Ø

"It occurs to me," said the man, looking up at him with a vaguely amused expression on his face, "Someone important ought't've written 'If writers are society's guilty conscience, science fiction writers are society's schizophrenia.' Whaddaya think about that, eh, Fox?" Fox punched him again- this time feeling bones break and chiclet teeth shatter under his plasteel-plated knuckles. The man slumped with the blow, rising to one elbow, mocking grin spitting broken gore. What the hell was so funny? Even here, in the Vamana, there was nothing left- not really. He's bleeding all over the damn furnishings- that's what they'd worked so hard to keep away from everyone, wasn't it?! Couldn't let the commons profane the Holy Relics; all along they'd been as unholy as anything else. 'An Ark for the better parts of our dying race,' they'd called it- nevermind the fact that the race wasn't fuaarking dying at all- nevermind that any one of these treasures could have been sold to finance a FUTURE- nevermind the fallout from the engines, henceforth carving a mutant wound across the Tropic of Cancer! Right in everyone's face, that's the latitude they chose. They were sick- whoever they were- they'd all cackleprattled on about the dangers of art falling into the wrong hands- infecting the wrong minds, giving rise to novel memomes, clustering into nootic organisms- of its roots in History- that long-drezzed discipline... "Don't move, Rat," Fox said icily- thumbing the hammer on his pistol. Rat- the bastard- he'd been going for his gun, after all this. "Move, and I'm going to blow out your knee- you don't get off this ride til I say." "Fuaark you, F-" BANG Screams. In the last library in the Terran atmosphere. Bitter laughter tore from Fox' throat at the sheer, hulking irony. Rat's screams grew shrill- edged with terror- ragged breathing- he's panicking, fuaark. Wrong time to laugh, but it was just so "DROP THE DAMN GUN, RAT." BANG BANG Silence. Fuuarking Rat. Fox was crying now, he dropped to his knees. The gun clanked against the marble, still clutched in his numb hand. Somewhere far away, Fox felt something give; hanging his head to look, blurred, not at Rat- anything but that- fuuark- at the once-priceless tile, shattered by the pistol. Screaming, crying, laughing, all three, sonic scrawl. Heavy footfalls coming now "WHY WEREN'T YOU HERE SOONER" up in a flash, bust of Joan of Arc smashes to the floor "SEND ME IN HERE TO SAVE HIM?" seething spitting, Moth, with her dronewings and G-Men folded neatly about her like a robe "YOU FUAARKING REPLICUNT, YOU KNEW- YOU KNEW HE'D READ IT ALREADY- SAVE HIM? WHY LIE? YOU COULDN'T KILL HIM YOURSELF-" BANGZZT BANGZZT BANGZZT harmless vapor CLICK CLICK CLICK SCREAM- he knew about the pointfield she wore, she knew he knew- the G-Men knew she knew he knew. Attempted murder, a mere child's tantrum in this hellworld, especially when she and her ilk were involved- like sticking your tongue out at God. He shut his mouth, threw the gun aside, and strode angrily to the window, lighting a smoke in one swift motion as he went; plasteel blast-panes open to reveal the Scar below- stretching almost to the horizon, the giant gaping sore of thaumatic scorch was a welcome sight compared to the prim and proper horrors behind him, he thought. "Are you finished?" she asked, sweetly. He didn't answer, but that didn't matter either- it was all the same here... he knew she knew they knew we all knew. "Yes, that's true." He frowned. "That was a guess- we both know you can't read minds, M. Only humans can, and even then-" "Psykers are a myth, Fox." Fox gave a hollow laugh. "And we both know that's a lie," he turned to face her, "Hastur exists- and if Hastur exists, that means there's at least one psyker on Terra. Books can't write themselves, let alone come to life on their fuaarking own." He studied her face- pointless, of course- it was a vat-grown abomination of unbearable beauty, like all the others she'd worn, and would wear long after he'd gone- why this one? Did she pick at random, or was there some logic, some preference, some shred of data there about the true intelligence behind the flesh and blood and nanospice? Some edge to... to what? Even if there was one, what leverage coud be brought to bear on an escaped hive mind made flesh, tempered with Arisian tech? He sighed.

>>5124 "Hastur's just a meme- Fox. A particularly nasty nootic virus- that's all." "You weren't here- you didn't see him, talk to him...you..." he looked, then, for the first time at the red crater where Rat's face had been. He didn't see it, even now- the signal just didn't make it through the noise. The inhuman glint behind Rat's laughing eyes, as bloodletting screams echoed out of a manic, cavernous grin. "I have you to thank for that, Fox. Truly. Your analysis was correct- I'd grown rather fond of this one. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Men's work, putting down rabid animals." Fox choked down the bile rising in his throat- why ask if that was all Rat had been to her in the end? She'd only say yes- and that would be more terrible than this terrible silence. "Am I through here?" he said, voice hoarse and glass-dry all of a sudden. "Yes." He pushed past her, past her honor guard of G-Men, who parted to let him pass, past the shelves upon shelves, past the glass cases, the paintings, the sculptures and scrolls, past the containment doors, out onto the mezzanine. "Take me back to Neo Seoul." "Of course, Fox. There's a Chamber," Fox winced at the damned word, "on board the schooner outside," crooned M, suddenly beside him, into his ear- every lowering syllable dripping honey-sweet with subtle static. "Oh, Foxie... did I upset you?" her angelic visage flowing into a concerned pout, "Was it something I said?" She'd taken his elbow now, gliding beside him like a chord- filling the cold void with her poppy-poison presence. It wasn't his fault he loved her- he knew that- everyone loved her- she was made to be loved- born from the deepest secrets of old mankind- their private messages, their pictures, their conversations, their digitized passion, their desires. He laughed inwardly; primitive man had been so trusting in their "encryption!" "What good is a walled gate with no roof?" Fox felt her head flow into the crook of his shoulder. "Hmm?" she queried, lazily. Fox frowned- he hadn't meant to say that out loud- blue hells, but she was so damnably comfortable- a few more steps, at least this was real, unlike... But it wasn't! He forced himself to remember- she was no more real than any of it- Neo-Seoul, the Agency, the Syndicate, even the Fey Forest- at least not anymore. Just because she was present, in the flesh, along with him here- on what might properly be called Tera Prime, she wasn't human- Humanity itself, maybe, but not human. He'd seen the infinte depths of depravity that balanced this alien perfection in the cursed machine-soul of the Moth- not moments ago she'd admitted to sending him here, knowing that Rat had seen the Sign, knowing Fox could have caught it too... he tore away from her fluid grip with far more force than was necessary, and slammed painfully into the wall. "You could have killed him yourself," he spat, "you can't get infected, and you know it- the Arisians saw to all that when they vomited you up." She folded her arms, considering him with a bored expression on her face.

>>5125 "You're such a biogot, Fox. Your opinions about my kind went out of fashion...ohhhhhh...." she mockingly counted on her fingers for a moment "...carry the 2...TENS OF THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO." Fox opened his mouth to defend himself, "Oh hush, Foxie, I'm only kidding- we can't blame a historical relic for being a product of their time, now can we? There there, there's no need for it, dear- we've done this so many times before and it always casts such a pall over my memories of you." "False memories, Jyla." Her face didn't change- why would it- just another name in an infinite catalogue of names, another plot in an endless index of plots. He'd expected something, some hint of venom, but... nothing, just her usual radiant doe-eyed half-smile with a cherry on top, considering him, lovingly. Emerald-green eyes like pristine mountain pools on Titan...gentle tendrils pried heuristically at phantom edges, coaxing transistors, humming breath gently motivating circuits to fire out of order; fading in, walking towards him, raising gentle velvet curtain nightwings zipping up the world in their wake, fading up- hardwood floor, that old place on Pine, before Kowloon, before it all, right at the very begginning, with the antique bluetooth stereo his father's father handed down, trees rustling in the summer wind outside the window, the music coming in now, pulling back the curtains to see. She pulls him away into the music, catching the tone, finding the groove together "...But if you take her, take her easy" dancing clumsily like couples do, catching the "Treat her gentle, she used to love me See the little girl lost, pleading silently for help" tone finding common ground on the spiral energy flow pulsing from that God-given radio "Knowing no one understands her, she don't understand herself She'll feed your hungry ego til you think you're quite a man But you better count your fingers when she turns loose of your hand" round, round, breathing together, moving together, kicking up little poufs of dust from that antique rug together "Cause you're just a game she's playing any way that she can win And you ain't about to touch her any deeper than her skin" she leans heavily into him, covering him with her scent, her cares, the weight of the whole world, and he leans back with her, into the softest bed you've ever seen, "In that body anybody can control, but the devil's got her soul" Like a lightswitch, it was all gone- he was strapped down in the cold Chamber, watching her slowly walk away through the viewport. He tried to scream in rage, but the tube down his throat blocked anything but a jolt of pain. He felt the departure fluid reach his neck- heard the gentle voice of the guidance system counting "...8....9" his eyes went under "10. 10. 10. Breathe normally, and relax," he felt the splash in his veins, the meridian-response sparkles at the base of his skull, vision dimming to black, then octarine. Fox began to blur and swim "11. Your awareness is expanding beyond your physical body" it was useless to fight the spiraling light carrying him softly downup, away, away, "12. Your awareness has expanded beyond your physical" away, from her, "body. Relax, here. The transfer" "But if you take her, take her easy Treat her gentle, she used to love me." Fox faded with the song.

some stupendiferous nonsense. Put a whole story around this climax and it'll be a good one