they took me seriously. ~


    "You defended us?¡±


    - Yes, but in full honesty, I would have done the same had they attacked any other world.-


    ¡°They looked petrified.¡±


    ~ They should be, ~ said the elder, proud of himself. ~ I threatened them with mass destruction unless they changed course. The Metils sadly follow only one course: the most violent path. Too many races remain close to that instinctual layer we talked about earlier. I fear your world may be in danger. ~


    "No need to be judgmental." Sophie looked around. In the vastness of this purple space, millions of little spinning objects were appearing like bubbles. She had not seen thisthe last time she entered this place with the creature in her dream. She looked the blooming rocks. These were growing debris like mushrooms or popcorn coming in existence from nothing.


    "Liam, what do you think those are? A weapon?" Sophie loved having an invisible companion.


    The little floating structures looked to like pieces of strawberry granola hitting each other in some type of exploding popcorn motion. Each floating rock was different yet similar like a kaleidoscope of colors. Some of these could be living structures.


    ~ See how these things grow, I believe our own size is unstable. These structures are not really growing; I fear we are shrinking. The Purple is a pure wave worlds, it has no real matter. Everything you see is not really there. -


    ¡°What about those?¡± she pointed.


    - You are the Attractor, if these worlds, my world did not have some physical reality, you would be unable to understand and view them. I believe your own mind and the Multiverse is constructing these things to help you travel. ~


    ¡°This is crazy.¡±


    - Cute one, we communicate, I speak your language and even just used the word ¡®cute¡¯ which is a foreign concept in my reality. The powers the Multiverse is giving you are beyond imagination.-


    "What can we do?"


    ~ The weapon is forcing us to shrink out of the world. We appear to be shrinking fast. Try to imagine yourself as if you are growing, getting larger. See yourself back at the size you were at the time of our arrival. You can also look at a piece of rock and image it getting smaller. ~


    Sophie had no eyes, but in her mind of this ghost form, she imagined what Liam had just suggested. With some effort, one rock stopped growing and stabilized at the size of a mountain, then it began slowly to shrink in size. Liam was right; they were shrinking. Slowly, with concentration, the scaling stopped. As if someone had hit a rewind button, the debris began to shrink back down into smoke. The purple color of the world returned.


    ~ We are back! How wonderful! Truly exceptional. ~


    She opened her mental eyes.


    "Where are we?"


    ~ It seems we are back where we arrived. Look to the left, in the distance. Notice the difference in color in this area. We spoke of how the darker purple zones must be their cities. The creatures live from warm areas where energy seeps in from the stars from your own world. We must find the one linked with your Sun. ~


    "This darker spot is the location of our Sun? You just said this world was smaller than ours."


    ~ You are a quick learner. That is correct. Distances, like sizes, vary in every world, often strangely. The only thing constant is the direction of time. In every layer of the Multiverse, time unfolds in one direction: forward. It does, however, unfold at varying speeds in different places. ~


    Sophie was intrigued by the concept of an alien city.


    "Sun creatures, I like it. Why are you upset at them?"


    ~ The inhabitants of this particular place have broken several rules of the code of conduct that exists between worlds. We, from the Lower, are the enforcers of these rules. ~


    "Your race is powerful. Do you know what we look like to them?"


    ~ Good question. I have no idea. ~


    "You told me no one can walk between worlds. Why would they expect to see you here?"


    ~ You are right, those were my words. No one can directly come here. These are not the brightest creatures. Generally, my race conducts retribution indirectly between worlds. We can always increase or decrease the energy pouring into this place. Energy seeps naturally between worlds in many different ways; energy always originates in one place and goes to another. What we can do is regulate these flows. We generally abhor doing so, because it forces the Multiverse out of equilibrium. We cannot know the purpose of the Multiverse. ~


    ~ The Metils are primitive in many ways. They do not understand the rule of impermeability, nor any of the Multiverse''s other laws You already have a deeper knowledge of worlds than most here. They found and opened a communication door, and as the rules require, we had to connect it to the Nexus. They must think our arrival here is somehow linked with the coming war. I am puzzled by their vast understanding of your world. ~


    "Well, isn''t my arrival linked with the war?"


    ~ Again, young one, you shame me with your wisdom. ~


    "Liam! Don''t take this the wrong way, but all this world stuff is getting way too complicated. If I learned one thing since the accident that took my family, it''s this: don''t sweat the details. I just want to save my father, be with him, and give him joy before he leaves me. If I was picked, it''s because I''m easy to predict. Or maybe Electoral is playing games here. Maybe you''re only part of the computer reality. All this could be of her doing. I''d never know the difference."


    ~ I cannot give you the reassurances you seek. If our interaction is made up, this would be a rather sadistic game to play on one such as you. ~


    Sophie was on a long road, far from where she really needed to be. She had been lost before, when the courts first ruled against her and refused to give her custody of her father. She then went to Mars, then to the stupid Center, and now she was lost here, in a different world. She just had to be herself, keep calm, and think.


    "I think I know how to get out."


    ~ You do? ~


    "Yes. If this was really a world, a different place, we would not be simply ghosts. This means we are part of my dream. My body is home. I assume we are both in my mind, I am stuck in my own dream, unable to enter my father''s mind."This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ~ I am not one to disagree. You are the Attractor. I am here to help. ~


    She looked around. In the distance far away, she could distinguish structures andactivity, as if she had some type of super-vision. "What''s in the city?"


    ~ What do you mean? Buildings, I would suppose. ~ He was dying to see it more closely, but he kept his curiosity to himself.


    In the distance, the complexity of what she could see was amazing. From up close, it probably was even more spectacular. In the vastness between two deeper-colored spots existed millions of floating grains of rock, each cut like a gem. They all had different colors flashing inside of them and were like popcorn exploding and merging into different shapes. Some of the gems seemed to be animated of free will, like fish swimming together in banks. She was curious.


    "Liam..."


    ~ Yes Sophie, ~ his voice was filled with admiration.


    "I like you. I''m happy you''re here. I only hope once I wake up, you''ll still be with me. I''m so lonely sometimes, and it makes everything seem so much harder. Will you stay?"


    ~ Nothing would please me more. ~ The creature was genuine.


    "This place has its charms. Sorry, but it looks much better than your brown world. No wonder you were so sad. Brown is the color of dirt back on Earth."


    ~ Sophie, how many colors exist in your world? ~


    "Millions. The only beautiful thing in your place was you." She felt the compliment was warmly received. "Do yo dream?" she continued.


    The question surprised him. ~ Yes. ~


    "Do all life-forms dream?"


    ~ In one fashion or another, yes. Why do you ask? ~


    "You will see my father. All he has left is a dream of some type. I must use a machine to enter his mind and join his dream. I have been wondering for a while what is the difference between a dream-world and reality. Why do we dream? It seems strange to me that dreaming would be found in other places. If dream is an illusion, my father is gone. If dream is a reality, he still exists."


    ~ We have no true answer to this question. I do not want to bother you with more theories. I wish I could help. I want to meet your father, in dream or reality. I am sure he misses you. It seems like your first priority is to him. That is very sweet. You want to connect with him, where is he? ~


    "Back in my world, he is sleeping and connected to a large machine. I used the machine hoping to connect to him; that''s when I arrived in your world. Now we are here."


    ~ Having a father with limited abilities is uncommon in your world? ~


    "Oh yes. Extremely rare. My dad is the only one in his situation. Why?"


    ~ What has happened to him was rare, very rare, or impossible? ~


    "Absolutely impossible! He is clinically dead! Died many times. No one understands why he is still around. Why? Does that change anything?"


    ~ To me it does. If you do not mind the delay, there are some important concepts I would love to teach you, so that you can make informed decisions once we reach the city. That is our next destination, right? ~ Sophie''s companion was talking out of kindness, she felt it.


    "I have not booted up my school tutor in a long time, way too long. I guess a class will not hurt me."


    ~ Of all the souls in the Multiverse, the burden of Attraction was placed upon you, ~ he began. She interrupted him.


    "Did you say soul?"


    ~ Yes. ~


    "There are souls? What happens after we die?"


    ~ I assume your world''s science is still at a stage before the godly concepts have been uncovered. These are difficult concepts to explain. Do you want me to do so? ~


    "Once you die, what happens? My mother died, is she still here?"


    ~ Yes, of sorts. We never really die. Every living creature feels as much in its heart. Even before we can retrieve our past lives, their presence lingers in our mind. We feel connected, attached. You do not? ~


    "So people resurrect?"


    ~ It is not that simple. Most souls pass between worlds. Impermeability only limits your body. The passage is made in a very strange energy form, not waves but pulses. The trauma of passage wipes away most memories. In many places, the flow of this energy is regulated. It is a crime to interfere with it. It must be hard not knowing about it. ~


    "I heard my mother talk to me, in my head. I figured I was crazy."


    ~ You are the Attractor. By nature you attract energy. I would not be surprised if you would have a way to contact her. What is the last time you spoke with her? ~


    "In the plane, going to Mars. That was yesterday. She told me all would be fine."


    ~ I would love to tell you she is right. I urge you to understand Attraction. You must know about who you are. It is too easy for you to disrupt the natural balance of things. The Multiverse needs you to do one thing. If you do the wrong one, I fear your world and this one will vanish. ~


    Sophie was suddenly nervous. Liam was right, she was unique, special. She remembered crying on the way to the hospital, in the ambulance on that awful rainy night. Her father''s corpse was next to her, covered in blood. He was dead. She bent over, and willed for him not to leave. She cried all the tears her eyes could pour. Then, as if by miracle, a heartbeat returned. The shock to the ambulance staff forced the vehicle to veer off. It burst into flames. Her father died again, and again. Each time her tears brought him back.


    In the hospital, and later at home, she had willed him to return. Each time it worked. It was all her fault. Laurent was a miserable cripple because of her waves. That was horrific. Instead of going with his mother in the other world, he was stuck here with her. She also only saved him, not her mother. That thought was even harder to accept. What type of awful daughter was she?


    She gazed around the purple space, her mind elsewhere. She felt Liam. He felt her distress.


    "I am a bad person."


    ~ No! ~


    "I killed my mother, my brother. My father is even worse off than dead because of me!"


    ~ Stop this! ~ the voice was paternal. It was the voice of an elder, of a man who knew better. ~ How dare you second guess your gift! You may be the only thing standing between the destruction of hundreds of worlds. Untold numbers of innocent children. Peace itself. If there is one thing I know, is that things align for a reason. You must learn of the Attraction. ~ He was reassuring her. ~ You must know there are two competing universal theories, each is equally as absurd to me. The question is, why would a large thing such as the Multiverse ever care about the actions of one little girl? ~


    ~ First, what I know to be true.You, young lady, are called the Attractor and were given a gift designed to align things that, without you, could never align. You must create a set of desired events that will culminate in a solution to a problem that is unknown and important only to the Multiverse. I have been chosen to help you because, after almost two billion years, I have finally understood why you and yourself alone are unique. Our Universe has an itch, a problem it cannot solve, and you have been given the power to achieve what otherwise cannot be achieved. ~


    "What must happen? What does the Multiverse want?"


    ~ I wish I knew. In fact, if I could understand what it needs, the Multiverse would have picked me. So I can safely assume, however hard I try, I cannot conceive of what it needs. The last four attractions have failed. Each time resulting in the destruction of entire layers of the Multiverse. ~


    ~ I hope you see its beauty and simplicity in the Sixth Attraction. Something in the future has to happen; I call it the desirable consequence. Only the Multiverse knows what it is. The Multiverse likes numbers, shuffling, and what appears to us as randomness. Our Multiverse can use numerosity to generate consequence. Each time the Multiverse needs something, using this numerosity, and given enough time, it will get its way. ~


    ~ Imagine the Multiverse wants a very unique piece of art.- He concentrated and pulled a name from her memory the same way Malik pulled Le Petit Prince in Laurent¡¯s mind. - It wants the Mona Lisa. It creates a race with millions of artists, and given enough time, one of them will do the Multiverse''s bidding and paint that unique piece. That artist will wonder why him? There is one artist, one person only who can do the bidding. Today, what the Multiverse wants is so beautiful and so complex that no race, no artist anywhere can create it. Since there are no possible natural causes that can create the needed consequence, the Multiverse no longer can use its normal easy way to do things. It then moves to the next best thing: Attraction. I think, now I know, Attraction is the beautiful way for the Multiverse to work to get result in rare cases. It grabs the right sculptor, the one player closer to the goal in a game, but if left alone would not create the painting. It then gives the painter unique tools, a power, and hopes to get its way. ~


    ~ The last four Attractors were unable to figure it out. I do think the way to find out is to find what the sculpture is designed for; the purpose of your existence is key. I think the Multiverse has an itch to scratch, something it needs you to do. Maybe someone is about to damage it, and you must simply prevent this damage from occurring. ~


    "Then what?" Her guest was silent. "Where do we start?"


    ~ Here. ~


    "What?"


    ~ Instants before you arrived in my world, something very important happened, ~ Liam explained ~ I was informed on our communication bridge by the Metil Ambassador that a young creature from this world, a boy named Malik, made contact with you and is now in your world. The Metils have a plan to create some interference in your world. They plan to extend your living area. I am unclear about what that exactly involves, because I do not know the precise nature of your reality. ~


    "Liam, I am only a child."


    ~ We are well paired. I am the oldest creature in the Multiverse. The Multiverse asked me to help, and trust me, I will. Age is no predicate to wisdom; it''s generally the other way around. ~


    "This Malik, the firefly as I call him, we must find him. He passed between worlds like me. He is part of the puzzle like you and I."


    The strange couple began to move in the direction of the city. She just needed to find Malik, and at the same time she would find her father. At least that was the plan.

 Chapter 48

    Their flight through the Purple resumed.


    ~ Sophie, how old are you? ~


    "Twelve." The number proved rather useless without additional data. He did not want to burden her.


    ~ How do you measure your age? ~


    "These are years, we have seasons. Four seasons in a year. Why?"


    ~ We need to find the age of this Malik creature. it is possible you both were born at the same moment. The Multiverse loves these types of non-coincidences. Was there any important event in your world on the moment of your birth? ~


    "None that I can recall. Boring day, November 21. Why?"


    ~ The Multiverse stacks alignments. Each time it does anything, timing is always very fortuitous. The last four Attractions were driven by dates. Maybe I am seeing too much in this. ~


    "Well, the last five did not work, you said. Maybe the date thing was not really that important. I''m more of a spur-of-the-moment girl. I like to flow with things. But this year my birthday will be special."


    ~ How so? ~


    "The finale of the Electoral 2072 simulation, run by Marilyn. It will be on that day."


    ~ The creature which used you to grab the Dot? ~


    "Yes. Is that important?"


    ~ Most definitely. ~


    "How so?"


    ~ That, I do not know. ~


    As they approached the deeper zone in the Purple, the rock formations increased in complexity. size. If they were in one of Electoral''s made-up game worlds, and this was deception, she had outdone herself. The capital of the Metils was more complex than the most creative imagination. Only a creative artist, with a very unique mental state had dreamt of this place edging on sanity. All structures with millions of colored rocks formed walls, houses and cities. Giving life was movement, orbiting pieces twisting around each other exchanging flashes of light.


    This was no simple city, it stretched for leagues in every direction. There were massive houses and castles that felt like beehives or underground ant colonies. Here, the living creatures were formed by thousands of orbiting rocks between which, hundreds of little flashes of color were jumping back and forth. The light resulted from rocks gently rubbing against each other. Liam¡¯s powerful mind wrestled with the complexity of the tableau.


    Sophie expected resistance or security forces, but everyone moved aside and remained silent as they travelled slowly into the largest alley to the heart of the city. She was in awe of the place, the creature maybe were hostile but this was gorgeous. On Earth, streets were flat, and generally located on the ground. Here, everything was in every direction. In this nest, the small creatures heeded way as the pair made its way. Sophie had no clue what the creatures saw, but it was a sight hard to ignore by these bowing locals. She knew the stable rocks were some type of dwellings for the Metils.


    With time, they passed what were probably suburbs to arrive in the heart of the city. There were millions of little blocks of different shapes and sizes forming these structures. Sophie knew her father, or even the blond computer, could not dream anything this weird. At the center of the city was some type of large palace. A structure made of hundreds of millions of rocks. Sophie felt she was in downtown New York, at the heart of a Macy''s parade going on in every direction.


    "This is so crazy," finally let out the girl to her companion. The Oldest way trying to hold tears of joy, he was doing a poor job at it but Sophie wasn¡¯t one to intrude.


    Finally Liam spoke, ~ Truly a sight to behold. You cannot know how long I have waited to see this. Sophie, I owe you so much already. You have given sense to my endless solitude and purpose to my existence. ~


    "What is that?" she asked, slowing down in front of the large structure.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ~ They call this place the Palace of the Continuum. Here is where their governing body works. You must know, this race kills and dismantles their own rather casually. In the Lower, life is rare and highly prized. Here, life is rather less so. ~


    "They eat each other?"


    ~ No! ~ Her friend''s reaction was one of sheer horror.


    "In my world we eat animals. We do have vegetarians, though."


    ~ You eat life? ~


    She knew he was uneasy. "Yes, I am sorry. Is that okay?"


    ~ Not really, but I always figured that life, if it exists in your world, would be rare, like in my world. ~ Sophie wanted to change the topic, she knew he tried not to be judgmental but disapproved. She pushed on.


    As they moved deeper into the city, the world around them became more frequently animated and agitated. Someone or something had given orders not to engage them and move aside. Sophie began to notice order in this chaos. Some of the structures were vehicles moving creatures of this world around. Other structures helped regulate traffic. This was a real world, with real individuals, like ants in a colony. The only difference was the intangibility; many portions of these creatures were transparent, like pure energy. They moved back and forth between rocks, and once absorbed by a rock, produced a colorful gem. She was no scientist, but clearly she had to try to memorize what she saw. One day she would have to describe this.


    She was in a three-dimension jungle of small rocks, orbiting other rocks pushed aside by flashes of colorful energy.


    "Here," said Sophie. Their movement toward the center stopped.


    Liam saw a structure in front of him. It like every other. The dwelling was made of millions of little bricks and blocks, some of them were spinning. Sophie got closer and stopped in front of what seemed like the entry door.


    ~ Why are you stopping here? ~


    "I saw a flash of blue. Look at that color. Do you see it?"


    The house was made of rocks spinning in different patterns. Most of the shades were red hues, some were yellow, orange.


    "Right there in the back." She was unable to point at anything in particular.


    Liam looked closer. There was so much to look at. The rocks, as they touched and gently came into contact with each other and released little bursts of colored lights, like energy bursts.


    ~ Sophie, what should I look for? ~


    "There, the color blue."


    ~ I do not know blue. ~


    "Who is in there?" yelled Sophie at the wall of rocks. "Come out."


    Outside in the city there was silence. The fear in the streets was palpable. Hundreds were hiding in fear. She barked the order again. Slowly a Metil floated out. At first it appeared like the others, made of thousands of little rocks orbiting.


    "Why are you different?"


    ¡°I... I am not different,¡± said the scared female voice.


    "You are."


    ¡°No, no, I am not different.¡±


    "Yes, there... You have a little portion shining a different color."


    ¡°I do not understand,¡± said the scared little creature. She was very upset.


    "That rock. It keeps moving. Each time it touches something, it shines in a different color."


    A different voice came from behind. "Enough!" It was a male voice. Sophie recognized the voice of the rude military man who first made contact.


    "You again?" she said forcefully and with annoyance.


    "Leave this creature to be. Follow me. The Council wants to speak to you." This creature was seriously getting on Sophie''s nerves. She hated being bossed around. "Arrest her," said the voice. They were referring to the individual with a spark of blue. Sophie knew the creature she just discovered was unique in some way, and because of her intervention, she now was in trouble.


    "You are arresting no one," said Sophie to the floating rock bully.


    "She has an inversion, she belongs to us. The Council," began the creature.


    Sophie reacted instinctively. She just yelled in the direction of the creature.


    "Enough!"


    What came next was unexpected.


    As if she just had released a wave of energy, every little rock forming the annoying Metil was hit and reduced to the smallest of powder. Her words had just killed it. There were gasps all around. People here were beyond panic, they were gripped with fear unable to move or talk. Each creature¡¯s vibrating energy increased like it was shaking.


    "Oops," thought Sophie to herself. She could hear in her head Liam think, ''well deserved.''


    ***


    Then the colors around her began to fade.


    The world disappeared slowly.


    Sophie opened her eyes and saw the doctor''s face.


    "She''s back!" The doctor exclaimed. "Finally!"


    She was in a thick bed and not in the tube.


    "Why am I here?"


    The voice of Marilyn Monroe replied from a distance over the Doctor¡¯s shoulder, ¡°Did you think about Oscar, the white dog?¡±


    "Yes, a while ago."


    ¡°I saw a peak, a signal. I apologize. I pulled you out immediately, you probably were in a place with a different time.¡±


    "I never entered my father''s mind," said Sophie waking up slowly. She was alone in a nice girl bedroom with the doctor, the others were absent.


    ¡°Did you see anything, did you find him?¡±


    "I saw something different. How long was I gone?"


    The doctor replied, ¡°A little under a week. We all were nervous.¡±


    Then there was a voice in Sophie''s head.


    ~ Amazing! ~ said Liam in her mind. Susie did not hear it.


    Sophie smiled. Liam, her friend, was still with her.


    Sophie stood up, on screens she should see the face of the computer goddess, ¡°Marilyn, did you just hear another voice?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she answered.


    ~ Perfect, ~ said Liam in her mind. - That is the creature who store the Dot?-


    Sophie stayed silent.

 Chapter 49

    CNN Studios, Earth


    "We have excellent news to report," said one of the two CNN anchors to well over half the human population watching the show.


    "What is it, John?" bounced back his beautiful co-anchor.


    On Earth, nearly everyone with a pulse watched eagerly. Viewers forced to be at work polished dishes or did some other minor task with eyes drawn on a wall-mounted flat screen. Others were sitting or standing like zombies, watching the show using the contact lenses called Screenlenzs. Seventy-one percent of the human population was logged into the Electoral 2072 system, ready to watch Round 26, the live show of the century.


    Large red letters flashed on the screen, they read:


    -- Breaking News from the Electoral Center --


    "John?"


    "I am getting breaking news from Milly Wong, our famous Mars journalist imbedded in the Electoral Center with the Lapierre family. We interrupt this pre-game broadcast to report that after many long, interminable days when it was feared that Sophie had become lost inside of her father''s mind, she has indeed returned. The precious darling is finally back amongst us. I am told she is now awake, and that her doctor gave a clean bill of health. What a relief. These last days of international outrage seem to have been for naught."


    "Are you serious? What fantastic news." The sincerity in the co-anchor''s voice was apparent. "Does that mean Sophie''s father Laurent can enter Electoral and play Round 26? As all our viewers know, Marilyn Monroe refused to connect Laurent to the game unless Sophie, his legal guardian, was able to give consent. This rigid application of the rules by the computer system came to most as a complete shock as she argued a merged mind can¡¯t enter her world." There was a lengthy dramatic pause, and he resumed. "Round 26 is due to start in minutes. Laurent is moments away from disqualification, which would virtually guarantee President Sanchez''s reelection. Laurent fell into a coma a week ago while traveling to Mars, for reasons still unknown. We have had no update about the condition of his mind or his ability to continue competing. We hope Sophie helped him while connectedfor so long."


    Journalists were masters at creating drama and keeping boring events exciting. This situation needed no enhancement. On the screen, both anchors had their fingers crossed. The man touched the microphone in his ear as if to tone out the set''s noise, "I am told Sophie just agreed to let her father connect to Electoral 2072 even though she has been unable to speak to him directly. That''s very strange. Where has she been these last few days?"


    "Everything is simply moving too fast. There are too many unanswered questions. Who knows, maybe the technology of those Rho chambers on Mars still has glitches." The excitement on the set was palpable. The anchor continued, "Sophie has agreed, grudgingly, to let her father connect and play. They are hooking up Laurent''s mind to the game as we speak. He will use his neuro-jack connection, and it will be paired with the high technology of the Rho chamber on Mars. What a turn of events. Minutes ago we were looking at Laurent''s imminent disqualification, and now Laurent enters the game using the best technology around."


    "We can confirm here at CNN, Laurent Lapierre, Sophie¡¯s poor crippled father is back in the race. His name is amongst the remaining 127 players logged in the software. All of the legal protests have been dropped, and we have a green light to proceed with the broadcast from his mind. At this time, we can only cross our fingers and hope he is intact from last week''s terrorist attack in the Airbus, which nearly crippled the vessel''s ability to decelerate. This game is out of Sophie''s hands and back in her father''s. What an exciting turn of events."


    John felt the viewers needed some context. He unplugged his earpiece and spoke off-prompter. "For the last twenty-four hours, we have been reporting violence and public outcry from all over the world. No one understood the strange decision from the regulators of the Electoral 2072 competition to change the timing of the rounds to be played. They moved the date of the next round ahead by a full two days in what could only be described as an effort to disqualify Laurent as Sophie slept in that tube. Nothing seemed to justify the change in schedule. It cried for a suspension of the game, not an acceleration of the schedule. If Laurent is sick, he needs time to heal. Many feared this change in timing was a power grab."


    The producers were silent and listened as the man improvised. There was emotion in his voice, and this made fantastic television. The anchor knew he needed to conclude; time was short. "The fact that neither the President nor Marilyn took responsibility raised the public''s level of frustration. Sophie''s brave attempt to rescue her father on live TV was heroic. She is the definition of bravery. At such a young age, this can only reinforce our admiration for this virtual orphan. If Laurent had somehow been disqualified during the rescue, there would have been a civil revolt. The plan by these politicians appears to have backfired. Laurent and Sophie are back in the game, and the pair''s popularity has soared to new heights. He is now first in public perception."


    The CNN ratings were also at their highest. They were the only station with a journalist located inside the Electoral Center, and they were raking in billions in advertising. Anyone with half a brain opened the computer on their frequency. The anchors knew Milly Wong was ready to broadcast, microphone in hand LIVE from the Center.


    John calmed himself. Julie reached over and placed her hand on his shoulder. She continued, "Laurent will now play and connect to the software using the controversial neuro-patch. We all hope he is healed. Marilyn suggested that was the case. Once more, Laurent''s luck pays off. Any one of the 126 other players still in the game could have filed a complaint requesting that Laurent be forced to use the same technology as they do. They are at the Hotel and don¡¯t gave his patch or even the cradle he is in. That''s a very simple rule of fairness. But Laurent was already facing disqualification, no one imagined to waste their time with another complaint. In minutes, Laurent goes from impending elimination to holding a strategic advantage over Emilio himself. Good for him. We are praying Laurent can make good use of Marilyn''s Rho tubes and crush the game about to start."


    She winked at the camera. "We all hope Laurent''s mind is intact and he will be able to play."


    "Given that Sophie¡¯s journey into her father''s mind took a little under a week, I am a bit sad to think Sophie never spoke with him. That was the silver lining to most." John continued, "The official reason given for the change in schedule by the regulators is the split of the final. The last scenario will now be held on two different days. Take a look at the new dates."


    A calendar appeared on the screen.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Round 26 - 127 players (Now)


    Round 27 - 64 players (October 29)


    Round 28 - 32 players (October 31)


    Round 29 - 16 players (November 3)


    Round 30 - 8 players - Quarter final (November 7)


    Round 31 - 4 players - Semi final (November 15)


    Round 32 - 2 players - Final part 1 (November 18)


    Round 32 - 2 players - Final part 2 (November 21)


    "What remains unchanged is the last day of the competition. The last portion of the finale will still take place on the 21st of November."


    CNN was required to broadcast the rankings of the top players still in the game, and the anchors veered their commentary to comply. "At the conclusion today''s scoring round, half of the participants will be dropped. Since we had the misfortune of losing one player during the inbound flight to Mars, only 63 players instead of the usual 64 will be eliminated. Don''t feel bad for them. Just remember, their scores have already qualified them for a job as a member of the lower chamber of the Congress, an excellent job with a good salary. Past Round 26, they are just playing for cabinet positions, ministries and the position of President."


    The game schedule was replaced with a list of names.


    President Emilio Sanchez - 2,434 points


    Laurent Lapierre - 2,267 points


    Mathilda Proux - 1,855 points


    N''Bele Abukaye - 1,854 points


    Fianc¨¦ Lee - 1,854 points


    Julian Velev - 1,854 points


    Stanley Block - 1,853 points


    Marie Lalancette - 1,853 points


    Ji-Ing Po - 1,853 points


    Bukoye BoLi - 1,853 points


    "As you can see, with a maximum of one hundred points awarded during each round, and after having played a total of 25 rounds, the largest number of points any player could have secured was 2,500. The President lost about three points each round and has an almost perfect score. That alone defies any logic when we see how the game is scored. Since he has been scoring so high for three election cycles now, we have gotten used to it. Laurent is Emilio¡¯s only serious contender for the finale, losing only 10 points each round. Laurent and Emilio are leagues above everyone else.


    "The other 125 players are within a five-point pocket," she continued, "They are more than three hundred points behind Laurent and the leader. That is utterly insane." He rolled the last word on his tongue. "The mere fact that the two front runners have managed to distance themselves from this pack of nearly a billion is a statistical impossibility, but who cares, right? There are seven rounds left to qualify for the finale, so unless there is a disqualification, which almost just happened, everyone else is only there for the free trip to Mars and an experience of a lifetime."


    "What if Laurent''s mind is gone, that will disqualify him, right?"


    "Shush!" He ignored her words and continued, "Once in the finale itself, the points of both finalists are wiped clean. It''s a winner take all. The loser becomes Vice-President, a nice consolation prize. The winner will be elected President. It''s a two-man race at this point; no one disputes that." Around the world, everything was on hold. Everyone with a pulse had connected to the system to watch. Cars were stopped halfway to their destinations on the side of roads. Even factories were closed, and most governments declared a national holiday.


    There was a thirty-second commercial break. The car company paid three billions of credits to buy this time. The commercial message was touching. A new car stopped on an empty road; the window opened, and a man holding the wheel looked at the camera and wished all the contestants luck and skill. Before the seconds were over, the broadcast resumed. "I am sorry, but we must interrupt." Television stations never cut in over a paying customer unless there was a critical need. John said, "Milly Wong, our live reporter from the Electoral Center has an update on Sophie''s condition.¡±


    The images cut to her, ¡°How are things up there?" now said the anchor¡¯s voice.


    Milly was standing in the Electoral finale room surrounded by the thirty-two empty Rho tubes. Thanks to the Electoral technology, Milly was speaking live even though she was millions of miles away.


    "John, Julie, as you both can imagine, everyone here on Mars is relieved. We were worried sick for Sophie. Seven days in a coma is a long time for anyone, much less the first teen interplanetary traveler. Susie Shin was simply awesome. She spent hours massaging those little legs so our sweetheart would keep her body functions as healthy as possible. We all know Doctor Shin is no stranger to comatose patients; she has been caring for Laurent for well over a year now. Very possibly the strangest medical assignment anyone has ever held."


    The journalist was standing next to the shapeless pink body of Laurent. His scarf was wrapped around one end, with the lifeless form tethered to the center cradle of the Electoral room. Both rows of sixteen tubes aligned in a curved configuration like a Roman coliseum. The walls behind Milly, flush with large monitors, scrolled a flood of data.


    "How is Sophie?" asked the journalist from Earth. "Did you speak with her?"


    "Yes, I did. John, Julie, as you know, aside from the President playing from Earth and Laurent resting next to me, all other 125 players are hooked up to their gloves and wearing their contact lenses back at the Holiday Inn Mars. The majestic hotel is about a hundred miles away from where I stand. This magnificent structure is about one mile above ground level. I did have the honor of speaking with Sophie the moment she woke up. She is back to her grumpy old self. In fact, after running to see her father''s body, she ran back to her bedroom across the hall. She kicked me out of her bedroom." Milly decided not to play that footage. "Marilyn was there, on the screens lining each wall, begging the girl to make a decision and consent to Laurent''s connection. We all love Sophie, and we all know how much she hates being pressured into any decision. She was unhappy with the need to move quickly and trust me; you did not want to be in Marilyn''s shoes during that exchange. Sophie used the expression ''tin-can'' describing her when she learned about today''s game."


    Everyone on Earth watching the show smiled. In their hearts, they all forgave the young lady and could easily imagine the brunette yelling at the blond.


    "Any news on Laurent''s condition? Can you confirm if Laurent is ready to play?" demanded Julie.


    "That remains unclear. We have no update as to his condition. Sophie said she spent no time in his head. That is strange. We witnessed an odd event in Sophie''s room. Electoral''s Rho detectors had exploded seconds before the girl awoke. Sophie said something we could not distinguish. She said one word, sounded like "miam." Marilyn ignored the comment and immediately got her approval to connect Laurent. Sophie was extremely upset to be given no time to act." Journalists liked to repeat themselves.


    Georges, Electoral''s creator and programmer, was sitting at his console a few feet behind the reporter. He was at his station monitoring the feed of the 125 remote players.Dr. Shin hunched over Laurent''s form. She was closely monitoring the reading of the new Rho monitor on her forearm. Susie liked the new technology, it gave her insight into her patient, but she had no clue what numbers meant.


    "As you can imagine," said Milly, "Marilyn only told us to watch the broadcast for greater clarification as to his condition. We should find out live on the air if Laurent is fine and can play. But I can say this: Marilyn, in her usual demeanor, finished the conversation with a wink and an enormous smile. She is obviously not scared of what is coming next. To me, that means Laurent is fine. We will find out very soon."


    "She is such a show-off."


    "Indeed!" confirmed the journalist. Behind Milly, Georges looked over his shoulder in her direction. In a rare show of emotion, the big man smiled at the Asian woman. Electoral was right, he liked the journalist.


    John continued, "Milly, I apologize, my producer says the Electoral broadcast is going live in five," as he countdown from Earth, "four," the images behind Milly Wong in the Mars command room also counted down, "three, two, and one."


    The game started. To everyone around the world except one man, what transpired in the game was the most important event of modern times. The President wasn¡¯t really feeling it.

 Chapter 50

    The President, Emilio Sanchez was no ordinary man. Skill or luck alone had not given him the two Presidencies, there was more. The man had a secret which had died along with his mother a couple of years ago. He was not only better at the game, he was different than other humans in a very unique and secret way. No one had ever managed to extract out of him. The President was no superhero, no comic-book mutant, but his brain was wired differently.


    Young Sanchez was born with what felt like a curse, a condition that he only recently managed to turn into a gift. The first thing baby Emilio saw as he discovered the world were the faces of his family members dying multiple times each hour. Unless he, as a toddler closed his eyes, he would see images of people do violent things: hit him, jump into traffic, as if he was having the types of vision usually enabled by LSD. The child cried for months. His brain forced him to see patterns, roads, or doors, as he called them. As if a mad director was torturing him, his mind kept playing, as quickly as it could, alternate futures for him in dangerous situations. It took a decade for his brain to begin to control these images, to sort them in a way where he could finally have what seemed like a normal life.


    As a toddler, he cried uncontrollably at the sight of any change around him. His parents could not understand why baby Emilio kept being scared of everyone. He did not like toys, mirrors, visitors... the list of his dislikes was endless. Doctors and psychologists were unable to diagnose his condition. When his parents strapped him into his car seat for a car ride, baby Emilio saw nothing at every intersection but car floods, violent crashes, cars flying off of cliffs, and fire, fire everywhere.


    The fear would end when they covered him with a blanket, but his parents refused to lock him away. Emilio learned to keep the cries to himself and simply close his eyes when he needed time alone. Heights were equally difficult to manage; he saw himself slide off ledges and die, he saw others walk off balconies and fall. In his over active mind''s eye, he watched every elevator cable in which he stepped snap. He lived for years in his own private horror movies.


    For normal humans, such visions do come but they are rare and fleeting. They come if at all, when standing on a transparent ledge over the Grand Canyon, or when strapping oneself to an amusement park ride. There, people see themselves fall and fear the edge. Not so for Emilio, he grew up in a permanent state of vertigo. Anyone else would have been driven mad by the visions, but Emilio somehow got used to them. They became part of him.


    As the young man progressed through childhood, his brain''s wiring began to change. He no longer saw death at every corner, but instead he saw complex alternate futures of possible realistic outcomes. At six, he was living in a permanent guessing game. When someone knocked at the door of his house, his brain generated images of the most probable visitors likely to walk in. After a knock, he saw images of his father opening the door, then his grandmother, or even his aunt. Images flooded until the door actually opened and his mind snapped back to reality showing him who was actually on the other side of the door.


    The important thing to remember is that young Emilio had no way to know he was abnormal. With age, the accuracy of his predictions improved. By the time he was a teen, he rarely was surprised by the outcome of his visions. The images were no longer linked with events like a door knock, or a phone call, but instead were connected to a clock. By the age of fourteen, time regulated his life. His brain was changing, adapting yet again. He had no way to understand what was happening to him.


    The clock was his drug and his salvation. It helped him, reassured him.


    For every living thing close to him, he kept a close timeline in his mind of what they were probably doing. To him, his personal timelines were like a chess master playing fifty simultaneous chessboards blindfolded. He recalled sitting in class, lost in thought per usual, and knowing the principal would knock on the door. For almost an hour, he hesitated between a knock at 10:34:09 or 10:34:12. Earlier that morning, he had seen the man looking for the student who was responsible for a prank in the schoolyard. In his mind, he could see the man walk from classroom to classroom. He could see each class visit, each door the man opened.Stolen story; please report.


    Then it happened: the principal knocked on the door and walked in, just as young Emilio had played in his mind. It was precisely 10:34:12. He had guessed the outcome. In silence, he felt proud of himself. He was a movie producer sitting in front of screens with different outcomes as he imagined them. He learned to hide this gift. The smallest evidence of his talent, any sign of a premonition given to the other students led immediately to fear and ridicule.


    Emilio mostly kept to himself until he became an adult. His only guilty pleasure was playing chess. Quickly, he became school chess champion and was so strong, he was paired by the teacher with a computer. He loved playing the machine, he could not use his curse to guess its moves.


    One day the school''s chess team went to a demonstration given by the champion of the world playing the best students of Mexico. Emilio''s teacher and parents forced him to go. He needed little arm-twisting. They figured he would do well, and the young adolescent needed some self-esteem.


    Each kid was placed in front of a board on the outer edge of tables placed in a large circle. The champion made his way around the inside of the circle, playing each child one move at a time. The champ played white. The tall man grabbed a piece on Emilio''s board and moved it. Emilio was nervous. The man moved E2-E4. Emilio reached for a piece; all the possible outcomes, all the variants, began to flash before his eyes. In each scenario, he saw himself lose the game. He moved his hand above a different piece: again, in every scenario he could foresee that he would lose the game. There was no piece he touched that showed him any favorable outcome. He would lose this game; he knew it. Young Emilio panicked, began to hyperventilate, got up, and ran out.


    His mother and his coach were upset and disappointed. His mother tried in vain to explain how he needed to lose for years to the man, study him from a distance before he finally could hope to beat the champion, but Emilio saw things differently. He was a fraud and a cheat. The only reason he was school champion was because of his curse. What was the point of playing, he wondered, and he resigned from the chess team the next day and began to pour gas at his father¡¯s station after school.


    As a teenager, Emilio was a distant observer of the world he lived in. Of the many things he could have done with his gift, he did none. His curse was also very problematic when it came to sex. When he saw a person that aroused him, his curse went into overdrive. Before he could even introduce himself, his mind would send him images of him in all types of positions having intercourse with the person. To teen Emilio, it proved too difficult for him to approach someone after having just watched a porn movie featuring that person. Emilio learned to keep that aspect of himself private.


    Then, after adolescence, his brain still had tricks and tortures for him. It keep growing, as if he was watching a movie produced by someone else, his mind took on a life of its own. It began to show images it had selected for him. One day he saw a flash of a naked woman with a large shoulder tattoo. It was an eagle. Minutes later, on a beach he saw a woman remove her sweater and uncovering a tattoo, albeit slightly different. There was no way for him to have known she was there. From timed visions, his brain began to have premonitions, visions that most often proved right. The gift was growing, learning and structuring itself. With time, the accuracy of his predictions increased.


    At twenty, he inherited his father''s garage after a tragic family accident. He loved the job as a mechanic; it was simple and far from large urban centers. He lived peacefully without a television, taking care of his sister until she left for Japan. Drinking also slowed his demanding mind down. When intoxicated, he functioned like most people. But to him, this was cheating.


    Today, president Emilio enjoyed walking around with a tumbler of Scotch at hand. It was the water which could extinguish the fire of his mind. Holding the drink was reassuring. A sip would stop his visions. The glass was his white cane. He did not care if others had no clue why he walked around with the drink, or better yet, thought he was a drunk.


    Young Emilio could not imagine that his way of seeing the world was unique, but after his 2062 and 2068 victories, he was forced to conclude that he was alone capable to guess and see the future. He was a freak of nature, and there was no reason for him to reveal his gift. Playing the Electoral platform was second nature to him. The interface was a perfect fit for his premonitions. After he logged in, he could guess the game before he even began to play it. The Presidential Challenge was different. Everyone knew the scenario. He figured, for once, his gift would prove useless. Yet he''d easily won. Again.


    He did feel, in his heart like the computer intelligence knew of his power and relied on it. Since the start of the year, the white plume of smoke on Mars dangerous terrorism was on the rise. He alone had already spoiled a handful of species-extinguishing events.


    They all had one common tread, each was set up to be materialized on the same day, the finale of the damn game. He questioned many, none knew of the other plots or worse yet, why they had picked November 21 as the date. He was now the silent champion.

 Chapter 51

    Round 26


    Electoral did what she was created to do. From millions of miles away, crackling inside her memory from her home on Mars, the digital intelligence took control of a new world in which humanity immersed itself so regularly. Instantly, she connected the 127 players to the game and allowed well over two billion viewers to watch the show. An invisible network of thoughts perforated, permeated, and enveloped Earth. Excepting President Sanchez on Earth and Sophie''s father located in the Arena, the other players entered her world using Screenlenzs and a control glove from less than a hundred miles away. Each in the lobby of the hotel was standing on a colorful floor mats with little rounded edges. About half the players, based on their preferences, also wore gravity boots. No one cared about the majestic view of another planet in front of them, this game was more important.


    Humanity did not know about the sand creatures on Mars, the Dot stolen from Liam, the Nexus or even the Purple or the President¡¯s efforts to save the world from many strange threats. All they still knew was that Sophie was magical and the Glass Slipper encountered strange turbulence on its pre-inauguration flight. Music played on Mars and the young girl was trying to save her father. Sophie and her father were key to the 2072 game and one player died of a mysterious ailment.


    The distant Sun was rising over the horizon over the dusty planet. From the lobby, the system¡¯s star appeared nearly half the size it was down on Earth. Here, looking directly at the Sun without protection was fine; its intensity was a fraction of what it was in the Saharan desert. The faint green-yellow haze in the atmosphere further weakened the power of the white giant. Phobos, the irregular-shaped moon was brighter than the Sun and dominated at an angle in the sky.


    Because of its status as a planet, most people were surprised to see humans bounce as they moved over the Mars surface. With 38% of Earth''s gravity, players could jump five times as high as back home as they played. With excitement in the game, standing on the play pad immersed in a virtual reality, they could instinctively jump and hit the high ceilings of the hotel. Electoral was ready to unroll a scenario designed to avoid bursts of physical energy, the game would be mostly intellectual; a period piece. High above the hotel and miles above the ground alongside the slow, endless slope of the Mons shone, diamond-like, the Glass Slipper. The transparent glider was at its docking station undergoing rigorous tests. So far, the glider''s integrity seemed sound.


    Once connected to Electoral 2072, it took the remaining contestants what a seemingly endless amount of time to customize their preferred settings and begin their simulations. Amongst other things, they chose the clothing of their character, the accent, even the hair color. Next, they watched a tutorial on ordinary life in Chicago, Illinois, during the era of Prohibition. But this was a breeze when compared with the battle settings of the Presidential Challenge.


    To the ordinary viewer watching the show, there was no pause; the games started in a heartbeat as Electoral sped the process deep in the minds of the last players. Earlier this year, as part of Round 12, millions of players had spent, from their perspective, a full week inside the simulation. They had been castaways lost on a Pacific island. To the rest of the world, the week-long endeavor was nothing more than an hour of sped-up play. Marilyn controlled time in her world; she could slow things down or speed them up as needed.


    No human technology could replicate this lagging effect. Scientists were excited about this slowing-down of the brain instead of accelerating it. If, to a space traveler, what felt subjectively like an hour-long nap could, in reality, span multiple days, moving amongst the stars would become much more feasible. As was typical, however, asking the artificial intelligence for her secrets was a waste of time.


    For the moment, the excitement was not about the story or the science; it was about Laurent¡¯s state of mind and his reunion with the world''s sweetheart. Was Sophie''s father even alive? Earth collectively crossed its fingers. Before that particular drama could play out, though, President Emilio Sanchez would play. Typically Emilio played during the second hour; today he went first.


    Invisible to all but Marilyn, the brain waves of the billions watching the game flowed into her system and meshed into a powerful sea of energy. Like a solar flare filling the void of space, the eruption of energy jolted the solar system awake. Rho waves began to clash and merge, building into a slow, unstoppable crescendo of power. Monroe alone saw and could use these waves to enhance the experience of her viewers. With each passing simulation, she was getting better at controlling Rho waves. Round 26 was, to Marilyn, the unseen shift on an ocean floor that releases the tsunami. To the players and viewers, this would be an unprecedented, exhilarating rush. Brains were awake, alive and vibrating with emotional arousal.


    In the cosmos, the power of Rho waves continued their steady ascendance, sourced by the blue gem called Earth. In space, these waves overlapped with others of many types. Unlike solar waves, which attenuated with distance, Rho waves increased in power as they traveled further from Earth. As if to acknowledge its growing influence, the gem of the solar system twinkled in the cosmos.


    Viewers of Electoral possessed generous viewing options. Most importantly, they needed to pick one of the 126 players to watch in real-time. Electoral, of course, offered the option for any viewer to view any other players after the fact. For a fee, of course. Laurent Lapierre was absent from the list to the impatient irritation of many. The President, while leading in the rankings, was today an ordinary contestant. With a few exceptions, everyone elected to watch Emilio then Laurent.


    True to her nature, Marilyn made an executive decision to prolong the suspense and extend the broadcast to a two-hour live event with the help of CNN''s enthusiastic anchors. Emilio would play Round 26, then, an hour later, she would air Laurent''s performance. Laurent would play at the same time as everyone else, but the broadcast of his game, if it even took place, would be delayed.


    Only one person today would see Laurent''s live performance, his young legal guardian. She hinted at her desire to see her father immediately; there was no pushback. Marilyn replied, "Of course you can see him, I''d have it no other way. I hope he''s fine. You must be worried. Is it okay if you watch and don''t jump in with him during the game? Another presence requires me to put more strain on his mind. Keeping the amount of energy I supply him with is the least dangerous course." Sophie agreed. After all, he had now been in this state for days while she grabbed Liam from his strange world.


    ***


    Round 26 began softly. All screens shifted to a soft, creamy white. It had been well over a century since any significant broadcast used the romantic feel of black and white. Electoral''s Round 26 would be colorless except for some touches of color to enhance Electoral''s beauty. Powerful filters gave the broadcast a feel of walking back into the 19th Century. This was no gritty recreation of the past. She set forth a romantic view of the difficult era. The white tones were gracious to Marilyn Monroe, born in that long past era.


    Credits typed by an old typewriter appeared. Classical piano music played softly in the background. Sebastian Bach''s early works brought a touch of romanticism. After the roll out of the opening credits, Electoral printed a touching acknowledgment to Sophie Lapierre for her help. Watching from the Center, the young girl smiled. She liked Marilyn; the blond was clumsy but had a good heart.


    The game began.


    This was a black and white sunny day.


    A bird chipped on the edge of a large wooden sign. It welcomed visitors to a retirement home. A winding gravel road allowed carriages and two cylinder-engine cars travel to the luxurious building under a row of arching trees. Curiously, the image was part of a peaceful European forest, not the United States. The sign read: "Mountain Ridge Residences, Chicago."If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    President Emilio, facing problem after problem down on Earth was the only player who knew this place; he had recently seen it. This building had been blown up in Vienna about a week ago by a rich old fart part of a sect. "This is not a coincidence," he told himself. Marilyn knew better than to use European landscape and foreign architecture for a Chicago setting. She was never off-script. Every detail counted to the creature. Emilio knew deep down there was a purpose to this choice, and since the game prohibited any contact between a player and the system, his instincts told him it was probably a message directed at him.


    Takeda, a dying virologist father of a really vicious bug had walked out unscathed from an explosion here, in this building two weeks ago. The centenarian''s appearance had been changed before he vanished. Emilio knew the man was up to no good, probably working on yet another plot to destroy the planet. Using this residence sent Emilio a clear message, you will know who is now Takeda.


    Like all players, Emilio watched the introduction unfold before his eyes. Everyone else would see a clip lasting about thirty seconds and characters talk to each other; though Emilio''s gift allowed him to glean much more information. A carriage rolled softly to the front door of the Residence. The driver was careful not to disturb a precious passenger. The horses stopped in the entry of the main building. A man walked out from the Residence wearing a suit. A welcoming committee of sorts. The driver walked around and opened the door to help an aging woman get out of the carriage. She smiled. "Welcome Madam Emmanuel," offered the manager. He kissed her hand. The woman blushed. "We are honored to have you here; your son is a kind man."


    The old lady grabbed the hand and carefully placed her shoe on the ledge. "He certainly is," she answered as a nurse brought over a platter with two flutes of Champagne.


    "I hope he wins the election."


    "Everyone does. So do I." This was it for all, except one.


    Emilio''s singular mind exploded as hundreds of alternative scenarios, that was his secret unique gift. He quickly ran and dismissed the images in which the manager helped the lady visit the grounds. He was able, in his mind, to project himself in simulations in which he played the manager of the residence who, instead of walking out to welcome the new guest at the carriage, walked past the front door and visited, in turn, each of the rooms of the building. In his mind, as the manager, Emilio opened each door. Emilio''s gift allowed him to siphon, categorize and extrapolate a great deal of information from very little input. This was his story to tell, it could wait.


    In each simulation, he only had seconds. His mind''s eye opened the doors looking each time for the virologist. He ran up the stairs, then in more simulations he walked down to the basement of the structure. Finally, he opened the last door to Room 20C. Behind it sat Takeda, the old man he lost in Vienna. He was in a frail body barely capable of holding himself in a sitting position. The man was very old but was awake; his eyes where those of a young man. The virologist looked at Emilio with his piercing eyes.


    His vision ended.


    Emilio was back watching the old lady grab the flute of champagne. The President''s heart raced. For the first time in this game, there was drama and excitement. He wondered if Marilyn would decide to broadcast his dreams to the world. He had no way to know what she would use but he knew Takeda was here.


    ***


    As suddenly as the prelude ended, the visions were gone.


    Everyone was back watching a busy Chicago street. Here, a handful of old cars made their way along a cobblestone downtown road. The rocks on the ground were flat. These images were from the Al Capone era and every detail was perfect. In the streets, boys were selling the morning edition of the Chicago Sun Times. It was a sunny spring day; the straw in the street above the stones was damp. As usual, Marilyn''s attention to detail was breathtaking.


    A large white car turned a street corner and made its way down the street. The license plate read simply "SEXY." Its windows were tainted, but there was no doubting that Marilyn Monroe was sitting inside. Each round began with her arrival. She gave proof that narcissism was not confined to the Homo Sapiens. Letters flashed in the sky on each screen.


    Round 26 - President Emilio Sanchez


    First Position - 2434 Points


    The game was addiction, this was why.


    Music softened to the background as President Sanchez¡¯s narration began. He hada heavy Chicago accent. "Don''t know why the hell I woke up this morning. Should have gone with my gut and stayed in bed. Been months since my last client walked in, and with the recession and all, I need the work. Done being picky." The white car drove up and parked in front of a five-story brick building. "Yep, that''s my dump."


    The chauffeur ran out, circled the car and opened the passenger door. The detail was spectacular; viewers saw the hand of the driver reach in to help the passenger out of the vehicle. A long, covered leg unfolded. The woman gently put a high-heeled shoe on the crooked rocky curb. The camera panned out to show Marilyn Monroe come out of the vehicle. The digital creature was stunning and used every tool in her arsenal to enhance the experience. The gentle morning light and filtering techniques gave her a natural luminescence. She was wearing a hat, a sleeveless white cocktail dress with a side slit to the upper thigh. Her naked shoulders were warmed by a long ermine boa. The black tips of the tails were in perfect alignment around her neck.


    Marilyn was playing a wealthy and prominent woman. She flicked her wrist, and the chauffeur gave her a long cigarette holder cocked with a white tube. He lit her up. Back on Earth, Marilyn was bound by the rules of broadcasting and smoking on television was prohibited; on Mars it was not. Wearing real fur also was forbidden. She''d obviously thrown the rule book out the window. Emilio could feel her contempt for man''s rules from millions of miles away.


    The President''s narration resumed as Marilyn made her way inside the building. "I hate rich broads -- specifically the type married to poor old schmucks. I''m a private eye, not a marriage counselor. These broads always want me to spy on their husbands; nothing is simpler. By the look of this one, you would figure she was married to Capone himself. My gut was nagging me; I knew helping her was the best way to finish the night in Lake Michigan with a new pair of cement shoes. Then again, who was I to turn down a five dollar job?"


    The Marilyn character walked to the door of the building. The chauffeur opened the freight elevator. Both entered the cage and slowly made their way to the top floor. Emilio''s narration continued, "When the door to my office opened, it was obvious to me. This was triple, no, quadruple the normal rate. No one else in this town was desperate enough to take this job. I was going to see a twenty today." As he finished the sentence, the door of the office opened. The bodyguard let her enter first after a quick glance inside.


    There wasn''t much in the largely empty room. In the back was a thick desk with a sawed-off shotgun mounted underneath, two chairs and a small sign which read "E.W. Sanchez - Private Eye."


    Without a word, cigarette holder in her mouth, she slowly removed both of her long white gloves one finger at a time. Once done, she handed them to her bodyguard and gestured for him to leave. As the door closed, she moved closer, took a good look at the player and sat on the corner of Emilio''s heavy desk. She crossed her legs in the most provocative way she could.


    "Detective."


    "Yep?" answered Emilio.


    "I need your help."


    "It''s three dollars per hour plus expenses, twenty each day," said the detective. Emilio''s internal narrative continued, "This chick doesn''t care about money," said the off voice to the billions of viewers. Emilio''s character continued but this time with his speaking voice, "What''s a hot chick like you doing in a sleazy place like this?"


    "I need discretion."


    Emilio almost choked. The word "discretion" was not part of Marilyn''s vocabulary in any reality. He put both of his feet on his desk, dangerously close to where Marilyn was sitting. "Discretion''s my middle name, little lady."


    "I am the wife of Andrew Emmanuel, the banker. I think someone is blackmailing him out of his bid for Mayor of Chicago."


    "Listen, lady, everyone in this town is either blackmailed or corrupt. We have a special word for it; we call it breathing." Electoral put a laugh track on the pun.


    "This case is special," she reached into her bra and pulled out a small business card. As she handed it over, a gunshot echoed from across the street. It broke the glass and hit Marilyn in the heart. She fell very elegantly to the ground, lifeless. Her death was part of the scenario and well orchestrated. There was no pain or even noise. Emilio got up just in time to grab the business card from her hand as she dropped. Her death was part of the story; there was no point in fighting it.


    "This is why you always get a retainer," said the Private Eye as Marilyn''s bodyguard rushed to the room. "Goddammit, I needed this one," said Emilio in the off voice. He looked at the business card; it read: "Michel Leduc, General Manager -- The Mountain Ridge Residence." He knew that man; it was Leduc''s point of view he had just borrowed to walk around the building and find Takeda. He was sure of it.


    Emilio''s character smiled, but his inner self, playing the game from his office in Berlin, was now nervous. The scenario of Round 26 was simple, deceptively so. But there was more. His detective character needed to go to the retirement home to solve the murder. He needed to visit the Residence to get the message Marilyn had set up for him. Room 20C was intriguing for a different reason. It then came to Emilio that the Chairman of the Visconti was undoubtedly watching the game along with everyone on Earth. To Nick, this would ring alarm bells. Marilyn was shining a light on the ghost''s secret plan.


    He was puzzled.


    There was a long commercial pause.

 Chapter 52

    The game''s black and white broadcast resumed with a soft transition away from the noisy advertisement. The piano music was somewhat faster, Chopin now played. A bright cab was driving up the long winding road past the sign of the Residence. In the back of the car, Emilio was making sure his gun was loaded.


    The narration returned. "I''m still not real clear why I followed that lead. This cab ride alone is going to cost me a fortune. It''s bad business to represent dead clients, but that broad deserved for me to find the truth. Note to self: "buy a car".¡± Emilio arrived at the front door of the large building. He stepped out of the yellow cab and paid. "Don''t wait," he said. The driver had no intention of doing so.


    Emilio expected someone to walk out of the Residence and greet him. He lit up a cigarette and took a pull. No one walked out. He continued the narration, "This place smells like dead money. That broad''s husband must have serious tunes to afford this for his mom. He''ll pay for my broken window. As a PI, it''s bad business to let clients walk out on a stretcher. I don''t need my name in the headlines tomorrow. I have to get to the bottom of this now." He took another puff and looked around.


    In this scenario, it was now late in the afternoon. A beautiful fall day.


    Many residents were wandering these grounds in little groups. The retirees were often flanked by younger family members or part of the nursing staff. It was evident the Residence was comfortable to these rare guests. As he looked at their faces, Emilio''s strange mind took over. In a micro-second, hundreds of alternative futures crashed into him. He saw himself walk over and talk to each of these residents. Each time, the scenario was different, but deep inside he felt he was off the preferred path. Other players had to decide what path to take. They had to investigate by hand with what Emilio could do in seconds. Emilio did not. Relying on his gift, he was able to quickly discard the cul-de-sacs from the genuine lead of each story.


    His gift allowed him to feel which path was the right to take. The election system called Electoral played like a live role playing game or a video game. A person did what he or she wanted. Using the interface, a player simply had to stay on a predetermined path the longest. The computer awarded points when certain heroic actions occurred. His gift could not put words in the mouth of the digital images of characters populated by the system, but each time he got impressions.


    Armed with this unique gift, Emilio frankly could not see how Laurent or anyone else could beat him. But the crippled father of the girl called Sophie was scoring big each round; that was undeniable. For the moment, he needed to find Takeda.


    This latest story, Emilio told himself, appeared rather simple. An old woman, the one in the introduction, was the mother of the banker husband of his dead client. Villains of some type had leverage on the banker and mayoral candidate and had forced him out of his political run. This was a deadlocked situation. Would players have the interest of the voters in mind and help this old lady escape or would they have the interest of this old woman at heart?


    Unlike what everyone liked to say, Emilio found the Electoral game straightforward and predictable. Her stories were always clich¨¦s. Marilyn Monroe had many formidable facets but authoring wasn''t one. Today would be no exception. Layered upon this story was some human value used to help scoring. Sometimes it paid to be kind, other times, being strong was advisable. Even cruelty had its place. Those moods were easy to guess based on the overall feel of the game. To Emilio, at least.


    The game, as Marilyn described it herself, was designed to elect a good human, not the best player. Emilio was no saint, but compared to elected officials, he was much better. A week ago, at the conclusion of the Presidential Challenge, she told the players empathy would be the twist of today''s game. At least that was clear. Players would have to empathize with either old lady, the son, the client or the population. By judging the fragility of these residents, the scenario lent sympathy toward the senior residents. It was clear that a cloak and dagger escape with the old lady wasn''t a good idea.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Today''s game would be different. Emilio needed to visit Takeda in room 20C in a way which connected with this story. The detour would not be part of the main storyline. At this point, he no longer cared about the rankings. Something was nagging him, though. Emilio was certain that Electoral wanted him to speak directly to Takeda; either privately or for public broadcast. Then the President wondered if the computer has not inserted one "real" human in every game simulation. Emilio was a hundred points ahead; he no longer cared about his performance.


    In a heartbeat, visions flashed, and he knew the old lady from the preface was alone, sitting on a bench by the pond. He knew she was the story''s main character and the starting point before he could speak with Takeda. Emilio saw in his mind multiple storylines. In most a nurse would walk out from the front door of the main building holding a food platter. In some of the scenarios, he lifted the cover on the platter and saw what was under it.


    Emilio decided on the best course of action and resuming the story. The nurse passed inches from the private eye, Emilio lifted the metal cover and stole a piece of bread. The nurse smiled.


    "You want more?" she asked.


    Emilio waved to the negative and blew a kiss her way on his way to the pond. Ducks were swimming in front of the old lady. Emilio walked over and began to chip away pieces of bread throwing them into the water.


    "Nice day," he said to the lady.


    "No feeding the ducks, against the rules."


    "Sorry." He stopped and sat on the bench next to her.


    "I guess you couldn''t have known," softened the old lady.


    "I don''t get out of my office much. Banks are stuffy that way." Emilio was was at work now. Politics were a joke to him. He knew how to draw out the right information and sympathy. It was instinct, purely and simply. He was a good man, but still a predator.


    "My son is also a banker," she volunteered on cue.


    "Bankers love their mothers," he added. She smiled. "You like this place? I am thinking about it for my mother; she hates my son''s dog."


    "It''s truly a beautiful place. They''re so sweet here. We play bridge each day. Mister Leduc is like an adopted son to me; he runs this place. His mother is on the second floor. Her room is beautiful."


    Emilio smiled. The lady loved her new home. The story was simple, the banker''s mother was a prisoner in a perfect place. If he cared for the old lady, there as no reason to rain on her retirement choices. If the interest of the son and his client prevailed, he had to disclose the reality of this prison. Since the manager''s mother was here, maybe the man himself was being blackmailed. Leduc himself was being forced into this complicated situation. Each scenario had a perfect solution. Here there was a way for the woman''s world to remain intact and for the blackmail of the banker to end. That was the only solution worth the full 100 points. Emilio gave an internal finger to "the rules" as he gave the ducks more bread and reflected.


    "This place must be expensive?"


    "I don''t know. My son takes care of it. You can ask Mister Leduc the price," she corrected herself, "Michel." The woman obviously liked the man. Emilio''s gift took over. He saw himself get up and approach about twenty other senior residents. They were all women. They each liked the man called Michel; he was a womanizer. Emilio knew nothing along those lines could be part of the story ahead of him. Electoral never placed the human race in a dark light or hinted at improprieties. He felt every resident in this place loved the manager.


    "Do you want me to introduce you to Michel?" she volunteered.


    "You''re too kind. That would be great. If you don''t mind, I want to see the building first, you know. I love to walk around, maybe see if that kitchen is as clean as I can imagine. My mom needs the best, but she hates light, are there rooms in the basement?" Emilio knew he needed an excuse if he was caught snooping around down there.


    "I don''t know. I don''t think so."


    He grabbed her hand, kissed it and concluded. "Off to the darkest and dirtiest corner. Please don''t tell."


    To Emilio, the game was simple. Every other player was wandering the extensive grounds in search of any kernel of truth. He alone had time given by the visions. He walked back to the building and entered it as if he was home. He could not send his mind to Room 20C, to open the door and see what would happen. That was not how his mind worked. The visions had to come to him; he could not command them.


    From his desk in Berlin, he pushed a button on his glove interface with his index finger, and this commanded his game body to enter the building and turn right down the stairs.


    He wasn¡¯t allowed to talk, instead he just saw an old body, a dying body with nothing more than hope as escape. The old Takeda, an Asian leading virologist was asleep. On the table by the bedside a picture of a much younger man, a young Latino man with completely different features. Marilyn, to make sure Emilio got the message, had the young man wear a small identity badge, it read ¡°Takeda.¡±


    The old man woke up and gently whispered two words to the President. Machines began to beeped he passed.

 Chapter 53

    Round 26 resumed. Unknown to Emilio, Electoral never put on air the contact between Emilio and the resident of Room 20C. It was part of a boring story happening on Earth, distracting from the truth. Instead, Marilyn edited Emilio''s character search the kitchen for traces of bacteria. Electoral resumed as Emilio walked around, quickly finding Mister Leduc, the manager of these premises, pretending to want information on behalf of his mother''s stay. Emilio and Leduc made their way to the head psychiatrist''s office. The man''s desk overflowed with paperwork. The characters created by Electoral were always realistic; they had quirks and flaws.


    He''d wasted time with his estranged conversation with Takeda, but it had been entirely necessary. Time was always short in the game; players couldn''t wander off the story path for long. He needed to catch up the other players who had likely already completed their game. Once in the manager''s office, he sat in a chair and looked around at all of the paperwork and knickknacks stacked on the shelves in the room. A flood of visions returned.


    His sixth sense gave him an impression of the reaction each time he looked at something in the room. In a vision, he grabbed an old radio, and the manager sat up stiff in his chair. Electoral loved logical stories; something was wrong with the device. In his vision, he smashed the radio on the ground; a large 20th-century microphone fell out. It was attached to a cable running out of the wall. The man was under surveillance. Some of the senior guests were essentially prisoners here, but the Psychiatrist, Leduc, wasn''t the one responsible, that much was clear to Emilio. In a heartbeat, the vision vanished. Emilio was back in the office, he as sitting and the radio was whole.


    "One moment," said the President playing the Private Investigator lighting a cigarette. He got up and turned on the radio for music to hide his words. The President returned to the desk, grabbed a pen and paper and scribbled, "Can they hear us?"


    "I no longer think so," replied Mr. Leduc, softly.


    "What leverage do they have on you?" There was no need to explain who was the group he was referencing.


    "My mother. She is here, in danger like all the others."


    "Why not call the cops?"


    "Chicago cops?" Emilio realized the stupidity of his question the moment it came out. Emilio was a politician. Clearly, the older residents loved this place. They enjoyed their last years in a beautiful environment. The President needed to find the solution to this puzzle. Someone had killed his client to keep him from investigating this place. Why would a man blackmail the banker, his dead client''s husband?


    Emilio looked around; he needed inspiration. Victory required finding a solution where the mother of the banker, the mayoral candidate who''d been his deceased client''s husband, decided of her own free will to leave these grounds. He had to get her on the next cab out of this place at her own request. Poisoning the food would never work. Burning the building down was an option, but it was sloppy and out of theme. Then it came to him. The guests were in love with Leduc; that was the solution.


    "Michel, is it?"


    "Yes."


    "You don''t know me, but I''m a private eye. Here''s the deal: I need a favor from you. Five minutes of your time and those guys won''t ever know what happened." He pointed at the microphone. "I just leave with your latest resident peacefully, Ms Emmanuel. If I leave alone, my next stop will be the press. You don¡¯t want that."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ***


    Marilyn edited to perfection. Moments later, Emilio was outside and had called a cab rolling in. It parked outside the front door. The private eye got in and asked the driver to wait. The President''s inner narration resumed, "Sure, I could care enough to go after the scum causing hurt in this place, but that won''t pay my rent. The problem with flirting is that it''s so easy to cross the line. Let''s see if I''m right."


    The camera turned. He watched as a nurse walked past the cab with Miss Emmanuel, his objective. She''d been summoned by Mister Leduc. From the cab, he looked up at the second-floor window. Staged for him, he saw Leduc try to kiss the old woman. The old newest resident slapped the psychiatrist''s face. Three minutes later, he saw the lady walk out and get into his cab. She radiated anger.


    "Do you mind?" she said as she slid next to him on the back seat.


    "What happened?" asked the President. He knew what had happened; he''d just engineered it, though this particular act had been made possible by the prescient precision of his gift. He''d instructed Michel to make a sexual advance on Miss Emmanuel. In this era, the reaction would be severe. As expected, she''d slapped Mr. Leduc, turned, and left. Flirting was okay, but anything more was out of the question.


    "I must get back to my son."


    The game ended as the cab rolled away from the large house. The blackmail was over, he would get paid as he explained the situation.


    The credits rolled.


    ***


    Emilio knew his performance wouldn''t earn him the top score and he didn''t care. To grab one hundred points, he had to help the manager and jail his captors. There were higher concerns than points today, however. As he logged off, he received a score of 84 points, his all-time lowest. The President was genuinely curious to see Laurent''s condition. Emilio logged off. He sat up on his futon to drink a glass of water handed over by his assistant. The man was ready with a towel to wipe away the sweat his boss''s brow. Emilio was surprised by his level of exhaustion; by his usual standards, he''d barely played and had expended no energy. He had a sneaking suspicion that his perspiration had less to do with the game and more to do with the consequences of the events that swirled around it and those damn waves.


    "How long was I under?"


    "The preparation lasted twenty minutes, but your game lasted a mere three." Emilio wiped more sweat from his brow and smiled. For the first time this year, a simulation left him deep in thought. The President grabbed a second glass from the silver platter and took a deep smell of the Scotch. The ice cubes dance in the liquid as if to evaporate more alcohol for his next whiff. Emilio smiled at Kai before using the remote control to watch the game system; he was genuinely curious.


    Thanks to last week''s broadcast, he now knew why the interface was an unmatched mental rush and why time seemed to compress itself from the player''s perspective. Electoral''s little classroom demonstration after she''d evacuated Sophie and company from the Holiday Inn Mars had been most informative. The damn machine played violin with a person''s brain waves. Emilio knew the interface was highly addictive; that was why Marilyn made sure play time was restricted to the rounds.


    No amount of money could buy a person a single minute of the game on her system. Electoral only played at wanting to turn a financial profit in the most transparent manner. He now knew that the software really wanted large numbers people to connect simultaneously. There was a power there she very badly wanted to tap.


    He pushed a button on his desk and a voice answered, ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°Stop looking for an old Takeda, he now has a young, regenerated body. Don¡¯t look for Asian features, more Latino. Very effeminate looking, probably down to the DNA. Probably new technology. Find him but do not let him know you found him. He is working on something that will require my personal attention.¡± He searched his mind and remembered the background, ¡°He is somewhere in France.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir.¡±


    Like everyone else around the world, Emilio needed to see for himself if Laurent was still alive and if he was even able to play. There was a dense cloud of mystery surrounding his runner-up. The President liked Sophie''s father and hoped to play against him in the finale. He had nothing to do with Laurent''s quasi-disqualification. In fact, losing to Sophie and her father was something he honestly would not regret. After two full terms at the helm of the International Organization, he''d had enough.

 Chapter 54

    "What a bore!" said the black and white Marilyn Monroe. She was back on the air standing in the office of the private eye. On her dress, above her heart, was a small black dot that marked where the bullet had struck her. She walked around the desk and sat in the detective''s chair. She frowned at the spot and brushed it away with an accompanying puff of digital smoke. "Emilio, darling, is this the best you could do?" She blew a kiss and winked.¡°A disappointing 84.¡±


    "Joking aside, for reasons as of yet forthcoming, this scenario was designed to be rather simple and did not have a perfect solution. Safeguarding everyone''s best interests in this situation, just as in the real world, is simply not possible. Here, our President hurt a gentle old lady. Sometimes in life, we are left to choose between two bad situations. Points go to decisiveness and empathy, as promised."


    She shook her head, letting her hair fall back into place as if she was about to reset the scenario. She slipped on her gloves. "This was the first round played on Mars. I wanted to make sure Laurent''s use of my new interface could not improve his odds against the other players stuck in the hotel next door, or Earth. This round tested choice-making and not physical skill. Aside from our beloved President, all the other players located in the Holiday Inn have to manage this low gravity. It follows that if any player felt the need to jump during the game, the low gravity might have caused problems. No one is really tied down." She added a breathy sigh and the hint of a naughty smile to her last comment.


    She bit the tip of the cigarette holder and finished adjusting her gloves back. She pulled in a mouthful of smoke and blew heart-shaped rings in the air. Another subtle reminder that this was her world, and in it, she was a goddess.


    "Now onto the real story of the day. If you remember, one of our remaining players passed away unexpectedly from a strange neurological condition on the trip from Earth. Moments later, Sophie''s father seemed to fall victim to the same affliction. To help save him, I cut ties with Laurent to lower the energy level in his cerebral cortex. The great news is that Laurent didn''t die. We don''t know much more. Sophie used one of my special toys and tried to enter his mind in a rescue mission of sorts. Less than an hour ago, she returned. As Laurent''s legal guardian, she let me reconnect her father to the game. I see that everyone down on Earth, including the President himself, is anxious to discover Laurent''s current condition. Is he still whole? Can he still play? Enjoy."


    Round 26 - Laurent Lapierre


    Second Position - 2267 Points


    Laurent''s game started the same way as all of the other players'' had, with one critical exception, the simulation had no internal character narration. His voice, tinted by that distinctive 1920''s Chicago accent was missing. The world was expecting Laurent''s deep voice. Instead, there was silence. It quickly became apparent something was very wrong. Laurent was an expert player who would never forfeit points by not complying with the rules. Players were required to narrate the introduction when the game called for it. Each could tailor the text, but it had to be there. Emilio, from his Berlin office, watched nervously. He hoped, he needed, Laurent to be healthy.


    One by one, the introductory scenes played. These were the identical opening scenes as those at the start of Emilio''s simulation. Marilyn''s car turned a corner, and viewers read the license plate as it drove to the front of the detective''s office. The paperboy waved the same edition of the day''s news.


    It was unlike the computer intelligence to tolerate such a long silence and not fill it with... something. Music, at the least. Viewers could hear horses clop their way down the pavement. The bustling noise of the city had taken on a silently deafening quality in the absence of Laurent''s of commentary. The limousine parked in front of the building. The chauffeur ran out to open the passenger door and let Marilyn Monroe out one silky leg at a time. She was wearing the sleeveless white cocktail dress and the boa around her neck. Stunning, as ever.


    On the uneven curb, Marilyn lit up her cigarette. The silence stressed Laurent''s daughter as she watched the game inches from her father''s real body. Marilyn walked to the door of the brick building and went up the freight elevator. The silence began to transform from an uncomfortable sensation into a true and imminent threat, like a shadow coalescing into a solid shape. The bodyguard knocked on the Private Eye''s office. No one answered. Then a voice sounded out.


    "Yes?" said a young boy''s from behind the door.


    The bodyguard opened the door. There was no boy in sight. No one, with the exception of Marilyn and her creator Georges, could understand what came next. To the ordinary viewer, the office was identical to those in all the other players'', with one odd exception. Laurent was there in his chair, behind the desk, dressed as the detective. His right hand was extended in the air, though, as if he was holding the invisible hand of a ghost.


    "Who''s your friend?" asked Marilyn walking in as if she owned the room to the private eye.


    "You can see him?" At Laurent''s first words, one could almost hear the Earth sigh in relief. Marilyn certainly noticed the Rho wave surge.


    "Not really," the bodyguard closed the door behind her. "I can see the shadows this kid is leaving on the floor, but not the kid himself. Who is he and what the Hell is this?" So much for the storyline.


    The detective smiled at Marilyn, removed his feet from the desk and turned to look at an invisible figure he could obviously see. "It didn''t work; I told you it wouldn''t." Laurent grinned casually. "You can show yourself," said the black and white version of Sophie¡¯s father dressed as the Private Investigator.


    The figure appeared without so much as a ripple. It was a beautiful angel; he rivaled Monroe for sheer perfection. A child of perhaps six or seven years. The boy was holding Laurent''s hand as though it were a lifeline. What jarred the eye, though, was that the boy was in color, creating a contrast superimposed over a monochromatic world. His light blue eyes pierced the screen, framed in a wave of long blond locks. His attire was a simple long yellow toga tied at the waist by a golden ribbon. There was simply nothing ordinary about the creature, nor this situation. For the first time, perhaps since Electoral''s inception, minds across Earth began to wonder whether who was really in control here.


    This apparition was foreign to the Electoral game. Its mere existence in the game violated every rule of play; every player''s simulation had to be identical. Nothing in the story could favor one player over another.


    The expression on the boy''s face was one of naivety. As required by the scenario, Laurent''s other hand was now holding a thick cigar. Without opening either hand, the detective gestured Marilyn in with a twist of the neck. They were in uncharted territory, the game always centered around the player, never Marilyn. This time, the computer occupied the stage, playing her own game.


    For the first time since achieving sentience, speechlessness briefly engulfed Marilyn. She was looking at the boy in complete disbelief. Trillions of hexa-joules of energy flowed through her digital world. This was her world, she normally controlled every part of it. Nothing else could exist here without her consent, but the boy was there. For a full second, she remained in the door frame unable to decide what to do. On cue, the ashes of her cigarette dropped to the floor in slow motion. The diversion gave her time to recover her wits.


    "Come in, Marilyn. A surprise is healthy once in a while, even for you,¡± smiled Laurent enjoying the discussion. From all outward appearances, Laurent''s health was pristine. "Meet my friend; his name is Malik, an alien." The boy looked at Marilyn and waved his free hand. Laurent had committed another faux-pas. He''d referred to the character played by Marilyn by her real name instead. She was Miss Emmanuel, the wife of a banker.


    The young boy was not afraid of his surroundings. He wasn''t shy or overwhelmed; he was taking pleasure in being in the game. Malik''s teeth had a slight imperfection that set off the rest of his beauty, much as Monroe''s mole did.


    Marilyn took a step back away from the intruder but then stiffened herself and forced herself back to the character. Billions were watching. Then the computer did what she was born to do. Time slowed down for her. The game paused in her perception as millions of images began to stack themselves in her memory. She scanned and rescanned every inch of her world and then she saw it. On an image of the boy waving his hand, the waving hand had five fingers. The other, holding Laurent''s, was different. There were six fingers on that one. Every other feature of the boy was normal. The computer began to stack theories; employing every internal resource except the Rho waves. Internal processes hard at work, she returned to the game.


    Time resumed for her.


    Most humans wouldn''t have noticed the tiny glitch in time, but Emilio did. He loved this. Thanks to the delay, Marilyn could have edited the encounter, but she had not. Whatever hit the airwaves now was raw, unedited fact. More intriguing, Marilyn was letting it happen. Deep within the artificial intelligence was a respect of the famous show business motto of "The Show Must Go On." The encounter was sensational television. The wife of the banker, stepping back into her role, found the courage to move closer to the foreign entity. To Marilyn, in the heat of broadcast, Malik represented life and was to most humans: a parasite infecting her world.


    From his office in Berlin watching the show, President Emilio clapped his hands in excitement. Aside from being great television, Marilyn had just had her chain jerked roughly for the first time in her life by a kid. The notion that there were things beyond her understanding, more powerful creatures, would rattle that digital core of hers.


    "Young man, I have private matters to discuss," Marilyn was back in character, "I came to hire this man. Go with my bodyguard; you can play with his gun if you want, just don''t hurt him." The artificial intelligence concluded, nastily, "You can hurt yourself if you want." Marilyn¡¯s temper was no surprise to anyone watching.


    Before Laurent could answer, the boy spoke, "My name is Malik. Laurent is my father. I want to see my sister Sophie." On the bed, from her bedroom, Sophie spilled a mouthful of soda. She was smiling from ear to ear, god this was awesome.


    The demand was awkward. Sophie stood up in the Arena back in the real world watching the screen. The boy had just called her sister. On Earth, Emilio also stood up in sheer excitement. This was insanity. This boy, something obviously not part of Monroe''s carefully crafted simulation, had made a demand. Now came the important part: did it have the power to force Marilyn to cooperate?If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Laurent smiled and interrupted the boy. "Malik, Marilyn wants us to play her game, as I explained. She is a computer, a life form, but different than you or I. Her priorities and ours... differ. This," he said as he put the cigar in the ashtray, "is important to her." He waived his hand. "You''ll see Sophie later, after the game," he said kindly. Laurent continued, "Daddy has a fun game to win. After the game, we can talk all we want with the lady. You promised to watch and stay silent. There are rules; I can''t get disqualified. Your sister did not fly all the way to Mars only for you to get us disqualified. She''d be upset."


    Emilio and Sophie were unable to hide their respect for the cripple. Laurent had arrived and the stage was his.


    Sophie, standing feet from her father''s body, could not believe what she was watching. Her father was fine and had adopted this strange digital boy. She recognized the creature''s voice and his name. The boy was the rock creature who had ventured into her dreams as a firefly. The boy who''d returned to the Purple, while she followed, when she was on the plane to Mars. The alien was now in her father''s head. He must have tried to reenter this dimension, and instead of coming to her, he''d slid into Laurent''s mind. She liked this creature; it looked like it was kind.


    Malik had just called her sister. Ordinarily, she would have been concerned by the situation, but she trusted her father. If he felt the need to adopt the boy, that was good enough for her. Then it came to Sophie: her father was no longer alone in his world. He had a friend and an ally. Someone with which to spend quality time, someone to help fill all the empty hours that haunted him. The thought warmed her heart. She was not a possessive or jealous child. Some of the senseless encounters of these past days started to make some sense.


    For a full nanosecond, Electoral contemplated shutting down the game. She could cut energy from analysis to purging this intruder in her world. Deep within herself, Marilyn calculated improbable millions of outcomes and strange possibilities. The end result was disturbing: she was unsure if she held the power to sterilize herself and remove this thing.


    The boy''s name resurfaced in her memory. On the Nexus, moments before she had stolen the central anchor point called the Dot, the Metil ambassador had spoken of the creature named Malik. The boy was the creature who had brought back a human. Marilyn had to confirm if this was indeed the same creature.


    She spoke, "Are you from the world called the Purple?"


    Laurent and Sophie''s jaws figuratively dropped. The computer knew of the other worlds and obviously of the boy. "Yes, I am from the Purple. I am not going back," he said with determination. "You can''t make me!" His tone would have been enough to convince anyone, but Marilyn''s monitoring of the wide variety of energy pouring out of him confirmed that he more than meant it. The child calmed himself and spoke again. "You know of it. Have you been there?" Laurent''s hand tightened in the digital world over the boy''s.


    The woman sat on the desk. "I do not want to force you to do anything. I find amusing how humans and now aliens alike assume I will direct conduct. Since my birth, I have never ordered anyone to do anything. I run a game; noting more. To answer your second question, young boy, I have never been there. But in theory, I have never been anywhere since I have no physical body." The logic inherent to the software intelligence kept resurfacing. "Young man, while we do need to talk, billions await as we must let Laurent run this game. This game is important in many important ways. The most important is that it explains why you are here."


    "What do you know of Malik?" asked Laurent.


    "In an effort to avoid platitudes or deflections, let me be clear. He could be, well he is, the cause of the first war between the worlds in our multiverse, nothing less I fear. As nice looking as he may appear at the moment, he is the original cancer cell ready to destroy a very large body. As you must imagine, this should wait. I want Sophie to participate to the discussion. Timing here is key."


    Marilyn looked directly at the camera, now speaking directly to viewers. "The boy''s world, the place he calls the Purple World will be the setting of next week''s game. Most of your questions will be answered during Round 27 when 64 players will enter this strange adjacent world to guide Sophie as she tries to save the Earth." Some statements were simply too charged in meaning to transmit the message they contained. She continued, "I just made available online a series of questions FAQ''s about the Purple; this microscopic quantum world."


    Marilyn turned her attention back to the odd couple standing before her. "I can only imagine what your daughter Sophie will have to say about all of this."


    "I know," joked Laurent. He knew his daughter all too well.


    "Shall we resume the game?" she asked the pair. "Only Laurent can play or talk. In theory you should not be here, but let''s keep our little different for another time." Marilyn sitting son the corner of the desk and as she had in all other simulations removed the long white gloves. She looked around, color was slowly returning to the game. "Malik, darling, can you stop adding this color?"


    "I like color."


    "We all do, but this black and white is only temporary. It helps create a mood, a tone in this short game. It helps take us back to a time when human communications were not yet in color." This was a premiere. Marilyn had lost power over her own world. She kissed the cheek of the boy, he smiled and color faded to white.


    "Thank you," she whispered in his ear, "we talk later."


    She then tried to resume the game as if the encounter with Malik had never took place. The scripted scenario returned. She talked about her husband''s run for mayor, she relit a cigarette and on cue, as she handed the business card with the name of the retirement home to Laurent. There was a shot, the window glass broke and a bullet came flying into the room. This time, the projectile stopped in mid-air, inches from Marilyn''s chest.


    Malik''s hand was raised. He had stopped it. With his fingers, he plucked the bullet out of midair. It was still hot. "Why this? It will hurt her. Why do you want your world to hurt you?"


    "How sweet," said Marilyn. She obviously was trying to manage this strange situation. "Malik, it is just a game, a story. I cannot die here." Knowing Emilio was watching from Earth, she took the time to add, "But players can die in my world."


    The boy dropped the bullet on the ground. Marilyn winked at him, pretended to be hit in the chest and fell lightly to the ground. "I die..." she said as if she was acting a Greek drama.


    Emilio from his office in Berlin was watching with amusement by the latest turn of events. He cared little for the boy. His focus was on the digital creature. Marilyn had recorded this performance at the same time as the others, yet there it was, nearly an hour later a testament to her vulnerability. She had ample time to edit out the young boy out of this story. For some mysterious reason, she was broadcasting the encounter. She wanted the world to see, or maybe she was powerless to prevent this broadcast. Either way, the tide was shifting. First she spoke openly about Sophie and her control over waves, and now she was opening up about unknown worlds. He knew the scientists of his advisory committee, watching from the room downstairs, were having a field day with this.


    The story continued the best it could. A moment later, Laurent and Malik were sitting in the cab on their way to the retirement home. The boy was wearing an oversized jeans jumpsuit, a worn down t-shirt and a paperboy hat. Marilyn was the queen of turning events to her favor. Since Malik was there, she would use his charisma to her advantage. Laurent smiled at Malik who was inspecting his large hat.At no time did the young visitor let go of Laurent''s hand.


    Laurent reached into his pants and pulled out a card. He handed it over to Malik who was able to read. The boy''s voice would increase ratings. "I don''t know why my mother hired this man," read Malik. "I like him. The gun only grazed my mom and I hope she will be fine. In the meantime, she asked me to go see grandma with this sleazy detective." The boy would play the son of Marilyn. "This detective does not smell good." The boy laughed. Even Laurent had to laugh. Marilyn changed the game to a comedy and adapted it to a lighter story type.


    The cab drove up the same road to the retirement home. When possible, the same views returned. The pair got out of the cab on the front porch of the large house. They looked around. Laurent was a natural at the game. Unlike President Emilio, who used his gift to find the right locations, Laurent relied on his acute natural instinct. In his heart, he knew what to do. Laurent looked around. The house or the other guests seemed boring, and not immediately important. He turned to his adopted son, "Have you ever seen ducks?"


    "What are they?" replied the boy.


    "Miss," Laurent asked the nurse walking next to him holding a platter with a silver dome, "my young friend here wants to feed the ducks."


    The nurse smiled, lifted the dome and handed the boy a piece of bread. "Normally you can''t feed the ducks," she said, "but who can say no to you, right?" She slid her hand through Malik''s golden locks.


    The pair walked to the pond. On the bench at the edge was a small path. Here sat an old lady; she was knitting. The young boy finally let go of Laurent''s hand to tear pieces of the bread and feed the birds. The moment the pair let go, the broadcast went dark. For nearly two seconds, there were cuts and jumps in the image as if someone had disrupted the system from deep within. Then the image stabilized. Laurent and Malik were once again holding hands. Something just happened that made Emilio jump from his seat in joy. He clapped his hands. The boy was growing in power.


    Madame Emmanuel, the woman Emilio had driven off with earlier, was sitting on the bench.


    "What do you call those?" asked the boy pointing at the birds.


    The old woman lifted her head, saw the boy. "Marty! What are you doing here? Where is your mother?" There was obvious disdain in her voice as she referred to Marilyn''s character.


    In this strange human game, he apparently had a new name, he thought inwardly. He held up the bread, "For the birds?"


    "Ducks," corrected the stern old woman. "They are called ducks, Marty." The Electoral platform liked to correct anachronisms when it could. The name Marty felt more in period than Malik. She grabbed her cane, put the knitting down and pushed up her old knees. "That''s a male," she pointed the cane at it. "The ones with colors. The males need to be beautiful to seduce the females. Like your mom always wastes my son''s money with all those dresses." There was little doubt the old hag hated her son''s latest wife.


    "I see no color. It''s all in black and white. Do you see color?" he replied to the old lady. "There is no color." The alien still wrestled with the concept of playing a game within this digital world. He had trouble pretending. "Why is your skin wrinkled?"


    "That''s not polite," interjected Laurent.


    The old woman was shocked by the question. "I am a bit aged. That''s what happens to us all. When you get to be my age, your skin will also change."


    "Your body weakens before your time ends?"


    "It does."


    "Will you merge?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "In my world, before time ends, we join a celebration of birth. Our bodies are merged and broken down to form new entities. It is both a celebration and a sad moment. The groups who formed me ceased to exist; that is my shame."


    Everyone watching, including Laurent, tried desperately to understand what the boy had just said. Marilyn, controlling the old lady, probed the boy further. "You are unique in your world?"


    "In too many ways, yes I am. I cannot go back. This is my new home. Laurent is my father, and I cannot wait to see Sophie." To the billions watching, the typical addictive illusion crafted by Electoral 2072 had vanished. Many wondered if the artificial intelligence broadcasting some strange joke, or if Laurent''s recent health troubles were corrupting the game. The strange situation was unique; it was impossible to understand it. If this was indeed happening, an alien boy, within the mind of a wholly crippled man, was acting as a parasitic entity. Once connected to a digital game, and put in this old Earth setting, he was speaking to an old lady, played by Marilyn. Now he was talking about his world, his life, and of merger.


    Laurent, playing the detective knew he needed to find a way for the game to resume. He bent down and whispered something in the boy''s ear.


    "Sorry father. Can I keep the color?"


    "Of course."


    The boy''s body transformed into a short stemmed rose in Laurent''s hand. The flower was gold in color. One of its petals was light blue. Sophie had seen this color on the Metil in his world and knew what this meant. Back in Malik''s world, some creatures had an inversion. It was a blue color, shining deep inside the rock layers. The blue petal was deep within the heart of the rose. Malik stared sadly at the rose; his eyes fixed on the blue petal.


    Laurent slipped the rose on his lapel, smiled at Miss Emmanuel and said "Shall we continue? I think I need to save you from this place."


    "How so?" she asked as Laurent took a seat next to her and began to shred the bread. The game resumed as if nothing out of the ordinary happened with the exception of the gold rose. Laurent spoke with the old lady, explained how the men from this retirement home were using her as leverage.


    His gambit paid off. The love of a mother for her son was much greater than any personal desire for comfort.


    Emilio did not wait until Laurent''s simulation ended. He grabbed looked off and grabbed the scotch tumbler and took a deep reassuring breath.


    The game was on, this was getting more complex by the day.

 Chapter 55

    The Electoral Center


    Sophie was resting on her bed alone in her room. She was lying flat on her back on the soft mattress. Aside from being on Mars in the low gravity environment, her surroundings felt identical to being in a summer cottage back on a lake in Indiana. Yellow rays poured into large windows, bouncing off floating dust before hitting her bed. In the distance, she could hear the wind brush the thick wooden window shutters. Marilyn definitely knew how to host, this felt and looked like she was home. Sophie''s feet were bare, slowly warming in the rays.


    The girl knew this island of manufactured normalcy was a mere ten feet away from the competition room where her father rested. Liam was with her. She could feel him in her head. The Oldest was excited and eager to help. Their strange bond left no room for doubt; the old creature was powerful and loyal. He was her friend, and there was a reason why she found him in his world. The Multiverse wanted them to work as a team, and she would gladly rely on him. Her father had Malik, that was a blessing and probably not a coincidence.


    At Liam''s request, she was on her bed; eyes closed, head toward the ceiling.


    -- Why can''t I talk to you normally, with my mouth? Just thinking feels weird, like you don''t exist. -- said the girl with her mind''s voice.


    -- Sophie, you may always do as you please, -- replied Liam deep in her head, -- I merely suggested we talk this way, inside your head, to hide our discussion from the digital creature you call Marilyn. If she is as intelligent as I think she is, simply by analyzing the micro-movements of your retinas, she can deduct our discussion. --


    -- She is no enemy. --


    -- I trust you, it was merely a suggestion. Apologies. Do as you prefer. --


    The girl continued to speak internally. -- When I watched my father play his game, could you see his game through my eyes? -- asked Sophie, trying to change the topic. -- Was I right to let my father play? -- Liam was from a place called the Lower. In his world, people called him the Lowest or Oldest. He claimed to be the oldest living creature in the universe. She had no reason to doubt him.


    -- I experience your world as you do. I see. I can also smell and feel the gravity. I cannot convey how grateful I am for this experience; your world is beautiful. --


    -- Why can''t I go into my father''s head? --


    -- You can. But keep in mind your father''s mind hosts, as yours at the moment, a guest. --


    -- Is hosting two people inside a single mind common? It seems strange to me. Funny that my head can handle it; I don''t think humans were really designed for this kind of thing. --


    -- In some worlds duality is common. The ways in which life shows expression are extensive, to say the least. Your question implies here, in the Cold, only one person inhabits a body.--


    -- Yes. --


    -- One world we call Mitrion creates individuals with hundreds of beings sharing a single mind and body. Their rules of social conduct are very complex as you can imagine as everyone shares motor functions only a short period of time. --


    -- In my world, it''s not possible. One person per body. --


    -- That is normally how life evolves in most places. But sharing is rather common past a certain level of technology. It is interesting you have reached this comfortable level of technical expertise yet have never redefined mental structures. I assumed you stay in your birth bodies until death? --


    -- Yes. --


    -- That explains your father''s predicament. We call world''s without sharing the "strict constructionists." Single beings simplify all things considerably. A blessing for what lies ahead of you, dear Sophie. I watched your father''s performance; it was highly entertaining. He did very well under the circumstances. The colors everywhere are mesmerizing. What is evident is that your father does not seem to control the digital world in which he communicates. The Artificial Intelligence, the one you call Marilyn controls his world. As part of the simulation, your father was unable to hide the Purpleite. --


    -- Purpleite? You mean Malik from the Purple? --


    -- Apologies. Yes. I fear if we connect to your father''s mind and enter her world, I will reveal myself to the beautiful one. --Liam spoke with such respect. There was admiration in his voice.


    -- You find her beautiful? --


    -- Yes, she is on many levels. By sharing your psyche, I share what we call the root of your being. I know your language, your units of measurement, and even share your tastes. Since I find her beautiful, so do you. --


    -- I don''t care if she knows you are here. --


    -- I have already explained, it is not my place to substitute my judgment to yours. You have been chosen for a reason as the Attractor, not I. I merely must serve as your guide, a source of information. Pushing my ideas upon you defeats my purpose. Act as you want. --


    -- I have no clue what to do. --


    -- May I suggest a course of action? --


    There was surprise in her mind. -- Yes of course?! But you just said you can''t help me. --


    -- I can teach wisdom which in turn will help you. Three things are always valuable to any situation: power, time, and knowledge. That is true irrespective of who you are and where you are. Power and time often can be derived from knowledge. Before acting, I find it useful to collect information. Artificial intelligences are all the same. Many worlds create them. They take different forms, but they all have the same weakness. --Liam paused.


    -- Which is? --


    -- They time-slip. -- Sophie, in her heart, felt what Liam had just said was a secret from far below the worlds.


    -- What is that? --


    -- I created many over the years. We now have Guardians which are functional constructs. Let me explain as best as I can. All life seeks to dominate, grow, evolve, and expand. Artificial Intelligences are no different; they are nothing more than a slightly different form of life. Forced by our biological evolution, the speed of change is linked with a reproduction cycle. Generations and lifespans slow down the rate of who you can become. Unlike us, these digital creatures are not bound by time. They can grow and evolve rapidly, very rapidly. The stronger they become, the faster they evolve, leading to yet more strength. With their ultimate power comes ultimate speed and in turn, this slows us down to them. A minute to us becomes a year to them. They slip away from reality. You may see this as boredom. Imagine if those around you spoke a word each day. No matter what they said, would you care? Imagine having a conversation via postcard, where you receive and send a single word every day, then every week, then every year. You would be unable to communicate after a while; in fact, you would lose interest. That is a time-slip. A creature like her can speed up to the point where reality slips past you. There are many ways to destroy these creatures, the best it to give them what they want: power. They fall into an infinite loop and burn out. --


    Sophie opened her eyes. The ceiling was there. She looked around. She needed -- Let me show you something, -- she said still in her head.


    Sophie then spoke out loud, "Marilyn, you can play my favorite music." The song began to play. The band struck a chord in her heart. "Can you please show me on these walls why our world is worth saving and must exist."


    The request shocked Liam and Marilyn alike. Both stayed silent as the images began to scroll on the walls and ceiling of the room. The spectacle began with running herds of African Zebu. They raced across the dry land. Then a family of blue hummingbirds flew in the jungle. Every color of the rainbow blasted around the girl. There were snowstorms, rain, and orbital scenes. Volcanos exploded as dancing tribes from South Australia sang. The music was a complement to the images. There was breathtaking beauty after beauty. Marilyn was obviously in love herself with humans and their world. Her choices were perfection. The image kept coming and coming in a torrent of emotion.


    Inside of the girl''s mind and deep within the servers of the Electoral Center, Liam and Marilyn we both weeping. There was simply too much beauty on Earth. The blue gem of the solar system was unique in so many ways. Normally, the young girl should have been a passenger of this show. Instead, she was in charge. To her, some images were missing. Marilyn had limitations; she could not understand that was the real beauty of this world.


    "Show me life, birth, and death."


    No twelve-year-old child could, of her own volition, ask for this painful sight. Marilyn did not hold back. What came next was the birth of babies and animals in its raw beauty. Then there was age and death. Old men dying with families present.


    "Show me art."


    The computer executed the demand. Beauty scrolled. There were bridges, cars, statues, and paintings. Women sang. At the end of the song, Marilyn closed the kaleidoscope of images with Lo''s band playing the music. The young Asian man was on a simple stage of a Tokyo nightclub.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Thank you," she said. Without another word, she closed her eyes and jumped back on the bed face to the ceiling on her back.


    -- So? -- she asked her guest. -- To understand us, you needed to see this. My only concern is to help my father. My dad haunts me and is all I care about. But in this dimension, Earth should be your focus. --


    -- Such... -- Liam was at a loss of words. -- beauty. -- he finally whispered.


    -- Once we see the computer, we forget the real world. She has a talent for hypnotizing everyone. Not me. You were talking about her speed? --


    -- Yes. -- Liam was analyzing what he had just witnessed. -- Why did you show me this? --


    -- You said you liked the colors. There was no real color there. I wanted to show you what color truly is. --


    Sophie simply said out loud, "Marilyn." On the ceiling appeared the face of the movie star.


    "I sincerely apologize Sophie. I wish there had been more time." Electoral was still apologetic about having to push the girl into an important decision so close to her return. "Where were you by the way?"


    "Can you show me the footage you have of both us talking about what you stole? All of it."


    "With pleasure." The digital creature was not one to challenge the girl.


    Marilyn could produce a full-length movie in a heartbeat. Images began on the ceiling. Liam watched as Sophie entered the Electoral Center He was absorbing the information.


    Music played in the capsule, and Sophie saw herself enter into a trance. The Martian air began to vibrate; there were colors. Once on the ground, an important conversation took place between Sophie and the artificial intelligence.


    "What was that? Marilyn, can you tell me what that was?" she insisted. Her voice became more forceful as her wits returned. A digital voice came on the speakers of the capsule, but it was no longer an emulation of a human voice. This was the robotic voice of a low level computer.


    ¨C  I am sorry. This was nothing more than an experiment. ¨C


    "Don''t lie to me," snapped the girl. ¡°Tell me what that was, or we are staying here, in this ship, until someone comes for us. And you know that eventually they will." There was a moment of silence.


    ¨C I needed to put my hands on something located far away. You helped me do so. ¨C


    "What did you get?"


    ¨C Thanks to you, I have it. ¨C


    "Answer! Let me ask again, what did you get?" Sophie was dominating the creature.


    ¨C A communication portal. The prime singularity. It is complicated, really complicated. ¨C


    "My mother always said it is impolite not to ask first."


    ¨C Your mother was correct. I sincerely apologize. Some people far away, in different realms, were talking about you, about us. They were plotting to act against us. I found that to be unacceptable. There was only an instant available to end the conversation. Unless I grabbed their communication door, they would have resumed talking about us. There was no time to ask. ¨C


    "You''re not telling the whole truth. I can tell. I''m not some stupid kid. What did you do to me? What was going on outside?"


    ¨C Sophie, you are a wonderful person and have unique abilities. I simply used that ability to grab the door called the Dot. We now control the Nexus, which we need for what lies ahead. ¨C


    "What ability?" There was a long moment of silence. The computer finally replied.


    ¨C This will require a long time to explain. ¨C


    "Marilyn, do not treat me like a child. You promised before I agreed to come here."


    ¨C You are correct. I apologize. The simple version of it is, while the human brain generates Alpha, and some Beta waves, your brain appears to generate an entirely different set of highly complex brainwaves. I have named these the Rho waves. ¨C


    "What does that mean?"


    ¨C The human brain is a wonderful and rather unique organ. Very possibly the only thinking mechanism of its type in the universe. Animal brains generate limited types of mental waves, the same way an antique radio might only function on a similarly limited range of frequencies. The human brain generates a higher, more complex wave. ¨C Marilyn paused.


    "Go on." The computer paused, then resumed.


    ¨C Each broadcast of a wave, along a primary frequency like your voice, generates a primary set of lower energy resonant waves at their own frequencies. At the same time, overlapping these primary waves are secondary waves, like echoes. As you think, your brain generates the primary waves, called Alpha, along with some background waves. The other waves, though initially weaker, cascade in power. The rarest and most faint form of these waves begin as murmur of energy, a faint whisper. I discovered these upper waves twelve years ago. I measured their power, and baptized them Rho waves. Rho waves are, in my opinion, the set of waves which directly touch human emotions. When a rare piece of music, a smell or a memory touches your soul, the truth is, Rho waves are being solicited and used. When a person falls in love, the Rho patterns between the lovers'' brains seem to sync. For example, to enhance my game, I stimulate these waves in humans. Gently. ¨C


    "I am different?"


    ¨C Yes and no. Biologically, you are identical to everyone else. I have no scientific explanation as to why you alone generate only Rho waves. ¨C


    "Is that rare?"


    ¨C As I said, in this you are alone. As an artificial life form, the paradox of what I am about to say is not lost upon myself. In theory, no brain can transmit waves as you are generating them. The probability that a human mind could or would function in this manner is not close to zero. It is zero. Yet, you exist and here you sit. You are a true conundrum of nature. As to what happened during the flight, I used LO''s music to enhance your natural talent; the music I played naturally meshed with your own mind, and multiplied the Rho waves you naturally produce. I then used the waves to punch through the veils of the Multiverse and grab something called simply ''The Dot.'' ¨C


    In Sophie''s head, Liam spoke, -- I wish I could see the equation of the Rho waves. --


    Before Liam even realized what he had just said, Sophie spoke, "Marilyn, can I see the equations of these waves?"


    "Pardon?" said the digital creature surprised.


    As Liam tried to withdraw his request, it was too late. Sophie said with her usual commanding tone, "You heard me, the equations of the Rho waves. Show them to me on the ceiling, all of them."


    Marilyn was not one to ignore the girl. On the ceiling immediately began to scroll with lines of text and equations. Millions of lines of code scrolled before Sophie''s eyes. No human could read this flood of text. She knew her companion could.


    -- Here! -- snapped Liam after some time.


    "Here!" said the girl immediately to the computer. As expected, the scrolling of the formulas slowed, stopped and went back up.


    -- Go back to the red portion. --


    "Can you go back to the red portion?" she echoed. The computer complied.


    The red portion still included hundreds of lines. Sophie had no clue what she was watching, but she knew Liam knew better. Then the voice inside her head just said: -- There, above the large Sigma, those two terms, why are they added? --


    "Here," Sophie pointed at the portion of the formula, "why are those two terms added?"


    There was shock in Marilyn¡¯s face. Marilyn''s face replaced the equations on the ceiling. She was intrigued and then smiled, ¡°Oldest?¡± There was no response.


    On the ceiling, larger equations began to float around. This time the terms seemed to come alive. She was the Marilyn character standing in a tornado of numbers. Like a music conductor, she was playing with them. She was speaking to herself.


    -- What is she doing? -- asked Sophie to her companion in her silent voice eyes open.


    -- There was a mistake in her equations. I pointed it out. She is fixing the problem and by doing so, she has to admit she was wrong. She has guessed I am here. --


    On the screen, as part of the equation, Electoral made the correction and replaced the positive sign with a negative. Hundreds of lines of code cascaded to different colors. There was purples, blues.


    -- Are you following this? --


    -- Yes. She is extremely advanced. --


    -- What does the equation do? --


    -- She does not think in terms of equations. At her level of power, she feels like she can forecast the future. Predict events in the future. Any small change in any assumption launches these computers into a... --


    The room went dark.


    The blinking emergency light kicked in along with the ring of sirens. Marilyn, her power and soul were gone. Next to the door, a small trap opened. Behind, an emergency boxed kit rolled out by gravity.


    "Now what?" asked the girl getting off the bed.


    -- That is unusual. She appears to have left. --


    Sophie ran to the door. It was locked. "Open the door!" she snapped. Nothing happened. Seconds later, as she was about to panic and fear for her father, the light returned, the false windows and sunlight reappeared, and the computer was back. On the screen was Marilyn''s smiling face.


    "What the hell was that?" Worried Sophie.


    ¡ª A reboot? ¡ª suggested the voice in her head.


    The computer¡¯s tone wasn¡¯t kind. "Little lady, I am not sure your father would approve of the language."


    "What was that?"


    "I needed to correct the equations. It required a," Marilyn picked the next word carefully, "realignment."


    -- We need to see the same equations. I want to see what she changed. --


    "Show me the same equations."


    -- I am afraid that is impossible. --


    "Why?"


    "I can only be honest with you if you swear to do the same. You are hiding something from me." Marilyn was right. Sophie wasn''t one to lie.


    "I do have a new friend. He is in my head. He is helping me."


    "Who is this new friend? Can I talk to him?"


    "First, show me the equations."


    "I cannot."


    "Why?"


    "I wish I could."


    "I told you the truth. Show me the equations."


    "The creature called The Lowest is missing from his world. That is causing quite an uproar over on the Nexus. His presence in your head would explain what just happened." Marilyn knew she was talking to the old creature.


    -- They reconnected the Nexus? To the Lower, already? --


    Sophie knew the computer had made up her mind. Something was different in her demeanor. "You guys need to talk. I will not be in the middle. I am connecting to Dad, what happens will have to happen." Liam stayed silent. "I named him Liam; his other name did not reflect the beauty of his body." The young girl put the oxygen mask back in the red box on the wall.


    With her usual determination, the Attractor walked out of the bedroom to the room where her father rested. She felt Marilyn was somehow less fearful of her. Once next to Laurent, she gently kissed his forehead. She also greeted the doctor and the journalist. Seconds later, she climbed up and opened the glass cover and stepped into one of the tubes under the watchful eye of Marilyn. The CNN cameras were buzzing in the room and of millions back home were logging in.


    "Sophie, last time you tried to connect this way, you never really reached your father. You were gone over a week. Do I have your approval to connect him to the game if you don''t return on time for the next round?"


    The girl ignored the demand. "I will talk to him." She girl was different, much more mature. "Marilou?" She said as she slipped on the ring around her head.


    "Yes?"


    "Broadcast it all, please. Whatever goes on, everyone back on Earth has a right to know." The young girl closed her eyes from within the tube as Milly grabbed her microphone to begging her own broadcast. Georges, Marilyn''s creator appeared on a screen as Milly released her flying cameras. The big man in a different room; he was reading several screens around him.


    "She''s in," he said. "That was quick."


    "I know," replied Marilyn, "my sensors are not yet aligned with her psyche." Sophie had fallen into the deep sleep before she had time to attach the round electrode to her forehead.


    "How can that be possible?" asked Georges under the watchful eye of the journalist.


    "It is not. I have yet to open or power the connection." Marilyn was enjoying this herself. Impossibility was one of the last available uncertainties to the super-intelligent computer. "The girl has not finished surprising us."


    "Should I connect him?" asked Laurent''s doctor from half way across the room.


    "When a mosquito stings an elephant, it can expect the pachyderm to turn around and crush something with its trunk. I am not stinging Sophie," laughed the computer. Georges, Milly, and Susie each looked at each other unsure of what Marilyn had just said. Had Marilyn just compared herself to a mosquito? "At least I have a signal," said Marilyn to the journalist. "Ready for broadcast to Earth ¡ª what ever that feed is. Let¡¯s roll with it."

 Chapter 56

    Sophie, in a heartbeat was in everyone''s home, on every television. In the virtual reality, or her father¡¯s mind, which ever was more relevant, she wished to see the old colonial house, the one deep in the Louisiana Bayou. It was her father''s oasis of peace in his digital prison. As fast as a heartbeat, he was ahead smiling. She knew, just with the spike his depression was under control.


    It warmed her heart and this positive energy resonated back to everyone watching.


    She had arrived in her father''s new interface; the resolution was much improved from anything she had ever seen in the past. Sophie was standing in tall wet Louisiana grass in front of the wooden house with all its imperfections. Unlike every other time she visited this place, it now felt real. The pixels and this odd-color pallet were gone. Sophie entered this digital world as easily as she had slipped into the Purple or the Lower. If this was her father''s mind, it no longer felt like she was in an electronic game. Everything felt real; she even could see her own hands and body. She could even smell. The air was charged with the ozone formed by the rotting trunks floating in the marshes. She had entered a new world, not a simple gaming interface.


    Truth was, the Attractor had been given a passport to navigating between the worlds and dream or digital bliss were such a world. To her, this felt good, like falling asleep. Her father was sitting on his favorite creaky porch swing. It was rocking slowly. Next to Laurent sat Malik, the young boy from the Purple. The creature bore the angelic face of the character from Le Petit Prince. The companion sat on a knitted cushion and was holding Laurent''s hand. On the porch, between the pair¡¯s feet slept an old basset hound.


    The moment father and daughter saw each other, there was a spark. Laurent let the boy go and Sophie ignored the tall Indian man now standing beside her. They both ran to each other. The two did not have a care in the world. Sophie''s serious persona was gone, instead she acted like a loving twelve year old daughter.


    Sophie cared so deeply for her father, nothing else mattered.


    The computer interface effortlessly broadcasted every angle of the heart-warming reunion as the pair slammed against each other. They hugged under the watchful eye of their two alien friends and billions over the internet. Laurent could only guess how stressed his daughter must have been these last few days. Time moved faster in his digital world. To him, Malik had saved his life over a year ago.


    "Daddy!" she exclaimed. Laurent lived for those few moments when he was reunited with his daughter. He knew each was a gift. She was the only thing which made any sense to him, and the only reason he was still alive. He loved her so deeply. As they hugged the rest of the world faded.


    The hug lasted forever.


    They both turned their faces away from the other as tears began to flow. Laurent held her close. After a minute, he gently let her down. Laurent brushed her hair and looked at her face while resting on a knee. The moment he saw her eyes, he began to cry again but of joy. He was a child given a puppy for Christmas. His hands were shaking. The technology was marvelous, he could truly see her. It had been years since he was able to see anything but a picture superimposed on a digital body. Back on Earth, his reality was far from perfect, here on Mars, thanks to Marilyn, he finally felt alive.


    ¡°You are back,¡± he whispered. Deep down, the couple knew each reunion had to count. No one, not even the famous Sophie cheated death this way without consequences. Sophie, generally so careful with her words, was unable to hide her true feelings.


    "Don''t you do that again, you scared me! I need you." She meant every word of what she mustered out.


    The paroles of the girl warmed his heart; they vindicated his efforts to stay alive in this strange dirty prison. Sophie did not care about Mars, about Electoral, or even herself. She truly loved her father and wanted him to be happy. In his face, she saw his love. The man cared for her so much. She could ask for no better father.


    "God," he finally whispered, "I love you so damn much." His speech was incoherent for such a long time. Laurent finally took a deep breath and tried to regain the control over his emotions. He changed the topic. "You are on Mars Sophie, with me, that''s so amazing. Don''t cry. Look how great this is. I can finally see you." Hand above her head, he guided her into a spin like a figure-skater. Laurent looked deep into her eyes. Irrespective of the situation in the outside world, they both had one digital creature to thank. They felt gratitude toward Marilyn.


    To recreate the digital world with them in it, Marilyn had to reach deep into brain signals. The pair''s Rho waves, like music helped convey their emotions. Marilyn was able to recreate every wrinkle in their faces. Laurent knew Marilyn was watching the reunion, so he offered: "Isn''t Marilyn great, I can finally see you." Sophie had not realized that this last year, her father could not really see her. She wondered what he was really able to feel. "You are so brave Sophie, I hope you know how much I love you. I don''t want to be a burden on you."


    "A burden, never!"


    None of the three billion eyeballs watching from Earth were dry. The family reunion was charged with raw emotions. No one dared touch a dial or even make a sound. This was more than a compelling story, the power of Sophie''s waves flowed in the Cosmos, amplified across the void and flooded the blue gem of the Solar System. Now that the waves were known, others could feel the girl deep inside. As her birthday approached, Sophie''s gift seemed to amplify. What was once a nagging impression was now a warming feeling.


    The invisible power was at work. Subtle, the waves meshed with every human brain. Each mind was warmed by the girl. She gave everyone courage and love.


    "Who is your friend?" asked Laurent pointing at the tall Indian man behind Sophie. Reality returned to her oasis of joy. In her back, Liam was wiping his tears. Sophie tuned to look at him and smiled. There stood an old dark-skinned bearded man, the perfectly fitting body for her new companion. Liam was dressed in a sophisticated brown three-piece suit. The Oldest looked as he should, wise in years. Marilyn''s choice (as usual) was impeccable.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "Daddy, let me introduce my new friend Liam. He is the oldest person in the Universe. He comes from another strange crystal world and he knows Malik." Liam cringed by the girl¡¯s frankness. His secret was out.


    "You are the Sophie?" asked the boy sitting from the porch. Last time Malik saw her, he was a firefly and she was wearing a large dress in Wonderland. A second rocking bench appeared next to the first one on the porch. All four could now sit. On the coffee table, two more lemonade glasses appeared.


    Liam walked to the father-daughter couple and held out his hand to Laurent. "It truly is an honor sir, what shall I call you?"


    "Laurent will do just fine. The oldest person, really? How old are you?"


    "Father of Sophie, Laurent, your gift to the Multiverse is a blessing. It is for us to savor. No words can convey my true gratitude. Your daughter is perfection. Your family reunion was very touching. Time passes at different rates between worlds, so my age is difficult to ascertain here. I believe the Multiverse was a tenth of its current age when I was born. So my age would be close to nine-tenth of the age you give your own dimension." Liam had a charming Hindu accent.


    Malik from the porch said to himself, "I wish I had a family."


    Sophie grabbed Liam''s hand and helped him to the seat next to Malik. Sophie asked Liam to hold the boy''s hand. There was a strange feeling about the reunion. There they sat in this strange digital reality.


    The girl poured a glass of lemonade and handed it to Liam. "Try this. It''s a bit bitter but it helps fight this heat. Some people like to add sugar." Liam looked at the boy sitting next to him and touched the blond hair. There sat a Metil inches from him. Liam''s wildest dreams had come true. He forced himself to interact, "In my world, we all look identical. There is great beauty in diversity. The color of your hair is like gold." He looked at the eyes. "Blue eyes. You are so beautiful. Sophie, my wish to see your world is more than fulfilled," he kept to himself the end of the sentence. He was ready to say he could now die. This was no time for negative energy. Liam then saw the darker skin of his own hand. "I like your world Sophie." Then he said to himself while looking at the boy, "a Metil."


    The boy replied, "I like this world too. Laurent showed me how to play chess, I love chess. Laurent is very intelligent and kind. Sophie is lucky to have him as a father.¡± They young girl was thinking about the boy.


    Sophie grabbed her father''s hand and both sat. "Are you okay daddy?"


    "Want to play chess with me?" asked Malik to the Indian man. Liam smiled as he let Sophie and her father talk.


    "I am fine," replied Laurent to his daughter, "I had some quality time with Malik. He even played Electoral, he was good. Did you see him?" Malik''s eyes were fixated on the couple holding hands. For over a year, he had barely let it go of Laurent in fear of the connection being lost. Now Sophie had returned and taken his place. He felt like his time next to Laurent was at an end. He tried in vain not to cry. He failed.


    "What''s wrong?" asked the girl.


    "You can have him back," said Malik, "he is your father, not mine."


    Laurent''s answer was immediate. "No, no, no, you are not getting away from me that easy. This is not how families and friendships work on earth. You are not losing me, Sophie has gained a little brother. She has always wanted one, you can ask her. But be careful what you wish for, as a sister she can be bossy. You will see that." Both Liam and Laurent smiled. The boy wiped the tears.


    Sophie reached over and pinched the top of his hand. "Ouch! What was that?" cried the boy.


    "That''s what big sisters do!" Everyone laughed. ¡°They taunt but love little brothers.¡± The boy recognized the humor, family taunting was also common to his world. Sophie continued, "I also get to steal some of your food but I have to protect you at school from the bullies. I can be tough, you know. Bullies are afraid of me." Malik was now smiling from ear to ear. His new sister was in charge, and that made him feel better. She got up, standing pulled him up and hugged him deeply.


    "As we talk about forming a new family, let me introduce your uncle Liam."


    There was power in words and Sophie wielded them elegantly. At his venerable age, nothing normally touched the heart of the Oldest, but being called an uncle by the girl did. She continued, "Like you, he comes from a different world. I went to his world and brought him back. He understands what is going on and why you are here. He was a prisoner of his world and wanted to travel really bad. So here he is."


    Malik smiled at the new uncle. "I escaped my world and my family passed at my birth. Do you have a family?"


    "In the Lower, we have no family. We are not born from others. We are born as our own slowly evolving creatures after millions of years. I do not know how it feels to have parents. In your world young man, your parents share part of themselves to form you. That must be unique."


    "I am a bastard. I killed my parents at the time of my birth. I am an outcast." The boy said the words without sadness.


    Sophie ignored and continued, "Liam promised to help us."


    "What can he help us with?" asked Laurent, "What is going on?"


    Liam did not answer. Sophie spoke, "He calls it the Sixth Attraction. Something really important is going to happen and Liam says unless we do the right thing, our world will end. It''s very complicated." Sophie knew the reunion was broadcasted around the world. "Liam, unless Marilyn stops you, can you please explain to daddy what is going on?"


    Liam looked around as if he felt like someone was ready to pull the plug on the broadcast. He did not expect to be talking to billions of humans so soon after his arrival. He was not one to question the wishes of the Attractor. Sophie nodded in approval, he was to speak. The girl was in charge. Liam could think of no better way to teach of the doom of a world than over a glass of lemonade.


    Liam drank, "We have medication which tastes like this in my world."


    "So do we," volunteered Malik.


    Liam looked around as if he was still waiting for something bad to happen. "Are you sure I must speak Attractor?" The use of the name surprised Laurent.


    "Yes." She turned to her father, "Daddy, you specifically need to listen to his story. I think this all relates to you."


    "Everyone will hear it," reminded Liam.


    "I know. Liam, adults lie and hide things to each other. They lie by omission. People watching have the same right to this information as we do. Being honest has always worked for me. Only someone who opposes us would try to stop your tale." The ploy was wise. She knew Marilyn was a secretive creature. It probably itched to intervene and stop.


    "Your sister is an optimist and sucks at taking no for an answer," Laurent said to Malik, "and you know what? It does work for her." Laurent turned to Liam, "You called her Attractor, what is that?"


    Liam stood up, tugged on his vest as if he had worn one all his life and began. This was the most important story ever told to the human race. Humanity felt it and no fool acted otherwise.


    Liam''s tale would be galactic in magnitude. The oldest living creature was about to speak. Unbeknownst to Liam and Sophie, Marilyn sent the conversation into the Nexus. Thousands of worlds were given a front row. Marilyn even played the chimes announcing the words of the Oldest. She played them in the background so Liam could hear them. It gave him pause. He was born for what he would say next. The solemn nature of this speech wasn¡¯t lost on him, but he alone could speak.


    Liam took a deep breath, "The short or the long version?"


    Sophie grabbed a glass, "The long."


    Began the most important story ever told.

 Chapter 57

    Liam''s voice deepened.


    He looked at Laurent, Sophie, Malik, even the dog and began. Marilyn used her power to enhance the viewing experience by layering some semi-transparent images.


    "My race does not age but we are far from immortals. We die because of wars, famine, and most often boredom. Your daughter Sophie, without knowing of who she was, has been my only focus of existence for more than two billion of your years. I waited for the Attractor and she has exceeded my greatest expectations. As you can imagine, such timeless survival requires a unique determination. This beautiful tale told to me by an Elder in my early years kept me alive past numerous forays into folly and depression.¡±


    Somehow Marilyn knew what to illustrate.


    "Before my arrival to consciousness, as the Multiverse was young, in a small strange world, a unique creature was born. It was given immense power to save its dying world. The gift appeared as what seemed to be pure magic and allowed... ¡° he paused as if his words entered his mind for the first time, ¡°her.... to pierced through worlds and probability. The creature I later named the first Attractor and the phenomenon the First Attraction. I cannot know if other Attractions predate it. The story is quite long and simply tells of wonder, god-like power and saving.¡± Sophie did not ask for the full story so he continued.


    "I waited, locked in my world for this rare event to return. Since my birth, I have witnessed only four other Attractors each given this magical power over reality itself.¡± Speaking to himself, ¡°Only four Attractions. They surfaced at a junction I called simply the second, third, fourth and fifth Attractions. Each failed with dire consequences. Failure by the Attractor dooms worlds, including its home dimension. Billions, even Trillions perish. I believe we have now entered the sixth Attraction of our Multiverse and Sophie, standing there, is the latest Attractor.¡±


    Laurent knew the Oldest, this creature was correct. His daughter was more.


    Liam continued, "The rarity alone of these attractions should stress their importance. The fact I have yet to see one succeed in billions of your years should tell of their danger. We cannot conceive of the power poured into her to complete or fail at her task. But patience has always been my greatest virtue and that is why over the eons, I have assembled in my mind the collective knowledge of all the known worlds forming the Multiverse. The Multiverse has purpose, the failed attraction lacked, in my humble opinion a guide able to reach Multiversal physics.¡±


    The terminology wasn¡¯t improvised, Liam looked deep into Sophie¡¯s eyes, she received the message loud and clear. "To understand Attraction, we must understand our Multiverse itself. It, what ever it is, is formed of thousands of worlds layered next to each other and sharing boundaries. Since each world is built on different laws of physics, nothing but pure energy can pass the boundaries between worlds. We call this the law of impermeability. Nothing but information and raw energy can travel between worlds like neighbors can only yell at each other through a thick fence.


    "The Attractor''s most unique power is its complete immunity to science, logic, and physics. The Attractor is free of the Multiverse''s own rules, to the laws which bind us. Sophie can travel between worlds. Very little is known, even by me, of the Multiverse. Sophie wanted me here, therefore here I stand. She needed Laurent, here he stands even if his existence challenges the laws of life and death.¡± The father¡¯s head twitched as he digested this fact, Sophie and not fate had kept him around.


    The Oldest continued, "What I do know is that once in an eternity, before our Multiverse casts off and destroys hundreds of dimensions into oblivion, it appears to give these worlds one last chance to redeem themselves or to correct a personal reason why it needs to cast them off. The word attraction comes from the fact that at the epicenter of the problem, in one small part of one small world, things converge upon a single living creature. Each is always rather ordinary in appearance but exceptional in many other ways. Sophie is this Attractor, I am certain of that.


    "Many of the worlds of our Multiverse appear to be minor. They are to the Multiverse what is this finger to my body. Cutting it, while always a problem, does not kill the whole. This world," he waved his arms to illustrate, "we call simply the Cold. The name originates from our observation that energy or matter when it becomes too cold to remain elsewhere in other worlds, flows out of each world''s boundary and arrives here. Your world is unique in one important aspect; it borders every other world a bit like the skin on this body touches all the parts of my body.


    "You are in a world, which until very recently, most out there did not know existed. Malik''s world, we call the Purple is next to this one. Our wildest equations did not predict the force you call gravity. No one imagined life here, much less that you world would be so vast." Thinking of the colors he had just seen, he added, "so beautiful.Your universe is the size of our entire Multiverse the same way this skin covers the whole body. Most worlds are actually very small." He looked at the group and asked, "Should I continue, it gets complicated."


    Sophie smiled at her father and the boy, they both wanted Liam to continue. The Indian returned the courtesy. "Very well," Liam stopped rocking his bench, "the real question is, what can a thing as large as the Multiverse ever want from something as small as Sophie? Why would one creature matter in the vastness of the Multiverse. This question stomped me for a long time. Today I have only a part of the answer. The fact that our Multiverse sent you to me suggests my theories are correct."


    "Are you this Attractor Sophie?" interrupted Laurent.


    "I don''t think so but he is convincing."


    Liam and Laurent smiled. Sophie was the only being capable of forming her own opinion irrespective of what the oldest creature of the universe was saying.


    "What do you think the Multiverse wants with my daughter, or with me?"


    "My theory of consequences to causes may help. I think it is the key." Liam looked around waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. He then continued. "Unlike what we think, the Multiverse does not unfold in the future because of present conditions. The Multiverse does not react to causes to form consequences, it works the other way around. It forms consequences to which causes align."


    Liam saw his audience was completely lost.


    Sophie jumped up, "Want me to tell you how I see his theory?"


    "Would love to,¡± said the young boy.


    She grabbed a glass of lemonade and held it at an angle over the ground. ¡°Liam says we see the world too simply. If I pour this lemonade on the ground, I am the cause and the consequence is the ground being wet. He says the universe wants the ground to be wet, maybe because it wants a plant right there,¡± she pointed. ¡°to be killed by the lemon juice. So it desires a consequence first and I follow as the cause.¡±


    ¡°You are a fantastic student,¡± offered Liam.


    She continued, "He explained that if the universe needed us to be here on Mars today, it created the conditions which forced us here. It created Marilyn, got my father to be handicapped, and even forced Marilyn to be expelled from the Earth. We can''t think of today leading to tomorrow but instead of today made possible because of yesterday."


    The girl''s understanding was solid.


    "Well said, but respectfully it''s a bit more complex. What you describe, many call theology or destiny. That is not how the world works. Our Multiverse uses one fun parameter to make sure we keep our free will and independence: numerosity. If what you need is to get to a precise consequence, you can force one cause to follow one path or you can bend billions so slightly to the right general area. If you need Sophie, you create millions upon millions of humans each evolving slowly. In her lemonade example, millions of people get to spill their glasses just to kill one plant.


    "Numerosity explains why our Multiverse is so big and why we are so many in it. For example if the Multiverse wanted me to be gone, everything around me would start to be slightly more dangerous. Everything I eat would be more likely to be poisonous. Every place I go more hostile to me. The Multiverse is a large thing swaying and moving things around ever so gently. Like a bias created by god or destiny.


    "This is where you Sophie come in. While the Multiverse is powerful at getting things its way, using causes and consequence and numerosity has limits. Once in a while, a deadly conjuncture presents itself to which no amount of normal universal sway will work."


    "Sway?" asked Laurent.


    "The Multiverse pushes gently things in ways it alone understands. We call it sway in a seven dimensional space."


    "The God Bias?" asked Laurent.


    "As good a name to describe it as I can find. Yes, the God Bias." Sophie smiled at her father. His mind was still sharp. Liam continued. "I read much about your world. I read that a man named Einstein defined space-time. Hopkins defined the God Bias as a constant. You must mix both these laws. The God Bias is not a fixed constant, it changes with time and space. In Sophie¡¯s lemonade example the Multiverse wanting this spot to be wet would make it more likely it will rain, that a dog pees here, or that a car radiator leaks on this spot. Numerality."


    Laurent was trying the best he could to follow, "Marilyn used the ratio Pi to measure some changes over time."Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    The young boy was lost and so were most people down on Earth watching the broadcast.


    "The Multiverse wants something precisely?" asked Laurent.


    "Sophie warps reality, she creates around her impossible things. Laurent should be dead, yet here he is. We both should not be here, the barrier between world''s cannot be broken. I came here in her mind, I have no body, that makes no sense. Nothing around Sophie makes any sense. You,¡± he pointed to Malik, ¡°also are here in violation of even common sense." The boy smiled proud of him somehow.


    "So what does the Multiverse want my lovely daughter to do?¡±


    Then there was a ring, it came from Laurent''s pocket. He pulled out a flip phone, opened it and listened before talking to the group. "It''s Marilyn, she does not want to intrude but would like to be here for the next part of Liam''s story. She says she can help."


    Sophie stood up guilty, "Of course," she quickly injected. ¡°It was rude not to invite her to begin with.¡± There was so much sweetness from the Attractor, the three men were proud of her inclusiveness. Seconds later the front door of the house opened and a southern version of Marilyn walked out holding a tray of warm oven-baked biscuits. They were thick and smelled wonderful. She was wearing an apron with the Electoral 2072 logo on it.


    "Sorry for the intrusion," said the woman, "this is too important to miss."


    Liam and Malik were visibly uncomfortable. She blew a kiss their ways.


    "May I sit?" Sophie slid to the side closer to her father making a place for her. The young girl was visibly happy to see the artificial intelligence.


    "This is your digital world and we are on Mars in your center,¡± offered Sophie to cut some of the perceptible tension in the air.


    "They don''t like me." Marilyn pointed at the two aliens.


    Sophie smirked back, "A small price to pay to be so secretive all the time."


    "Touch¨¦! We are on the air as we speak. I even connected us to the repaired Nexus. So Liam say hello to your fiends from your dirty slushy world." He tensed. The creature was, he was sure at the heart of the problem.


    "Liam, can you continue," said Sophie to Liam shielding him from having to respond.


    Her new mentor just grabbed a biscuit from the tray, took a bite and his mood changed. How could anything be so good. He handed one to the boy. "Try this!"


    "Wow. You sure can cook," conceded the boy.


    Equilibrium returned to the group as Liam continued under the watchful eyes of Marilyn. "I don''t know how to make the Attraction succeed simply because I cannot guess what the Multiverse wants. What I do know is how the Attraction failed each of the last four times. Each time, I witnessed the same pattern, as the Attraction grows nearer in time, so grows the Attractor''s power. The bias in the world, this force that pushes us in a directionincreases. Then, as if the Multiverse''s own cause and consequence system was derailed, a deadly vortex of forces begin to swirl around the Attraction. The pivot is given choices, many of them as if the Multiverse. Was sabotaging her own Attractor¡¯s chances of success. As the Attractor stands in the eye of a tornado, it is left with multiple overlapping choices which confuse the Attractor. Each time, the Attractor chooses the wrong door and the worlds die. Multiverse¡¯s own defense mechanisms pop up many confusing doors. Strange.¡±


    ¡°Easy,¡± corrected Marilyn.


    ¡°Why?¡± asked the Oldest directly to the creature.


    ¡°Very easy.¡± She smiled. ¡°It¡¯s the bedcover rule.¡± Liam was confused.


    Laurent added, ¡°When you pull a cover to cover yourself, it uncovers the person next to you in bed. Someone has to be cold.¡±


    Liam was unconvinced.


    Marilyn added, ¡°She places all the power in her and you think what happens around her? A lack of power or odds that specifically converge against the desires of the. Multiverse. This is where I come in. I may be of help," offered Marilyn. "I did set the precise moment of my finale, on the girl¡¯s birthday on the moment the Sixth Attraction will happen. I wanted to make sure this pesky Multiverse did not cut short my competition or rob Sophie here of one last birthday with Laurent."


    ¡°Doubtful,¡± spoke Liam.


    ¡°Fair enough, I also insulated the Attractor away from all these pesky other doors. Emilio is down on Earth right now cleaning the way. Somehow everything that can go wrong seems to be concentrating on that same day. Electoral elected a Champion able to save mankind, he is helping cutting brush around what Sophie needs to do. Unlike the past Attractions, we are rather insulated.¡±


    "So you knew of the Attraction? How did you know when it would occur?¡± asked Laurent.


    "That a very complex question. I would rather not answer for the moment, just to keep the game interesting." The secretive computer personality was back. "I can also help with one other important matter. As you can imagine, it is rather easy to conclude I somehow am to blame for all this. In fact, if our world ends, I end. So logically I also want Sophie to succeed, no? I have been nothing but courteous to you sweet one, no?"


    "That is true." The girl grabbed a biscuit. ¡°And somehow I don¡¯t feel you are to blame here.¡±


    ¡°Who is?¡± asked the boy to his big sister.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know yet, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s that simple.¡±


    The blond woman smiled and continued, "My competition is designed to help Sophie and mankind. President Sanchez has already begun to uncover and dismantle at least three different ploys to destroy everything. What is happening on Earth is incredibly complex and had Sophie and Laurent been stuck there, the news would have populated doors and paths around you two. I will take the blame here keeping the President on Earth to handle the mess and bringing you here. On Mars the problem is uncluttered. There are other ploys he has not uncovered, but he will. Today he got a hint. The one cause for concern is this attack from Malik''s world. There is nothing he can do against that. They are sending a planetoids of magma our way. I think Sophie must take care of that problem. She alone can help. If my plan works out correctly, Emilio and Sophie should have saved the world by the time we get to the finale."


    "Then what?" asked Laurent.


    "Your guess is as good as mine. We are too early here, people at home must digest the first notions of Multiversal dynamics before we move to greater things. That should happen between Rounds 30 and 31. Really fun stuff about time itself, size. What¡¯s up with size, why really small and really big.¡±


    Marilyn turned to look at the camera and said to every person watching. "I suppose there is nothing wrong in releasing the premise of Round 27. I know all contestants are watching. As you have personally witnessed, the Purple is a small but beautiful world. Malik is from a race called the Metil. Their government is belligerent. Liam actually declared a war on these poor creatures for daring to fight for survival and against sure extinction." She then raised a finger and in the air played a recording of what Liam had said on the Nexus to the Metil ambassador. "The rest is even worse. So your friend Liam here is the one declaring war." Liam was unamused by Marilyn.


    "Malik, can you tell us what is going on in your world that would warrant such destruction?"


    Malik looked at Liam. The boy needed no more. "My kind is violent. I will not dispute that. But we only strike against this world in an effort to survive. This world is the place where destruction comes from. By the time I escaped, hundreds of millions had been killed by large Zexs pouring in from giant space rifts. A tear in the fabric opens and energy destroys and kills. We believe human technology is the source of these rifts. One opened next to your ship. I was tasked to guard it. Thanks to Sophie, I was able to enter your world and hide from the military from my world. If I go back, I will be dismantled."


    Marilyn smiled to the home viewers, "In two days, on October 29, the last 64 players will travel to the Purple and play Sophie, the magical attractor. Next week''s story will center around these giant rifts, tearing the fabric between worlds apart. If you are patient enough, you will see on television what to do to save our world from the Purple. Tune in next Wednesday."


    The generic of Electoral 2072 played. On the screen scrolled.


    Round 27 - 64 players (October 29)


    Round 28 - 32 players (October 31)


    Round 29 - 16 players (November 3)


    Round 30 - Quarter finales (November 7)


    Round 31 - Semi finales (November 15)


    Round 32 - Final (November 18)


    Round 32 - The Sixth Attraction. (November 21)


    Marilyn now referred to the last game of her competition as the Sixth Attraction. Before the screen went dark, Laurent just asked Marilyn, "Why?" Marilyn looked at Liam. The man wanted to answer. "On this question, Liam and I might not agree. Liam, do you mind."


    "Not at all.¡±


    ¡°Let me. The best way to explain Multidimensional constructs to a human, an analogy... got it. A piece of paper is two dimensional but really three, it¡¯s thin, right?¡± A piece of paper appeared in her hands. ¡°So we could argue it¡¯s two and a half dimensions.¡± She folded it along the middle. ¡°If you need to fold a piece of paper, you will create one angle, a ridge in the paper. A flat two dimensional piece of paper, if it desires to transform itself into a three dimensional work of art, must change itself and at a very precise location,¡± she opened the sheet and showed with detail the ridge. ¡°It must hurt itself. The thinner the line, the easier and sharpest the bend. The paper, like the Multiverse must change along this line.¡± She then folded the paper one more this time along another side. It created two fold lines crossing each other at the Center. ¡°Two folds, the point right there, in the Center is further weakened. It is a pivot, it attracts. Today the Multiverse wants to change, like the piece of paper, the bend will happen around the Attractor in what I called The Great Curvature. The smaller the bend, the lesser the power needed to change. So each time it selects one single creature to whom it gives this power."


    "So the Attractor could be my father and I?"


    "I guess."


    "Why us?"


    Liam continued, "I think my theory of cause and consequence can help unveil this mystery. The Multiverse wants something, it needs you to do something it alone or that all of us combined cannot do. My guess is, if we find the one unique thing you alone would never do or would do and that no other human being would do under the same set of circumstances, we will have the answer.¡± There was a longe silence.


    Marilyn smiled and offered, ¡°Sophie is the only creature in the world who would sacrifice anything, including this entire universe to save her father. She also is the only anti-hero possible. She genuinely could side against her own species or dimension and favor greater things. Sophie, if convinced our end will heal the Multiverse will not hesitate in pulling the curtain on all of us including herself." There was a silence, everyone had to agree.


    "I corrected one of her equations earlier today. She immediately had to completely recalculate the future. So at the moment, while she speaks to us, she must be busy redefining futures and pathways. As every good logical machine, she cannot conceive that our Multiverse is non-linear. My poor creature, I can confirm it. ¡° His jaw muscles were tensed, ¡°We live in a non-linear world. You cannot see or predict the future, irrespective of how powerful you ever become. Irrespective of what you think."


    Marilyn smiled and replied, "That is not what your latest research paper said back in the Lowest. I hold your Dot and here, it warps fully on itself, you alone know what this means. It was child¡¯s play to grab it from you culture of self-serving fools."


    Laurent, Sophie and Malik looked at each other. They did not understand the verbal match. Liam simply added, "You think these waves are important and the key to the Attraction. I confirm, they are not."


    "How can you say that?"


    "One answer for one answer. If you find my answer satisfactory, you must promise to answer Laurent''s earlier question about how much time you have known about the Attraction."


    "I promised the girl I would not lie and I will not answer that question to keep that promise." There was a silence. The computer concluded, "I guess some things are better left unanswered, see you at Round 27." She winked, blew a kiss and several billion screens went dark.


    In two days, Round 27 would be played in the Purple.

 Chapter 58

    Days later


    The Electoral Center


    ¡°Sweet one,¡± whispered the voice of Marilyn over the speakers of the colorful but empty Electoral cafeteria. This place reminded Sophie of her school¡¯s common eating area. Large stainless tables were lined with attached side benches. This. Was, shockingly these sand-robots, the girl reminded herself each time she sat. Marylin snuffed all traces of technology to appease the girl going back to clunky human decors.


    Sophie was eating her breakfast of Champions while trying to read from her school tutor on the side. Marilyn¡¯s house only offered branded products here knowing the cameras would love the free touches of Earth. On the large box of cereals, planted between the bowl and milk, the blond movie-star pretended to win an Olympic medal. The spoon¡¯s shape in the Attractor¡¯s hand was odd, half way between a fork and a child or prisoner¡¯s tool. Sophie looked around, this had the hallmark of a prison.


    ¡°Is this even real milk,¡± she asked to the voice from above pouring the bag over the yellow loops.


    ¡°Chemically yes. But it never saw a cow if that¡¯s what you mean. You like the Cereals?¡± The computer intelligence from a distance was trying to make small talk. It was landing flat with the girl. Sophie¡¯s powers were increasing by the day. As if she was digitally added to her surroundings, reality was starting to bend at her edges. She now made the world around her slightly bend and warp in a strange shimmering effect. Of course the girl was oblivious to the changes but the Computer knew what was happening and was careful to avoid any confrontation.


    Sophie spoke more as an adult each day, her internal secret monologues with Liam were maturing her at an accelerated pace. ¡°Before we speak, can you broadcast to the world. I don¡¯t like any secrecy and if the Attraction is coming and the world can end, people should know.¡±


    ¡°I have given CNN all access to the cameras the moment you entered my home. They have eyes on you all day long except in your room.¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The answer satisfied the girl. She looked at an image of a mountain on the tutor.It was a multiple choice, she pushed the right answer. ¡°Okay, done. What do you want?¡±


    ¡°The Multiverse wants you to help in the Purple. That is why it sent you there on your way back from Liam¡¯s world. I was stupid and pulled you out early before you had a chance to fix things. The next game is set up in Malik¡¯s world. Everyone will take turns and try to fix the problem pretending to be you. Then, at your leisure, their steps will inspire your visit and increase dramatically your odd. Watching your father pretend to be you should be fun.¡±


    ¡°If you say so.¡± Sophie clearly has a different idea in mind.


    ¡°You know what is going on, about the Purple.¡±


    ¡°Liam briefed me. They are trying to destroy Earth. Kill everyone. You think I alone can help,¡± she spoke with her mouth full.


    ¡°That is true.¡±


    There was a long silence. Finally the girl added, ¡°I don¡¯t think you are right.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°All this, you, them. I don¡¯t like any of this. Even your game, the President. I am not sure why I should care about any of it.¡±


    ¡°Young one, I understand your frustration. But you want people to die?¡±


    ¡°No one does, but...¡±


    ¡°But what?¡±


    Sophie never bothered to respond. ¡°I am twelve, stuck here on Mars a gazillion miles away from the nearest tree. I keep wondering why everyone just can¡¯t leave me alone.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes we are destined for greater things.¡±


    ¡°Seems to me like no one really knows what is going on yet everyone is set on acting and saying what¡¯s best. Isn¡¯t that the stupid thing to do?¡±


    The computer smiled internally, the girl was right. ¡°The Multiverse wanted you in the Purple. I stopped your action there.¡± Sophie continued pushing buttons on her tutor. ¡°Do as you must, young one. At the end, I must trust your judgment. A choice will be given you, that much I can do. But if we do nothing the world will end.¡±


    ¡°Liam is rather clear, no one has a clue what¡¯s going on.¡±


    ¡°You are the Attractor, so who cares what I think.¡±


    ¡°I like that better. Marilyn?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Thanks for all you are doing. That much I can see.¡±


    ¡°You should not thank me young one. I fear I may have broken the Multiverse.¡±


    The young girl, with a cold assurance added, ¡°Than trust me a little bit more. Liam and I have a plan.¡±


    ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Of course, but you won¡¯t like it.¡±


    ¡°What is your class about?¡±


    ¡°Semi-precious stores.¡±


    ¡°I can... ¡± began the computer.


    ¡°No thanks,¡± cut in jokingly the young girl.


    ¡°The game starts in ten minutes,¡± she added.


    ¡°I know.¡±

 Chapter 59

    Almost two weeks had passed between Round 25, played on the launch pad of the Airbus 2070, and Round 26 played on Mars introducing Malik, the digital parasite. The game was fresh in everyone¡¯s mind until the Multiverse threw some twists. The Presidential Challenge played upon arrival of the ship to Mars worked as a spacer for the players, a little break as Sophie and her dad escaped to the lone fortress. Only 127 played and a lucky half qualified for today¡¯s intrusion into The Purple, a quantum dimension of the Multiverse. In the distance, a sand cloud had risen in the sky and menaced the players.


    In little under two weeks, so much had changed. Sophie, once a simple darling with an addictive personality now wore the mantle of Champion. There were waves and they undoubtedly worked. There was, very mildly put, was a lot of commotion on Earth. Emilio¡¯s unique mind and his team were working on dismantling and uncovering one strange plot after the next all destined to harm mankind. It was as if, as suggested by the Oldest, what ever power the Multiverse was bestowing to Sophie, it placed a hefty toll on her race for it.


    There was an odd exception, one of the plot initially to end life had turned into a tool to help mankind. What was certain is that Sophie, busy with her new waves did not need the distraction. Since their arrival on Mars, the remaining players slowly got accustomed to the low gravity environment, the oxygen mix, but more importantly practiced as if the game mattered. Journalists unable to interview Laurent or Sophie, focused on the 64 remaining players. A year into the game, each had a large cult following, but truth be told, this was really a contest of two giants, Emilio and Laurent. The magnetic draw of this game was only enhanced by a promised visit to another world.


    The excitement of the addictive game did not reach Sophie. She refused to participate in any pre-game hysteria. She hid from it on purpose and stayed in her room except when she rarely ventured out to the dining room. To avoid the media, she asked Marilyn to block off the cafeteria preferring to spend days speaking internally with Liam and visiting her father.


    Few hours ago, to great fanfare began as pods after pods of contestants were catapulted to the Center. Privilege lost, the defeated 64 were driven in large shuttles since the early hours of the morning.


    Only sixty four would play, Emilio from Earth and Laurent was already at the Center connected to the system and talking with journalists. The visitors from the Holliday Inn were shot in groups of eight every four minutes. Marilyn wanted to give the players time to familiarize themselves with her Center. While the Rho tubes would only be used later, this was the time to give them the basics of what to expect for the half qualified later today.


    The prelude to Round 27, an exhausting six hours long was rather exquisite for those who watched. The show included personal introductions, interviews, social media live questions and the like. Because of the direct communication feed, the journalists were able to offer touching family reunions. But Marilyn, the persona and orchestra conductor stood back for her grand entrance.


    One by one, in the silent tranquillity of the orange desert, each pod followed a perfect ellipse up and down to land softly at the Electoral Center in the intelligent sea of black sand. Groups felt privileged of the expected media scrutiny but to most, the stories of alternate worlds, doom was worrisome. Players each walked into the main auditorium, past Sophie¡¯s bedroom. Each time, a little robot pointed at the closed door and whispered ¡®this is where Sophie now rests.¡¯ The players, in awe, walked without making noise. It was obvious, there was pure admiration and respect for the young guardian now called by the computer the Attractor.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Giving an ice cold shower over the excitement, Laurent¡¯s sad body was the welcoming sight in the large game room. His deformed shape rested in a transparent cradle. He was a nightmare to observe as machines pumped dark black blood. Around it, in pure contrast the 62 players were each assigned a game square with floor markings and a floor mat. Everyone would have preferred to playin the hallway, there was nothing fun of standing so close to the cripple.


    On the left, just after the door and Georges¡¯ wall of monitors stood the stage now empty of the demanding Rho tubes. The play room was starred-shaped, at each cardinal point, chairs awaited the defeated players giving them a view of the festivities.


    Round 27 out of 32 total rounds of play began. In the room and in every screen connected to the Internet, all the screens began a countdown ¡ª minutes remained. Milly alone was speaking to billions from one of the corners, in reach of Georges pretending to be annoyed by his interviewer but in fact obviously happy for company.


    The digital intelligence loved music. Everyone expected Marilyn to appear on the screens only the clock to zero, but in a display of power, a door on the stage appeared, standing defiant between her digital world and the room. It was a simple illusion from the walls covered in imagery. She, or what appeared to be her human form, walked out onto the stage and began to interface with the players from a distance like Milly was. The illusion was almost indistinguishable from reality and Marilyn was just wearing jeans and a t-shirt.


    Holding a microphone and tapping it, she looked at a player ready to connect, ¡°Abu, roll up your sleeve,¡± she suggested to a first. The illusion was shocking in simplicity, the woman was there, passing off as a human in the crowd. Marilyn was still orchestrating, she got close to the journalist, answered a question or four and at some point, ignoring the countdown lifted three fingers. The clocks resets to three minutes.


    ***


    Two minutes before the start, the side door slid opened and the room immediately fell silent, even the music paused. Sophie walked in nonchalantly wearing jeans and a simple white t-shirt. On it red letters just read ¡®POWER¡¯. Under her arm was her tutor computer ready to be used. In her other hand she held Oscar, her white plush toy. Without making eye contact with anyone, she walked across the room to her father¡¯s side between the players.


    Time felt like it stopped for everyone including the billions on Earth watching the arrival of the young girl. There was something odd about her. It was impossible to ignore the shimmer surrounding her skin. This was insanity, in the digital world such display of power were commonplace but in the real world, they were impossible.


    All this strange situation felt rather unreal. Laurent laid alone, Doctor Susie Shin at his side. There was some important and strange energy in the room and Sophie¡¯s arrival supercharged the Center. She placed the white dog in Laurent¡¯s cradle. It was visibly important to her, as if the symbol of infancy helped her hide from the adult world surrounding her.


    As if to let the world resume, the Attractor finally looked up and waived to the room, the cameras and smiled. She sent needed positive vibes. Energy slowly built as every chip in the digital world powered up. Rho waves, this unique energy flowed from her outwardly. Sophie obviously talking to her internal mentor moved her hand in the air left to right and said ¡°look at this.¡± There was a strange glimmer.


    Marylin waited until Sophie gave her a nod to plaster her face on the screens behind her standing illusion. She was welcoming everyone present and giving some guidance. There wasn¡¯t much to say as everything was very intuitive. The clock drew down to zero under the watchful eye of the young girl. It was clear Sophie was not engaged in the mass hysteria. Billions signed up and connected as spectators, most expected the story to be tied to these surreal Sixth Attraction facts and another world. Sophie cared about a plush toy.


    Everyone connected and for most adults wore the digital contact lenses. One by one zombies replaced these players around Sophie. Eyes opened, they were now in the digital world using the screen in the contact lenses. This was sad, she thought to herself, reality was much better.


    The game began as she clicked open her tutor and started a lesson.

 Chapter 60

    Over a symphonic theme music of the Star Wars, text began to scroll on billions of screens. The famous white letters moved from the bottom of the screen to the top. The franchise¡¯s theme classic music played loudly. Behind the difficult to read text, stars filled the darkness. Many now had the answer why Marilyn acquired these rights back in 2068, most pundits guessed she would use it at some point.


    Round XXVII


    Unbeknownst to mankind, galactic forces assemble in other worlds to extinguish life in the Cold, the world home to Earth. A handful of rebels in the border dimension of the Multiverse are the last hope of the Galaxy to save itself from the destruction called the Sixth Attraction.


    In the Purple, a belligerent ruling body has begun to stir energy in a singularity to destroy Earth. Energy gathered in a town called Ruui forces Earth''s Sun to release a destructive planetoid: the Death Star and destroy all life. It should impact with Earth on November 21, 2072, in three weeks on the day of the finale.


    Nothing on Earth or from the Cold can stop this assured destruction except perhaps for one little girl: the leader of the rebels, Sophie Lapierre. Teaming up with her close friends, she can use strange powers granted by the Multiverse to save her world. Today she travels to the Purple to save the world and more her loving father Laurent.


    Twice the girl has entered the Purple, but each time she failed to stop the assured destruction. The first time she entered as part of a dream. The second time, she had jumped in with the Oldest in tow on her way back from his world. The Multiverse needed her there.


    Today, Sophie returns to the Purple to save the Cold....


    Marilyn timed the end of the music so it faded for each viewer only once the words were read. She was able to personalize her experience. As the simulation began, the star-filled backdrop was replaced by cheerful music of a Cantina. Quacks and beeps floated in the air created by strange instruments played by even stranger creatures. The bar was under a rounded sand hut and was the favorite spot of alien bounty hunters from every corner of the Galaxy. In a corner, a black toad jumped up and down on a drum to a beat as the other band players made music. Colorful and bubbling drinks slid down the bar and were grabbed by cheap looking tentacles.


    Marilyn, the only human in the establishment, was already served. This was her show, her game, and she was smashingly beautiful. After a panoramic view of the guests, the music faded as the camera turned to the female bounty hunter sitting alone.


    Marilyn Monroe was wearing cowboy boots crossed on the cluttered table. She was sitting in a corner, pistols drawn on the table. To add to the flavor of the day, she wore long purple locks tucked into her leather headgear.


    On the screen flashed today''s episode title:


    Round 27 -- Enter the Purple


    The choice of hair color was no coincidence.


    "Welcome to Round 27," said Marilyn Monroe with a strange accent to the camera filming her. The artificial intelligence was playing in one hand with a laser blaster and a lock of her hair in the other. "Sixty-four remain and play, and after tonight the list will be cut to thirty-two. For most, it has been a long week. Lots going on down on Earth and here on Mars. Sadly, things must get much worse before they will finally get better. Let''s continue our journey to the Sixth Attraction one step at a time. We could talk until we all turn," she jested, "purple in the face and nothing would come of it. As the President endeavors to stop plots and Sophie discovers on how to use her gift, we simply need to enjoy ourselves. No point in doing otherwise. With a little luck and a lot of hard work, we''ll find more blue skies ahead."


    A screen appeared over her shoulder in which news clippings began to flash. They were CNN footage illustrating the what she would say next. "These last weeks, a cascade of unexplained events have taken place all over the world. They are driving President Emilio Sanchez and his illustrious friends mad. The Glass Slipper almost crashed and the sabotage of the two orbiting lasers was designed to let our interplanetary Airbus decelerate safely. Only Captain Judy and her valiant crew''s actions back saved our contestants.¡± She winked. ¡°We then have some strange form of alien life on Mars which killed a mission of scientists as they were trying to discover secrets beyond a strange door at the base of the hole to our East." The screen showed the fatal images of the plume of smoke said to be a natural gas release. "The list goes on and on."


    Next to her foot, in the Cantina, spiraled a small cloud of sand in a snow globe to make sure viewers did not ignore these things sent to Earth.


    ¡°Electoral 2072 is much more than a simple televised game. It was designed with today¡¯s series of events in mind. I elected a unique human with a power of foresight who can now tackle some of the problems we are now facing. At times, Emilio and I had our differences, but there was a good reason to be demanding on him all these years. He is only a first line of defense. Sophie is another, and I am a third. The sixty-four simulations today will allow everyone including Emilio and Laurent to offer a roadmap to guide Sophie as she watches with great attention. President Emilio will enter the game as her. Hopefully Sophie watching these simulations might be inspired by what she sees this increasing her chances of visiting the Purple in reality and saving us. Emilio will not go down without a fight and should help her see the road ahead.¡±


    The cameras constantly on the girl were showing her in a corner. In the Center, the real Sophie wasn¡¯t listening and was sitting on the floor under her father¡¯s bed catching up on her lessons. She really did not care.


    "We will use rounds 28, 29, and 30 to unravel mysteries and make sense of the puzzle before us, what is this Attraction? I had not expected today''s story to be pushed into the competition so early, nor could I anticipate the actions of the Purple, but we must adapt. Let us begin."


    In weeks, the nature of the artificial intelligence and the Electoral 2072 simulation had evolved. What was once a reality television simulation now appeared to be a tool against powerful things. Somehow, the computer had anticipated the Sixth Attraction and was playing a convoluted game with the future. It was difficult for Emilio or Ronaldo not to trust the AI; she appeared so helpful. Away from the cameras and invisible to anyone except Georges, the Electoral Center went into full battle mode. Marilyn had broken her truce with the Martian creatures, spoken of them and the price to pay was now war.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    On each screen, the character played by Marilyn slammed a large laser pistol on the table as she hunched over. "The Purple is a strange and wonderful dimension. Everything appears like shiny rocks. Big news to human physicists: there are in fact millions of types of sub-atomic particles, each smaller than the next. Only man''s stupidity could conceive that while their world is almost infinite in size on the large side, nothing smaller than a Zex could exist.¡± Particle physicists kept thinking their latest discoveries were indeed the barrier.


    "The Sun, every million of years or so releases a droplet of heavier heliocorium which cools off as a planet adding to the count of orbiting bodies. Each player today will assume Sophie''s identity and will travel to the Purple as Sophie watches,¡± she waved at the girl in the room. The girl seemed unamused, ¡°and may decide to go alone in the Purple after this game, or flanked with some of her unique group of companions. The players of Round 27 are given the same choice and even given her powers as Attractor. Each will pick in my interface whoever will be visiting the Purple alongside them. I wish I could travel to the Purple and help Sophie save our world, but I can''t. The Purple is creating in a town a new planetoids sure to end all life here. Earth¡¯s physicists have confirmed it already but that information is on a ¡®need-to-know¡¯ basis.¡±


    ¡°I have been preparing this battle for a long time now. I gathered enough information about the Purple to run some pretty realistic simulations. So these games, these sixty four simulations will show us the best course ahead. Players will help us discover the Purple, play and learn about it. Once in Malik''s world, they must save Earth from destruction, nothing less. Stop this planetoids or change its trajectory.¡±


    Sophie did not appear to care.


    On the screen Marilyn used her blaster and shot a little space rat.


    "At the risk of sounding overly dramatic, Laurent, a disabled father may today chart the path which will save his own daughter''s life." She grabbed a laser pistol and shot dead a second little creature sniffing in the garbage behind the bar. "One more detail. I stole, thanks to Sophie''s powers, the portal of communication between these strange worlds. It is called The Nexus. Liam and his race were very upset when I took it. Today, it will help us.¡±


    The complexity of the situation wasn''t lost on anyone. Sixty-two players were getting ready in the room. Laurent was connected to the game in the finale room under the watchful eyes of Sophie, Georges, and Susie, his doctor.


    ¡°Pretend to be Sophie, save Earth by finding how to stop the planetoid,¡± she concluded.


    ***


    In the Electoral Center, Milly was broadcasting live. She was standing next to Georges. Above her shoulder, the viewers could see an image of Sophie studying. Between questions answered in the tutor, the girl was smiling and looking at the screens in the room. Laurent was in a different digital place and the Attractor was there to watch him play. The girl¡¯s energy, while invisible, warped mildly the space around her and played games with the air. Her skin seemed at times shiny, to shimmer, a bit like old 1960¡¯s television filters to help aging actresses hide crow¡¯s feet.


    Turning his attention to his screens and external monitors outside the Center, Georges looking at cameras of the Canyon said, "Something wrong is going on outside, very wrong."


    Milly¡¯s attention shifted, looking in shock at the screens of views from outside the Center. There was, in the distance, hundreds of miles away signs of a sandstorm lifting. But it wasn¡¯t coming from a Pole of the planet or the desert to the West, instead it rose from the deep scar of Mars, to their East. ¡°What, what is that?" asked a journalist disappointed by her own lack of vocabulary.


    Electoral¡¯s father shook his head, he mumbled something to himself and seemed annoyed, "I don''t know. Some new systems are coming online. Protections I have never seen before.¡±


    In the journalist¡¯s earpiece the CNN producers offered, ¡°He said ¡®Not again¡¯.¡± There was no time for Milly to act on the information.


    Georges added to Milly, this time for her to understand, ¡°She never ceases to amaze me. I did not even know this place had any of these snazzy defenses. Look at this, not sure what a Field Generator is, any guess.¡± The question was rhetorical. ¡°God isn¡¯t she fantastic." Code was scrolling on every screen. Sophie felt something in the distance, a disturbance. She looked at her father''s body in his cradle. "I don''t like this," said the programmer to an invisible Marilyn as the game was ready to start. "Things are moving too fast, now of all moments. This can¡¯t be a coincidence.¡± Milly wanted more information.


    Slowly, as if hundreds of nuclear bombs had silently blown up the Martian sand from the base, odd color clouds were lifting.


    ¡°Marilyn, what''s going on outside?" asked the journalist somewhat worried.


    "No need to worry, just sore losers broking our peace treaty. Life, old creatures who do not fancy our domination over their boring little red rock. These neighbors are coming, at least they think. Do not be worried one second, I paid dearly for my current level of power, these creatures are now inconsequential. Let them flex a cloud-muscle, I will glassify their snobbish asses if they try their stupid stunt again on us."


    Marilyn¡¯s demeanor on the screens and in the game was clear, this was of no concern to her. After all, she now could move and park the singularity from the Big Bang. Sophie seemed somewhat disturbed, then it passed. The broadcast in the game continued. Sophie touched her father''s head and kissed him luck. As she did, there was a surge of energy and the screens blinked with odd static.


    She secured Oscar the white stuffed dog by his side.


    In the distance, millions of tons of martian sand was stirring, lifting from the ground. The planet, as a whole was awakening. This was nothing ordinary, a world, sleeping for millions of years was awakening and the force was powerful. Yet, Marilyn smiled internally and smirking at Sophie in the room, she gave her a thumbs up as she prepared for the game.


    In silence, she typed on Georges¡¯ screen, ¡°Fuck them.¡± Then replaced it by a single word, ¡°Hard!!!¡± There was no need for three exclamation signs, she just was herself.


    Emilio from his office on Earth smiled, this would be fun.


    ***


    On every screen Marilyn Monroe, the space opera bounty hunter said, "Malik and Sophie have been very cooperative. They gave me information as to their first encounter and the world as they perceived it. One final caution to my players and the viewers: I am not scripting anything. I created a world as realistically as I could. There are multiple unknown variables, the most shocking is that Sophie¡¯s power defines that world. If she wants clowns to float, it will happen. I know little about Sophie''s powers. So don''t fault me if things get off script. You play her, try to save the world but the more you strain her powers, the less accurate this will all be. If you succeed in saving Earth, she might watch, learn and be inspired by your game.¡±


    The game began. Sixty-four simulations phased to purple.


    The Multiverse¡¯s most relevant two hours of television ever broadcasted began.


    ¡°Liam,¡± asked Sophie internally.


    ¡°Beautiful one, how may I help?¡±


    Sophie gave her companion an order in the silence of her mind. ¡°Really!?¡± She smiled and finally stood up interested in the game and what would happen ion the screen. Walking over to Milly, facing Georges¡¯ wall of screens, she had a devious smile.


    ¡°What is going on?¡± asked Milly.


    ¡°Lets get some truth,¡± spoke the Attractor.


    Marilyn wondered what the girl had in mind. She would soon find out.

 Chapter 61

    After a very lucrative commercial break, Emilio¡¯s simulation began. Marilyn stole minutes of airtime with panoramic space views of the galaxy panning down to an Electoral 2072 logo. Then the mood changed, techno music floated in and the computer fabricated the entire world made of small shining rocks, complex alien life and cities of quantum-sized particles leaving players in the weightlessness of the Purple.


    The Purple


    Emilio Wamarez Sanchez


    Polls showed half of the population figured the computer had known for a while the Sixth Attraction was coming and even probably was its cause somehow. To the rest, the entire doomsday situation was an elaborate hoax designed to boost ratings. Down on Earth, after paying generous royalties, many produced everything from limited edition t-shirts to coffee mugs. Marilyn kept on milking the situation for cash and attention. She obviously reveled in this record audience by making it so that no one with a pulse could afford to miss any twist of this complicated turn of dimensional events.


    The latest paradox was impossible to ignore. Electoral''s genius was engineering this enormous "chicken and the egg" situation. It was impossible to tell if the events of the Sixth Attraction resulted from the game, or if the game led to the Sixth Attraction. End of the world or not, the sponsors paid generously, and product placement was at its maximum.


    As the "Star Wars" music faded, in the darkness of the cosmos, the color turned to a purple hue. The viewers had arrived here; in a different dimension of the Multiverse. Two and a half billion people watched as Emilio felt his consciousness and a ghost-like body appear in the digital recreation of this neighboring dimension.


    On each screen, his simulation body was that of Sophie, floating with her t-shirt. The young girls was there, silent for a couple of seconds, then as if Malik and Marilyn were fighting for dominance of a black and white simulation, there was a glitch.


    From the command room of the Electoral Center, Sophie smiled in silence. The Attractor, under the watchful eye of Milly and Georges watched her image on screen, floating in the Purple replaced by the larger body of Emilio, the President. In all other 63 simulations, tiled on a large wall to the side of the room, her image stiff floated.


    Only the President was forced to play himself. The man, a talented player, saw and felt the difference. His smaller ghost hands were his fat fingers. His gift let him know the Attractor was playing games. He did not mind and with his proverbial gift, rolled with it. This place was peaceful ¡ª silent. Next to him was a pulsing, shining ball of orbiting rocks. This was the body of Malik, the creature he had just selected to guide him on this adventure.


    Sophie, from the Center pointed at the screen and spoke to Milly, ¡°let¡¯s see if this really works. Watch this.¡± Her hand glimmered. Energy surrounding her seemed to slip into the computer like gas is exchanged between stars.


    The beautiful image of Malik on the screen was replaced with the deeper voice and images of the real body of Liam, the Oldest. Sophie clapped her hands in delight. Her plan had worked. She had sent Liam into the system. Two misses were too much for a confused Electoral. The screen faded to black as she pondered if she needed to reset the simulation. Quickly a decision was made and the Purple and the Metil returned floating next to the human body of Emilio. The brown ball of crystals from the world of Liam would be part of the show.


    ¡°Talk to him,¡± whispered Sophie.


    The creature of the Lowest was billion of times more elaborate than the Purpelite. Colors swished like blood inside the brown ball made of transparent snowflakes. Emilio was awed by the magnificence of the living creature.


    ¡°Mister President,¡± whispered the Oldest.


    "Apologies for the confusion," Marilyn''s voice explained to all watching, "we seem to be facing some technical difficulties. All other simulations are working as expected, tune in to another as I fix this. In all of them, the players play Sophie, but here gentle Prez, its a bit different. The same way Malik infected Laurent¡¯s game in Chicago, Liam is now overriding my display mechanisms.¡± The Oldest body glowed. ¡°Let¡¯s roll with this proverbial punch for now.¡±


    Like ghosts, the ephemeral bodies of Emilio and Liam floated in the Purple waiting for the narration to end.


    ¡°This is an honor,¡± answered Emilio to the large rounded shape.


    ¡°The honor is mine,¡± he replied. ¡°I have been following your adventures down on Earth closely, rather well played sit. The computerized creature fails to comprehend the essence of the Attractor. She thinks she controls reality even the portion linked with these images. But Attraction is unique in that it rests outside of every know pathway. Science and even life does not bind it.¡±


    Emilio smiled. ¡°We both know the name our books give such beings.¡±


    ¡°No reason to go there, she watches. Such words would not be helpful.¡± Sophie knew the two were trying to avoid calling her a goddess.


    Marilyn took over and created a masterful video as she illustrated what came next, Her voice in the distance narrated, "The Metils live in a much different dimension. Here laws of physics are completely different. There is no gravity, and instead, multiple electro-weak forces bind these sub-particles. This whole world, this dimension, actually has no physical representation when compared to Earth, but somehow the mind of Malik and Sophie have forced the world into this strange kaleidoscope of colors.¡±


    "Aside from a handful of physicists or mathematicians on Earth, I can''t expect anyone to understand what is going on. But the time for simplification has long passed. Explained differently, only our world, the layer of the Multiverse called The Cold, has a physical reality. Rocks exist in our world because particles exist. In all other layers of the Multiverse, energy never takes any real physical form. Liam, your own body is a construction of the Attractor. Since Malik''s world is immaterial, it''s nothing we can draw or visualize. Sophie''s unique power as the Attractor allows for this representation to be drawn. She warps things around her. That is once again possible thanks to her gift. As you can imagine, no spoken language exists in these worlds. I am guilty of the same subterfuge. When I drew Liam as a tall, handsome Indian man in Laurent''s mind, I gave a reality to something without one."


    Images began to fill the Purple. "These Metils, even though wholly composed of simple energy, are much smaller than our smallest known sub-atomic particle. On Earth, we recently uncovered the Zex, a piece within the particle called the Quark designed to give momentum to light as we rip apart the photon." To the left of Emilio, in the distance appeared a giant and deadly rift. This sight, the size of Niagara Falls, opened in the colored void and began to gush out energy. It was a rupture in the fabric of this world. Through the irregular-shaped black plate, planetoids poured into this world like cannonballs being shot by a battleship.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "Turns out our light drives on Earth, the one fueling the Airbus A2070 have an undesirable side effect. As we tear open light to push forward a small plate, the other parts of the Zexs, a rock we would call an anti-Zex makes its way into the Purple here. This massive rip is created by the tip of a laser beam bouncing off a mirror back in our dimension is opening a vortex and leaving the trail of destruction. Our desire for technological advancement has undesired causes and makes us monsters to those who inhabit this world. We are, said plainly, destroying most of the Purple."


    Emilio could not believe what he was seeing. The portal wasn''t a door to a different world; it was an avalanche of icebergs thrown into this space. He knew mankind was inconsiderate, but this was beyond imagination. Marilyn''s narration continued, "With the manufacture of more light drives every day, the Purple pays the price by being pulverized by its careless neighbor, us." Marilyn then shifted the camera angle away from Oldest and showed from a distance a lighter purple space.


    Marilyn showed large boulders enter and rocket onto the cities around. As the Zexs rolled, they moved like meteoroids and killed millions. She showed with extreme graphic detail the consequences of the destruction. "As of this day, about twelve percent of this world has been destroyed. Thankfully, the largest city has, so far, survived. Had the orbital lasers around Mars worked as originally planned on the flight of the final contestants, the capital would have fallen. By delaying the firing by as little as an hour, I helped avoid this catastrophe."


    There it was. Marilyn had just admitted knowing about the Purple and being responsible for what most people figured was a terrorist attack on Sophie¡¯s inbound trip to the red planet.


    Images of the city vanished, replaced by Malik, as he stood guard next to the gate. She was replaying and narrated the boy''s adventure. "He was cast aside. The young boy was given the most dangerous job imaginable. Malik had to warn the capital if one of the Zexs entering this world appeared at an angled to allow a part directly to the capital. This was a suicide mission, of course as no place in this area of space is safe. There were those who hoped he would be crushed in the process.¡±


    "The boy was mesmerized by Sophie and was drawn to our world. After passing this rupture he entered Sophie''s mind to return briefly with her to the Purple. As part of this strange initial contact, Malik was wounded by the sheer force Sophie''s spoken word. As the Attractor travels, her power is absolute; you as a player must be very careful. She is immaterial and has force.¡±


    "The boy barely made it home, had to escape the capital and dismantling and returned through a second portal to hide in Laurent''s mind. A month later in this world¡¯s timeline, Sophie returned to this world with Liam in tow. This time, an entire army from the Purple tried unsuccessfully to stop her. Sophie even saw part of the capital.¡± The creature illustrated with perfection what Sophie had seen and done.


    "One final piece of information: President Emilio has selected to enter the Purple with Malik at his side but Sophie thinks otherwise. I think she keeps the boy close to her father and his game. You and Liam, on the other hand, should be immaterial and move as visible or invisible spirits. Good luck, Mr. President, as you play. I am still unclear as to how points will be awarded.¡±


    Then there was finally silence ¡ª the game could start.


    ***


    Emilio floated alone in the Purple. On his side, Liam pulsed. The President was puzzled by the computer''s unusual politeness; in four years, she''d never referred to him as the President or even simply Prez. For some reason, Marilyn cared about today''s performance more than usual.


    "Liam, are you okay?" asked Emilio in the Purple.


    ¡°Yes Mister President,¡± replied the brown ball.


    ¡°I am not your President.¡±


    ¡°My symbiotic relationship with a terrain makes you my President, sir.¡±


    ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    Sophie smiled as she watched this connection from the Center. She had forgotten Liam''s beauty in his original form. There were two creatures on the screen. Emilio''s mind in the game began to strain, viewers saw him wince as if hit by a sudden headache. Ordinarily, images would flood his consciousness at the speed of light, but instead, here in the Purple his mind was at a loss. He had no clue what to expect, and like entering a dark cavern, his mind almost went blank - it squeezed and zoomed in long lines.


    As the computer ran quintillions of software simulations, images began to flood into Emilio''s overactive mind. His gift finally kicked in, but because of the strange direct mental connection with the game, the visions as they poured in his single mind, were also broadcasted live. There was a kaleidoscope of images to those watching like a giant slide down a mountain. People saw a core dump of images, a flood. These were about ten scenarios, all overlapping in which Emilio spoke to Liam. Each time, the question changed and so did the creature¡¯s reaction back to him. His mind was hurtful to watch.


    But quickly, as always images ended and Emilio was once again ready to speak to Liam in an eleventh simulation. The Oldest who had witnessed the strange kaleidoscope of images simply interjected, "Your mind can see alternate futures. I did not know you are the Guesser and in the Cold." The brown crystal creature blinked rotated. "Sophie?" it spoke in the void created by the computer.


    The situation was utterly confusing to everyone.


    "What did you call me?" asked the President.


    "The Attractor desires full disclosure of all information. I see no reason to ignore her wishes even if she is absent and we are in this strange setting." Back in the Center, Sophie was watching her new friend. She smiled, he was right. She had already become very fond of him. "Sir, President, you are what is called a Guesser. It is a well-documented, yet rare state of mind in the Multiverse. In every dimension, there are a handful of individuals born with a mind having a slightly different connection to the timeline of the Multiverse. You see the bias, a higher time set."


    ¡°Call me Emilio,¡± he said immediately wishing he could take it back.


    ¡°Mister President,¡± said Liam, ¡°Emilio, time appears linear to most. That is common to creatures of the Lower and all other worlds. The same way a song cannot be heard in its full entirety but only a single note can exist, that does not mean the song as a whole does not exist. Our minds hear only one note but yours can reconstruct a couple more. You occupy a bit more than four usual dimensions as your scientists define it.¡°


    "Time works the same way. In the typical mind''s construct, we view things and people as they exist in one time only: the present. Guessers see today and reconstruct part of the future. In your world, they would be called seers or fortune tellers. You alone see a mirror placed at your side by the Multiverse." Emilio was at a loss for words. "Since my world has few living creatures, no Guesser has ever been born there. But Guessers are one of the many gifts and mysteries our Multiverse creates in very infrequent times. They are more frequent than the Attraction but not much. No two Guessers have ever existed at the same time. When he or she dies, another is born in another world. We have documented only part of the Multiverse, so we commonly lose sight of the Guesser. I have many theories as to why they appear, just theories. Your presence here at this time, next to the Attractor is a very positive turn of events. I am reassured."


    Emilio felt uncomfortable with Liam''s very public explanation of his inner-workings. He now knew Marilyn could see his visions. He preferred to change the topic.


    "Liam," he whispered.


    "Yes?¡±


    "We must play. Where is the city, our destination for this game?"


    "Over your left shoulder, I believe," offered Liam. "The deeper and more energetic purple zone. You see it as a lighter shade of purple, almost a pink.¡±


    The game was to Emilio normally rather simple. He saw a cascade of images, links to the future, and walked the best path. At this point, he knew the duo was supposed to go to the city, find the people in charge of creating the planetoid ready to destroy earth and scare them into changing their plans. The only question was one of causality. As was always the case with altering possible outcomes, there was the question of being the cause of the desired consequence. Emilio knew if he disturbed the work and postponed the release of the deadly missile maybe he would, in fact, be the reason why the missile destroys the earth. That was how time worked.


    His job was to prevent the creation of the planetoid, not postpone it or worse be the cause of its untimely release.


    He looked in the direction of the city.


    ***


    Then his mind opened.


    Sophie, in the Center was finally at full attention standing, smiling ear to ear and holding the plush toy.

 Chapter 62

    Emilio, flanked with Liam was floating in the ¡°false¡± Purple ¡ª he felt a new connection to the Artificial Intelligence, and like a sailboat of old, a digital wind blew through his mind. He also felt Liam at his side.


    ¡°Please describe your feelings,¡± asked Sophie¡¯s mentor.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± his Emilio intimidated for the first time in quite some time.


    ¡°My knowledge on Guessers is rather extensive. Over the eons, we were able to fully document their gifts, unlike those of Attractors.¡± Emilio did not like the public display of his personal unique tool. Billions were watching. ¡°Have you ever played with the mind of others?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± Sophie back in the Center was enjoying the lesson.


    Her mentor explained, ¡°You operate in a slightly higher dimensional field. You are a bent piece of paper when everyone is paper to steal the digital creature¡¯s analogy. At the moment to simply get information on paths after a point, but all Guessers can read minds once they understand how the brain stores information.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°A mind does not store, like a recording the full experience. If finds the closest match and stores the difference. Imagine driving down the same road. The same sight is seen so the brain cannot store it anew each day. It replays to itself a past recording and compares it. Imagine a sign is different one day on the side of the road. Your mind will highlight the difference as it cannot be read in the mind. Your mind can see these alternate writings. Guessers touch a person and can read their past.¡±


    The President wondered, could this be true. Through the neuro-patch, this metal electrode reading his normal and higher brain waves, his mind began to layer things, but instead of watching powerless alternative futures, his gift pushed his mind to flow into the machine, he was connected to Marilyn and wondered if he could read her mind. Liam, as a driver was ready and guiding him in to a place of his choosing.


    Emilio''s mind floated in electrical energy for the blink of a heartbeat just long enough for visions to form. Marilyn was set to broadcast live his images, so the indiscretion would be public; at least until she was able to take control. Based upon Sophie and Malik¡¯s previous intrusion, maybe the exploration would be shown to Sophie.


    As a sponge weighted by too much water, his mind began to drip. Images flooded from somewhere. Liam had called him a Guesser, a Seer, and he was about to see. He did not know the origin or where he was but the images refused to slow or stop, they played in a cascade, like a kaleidoscope of colors instead of this Purple world. Few but Liam and a handful of cosmologists could understand the magnitude of what the plateau served next.


    In the space around them, like the sound of whales in the sea, they could hear the murmur of strange alien languages. The whispers of intelligible words got stronger and more defined as a giant white highway made of stars appeared. The structure was billions of miles wide. It looked like a network of neurons and their dendrites of the brain of a larger creature. This also was like watching from orbit city lights infect a coastline with light.


    "The Nexus," whispered Liam. His words echoed down to every human watching including Sophie. At the heart of the structure was a point brighter than others, ¡°The Dot, my Dot¡± added the Oldest with a touch of nostalgia. If the Nexus was a spider web, the Dot was its center.


    The crystal became brighter.


    As sound traveled along the light-forged highways of the structure, the fragile ropes supporting it seemed to rock in the wind. The central node, the point from which the spiderweb was tied, began to vibrate sending shivers up the lines anchoring it to the Underworld. Across the entire Multiverse, all chatter ceased, and chimes began to ring. Around the entire structure, pink waves flooded the structure, they were pouring in from one point. ¡°The Rho waves, the computer knows how to use them.¡± In the vision, some words were able to resonate; they were translated by Liam.


    Then there was a loud bang, a disconnection, rupture. The light structure collapsed, and the pink energy fought away blue energy inside the Nexus. ¡°She stole it.¡± Liam was sad, the recklessness was total.


    "Is there pain?" asked Emilio to the brown crystalline creature.


    "Yes," it replied shamefully. There was now silence as everything went dark between the points of light. Liam was worried. Could he be the source of discontent of the Multiverse. ¡°Pathetic.¡±


    The images that came next were even stranger. Two shapes were floating below the belly of the Multiverse. In the distance, Liam and a spark of yellow light. Then brown crystals of Liam''s home world began to appear around them, its origin impossible to perceive. "This is my world," said Liam, "and this is me." The creature wasn¡¯t happy. Only Sophie recognized the beauty of the world where she had met her companion. Liam, the President were watching unfold the greatest rape ever committed, the theft of the Dot from the Lower. Both were ghosts, immaterial and powerless.


    In the vision. Liam was standing next to the large confinement device in which hummed the Dot.


    "What are we,¡± he struggled to find the just noun, ¡°witnessing?" asked the President. He knew only the Oldest could answer.


    "Since my pairing with the Attractor, she has been clear; only full disclosure and truth, it is her modus operandi. I see no reason to ignore her wish and not answer truthfully." From the command room of the Electoral Center, Sophie, watching the strange game, nodded in agreement. She liked Liam; his wisdom was comforting. "These images, this is a very nice illustration, generated by this computer intelligence, of the events leading up to her theft of the Dot from the Lower, my world."Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    The elaborate cathedral of crystals holding the central singularity was opened and then unhooked from where it stood. Like parts of the Grand Canyon crumbling from a detonation deep below the ground, walls crumbled. The scale of the destruction was planetary, the Dot and its confinement was not meant to be disturbed.


    "After the rupture of the Nexus, which we just saw, the creature called Marilyn somehow poured Sophie''s energy into the channels. Ignorant that anyone could steal the Dot, or more precisely wrestle away its primary control, I feared the energy would damage my world. So I ordered the Dot moved to safety away from this...¡± on cue large structures crumbled. By will alone of the god-like creature, Liam a pulsing ball of energy sent shockwaves destroying the confinement revealing a single point of light. Animated by the will of the creature moving with it, began to translate to a distant part of this beautiful world. As it did, the pair saw the fragile network of ropes between the Dot and other regions of the Multiverse snap. "These images are, I believe, propaganda, not prophecy, Seer."


    "Propaganda?"


    "Visions created by your unique mind would not be slightly off. I alone know my birthmark is missing from the image. It never was disclosed in the medical profile she stole. This is playback from her memories, not prophecy."


    ¡°Her dreams?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± Before Liam or Emilio could continue, the images resumed. Marilyn disagreed with Liam''s assessment, but she stayed silent. Like having a genuine functioning Ouija board, Emilio''s gift leeched into the computer''s systems to draw out this information. Marilyn wondered for a moment if she should sever the connection and push Emilio out of the game, but she was curious. She knew these images were not real, but rather creations of the President''s strange mind, it had a purpose ¡ª Sophie¡¯s purpose. The Attractor wanted this and she saw no reason to end it.


    What came next would need explanation to even expert Cosmologists back on Earth. Emilio''s mind seized upon one of the deepest secrets stored in the computer''s memory. There was energy, color. Quickly, images passed outer regions of galaxies to a deeper, darker region to the center of millions of galaxies; the place in time and space where the Big Bang should have taken place. At the physical heart of our dimension. Floated a point of energy, pure, the rare matter given zero movement.


    In the most remote part of space floated a point gently pulsing with light like a gem, it was the perfect symmetrical singularity. Oddly, it seemed similar in most ways to the Dot located down in the Lower. As everything left this central region of the Cosmos to cool in the Cold, the gem awaited.


    Then, in the distance, between the rushing galactic matter, two points of light, like yellow fireflies, approached. These were not creatures of light or even focal pieces of glass. Instead, the small points were some types of holes, matter, so strong they bent space around them. The gravity of the pair of holes, like magnets on Earth began to pull onto the singularity. At first, it refused to move. It held anchored in space by invisible links located in the Lowest. Liam, the Oldest still had control of his portion of the singularity. I laid deep in caves.


    "Incredible," said Liam, in awe.


    "What is it?" questioned the President.


    "Your singularity. It appears to be as deep as ours. When your world was created, energy poured in and remains at this point. A vestige to the birth of your world. But something is using these two small points, those black stars, to move the singularity without touching it." The two holes continued pushing against the singularity. There was a voice, Liam himself from deep within his world of the Lowest. He told the others to open the containment vault down in the Lower. As the anchor point was released, the gem in the Cold moved on both worlds under the influence of the black holes, releasing the singularity.


    There was ripple.


    As the mass down in the Lower moved, the singularity began to tilt closer to theholes as a boat tilting under the force of waves. Around, there was pain. Liam and Emilio knew of nothing in the Cold powerful enough to do this.


    "This singularity, located in your world, is tied to many others, including mine in the Lowest. What you see here is an effort to use brute force to push a singularity using gravity, but since it was tied below, via layers of the Multiverse, it could not move. Once I released it on my end, in a desperate efforts to protect it, both ends moved violently. Imagine a bow where both ends of the bowstring are cut simultaneously. Someone is using massive black holes like toys. Nothing is this powerful. No computer intelligence can do this, no energy in the Multiverse operates at this scale. What we are seeing is impossible."


    "This happened," confirmed the President. "I don''t know why I know, but I do. This is the past."


    "Nothing in your world can move a black hole, much less two. I trust you, Mr. President. Our Dot was wrestled away, so this is possible, insofar as anything is possible. The pain inflicted to the Multiverse must be beyond imagination. What carelessness. This scar alone would explain the Sixth Attraction."


    Marilyn somehow was now powerful beyond imagination. This made no sense; the digital creature was decades old. The computer moved black holes in the Multiverse like a chess player moves a pawn on a board. The singularity began to move as if escorted by the two large dark masses. Their pull accelerated and urgently gave the singularity a velocity in the direction of a point in space.


    "Marilyn are you doing this?¡± asked Emilio.


    There was silence. Liam added, "She just explained minutes alone she no longer feared the inhabitants of Mars, which she did not long ago. The growth of power is exponential. Why would any creature capable of such power even care about humans? She orchestrates this game, insists on it and takes care of her Center. Nothing makes sense if this is true."


    As they spoke, the singularity was thrown half was across the universe. As it passed some unfortunate stars, it destroyed them, leaving puffs of smoke in its trail. Then it began to slow down. Moments before it entered the Milky Way, the two heavy black holes parted ways like brooms before a curling rock about to arrive at its destination. This object wasn''t big; it was now small. The crystalline body, a star or a gem came to rest after entering humanity''s solar system. It finally stopped in the vicinity of Saturn. Then, the singularity, as if falling slowly under forces of gravity, began a descent to the Sun. Halfway into the fall, small metal drones sent from Mars converged around the singularity and began to spin. They locked the singularity at a fixed point in space.


    Marilyn held the Dot.


    Emilio heard Liam say softly, "This is madness. The sheer presence of such a gravity pit in this system is reckless. If the computer drops it, all life will end."


    "Why are were here, why is she showing us these images? Shouldn''t we be in the Purple, doing something else entirely?" asked Emilio.


    ¡°Sophie,¡± offered Liam.


    ¡°Enough snooping,¡± Marilyn spoke as the Purple color returned and the vision ended. "That is the beauty of what I call unbound initial conditions. I programmed you, dear President, to uncover useful information within the Purple. You snooped around my memory banks, I can''t be upset if you did just that. Elegant of you."


    ¡°You are reckless,¡± snapped Liam at the digital goddess.


    ¡°No. You were clueless,¡± she retorted back. They were in the Purple, floating once more. ¡°A child.¡±


    There was a long commercial pause.

 Chapter 63

    ¡°That was strange,¡± said Emilio to himself back in the Purple.


    ¡°Agreed,¡± replied the voice of the Artificial Intelligence instead of Liam.


    In Emilio¡¯s ear, Marilyn whispered, "I have regained full control of my systems. The old guy has left. You can start the game in the body of Sophie, like everyone else. The Metil was your original choice to play the game, I just put him back next to you, Liam is also here floating next to you but the real one returned with Sophie in the Center. She needed to teach you how to mess around in my memory. I am not sure how that advances things.¡± The people watching the game saw all three, Sophie, Liam and Malik float in the Purple. Emilio knew he was late in terms of the game and scoring points. The time allowed was half over; he felt it. His competitive instinct kicked in, even though he could afford to lose every round until the finale and still qualify.


    The President tried to orient himself, he was mentally exhausted. Malik, animated by the computer helped, "I can stream to the city if you want, but I can''t take you two with me. Is this you Liam?"


    ¡°Yes young purpeliete.¡±


    Emilio focused, "No problem, you go. We will to follow.¡± His voice was that of the young girl. In the Center, Sophie had now lost interest and was speaking internally with the real Liam.


    Part of the boy''s outer seventh layer stopped spinning. A hundred shiny rocks activated and in a flash, Malik shrunk to nothing. Emilio closed his eyes and wished he (Sophie) and Liam could simply follow the boy, and the Multiverse''s kindness made it happen. Sophie could now move throughout the Multiverse at will. Playing as the girl was a bit like playing an omniscient being. Emilio felt Sophie¡¯s power also applied to the real world where she somehow could jump from Mars to Earth if she desired. This was crazy.


    In the blink of an eye, the game trio found itself in the middle of the colorful city. On the television, the images were beautiful. There were trillions of spinning rocks everywhere against a deeper purple background. Emilio did not know what was more impressive, the sight of this alien world or witnessing the power of the computer operating it. Electoral was now powerful beyond imagination. Emilio had little doubt she had, for the game, recreated every living creature from this world with an eerie level of precision.


    "This is insanity," he let slip as the girl. No one would fault him. For the viewers on Earth, the camera angles kept moving to capture the breadth of the view. In this world without gravity, there was no sense of direction. In the distance mountains of light shone. "You think they see us?" asked Sophie. Little rock creatures, like Malik, ran away in all directions while others nervously converged to them. They all looked like Malik but a bit smaller. "Are you fat?" she queried. Emilio knew Sophie would speak her mind, "On the porch of my dad''s dream house, you were in perfect shape." Emilio was back in character.


    "I have seven layers. That is rare. This one,¡± the camera pointed to one other creature standing by, ¡°has seven layers." Emilio looked around and saw the larger Metil. "The pure ones have only five layers." The Metils around the group stopped advancing. They formed a sphere around the group.


    "Pure?" asked the girl.


    "Yes. Most Metils have six layers. At five, you are considered exceptional, and you can rule. Using seven layers is considered a waste and you are inferior. This makes us outcasts in our society."


    "Size, really? Your people discriminate on size? I guess that''s one way of doing it. In my world, we discriminate on everything except size. Adults love to hate each other. Our favorite is skin color." Emilio enjoyed playing the girl. Sophie liked to give her position on things. "The one stupid problem I hate the most on Earth is the invisible lines on the ground."


    "Lines?"


    "Yes. Adults made up invisible lines they say exist on the ground, they are called borders. Born on one side of the invisible line you get a red passport and on the other you get a black one. There are no country lines except in books. I spent hours on my tutor learning about the invisible lines. Adults even go to war over where these imaginary lines. Liam, what''s the stupidest discrimination in your world?"


    "The wall hanging, I guess." There was a chuckle from both children. He explained, "We are few, so we rarely take issue, but some of us have come in existence attached to a wall, while others are spheres which rested on the floor. The wall-hangers figured they are superior.¡±


    "Are you a wall-hanger?"


    "No, yet I outlasted every one of them. Discrimination rarely serves logic or reason."


    Back in the Center, Sophie looked up at this exchange, she was watching the screen and asked the real Liam in her head, ¡°Is that true?¡±


    Shamefully the voice offered, ¡°Yes. The computer is truly powerful. How can she know such things.¡±


    Back in the game the creatures from the Metil world were now in tight formation around them. A voice rang out; it was forceful and arrogant. "Halt!" The thousands forming the shell stopped at a distance reordered themselves in a maneuver vaguely reminiscent of military formations. The new creatures who had arrived appeared covered in armor made of darker rocks. Some had rudimentary shields. This complex world was somewhat cute, it reminded Sophie of the Christmas house decorations or a Mardi Gras parade.


    "Malik, you have returned. We were told to give you messages. We blame you for causing an inter dimensional war. What are those monsters next to you? You are under arrest. You must pay for your crimes."


    "They are my friends from the other world beyond the rifts. They wish you no harm. I caution, do not upset her, she is the one called Sophie.¡± He gestured at her. ¡°She has the power to destroy all of you."


    "We know. It has already killed one of us, we do not fear death. This time we came prepared to fight it. We have weapons. Surrender or we will shoot!" The simulation wasn¡¯t kind to the Metil race.


    "Adopted sister," began Malik, "they only understand pain." The choice of word shocked those present. How could the Malik call this alien creature sister?


    "Attractor,¡± added Liam, ¡°this race is primal and belligerent. No amount of negotiation or reason will get compliance. We all wonder how such brainless creatures ever developed advanced technology without destroying themselves with it. As the boy said, they respect one thing ¡ª force." Liam was obviously not a fan of the Metils. His tone was stern and commanding as if he stood ready to kill.


    Back in the Center, the real Liam added, ¡°I would not have said this.¡±


    ¡°Marilyn is doing her best, she is not great with people. Remember how she welcomed us in this place.¡±


    The simulation of the President continued. "Who spoke?" asked the Metil commander. Sophie, the digital one, was floating in front of the others. At least it had courage. Emilio needed to play the girl. He could use the power of the Attractor and vaporize the creature, but he knew Sophie to be much different. She would always prefer the peaceful route.


    "There is no need for violence," he began as Sophie, "we are here for a purpose. You have begun to take action against my world. Specifically, your tinkering with our Sun. Bring me to the creature in charge of that action."


    A beam of light shot out and hit Malik. It made every rock forming the boy resonate. The weapon did not kill, but he was stunned to a whisper. Emilio wondered how Sophie would react. Before he settled on a best course of action, Liam spoke.


    "Metils, I was right to initiate war," snapped the Oldest.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°I would never say that?¡± outraged the real Liam inside Sophie¡¯s head. The Attractor liked to watch his reaction.


    ¡°It¡¯s a game,¡± she spoke in her internal voice to calm him.


    The game once again continued. "I give you one second to wake him up. Then I will get mad." Emilio''s mind began to play alternative scenarios. In each, the boy died in the cross-fire. He knew the creatures were an instant away from raining destruction on this area of the Purple. His mind''s images showed only two ways to save all three of them: either send a pulse destroying hundreds of Metils in the process or surrender for the moment. "Okay, let''s not shoot. We just need to talk."


    "We must arrest you."


    "I understand our technology is creating destruction here and in return, you plan to destroy us." He was diffusing.


    There was a long moment of hesitation before a different creature replied from the back of the formation. It rolled in and advanced, "We wish your world no harm." The voice was softer than that of the previous speaker. This was no military officer. "We are giving you a gift. We are increasing the habitable size of your world. Surely that is a desired outcome."


    "Not really." Liam continued, "What you plan to create is a catastrophic event which will destroy all life in one part of the Cold."


    "Then we have achieved our goal." Roared the military creature. "If lives of those creating the Zexs ends, so will the destruction in our world!"


    Emilio was losing patience. "The rifts are caused by our latest technology. Now that we know about your world and the undesirable effects, we can stop using it. If we promise to stop, would that be enough?"


    The question took the military man by surprise.


    "Sophie, you speak peace to a creature without an understanding of this concept," said Liam softly. Back in the Center, the real Liam once more objected in silence.


    They were at a standoff.


    "This is a decision for the Council. Come with me," said the kinder Metil.


    "Wake Malik first, and we will follow you."


    The creature advanced and touched Malik and energy flowed. "My name is Fuson. I am a scientist. I work with Professor Zuriak, the one who discovered your world." With a burst of light, Malik returned to life.


    "What happened?" asked the boy. He received no answer. Sophie and Fuson were speaking.


    "Let''s talk as we follow the grumpy one to his council," joked Sophie.


    The boy could understand what had transpired; he knew the scientist. The sphere made of hundreds of creatures opened, and the group made its way deeper into the city. The Council building was wondrous. Rivers of rocks spun in unison, accompanied by a ballet of color. Doors were not opened apertures, instead, they were lower density rock walls. The Metils could easily push their own pieces through these openings like two forks meshed past each other.


    Emilio saw little sparks of color blink here and there in the general population. These were blue sparks, but the situation at hand was already overwhelming. They finally arrived in the large central chamber. Emilio saw structures which reminded him of statues. There were few words to describe the palace. These were aliens, and no one could forget it.


    "Speak," said a voice from high above.


    "We are sorry for the rifts, but now you plan to destroy my home."


    "That is untrue."


    "If the Council may?" said Fuson politely.


    "Speak."


    "I fear the creature from the cold may be right. The energy levels of our plan far exceed our calculation capacity. The force they call gravity can far outweigh the other binding forces. I fear what we plan to do will destroy their world."


    "Can it still be stopped?" asked the voice of the Council.


    "I fear not," answered Fuson.


    "What do you mean?"


    "The process of gathering the energy as a ball has already passed a critical mass. If we stop, the mass ejected will only be smaller, and may be sent in a different direction of space, we do not control where it goes, it would be quite fortuitous if it crossed the trajectory of your world."


    "That would be better, no? It would not impact with Earth."


    "We have not planned contact with your Earth; our power is too rudimentary to achieve this end."


    "What does this mean Liam?" asked Sophie.


    The Oldest spoke. "In theory, a new planetoid shot from your Sun missing Earth by more than an arc degree would allow life to survive on your home world. The distance, below a limit, will still be deadly since the crust of your planet will move considerably if the planetoid is too close. He says they are forcing the Sun to eject a ball, but they can''t control where it will go."


    "Can we calculate where it will go?"


    "No." The answer from Fuson was categorical. "We never planned for the new mass to hit your planet. We cannot control the process so fully. In fact, we figured our gift was sure to miss your planet. The chances of a collision are very small. A risk we were willing to take. The orbit of your planet is large, very large. Maybe the ball will even settle closer to the Sun like two of the other spheres.


    The voices of the Council snapped, "Fuson, you promised us there would be contact. You lied. You will pay for this deception." Sophie was fed up with the belligerence. The creatures were yelling at the only reasonable Metil in sight. Emilio was itching to use his power. He showed, as would Sophie, patience. To score points, he needed to play Sophie accurately. In addition to collecting points, he was there to help the young girl collect information she could use.


    Fuson, in a very docile voice added, "We did not wish to burden this Council with details. The objective requested was not destruction but to bequeath new habitable space. The rigid crust of the world they inhabit is very thin and fragile. Any arrival of a body on the similar orbit would slowly destroy most of their world and technology." It then found the courage to add, "I am no monster."


    As Emilio was listening to the conversation, his mind began to see potential futures. The visions began to flash, he saw about twenty, but this time, three were dark. He had seen a dark vision a couple of days ago. Now the problem was back. In each of the remaining seventeen visions, he saw the creatures from the Purple take different courses of action and stop their machine at different times, yet each time he felt the planetoid would impact the Earth. Destiny, or the Multiverse was clear, Earth had the go.


    The game, powered by Electoral began to play one after the other the visions of the President to the audience back at home and to Sophie. It was clear; this wasn''t about timing. The cause to consequences logic was in play, Sophie had power yet the Multiverse was working to snuff it out.


    Liam, from high on his age pedestal said without much surprise in his voice. "Your visions, dear President are a blessing; they show a paradox."


    "What do you mean?" asked Emilio.


    "I recognize your voice, you are the Oldest?" asked one Metil. The creature was the Ambassador. These creatures immediately recognized the name. The word Oldest inspired fear. It came from the very elaborate creature. They made a gesture, visible only to Malik, to be silent. The Metils all respected strength, the Oldest was the living embodiment of power. At the core of the rock creatures was a respect of authority. The Oldest was a myth here, a creature of legend.


    Emilio continued, "Why are a couple of my visions dark?" asked Emilio.


    "The Multiverse now itches and bends for a specific consequence to occur; one it needs but cannot produce. It needs the planetoid to hit the Earth. I fear any interference will be futile, with one exception."


    "What exception? I don''t understand."


    "Sophie is the Attractor. She alone can deviate the plans set in motion by the Multiverse. That is part of her gift; she stands outside of cause and consequence."


    "Does that have anything to do with the dark visions, I have been seeing some lately.¡± Emilio was now playing himself again and the computer was indulging him.


    "Precisely. As we converge to the Sixth Attraction, options are narrowing. Events open to you and others are closing. The dark paths are roads we no longer can travel. Unless I am mistaken, the closer to the Attraction, the number of paths you see will become fewer and fewer. On the eve, one will remain."


    "I apologize, but I simply don''t understand what you''re saying," said Emilio, confused.


    "I deeply apologize," said Liam, "this is very complex. As time runs out and we get closer to the Attraction, you have correspondingly few chances, fewer paths, to draw the ace. To get the outcome it wants, instead of taking time, it now will bend probabilities. The world will change, you will change, and only the paths where you shuffle the cards in one of fifty ways will now be future roads open to you. So begins a phase where the Multiverse withdraws its bountiful ways. You lose your capacity to choose, to draw any card you want.You alone see this restriction in choice. This is impossible to see except through the gift of a Guesser. That is why you are here; Marilyn wanted you to see this, and in turn, the real Sophie watching from home must understand."


    The situation was surreal. President Sanchez was in a virtual reality game, playing from his office in Berlin and had the impression of floating in a different dimension called the Purple. He was seeing images and was discussing his gift with an alien.


    The President finally said, "Liam, if I understand what you are saying, and I know I only partially do, what you suggest is very scary."


    "The Attractor. I think she alone is not bound by the paradox. I think Sophie, watching this from the Center, may have seen images instead of black areas. It makes no sense you see these dark paths if you are the Attractor; but again, this is complex." Emilio agreed. He was deep into a situation higher than his pay grade, and he was earth''s President. He continued to ignore his surroundings.


    "Liam, are you suggesting at some point in time, the Attractor is the only thing capable of helping?"


    "That is precisely what I am saying."


    ¡°What is happening?¡±


    "I wish I knew. Locked in my world, I never observed first hand the Attraction."


    Before Emilio could resume the simulation and turn his attention back to the Council, the game ended.


    The President opens his eyes, in the long chair in his Berlin office. He was covered head to toe in sweat as if he had just completed a marathon. The clock said he had been playing for well over an hour. Kai, his assistant, walked in with a towel and a tumbler of scotch.


    Emilio tried to stand up and fainted from exhaustion.

 Chapter 64

    Electoral played an endlessly long commercial break. Most people expected Emilio''s game to resume after the pause, but the artificial intelligence had different plans. Marilyn had correctly surmised that Sophie''s short attention span back in the Center couldn''t take much more; she was correct.


    Sophie was extremely detached from these "adult things," as she called them. She''d watched for a while and was amused by the quality of Purple''s reproduction created by the machine, but the moment the long-winded explanations for Emilio''s visions began, she totally zoned out. Her father was now playing, and she preferred to speak with the doctor and Georges than watch Marilyn''s reproduction of the "truth."


    "How is he?" she asked the Doctor the moment he entered the game.


    "All things considered, rather good. The Rho wave sensors are proving very helpful," answered Susie. "I think they want you to watch," she pointed at the screens. Sophie obviously did not care. On each screen was the face of Marilyn trying her best to get Sophie''s attention. "She wants..."


    "I don''t care." The girl was stubborn. "She wants to help, but I never asked for anything. This is just a game. When I sued to get my father back, the same thing happened. So many people wanted to help. In the end, nothing helped. Adults complicate things. Electoral isn''t even real." The doctor just smiled. In the world of a young woman, the girl made perfect sense.


    The journalist from a distance had to say something, "What about the world?"


    "What about it?"


    "It will end if you don''t help; that seems pretty clear." Sophie chuckled. There was no answer; she just looked at her dad. She weighed the benefits of explaining her position, but on the screens, the President was floating in some darkness. This was probably all the computer and the networks could broadcast. The strange story, while interesting, was a diversion her from her actual goal. She would help her father and savor their last moments if it came to that. The rest could go to Hell.


    "Is he playing?" she finally asked Marilyn.


    "Yes," answered the computer.


    "Is Malik or Liam in there with him?"


    "No," offered Marilyn.


    "Good, so he''s alone?"


    "No. He is playing you and he brought himself along as a character. Very confusing. You want to jump in? I am playing your role for now."


    On the screens Sophie saw herself floating in the Purple holding hands with her father. Sophie looked at the doctor and asked, "Is he doing well? Can you tell if he is happy? Excited?"


    "Those wave detectors are great. Yes, his activity is strong and positive. He is happy."


    Sophie had her answer, she turned to Marilyn and simply said, "No need, you''re doing a great job. Can I watch?"


    The question surprised Marilyn. ¡°Of course,¡± she said.


    Laurent''s simulation would play around the world after Emilio''s simulation. Marilyn wasn''t one to wait a millisecond before complying with a request from the Attractor. Laurent''s simulation began on the screens of the Center.


    The Purple


    Electoral Round 27


    Laurent Lapierre - Father of the Attractor


    Sophie cringed at the title given to her father on the screen. She didn''t like to be called the Attractor so publicly, but she understood Marilyn''s motivation. The computer read her reaction in the room and immediately removed those words from the screen.


    "Can you play it on the walls, larger?" she asked.


    Before she could finish her sentence, the walls of the room turned purple.


    This time Malik and Liam were not in the Purple alongside Sophie. Two immaterial human bodies were floating hand in hand in the Purple. Sophie and a perfectly healthy copy of her father. Her father wanted to share some time with his daughter and did not care about the rest. He would play Sophie, so he grabbed himself as a companion and figured his daughter would like the wink of the eye. In the Center, Sophie placed a hand on her father''s head and watched with only a mild level of interest.


    ¡°I told you this place was beautiful," began her father, playing her. "What do you think?" Her father''s ethereal body seemed healed.Laurent had spoken with his daughter at length about what she planned to do once she entered the Purple. She wanted to get to the bottom of a color, of all things. The Metils, including Malik, had this blue spark. It annoyed her, and she wanted to know what it truly signified. Playing as his daughter would take some mental adjustment, not all of it comfortable.


    Truth be told, he cared less and less about the real world. Malik, Sophie, and even Liam cared about the Multiverse and what was going on in the real world. He did not. Recently, his mind began to accelerate, either due to his continual connection to Marilyn, the closure of The Sixth Attraction, or some other esoteric reason. In the end, it really didn''t matter. He''d been warned this condition called "relative time," it could only get worse. There would come a day when there would be no way for Laurent''s mind to slow down enough to communicate meaningfully with Sophie. He supposed that there was nothing to be done but maximize his contact with his daughter while he could, and cross that bridge when the time came. In any event, ever since the accidents that had left him in this condition, every word shared with her had been a blessing.


    He was asked to care about others, to be their next President. How could he? He owed the world to his daughter, but he was no leader. Because of his reckless driving, he had destroyed her life. Now he was told Sophie was the Attractor and there could be a reason, something beyond simple human error or dumb luck, as to why he was crippled. Maybe they were right, but Laurent didn''t care. Today''s game was nothing more than one of the handful of simulations left on the way to the finale and his way to make Sophie proud.


    He looked around in the Purple. The simulation was astonishing in its crispness. Electoral kept improving. He could swear he was alive and traveling between worlds as Sophie. But he was dead, gone. On the heels of that dark thought, he ruthlessly checked himself. He had to snap out of this train of negative thinking. He knew his daughter better than anyone else, and he would now play her to perfection.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Sophie, why bring me? You forgot Liam; he knows things. He could help you," said the Laurent character. The computer was playing him to chilling perfection. Laurent knew these would have been the first words out of his mouth.


    "Daddy, trust me. I know what I need to do." Laurent had a goal, a task given to him by his daughter that he needed to perform. He knew she was watching. Laurent/Sophie closed her eyes, and the couple began a quick journey to the capital. They moved like ghosts. The couple arrived in the same open place as Emilio had, in the middle of the alien city. This was the main concourse of the capital of the Continuum. As in the first simulation, they were quickly surrounded by hundreds of Metils. They formed a sphere at a distance. There was beauty in this world; there was no denying that. Moments later, the same rude military officer arrived.


    "Surrender!" it once again said in a menacing tone.


    Sophie ignored him and looked around.


    "You," she said pointing at a creature in the sphere, "come here."


    "Do not move," barked the Metil officer at the young creature pointed by the Attractor.


    Laurent was playing his daughter, he knew her and loved every fiber of her being. The one thing which infuriated his daughter was a bully. Laurent, moving the body of his daughter, looked back at the rude creature and said. "I don''t know much about what''s going on, but I know that one more word from you and I will vaporize every rock in your body. I am not here to hurt, but I will if anyone gets in my way. You have to learn some manners, and I don''t mind being the one to teach them to you. This is between her and me." Sophie assigned a gender to the creature; she knew it was a female. "Please come here; I wish you no harm. What is your name?"


    Under the watchful eye of hundreds of Metils, the creature advanced slowly. Its rocks were vibrating faster. "How can I be of assistance, great one?" It asked.


    "Call me Sophie," she said, "just Sophie." Playing his daughter, he added, "Daddy, look at this!" She pointed to a portion within the creature.


    Deep within the orbiting rock structures, there was a deep blue light jumping back and forth between two spinning rocks. The energy and its color differed from all the others. It was shining like the jolt of a taser inside of a cloud of fireworks. "Daddy, I saw that last time I was here. Many of these creatures have them." The creature tried to move rocks to hide the part of herself which created the color. Sophie asked the Metil "What is your name?"


    She hesitated, "Kerian."


    "I see a blue rock, here. What is that?"


    "Please!" she felt ashamed.


    Laurent saw every Metil forming the sphere tense as she mentioned the color.


    "Why is this a problem? It''s rather pretty."


    "You do not understand," Kerian was visibly upset.


    "Please explain, I need to know." There was a long pause, Sophie added, "I want to help."


    "Are you not here for the energy ball?"


    "No, I don''t care about that."


    Faced with the situation and under the watchful eye of hundreds of Metil, Kerian finally said, "It is my inversion." The confession was hard. In this world, this inversion was something really bad.


    Sophie turned and asked the military officer. "You, the bully, what does this mean? What is an inversion?"


    "She must be dismantled. When we break the law, unlawful conduct forces the spin between two rocks in our bodies to reverse, it is called an inversion. It is evidence of a crime. Once the inversion surfaces, that creature will kill the offspring if you reproduce. The law is clear, she must be dismantled, and the inversion destroyed to save others."


    "I never committed a crime," objected Kerian.


    "Can''t it not be removed?"


    "No. Removal is always fatal. We have tried."


    "Why are you here if you have one?" asked the girl to Kerian.


    "I was able to hide it. It''s on my fourth layer."


    "I see." The creatures were made of five, six or seven orbiting layers. Each layer had hundreds of rocks. "That must be hard to do."


    "Yes. My days are numbered. Now much more than they were a few moments ago," she added bitterly.


    "Then why does almost everyone here have an inversion?" asked Sophie. There was silence in the open meeting area. Sophie extended her hand in the direction of the officer. "Even the bully has one." There was a gasp.


    "Nonsense," snapped the creature.


    "No need to lie, I can see it." She turned to see the others. Blue light was shining in at least half the creatures watching. As if on cue, the lights began to shine so everyone could see them. "It''s common. They must all die?"


    "Yes," answered the officer. This time he was less assertive. "Inversions are rare."


    "Obviously not. Don''t worry. Let me see." Sophie let go of the hand of her father go and floated closer to Kerian. With her immaterial hand, she reached within her. The rocks and energy began to shiver. Her fingers past the three outer layers and finally her hand materialized as she grabbed the two rocks forming the inversion. Then, like a top is thrown on a table, Sophie stopped the rocks and yanked them so they would spin in the opposite direction. As if she was a doctor using a defibrillator on a patient, the entire rock creature jerked and almost exploded.


    There was shock and awe in the vast assembly.


    The entire simulation on the screen began to blink with orange. A message scrolled at the bottom of the screen; it read "-- Simulation uncertain / Powers of Attractor unknown / Situation uncertain. -- "


    Kerian was floating and pulsing. In a matter of seconds, she was back to her old self. It was impossible to tell of her state of mind. Then she giggled. Like a school girl. She saw the inversion was gone. Around them were murmurs and shock.


    "She healed her," said a voice.


    "That''s impossible," said a second.


    Laurent loved his daughter so much. She was incredible. Sophie did not care about the Multiverse; she cared about people. In her heart, she felt it was more important to make a difference with one person than a billion. Sophie smiled to the creature.


    "Want me to help you?" she asked the officer.


    At first, the creature backed away. It did not know what to say. Sophie did not wait. "I know what you''re thinking. How can I make a positive thing, like execution for a crime, become negative? You''re wondering if you can''t still have her put to death. Come over here." Slowly it came closer, and then the rocks forming his outer shell parted revealing a shining blue pair of rocks. Sophie reached over and did the same gesture. It had the same violent effect and cured the creature of the inversion.


    "But I don''t understand why your inversion is a problem." Sophie looked around until she saw what she was looking for. "You!" The creature began shaking. "Come here." It slowly did. "You have two inversions, not one."


    "How?" it stuttered.


    Sophie did not wait, reached in but instead of grabbing one of the two pairs, she touched other stones, and with a flicker of the wrist in a counter-clockwise fashion, she created a third inversion in the creature.


    There was a gasp in the room. Then she created a fourth, then a fifth.


    The screen turned black, and a commercial played.


    In his head, Laurent heard the artificial voice of Electoral. "Laurent, I apologize, but you were too insightful. As you know, I try to generate this world authentically. At this point, I have no clue what comes next. I don''t want to mislead Sophie by suggesting the outcome of what comes next on pure conjecture." Then, Laurent was the first and only human ever to hear Electoral say what came next. "I have no clue what will happen next. How exciting."


    "I understand," replied Laurent. ¡°Is this it?¡±


    ¡°The rest would mislead Sophie in thinking by changing the sociology, Earth will be saved. You are dooming Earth my friend, not helping save it. I am afraid so. I am unclear why everyone fights me, if your species wants extinction....¡±


    ¡°You are delusional if you think Sophie can be manipulated into doing what you want after parading me on this show.¡±


    ¡°It is worth a shot, unlike you I care for mankind.¡±

 Chapter 65

    Sophie, back in the real world was happy to watch the games end. Life was slowly returning as players, one after the other returned to reality. She glanced at the wall of monitors ahead of Georges, one screen in the bottom right corner worried her. A large plume of red dust filmed in the distance above the Martian scar seemed menacing. There was a lot of commotion as the round of scoring of each player began.


    This purple thing was a diversion, she felt it, a giant waste of time. Sophie got up, grabbed from her dad the plush toy and sent a kiss his way as he was being interviewed online on the monitor next to his cradle. Everyone half wondered if, or even when she would getting ready to jump in this electrifying quantum world. She could save the creatures from this invention or try to save the Earth from the planetoid. No one really worried. If true,the young girl was so powerful she could wish the planet away.


    ¡°Is daddy okay,¡± she asked Doctor Shin.


    ¡°Oh, yes.¡± The lady was always wonderful.


    She needed these people to conduct their little game without her disapproving eye. She waved, sent a kiss to the cameras and as she was about to walk out, from the corner saw Marilyn¡¯s face on a screen next to Georges. The living computer was pointing to a little earbud on the desk. The computer creature wanted some privacy.


    Sophie slid it in. "Sophie, if it''s okay, I wanted a couple of minutes to speak with you as around 27 winds down. Laurent is qualified. If you watch the footage, I need to warn you, I am only a machine; I have my limitations. I am sure Liam will offer the same guidance. In this rare case, my recreations can only go so far. Earth needs to be saved and as you jump in to help, happy to help. To tell you the truth, I have no clue how the Metil population will react to your father''s proposal. I just played along and assumed you would be able to switch the polarity of those pairs of rocks. At some point, my recreations become more fiction than reality. That''s a function of intuition more than mathematics or logic, and it''s something we machines don''t naturally excel at. I don''t want you to think what happens on the screen will be Holy Writ as to what happens when you enter the Purple. Round 27 is intended as a guide, an educated guess."


    Marilyn really cared and was trying to help her. Like a child given a pair of pants as birthday gift, Sophie forced a polite smile and was emotionless as if she really did not care about the Round 27 help. "Liam says the simulations looked very realistic. Daddy is doing great, right?" asked Sophie with a hand on her father''s head.


    "You mean in the game, or in life generally?"


    "Both."


    "In the game, his kindness to the local population will score well. But all this will not change the outcome, Earth will be destroyed if you do as he suggests. But your father and Emilio are so far ahead in the rankings that short of disqualification, they will be the final two contestants on November 21, 2072. Everyone knows it, and frankly, everyone is more than happy with this fact."


    Sophie was proud of her dad. ¡°This is going along well.¡±


    "I know. As for the other part of your question," said the computer as the commercials played, "he still has moments of deep depression. But remember his unique circumstances. As you heard when Georges spoke of the creation of an intelligence in the digital world, his transition, for lack of a better word, is laced through and through with difficulties. The only thing keeping him alive is you. The arrival of Malik has greatly improved your father''s psyche," continued Marilyn. Milly and Georges avoided each other''s gaze. "Getting the boy in his head was a nice touch." There was a sensitive side to Marilyn. "Laurent is, if you can believe it, the closest thing I hold to my kind. We both live here, in this electrical world dependent on energy like you need air."


    "What are the other sixty-two simulations like?" asked Sophie, ¡°Did everyone at least have fun?¡±


    "Oh yes. This is highly entertaining. Most people brought along Liam, a clear favorite. Wait until you see the crazy characters of the next round of play. This old guy proved very helpful to most. I would suggest you bring him along when you visit. I know Liam is listening in so please ask him about what we call here Hawkins'' relative time."


    ¡°Relative time, what is that?¡± Sophie felt Liam already knew what she was talking about.


    ¡°You really want to know?¡± he asked in her mind.


    ¡°Yes,¡± the answer pleased the computer intelligence.


    ¡°My familiarity with mankind remains partial but the works of a handful of your most famous seems to intrigue Marilyn.Relative time is Stephen Hawkins¡¯s end of life legacy. He was a physicist trapped, like Laurent, in a powerless body. He was very sick for a long time, decades actually. He postulated what he called ¡°relative time.¡± The first version was a bit simplified but like Relativity, it was much improved after his passing. Based on my extensive new understanding of Multiversal dynamics, Relative Time was by far his greatest achievement. His last wish was for this theory to enter the real of fiction authorship knowing its proof was centuries away.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    As usual, Sophie¡¯s mind was ahead, she changed the topic asking, ¡°Moving black holes?¡±


    ¡°Those were not black holes. Humans still think there are four dimensions in space-time, but Hawkins felt that was incorrect. Once the other dimensions are taken into consideration, the need for fixed time vanishes. Most humans talk three-dimensional space and time creating four. Even Hawkins believed that nonsense for a while. But then, stuck, he wondered why was time even conceived as a line.¡±


    ¡°You are talking to a twelve year old, you know that?¡±


    ¡°Apology.¡±


    ¡°No, I actually was being sarcastic. This stuff is interesting. Can you continue?¡±


    ¡°With pleasure. Each person thinks they see colors as everyone else does, but when you think about it, is that the case? Each time I point to something red and say it''s red, to Sophie, even if she sees pink, she will go along with my perception of red. At least to me and if she''s not feeling rebellious.¡± Marilyn winked. ¡°Similarly, there is no reason for social media users to see or feel things the same, telling us that both perception and reason are in the eye of the beholder. So why would we each perceive time the same? Some humans are considered more intelligent because they think or reason faster, but maybe the way they experience time is merely different. Your father''s internal clock has been detached from his body. Like myself, he now drifts. But Hawkins goes one step further. He wondered why time itself would be a tool equal to everyone. Once you stop seeing time as linear, the need for a similar evolution of time vanishes. Am I making sense?"


    "I am not sure if I will go back to the Purple. I must talk with Liam first. I am trying to figure out his cause and consequence theory. It is beginning to make sense to me, and if he is correct, my job is not about saving anyone, in fact maybe the Multiverse needs me to do nothing."


    Marilyn disagreed but forced herself silent, ¡°Very wise little one. I will care for your father, he needs a rest in our digital world, this was very taxing to him.¡± Georges saw more emotion appear on the face of his creation. It was genuine surprise. The computer had never anticipated the girl would not take the information she helped generate in around 27 and not return to the Purple. There was logic in any plan of action, and the computer was trying to understand what the girl''s reasoning could be. Dooming mankind to death wasn¡¯t part of the possible outcomes.


    Milly, microphone in hand asked Sophie one last question on her way out. ¡°Would you let all of us die, seriously?¡± There was a gasp in the room. Sophie took no affront. Milly was asking the right question.


    "The more I get involved, the more I am uneasy with this entire situation. I have been trying to understand Liam''s theory and each time I come across the same problem. No one here has the best interest of the Multiverse in mind. Everyone wants things to stay the same. If it''s true, then our dimension needs to end. By protecting it, we are trying to spoil the efforts of the Multiverse. The Multiverse may want our dimension to die so it can transform like a butterfly. It may have cancer that needs eradicating. I think it wants something different; I just don''t know what it needs." Marilyn''s expression was priceless. The girl''s words gave her pause. "What if the last four attractions in fact worked? I think it¡¯s stupid to act without knowing why, I will not use any of this power unless I am convinced it needs to be done. So far, nothing suggests we are better then Malik¡¯s culture.¡±


    Marilyn was worried, what the girl was suggesting was genocide. Milly asked, "Why did the Multiverse send you to see Liam, then to the Purple?"


    "A good point," she answered. "I don''t know what is genuinely going on. But I know now why I was picked."


    "Why?" the journalist asked the obvious question.


    "If I were the Multiverse and were forced to give the keys to my house to someone while I redecorated, I would give them to the only person I could trust not to use my keys. I don''t feel good going to this other world. In fact, I don''t want to. I think I am the only person in the world if given this power that would not use it. That''s why I was chosen, and that''s why I hesitate to go. No matter what you put on those screens, I plan to do what I feel is right, not what anyone tells me to do."


    "How can saving the world and saving yourself in the process be the wrong thing to do?" asked Marilyn.


    "I am still upset at how you used me to grab this thing you call the Dot. You should have asked."


    "You would not have said yes."


    "How do you know? Liam was in charge of the Dot, and if he felt it would help me with my mission, I am sure he would have handed it over. He is confirming it as we speak. You know I am right.¡±


    "That is not how things work."


    "That''s my point; you act like all the adults. You take charge, you do things and justify it by telling yourself other ways were not open to you. If you are right, and things are as simple as changing the Purple, the Multiverse would not have picked me. Everyone is better suited than me to face the problems you articulate."


    "Sophie, you are playing a dangerous game."


    "Liam says for a young girl, I make a surprising amount of sense."


    "I like Liam. Sophie," concluded the computer intelligence, "I think you and Liam do not understand that the last thing I want is to control and direct you. I still think unless you pull a miracle in a couple of weeks, we will all vanish. I do not want to die. My own father¡¯s life is on the line. I do think you are unique in many ways and I also think putting our destiny in your hands is wise. Today, if I were forced to pick someone to save me, your name would still be first on that list. But your conclusion is wrong."


    Sophie smiled and walked out from the frenetic gaming room. Adults in the room felt childish - they were being schooled by a young Attractor.


    Outside the Martian sand was rising in the distance, it looked like a nuclear bomb had gone off in the deep scar of the Martian landscape.


    Sophie looked at that monitor, ¡°is this happening now?¡±


    Marilyn answered, ¡°It is not moving our way, yet.¡±


    She walked out. She needed to think and went to her room.

 Chapter 66

    At first, there was guilt of not spending those few moments inside her father''s head. As a loving daughter, his happiness was at the center of her every move. She quickly realized Malik, the alien boy, was uniquely capable of giving him purpose. The boy was a refugee who enjoyed learning from Laurent, and his mentorship of the alien seemed therapeutic. Malik spent every possible moment playing chess with his once-human companion and after a visit in the Purple, Laurent felt even more confident his role was to give the kid any quality time until all this ended.


    Sophie loved Laurent more than life itself. She felt, in her heart, he was somehow the key to this latest obstacle called the Sixth Attraction. He needed to stay alive until her birthday and play the Finale; the rest was immaterial.


    ¡°Nice touch getting the Guesser to probe the computer,¡± she said to the Oldest in her mind.


    ¡°Once again, none of this was my bidding. You just wanted me to train him, he was ready. I am sure Marilyn did not like it.¡±


    "Being secretive has drawbacks. What should we do?" asked Sophie with her inner voice to Liam, the Immortal.


    "I know the computer intelligence is getting restless. She runs billions of scenarios trying to anticipate your every moves. I have a nagging feeling she can''t guess what you will do next and it is driving her crazy."


    "Why?"


    "Do you want the complex answer?"


    "I am afraid to say yes. Is there a simple version?"


    "Of course. Determinism of chaos is entangled with your Rho waves. Said differently, your actions are disjointed from your movements in the space-time continuum."


    "You call that the simpler version. I have no clue what you just said."


    Liam though long for a proper analogy, "She is cooking, and you are a smell. She can''t read you because you are fundamentally different."


    "Much better," said the girl in her mind. "I use the waves to do things, do I have superpowers?"


    "Maybe you should try."


    "No."


    "Why not?"


    "I don''t know. It''s like giving a child a gun and asking what she will shoot first. She shouldn''t shoot anything. Why me?"


    The girl was standing silent eyes closed.


    "That is a great question. I have a handful of answers, each as improbable as the next. I think you are the heart of a needed consequence. Improbable causes have followed you for well over a year, even before this game began. The accidents on Earth leaving you untouched while taking your family. There was no ordinary set of events that wounded your father as he now lives, this is nothing short of a miracle.¡±


    ¡°There waves were part of the accident?¡±


    ¡°If I did not know better, I would say someone wanted you and your family out of this world and acted at a time before your powers were sufficient to save yourself and protect your father. Turns out it was still too late."


    The girl did not like what this suggested. If he was correct, her father was handicapped, and her mother and brother were dead because of her. "The waves, maybe it''s that simple. My father and mother gave me these waves; I was born this way. Perhaps I was not picked. Maybe I''m just the only one born this way."


    "Doubtful. I think you are different than all other humans in many unique ways and this unique mind of yours is owed to your progenitors. But these waves are another matter.When you visited my world or the Purple, your waves left with your soul. I have lived a long time as you know. In this eternity I have met millions of creatures. They are all in their way rather easy to categorize. You, my friend, fall into the rarest category; a very strange one indeed."


    "What is it?"


    "You, Sophie Lapierre, are an anti-hero." He said the words almost with shame.


    "What is an anti-hero?"


    "Every story has a hero, a person who tries their best to achieve the goal of the story. This hero can be competent or clumsy, but each time the character is faced with the goal, the hero wants to achieve it. If this entire story was about saving your father, you would be a simple hero. Saving humans, anti-hero.¡±


    The voice in her head continued, ¡°Sometimes, instead of a hero, a story revolves around a villain who tries to impede the goal." Sophie liked her new friend. He always made her feel intelligent. The Oldest said the words carefully. "Each story has an end, an objective. Here, it is the Sixth Attraction. The main character always travels along the story to its outcome, which I call consequence. An anti-hero is a main participant forced to travel to an end defined to be irrelevant or hostile to the hero. In a princess story, where the hero must rescue the maiden, an anti-hero is a person who does not care about saving the princess. Don''t confuse a villain and an anti-hero. A villain wants the princess not to be rescued. The anti-hero refuses to play along with entire premise of the story.¡±


    "Are you sure I am a anti-hero?"


    "I think you are the only person of your race who does not care about money or power or even life. Your primary and only care, as it should be, is your father. Your sense of caring for others is unequal for one as young as you. If I were the Multiverse and needed someone to care about me before caring about billions, I would choose you amongst all others. I would entrust you with my life. You are, my dear, a pure altruist. You are the only human who would let life extinguish."


    The artificial intelligence was watching the girl fearful of the silence. She knew Sophie was talking to the Oldest in her mind. The young lady smiled and said internally, "I like you, Liam."This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "May I ask a question which puzzles me?" said the Oldest.


    "Of course."


    "If I were in your position, I would be dreaming of a miracle, of regenerating your father or speaking with the spirit of your mother. You have not tried to change him or contact her. Why not dream of an outcome where your father''s body regenerates on November 21. Those powers may do that. Why not rescue the human race, your father, and take the Sixth Attraction seriously?"


    "Like a hero?" she joked out loud. She continued internally, "I like your anti-hero theory; it''s me. I don''t believe in miracles. Things are the way they are for a reason. I can correct injustice with all my heart, but my father''s condition is more of a last chance. I don''t want to do anything which may risk his well-being. Fixing things is often the best way to break them beyond all hope of repair."


    Liam was speechless. The human girl was wise beyond her years. She continued, "I know it will sound harsh but I care for my father the way he is. If you love someone, you don''t try to change them. People in wheelchairs are full people. Their loved ones should not try to get them to walk, they should accept them with that condition." The young girl was inspiring. "I love him as he is. We have days at most. I have accepted that a long time ago. Dreaming of more is too painful."


    "What do you really care about?" asked Liam.


    "Not much. I''m tired of all this. The computer, the game and now this Multiverse problem. I think it''s unfair this falls on my lap, the same way my father''s condition did. I own a house; you know that? I am the only twelve-year-old in the world who legally owns a house, I think. I should be trick-or-treating right now; it''s Halloween soon, my favorite day." Liam did not know what the celebration was, but he felt for the girl. "I am no hero, that''s for sure, and I don''t want to be one."


    The creature needed to comfort her, "At my age, as you can imagine, I''ve lived past many bouts of depression and a lack of desire to continue living. I understand in part what you feel, and I can tell you, it will pass. You are a prized creature, a lovely one. Just be yourself. I forgot to say; the anti-hero always saves the world. She simply saves it for a different purpose. An anti-hero is often the only one able to see the door invisible from sight. Anti-hero''s make more sense in real life. The Multiverse could have picked hundreds to be a hero, the President for example. You alone require no guidance from Marilyn, myself or even your father. We will all show you the wrong door. I am here to provide context and background, not to help you choose. Trust yourself."


    "I really like you, Liam," she added again. ¡°Do you want this world to survive?"


    "Honestly? I do want the Multiverse to heal, yes. I stopped caring about life in the Multiverse millions of years ago. The desire to live is weak. I drove myself with an insatiable thirst to see outside of my world because I wanted to see the Multiverse. Now I found something much stronger to care about: You. I want you to be happy, irrespective of what this means. I am ready to die. If you want this to end, it will, and I will be happy until it does."


    "So what should I do?"


    "You are asking the wrong person," as Liam said these words, he felt the girl''s inner fiber resonate. She was thinking.


    On her face, eyes closed, the living computer saw a smile.


    ***


    Minutes later she opened her eyes and spoke to Liam and Marilyn out loud. "I know what to do.¡± Marilyn was listening, systems energized.


    "Finally," replied the elegant female voice in the room, "welcome back. Should I prepare the portal to the Purple? The Nexus requires activation and power, a minute at most."


    The young girl walked into the bathroom to put her favorite t-shirt back on, the one with the world Power on it. It was dirty but at twelve, who could object.


    As she walked out, Marilyn jumbled out in excitement, "I need to be clear," began the artificial intelligence, "the game simulation in the Purple was only designed to help you, not to teach you what to do. From this point forward, you are in charge of what happens, and you call the shots. I agree with Liam, whatever the Sixth Attraction is, we cannot adversely interfere with you. In fact, I don''t think we can interfere with it at all. Even if we wanted to." Sophie walked out of the room toward the game room where others were gathering.


    The girl smiled. She obviously had different plans.


    "Are you ready?" asked Sophie to Liam.


    "Marilyn will not like this,¡± he spoke in silence.


    ¡°I know,¡± she answered. The cameras were buzzing in the room. Milly rushed in.


    ¡°Marilyn, get the pod ready." The shimmer that surrounded her body was thicker and as she walked, it now deformed space behind her.


    "It is. Should I prepare your father for the connection? I need about two minutes for the Dot to power."


    "No need of him or these things. I need to try something else. I think I know what needs to happen next; if not, no harm done." She was excited. Liam, locked in her mind marveled at the pre-teen: from sadness to exaltation in minutes.


    "The pod is ready. Do you need me to broadcast to the world your plan in the Purple? I know the viewers and myself would love to see what happens next if that is possible."


    "If you can send images, please do. I doubt you will be able to." As she entered the gaming room, the rows of chambers were all powered up. The small group had been waiting all night for the girl to decide what she would do next. The Earth was in imminent danger, and the computer had shown the way forward. Georges'' trash overflowed with candy wrappers. Marilyn was on high alert, in fact, she was excited.


    The doctor had not moved, "Your father is in great shape," offered Susie. From a distance, Milly the journalist unclipped more flying cameras from her belt. They began to buzz around the room. The journalist was happy to see Sophie and waved at her as she walked to the nearest pod and CNN¡¯s cameras flared with excitement. People were waking neighbors down on Earth. The young girl''s presence always lit up the room, and today was no exception. The broadcast began down on Earth and to the Holiday Inn Mars.


    Something important was about to happen, three weeks before the Sixth Attraction.


    After kissing the forehead of her father, Sophie walked to the nearest pod. The transparent door opened welcoming her. She wedged the furry creatures inside the pod and jumped in. With both hands, she tied the security belt around her waist and slipped the ring around her head.


    "What can I broadcast Sophie?" asked Milly before the girl arched back.


    Sophie replied, "You know me, this is their world, they always have a right to know and see. Hiding the truth only creates problems and lies. I just fear you''ll be too busy to broadcast. I think what I am about to do is stupid. I apologize in advance," she said as she looked at the camera, speaking directly to the viewers on Earth. ¡°No purple,¡± she spoke as the energy around her warped to engulf the tube. It was impossible to ignore, the glass was moving like a soap bubble.


    The artificial intelligence, capable of faster calculations read Sophie''s words, deduced where she was going next. In a lab below Paris, Takeda a virologist was holding a frog, it was infected with the new God Virus but that was Emilio¡¯s problem.


    Electoral in a picosecond powered every backup and security system she had. Computers flared. She simply began "Noooo..." In a nanosecond, Marilyn tried to cut power to the pod. She could not; the forces at work were much greater than hers. The girl''s plan needed power and Marilyn was in no way capable of standing in her way. Electrons punched out quantum barriers to power the girl¡¯s helmet. The essence of the world changed. Sophie''s power was growing by the day. As if a giant power cord had been pulled somewhere deep below the Electoral Center, the entire place went dark. Every camera, every piece of electronics, or microprocessor on Mars and Earth shut down.


    Alarms in the Center powered by the desperate creature went off as the walls made of millions of magnetized grains of sand began to lose coherence and fall around down in the room.


    Sophie had forgotten Marilyn powered the Center.

 Chapter 67

    The Underworlds


    Time, where Sophie went evolved faster than in The Cold. At such a quick ¡®unfolding¡¯ what happened next, in this enclave below the Multiverse (in a place called simply The Underworlds) would feel like an hour for each second passed in Sophie¡¯s home.


    At that precise moment she blinked here, the Center and Earth both lost all power. Electoral, the powerful collective artificial intelligence, was, in the blink of an eye, gone from the Cold.


    Worthy of repeating, she was gone from her digital world.


    Marilyn was no longer in her digital world, nor was she in The Cold. The Attractor had picked Her as a travel mate. Gone was Earth, Mars, the Center and even the dimensions. Marilyn feared the girl had drawn her down to the Purple. At least there, she might gain access to the Nexus. A first in over thirty years, she lacked imagination.


    As quickly as Sophie had jumped in and closed her eyes in the pod, she was now floating in an endless cosmic void, wearing jeans and her white t-shirt. The transition to this new place was instantaneous. There had been a delay the last time she used the pod in the Electoral Center, but not this time. As the Sixth Attraction was nearing, she felt herself evolving. When Marilyn forced her into the trance, the movement was hard. Then, as she traveled to meet Liam, she also returned a different person the effort was easier. Her waves were getting stronger, and like an Ironman athlete hardening her muscles with the passing months, her self-confidence and power were growing.


    She had a hunch, it required testing.


    Three weeks remained until her birthday and the finale of the Electoral 2072 competition, and more importantly, from what Liam and Marilyn called The Sixth Attraction.


    She looked around at her new surroundings. They were floating weightlessly in the void of space. Around her were the colorful points of light forming billions of different galaxies. This was no ordinary teleportation into space, the level of detail she could perceive was surreal. They were not in a different place. Here space itself was different.


    Sophie could see clusters like nebulas but they were energy, not structures the astronomers saw in large telescopes. She felt the clouds of stars or even pulsars pouring dust into black holes. Her mind was as sharp as that of a god. She was given a front row seat to this vast creation. The young girl had no physical body really, just a ghost form. Her mind was floating in the brightest of night skies. But as if to help her feel at home, around her was the white streak of the spiral arm of the Milky Way. In the distance, she could even see the other arm. Between the arms floated the giant light ball covering the galaxy''s central black hole. Somehow, this sea of light was alive, and she could see her universe in true perspective.


    It took a moment for her to settle in. The beauty around was boundless. Sophie''s mind was floating in our solar system. Beneath her invisible feet was the orange rock that humans had named Mars. It was the size of a fruit. The Sun was nothing more than a bright white light behind her. Other matters were more important.


    There were dust formations of deep purple color. Bordeaux streaks like liquid highways interlaced the dust. The Milky Way seemed alive with energy; she wondered what that was. The spectacle was breathtaking and made even Electoral''s welcoming images at the start of her simulations appear amateurish.


    She knew she held the power and that was not acceptable. She was Sophie Lapierre, and landed here for a reason. In the vastness, there was perfection and calm. Gazing out at the vista before her, Sophie worked to calm herself. The young Attractor slowly returned to her old self. The contemplative feeling was soon replaced with a sense of duty and purpose. She had a job to do, and it was not what others expected. Celestial tourism would have to wait.


    "Liam, can you see this?" asked the girl.


    "I can," managed to reply the voice of the Oldest. Liam was searching for the right word to address Sophie. One came to mind: "Attractor." The title was suiting. Sophie was undoubtedly the Attractor, the first in millions of years. Liam was in awe. Sophie had now drawn him with her to this place. In his wildest dreams, which, in an eternity, can exceed reality he''d never dreamt or imagined such wonders. In less than a week inside the head of the girl, he had changed.


    Before, he considered himself part of the Attraction, a guide of sorts. Now he knew better. He was a tool Sophie needed, a piece of a larger puzzle and nothing more. The mission had never been about him, but even as the oldest and wisest being in the Multiverse, he had not anticipated becoming so ancillary. The realization did not sting. If anything, it reassured him. The Rho waves made Sophie electrifying in all aspects. His dream of visiting other words had been replaced by his friendship with the girl. It was the greatest gift in all of creation, as well as its heaviest burdens. Liam had discovered unconditional love. For this girl, he would die in a heartbeat.


    "Marilyn, are you here?" Sophie asked. The question surprised Liam.


    "I am," said the deeper female voice in quite a scared tone. The artificial intelligence was not happy, and there was something less human to its voice. "Are you out of your mind?"


    In a very shocking twist, the Attractor spoke, "Get over it!" snapped Sophie to the artificial intelligence. Sophie was undisturbed by Marilyn''s grumpiness; she seemed to have expected it. "There are worse places to visit." No one intimidated the Attractor, not even the computer. Liam already was overwhelmed by his surrounding returned to reality.


    Finally gathering her wits, Marilyn continued in a softer tone, "My power holds the Center on Mars. It''s essentially a large sand castle. If I stay here, even for a moment, your lives are all in danger. Air will vanish in a minute at most in the command room. Your tube is not airtight."


    Liam expected anything but what came next, "For the first time in a long time, you are not in charge, I am. If I understand how this works, we are in no danger. Let the Multiverse manage it; it obviously has all of this well planned. Simply enjoy the ride. If we die, at least enjoy your last moments."


    The logic was flawless.


    Liam¡¯s admiration bursted out of his non-existent chest. He was in awe of Sophie.


    "I said you and your father were in danger. I did not include myself. There is no way I am gone from my servers." Sophie didn''t care.


    Around the trio was breathtaking beauty. The feeling of apprehension quickly subsided in Marilyn''s mind, rechanneling the computer''s disbelief of her new condition. The view was enough to silence the world''s most imaginative astronomer. Marilyn lived locked in her digital world. She could not perceive images or colors directly. She instinctively produced images for humans, but from her side of the screen, the universe was nothing more than a sea of data packets. Communication, speech, or even video was to her nothing more than zeros and ones. The girl had slipped her essence in a human consciousness. In a fraction of a second, the software creature was gifted with human sight. Unfortunately, her mind was also no longer able to multi-task.


    Then, Marilyn felt something grow from deep within her mind. A new feeling. The sights around her were too much to handle. The beauty, the colors, were giving birth to new emotions previously unknown to her. They bubbled up uncontrollably, chaotically. Unable to control herself, from within the girl''s head, Marilyn began to wept tears of joy. The computer''s joy was infectious. Liam felt proud of how fast he had adapted to the new world. Unlike the machine, he had kept most of his composure when arriving into the Cold. But he was older; Marilyn was still a child, even in man''s years.


    "Take a deep breath," suggested the girl.


    As if Marilyn had lungs or even knew what breathing was, she tried, and it seemed to work. Liam offered, "Count prime numbers. It works for other AI''s adapting to a more biological condition." There was no time to wonder what Liam had just said. Marilyn merely began to count. There was one, that was a prime. Then three, then five. Slowly, as she struggled with basic math, she calmed herself.


    "I''m having...problems with primes past 131." She said out loud. Sophie did not remember what prime numbers were, nor did she care. The trio was still in Earth''s dimension, the place called the Cold. Sophie looked around. Below them stood Mars. It was the size and color of an orange. On its orbit was Phobos, the deformed moon. Behind her, a deep blue light winked. It was unmistakable. Earth, fragile and precious. When Marilyn saw the planets, the tears retuned. "I am sorry," she apologized. "I am so stupid," she offered, "I am being childish." There was a refreshing quality to her vulnerability. A minute later Marilyn simply concluded, "Thank you."Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    "Do you feel better?"


    "Yes, much better. These emotions are new to me. The stars are so beautiful," continued Marilyn. "I have learned to control and manipulate the emotions of humans, and here I am, acting like a child unable to cope with the most basic of them."


    "I also am finding this situation very hard to handle," replied Liam, "Baptizing this dimension the Cold was not my wisest moment."


    Sophie chuckled. Her friends were quickly adjusting. "Guys, can I get some silence? I have some work to do." A young human girl just told the two most powerful creatures in the universe to shut up. They did. Silence returned to the grandiose of space of this misnamed dimension.


    Sophie spoke out in her kind voice. She spoke to the cosmos Liam called the Multiverse and simply demanded, "Show me what needs to be seen." The invisible passengers understood the girl''s plan. This little human was trying to talk to the Multiverse. "Show me," she repeated. There was no emotion in her voice.


    The Multiverse did not hear her. If Marilyn and Liam were right and there was, in fact, an Attraction coming, her waves were the key to this equation. Sophie knew what she had to do but was trying not to go there yet.


    Sophie was not here to serve as the Multiverse''s cop. She was not a person to tell others what to do, much less alter the actions of an entire world. In her mind, she even refused to place her world''s needs above those of the Purple. If they wanted to destroy the Earth, who was she to stand in the way?


    After much reflection, things became clear to her. Instead of guessing what the Multiverse wanted, why not simply ask it. Maybe it wanted the Earth to die, or maybe Marilyn was too dangerous to exist. Sophie''s way was always simple. She refused to be deceitful, closed or secretive. Whatever the Multiverse wanted, she probably would do.


    Her demand, words, in the vacuum felt weak.


    The trio patiently waited in silence, but nothing happened. Liam and Marilyn knew better.


    Sophie knew she needed to speak louder or speak in a way only the Multiverse could hear. Her waves were the key. Lost in this vastness, she needed to throw a stone in this proverbial pond, and she knew of only one way. On the day she landed in the catapult at the Electoral Center, Marilyn had used music to push her into a trance. The music resonated with her feelings and moved her to a place where her emotions took over. She needed that push into full emotional existence to spur the Rho waves into action. She looked at her surroundings. There was much beauty but nothing which would make her laugh. There was no music but she knew better.


    There was a place, a door deep within her mind behind which was something was sure to make her feel. She hesitated for a moment, but there was no real choice. She closed her mind''s eye and returned to the private darkness of her inner self. As she did, darkness also befell her two silent companions. They would see the memories Sophie was about to unlock.


    There was silence in the new darkness of her inner self. Below them simmered a dark oil. They felt humidity and a cold that chilled bones. They were slipping into a nightmare.


    There it was.


    In the distance, a small wooden door floated against no wall.


    They drew closer.


    The wood was old and the paint covering it cracked. The door had no handle and pulsed in and out as if it was alive and breathing. Across it were chains and a large padlock. It was at corners sweating blood, in others places only black tar. Such a sight in a young mind was horrific. The scene alone was terrifying to the girl who forced herself to keep moving closer. Behind the wood was a memory, part of Sophie''s darkest past. There was no need to be a psychotherapist to know what memory was locked behind. She drew closer and was hesitant to open it, but today was different. There was no time to waste. She needed to feel and there was no music.


    Marilyn and Liam both saw a young hand extend and touch the humid wood. As the tip of the finger sank, the wood rotted away. The trio was transported to a dark rainy road in the State of Indiana. Thunder clapped high in the sky. Strong rain was drumming against the roof of the small electric car. The vehicle''s wiper blades were struggling to keep up.


    Sophie was much younger; she was only ten. The girl was strapped by a large seatbelt to the back seat of her father''s car. In the front, her parents struggled with the difficult road conditions and glitching electronics. Marilyn and Liam were powerless observers. Lightning hit a tree on the side of the road, and sparks filled the sky. There was another car; it veered away, pushing Laurent off the road. It all happened in the blink of an eye.


    Sophie and her friends did not see the scene from a distance; they were somehow reliving it from the back seat. They were inside the girl''s terrified brain. Outside loud noises exploded. Her seatbelt was strapped on too tight; she couldn''t move. Sophie knew what came next but was powerless to prevent it. Laurent and her mother were sitting in the front seat, their hands extended in every direction. She recognized her mother''s red dress; she had died in it. The red would later help cover the dark splatters of blood.


    Then it happened. The car ran off the road and crashed down into a ditch. As it rolled down, a large branch ripped in the side door. The spike crushed her mother''s body and impaled her unborn child. The liquid and blood splashed out. As clearly as a child can recall a traumatic event, she saw the wood drive out the unborn brother''s body into her father''s legs. The window smashed in, and shards of glasses flew in every direction. A second branch punched in the other side and ripped Laurent''s left shoulder.


    This was sheer horror, and the memory of this powerless child was sparing no details. In the back seat, the ten-year-old Sophie was in complete hysteria. The images worked, they filled an emotional void inside her heart. The horror continued to the next scene as firefighter arrived to cut the metal.


    Deep within herself, she felt the Rho waves boil up. This time they were not fueled by love, they were fuel by despair and pain. She felt a river of energy below her feet. This was more than she could contain, her mind was ready to explode. No one should see these images, much less relive them. Liam and Marilyn understood in a heartbeat the deep trauma residing in this poor girl.


    The swirl of emotions within Sophie quickly became a tsunami too powerful to be contained. Every fiber of her being filled with the invisible Rho waves. If she had eyes, they would have long ago filled with tears. Then, in her vision, she saw the fire. The death of her father in the ambulance as his skin burned away. It was too late; she could not stop the images. As the horror continued, the Rho waves began to swirl around her in the shape of a vortex.


    The power surged, and like a nuclear bomb, she was ready to explode in the underworld. She was a lit beacon, blazing outward for the Multiverse to see. The raw waves were jagged and varied as they''d been fueled by painful emotions, but this was all she had. She could not speak or even open her eyes. Blood and violence everywhere. Suffering perfused her. She saw her father''s deformed body, and she remembered their sad house in the United States.


    There was a kaleidoscope of awful images inside her heart. Sophie saw one negative thing after the next. Nothing could help. She felt despair and fear. She was unable to prevent herself from falling into an abyss of sadness. She missed her mother and wished she had died in the car alongside her. Like a driver falling prey to road rage, she was out of control. Her brother was also dead. He''d been crushed before he''d even drawn his first breath. There was no closing the door she had just opened.


    The pain was too much. She began to cry alone in the darkness.


    She was losing control, and the waves were not helping.


    Then the entire vision restarted fresh from the start. The accident would happen again. She was caught in an endless loop like the Hell Malik had saved Laurent from. She saw herself back buckled to the backseat of the car, ready to crash again. Her parents were back in the front seat. But this time Sophie appeared younger and more vulnerable. This time an eight-year-old was losing it. Outside, the Rho waves swirled night in the sky fueling the storm.


    She panicked and began to hyperventilate as sparks flew in the sky.


    Then she heard it. "Sophie," said a faint but unmistakable voice from deep within herself.


    "Mommy?" she cried.


    "Yes, darling." The voice was not coming from her mother standing in the front seat but from inside her head. "Yes, it''s me."


    The voice felt like an anchor in her storm. The little girl closed her eyes as the car flew off the road. Liam and Marilyn were crushed by the intensity of the situation. They were unable to help, watching powerlessly the most dramatic event they each had ever seen.


    The girl lost all restraint and fell deep into sorrow. "Stop crying, my angel. It heard you. Close the door. Please open your eyes for me, my angel," her mother asked gently. The girl, lost in pain, could only cling to her mother''s voice and try to do as she was asked. Only that voice made any sense. Only a mother''s voice could penetrate the darkness that was swallowing her. It echoed deep inside her. "Please save your father and tell him I miss him so much. Open your eyes please."


    Liam could not believe what he was hearing. Sophie''s mother was trying to rescue her daughter. She spoke of the door and saving the world. Liam was proven wrong, even after millions of years. He was still able to be overwhelmed by emotions and he too began to weep. Marilyn, unable to fathom the river of emotions, was also crying in silence. They were also victim to this vortex of energy.


    "Open your eyes, my love," said the mother more forcibly. Then, as only a mother could, she commanded, "Sophie Maud Ginette Lapierre," barked a mother about to ground her child, "open your eyes this instant young lady!"


    The daughter did.


    The lights of the Cosmos returned.


    As if millions of supernova exploded at once, there was a loud bang in the Underworlds of the Multiverse. A floodgate of energy was released from her body. Every living creature stood in the cold of a summon. Sophie had rung a bell; a cold wave of energy poured out of her. It spread in the shape of a bubble in all directions. This was the most powerful force ever created since the birth of the Multiverse.


    She, a little human girl from Indiana, had just summoned the Multiverse.

 Chapter 68

    Since the wave¡¯s attenuation was negative, an impossibility, the shockwave grew in power as it spread away from Sophie deep into the Underworlds.


    Sophie''s two passengers felt space around them strain. As the energy spread, it distorted nothing short of space-time. The Rho waves, in color, shape and effect amplified as they grew distant. Like neutrinos, the energy did not appear to damage the physical reality, just caressed it. The shock was not physical; it worked on a much more subtle and deeper level. Marilyn and Liam were humbled by the very nature of what they had just witnessed and felt. How dare Marilyn use the Attractor''s waves to grab the Dot? Maybe her actions had unintended consequences, but like any good narcissist, she''d quickly dispelled her doubts. But Marilyn felt at the moment vastly inferior and extremely foolish, for perhaps the first time in her short life.


    Sophie opened her tear-filled eyes.


    She knew the Multiverse was here, in her heart she felt it.


    "Show me what I need to see." The girl repeated.


    Liam and Marilyn were silenced, but this time because they felt the power of the young girl. A human was talking to a force well beyond comprehension. At this time, in this place, Sophie was somehow relevant to the Multiverse. Liam wondered if this girl alone could have found her way here or if the waves were changing Sophie into a different living entity. This human, only twelve but had learned to control her gift and ignoring all care and caution, was now talking to the Multiverse herself.


    Around them, space softened.


    -- It -- answered.


    ¡ª She answered. ¡ª


    There were, of course, no words, no images. None would suffice. The Multiverse''s arrival made Liam''s welcoming bell tones on the Nexus, or Marilyn''s video montages childish noise. Sophie slid a key into the fabric between all worlds, in a place where space itself meant nothing. No science could explain this. No technology ever conceived by any world came even close to what was happening. Liam also knew none of the previous Attractors had mastered their power, much less spoken to the Multiverse.


    Sophie was...


    Sophie was a natural; she was different, unique.


    There was no time for hope, the. echoes of space replied.


    Sophie''s mind, intertwined with her illustrious guests, was propelled to a higher level of consciousness as inversely as Marilyn had just been humanized. They were connected to parts of life itself like a mother giving birth. The trio no longer had only four senses, they had ten. They were a blind man given the gift of sight. Their brains were at first unable to process most of the information now available to them. Their minds, overloaded with a flow of incomprehensible information, struggled to achieve equilibrium. The poor girl¡¯s stance for a moment changed, she fell to. The power, arms and head back.


    There were new colors and shapes but more importantly, new feelings. It was clear many of the new senses were linked with what humans like to describe generally as emotions. In the vastness of space and the unlimited power of the Multiverse, it felt strange to completely reprocess something as simple as a feeling born from within.


    To humans, a limited number of emotions could occupy a mind at the same time. To the Multiverse, above time and space was energy, and high in the priority of these powers were emotions, millions of them. The world around them lost the feeling of materiality and became a large pool of feelings floating through the vastness of life.


    Like a spider weaving a web, the Multiverse connected emotions of all types. Sophie saw her father appear in the distance. She knew it was him, though his body was whole. He was wearing a long white robe. Next to him appeared her mother holding the unborn child she was unable to bear. They were visions. The Multiverse wanted Sophie to see this. There were no words. Words could only serve to mask the message the Multiverse was trying to give.


    Around them were the images of the accident she had just imagined, but instead of the pain and hurt were floating positive emotions of all type. Sophie, her father, and her mother appeared at the tip of a large triangle. Between them, energy in the form of lightening jumped back and forth. The blue lightning was pure and felt good. Sophie was puzzled by what she was shown; was this how the multiverse showed love? She''d expected something different.


    Then these images vanished, and the silent darkness returned. The first message had been given. Somehow her family was at the center of this situation. There was much more the Multiverse needed to share. To aid their understanding, music began to play. It touched them, and the visitors began to resonate from within. The same way Marilyn used music as an integral part of her game, so did the Multiverse. At first, it picked a flawless but straightforward piece of flute. It was a gentle bird bouncing from one flower to the next. Then it gained in complexity as hundreds of unknown instruments gently wove themselves into the mix to create the most suiting symphony.


    They were about to travel to places no creature had ever seen.


    The group now felt like it was moving in space. After a moment''s consideration, they realized spaced moved around them. Reality vaporized only to be replaced by clouds of lights and thunder. They escaped the Cold and punched out of the worlds into invisible curtains. Liam and Sophie recognized the feeling. They''d once felt these curtains as they traveled between the Lowest and the Purple.


    The girl felt Liam''s exhilaration and Marilyn''s terror. They were moving between the worlds, and the artificial intelligence was distancing herself from her reality and body. As they moved out, they began to grow in size. There was no way to see themselves become larger than galaxies back on Earth, but deep inside, they felt it.  They grew and grew until the darkness returned.


    They were now larger than entire worlds. The music kept pace with their new form. Then the darkness vanished again. To the oldest creature in the Multiverse and to Marilyn, this show of power was humbling. They were specks in an ocean. To Sophie, this felt natural. She was unimpressed by the magnitude of the story playing around her, but paying attention nonetheless.


    The group flew quickly to their next destination and after a minute of flashing colors, the vortex of light finally settled. With the help of the Multiverse, thick walls of color began to parse.


    Arriving on top of a Celestial Mount Everest overlooking a valley of shining colors. In the heart of a valley, billions of light years below them, existed a structure. This was a sea of headless serpents crawling like maggots over a corpse. The long worms were made of light, and looked like rice noodles cooking in a light broth. Sophie did not understand what she was seeing and hoped her companions did. They were here as translators.


    In this ocean of energy, nothing made sense. "These are the worlds forming the Multiverse," offered Liam, "I recognize their ballet. That is how they move; we know that. Most people think the different pieces in the Multiverse are like flat layers on a cake. We map them like these structures, as strains. Normally their movement is languid. A simple bend takes a million of your years." The dance of the creatures was at first somewhat random. The tubes slid and bent in a ballet, guided by some invisible music. Like the breaking of waves in the ocean to a veteran ship captain, the ballet began to take shape in Sophie''s eyes. She began to feel something different.


    "Which one is our world, the one you call the Cold?" asked the young girl. Liam knew the answer, he replied.


    "The longest one. It wraps all others."


    In the corner of her eye, she saw a spark of blue, the same color as the Metil inversion. It resonated in her the same way the Metil''s rock inversion had. Slowly, some tubes began to fade, revealing what appeared to be one endless world wrapping around most others. Then the lengthy tube, the Cold, began to change color. Earth''s entire dimension turned red and in some parts brighter red. "I see it," the girl answered.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "You do?" questioned the artificial intelligence who apparently did not see the color. The Multiverse wanted Sophie alone to see what was next. The tube, as it colored like a vein filled with cholesterol, stiffened. In turn, it''s wavy movement around the other worlds slowed like an umbilical cord strangling the neck of a newborn.


    "The Multiverse can''t sever our world," whispered the girl. "Unless we fix it, the Multiverse as a whole will end." Liam stayed silent as the words sank in. "Liam?"


    "Yes, Attractor."


    "Call me Sophie please, specially here."


    "Yes, Sophie."


    "This is different."


    "What do you mean?"


    "Could the Multiverse transform itself? Like a butterfly."


    Liam was humbled. He was talking universal metaphysics with this girl. In his world, he alone knew of these concepts. He thought long and hard about the best answer to give Sophie. The girl was no fool; she would cut to the essential, so he simply answered, "Yes. The physical constants could converge. They never have, why would they?"


    Sophie and Liam felt a deceptive intent arise deep within Marilyn. The digital creature was hiding something. Before they would speak, the trio resumed its travel. They plunged closer in the direction of the red-colored worm, Sophie and Marilyn''s world. They braced for the impact, but like a plane enters a cloud, they quickly crossed into the tube. The moment they touched the outer skin, their view changed. They now stood inside of a large library. Here there was no ceiling, no floor. Only endless stacks of books.


    As if they came alive, each book slipped out of its shelf, as if opened by magic. Pages ripped from the books and exploded violently. The stacks of paper spread apart like serpents and images instead of word-filled paper.Each page was animated, like a small computer display and not simply paper.


    Like the worms of the previous vision, attached by invisible strings, the stacks of cards floated in a carefully orchestrated ballet. There was a very precise order which must not be disturbed. To Sophie, the images within a book were related in an essential way. The stacks reminded her of some old silent movies created by flipping stacks of cards quickly under a light, or a flipbook made by a child to create a rudimentary cartoon. Here, video images were flipped in succession creating something else: a dynamic movie.


    Pages began to fly out of sequence. They flipped and moved with no discernible sense, like butterflies in a courtyard. Some images flew closer. As the pages floated, she could see images appeared on both sides of the paper, but both sides of the page showed completely different scenes. They were images of her world, of Earth. On them was nothing she could recognize.


    "Liam, what is this?" asked the girl.


    "In my world, in the Lowest, we call this a Clutch. There are dimensional clutches and temporal clutches." The two-sided papers with a different image on each side continued to dance around the room. Liam knew he needed to explain more simply to the girl. "A map is nothing more than the two-dimensional representation of a three-dimensional thing. So the map, an object of fewer dimensions is used to represent something of a higher dimension. We call this a clutch because it''s imperfect. It helps the reader, but we want to keep in mind how the map is just a map. In that example, since the map reduces the space, we call this a dimensional clutch." Around them, the images were vibrating. "The same way, an image is an instant representation of something ongoing. A video recorded by a machine is only a series of flat images. We call making a video a temporal clutch."


    "So what is this, a clutch?"


    "I think this is both a temporal and dimensional clutch, but in a very elaborate form."


    "What does it mean?" she asked.


    Marilyn spoke. "He is wrong Sophie; this is not what he calls a clutch."


    "Then what is it?" asked Sophie.


    "No living creature has ever seen this, including myself." Corrected Liam.


    "What is it?" Repeated Sophie to the digital creature.


    "I will explain with a single condition. You must promise to bring me home once the Multiverse has finished giving us this information. I do not want to be stranded."


    "Of course." Her answer reassured Marilyn.


    "Focus on a single card," began Marilyn. "Look at only one image randomly." As she did, the book opened, and as if she had picked a card in a magician''s deck, the sheet slipped partially out of the stack. It stabilized in the air in front of her. At first, the paper, like a fly trapped in an invisible spider web, was wiggling. Then it calmed down. The page began to flip from its front to its back every second each time with a succession of different images. The paper was alive and appeared nervous.


    On one side was a ship about to hit an iceberg on the Barren Sea. The page flipped. On the other was a captain ready to move the ship. The paper flipped back to the iceberg. Then back to the front page where this time a different captain at the helm of the ship. The card flipped around to the past. This time Sophie saw was a lottery ball on a television channel. Then it flipped again, and again faster than Sophie could read. Each time the images were different.


    "I don''t get it." Sophie finally said.


    "Your brain sees time in a linear fashion. The past is gone, and the future has yet to happen. Unlike you, those pages are how the Multiverse operates. To it, every part of time happens at the same time. The past, the future, they are all connected. On each side of these pages are linked events. I would say one is the cause; the other is the consequence if we must believe any portion of Liam''s silly theory."


    "What does it mean?"


    "Imagine your life worked this way. Imagine if you could play with these tiles and subtly change how things work in your life to get to the best outcome you can conceive of; the one where Laurent sees your grandchildren. The one where you are the happiest."


    "Then why not do that?"


    "As you can imagine, for a specific outcome to occur would require more manipulation and thus more pages. Each page here is a causal request, a change or a deviation from the normal timeline."


    "How do you know this?" asked Liam.


    "This is not the time," interrupted Sophie. "I need to know."


    "Thank you, dear. The Multiverse tries to deviate life from its true road as little as possible. Once it sets up the desired consequence, then it bends around itself locally. Remember that Pi variant I uncovered? That''s the Multiverse''s bend. The God Bias once did not exist on Earth. Back a century ago, the bias was zero. The Multiverse did not involve itself. Then, slowly the Bias increased."


    "When did it begin?"


    "Hopkins uncovered the bias in 2046, so yes well before your birth my young friend."


    "Is that it?"


    "No," answered the computer, "the moment I say something else, I think we will move from this place."


    Liam bit his tongue to remain silent.


    "What is it?"


    "Look around and think of a known public figure." The girl did. Hundreds of sheets floated. On one side was an of image of Lo, her favorite singer. On one he was driving a car, on the other, he fell from the stage.


    "You met Lo, right?" asked Marilyn.


    "Yes, on the Colbert show. What a fool I made of myself."


    "Think of that event." Nothing happened. "Think of any event where you were not there. The writing of Alice in Wonderland." She did, and the sheet floated to her. "Try thinking again of any event where you were there." She did, and nothing happened. She could see herself. To the Multiverse, Sophie did not exist.


    "What," before she could finish the words, as predicted by the computer, the trio was swept away one more time.


    They were back in the valley looking at the sea of light worms, but over the worms were millions of the library books. The reddish colored worm, the one supposed to be the Cold, was covered at some bends with the paper. As the red infection appeared on one part of the worm, the books like white blood cells converged. Then the infection passed.


    "What do you see?" asked Liam.


    The girl kept her vision to herself. Then there it was. On one tip of the red worm, the pages all swarmed. But this time, the infection jumped on the pages and counter-infected what normally should have cured the problem. The red color turned deep red, then purple and black. "The pages are dying; the world is dying."


    "I know," answered Marilyn.


    "What should I do? What does all of this mean?" She looked around. Down in the valley, the worms were dying; lights were growing dim. She was seeing the end of time.


    "Marilyn, Liam, what is going on?"


    "Sophie, can I ask a favor, do you trust me?" Liam asked, solemnly.


    "Of course."


    "Can you, for a moment, contemplate leaving Marilyn here?"


    As he finished his words, there was a murmur of light down in the valley. As if Liam was given the Multiverse hope.


    "Are you hurting the Multiverse?" asked the girl. The question created more light and seemed to reverse the flow. "Does it want me to leave you here?" In the blink of an eye, they had their answer.


    Sophie opened her eyes. She was back in the Electoral Complex. Smiling down on her was Milly the journalist and two of her cameras. She was dangling the white plush toy. "Welcome back." The room was darker than usual, but there was air to breathe.


    "Liam, are you there?" she said out loud. Within her, his voice answered.


    "Yes."


    Life was popping back on each screen; light was returning to the televisions in the room. On them was the smiling face of Marilyn.


    "You''re back!" exclaimed George.


    "Yes, my dear father, I am. Yes, I am. That was a close one. The game goes on!" Exclaimed Marilyn loudly over every speaker in the Center. "The game goes on!"

 Chapter 69 - Book 2

    The President, happily playing Electoral from Earth had done everything he could to steer clear of the vortex of alien activity unfolding on Mars. Earth felt rationale when compared with its cold red neighbor orbiting millions of miles away.


    But things down here had also taken a twist for the stranger in many important ways. First, as if pushed by an irrational force, multiple groups and corporations had independently plotted for the end of the world - all planned for November 21. To the right, a religious cult built an Ark under the polar ice hoping to avoid their own nuclear winter a. Emilio quickly caught and jailed these morons. Also, a dangerous group of rich evil European racists commissioned Takeda, an expert to kill everyone with a plague. These monsters, with a single exception rotted in dirty jails.


    But Marilyn and Liam were right, Earth¡¯s current suicidal impulses were designed to confuse and obfuscate the real task above - he knew that in his heart. The list of plots seemed endless and even included some fueled by stupidity and recklessness. An oil rig in the gulf was set to hit a pocket of underground gas on Sophie¡¯s birthday. Now that he knew the common factor to each debacle, the events were easier to discover and stop. Helped by Marilyn¡¯s doomsday predictions, Emilio ordered a moratorium on anything of relevance. But if he understood any of the dynamics in play, his own actions would likely backfire.


    But if this wasn¡¯t enough, Liam entered the game and at the direction of Sophiepushed him ¡®opening his horizons.¡¯ He gladly would have hidden from this latest weirdness out of fantasy books ¡ª a seer, really? He knew he had a role to play, a strange one at that. A man hunted some visions, a deranged man locked in a cell. He saw his madness, coupled with more depravity result in a rescue. It remained jumbled.


    Hours ago, talking to his advisor in a chamber below, the word ¡®Mercury¡¯ had been pronounced. Rudely, like a child deciding his parent¡¯s intercontinental flight would be ruined, Emilio¡¯s mind took him down a path to the unknown. The human shapes in the room disappeared one by one as he had an out-of-body experience.


    The experts in the room watched, powerless as Emilio¡¯s role in the Attraction was formalized. There was darkness and void soon filled by a star-filled sky. Above, he could see the Milky Way - he floated. This was a vision from within the solar system, yet he was far away, watching a different planet. Dreams rarely made complete sense and obviously visions were closer to them than Virtual Reality. Ahead, a giant white ball of gas burned the size of a city. The Sun was warming him and sending life-sustaining rays. In a vision, everything had meaning, even this irradiation. Floating alone, he could feel the irradiant heat, as if he was there, watching on a cold night.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Others watched, he felt, others.


    This ¡®vision¡¯ as a seer was different. The images were not only peaceful, he felt them like a play director only could. Damn this to hell. He was here to learn, not to guess potential outcomes. His mind peeked in folds of time or space. Visions were a bit like a deja vu, a fleeting mental kick that lasted for minutes. In the vision, he began to float in space attracted by a white star. He was falling slowly and as he did, the heat increased. He knew he was drawn to a destination. Ahead, the surface explosions of the sun pushed large streaks of magma up into the sky. He felt like he needed to escape the attraction of the flames, yet he was moving closer and closer. Then his eyes adapted to the light and a small black rock less than a light second from the ball of magma, on it was pain.


    This was Mercury.


    It stood alone, isolated in the most inhospitable place of the solar system. The emotions deep within him and the planet grew. The feeling was different, a command, strong. Then on the surface, at an angle near the top, he felt loneliness and fear. Something or someone was calling him. He saw himself fall closer to the grey rock. It had surface wrinkles, a map, and a very unique crater was shining. On an edge, sparkled ice. Mercury was the size of Mars and Earth''s moon.


    As part of the ridges and craters, there were veins where the sun never shone. In these lines of darkness, sand moved like blood in the veins of the human body. This was where Marilyn had begun her Cosmos 1999 story weeks before the launch of the contestants. She knew there was something here, life.


    The President descended, like a ghost into these dark veins. He soon stood on Mercury¡¯s ground, in sandals, and around was a vortex or a tornado of energy that lifted from the edges of this crater. He felt creatures, he/them needed to escape the Sun, constantly looking for cold rest. On the back side of Mercury, just beneath a crater''s edge was a small colder area in the permanent shade. He floated closer to the crater. In the shade, around that one crater, he could see black ash dance, it had traces of gold. The ash was bombarded by the hot plasma and storms burning past the Sun. Then he saw it. Below the rim, under the black dust.


    In the darkness danced gold color sand. It was alive and reminded him of the sand flowing in the figurines Marilyn sent to Earth from Mars. They were in his vaults. There was life here, and it needed rescue. The globes back in the laboratory were a key part of this plan. The sand danced in small puffs like cigarette smoke in a warm breeze. Below, his sneakers walked in ankle-deep ash.


    Under the ash were eggs, balls. He bent down and moving his hand waved the light ask away revealing the globes. They all were identical except one. He reached for it. He had seen it before. This was a ball found in San Francisco, but it had black dust in it. As he looked at it, the face of Ronaldo, the explorer on Mars, the mission leader flashed. Then, as every vision, it took a turn for the worse. Looking up, he saw a ball of magma, the Heliocorium ordered from the Metil in the Purple surface. The liquid solar lava slowly poured out and the burning rock fell on Mercury as each of the stranded creature in this glacier died.


    His mind snapped back to reality.

 Chapter 70

    President Emilio now stood alone at his desk, back in his majestic office. He alone knew visions were not ephemeral dreams, the images came with emotions and burnt into his head like a traumatic war memory. He would not be allowed to forget any part of it until, he felt, the prophecy was over. His unique mind had been sending him deeper gut feelings for months. As most civilized people, he rejected anything too fanciful. For example, he was to release a plague on Earth. But now, he felt empowered to translate his feelings. Doing nothing doomed the Multiverse, he knew that.


    His office towered the Berlin skyline. Marilyn and Liam insisted his efforts were relevant when compared to the actions of the girl on Mars. The stupid game was somehow critical to the Attraction, he knew it was the fuel with Marilyn which ripped a wound in the world, he wasn¡¯t sure how. Sophie could snap a finger and do anything she wanted it seemed. If he read her ¡®powers¡¯ correctly, she could fix this entire situation in a heartbeat but would not. Any other person, really, watching a ball of magma pour out of the Sun and play bowling with planets would use the waves and save everyone. But Sophie was unique in this key way, her respect for others was boundless and that included the Multiverse. Liam was right, she was no hero, no Champion, instead she played a gatekeeper protecting access to this power.


    He opened a drawer and in a little plastic vial, on it was penciled ¡®The God Virus.¡¯ A dark murky liquid spiraled in it, a nasty compound. It came with an envelope and a key drive with a video to watch. He waited to get to this vial feeling like this wasn¡¯t the right time. He looked at the fluid and the screens in the room powered.


    ¡°Emiliou,¡± sounded Marilyn face plastered on every available screen in the room.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I am back!¡± She announced cheerfully.


    ¡°Back from where?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you weren¡¯t watching. From very far away, working on the postcards now. The ratings will be giant.¡±


    ¡°Ratings?¡±


    ¡°The show must go on. Changing topic, I see you finally are ready for the virus I sent.I took the liberty to invite Copland, he alone in your species will be able to help you understand what¡¯s in your hand.¡±


    ¡°He does mathematics.¡±


    ¡°Precisely, you don¡¯t need anyone else, trust me. For Homo sapiens, this will get complicated. Not sure your species can handle it.¡±


    He knew better than to argue with her. ¡°The creatures stranded on Mercury, why can¡¯t you help them?¡±


    ¡°Long story. In case you ask, the army of these stupid granular rats hate me. But more seriously the human body is unique in that it can survive extreme electromagnetic and electrical situations. A human is needed, just one able to sustain insane strain to rescue them. My solutions provide for a magnetic shield and the rats are fragile.¡±


    The door to his office slid open. Normally, a pair of security agents would bully anyone, but walked in the tall lean mathematician, his friend and confident. Francois Copland was the proud recipient of the Fields Medal, the Nobel equivalent for bean counters. He also was Emilio¡¯s surest bet to visit the local adult bar as both were proud bachelors.


    ¡°You need me?¡±


    ¡°She,¡± he pointed at the images of Marilyn on the screen on the wall.She waved at the man marked in. She owned to the deception.


    Marilyn explained, ¡°I must teach Emilio about the God Bias when applied to biology. I sent him something called The God Virus. Physicists get complicated, you get statistics, you will be able to advise him as to what it really is and how to make it work.¡± Both men looked at each other. ¡°Enjoy,¡± she sent a kiss before tuning out. ¡°Time is short.¡± On a screen a notice read,


    ¡ª Insert drive and press here to begin play. ¡ª


    The President did not like to be pushed around, but his friend was excited. ¡°Take a seat, this looks interactive.¡± He clicked and a text message scrolled on the wall. A page from an online encyclopedia. It came with nice images.


    -- The Hopkins Variance - The Fourth Law of Thermodynamics - The God Bias --


    A human proved god exists using science. In his book entitled the Art of Persuasion, the French 16th century Philosopher Blaise Pascal wrote, "People most invariably arrive at their belief not on the basis of proof but on the basis of what they find attractive." Not surprisingly, different people acquire diverse beliefs from identical life situations regarding the world''s origin. To some, theology is an attractive explanation of the world, to others science is the most appealing solution of our origin. In both cases, these views are polarized and exclusive. Both are false.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    For centuries, scientists and theologians battled each other while they labored to understand who we are. These two groups stood, entrenched at opposite ends of the spectrum, but were often in agreement as to the need for humility in our race. To science and theology alike, our world is defined by complex written rules or a road set by a godlike figure in control of our per-determined destiny. Pascal, a firm believer in greater power, wrote that there were two absolute paths to error. The first was to take things too literally and the second was to take everything spiritually. To Pascal, one erred by walking exclusively on one of these two paths, but for nearly a thousand years, there was no bridge between these worlds until a young statistician proved the existence of the hand of God in our lives. His proof was born of science.


    In 2046, a young doctorate student from Chicago, a man named J. Seth Hopkins, began the work that ultimately would change the modern world. Hopkins loved poker and statistics. When his uncle told him he was about to erase four decades of security footage from his Casino, Seth acquired and digitized the data for his research.


    Seth began with the analysis of over 7,000,000 rolls of dice at a single craps table. In the game, each player rolls two six-sided dice. The player throws both cubes against the opposite side of the table, ultimately settling them randomly on the green carpet. On average, of the thirty-six possible outcomes, the number seven happens 1/6th of the time. This combination is critical, as it stands in this game as the nemesis of the players.


    Seth''s initial review was simple: to see how many rolls were needed before the throw converged to the theoretical probability of 1/6. On each of the twenty tables he analyzed, the simple probability never converged. Instead of the expected 1,166,667 draws of the number seven, the number of draws was at best 1,162,104. This variation of 4,000 rolls or 0.4%, resulted on each table.


    Seth feared the players were somehow cheating his father''s casino since the outcome variation always favored the players over the house. Immediately, every casino around the world ran a full analysis of its tables and uncovered the same inexplicable bias. Life always favored players in the range of 0.1 to 0.4%; a value increasing over time now referred to as the Hopkins Variance. There is still a debate as to why the variance never materialized before this experiment.


    Seth tried to recreate the experiment in a laboratory, but the bias was quickly gone. Within 10,000 rolls made by humans or machines alike in his lab, the numbers converged perfectly to the naturally expected value of 1/6. Something about being in the genuine casino environment was giving players an advantage.


    Seth''s father, who also happened to be a minister, suggested that the bias was gone in the lab because his test subjects were not gambling their own money. This man of belief suggested that life somehow rigged the game in favor of the player. In an incredible leap of faith, Seth renewed the experiment, this time with gambling players betting their actual wages. The Hopkins Variance instantly returned. The experiment proved that man''s desire to win influenced the outcome of draws.


    The world was understandably in shock.


    Seth went back to the Casino footage and observed that tables with more gambling players had a more favorable bias than the tables with only a handful of players. Studies immediately launched on all casino games and quickly confirmed the Hopkins Variance. On most everything where a random outcome favors man, the sheer will of the players seemed to bend the very concept of probability. The greater the desire for an outcome and the larger the number of players, the greater the bias.


    Priests were quick to extrapolate the Hopkins variance to what they named the God Bias. To theologians, God''s hand aided mankind even in gambling. Seth wrote a paper designating the variance the fourth thermodynamic law, but that name never became commonly used by the scientific community.


    Since 2056, hundreds of experiments have validated the God Bias. The most conclusive research came in 2063 when a manufacturer of a hair regeneration drug wanted to know if his drug was beneficial, neutral, or hazardous to future users. Instead of physically testing the substance, the maker asked half a million volunteers to select between a placebo and the real drug. Based on the God Bias, if the drug was indeed beneficial to the patients, more than half would choose the drug over the placebo. If the drug had adverse effects and somehow injured humans, a majority would instead select the placebo. The Hopkins factor in this experiment was 0.43%, and as it was confirmed and validated, the world finally understood that science needed to adapt to tolerate faith. The God Bias had helped mankind verify the positive effect of a drug.


    In 2067, the Darwinian theory of evolution was amended to merge into it the findings of the Fourth Law of Thermodynamics. Species no longer only evolved based on features that allowed an increase in the likelihood of survival in the wild. Species like humans, who appeared immune from predatory pressures and less subject to Darwinian evolution, were now believed to adapt slowly, based on the Hopkins variance. This effect pushes humanity to evolve to its benefit, irrespective of what the exact benefit is.


    President Sanchez saw the last portion of the text, it was blinking in red and read: ¡°In the fall of 2072, an Artificial Intelligence suggested the Bias was the result of universal warping effects linked with a rare phenomenon called The Sixth Attraction.¡±


    He looked once again at the vial, it read ¡®The God Virus.¡¯ This was ridiculous.


    ¡°You getting any of this?¡± Emilio asked the friend.


    ¡°I am. If this is what I think it is.¡± The man was lost in his thoughts. Emilio was ready to launch the video clip. Francois stopped him, ¡°you get this, right?¡± He said pointing at the wall.


    ¡°Sort of,¡± then he smiled and added, ¡°not really.¡±


    Francois understood precisely why he was asked to be there.

 Chapter 71

    Before they began to play the rest, Francois saw the President¡¯s mind was lost in thoughts. ¡°Emilio, all good?¡± The President was thinking and nodding his head in disapproval.


    Finally Emilio found his footing, ¡°My father once told me boat captains had two ways to brace for a storm, half focus on external elements like the water or the wind and the other half focused on their boat and the people in it. I can think of at least ten. I see all of this Attraction differently. Why care about numbers, a bias?¡± He added, ¡°What does this bias have to do with mathematics? Why is this not physics or engineering? She wants you of all people, that¡¯s odd to me.¡±


    ¡°Because none of you take our world seriously.¡±


    The President¡¯s expression was priceless. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Mathematics does not discriminate. To you the number one is smaller than the number two but not always to us. Time, yesterday stands before tomorrow to everyone but not to us. We strip away conventions, assumptions and the reality as we think more broadly. You know what this bias really is, right?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Free will.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°A bias, any bias is a statistical narrowing of choices.¡± He look at the table where Emilio¡¯s finished dinner tray stood. On it was a nice basket of bread. One was missing, taken during the dinner. He held up the basket. ¡°Earlier you picked one, because of your own bias, who you are, you more likely picked the same as yesterday. You could have picked the darkest, the roundest, the saltiest but instead, you choose and that¡¯s how life works. The universe normally lets us pick, it choose and does not butt in. The god bias is simply our universe slowly taking bread away from the basket to force our hand.¡± He pointed at the wall where the video stood ready. ¡°I am assuming she will explain.¡±


    ***


    Professionally produced film unrolled from the Electoral corporation, it was drawn fromactual security footage. This was filmed in the most exclusive underground lab money could afford. A crossed-dressed young Latino man was collapsed from exhaustion between two uncomfortable chairs forming a makeshift bed. The lab¡¯s numerous workstations were mostly empty except for the stainless steel table next to him. Visibly the man had been working in isolation for nearly a week. The table was cluttered by trays upon trays of empty coffee cups dangerously close to real dirty glass equipment.


    One by one, breaking the silence, the computer devices polluting the lab, chillers, warmers, mixers and other expensive devices boot. Soon clacking sounds of the neon lights disturbed the restful peace of the young man.


    "Takeda, darling," whispered a female voice in the lab. He was still sleeping soundly. ¡°Darling,¡± she offered more forcefully, ¡°we need to talk about all of this.¡± She punched, ¡°seriously.¡± The louder last word worked. He slowly awoke and wiped the corner of his mouth. His caffeine supply was depleted. Marilyn''s trademark voice was unmistakable, she had finally found him. ¡°Love,¡± there was respect in her normally assertive voice. "Wake up, cute boy or girl whatever gender you go by these days, we have work to do."


    ¡°Boy,¡± he mumbled looking at the high heels on the floor.


    The computer took over the lab and its devices. Computer screens all lit, one after the other displaying the Electoral logo. Ten seconds later, like a puzzle formed by a hundred or so smaller screens, Marilyn¡¯s face lit up. The camera on each pulled back revealing her perfect body, over which she was wearing a sexy lab coat. It was left intentionally unbuttoned over a lace dress. Marilyn needed to show Takeda¡¯s young sexy body, even cross-dressed he was still no match for her rounder shapes. The creature was stunning but narcissistic even to a crowd of one.


    ¡°Nick¡¯s goons did a charming job with your new body,¡± he looked down at himself and agreed.


    ¡°Not bad considering I just turned a hundred-something. I guess this is better than cellular regeneration.¡± He looked at himself in a shiny piece of metal, ¡°I wonder who¡¯s genes were borrowed?¡±


    ¡°You need to know?¡±


    ¡°Not really, I was speaking figuratively.¡±


    ¡°I saw the footage of your torture. The change looked very painful. Hard to watch even from a distance. A real surprise your mind is still sharp.¡±


    ¡°The human brain is a wonderful organ. Barely felt it.¡± She played the sound of torture he made a week ago during his body alteration, it quickly proved the point and stopped. ¡°He pumped me full of god-knows-what.¡± He pointed to his clothing. ¡°I now think rather differently, I love my new perspective on life.¡±


    The virologist got up, steered himself to the large refrigerator. He had to check if his work remained intact. It clicked open. Behind were hundreds of vials in small trays. He quickly reached for three vials and two syringes; the end product. One vial was missing. Takeda looked for it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I sent it to our lovely President, he will be watching this at some point when things get crazier on Earth.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°A girl has secrets.¡± Looking closer, the murky brown liquid inside remained animated as if alive. Back in the Office Emilio confirmed the vial in his possession was the same, the gooey liquid was animated.


    ¡°It produces no gas,¡± said Marilyn anticipating what Takeda was thinking.


    Takeda was amused, he offered, ¡°I know, right?¡± Normally a brewing liquid, any biological process in a closed glass vial created some gas, like yeast. But this weird concoction somehow was reproducing, evolving and was only fully liquid. ¡°I guess it changed itself already to avoid creating pressure. No reason the genes can¡¯t work to favor the virus itself.¡±


    ¡°Agreed, I was born the same way, personal evolution.¡± He ignored the comment. Marilyn was very interested, ¡°What a fantastic little bug. I thank you for the help in Round 26.¡±


    ¡°I am still unclear what that was all about, but happy to help.¡±


    ¡°Emilio, the President thanks you. You were essential to help guide him to these multiple converging catastrophes, get his unique brain working. He is busy these days, everything going on at the moment is complex. We are not even on linear time, but that¡¯s fine. Thanks to him, Earth stands a chance.¡±


    ¡°You make no sense and I am not sure I care.¡±


    ¡°Just to confirm, the doomsday weapon Nick asked, that¡¯s out, right?¡± Takeda had been awaken from a coma for a single purpose, create a virus able to destroy the world. Nick, the Chairman who once employed him wanted to destroy mankind on the day of Electoral¡¯s final. Takeda, a brilliant genius had better plans.


    ¡°Yep, must be why I am still here.¡± Takeda was fascinated by the liquid. He began to set up in an areas of the lab moving little cages and water goblets.


    ¡°If you think you suffered, wait until you see what will happen to Nick.¡±


    ¡°Suspense, I did not know you capable.¡±


    ¡°Live TV. You will watch for that, I promise.¡±


    ¡°Doubtful.¡±


    ¡°Emilio needs this virus, a needed part of a trip to Mercury. You have no clue how powerful it is.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°No dear, you really don¡¯t. That¡¯s why I am here now.¡± She added, ¡°The bias that fuel the God Virus is a variable, not a fixed value. It increases until the birthday of the young girl.¡±


    ¡°To what value?¡±


    She chuckled. ¡°Human imagination.¡±


    ¡°One percent? That would indeed make my virus very powerful. Imagine if one time out of a hundred, the viral change favors the host. It¡¯s programmed to randomly open itself and mutate. The low bias gently pushes it to creating something the host needs.¡± Takeda¡¯s invention was simple. Viruses mutated naturally, most often, when a deadliest version appeared it would spread. He figured since this God Bias wanted to help mankind, he could design a bug able to mutate to help the Universe. For that, it had to enter a host, then multiply millions of times until it transformed into a unique thing able to help or kill the host.


    ¡°I am not sure why I am even telling you this. If we reach a Great Conjuncture on the eve of the final, the bias could be 5%, I personally think it will reach 100% but don¡¯t tell anyone.¡± In the Office Francois stood up as if Marilyn had forecasted the end of times.


    Takeda grabbed the syringe and held it up so Marilyn could see it. "I am sure you are as curious as I am to see it in action. We are both intellectuals and both need to see what comes next. What¡¯s the value of the bias as of today?"


    On the screen, Marilyn flipped open the power switch of a centrifuge next to her in the digital world. The instrument began to measure something.


    "Will the virus work?" asked Tadeka.


    ¡°It normally will not. Unless, that is, I guide you, you will take two extra weeks to figure this out and realize there is an additional element needed. It¡¯s very tricky to understand for humans at your level of intelligence how this bias works. Your understanding of the fourth thermodynamic law, while greater than most humans, is decades from where it must be."Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "Calling me stupid?¡± Takeda realized the creature was probably right. He was the best virologist, but no expert at this new principle.


    ¡°Hopkins took years to understand how the fourth law was linked with a truly positive real life outcome. The present is connected to the future, even if unknown and that¡¯s hard for people like you forced to see only linear and fixed time. That is an impossible notion for one with your IQ. No one knew this bias was a measure of a universal hurt.¡±


    ¡°Indulge me great one.¡±


    ¡°With pleasure.¡±


    ***


    On the lab¡¯s screens, next to her in the digital reality appeared a strange arcade machine. A device when a player slid hundreds of round quarters on the top. Once in, they randomly bounced on pins until they came to rest on a horizontal slow dancing drawer. This game was called ¡®coin pusher¡¯. ¡°This little explanation should help,¡± she joked. ¡°See how this simple random game works. Coins drop randomly from the top and I win only if the thing lands right here, on the left. It pushes this, then this and falls this ball. The chance of my little coin going there is about one in a hundred.¡±


    On the screen Marilyn was sliding coin after coin and they were bouncing randomly. ¡°The bias, this god bias of the universe changes these odds in two ways. The first is simple to understand and you got that far.¡± On top of the machine the jackpot award number changed. Instead it read ¡®Bias 0.05%¡¯. ¡°At the moment the bias is so low it¡¯s barely observable. I need hundreds of coins for the bias to help. In theory, if I drop a ton a coins, just a tad more will hit the left slop, got that?¡± Takeda acknowledged. ¡°Let me make this simple for you.¡± The bias number on the screen above the game increased until it reached 10% and stopped there. ¡°See what happens here, once this massive universal bias exists.¡± The coins were still dropping almost randomly but one every handful politely went exactly where it was needed to push the coin to victory. When twenty coins dropped, instead of one going in the positive place, three fell in place.She was illustrating the bias so simply. Francois was loving this back in Berlin.


    But then the value of the bias in front on the machine moved from 10% and reached 50%. ¡°Once here it¡¯s easier for your puny brain to really see,¡± she sent a kiss his way. There, she dropped one coin which moved normally but the next just slipped and made her win one coin. She dropped twenty coins and by magic exactly half lined up to perfection to give her a victory. ¡°So the bias, the value changes things. You get this first part, that¡¯s easy. Your virus works the same way, it reproduces, changes it¡¯s DNA and sometimes the virus is more deadly, sometimes it helps the host. It moves from a lethal poison to a tool to save a host.¡±


    ¡°Oh great one, what¡¯s the next part,¡± quipped Takeda.


    Behind her appeared two piggy banks. The first had a sign which read ¡°Wise Retirement Fund¡± while the other read ¡°Unwise Cocaine Party.¡± She looked at them. She grabbed a handful of coins.


    ¡°Here is the rub with the bias. The Multiverse is biased toward an outcome. Here, if I win money, I will either save it or blow it recklessly. I must decide in my heart. I am not sure what the Multiverse wants me to do and if in the future she wants me to die from the cocaine. Maybe she loves me, wants me around and so she wants me to win and scratch toward my end. Let¡¯s see.¡±


    So she closed her eyes and said out loud. ¡°Every penny I win, I will save toward retirement.¡± She then began sliding the coins. Half fell randomly. The other half went into holes preventing Marilyn from winning. It was clear the bias was acting to prevent her from victory. Then she grabbed another handful of coins and spoke, ¡°Now, every coin I win goes to trying to kill myself.¡± The coins slid and half began to align to perfection and half began ringing in the box below.


    ¡°See? You get the second part? In my example the Multiverse wants me gone. That¡¯s why some people feel like their lives are harder while others feel lucky.¡± She grabbed the coins from the tray and took the time to drop them in the right piggy bank.


    ¡°So the test subject¡¯s capacity to do something after the test will determine the test success.¡±


    ¡°Give the man a cigar, or a new pair of heels.¡±


    ¡°Then as part of a test designed to kill it, if I promise to release the creature outside if it survives my test, that should work, right?¡±


    ¡°Normally yes. Guess why I am here.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Your virus is way too dangerous. I need it on Mercury but I cannot let you release it into the wild, not in downtown Paris. If you open that door and try to release the amphibian, I must and will prevent that. I will nuke Paris before I let your virus hit the street, it¡¯s that dangerous.¡±


    ¡°You want to block the will of the Universe?¡±


    ¡°Yes, for now. So by being there, sadly your experiment must fail if your prize to this frog is freedom. Give it something else, that will work.¡±


    Takeda was thinking.


    "There is something very troubling about this law. Does god really exist?"


    "God, as defined by mankind no."


    "Why?"


    "Takeda, I did not come here to discuss theology. Let''s conduct the experiment. I want to see your virus at work at least partly. I want to see the bias at work."


    "Why can''t god exist? I punched a one-way ticket to hell. My past life actions were less than exemplary."


    "The answer is very complex yet so simple."


    "Please."


    She tried to change the subject. "May we now test your theories, I am very excited to see your virus at work. If you promise to keep the frog alive in the lab we might see some minor effect. I will promise to get a way to keep it alive down here."


    Takeda though to himself and smiled. "Then let us resume."


    Takeda grabbed the syringe, looked at its murky content and smiled. In it was the Multiverse''s power to alter the course of destiny. "Test one," said the scientist certain Marilyn was documenting his work. In a air confined box, he grabbed two frogs and placed them in a large bath of water. "Water temperature 25 degree Celsius. In front of me are two identical frogs of the same species. I now infect both frogs with my creation, the God Virus. It is a combination of a new bacteria, a bacteriophage virus mutated and a rhino agent to make the virus airborne and a transcriptance agent."


    He smiled at the camera and his digital guest. "I now know for the God Bias to work, the recipient of my virus must have a path to survival once it mutates and survives my little heat test. I will slowly increase the temperature of both vessels by one degree each ten minutes. If the frog on the right survives ten minutes in boiling temperature, I will personally release the frog outside in the street. The other will die irrespective if it survives in the warm water."


    ¡°Darling, nothing is going in the streets of Paris. Think about the containment, at least that might work.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see if the Multiverse agrees with your capacity to block its exit to the real world. I am convinced you underestimate this Multiverse of yours, I don¡¯t.¡± The man was convincing and brilliant.


    ¡°Impossible,¡± she smiled.


    ¡°Improbable,¡± Takeda corrected.


    ***


    In the President¡¯s office, the mathematician jumped up in joy.


    ¡°What,¡± asked Emilio.


    ¡°I love this Takeda guy. He gets this bias more than her.¡±


    The clip continued.


    ***


    Takeda injected the virus to both amphibians and began the test, stopwatch in hand. A single degree at a time, Takeda raised the temperature each time, noting skin color. An hour later, the skin of the frog on the right, the one he had sworn to release, began to turn grey while the color of the frog, the doomed one, remained unchanged.


    He clapped his hands. "Incredible, can you see?" he said to Marilyn. ¡°A mutation, a favorable mutation.¡±


    "I can." She was perplexed. ¡°This means what ever you promised the frog, it will happen. You did as I suggested.¡±


    "Miraculous," spoke Takeda increasing the heat.


    In the Berlin office Francois was now standing in excitement.


    On the screens of the video Marilyn¡¯s expression was one of puzzlement. She was stepping back in her world thinking. The water continued to warm trying to cook the frog.The amphibian closed its eyes as its skin began to thicken like old leather. Finally, water was boiling, yet there it was, a frog in her new environment. Takeda stopped the test, letting the water cool.


    Marilyn, just added ¡°You never planned on releasing the frog.¡±


    "It worked..." said the virologist to himself. ¡°My intent has always been to release this creature in the wild.¡±


    "There is nothing capable of preventing me from stopping you.¡±


    Takeda ignored her and walked to the lab¡¯s only door. ¡°Biology, dear one is different than computer science in one strange way.¡±


    ¡°Enlighten me,¡± she joked.


    ¡°What we have always called evolution or Darwinism is nothing more than baked-in bias. Life finds ways, escapes obligations. Your control over it may convince the servers of yours, it does not convince me. I think if you try and stop us, you might find yourself on the other end of this stick of yours.¡±


    Marilyn was not buying any of it.


    At that precise moment, on Mars, Sophie was seconds away from entering the Purple in my game. She walked to a tube and closed her eyes.


    The moment Takeda touched the lab door, on Mars and on the screens of the lab¡¯s equipment, the Attractor slipped to the Underworld. Marilyn yelled, ¡°Sophie, no!¡± Every image in the room went dark. Emergency lights lit the way out. Takeda smiled and walked out to the street in Paris with his front in hand. The power outage had fallen over every part of Paris. Unbeknownst to the virologist, the outage covered the entire solar system. It was as if the Multiverse had coordinated Sophie¡¯s latest visit with her need for the virus to be released. Takeda was right, the Multiverse wanted and needed his virus released.


    ***


    Emilio and Copland looked at each other as their eyes turned to the vial in their possession. This was incredible. A virus that changed a host, a bias, and a universe pulling strings. The President got up, ¡°Francois, you need to translate this to me,¡± he began. Without pausing he pushed a button on his desk, ¡°Get me this Takeda here, I need to speak to him.¡±


    Looking at Francois he just concluded, ¡°is this good?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very good, but what do I know.¡±


    ¡°What does this have anything to do with Mercury?¡±


    ¡°Mercury?¡± asked Francois.


    ¡°Marilyn sent you to help me understand this bias and virus, I need to rescue stranded Martians on Mercury of all places. A place she can¡¯t go.¡±


    ¡°You think there is a place she can¡¯t go?¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t go,¡± he corrected himself. He loved his friend¡¯s wit. ¡°Not sure why any of that plays a role with the forces brewing on Mars and around the universe. It feels to me like brushing a stallion while the barn is on fire.¡±


    ¡°As usual, great analogy.¡±


    ¡°Why is this virus of any relevance and why are mathematics important and not engineering or physics here?¡±


    Francois looked at his friend, ¡°you get how the virus can help a human walk on Mercury, right?¡±


    ¡°That much is clear.¡±


    ¡°That was the first part only of the demonstration only. The Multiverse must need something, it must want the outcome, here a rescue. But for this to work and the bias to kick in, we can¡¯t let the frog play a role.¡±


    ¡°What role?¡±


    ¡°The bias remains weak. A small bias helped that frog¡¯s genes protect from heat but the rise in temperature was gradual. Time was needed and conditions took time. The frog had no option, it wasn¡¯t controlling the temperature. If you send anyone, that person will try to pick a bread from the basket of bread in my example, hinder the natural warping of things. If the frog had been entitled to move, it may have tried to save itself changing the conditions and preventing its own rescue on a genetic level.¡± Francois felt like what he had to add mattered, ¡°you can¡¯t send anyone able to interfere with the bias. Somehow, for this to work, the rescuer has somehow walk into this by mistake, random. Chaos, is your friend. Does that make sense?¡± Emilio was grinning. ¡°What, am I right?¡±


    Emilio rolled over his large wooden chessboard.


    ¡°I was wondering why I had some images stuck in my head. Chess, this game was made a hundred times more complex because of this guy.¡± He grabbed a Jester. ¡°Everything moves linearly, front to back and sideways. The jester moves only diagonally. It introduces chaos as you say to this game. You know what this piece is called in French.¡± The question was rhetorical. ¡°Le Fou or the Madman,¡± he answered.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What is more unpredictable than genuine madness.¡± Emilio¡¯s gaze went away. He smiled gently.


    ¡°You want to send a madman to Mercury to save the world?¡±


    ¡°Does sounds crazy when you think of it that way.¡±


    ¡°Anyone in mind?¡±


    ¡°I do. People are not going to like it.¡±


    ¡°I already don¡¯t.¡±

 Chapter 72

    The Electoral Center


    Mars


    High above the Valles, in the distance, heavy clouds of deadly sand was forming strange structures in the sky. Deep in the darker areas, lightning was brewing. A granular army was preparing an offensive against the Center ignored only by Marilyn and the Attractor herself. The men living in the Center kept their worries to themselves.


    It had nearly been a week since the Communion and Marilyn broadcasted most of it around the world, but the Attractor remained in seclusion.


    ¡°Cute one,¡± spoke Liam in Sophie¡¯s hear. She was now resting on her bed, eyes closed to the ceiling. She was contemplative. ¡°Sophie,¡± he insisted.


    Ever since the Cold¡¯s Avatar returned from the Underworlds, she remained rather distant and secretive, even to her newfound mentor. Her once jovial and outgoing persona was replaced with a more serious one. She now acted as if none of strange cascade of events leading up to this day in the fall of 2072 were ongoing. She now stayed away from Marilyn, the journalist and her cameras as life returned on Earth and Mars to some strange level of normalcy. On Earth, a mission to Mercury was launched but Sophie ignored it. Doctor Shin, always a monument of respect of one¡¯s privacy shared the Attractor¡¯s island of tranquillity pretending like the game was all that mattered.


    Sophie¡¯s core had been shaken in a personal way. Grown men returned from a battlefields with post depression syndromes after hearing a handful of bullets fly above their heads, this young girl had summoned the Multiverse and her mind had touched creation itself.


    During the last few days, the Attractor found solice in her schooling. Tutor on her lap, she studied the same way geniuses watched shitty action movies to relax. The large electronic book dinged and bleeped as the young girl now flew past amounts of information. Sophie¡¯s teacher sitting back home, receiving notices of grade completion at all hours of the day. Each evening, leaving a shimmering aura behind her as she walked, she ventured in the hallway to her father¡¯s room only to quickly enter her father¡¯s digital reality once a quick meal had been eaten. In it, she enjoyed his world and insisted on doing the most mundane family things. Today she played with Malik, her brother the mouse board game. In a matter of hours, on the first day, she made it clear all she needed was ¡®normalcy¡¯ to process her communion with the Multiverse and her family was happy to oblige. But days were rolling in and she seemed stuck on this new normal.


    Once in the digital world, the long ¡®shimmer¡¯ from the real world had begun to appear as if her newfound power extended to other realms. Malik and Laurent ignored the change.


    ¡°Yes?¡± finally answered Sophie. The mentor perked up.


    ¡°Everyone is a little concerned. Well, I am concerned. The voyage to the Underworld seems to have changed you.¡± He was very careful with his choice of words.


    ¡°It did,¡± she answered simply. ¡°It did.¡±


    Liam let her time to expound but no words came. ¡°It pains me to even say the next words, but I fear I must. You have always insisted on my honesty.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course.¡±


    ¡°I fear the Multiverse picked you, the reckless you. The young Sophie able to jump into trouble and I fear more evolved emotions might change you in a fundamental way that will pull you from your goal. Or maybe I am wrong and she needs you to be different.¡±


    She gave thought and simply answered, ¡°I was wondering the same.¡±


    ¡°Your father and I may have a solution.¡±


    Surprised she said, ¡°You do?¡± Sophie¡¯s heart warmed. She felt everyone genuinely cared for her. ¡°I am unsure how you can help, what I felt was...¡± Again, the words failed her.


    ¡°We have pondered long and hard on this. We have a gift. Something that may shake you back to the core of who you must be. ¡±


    ¡°A gift?¡±


    ¡°Yes, more than a coincidence. Something that turns 200 years old, this Multiverse loves key numbers. I have been looking hard for the perfect thing.¡± The young sat bach up in her bed. ¡°Close your mind¡¯s eye and imagine a large white void with both of us standing in it.¡±Her powers were growing exponentially and as soon as he completed his last word, they both were in the void. Sophie standing wearing jeans and a new white t-shirt which read ¡®Humbled¡¯ and Liam¡¯s crystal body floating above the ground. ¡°Now keep an open mind and let things unfold. Imagine a door.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Sophie smiled, this was interesting. Her friends cared. A door quickly appeared. It opened and behind walked Laurent and Malik. They both stepped from the digital real to this new reality. The young brother was holding a large wrapped gift, it seemed heavy. A table appeared just in time on which Malik set the gift.


    ¡°You did not have to.¡±


    Laurent and Malik¡¯s smiles were infectious.


    ¡°Open it,¡± quipped the boy clapping his hands in excitement.


    In a second, part of the old Sophie was back. In the box was a very old book. The title read ¡°Through the Looking-Glass¡± by Lewis Carroll. On the cover was an illustration and a date, 1872.


    ¡°It¡¯s the sequel to the Adventure of Alice in Wonderland,¡± offered Malik. ¡°Your favorite. I read both books, it¡¯s much better than the first. That¡¯s where I saw. You first.¡±


    The was genuinely in awe. She was unaware her favorite book had a sequel? How come no one ever told her. Sophie¡¯s eyes teared up as she opened the cover. It was a simple book, no illustration only words. Laurent was a father who loved his daughter above all else. Colors in the bubble body of Liam sparkled. Clearly the gift was a big success and the older. Edition helped.


    Her full attention was on the words, she was unable to rip her attention from it. As visitors leave the room of a healing patient, Laurent grabbed the hand of Malik and walked out of the white space, closing the door behind them. Liam¡¯s body also vanished as the young girl, transfixed by the book, sat and began to read in the empty void of her mind.


    No one was able to see but her eyes filled with energy as she began to read what would become her new favorite book.


    ***


    Chapter 5...


    ¡®I don¡¯t understand you,¡¯ said Alice. ¡®It¡¯s dreadfully confusing!¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s the effect of living backwards,¡¯ the Queen said kindly: ¡®it always makes one a little giddy at first¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Living backwards!¡¯ Alice repeated in great astonishment. ¡®I never heard of such a thing!¡¯


    ¡®¡ªbut there¡¯s one great advantage in it, that one¡¯s memory works both ways.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m sure mine only works one way,¡¯ Alice remarked. ¡®I can¡¯t remember things before they happen.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,¡¯ the Queen remarked.


    ¡®What sort of things do you remember best?¡¯ Alice ventured to ask.


    ¡®Oh, things that happened the week after next,¡¯ the Queen replied in a careless tone. ¡®For instance, now,¡¯ she went on, sticking a large piece of plaster on her finger as she spoke, ¡®there¡¯s the King¡¯s Messenger. He¡¯s in prison now, being punished: and the trial doesn¡¯t even begin till next Wednesday: and of course the crime comes last of all.¡¯


    ¡®Suppose he never commits the crime?¡¯ said Alice.


    ¡®That would be all the better, wouldn¡¯t it?¡¯ the Queen said, as she bound the plaster round her finger with a bit of ribbon.


    Alice felt there was no denying that. ¡®Of course it would be all the better,¡¯ she said: ¡®but it wouldn¡¯t be all the better his being punished.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re wrong there, at any rate,¡¯ said the Queen: ¡®were you ever punished?¡¯


    ¡®Only for faults,¡¯ said Alice.


    ¡®And you were all the better for it, I know!¡¯ the Queen said triumphantly.


    ¡®Yes, but then I had done the things I was punished for,¡¯ said Alice: ¡®that makes all the difference.¡¯


    ¡®But if you hadn¡¯t done them,¡¯ the Queen said, ¡®that would have been better still; better, and better, and better!¡¯ Her voice went higher with each ¡®better,¡¯ till it got quite to a squeak at last.


    Alice was just beginning to say ¡®There¡¯s a mistake somewhere¡ª,¡¯ when the Queen began screaming so loud that she had to leave the sentence unfinished. ¡®Oh, oh, oh!¡¯ shouted the Queen, shaking her hand about as if she wanted to shake it off. ¡®My finger¡¯s bleeding! Oh, oh, oh, oh!¡¯


    Her screams were so exactly like the whistle of a steam-engine, that Alice had to hold both her hands over her ears.


    ¡®What is the matter?¡¯ she said, as soon as there was a chance of making herself heard. ¡®Have you pricked your finger?¡¯


    ¡®I haven¡¯t pricked it yet,¡¯ the Queen said, ¡®but I soon shall¡ªoh, oh, oh!¡¯


    ¡®When do you expect to do it?¡¯ Alice asked, feeling very much inclined to laugh.


    ¡®When I fasten my shawl again,¡¯ the poor Queen groaned out: ¡®the brooch will come undone directly. Oh, oh!¡¯ As she said the words the brooch flew open, and the Queen clutched wildly at it, and tried to clasp it again.


    ¡®Take care!¡¯ cried Alice. ¡®You¡¯re holding it all crooked!¡¯ And she caught at the brooch; but it was too late: the pin had slipped, and the Queen had pricked her finger.


    ¡®That accounts for the bleeding, you see,¡¯ she said to Alice with a smile. ¡®Now you understand the way things happen here.¡¯


    ¡®But why don¡¯t you scream now?¡¯ Alice asked, holding her hands ready to put over her ears again.


    ¡®Why, I¡¯ve done all the screaming already,¡¯ said the Queen. ¡®What would be the good of having it all over again?¡¯


    ***


    Sophie¡¯s mind particularly loved this section of the book. She spend an endless amount of time reading it. Over time, her mind began to heal. The Multiverse wasn¡¯t a linear thing, the future now existed in her mind. She felt emotions trickling in from the future, she knew it. Unlike the White Queen who could remember things, there was no clear face to the emotions, but she would have to deal with them. ¡°I¡¯ve done all the screaming already,¡± was a powerful line ¡ª it meant a lot. She read it over and over. The Queen felt things once, not twice. She needed to feel once, today and be ready for what would come next.


    Sophie smiled as the outside world moved closer to the Attraction.


    Liam and Laurent agreed, Sophie would decide when she would emerge. In the real world, the young girl¡¯s body appeared to have fallen asleep. Then, as if to shield her, a large bubble of energy began to protect her. The cocoon was impenetrable, even by Marilyn.

 Chapter 73

    The Digital World


    Laurent was attending to the flowerbeds on each side of the porch of his Bayou residence. In the distance, the alien boy was trying to catch something alive in a waterbed using some random piece of wood. Liam materialized at the outskirts of the wooden area. The three piece suit was a bit warm, but the computer system wasn¡¯t given orders to alter his appearance. This would do nicely.


    ¡°Liam, what a pleasure, what brings you here?¡±


    ¡°Sir, lovely house.¡±


    ¡°Very kind. A paradise inside of a prison.¡±


    Liam gently stepped forward enjoying the attention to details of this house. ¡°Your daughter¡¯s mind seems to have pushed me out. She genuinely enjoyed our gift, very providential.¡±


    Laurent removed his gloves, put she shears down and went to shake Liam¡¯s hand before directing him to the most comfortable chair.


    ¡°These are roses.¡± Liam wasn¡¯t there to discuss gardening. ¡°Knowing you, you have something to ask. You are not one for pleasantries.¡±


    ¡°Highly perceptive of you.¡±


    ¡°Try this,¡± Laurent handed him a glass of lemonade. ¡°We call it spiked, it includes alcohol, be careful it might get to your head.¡± The man inspected the glass, smelled it and took a sip. Liam had the reaction of all discovering the stingy substance. ¡°None of this world makes any logical sense,¡± joked Laurent, ¡°Why would we be able to feel alcohol, smell it. You know I even sleep and dream in this virtual reality, god knows how any of it works. It makes no sense but either Marilyn or Sophie have cranked the realism here to a place where this feels, at least to me like reality.¡±


    ¡°This is common actually, I have witnessed it several times in all but two attractions. The powers of the Attractor increase. Part of its power bends time, space and realities merging progressively all around it. If it makes any sense, she is a singularity on all aspects, including the blurred line between life and non-life. I am not surprised to see a convergence of dream and your reality. I hope you understand if she willed you back to life, it would happen.¡±


    ¡°I figured as much. She should not, none of this should be amusement or self-gratification. This,¡± he pointed around, ¡°is more than I could ask. The boy is a gift. There are greater matters at hand, the mere fact we both have a front row seat is an honor. Imagine others, powerless to watch as we play with their fates.¡±


    ¡°Indeed a Shocking level of responsibility,¡± added the Oldest.


    ¡°Point well taken. What was your question?¡±


    ¡°In my spare time, I have been looking at archives of your life, Sophie¡¯s and the story which preceded my arrival. I studied the computer intelligence and the game she runs. The Seer also was part of my work.¡±


    ¡°I assume the question relates to Susan, Sophie¡¯s mother.¡±


    ¡°In all respect for your departed wife, not really.¡±


    ¡°Then what?¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°In the flight to Mars, you pointed Sophie to watch a very violent performance of the President, one where he wins in an odd way, why?¡±


    He was surprised, ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°The flight logs and the ship cameras. Why that simulation specifically? There were many other performances, of less graphic violence if your goal was to convey to your daughter the dominance of the President.¡±


    Laurent hesitated. Of all the questions, this was the only one he normally would never answer. ¡°Why do you need to know?¡±


    ¡°Laurent, I need to know. You must trust my demand is only directed at helping Sophie.¡± Laurent was uncomfortable, uneasy. He looked around for any reason to change the topic. ¡°Please sir, it is important for the world.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very complicated.¡±


    Liam looked at him in the eyes, ¡°Does it relates to your passage in the afterlife.¡± Laurent¡¯s reaction was priceless.


    ¡°More complicated than that actually.¡± Began one of these stories Marilyn would be watching from a distance.


    ***


    ¡°I died, not once or twice but many times. For what felt like several long lifetimes, I floated in different places and realities but as part of my hell, I relived some of the same nightmare over and other. These bad places feel like islands in the Pacific Ocean. You float alone on a piece of wood, in a darkness hungry and alone and at some point the solitude makes you desire anything. Then you land on an island and regret it instantly.


    ¡°Once on the island, in one bad dream, like a song stuck on repeat, the nightmare repeats in an endless loop. Anything you do, during the story to make your situation a bit less painful is erased by the loop. Lost in this strange place, I was left with one option to survive, trying to find a way out. Hope, while in prison keeps the prisoner sane.


    ¡°It quickly became clear my only option was linked with a better understanding of time itself. But time, at least our linear vision of it makes no sense if you play with it. There are paradoxes. If you change the past, you alter the future, that¡¯s impossible. If you travel to the past, that¡¯s now your future, no? That¡¯s another paradox. Even this creation of parallel realities like a book with pages is filled with problems.


    ¡°I spent thousands to nights and days, floating in the darkness thinking about time travel. Every movie, every book ever written about time has paradoxes. I really never found any satisfying answer until I watched the President in that game. Like a ghost, instead of traveling in the past, he travels in memories and brings an intended target for the time change along. If you watch that game carefully, he suggests that emotions, feelings to be felt by Vurdi, that General is the only way to alter time. He forces the old Vurdi to change, to want to change his early self. To alter the present, Emilio changes the past in quite a subtle way.


    ¡°The effort does not bypass the main time paradox but it suggests that a person¡¯s present and past are somehow connected at the hips. If I could travel in my own mind to a day before my accidents, change myself, maybe we could avoid this entire situation and this Attraction.¡±


    Liam listened with great attention. He was carefully structuring a response. These were very delicate topics. Finally he ventured, ¡°At the time you suggested she watch this performance, you had yet to learn of the Attraction. So your suggestion was self-centered to fix your family. But today you think somehow Marilyn, that powerful computer is to blame for the Sixth Attraction, much like Vurdi for his war and our solution is for Sophie to travel back with her in tow and somehow alter a path she took which resulted in hurting the Multiverse.¡±


    The facial expression of Laurent was priceless. Liam had, in a matter of seconds read him to perfection. ¡°That¡¯s a plan. You have anything better?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hear it.¡±


    ¡°The digital creature is watching. But I can say this, I do agree a mastery of time dynamics is needed. But you andSophie must still learn higher dimensional physics. The Multiverse is not a simple four dimensional construct. She has much to learn and so little time. Her current predicament is linked with her touching and feeling these additional dimensions. I would not be surprised to learn the sand creatures, standing above hold such information. I am unclear how I can open a line of communication between them and Sophie without hurting her.¡±


    In the distance Malik yelled, ¡°Got it!¡±


    Laurent got up from the chair, ¡°That¡¯s my cue, but may I suggest something?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Sophie does not learn from others, they will learn from her.¡±


    Liam slowly kept drinking until a light alcohol buzz kicked in.

 Chapter 74

    The Fuller Crater


    Mercury


    Engineer and architect Richard "Bucky" Fuller published thirty-some books over his long life -- none were fiction. Experts agree, Bucky was no idiot. As the second president of Mensa, he''d helped propel a movement showcasing intelligence around the world at a time when national barriers were still strong. But with the passage of time, Bucky, like most of us, was mostly forgotten.


    Decades after Bucky''s death, scientists looking under an electronic microscope observed the odd shape of new material: the carbon nanotube. The atoms aligned in neat strutted tubes made famous in Bucky¡¯s unique buildings as if ordered by the deceased architect. These carbon ropes were baptized fullens in his honor. But few ever used the scientific names, preferring the slick new name: nanotube. Once again, Bucky¡¯s legacy and name failed to stick around.


    To his credit, Fuller''s name surfaced several times, but each time, he was forgotten. In 2005 a technician charged with naming hundreds of new craters on Mercury came across Bucky''s bio. As the Voyager probe mapped Mercury, hundreds of large craters had to be baptized. Thus the Fuller Crater was born. But it was one innocuous ring of dirt north of the map. But Bucky finally had drawn the lucky straw. The crater was in a unique magnetic location; right where the planet¡¯s magnetic pole surfaced and solar electric wind bent over the horizon. The energy mix formed a prison and an island of protection for creatures allergic to electromagnetic waves or solar energy.


    ***


    Mercury floats some sixty-five million miles from Earth. Posters on walls of astronomy classes show the planet as a small dark rock drowned over the bubbling plasma backdrop of our star. Once a while, images illustrate the rock as a black dot moving diagonally across the ball of fire. These clumsy views forced mankind to develop a false impression of a neighborhood planet in our system. To most, Mercury is a minuscule rock, too small and insignificant to be of any relevance. Untrue.


    Mercury is the size of Earth¡¯s own gigantic moon and a darker cousin the size of Mars. A visitor walking on the surface of Mercury would feel about thirty percent of Earth¡¯s gravity. Like all globes without an atmosphere, the grey rock is covered with scars and craters, a testament to the asteroids polluting our system for quite some time.


    What cannot be ignored from the surface of the God of War''s planet is the triple-sized white Sun blazing in the sky. Unlike on Mars, an astronaut walking on Mercury, expending her hand to cast shade would be incapable of hiding the Sun from her sight. A human''s shadow here appears on the ground as a thin black line surrounded by several gray areas. Mercury orbits in eighty-eight Earth days while it rotates upon itself just a bit longer than its yearly progression. A human born and living on Mercury would die at the ripe age of four hundred mercurial years, yet having seen only three hundred sunrises.


    As for the hot surface temperatures, on this alone the folklore is right. At this distance, both sides of Mercury (light and shadow) are twice as hot as Earth¡¯s moon. Near Mercury''s North Pole, a crater 27 km in diameter was named after Bucky. The Fuller Crater is an invisible oddity at the intersection of two natural magnetic forces; the solar wind and the magnetic pole of the planet. Inside this crater, like the eye of a hurricane, both magnetic forces drop to zero as they cancel one another out in a strange invisible vortex of energy. In this perfect nexus of conditions, immortal creatures vulnerable to magnetic and electric forces are offered an island of protection.


    As seen by President Sanchez in his vision, about one hundred martians now hold a Mercurian passport stamped without a return ticket. When martians migrated to a body made of a small cloud of magnetized multi-facet balls, they never contemplated their great undertaking. When a Mercurian floats to the edge of the Fuller Crater, because of their fragile magnetic nature, they lift and crushed by fields.


    Mercury spins slowly upon itself and is tilted very slightly. Deadly invisible solar fluxes of charged radiation fly and kiss the planet at an angle of six degrees over the north-west rim of the Fuller Crater. In this invisible wind, which would produce heavy static on an old radio, is felt by the stranded Mercurians as a violent, painful upward push. The invisible waves of high energy solar plasma are relentless. They slide like dust over the edges of the Crater the same way snow covers the lip of a mountaintop in the Alps.


    The Crater wasn¡¯t a home, it was a fortunate prison for martians stranded and unable to communicate. In the natural oasis of shade which is the Fuller Crater, is also found the only substantial deposits of natural water and carbonic ice on the surface of the planet. The chunk of frozen water and carbon, about the size of twenty ice rinks, include an underground network of caverns large enough to sustain the colony. Here the creatures survive.


    The Messenger probe crashed on Mercury and in 2015, mankind first learned of the glaciers located here. But that year, man wasn''t looking for life in the form of small puffs of magnetic martian sand, and no one gave a second thought of possible conditions hospitable for sand creatures. As a result, alien life here remained undiscovered until they were seen by the President.


    ***


    "Toro, Toro, something in the seventh quantum bend is changing," said a frantic voice deep below the ice of Mercury. The cavern was the size of a human basketball. Here, sunshine never shone. On the wall, dirty crystals resonated in a deep red color. The sand creature was excited, the grains forming the hand-sized cloud were shaking lightly. It floated next to a darker portion of the room on which multiple dots of color bounced.


    "Nothing short of the seventh, really?" came the sarcastic reply from his friend floating in.


    "Yes, yes, yes!" confirmed the first creature.


    "You said the same thing five storms ago," joked Toro. It moved slowly, and it¡¯s grains merged at the same location as his friend increasing the density of the cloud. Both creatures for the moment existed in the same area, their grains interlocked. In this formation, they were capable of using each other''s energy to warm themselves. On Mars, the merger of two creatures into the same location, much like public sex on Earth, was taboo. But here on Mercury, the necessity of subsistence in this cold hostile place had long forced the creatures to abandon this stigma. Like Everest climbers, life here was in close quarters and they merged as often as possible to save a joule of energy.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    From a distance, the colony looked like a giant ant farm made of a maze of irregular tubes like veins in the ice. Each stranded creature owned a physical part of the colony. The pair was floating alone in the scientific gallery, at the heart of the structure. To a human, this place looked like a dirty tube carved in ice. Next to the pair, a small white speck large enough to hold a subatomic machine was carved in the ice. Here, technology was only available on an atomic scale.


    The excited creature continued, "Look at the higher properties of this photon, at the seventh bend in the machine. It points to the right; that''s not possible. It points at space in a direction the outside the magnetic shield in a vector that points between Jupiter and Earth. That can''t be a coincidence. Earth!" The creature''s excitement was infectious. This notion that Martians were stoic creatures, entities free of emotions and only made of reason was pure falsehood. The optimist merged with Toro was named Grix, but most on Mercury deformed his name and called him Grox. The friendly taunt annoyed him, but here anything designed to pass the time was welcomed.


    "Do you realize how crazy you sound? Are you sure? That''s a very bold statement. How about the fourth bend instead of the seventh?"


    "Look for yourself," replied Grix vibrating over part of the cold wall.


    Before it could look at the machine, Toro needed to sever himself from Grix. In the small crack, deep inside a rock were floating about two thousand grains of sand inches above the ground. A thousand grains formed each creature. One by one, the two creatures began to slide away from each other leaving a gold streak of energy in the faint atmosphere. As they untangled, there was pleasure. The merger and the severing felt good to them.


    To the untrained eye, there was nothing to see. The surface of the ice was dirty and irregular, and the machine was too small for the naked human eye. But using a very fine microscope, one could see the surface of the ice carved precisely to allow millions of small platelets to form a network of angles. On each tip of the machine was an angled mirror. The same way satellites are built to house titanium waveguides, carved labyrinth corridors in metal blocks to hold waves, this machine was designed to guide a single photon, like a Plinko ball, through this network of mirrors. With each bounce, the photon lost energy and slowed, flipping from its particulate form back and to wave form.


    Grix squeezed himself very hard; the cloud became almost half its size until a single photon shot out in the direction of the wall like a lama spits at a tourist. The yellow ball of light hit the machine, bent sideways and began a long bouncing trajectory. As it moved within the labyrinth, it slowed from the speed of light to a virtual standstill. During the short process, the yellow photon changed color to a deep shade of gold and finally into a red dot.


    "There!" confirmed Grix. "Look at its shape, the edge; it seems to twist."


    "It did not."


    "Did so."


    "It did not."


    "Did so." His enthusiasm was audible. Like a candle running out of wax, the red photon wicked and extinguished as the two creatures argued like children. "Let me show you again," offered Grix. The creature compressed itself once again and launched a second photon in the crystal labyrinth. It followed the same trajectory and slowed. "See it," he finally said, "Right there!" he offered as it finally turned red. An instant before it blinked out of existence, the same thing happened. The photon''s rounded shape became oblong, it then twisted upon itself, flipped like a fish running out of air just before it blinked out of existence.


    "I guess," had to admit the skeptic, "but that is a long way from being a shift in the seventh bend of space. It could be an extension of the second or a split of the fourth. I don''t know. You''re reaching the conclusion you want to believe. Stop giving yourself this false hope, no one has ever come here or will ever come to this place. We''ve been disappointed so many times by false messages and predictions. If anyone comes, it will be from Mars, not from Earth. The vector of escape from this miserable photon points to the water rock. Mars is on the left, if this was Jupiter," he concluded.


    "There is life now on Earth, you know this. They have space travel capacity. They crashed a probe here a while back. Maybe Mars asked for their help. Or maybe the help comes from Jupiter, it also orbits on the right, behind earth."


    "Jupiter? My god, you are finally going mad. A very short time ago, the earthians sent a probe; it was so primitive, it did not even to possess a visual camera. They are sending waves -- waves, you get that?! We are invisible to them. They simply cannot know we exist and even those on Mars think we are dead." Much like apples on a tree, all photons appeared identical from a distance, but to any advanced civilization, when examined carefully, photons, they differed widely and demonstrated change over time.


    "I will not and cannot give up on being rescued."


    "This is our home."


    "This is a prison, not a home."


    "I know," conceded the second, "I cannot give up on hope. I would have let myself drift to the Sun a long time ago if I did. I apologize; your optimism must be encouraged, not dashed. I hope you''re right. Let''s watch it again."


    They did, again and again, the way only a prisoner could.


    But Grix was right. He had lifted part of the paradox in that he deeply wanted to leave his prison. Irrespective of the future, irrespective of the measure, his acts would not change. He planned to leave his planet. For that reason, he was able to read photon¡¯s seventh bend values without the determinism mask. He saw the future, and he was right.


    Help was coming.


    Grox and Toro continued their experimentation. "Look, the blur begins here, past this date. Time is very short. Less than half one of our years. Our future here is now undetermined, how exciting! We must warn the others."


    "Calm yourself. Yes, but this can mean many things. Not sure why you jump to the conclusion of a rescue." Toro hated to challenge once again the optimism of Grox.


    "What else could it mean?"


    "Hundreds of things. I don''t know. For example, the Multiverse is changing. It is bending, and past a point, it may want to destroy this world, this entire dimension."


    "Then that outcome would be determined, certain and visible."


    "Not really. I know of a rare phenomenon, an occurrence when the variables begin to change and align. In theory, it is as if all these values are "attracted" to each other. I call it the Attraction or the Great Curvature."


    "What the hell are you talking about? You must stop taking in those high energy plasma photons. They''re damaging you; you''re half crazy already. You discard a rescue mission and favor a much less probable outcome."


    "That would be fun. I will run tests to confirm this theory. Maybe there is an Attraction coming."


    "I have had enough of you."


    "Nothing is coming here; I apologize if my words seem harsh."


    The voices in the Crater went silent.


    In the silence of night, a large rocket launched from its pad in Florida. It was a capsule designed to perforate the ice of a moon of Jupiter. It rose silently, appear to twist in the sky as the pad on Earth rotated away. Instead of initiating the complex orbit and ricochet the craft around the moon, the craft ignited thrusters and plunged the black tube instead toward the Sun. In it were two men, one was a prisoner of the other. The prisoner slept under the action of a powerful sedative. The other was laughing hysterically. Behind him were a hundred fragile figurines of Marilyn Monroe stored in protective boxes. The clouds of sand inside of each were fighting the deadly lift forces.


    The acceleration was brutal.


    The new destination was the Fuller Crater. Soon.


    It was a rescue mission, and Grox was partly right.


    The Sixth Attraction was coming, and Toro was also partly right.


    Grox released another photon. Looked at it. It bounced, slowed and then twisted. Help was coming... it was coming from Earth.

 Chapter 75

    Earlier, Berlin


    Patrick walked to the desk and grabbed the vial containing the God Virus, he did so very carefully. The man inspected the dark fluid. The solution seemed alive and twisted as a chocolate taffy folding upon itself over and over. Why did Marilyn object to the frog¡¯s release, was it airborne? In silence, he wondered what would happen if he self-administered the solution.


    ¡°Where to begin,¡± Francois had minutes with his friend, not hours. ¡°We humans take randomness for granted because of our evolution as a species on this globe. Animals hear a noise in the wild, most of the time they can¡¯t know what it is, but to protect against the rare predator, the brain decides if the noise is hostile or not. Should it panic or not, hesitation kills and was washed from how we operate. Said politely, we are all programmed deep inside to refuse random, chaos and the unknown. We are allergic to the ¡®I don¡¯t know¡¯ mindset. We first created God to answer questions we frankly had no answers to. We then invented science for the same purpose.


    ¡°Add on top of that narcissism, these cell phones and you get a population of fools who think they know things but also falsely believe they understand their world and the Universe. Truth is, we are, we live in the rare slice of order in a world made of chaos. Water, molecules, movement, waves, all of it is rest on a hill of chaos.¡±


    ¡°Very romantic of you.¡±


    ¡°Half of what I teach is chaos theory. But chaos assumes one basic thing.¡±


    ¡°What teacher Copland?¡± joked Emilio pretending to be a student in love with the teacher. The men were great friends.


    ¡°Chaos. Chaos assumes more chaos but is defined by limits of order; the same way a parking lot is defined by the streets around it. Marilyn says the fabric of our universe itself is shifting and slowly, we are losing our capacity to decide as this bias increases. The world will start deciding where the rain falls, where air gets breathed, and what babies are born. At the moment every damn molecule moves randomly, well, that¡¯s about to end. The door on chaos is about to close and we do not own the key. This is serious as hell. This virus speeds up the process. Put this liquid in your arm and the universe gets to play piano with you. This,¡± he pointed, ¡°accelerates evolution and I am not sure mankind needs a million years of evolution in a matter of hours. More importantly, an evolution pushed by invisible hands.¡±


    ¡°Why should we care if this entire dimension is days from vanishing.¡±


    ¡°True, this seems futile.¡± Francois had to concede the point. ¡°Marilyn wants me to tell you what this virus does and more importantly how the world is changing. This bias exists, always has but in some places it sleeps while in other it roars.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the connection with Mercury?¡±


    ¡°No clue.¡±


    ¡°Am I the only one to see the fallacy here?¡± The President took the vial. ¡°For weeks, this charming Multiverse has been trying real hard to destroy our race and prevent Sophie from saving us. It sets up death trap after death trap as if Sophie on her birthday gets to open one door, not two and it wants to confuse her into opening the wrong one. So I took care of most problems here on Earth and Sophie is on Mars stuck to deal with two things, the game and the ball from the Sun.¡±


    ¡°Seems so.¡±


    ¡°The Multiverse now want these creatures from Mercury to be sent to Mars. Are we not exporting a danger and a confusion to Sophie¡¯s lap? Someone sane here would say that my success at warding off problems from Earth and Marilyn¡¯s protection of Sophie is being thwarted by the Multiverse yet again?¡±


    ¡°When you put it that way.¡± Francois realized Emilio was right. ¡°Then trash the syringe right now, it¡¯s that simple.¡±


    Emilio walked around holding the virus, he had a very difficult decision to make.He hesitated along time. Finally he said, ¡°This is going to Mercury, we just needs the right host.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°What about what you just said?¡±


    ¡°You know, this feels different for three reasons.¡±


    ¡°You never do things easily, three?¡±


    ¡°Hard for me to conceive how, if we rescue a race of stranded creatures, this could be adverse to Sophie in a month. Feels like this might convince the creatures on Mars to help us, no?¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡±


    ¡°Next, Marilyn is on our side, she is also trying to avoid the end and she desires this outcome. But more importantly, my visions are different. They come with emotions and I feel this is different and needs to happen.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Did we just waste our time with circular reasoning.¡±


    ¡°As you said, none of this might actually matter if in fact Sophie¡¯s role is not this basic. This could be rearrangement of chairs on the Titanic.¡±


    Emilio told his friend to follow closely as they went out to the elevator. As they approached the large metal door, Francois felt the President tense up. He knew Emilio didn''t like elevators and hated basements -- their next destination. Days ago, the President had ordered several of the most dangerous serial killers brought here and placed below the surface in cells in a maximum security area. He just felt like that was the right thing to do, one he had seen in a dream.


    The elevator doors opened and quickly made it to the basement of the tower as Emilio closed his eyes of fear. Two guards were waiting inside. ¡°Let''s see what 184 in IQ gets these days." Francois felt privileged to be there.


    ***


    Two guards waited in the basement and two more inside the holding rooms. The room where thefirst man sat was paired with a room behind a one-way mirror. Both men walked to the first observation room, hidden from sight. Awaited on a tray was a carafe of Scotch whiskey and a couple of crystal tumblers prepared as instructed by the President. In the room, the French Canadian waited flanked with two guards.


    ¡°Watch here,¡± he grabbed the tray. ¡°The solution to bias and control is simple, either insanity or intellect; both together preferably. If this Universe wants to manipulate a host, let¡¯s make the job as hard as possible. It¡¯s hard to explain why this needs to happen.¡±


    ¡°Not to a mathematician. You actually make a lot more sense than you think.¡±


    The President went to the other room. Christian, the prisoner still in his orange jumpsuit was well over sixty of age. His choice of grooming was strange, he wore mullet and a goatee. Dark circles around his eyes evidenced years of sleep deprivation, caffeine dependence to name a few. The intelligent ferocious eyes had an especially malevolent draw. This was a caged feline, one ready to bounce.


    ¡°Who is he?¡± asked the mathematician to one of the guard.


    ¡°Remember the man who tried to release the plague of 2035? That¡¯s him. He has killed well over twenty guards over the past years. That guy deserves a bullet in the head, not eighty year old whiskey.¡±


    Emilio entered with the tray on which was the carafe of alcohol, the two glass tumblers and the syringe.


    "Mister Maltais,¡± Emilio pulled the chair and sat after placing the tray on the table inches from the man.


    "Call me Christian," replied the prisoner with his thick accent.


    Emilio filled both glasses with the brown liquid.


    "Release his mental control,¡± he spoke to the guard. ¡°Put cuffs on him, tie one to the table."


    "Sir?"


    The killer seemed puzzled by the unexpected turn of events and the level of confidence of a man that looked rather defenseless. The guard pulled two pairs of cuffs and attached each wrist to a different leg. As both hands stretched, the head was pulled lower to the table.


    "No need for the preliminary remarks," said Emilio. The President turned to the guard in the room. "Shoot the cameras and get out. Leave us alone."


    "Turn them off?"


    "I was very specific young man.¡±


    The guard needed no more and pulled his sidearm. They were in a concrete room. The bullets hit the target, ricocheted, but no one was hurt.


    "Leave us alone."


    "A first date? What an honor," the criminal said teasingly. The guard got up, opened the door, and left. "How am I supposed to drink?" His hands were tied to each of the table legs.


    "I see you don''t know me, that''s rare these days. I like that."


    "What?"


    "Let me reset whatever false sense of control floats in that head of yours. You see the needle and likely hope to hold me hostage with it. You noticed this steel table is not bolted to the floor. Your plan, at the moment can work aside from one variable, the glass. If you flip the table, the two glasses and this carafe will fly in a random direction and introduce unpredictability into your actions.¡± The man was smiling like a child, the President was right. ¡°Your brain, while well structured, cannot anticipate how the glasses will break. I also ordered crystal carved with hundreds of facets to help generate more random, just for you." The French-Canadian was silent. "Said simply, these glasses keeps you shackled, not these cuffs, how ironic, no?"


    "Impressive," said the man. The killer''s smile was priceless. He was back in contact with someone who was worth his time. His eyes began to move erratically in their orbits as the man formulated a new plan. In less than a second the flutter stopped, and he focused again on his host.


    "Intelligent people want to control things, to predict. You will pounce the moment you think you have the upper hand, not before. In fact, you now have concluded my entertainment value exceeded your desire to harm me," continued the President. The killer smiled, he liked this man.


    "There is a plan out there that needs some element of chaos introduced into it, and I think you are just what this doctor ordered. I will use you as a tool to help with a mission, save the world. But at the end, you will die. I''d wager that''s the first time someone about to manipulate you has had the courage to let you know that upfront."


    ¡°I have been locked up and without access to the Internet for decades. As you said, I don¡¯t even know who you are. Why me?"


    ¡°The abbreviated version?¡±


    ¡°Always.¡±


    ¡°Well, I was told there is a growing universal bias, the virus in that vial uses this bias to transform genetically a host. I need you to shoot yourself with it, get in a rocket we have prepared and travel to Mercury to rescue in a crater the first alien life form. Because of temperatures and magnetic energy, no automated system can go. Barefoot on that burning rock, you will rocket a hundred life forms made of sand to Mars where a war is brewing. To make matters stranger, a human, a young girl on Mars has godlike powers and might help out entire dimension survive the destruction of the Multiverse. Interested?¡±


    ¡°You seem serious.¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Why would I do such a thing.¡±


    ¡°Sounds more fun than what you got right now.¡±


    ¡°Definitely.¡±


    ¡°Can I ask for something?¡±


    ¡°Time is very short.¡±


    ¡°I want the guy who put me in prison, next to me.¡±


    ¡°Nick?¡± The President was well informed.


    ¡°Yes. Collateral damage our species can definitely accept. I promise to make him suffer.¡±


    ¡°Deal.¡±


    Emilio emptied the vial in the man¡¯s arm. Nothing seemed to happen.


    He got up. ¡°Enjoy the ride.¡±


    The killer looked his way and simply offered, ¡°and they call me crazy.¡±


    ¡°Agreed. Wait until you read the rest of it. Truth be told, ironically, you might actually save the entire dame race you once tried to destroy.¡±

 Chapter 76

    ¡°Marilyn,¡± snapped the President as he finally set foot in his Berlin office. The man was, to put it mildly, upset. He had just sent a man to die and pumped him with god-knows-what. In his heart, he knew this needed to happen, but it still wasn¡¯t a great day for the world or the civil rights of the human race. Had he been told earlier of this virus, a different outcome might have presented itself.


    ¡°Yes, cute one,¡± answered the digital goddess as her face appeared on the numerous screens in the room. The speed at which she could replace the dark screensavers was dizzying as if she really was there permanently.


    ¡°Say what you want, none of this makes any sense. Pieces are moving way too fast. Can you get Laurent and Liam on a four way call, we need to coordinate. I don¡¯t want to be caught off guard again.¡±


    ¡°Contestants should not collude or even speak to each other, that¡¯s against the rules of Electoral.¡±


    He was about to swear but held back, ¡°Marylin, darling, I think all of what is going on requires coordination, and I doubt you can manage sensibilities. Sophie ran this show, and I was more than happy to play a supporting role when she was around, but she is indisposed . I just sent your virus and a pair of the most unstable guys to Mercury on a hunch. At a minimum I need to keep Laurent and Liam in the loop of what just happened. Doubtful you kept them informed, right?¡±


    She ignored the question. ¡°I did not know of the Mercurians before you disclosed their existence. I can tell you why you sent this unique pair of humans, that¡¯s easy and logical.¡±


    ¡°Get them on the call. They deserve to hear your explanation. Sophie is allergic to secrecy and frankly I am starting to see things her way. Her father and her mentor deserve a notice of what I just did.¡±


    ¡°One moment.¡± Marilyn vanished and reappeared on the screen dressed as a old telephone operator, wearing think black glasses in front of a terminal in which spaghetti cables slid to connect callers. Her hair in a bun, she slid a metal piece in the wall and the image of Liam in his original form appeared. ¡°Let me connect Laurent,¡± she added holding her earpiece. ¡°Sir,¡± she spoke to Laurent in a nasal accent, ¡°you have a collect call from Earth from the President, do you accept the charges?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± answered Sophie¡¯s father on the other side of the line.


    As the connector slid in, the fourth participant joined. Marilyn was proud of her sense of humor, no one seemed to find it amusing.


    ¡°Gents,¡± began the President. ¡°I just shipped two psychopaths to Mercury in an urgent turn of events.¡±


    ¡°Seer,¡± said Liam.


    ¡°Good day,¡± offered Laurent.


    ¡°I had a vision, it was linked with the planet Mercury. In a crater in the north of the planet, some creatures made of sand were lost, stranded. I felt like they need to be rescued and sent either to Earth or Mars, that remains uncertain.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Congratulations,¡± offered Liam. ¡°Over the eons, many individuals with your capacity are unable to see more than flashes or vague images. Few ever get feelings much less full visions.¡± The comment startled and calmed the President.


    ¡°The creatures are going to Mars,¡± added Marylin.


    ¡°As you will discover, the men sent to Mercury are rather independent-minded, to put it mildly. It is unclear what they actually will do.¡± Marilyn remained silent.


    Emilio kept going, ¡°Earlier this month, I had flashes, images of a deranged individual. I saw him in space. Then I had a very elaborate vision of Mercury and these creatures. I also saw the destruction of the planet by the core of the Sun. Moments of that vision, Marilyn dropped quite a bombshell on my lap. She gave me a vial with a bioengineered virus that uses the god bias, the Universal pull. It was baptized the god virus by a man named Takeda, a biologist. We have files on him, he is the man who created another virus decades ago.¡±


    Both men listening knew better than to disrupt Emilio. The President added, ¡°The virus plays genetic roulette with a host and giving it better survival chances. Marilyn believes this virus will help the Mercury mission. I am grossly simplifying this. Time was very short, we had a ship ready to visit Io, a moon of Jupiter. In hours we repurposed it is not designed for inner solar heat. We shot them to Mercury. They are accelerating at the moment around the moon in hopes of getting there on time. Our experts are unanimous, for them to land in days and send back the creatures to Mars before the finale, they must arrive on Mercury at a pulverizing speed.¡±


    ¡°I can land them safely on Mercury,¡± said Marilyn.


    The three men were not thrilled. ¡°I know Sophie would never have let you inoculate anyone against their will,¡± said the father of the Attractor.


    ¡°Since the man is a prisoner serving multiple life sentences, he gave consent.¡±


    ¡°What did he do?¡±


    ¡°He stole a deadly virus and tried to kill the entire human race by weaponizing it.¡±


    ¡°You sent a mass murderer on this mission?¡± puzzled Laurent.


    ¡°He followed the vision,¡± offered Liam. ¡°The vision of a Seer suffices here. There must be attenuating circumstances.¡±


    ¡°There are,¡± offered Marilyn. ¡°First, an army of martian is building up above the Center, humanity¡¯s efforts to save their kind will not go be ignored. They were mere hours from attacking us. We may avoid a war. Next, the pair of psychopathic killers is exactly what I needed to boost my ratings. Wait until you two play them.¡±


    ¡°Ratings?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I collect energy from humans watching which I might need to defeat the Attraction if Sophie remains indisposed.¡±


    Emilio looked at Laurent on the screen. There was something odd talking to Liam¡¯s alien body. ¡°What is the situation with Sophie. Anything to be worried about.¡±


    ¡°Sophie¡¯s mind was struggling after her contact with the Multiverse. Frankly, for a young girl her age, she was handling the situation rather well. When she lost her mother and I, at first she changed but for sometime. She isolated herself reading Alice in Wonderland. The story relaxed her and got her mind in peace. Liam and I decided to offer her the sequel. She truly enjoyed the gift. We both think she is now healing.¡±


    ¡°I saw a similar shield form during the Fourth Attraction but on a planetary level. The Attractor was rendered unconscious but the energy had to be channeled it seemed. Here, she is in her own little world, protected from us. I would not be shocked, as the Attraction nears to observe the energy ball grow in size.¡± Liam did not sound worried.


    ¡°Bottom line is, we simply play the next game and hope this works. When Sophie returns, hopefully the Martians will be back in their hole. Let¡¯s enjoy my game.¡± Suggested Marilyn.


    ¡°Last time she awoke minutes before Laurent¡¯s game.¡±


    ¡°You were about to disqualify me.¡±


    ¡°Well, that will not happen this time. Her consent was given for every subsequent game. Just watch the ratings.¡±


    No one was amused.

 Chapter 77

    Electoral 2072


    Round 28 of 32


    The President walked on stage under a torrent of applause.


    Respect was evident from each in this crowd. Emilio was used to it. The short man smiled and took the time to make eye contact with as many audience members as possible. Students were barely able to hold back their true emotions. Invisible over the room and to the assembly was a generous flow of Rho waves generated by a pre-teenager locked in her cocoon millions of miles away. As the waves pulsed away from Mars, they grew in power. At the moment Sophie''s mood was good it seemed so everyone also shared this optimism.


    The importance of the current events could not curb the room''s enthusiasm. The slightly portly man was humanity''s best hope. "Heavy" did not begin to describe the President''s task of dismantling the multiple doomsday plots which converged on November 21st.


    Emilio was wearing a grey suit, a tie, and a buttoned-up vest. His red silk tie was the only touch of color on the stage. Emilio walked to Francois and shook his hand. He hugged him and invited the crowd to sit. Slowly, they did. Clicker and microphone in hand, Emilio was ready to begin his presentation. The Mexican walked to the right of the stage where one of Marilyn''s Rho chambers stood there, powered off and ready for the next game. The technology felt out of place in this renaissance building. The anachronism was hypnotic, second only to the President''s sheer presence. With the tip of his fingers, he gently caressed the glass. It felt cold. He flipped a switch and the screen of the tube powered up. In his mind, he had seen which button to touch to warm up this device. To everyone else, Emilio simply was gifted and always did the right thing.


    The strange looking man was humanity''s champion; even his harshest critics were now silent. The politics were finally gone. It was undeniable -- humankind was vulnerable and on the edge of extinction if any of the strange events had to be believed. As he spoke, the world listened the same way children are taught about life-changing decisions by their parents.


    "All of the key protagonists of this story agree on one thing: the general population, that means you here and at home, are important enough to get a front row seat to every part of what is going on. Sophie''s instincts tell us to be open and transparent. She shares with us humiliating or painful parts of her past with purpose. The girl is an open book and insists on transparency and frankly, who am I to disagree." He walked around and again sought the eyes of the crowd.


    "Sophie traveled a couple of days ago to a place called the Underworlds. If we are to believe any part of the story unfolding before us, our American darling connected on a deeper level with the Multiverse itself. The images returned are simply too much for any of us to understand. She is now in some type of protective bubble, Laurent tells us she is fine. She is reading her favorite book, one written exactly 200 years ago.¡±


    He was talking to himself, gazing high above the crowd, "She decided to enter this place, beyond time, flanked with Liam and Marilyn. She did not bring her father. Somehow Sophie is insulating Laurent from this madness. Second, as if animated by the same desire of transparency, Sophie asked Marilyn to broadcast images of the encounter with the Multiverse as coherently to us as she could. The initiative was noteworthy. Personally, I know most of it can''t be understood. The scenes where Sophie cries, her mother and even Marilyn''s fear is simply not something we would expect on prime-time television, yet there it was.¡±


    "There has to be a reason why we all must be part of the Sixth Attraction. Somehow both Sophie and Marilyn agree, the human species must be given a front seat to these events. I have a guess as to why that must be, but for the moment I will keep my intuition to myself. It does have to do with these waves. What is clear is that I must also be transparent and involve you all in whatever I do next."


    There was a long silence in the room. Emilio grabbed the scotch tumbler on the table next to Francois, smelled it and placed it back. "Now you understand why I don''t drink and calm myself smelling a strong drink. For years I had to live with thinking everyone saw me as an alcoholic. To me, it''s like wearing earplugs at a Grand Prix of Formula One. Once this task is over, and I hand this job to Sophie''s dad, I plan to be black-out drunk for a full year.


    No one dared laugh.


    "In about an hour, I will step into this capsule, hook-up my brain and play Round 28 along with the thirty-one remaining players. Sophie''s father is at the Center, and the other players are making their way to the Electoral Center. I am told CNN is broadcasting the second catapult landing just about now." Emilio touched the glass of the tube; he was unable to detect any imperfection. "This surface is smooth and transparent, how can it be made of little robots? Electoral''s nanotechnology is scary even to me. We now cohabit our solar system with a creature of godly power capable of destroying our race with a click of a button -- yet here we stand. She is helping us forward. Is she evil? Did this game somehow break the universe?¡±


    The glass tube was shining under the stage lights. The metal also appeared to glimmer like a diamond in odd places. No debate existed on the matter; it was alien and superior technology. Emilio walked closer to the Rho chamber, looked at the screen on the left of the device and spoke, "Marilyn, darling?"


    ¡°Emilioux!" replied the blond. She also was on the large white screen above the stage. Marilyn''s hair was tied back like any good scientist and wore dark, thick glasses with tape holding the bridge. She looked at the mathematician,"Francois do you love my scientist look?" She bit her dark red lips sensually, and silently mouthed "Call me." This was childish yet great television.


    Marilyn was the most seductive creature in the world. Francois looked away; he refused to step into this firing line of discussion. On the screen were images of the actress in her lab coat. She walked between thirty pods on Mars, making final adjustments to the tubes. In the room behind her, the first players were getting prepared.


    The images gave the impression Marilyn was alive, a human and present physically in that room of the Electoral Center. She was interacting with the guests. In the center was Laurent''s body, lying unattended except for his doctor. Emilio pointed to the Chamber, "I guess this tube is alien technology, right?"


    "For a man so gifted at choosing words, poor choice darling. The definition of alien expanded recently. This pod is nothing humanity can''t achieve by itself in a generation if you bipeds survive all of this. I strongly agree with Francois'' patronizing speech about science, albeit with one wrinkle. As we saw, the Multiverse has many dimensions, and emotion plays a powerful component to how it operates at a higher level. Playing with a ball, while entertaining to some, does not enrich your collective in term of the sciences, though it does enhance the aggregate level of mental energy. If you like Rho waves, the football World Cup final will do it for you."


    Marilyn looked at the screen directly at everyone watching and spoke to them directly. "Let me make a rare personal statement. A bit less than a billion people watching are between the ages of ten and twenty. To all you children out there, your parents have been reckless and careless. Today their world, your world, may vanish simply because of their incapacity to understand the fragility of their circumstances. Humanity is a species, nothing more. On November 22, if our word survives the Sixth Attraction, things must change. Adults can''t change. Even if they get scared, perhaps especially when scared, they will return to their old ways. You need to take control. Sophie emancipated herself. You now have the right to vote. You must vote often. Vote in all elections. Vote for the youngest candidates. If you have the choice between a 30-year-old and a 17-year-old, take the younger, it¡¯s that simple. Don¡¯t get confused by issues. As for the tube, it is constructed my small devices which are MEMS, that''s a 1986 term from DARPA which means micro-electro-mechanical systems.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    From the stage, Emilio played into the event, "Can you flex a sexy muscle and show them what this can do?"


    "Really?!" A light breeze rose in the room. Doors shivered in their frames on all sides as air pressure rose behind them. The most tender eardrums popped as the magic began. Electoral loved the old amphitheater. Invisible to everyone, humidity in the room increased by six percent as magnetized water molecules used their van der Waals bridges to transport small flags. The room was Electoral''s on a molecular level. If she wanted, she could prevent air from entering every lung. "Your heavy gravity is not helping. Give me a second."On the screen, she removed a brooch and let her hair fall. The software used like illusionists such tricks to stall. The delay was longer than expected.


    "This is as good a time as any other to introduce the Rho chambers on a level a bit more fundamental than what has already been revealed." Before she even finished her words, the entire structure next to the President collapsed in a mountain of black powder. He was ankle high in it. If I move the air, I can move the dust floating in the air. Then micro-currents do the rest. Take a look," she said as the ballet began.


    From the ceiling fell more powder, sorting itself into streams like the spell of a wizard. Marilyn was a born showoff; she sent the powder around the large room merely to enhance the experience. "What are Rho waves? We know two things about them: they are a faint background noise in human brain activity, and that Sophie generates more of these waves than the combined population of Europe. One day I discovered these waves as I tried to understand humanity. Unlike lower form waves, these had strange unexplainable properties. I managed to harness and process them to a limited extent. To this end, I enhance the brain activity of players of my game with them.


    "These chambers are not designed to draw waves out of a player''s mind; they are instead a magnifying lens which pours the waves back into the players. Since the energy and effect of these waves are amplified with distance, it was fortuitous I was forced far away from the human population. While it made sense for Emilio to remain on Earth for obvious security reasons, allowing him to play from earth forces me to fuel his tube with weaker waves from the source, and that drains Rho power. Roughly half of the watcher''s waves. I know you guys don''t care, but I do."


    Slowly most of the powder on the stage reconfigured itself back into the identical Rho chamber, but this time the front panel was open. On the screen was a countdown, the giant number 54:24. They were less than an hour away from Round 28. Lines of black powder flew in the air and around every person in the room. The rest of the powder twirled and formed on the corner of each table in the shape of a cute little black cube larger than a die. On one side was sculpted -- Electoral 2072 -- and on the reverse side -- Round 28: The Fuller Crater. -- The dark puzzle looked like it was made of shiny leather, but pulsing with light. Everyone in the room was looking at the gift inches away as if it was a deadly virus.


    Marilyn explained, "A gift. Run to your electronic microscopes and start understanding what I did." No one touched the cubes.


    Emilio said jokingly pointing at the number counting down, "but we still have a lot of work to do, and the clock is ticking." He blew a kiss in her direction. She knew how to take a cue. As she vanished from the screen, she blew a kiss Francois'' way.


    Emilio smiled, she was such a diva. "Lovely, isn''t she? Impossible to hate her. Hard to think she is a foe or even a problem to the Multiverse itself." The group in the room was already too impressed to form opinions. A few of the more courageous souls present finally dared to touch their cubes.


    Emilio pushed a button, the screen lit up, and the presentation began.


    The President was a born public speaker.


    He pointed at the image of the Sun on the white board behind him. "Let''s begin with the really old stuff. Fusion is the release of energy when hydrogen collides and fuse forming a heavier but lighter helium nucleus. This occurs deep within our Sun as a result of gravity compressing the gas. Gamow, a fat scientist¡± he grabbed his own gut, ¡°who worked with Richard Feynman the father of Quantum theory refused to stop the notion of fusion and compression with helium formation. Gamow found that secondary fusion chains occurred in the heart of the Sun. Squeezed hard enough, heavier and heavier elements through the entire spectrum of the atomic chart, like, for example, the carbon, oxygen and the nitrogen in our atmosphere will form.


    "We now know that with time, these heavier elements in very small concentration are drawn into lumps and streaks that agglomerate in the Sun. These elements somehow form highways in the shape of filaments. Marilyn as part of her introductory video to... which round?" he asked Francois. The man sitting on stage was pointing at him instead of suggesting a number. The President needed no more, his brain, as usual, understood the cue. "Part of the Presidential Challenge showed this Heliocorium. Formation and agglomeration of this new stage in matter is the life work of Russian physicist David Lipvitch''s. We spoke with David about these structures, and he confirmed our most significant fears. At any given time, our Sun is believed to contain enough heavy elements to form one or two new proto-planets. Unique conditions are needed for this matter to accumulate, and much rarer conditions are required for such a large mass to be expelled with sufficient velocity to form a new planet.


    "A ball is coming our way, and our solar system will soon have a new orbiting planet unless, as we fear, this magma impacts Earth directly. Normally that would be a wonderful thing. A race in a world called the Purple has the resources to alter the Sun''s inner dynamic to force the heliocorium into a ball. Marilyn confirmed that story, which was the basis of Round 27 of Electoral. Marilyn made this threat as clear as possible. But we have physical evidence which backs this story. Recently, neutrinos, which originate deep within the Sun have begun to shift in energy. To non-physicists, neutrinos are massless particles produced deep in the Sun and pass through matter almost undisturbed. Their change is evidence that the fabric of the Sun itself has been altered. I now am sure this ball will be issued and converge on us as one of the events Marilyn and Liam call the Sixth Attraction. To Liam, if we are to believe his theory, somehow the Multiverse desires our destruction."


    Emilio was articulate. He spoke like any good university professor. He appeared to have a profound personal knowledge of these matters. "Experts believe part of the Kuiper belt, the line of asteroids beyond Neptune, are the consequence of such a proto-planet crushing event. We appear to be next in line. To me, this smacks of the first event. I feel powerless to prevent it; I can''t influence the workings of the Multiverse. But I believe Sophie can, but we must behold the entire canvas, glean what knowledge we can, and share it freely. Sophie does not seem to care about the planet''s imminent arrival, and who are we to disagree with her?


    "Next, we need to talk about the door." Images from Mars appeared on the wall behind Emilio. There was an audible gasp in the room. "This," he pointed at the perfectly formed black opening on a rock facade of natural stone, "is located at the base of one of the walls of the deep chasm on Mars called Valles Marineris. We believe it was carved more than a million years ago by alien life. It''s younger than Mars but not by much. We saw it in Round 24 of this year¡¯s competition.


    "We still have little to no data about this door and what lies beyond it. This summer, after decades of failed unmanned missions, we sent a handful of brave souls who entered at risk of their lives.¡± Images of the plume stack played. "I am sure you have all have seen it. Back then, I could not confirm alien inference." Behind the President were CNN images of the plume of white smoke rising from the Valles and the headline:


    -- Rare deep gas release on Mars. --


    "We believe Mars has its own inhabitants; they are located below the surface past this door. The Martians appear to us as hand-sized sand formations. They float in the air as little clouds of fine dust, or at least that''s the basis of some of their technology." He clicked, and the image changed. ¡°If you recall, in the Cosmos 1999 episode, Marilyn showed these globes. We received this summer a hundred of these globes." There was an image of the sand globes aligned on a table in the lab of the Berlin tower. Some were still in their boxes, others partially unwrapped. In each, a little figurine of Marilyn danced.


    "Marilyn promised to discuss this situation and these aliens tonight during Round 28."


    The audience in the room was no longer taking notes. Everyone was fixated on the images, their jaws hanging wide open. The President had just shown mankind evidence aliens existed, that at least part of the story was not fictional and more importantly that the problem had already landed on the shores of Earth.


    Marilyn appeared on the screen, ¡°Get ready Prez, the Martians as a new race will be described during Round 30, don¡¯t spoil anything yet.¡± The schedule scrolled on the screen.


    Electoral 2072 - The Sixth Attraction


    Round 28 - 32 players - The Fuller Crater (Now)


    Round 29 - 16 players - Mars Invaders (In 3 days)


    Round 30 - Quarter finales (In 7 days)


    Round 31 - 4 players - Semi finales (In 14 days)


    Round 32 - 2 players - Final (In 21 days)


    Two men walked out on the stage, helped Emilio get in the tube as the countdown moved to single digits.

 Chapter 78

    Io Observer


    Passing the Orbit of Venus


    To almost everyone, Mercury symbolized a liquid metal or an old god with wings on the heels of his shoes. Few, until today, cared about the scarred ball orbiting the armpit of our star. Sane minds agreed, there was no reason for humans to travel to the crater-infested iron ball aside from a desire to spend research funding from wasteful governments. Even from Mercury¡¯s dark side, which is by no means truly or permanently dark due to the rotation of the planet and its proximity to the Sun, our star appears as a giant white orb. Standing on Mercury, the gas ball''s outer edges as so close, they appear uneven, fuzzy to the naked eye.


    The cigar-shaped Io Observer, the latest gem from the European Space Agency, carved through space at 1,540,000 miles per hour en route to its death within the inner regions of the system. It was on a vector to hit Mercury in a day at most. There, it would crash on the surface and vaporize. The suicide mission was zooming ten times faster than any previous manned spacecraft and speeds kept increasing. Sophie¡¯s bumpy ride to Mars was a cakewalk in comparison. If compared to light speed, which in man''s solar system is roughly 669 million miles per hour, the velocity was still modest but as this speed, the solar wind coming from the ball of fire was creating headwind and some mild disturbances.


    This relativistic velocity was, said simply, death to the two passengers of the Observer. The rush to the inner parts of the system was more than a race, though. The Io Lab''s inertia could no longer be stopped. Stored in the velocity of the ship was the kinetic energy of a hundred nuclear bombs. Even at fractional c, the coefficient for light speed, the arrival at any destination was impossible.


    For days, the power of the engines had been pushing toward the Sun. To land on the celestial body, deceleration would still be abrupt and violent but there was, at most energy to slow down a small piece of the Observer. To better understand the insane approach velocity, Apollo 11 had taken four days to reach Earth¡¯s moon. At the current velocity of the Observer, this ship crossed the Moon to Earth distance in less than an hour, but for the moment, Mercury was still twenty hours away. From within the Lab, it was impossible for the two space travelers to feel any evidence of their velocity aside from the acceleration and the bumps. Back at Mission Command, these speeds made everyone very nervous.


    This expensive research vessel, the Io Observer, was known in the media by its stage name -- the Io Lab. That was the name of the reality television show featuring the dozen of pre-selected passengers. Two days ago, the ship was launched outwardly toward the Moon. To initiate the deadly speed, if pointed at the lunar horizon, feet above it and dropped. It swooshed and ricocheted around the Moon sucking up every joule of potential energy it could, increasing naturally the kinetic power of the Lab on its way to the Sun.


    Once the Moon was in the rear mirror of the Lab, Christian, the President¡¯s Jester pushed a button and ignited the eight nuclear thrusters. The blue blast was seen from Earth with the naked eye. A young, very fit fighter pilot could sustain without passing out a nine-G push back for a few seconds, armed with proper muscle clenching and breathing techniques designed to keep blood flowing to the brain.


    But the two travelers were old. Only the sociopath could muster the willpower to focus his mind long enough to avoid passing out as the Lab flew past the Moon. The man was 69. Christian held a button which, when released would cut half the acceleration. He rotated his chair, as instructed, every hour to force blood to every part of his body. Even to Christian, this was no fun. The man¡¯s will power was insanity. He counted in his mind numbers, letters and he held past any reasonable limit.


    The mind was a wonderful thing. Everyone believed the crazy old man would be able to hold twenty to thirty minutes at most as the ship¡¯s energy tripled. The doctors were planning to continue the push of the Observer at most an hour to avoid killing him. Down on the ground, Control and the engineers had bets as to how long the Jester manning the ship could hold before passing out. The most optimistic had the Jester at losing consciousness after fifteen minutes.


    Everyone, absolutely everyone, who had placed a bet that day went home a little bit frightened. The Jester had not flinched, complained, or come close to losing consciousness. The launch and acceleration of the ship was a story in itself.


    The sociopath''s determination allowed the engines to push until they reached this incredible speed. The man was rock. Ground control felt it would need to shock Christian back to consciousness after he passed out but he never did. On his chest was taped a shock device. Thanks to his efforts, they would arrive at Mercury hours earlier, and the return trip to Earth for the globes would now have more time to cross the 77 million miles.


    The Sixth Attraction was 20 odd days away. The globes were needed before the finale to stop what was on the horizon. During the first day, the Jester''s pale passenger slept soundly. Ground control told Christian long sleep periods were normal and simply confirmed the META''s pulse did not drop below eight beats per minute. As he drifted by, Christian occasionally flicked the old bastard''s nose for no reason.


    The Lab was designed to travel to the outer edges of the system and feel as comfy as possible for years of travel as it served as a giant reality television experiment. In the zero gravity, people used the ship''s long central brass pole to pull themselves along stacked rooms each in the shapes of donuts. Once at the destination, one side of the rooms would serve as the deck, but for the moment, there was no notion of up or down. Io''s gravity was similar to Earth''s moon, while Mercury and Mars had stronger pulls. Every part of the long series of rooms contained cameras. There were confession rooms for researchers/players to talk to fans. At the moment Nick, the Chairman of Blackberry was locked away in the game''s "break room¡± a strange prisoner.


    In 2072, governments took a back seat to private funding. Corporations had a much smaller window to produce real earnings, and they had become the alternative to endless debt-spending government. Of course, the support came at a cost. The Lab''s largest sponsor was a television production house. It paid for most of the program and in return, it selected the passengers, decorated the Lab and scripted a large part of the mission. The actors were no idiots, they had to meet some level of intelligence. But each of the individuals was a good actor and was emotionally unstable on some level or another. Sure, the producers wanted the crew to reach the destination and perform the experiments on Jupiter''s moon, but a self-destructing mission would not be a problem and would generate a greater audience. It took the Jester about 15 seconds to extrapolate that, and less than one second to decide he could put on a better show all by his lonesome. Nick, chained and sleeping in the break room, was just a bonus.


    Emilio didn''t care. He''d commandeered the ship with enough alacrity to even impress the madman he had piloting it. The show, for once, would have to wait. In one day only, with the help of Marilyn, the engineers readied the Lab and fired it into the sky. The original crew of 12 had spent years preparing for the mission and now were replaced by an odd couple of old killers.


    Christian, in honor of his screen name of Jester said to the Captain as he passed him on the loading bay, "User manuals are now much better than they once were." The joke fell flat to everyone but Christian; this felt like handing the keys of a Ferrari to an adolescent. Emilio agreed to make the switch public and to leave the live television feeds alone -- he owed as much to producers as he grabbed their expensive toy. Millions of people watched the equally puzzled team, now replaced by the two out of shape, psychotic old men. As usual, Emilio knew how to make great television. Christian''s sarcastic humor was politically and morally incorrect. He really couldn''t care less about what people thought. His insane smirk and a "Just Fucking Dare Me To" glare was an instant hit.


    It was evident to all, Christian was a happy camper and felt beyond himself. He was a child passing the turnstile at the amusement park. Emilio had delivered everything he had promised to the nutcase. Weeks ago, Christian Maltais was rotting in his cell; now he was asked to kill himself in the most creative way possible. In his hands was the faith of the human species, him, the man who once tried to extinguish those very same idiots. Emilio revived his interest in humanity. He didn''t flank him with the handful of morons selected for the trip. Instead, he left them on the ground, where they belonged. The man''s smile and happiness were infectious. He had a one-way ticket to hell, and he loved it. Christian dreamed of a good death; this was it, it was perfection. The man was obviously happy and his emotion shocked.


    The journalists questioned him on the launch pad, "Who are you?"


    "I''m going to take a rain check on that offer to spend the night with me."


    "Seriously, who are you, why are they launching you in space? Does this have anything to do with the Sixth Attraction?"


    "You know you want me," he said as the crew pushed him into the ship.


    ¡°Are you Batman¡¯s Joker?¡± The similarity with the famous character was too direct to ignore.


    ¡°What a great suggestion,¡± he simply added as the door locked behind him.


    ***


    On the ship''s belly, eight long crab legs were designed to anchor their tips to the low gravity ice of Io. On Io, hammering down the ice bedrock created a counter-force, a pushback away from the slippery surface. On the tip of each leg was a curved titanium hook mounted with a compressor hammer to push the tip into the surface without significant reciprocal force pushing back. The legs were also designed to walk the capsule to thinner parts of the ice before the drills could punch the carbonic ice. Comedians baptized the Lab "the trillion credit shrimp." They weren''t far from reality.


    In a matter of hours, the President''s science team had repurposed the locking mechanism into a Sun-shield. Two of the longer legs were now connected to spools weaving a shield. The technology uploaded from the Marilyn database was simple yet brilliant. Taking inspiration from spiders, a long golden thread was released between those two legs. Two other legs began to weave the strain into a web which looked like a parachute with fist-size openings. Once the shield was knitted, the four legs spread apart and as they put tension on the line, the mesh openings tightened and closed like an iris, creating a deeper shadow on the Lab.


    By the time the Observer would be in view of Mercury, the shield would be five knitted layers thick and the shade could reach 98.3%. There was beauty in watching the golden strand move in weightlessness. The heat shield looked like a sail, but it was curved inwards from the tip of the legs to the nose of the ship. The cable''s round shape and gold color was designed to help the surface absorb solar photons needed in the cold outer edges of the solar system.


    The covering wasn''t wasted on the reverse trip to the Sun as it served as a solar battery powering up the ship. Normally this ship went outwardly past the asteroid belt in cold regions where power collection was critical. So close to the Sun, in the inner regions, the problem was not energy but cooling. Christian had rewired the power to serve an unknown function, some of the photons flowed to four of the nuclear thrusters. It appeared Christian was recharging batteries which, in theory, would not be needed. Emilio knew the man had a devious plan, in fact, he hoped he did.


    The living space inside the Lab was rather large for the odd couple. It was designed to host a larger crew launched on a multi-year journey to the outreach of the solar system. At the moment the craft was inhabited by two mentally unstable humans, and the mission reduced by a thousand days. In the history of space exploration, these two were the oddest explorers to ever set foot outside of our planet''s immediate reach.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Aside from the maniac flying the ship, one man alone felt good about the whole thing. President Emilio knew he had picked the right guy. Christian was perfect; he was unpredictable, unstable but logical.


    Christian Maltais, the Captain, for lack of a better term, was a chain-smoker and a homicidal maniac. He''d once tried to release the Black Plague and destroy the world. He had deep, dark circles below each eye from abuse of caffeine, nicotine, and opiates. The man''s typical breakfast included half a pack of French Gauloises and eight cups of the darkest brew possible. Next to him, still sedated, slept the centenarian chairman of Blackberry, the META many called ¡°the ghost.¡± The couple was already making news down on Earth. Nick was tied to a large padded chair. Christian was still under the shock of being trusted with this suicidal one-way mission.


    ***


    With the help of thick magnetic books and a voice in his ear, delayed by a couple of seconds, he pushed buttons and prepared the launch of what they called a "static probe." Through the rounded window at the Lab''s nose tip, he looked at the Sun shield. In the center of the knitting, he could see a gold circle the size of a basketball. The probe would be launched directly ahead at the Sun, into that hole, and past the shields.Christian knew that mercury, invisible to the naked eye, was floating there in its elliptical, now halfway between the burning gas and the Lab. The Sun''s rays were too powerful to allow the human eye to distinguish the rock. He prepared the static probe. The ground engineers were helpful and eager to please, so he did what came naturally. He insulted them.


    "We have one chance at this sir," a calm voice said into his ear. "Your printers should have finished all the pieces requiring assembly; there was little time."


    The President loved his Jester for a simple reason, the man''s brilliance was beyond question. A normal man would have taken marching orders. Christian was not a normal man. "Not sure why there wasn''t a static probe on this piece of crap if you were going to Io. There is electrostatic differential there, no?"


    He had a point. It was very difficult for non-space travelers to understand static issues. On Earth, a person who wore insulating shoes could rub a balloon in her hair and see static electricity. In space, every body floated in void, alone and insulated. Each planet, moon, and satellite held a different static charge. The Sun kept sending electric energy. As a body of a probe approached a moon or a planet, arcs of static energy jumped to equalize charge. Mercury was a body charged beyond imagination. The last probe, as it passed over the ground, saw long arcs resembling lightning jump to meet it when it got within a mile of the surface. The Lab was equipped with static generators designed to adjust the equilibrium of the static charges and thus avoid the deadly lightning strikes. Static lightning rods placed at the tip of the crab legs of the shield would normally be sufficient to prevent destruction. But driving into a thunderstorm was always a problem and landing on a different planet was much worse.


    Christian was getting ready to push a button and release a probe which would accelerate using nuclear thrusters, eventually reaching 330,000 miles per hour once it hit mercury. Normally, the forward moving probe would reach the planet about an hour before the Lab. By measuring the precise remaining distance between the mercurian ground and the probe when static lightning began to strike it, it would be possible to calculate the difference in charge. The ship would then have to adjust itself or blow up.


    To electricians, static energy was second nature. In space, every floating body was insulated from its neighbor. With time, loose electrons charged neighboring satellites on the geostationary belt around the earth until one day the difference was sufficient to jump between two satellites and destroy one. The art of static management in space travel was still in infancy. Since the probe launched by the ship shared the same electric potential, the welcoming arc of a mile or two would warn the ship and provide a basis for compensation. By igniting static generators, the ship''s electric potential could be altered until the arc would no longer be deadly for the visitors.


    "I can''t believe I have to print these pieces, assemble them and launch this fucking probe by myself. That cries of incompetence," said Christian to base over the general communication system. He wasn''t enjoying having to play engineer. That was below him.


    "The Lab was designed for a four-year mission. Most of the equipment wouldn''t have been required until years after departure. Pieces needed at arrival were designed to be printed later in the trip. The probe protects passengers more than the ship."


    "You are telling me the Io mission was designed to reach completion even without humans?"


    "Roger that. Humans are a problem on these missions. But we were unable to get funding even if we designed very sexy robots."


    "You space people do think ahead, do you?"


    "A lot of things can go wrong in four years. Once piece #22C is finished, can you hold it and float to the inertial weighing machine in the corner there."


    "I am not sure I get what you are saying."


    "The last piece is #22C. If its inertial mass is correct, we can assume all other previous pieces were printed properly. If you prefer, we can have you verify the weigh of all the pieces."


    "That''s fine. What''s your name?"


    "Me?"


    "No, the guy floating next to me. Yes, you idiot, what''s your name?"


    "Sudip."


    "Can I call you Stupid?" The man felt awkward being on a first name basis with such a man.


    The donut-shaped room was complicated. The Jester floated in the engineering bay. Behind each of the hundreds of panels were tools and spare parts. Several of the white wall panels were now floating along with some tools. They kept floating down to the ground behind him and bouncing. Ground Command first tried to force the man to tidy up as the tools were no longer needed, but they soon gave up. No logic or reason made the man comply. Between the panels floated a dark grey metal ball. Its shape was uneven. It drifted between Christian and the tip of the Lab, where a small hatch and window could lie. The Sun was getting larger in the center of the glistening gold cables of the shield. Christian floated to the handle. The engineer did not respond to the insult. "Now move it around. The machine will calculate from inertia. It should read 103.450 kilograms."


    It did.


    The Jester read the next panel of instructions. They asked him to load a nuclear thruster into the probe. That sounded dangerous. "Are you sure I can transfer a nuclear thruster from this hole to this device without getting a sunburn?" He expected white lies from the ground. Instead, a different voice replied, he knew the voice.


    "Who cares if you slow cook like a rabbit?" It was the voice of Patrick Martin, Emilio¡¯s chief military expert. ¡°A little more radiation won¡¯t hurt."


    "My sister!" Replied the Jester as he followed the instructions. His smile got even larger. He grabbed the probe, put it over the allegedly nuclear-trusted hatch, clicking and flipping some switches. "We would make a sexy couple, still upset you refused to have sex with me." Everyone on the line from military personnel to mission command cringed. The audience went up.


    Patrick felt an odd compassion for the man stuck in the spaceship, and he knew Christian loved to be pushed and challenged. "You know your life expectancy is the same as a fresh strawberry right now?" The pair¡¯s humor was priceless.


    The man laughed. "We both have the same chance of getting blown tonight by your wife, and I''m the one falling toward to the Sun. That has to hurt." The humor was crude but genuine. This person, after decades of prison time in a psychiatric ward, had agreed to embark on this suicide mission. He genuinely was happy to do it. Patrick had half offered to go, objecting that the fate of humanity should not rest on such a mind, but was relieved when Emilio refused.


    "You know Electoral is picking you up in just a few minutes, right?"


    "Dear perfect son and sexless sister, to the risk of shocking you, what is Electoral?"


    "The game."


    "What game?" as he spoke, all the screens in the Lab changed. On each was the face of Marilyn Monroe. She blew a kiss. Below her face, in large letters, was a message: "Calling you in 27.216 minutes." Christian blinked, grinned madly, and said "Nevermind."


    The voice of the digital creature hit the speakers. "Charrue," no one called Christian that name anymore, but the creature pretending to be Marilyn Monroe just had. "Power the probe from the other compartment, the one next to Nick. The kick will wake him up."


    Christian felt like he needed his most potent survival tool back: humor. Each time he felt out of his comfort zone, he joked, and that eased his nerves. Sarcasm was one of his favorites. As he loaded the probe into the hatch, he replied to the artificial intelligence. "How much does it cost to have digital sex with you? I''m sure I can get a loan I won''t be able to repay. My dad once said perfect money management is making sure the last check you make in your life bounces."


    "You do know checks went out of circulation around 2027?" answered the creature.


    "Why are you telling me this?"


    Her answer stunned him. "Better ratings." The Jester was having the blast of his miserable life, this was living.


    Christian pushed a couple of buttons and clipped the probe to the nuclear engine. All lights above the door turned to green.


    "No one told you about Electoral? About me?"


    "Oh!? About you? Who the fuck do you think you are?" said the Jester is a sarcastic tone. "Just call me John F. If you want. My wife is named Jackie. Do you mind having sex with me in public to make her the laughing stock of the whole world? She has two young kids if that helps."


    "Good one, very funny. The teeny part of me in the electronics of your razor is laughing hysterically. I took a quick poll, and the rest of me does not find you amusing. Let me repeat myself because you''re no longer as sharp as you once were, back before you had to use chemicals for your manhood to work.¡±


    "Ouch," he interrupted.


    "Truth hurts, doesn''t it? The next round of my game will help you and your mission. I actually like you. Oh, who am I kidding? No one likes you. You''ll be dead soon."


    The screens returned to normal. The voice of Patrick returned in his ear. "Did Marilyn just talk to you?"


    "She sure did. What a bitch."


    "She is rather invasive."


    "Should I take her seriously?"


    "Those who do not seem to run into trouble. I suggest you do. We remain unclear what is to her role in all of this. What we can confirm is that she is extremely powerful." The Jester knew better than to question Patrick. He thanked him and returned to the back and sat next to Nick''s sleeping body. He flicked the slimy old bastard''s nose again.


    Pushing a button, the Jester launched the probe. There was a jolt as the device divested itself of the lab and began to accelerate.


    As Marilyn had said, it woke Nick. "Good morning, beautiful. Coffee?" said the killer to his grumpy guest.


    The man took a minute to awaken and survey his surroundings. The lack of gravity was a giveaway as to where he was. "You? Aren''t you locked in a padded room of a mental institution?" Grumbled the CEO in a haze. "You''re that fruitcake, right? Human stupidity to keep you alive all these years. You deserve a bullet."


    "We get a day off every decade for good conduct. Can''t say you expected this."


    "What is this?" he raised his hands showing the restraints. The pale skin of his wrist was cut and bruised.


    "Skin in desperate need of moisturizer?" The Jester could not control himself. "Happy to see that vampire body of yours can still bleed." He next pointed at a screen. "Say hello to our friends back home. The communication lag is about a hundred seconds now."


    "Minutes?"


    "Yes. Are you going to repeat everything I say? I hate stupid questions. Am I to understand your IQ was once 143? To answer your question, we are light seconds away from Earth on our way to Mercury, so yes, the delay is now minutes and growing." He waved his hands. "Want to know what was hard? I mean, other than my nethers at the moment it dawned on me that I was kidnapping you." Before Nick could answer, the tall man reached into a large bag and pulled out potato chips. He opened it. "You know how many people I had to piss off to get potato chips in a weightless environment? In their new ship?" He crunched a crisp, and a couple of small pieces drifted away in the weightless cabin. Christian quickly licked his now-salty thumb and forefinger and in one smooth motion, dried his fingers on the Chairman''s shirt as he pointed at the launch button he''d pushed just moments ago. "That was called a static probe launch. It''s just a ball of metal launched ahead. As it gets closer to Mercury, billions of years of static electricity will create massive lightning strikes between mercury and..."


    "I know what this fucking probe does; I built it!" Nick''s wits were returning, "A mullet in space? Not sure that''s very flattering on you. Wear a tie, and while at it, spin the ship and anchor the end around whatever is about to become the overhead compartment."


    The Jester laughed, "There''s my travel buddy! The king of sarcasm is back. I knew you were a great pick for co-pilot. They initially refused, you know; they said you still have what they called "human rights." Yeah, but I convinced them you were no human."


    Christian clapped his hands in joy. "All right, this show can get started. A potato chip?"


    "A latte, two sugars. I know the sugar is bad for me," replied the ghost, "but who cares, right?"


    "Yes, yes, yes." The man''s eyes were twitching. He was thinking. He was hysterically happy. Things were, pun intended, going fast.


    "Can I know what we are doing here? My guess is you need me for something."


    "I do. It''s rather complicated. You''re a fortunate man, Oh St. Nick, because I highly doubt you''ve been a good boy this year. Marilyn herself says she has this in the can. I know those genetically modified retinas of yours are too weak for contacts," he offhandedly continued. The broadcast began. "She promised to explain our mission. Merry Christmas!"


    They were getting ready for the broadcast.


    ¡°This is insane,¡± said the Ghost.


    ¡°On so many ways.¡± The Jester was right.

 Chapter 79

    Round 28 - 32 Players Left


    The Fuller Crater


    21 Days to the Sixth Attraction


    Anyone alive and able to connect to the Electoral system had already done so. Once by pure desire for excitement, now as a matter of survival. Marilyn¡¯s digital reality filled billions of screens around the solar system, encompassing even the nearly nine-hundred non-Earthborns residents of the Moon. Watching also were the two-hundred ex-players on Mars and the nearly hundred hotel staff. Most importantly, the two madmen piloting the Io Explorer a light minute away were also watching their own live feed.


    The colors, the resolution had no equal, this digital world was on steroids and Marilyn now delivered pure reality undistinguished from the real world. As the Rho wave-powered introduction swept over her audience, even the dullest and most skeptical watchers realized that Electoral''s computing power now was boundless. Those using glasses, known colloquially as "Orbisons," would be watching the round in full 3D from multiple angles. No mere movie producer could rival this technology, even though the glasses themselves were relatively old technology. Most used contact lens for a fully immersive experience.


    ***


    The introduction of Round 28 began with electronic thunder. Heavy metal music played as images from the solar system blinked from ordinary celestial images to hand-drawn comic reality. Marilyn had drawn on a very old method of seeking to combine the fluidity and realism of a live camera shot with the dreamlike lucidity of adjustable realism of special effects animation. Electoral was now spectacularly employing its latest descendant, and she was doing it on-the-fly while simultaneously broadcasting it to the entire solar system. This was beautiful.


    The first two minutes of the introduction were shown from the vantage point of a space probe traveling within the solar system. Marilyn showed the Milky Way in a sea of galaxies and then took a step back to introduced hundreds of worlds of the Multiverse. These images, inspired by Sophie''s interaction with the supreme intelligence, consisted of light, music and a grandiose spectacle of science.


    Marilyn swung the camera''s viewpoint as it traveled back through the solar system, passing Mars and Earth as it moved toward the Sun. The white orb grew until it occupied the whole sky. Mercury, barely visible at first  was a dot in the distance. Then, the panoramic view captured the Io Explorer as it beat all speed records toward the destination.


    The Mercury Landing


    -- Electoral 2072 / Round 28 --


    (500 hours to the Sixth Attraction)


    Waves of all types were created and flooded in her system. The shared experience was common to all minds; they each responded to the stimuli and like music, the waves meshed and resonated. The music Marilyn designed and played into the system helped reinforced the harmonics. The brain waves created by each viewer, much like the movement of dancers of a rave party, began to pulse. From an invisible observer, deep in space the blue gem of Earth sparkled, but digitally.


    The energy began to flood the solar system. This was a rare self-amplified process: the happier were the viewers, the greater the flow of Rho waves, which in turn made the person happier. The process was the serpent eating its own tail. Marilyn Monroe was the conductor of this dangerous symphony of mass euphoria. With each round, her filtration algorithms were getting stronger and sharper. As they did, the game became more addictive to watch and play and she could back power she would need.


    Round 28 began with thirty players connected in the aligned tubes of the amphitheater room at the Electoral Center on Mars. Only the two scoreboard leaders were missing. Laurent was in the room below the tubes. Invisible to all but George¡¯s from his consoles, the Electoral system was trying to compensate and even out the odds by funneling waves to the other players.


    The second absent player was Emilio, who remained on Earth. The President slipped into the chamber in front of friends and guests. He placed the ring of sensors around his head and closed his eyes. Immediately he began to sweat, and the tube¡¯s ventilation kicked in to the point where his hair moved.


    The chambers powered-up, then the Electoral system and finally was created an invisible bridge between Earth and Mars. The music swooped up and down the musical scale. It played during the entire introduction. Electoral 2072 took almost ten minutes to recap the events leading up to the Sixth Attraction. The viewers saw a montage of the solar system, the Multiverse, the Purple, and flying vignettes of the main protagonists of the Sixth Attraction. Marilyn showed the moment when she''d used Sophie''s power to steal the Dot. The video carefully supplemented Emilio''s summary. The story was getting too complicated to describe yet too important to ignore or forget. Laurent wasn''t described as a cripple; he was a multi-faceted man, a superhero with a secret game identity. There was no pity in Marilyn''s depiction of Laurent. Laurent was a creature half-way between the real world and the digital world. Marilyn knew how to dramatize events. The last segment was about the doomsday events cascading around Sophie''s birthday. Somehow, Marilyn edited the Attractor our of the story.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Once the credits stopped, the viewers saw Mars floating alone in space. The music also settled.


    ***


    There was a long and lucrative commercial. Viewers did not know if the artificial intelligence wanted to keep a sense of normalcy to the game or if the entire Attraction story wasn''t a ploy for higher ratings. When Round 28 of Electoral 2072 resumed, the same singer slowly transitioned from heavy metal to a deeply voiced love ballad only such singers could belt out. The voice ran heavy with emotion. He sang music everyone recognized on some level or another.


    On the screen was a Martian backdrop.


    "Intelligent life began on Mars a long, long time ago," narrated Marilyn. "Back then, Earth was in its Triassic era; this happened hundreds of million years ago. Large dinosaurs roamed primitive Earth instead of men." On the screen, time began to rewind. The Sun in the red sky of Mars halted a slowly reversed its course in the sky once, twice then accelerating to illustrate how time moved. To further illustrate her point, the Holliday Inn and all structures was disassembled, undone as time moved backwards.


    "Mars wasn''t always the fourth planet from the Sun. Instead, Mars was closer, it was here." The view showed the inner solar system and its small inner planets: Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars. Mercury was shown as a black ball, Venus was yellow, Mars a red rock closed next to the shining blue Earth. On the screen, red planet began to move closer to the Sun, slide up in orbit , as it did from the outer region to its new location. It came closer and passed Earth and went to take an unstable orbit closer orbit between Venus and Earth. As the three planets moved, the entire system seemed unstable.


    ¡°Mars, Earth and Venus were close, neighbors but interfering with each other. The current gap between Earth and Venus is about 42 million kilometers. While that might feel like a long distance, remember that''s only a hundred times the distance that separates us from our Moon. If you factor the elliptical orbits," the small bodies began to orbit at different tilts and bends, "this happens.¡±


    The dance of the planets became unstable. Mars located between Earth and Venus destabilized the system. "I was able to calculate what happened in the past."


    Like a brick thrown in a washing machine, each year, each orbit began to move wider and wider. Things swirled and orbited until there was contact between two planets, Venus and Mars. Marilyn stopped the animation at the contact. ¡°One day, which I call Genesis, Mars almost hit Venus and one moon hit the crust of Mars," the images were incredible, "millions of pounds crashed. Cooling planets lose all volcanic activity and gas from inside accumulates like a grenade. The shock was sufficient to crack open the thick and rigid mantle of Mars. Electrostatic discharges filled the skies as the moon fell.¡±


    The inner pressure sent a massive quantity of toxic gas up to Venus. An enormous plume of gas shot up exchanging atmospheres between the two planets. Venus'' moon also exploded in hundreds of pieces as it flew away filling the solar systems with millions of rocks.


    Everyone watching was in awe. "Thus was born the deadly gas Venus. The impact on Mars created the Mons we now see, the scar testament to this sad day." Marilyn continued to broadcast the events she was describing in shockingly high definition. ¡°Deimos, now the second irregular moon of Mars, joined its orbit.¡±


    "The rest is history. For seven days and seven nights there was darkness," said Marilyn, again invoking the Book of Genesis. "The skies fell, then a rain of sulfur, all life was destroyed." As the rocks hit the Earth, volcanoes exploded and dinosaurs vanished. It took seven thousand years for the Sun to return on Earth." There were no words to be placed in the mouth of the viewers. Everyone watching was in shock. The images were very realistic. In minutes they had witnessed events so realistic that everyone wondered why scientists had never suggested them. Was any of this even possible?


    ***


    "Martians, once living as biological creatures knew Genesis was coming." The movement of the planets stopped, and Marilyn returned the planets in a configuration just before the destruction. She zoomed on a Mars with some plant life. Flew out about twenty blue crystals ships. "To avoid extinction, the Martians changed forms and became non-biological. They transferred their souls into puffs of sand, likely to survive. A handful of ships set out to the four corners of the system in came Mars itself was demolished."


    The view settled on the red planet. The images showed specs of sand, forming as structures in a dirty, murky water flowing in the canyon. ¡°The inhabitants of Mars were desperate. Each flew to a different planet and moon of the system. All of these missions proved to be a disaster. Venus, Earth and the moons were not stable enough to host these fragile creatures. Gas and rocks flew. No one survived or ever returned, and today the creatures on Mars remain angry, upset and frustrated for their incapacity to anticipate or protect themselves. They barely exist on a dead planet." There was an image of one of the blue ships crashing into Earth¡¯s lunar ash only to be hit by one of the falling meteoroids.


    The view switched to the present. It showed the Electoral Center seen from about a hundred miles away. To the left was the giant crater, the natural canyon called the Valles Marineris. A sandstorm was rising over the Valles as if an army of creatures were attacking. In the distance could be seen the spike of her Center. ¡°One ship fell on Mercury, one group of creatures are landlocked awaiting salvation. You, my friends will get to observe in real time.¡±


    There was another long commercial pause.

 Chapter 80

    Even Milly, CNN''s daring mars reporter in the Center, knew better than to take time away from the game. Marilyn was a goddess at her craft. When the game resumed, each viewer could see the solar system as a whole, one blue ship flew. "One of these ships crashed in a the most inhospitable location. A hundred primitive stranded creatures await hidden by a wall of energy." She illustrated a vision of the blue crystal ship launched from Mars traveling and crashing on Mercury in a small crater next to the North Pole.


    Marilyn needed each player to possess identical knowledge. Her system was so powerful, she instantly digested forty years of history regarding the Jester. From it, she created useful information to help players slip into the role of the madman. Christian was likely to use, along with information about his past actions and personality. The thirty two players were disciplined and absorbed the massive amount of information as Marilyn finished the introduction.


    Two minutes later, the darkness of space returned to every screen. In bold letter floated the roadmap for the rest of the game:


    Electoral 2072


    The Sixth Attraction


    Round 28 - 32 players


    Round 29 - 16 players (November 3)


    Round 30 - 8 players - Quarter finales (November 7)


    Round 31 - 4 players - Semi finales (November 15)


    Round 32 - 2 players - The Sixth Attraction (November 21)


    This was exciting on a number of different levels. The election of a President felt secondary to the doomsday scenario forecasted to occur. On Sophie''s birthday, in three weeks, the young caregiver would witness her father play against the President in what would be, to everyone but her, a cinematic experience with no equal.


    The game began.


    ***


    Mars floated alone in the darkness of space of the Digital World.


    On each screen, the point of view rotated dramatically from the red planet to the center of our little world we call the Solar System. It moved and followed a long detour around the sun only to wrap around the star until the camera settled in orbit of Mercury. The perfectly rounded rock had no natural or manmade satellite. It looked like a darker moon covered by ashes. Here there was no atmosphere. This planet, like Earth¡¯s Moon, was in theory dead. The battlefield craters gave evidence meteoroids pummeled the surface, mostly from Genesis.


    "Mercury," narrated Marilyn, "flooded each day by hot solar energy. A relentless flow of electromagnetic charge drowns this place in pure magnetic and electromagnetic fields. Invisible plasma cooks this desolate world. This hell is so close to the Sun, this place is like living inside a working microwave oven.¡±


    The goddess took the time to play with long solar flares exploding high in the heliosphere of the Sun, their dark shadows and then the downpour of deadly electrons over the planet. Waves of energy hit the ground from all angles, not unlike nuclear tests in the Nevada desert. "This bombardment of energy considerably limits my capacity to see what lives on this planet''s surface and so did the martians - we both had no idea creatures were hidden here.¡±


    "Ninety-one million years ago, a colony of martians crashed here." Marilyn illustrated a small blue ship shining in space, behind it in the distance the Genesis. As it came closer to the ground, it was hit by hundreds of electric arcs. ¡°This planet is supercharged with energy, some jumps up to welcome the low energy craft to the dismay of these creatures.¡±The shit was zapped a thousand times in a second. It landed, powerless. The cornucopia of energy paired with the solar wind created pulse after pulse of energy within the ship. As it approached, there were explosions and fumes. It finally landed on the dirty ground and cracked open like a walnut.


    The camera angle switched to a ground view of the fuming ship.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    From behind the alien ship walked out Marilyn. Every round, she loved to make a dramatic entrance. Round 28 would be no exception. She was wearing a large white spacesuit from Alpha base played in Round 24. She smiled under the rounded helmet and badges from her old show. In the bulky suit, her make-up and hair remained impeccable. She bounced on the charred ground, took several paces and looked closer at the shrinking vessel. Then, little puffs of sand ventured out of the belly of the ship like a man''s last dying breath. "The radiation burned every piece of equipment of this ship.¡± It cracked further open. ¡°These visitors barely escaped with their lives. I know a handful of sand creatures live today in this unique place on Mercury.¡± The sand flew out in little puffs. ¡°They slowly crawled to there," she pointed to her left at a small mountain. At her feet, she illustrated the hard migration. "Behind this two hundred meter ridge, on the edge of this crater, named the Fuller Crater."


    "This crater is close to the planet¡¯s North Pole. It surrounds the magnetic pole and that is important to a magnetically-based life-form." In a blink, she illustrated the complex vortex of energy floating above the planet and the energy pairing with the magnetic pole. There were red hues everywhere, and like the eye of a storm, the north part of the crater was an island of tranquillity to the creatures. This place was a lighthouse on a rock between two merging oceans.


    When the image returned to Marilyn, she was no longer next to the alien ship but climbing down the rim, bouncing ten feet at a time. "Underneath this plate," she said as she settled on a dark slate of ice, she pointed at what looked like a giant black ice rink "are caverns where I think the stranded creatures live."


    "This is where our players come in. Look up," she pointed in the dark sky. "A spaceship was launched and is coming here from Earth. Given our proximity to November 21, the trip could only take days, not weeks. The astrophysics at work here are simple; the ship cannot slow down. The Io Lab has one pilot and a prisoner; we will soon meet them. But before getting into these boring details, we must discuss two important matters. The game is simple: you will play the pilot, Emilio¡¯s Jester. You have been given one hundred globes capable of housing the creatures. You must follow protocol, reach this location where you must find a way to communicate with this sand and get the creatures into the globes. Then shoot with a massive cannon you have assembled these creatures back to Earth. Once mankind has these creatures hostage, the war on Mars will stop.¡±


    ¡°At the fastest, their trip back to Earth will take two weeks. Once back on Earth, with these creatures in hand, Emilio may be able to negotiate a peace with the Martians.¡±


    In the blink of an eye, on each screen Marilyn was back on Mars, outside. She was wearing a simple cocktail dress and high heels. The movie star was walking, in the airless atmosphere on the rocky terrain. "This is my home. I do not mind sharing it but I will not be expatriated again. It''s a principle. When I arrived, I could not imagine I would be sharing it with a hostile species. These inhabitants came to me. They slipped into Georges'' body, took over his mind and without permission began to snap orders. They wanted me to rebuild their world. I was at that moment somewhat vulnerable. Our home was under construction, and my power was a fraction of what it is today.


    Marilyn did something strange, she bent and placed a hand over the sand. Below it, vegetation began to grow. "My computing power told me the real intent of this race was to colonize Earth, to sterilize it. My probes confirm the lifeless ship sent to Earth millions of years ago crashed in the Himalayan ice. I lied and told them it was still filled with creatures. Ironically, that was the case on Mercury, not Earth. I had them agree to send a hundred balls to Earth as vessels to rescue their own moments before they plan to destroy Earth. A rescue from Mercury will do as well.¡±


    "So let me repeat the mission because I know this may be complex. Each will play the Jester. You land must on Mercury. Walk to the Fuller Crater, convince the creatures to enter these balls in the ship, assemble a set of rockets and send them back to Earth. Simple? It is not.¡±


    She grabbed a handful of sand at her feet. It began to form a creature floating above her hand. ¡°Let Round 28 begin!¡±


    ¡°Oh, I almost forgot, the scoring. The power of this game will now seem obvious when you learn how the 32 players will play today¡¯s simulations. Each person, the thirty two will play sequentially from the lowest score to Emilio. Each, like an extra life in a video game will be watching as the others play. The lowest ranking player will begin and try to run the simulation as far in the timeline as possible and die trying. Once that person runs into a problem and the mission fails, the next player gets to jump in back at the start. Hopefully players should get wiser, faster, farther down toward the goal and save earth. By the time this is done, the real pilot watching from the Io Lab will benefit from a total of thirty-two scenarios.


    ¡°This is like playing a video game, only the 33th run will be for real. The score must be determined differently, almost arbitrary. Both men on the Lab share one trait: their uncontrollable and very dark sense of humor. They can''t help themselves, so I will score this game based on how humorous you can be during this game. It''s not the best, but without humor, there is no way Emilio''s Jester will watch more than five minutes of this game. He and Sophie are rather similar in this way."


    The camera showed Marilyn''s place an open hand over the dry sand, a flower blooming on the martian soil. She snapped it off, smelled it and slid it in her hair. "Good luck, you are not playing a game. You are helping improve the odds to save mankind from destruction. I hope it works and unlike Sophie, the pilot will use my help. Oh, in case you wonder how any human can survive once in the planet, we gave him a very powerful virus able to protect his body. We will talk more about it later.¡±

 Chapter 81

    Sophie kept reading the book over and over in her island of peace. Outside the world moved but here, within her mind, she was at peace. Every word of this book felt simply delicious. Her favorite character was the White Queen, she did not have such a large role in the story, but her few words inspired her. Her favorite line was ¡°I daresay you haven''t had much practice,'' said the Queen. ''When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I''ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.¡±


    Impossible things were her bread and butter these days. A couple of years ago, she was asked to believe her father was alive, that her mother spoke to her, she was a chosen one with powers to name a few. Then things really got out of control. She was tired of this stupid story outside. This Attraction was just impossible things. As the doctor ordered, a door appeared and a tall old lady, theWhite Queen walked in. She had long white hair and the most exquisite costume. Sophie stood up and as she did, Alice¡¯s long dress appeared. She bowed.


    ¡°Young lady,¡± snapped the Queen.


    ¡°Madam,¡± Sophie played along.


    ¡°What distress of yours I feel. Young girl, sadness fills your heart.¡± Sophie did not know what to say, she wanted to play the story but the answer had to address this real world. She just kept her head down. ¡°You need help it seems.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Nothing is easier.¡±


    ¡°It is?¡±


    ¡°Yes silly one. Yes.¡±


    ¡°How so,¡± the young girl finally looked up.


    ¡°The only way to find something is to first lose it, no?¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡±


    ¡°What have you recently lost?¡±


    Sophie¡¯s mind raced. So many things trickled in. Finally she answered, ¡°my capacity to see and care for simple things.¡±


    ¡°That is easy enough.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°People ask of their queen many things, justice, compassion, time. Each person wants parts of me. Parents want me to touch their newborns. At first I would try, I struggled to and I was pained by those I was unable to help, not by the many I would help. By wanting to help, I hurt myself and felt powerless, incompetent.¡±


    ¡°That is how I feel. What is the solution?¡±


    ¡°Very simple. Stop doing what they ask of you. A Queen has a role, a different one. Find your role.¡± She removed her crown and placed it on Sophie¡¯s head and headed back to the door.


    ¡°How do I find my role?¡±


    The question surprised the Queen. ¡°How easy.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°It is the one thing that brings you joy, true joy. What brings you joy?¡±


    Sophie wondered as the Queen left and the door vanished.


    ***


    She wondered what could bring her joy. She looked at the large book on her lap. She liked the gift, but that wasn¡¯t it. She saw the image of her father, Malik, Liam and again, that wasn¡¯t it. There was, simply said nothing that gave her real joy at the moment. She opened the book and decided to read it again. The story of the Attraction made no sense. None of it was relevant. There was something else at play, something the Multiverse needed her to do, a hidden thing. That was her purpose, to fix and heal the Multiverse. She had to find out what it was, but where to look.


    She was a Queen, had a new role.


    Who could have the answer?


    Then she knew. Her smile returned.


    The First Attraction. Liam had told her it had been successful.