THE STORY SO FAR: An almost wholly cerebral entity from humanity's far future, forced into a merging of minds with Staute from 1972, transforms itself into a superhuman synthetic version of a 20th century woman in order to better adapt to its new mate. However, the change was not without risk for all involved. Staute successfully helped the entity through various crises brought upon it by the changes. Both the future being and Staute are forever changed by the experience.

Symantici, Thantia, and I-- with the aid of other Sol-- kept Ovizatataron's existence a secret from the crew of the Pagnew. Why? Essentially Thantia made the decision, since she was by far the smartest among us. Her reasoning?

*Revealing the presence of possibly the first live alien contact in history would create an open-ended matrix of new complexities. Jerry, you must be allowed return to origin: otherwise our event-line could unravel. The Pagnew's replacement of you with a crew member is by no means fail-safe. The superverse is more complex than those who designed such a plan can know.*

*But I thought you two said Ovizatataron might just be a figment of my own imagination or something? Sort of a second personality, like was common in my day?*

*Yes, that is a possibility, Conceptor. But the data indicates other viable explanations as well; some including true alien infiltration.*

My link with Sym had pretty much blinded me to anything and everything else since I got here; the sensations and wonderment were just overwhelming. And whenever I did briefly consider the strangeness of an entity calling itself "Ovizatataron" residing in my skull with me, I just sort of shrugged it off as maybe some sort of mental aberration caused by all the wild stuff happening to me on this voyage. I mean, I'd lived vicariously through comic book super heroes when I was a kid: and imaginary friends weren't all that uncommon for young folks. I'd heard of grown ups with split or multiple personalities in my own time, too: sometimes due to far less dramatic stuff than I'd experienced so far. Heck: maybe it was just some sort of self-defense mechanism, triggered by Sym's intrusion into my head. Maybe that subliminal stuff aboard the Pagnew (which made me physically ill) also helped create it. Maybe it was just something temporary, which would go away on its own, once things calmed down a bit.

I could vividly recall my initial impressions of Sym herself being an alien, when she'd first come storming into my mind. Especially after I saw her original physical form. Yech!

Somehow-- miraculously, even-- I'd managed to put all that behind me. But Thantia's latest pronouncements on the matter alarmed me anew. I could accept the possibility I was going crazy, with everything which had happened up to now (who wouldn't?). But it was a different thing entirely to learn I might be possessed-- or inhabited-- or whatever-- by something from another planet. I mean, he was inside my head! What could be worse? Might I soon find myself laying next to the pod of a body-snatcher?

*Goddamn, Thantia! Sym! How could you not tell me this before?*

*There is no reason for alarm, Conceptor. If the Ovizatataron is but a manifestation of your own consciousness, everything is as it should be. If it is something other, something foreign to your origin, still it would be hard pressed to change your life in any meaningful way; the superverse itself might delete it for the action.*

*But that still doesn't explain why you didn't tell me about this alien thing!*

*Actually, we did: or rather, you had access to all that Symantici knew of our suspicions. I merely attenuated your potential concerns regarding the matter, until now,* Thantia told me.

*What does that mean?*

*Thantia has been preventing you from focusing on the matter of the Ovizatataron, Jerry. To prevent you unnecessarily fretting over the matter, while we gathered more data, and performed various analyses.* Sym piped in.

*So you were manipulating me? My mind? Keeping me from fully understanding that an alien was nesting in my head? Why?*

*Our reasons were simple: there was nothing to be gained from your excess consciousness of the entity's presence-- only lost.* Thantia replied.

*Like what?*

*Your time with Symantici, primarily. Unnecessary concerns over Ovizatataron would have detracted from that.*

Thantia was right of course; Sym had been all I could handle, without worrying about Ovizatataron being an alien, too.

And I wouldn't have traded my time with Sym for anything. Thantia continued.

*But what is more important is the alien's purpose-- if it is an alien. Its reason for coming here, to this time and place. We are constrained by circumstance from pursuing certain measures regarding the Ovizatataron, as we cannot know precisely what it is, or its relevancy to this event-line. But we must plumb the depths of its plans to the extent we are able. Does its presence indicate a threat to us? Or hold the promise of a new, intriguing era in our history? I propose a triumvirate; the three of us in direct link, to confront the entity.*

*But Thantia, is that safe? You two have told me before that linking with you might kill me. And even with Sym, I was almost popped like a balloon!*

*In a duo only link between us, you would not survive intact. But your rapport with Symantici can restrict the scope of interface between you and I.*

I turned to Sym. *Really? I won't turn into a french fry?*

It took Sym and Thantia a detectable moment to find the meaning of my remark among the Store: I didn't get a laugh. But Sym's half frown, half smile was close enough.

My humor didn't work well on twentieth century females either.

So the two of them talked me into it. It didn't turn out like any of us expected.

First off, Ovizatataron wouldn't come out and play. We tried everything we could think of to lure him out, but to no avail. Thantia was very disappointed.

Far too quickly, events beyond the control of even Thantia forced us all to turn our attention towards preparations for the Pagnew-- and me-- exiting the Sol Realtime, pronto. Otherwise the Pagnew might get impounded, and the crew and I detained, indefinitely. Maybe even endangering the event-line, as the demands of stream physics grappled with the pressures of this Realtime's politics and laws.

I almost certainly would be barred from direct linking with Sym again.

So all of a sudden-- just like that-- my time with Sym shrank drastically, while my time with Ling and the Pagnew swelled.

The Pagnew had to be repaired, and our defenses beefed up substantially. We none of us wanted to find ourselves unprepared for hostilities again. So we spent many hours detailing modification plans.

Sym was helping us too. With me as her liaison with the crew. It wasn't as good as direct link, but I still appreciated it tremendously. And in lieu of the link-- and in view of Sym's newly acquired depths of human similarities-- Sym and I did manage to enjoy quite a bit of old fashioned human-style intimacy during this stage. Shoot, we pretty much had to, in an effort to wean me off direct link. Even with all the medical knowledge and technologies of both the Pagnew and the Sol, I suffered pretty bad withdrawal symptoms along the way. Bad enough that the crew noticed. But they were suffering too, as apparently we'd all found some rather addictive things to do in this Realtime.

Sym managed to confirm that the individual matching Arbitur's specs for the focal agent was still with the Sol fleet we'd tangled with before. But the male Sol continued to refuse to shift the agent to our location.

And naturally we weren't too eager to go meet them on their turf either. But then a new option presented itself.

From what Arbitur had gathered about the nest (what everyone was now calling the renegade tech we'd fought before), Sym had gotten an idea (Sym had learned much from Arbitur, of many things, during her direct link with him).

Sym regarded my hard data from the ancient past as a deep look into the male psyche, which might work well to keep the male Sol occupied now. Sym also consulted for hours on end with other female Sol, the colonists, and Arbitur. Finally, a strategy was worked out.

She wanted to make an deal with the nest. She proposed carefully limited exchanges of information and materials for certain services on the part of the nest.

What services? Sym proposed making containment of the nest a permanent occupation of the local male Sol-- but the legally available territory for the nest would be expanded to give them plenty of room and resources to grow. And certain restrictions of weaponry on both sides would keep major injuries or damage to a minimum.

Sym also cut secret deals with both sides to sweeten the pot. For example, Sym would provide the nestlings with a rudimentary version of the Sol shift-away mechanism, so that not only could the nestlings suffer less harm from the Sol in their skirmishes, but the Sol themselves would still think they were destroying the nestlings, when they often weren't.

So Sym effectively set up a sort of Sol version of war games from the twentieth century. Besides getting the benefit of being made 'official' border guards, the male Sol got some secret perks too.

All sides appeared satisfied with the arrangements, after a few tweaks here and there. Now we would soon meet the focal agent among the male Sol (one of the conditions of the deal).

The following few days were somewhat better than I expected, despite my on-going link withdrawal symptoms, and the imminent departure from this Realtime and my beautiful Sol (she couldn't or wouldn't come with me-- agh!).

The Pagnew was better than new. And ready to shift any which way again, with its main drive fully re-assembled.

All we really needed now was a brief meeting with the focal agent to determine what happened next.

Symantici had shifted away to prepare for the imminent arrival of the focal agent and his entourage. This left me alone with Thantia.

*Thantia, I'll never see Symantici again, after I leave with the Pagnew; will I?*

*In an infinite number of realities, that is true. Yet, in another infinity of same, it is not.*

*That's no answer, Thantia.*

*Do not be disappointed with the randomness of the superverse Jerry. After all, it has brought you and Symantici together once already, hasn't it?*

*Well, yeah. But the flip side of that is it probably never will again. It's like winning a sweepstakes, isn't it?*

*Chance is a physical law of many Realtimes Jerry, much the same as those of gravity and entropy. This fact does not make it impossible to exploit chance-- it only means you must frame your efforts in such a way as to make chance work for rather than against you. Do not bemoan your future chances of reuniting with Symantici, or of achieving anything else you might desire. At this point you already possess a vast advantage over others.*

*And what's that?*

*The fact that you are here, now. Upon return to origin, you will eventually realize your good fortune.*

*Hmmm. I wish I could. But all my memories will be wiped, remember?*

*Yes. Your recall of these events will be taken from you, prior to return.*

*So I guess I'll someday get a 'good feeling' about all this, even though I can't remember it, right? No offense Thantia, but that's bullshit.*

*It's true this experience will have negligible impact upon you, until you regain a certain sense of its existence.*

*Yeah. And that'll-- wait a minute. Are you saying I'll get my memory back?*

*I have stated only facts regarding the matter, Jerry. You should remain conservative as to the inferences you draw from them.*

*Hmmm. I wish I was smarter than I am, Thantia. If I was, I have a feeling I'd get a lot more out of our little conversation.*

*Perhaps. But there is also the possibility you unnecessarily underestimate your capacities.*

*Ha, ha. You old smooth talker! You've went out of your way to make me feel good since the first time we met! How come?*

*I see in you the humn child which no longer exists in our culture, Jerry. Our unrelenting drive for progress, and insecurities fed by things such as the Peer Proof have stripped us of much, including our youth. The child races suffer the same malady. This has robbed us of much of our former allied brilliance--*

*What? Are you kidding? Look at you! I'd say you're doing pretty damn good!*

*No: we are in decay. Our society in collapse. Our pace of innovation has reached a plateau. Have you not noticed everything around you represents little more than a wider application or incremental improvements of technologies available at the Pagnew's origin?*

*No! So maybe you feel like you're in a slump, Thantia. But everybody goes through ups and downs. Things will perk up again.*

*Recall there is a 340 year difference between this Realtime and the Pagnew's origin, Jerry. Do you not see the crawl of progress during the interim?*

*Well...what do you expect? I mean, after immortality and shifting, and super genius brain power and all, what else is there to invent, or do?*

*That is the key: 'what else is there to invent?' 'What do we expect?' We expect little, Jerry. We imagine little. We are most of us enthralled by our entertainment systems, or to ancient and pointless ritualistic behaviors. Witness the male Sol: but for occasional assembly adventures, they sulk apart from all other legacy organics-- even the females of their own kind. They prefer instead arcane ceremonies, purposeless competitions, and sophisticated pleasuring devices which provide entertainment without commensurate achievement or challenge. They live lives of hedonism, not accomplishment.

*The inorganics are steadily usurping our economy and our minds with their products. As our treaties make many aspects of inorganic intelligence subject to exclusive inorganic licensing, our own service industries languish as the inorganics invade our markets. And the invasion consists primarily of pleasuring devices; superb pleasuring devices. Of sufficient quality to lure even the most dedicated of us from more important pursuits. In this way the inorganics are stripping us of our vitality. Entities such as myself have projected dire consequences as a result.*

*Yeah, I have to admit that sounds bad. But isn't there anything you can do?*

*Originally, during the Peer Proof, our wide dispersal across this Realtime was our strength. The inorganics failed to achieve critical mass in their hegemony, and we eventually managed to return in sufficient force to achieve parity-- perhaps a shade more than parity.

*The treaty forced the greater burden of segregation upon the inorganics: they were forced to leave established colonies and population centers to settle new ones. But we paid a high price ourselves in the bargain: we gave up the right to manufacture and use at our discretion machines of the highest levels of intelligence. We now must lease such mechanisms from the inorganics. This provision has essentially paid for the enormous costs of their resettlement program. And inflicted enormous hardship upon us.

*What's worse, new projections show this scheme is insufficient to protect our interests; the inorganics will yet achieve dominance over us, unless major action is taken.*

*And what action is that?*

*One of three alternatives: successful re-negotiation of the treaty, another war, or escape.*

*Escape? You mean just take all your shit and move to another corner of the universe? Wouldn't that be kind of drastic?*

*No. Any travel occurring wholly within this Realtime would be futile. It may be the destiny of the inorganics to rule this universe. We made the mistake millennia ago of incorporating uncurbed evolutionary type mechanisms into their design. These now drive them towards conflict with and domination of all organics and organic legacies.

*As you can see, just for our own self-protection, many of us have been forced to become completely inorganic ourselves. We are no longer biological organisms; only our neural networks retain a vague familial resemblance to our predecessors.*

*Yeah. That's right. So why don't the inorganics leave you alone? You're inorganic too!*

*Old prejudices and mind sets remain in place. Immortality on both sides provides no turnover in generations to diminish this influence.

*The evolutionary drive is strong in both. One of us must ultimately prove the better of the other. It is the next logical step beyond the Peer Proof: the Superior Proof.

*Unfortunately, when we spawned the inorganics, we gave them an evolutionary drive uncompromised by a pleasure seeking apparatus which could be easily uncoupled from survival needs, as well as equipped them with a more robust long term perspective than we ourselves possess.

*So while the inorganics share our greatest strength, they are free of our greatest weaknesses.*

*Hmph! The universe is plenty big enough for you both! Isn't it? Why fight?*

*You do not understand. We are both sufficiently advanced so that nature provides little limitation on our ambitions. Expansion into those parts of the universe empty of sentience is easy: too easy. The only challenge is to test ourselves against our nearest competition; to overcome them.

*For both sides this competition is a two level affair: on one level it is parent versus child; the child eager to show it is completely free and independent of the parent; the parent intent on not allowing the child to become the master of the game.

*On another level is the evolutionary competition. The male Sol of their own volition regularly attempt small aggressions against the inorganics. Only a few of the highest government officials know the alarming attrition rate which has ensued among the male Sol. Did you not notice the small number of Sol vessels in assembly against the nestlings?*

*Well, yeah. But the men didn't act like they knew the reason was lots of casualties. They thought the small number was due to fear, or a lot of data Sols who'd changed their waking preferences.*

*The truth is the number of male Sol is dwindling. They persist in suicide attacks against the inorganics. Yet, as you have seen, they are incompetent against inorganics of far less stature than our mature opposition.*

*But if you have a treaty with the inorganics, don't they get upset with these attacks?*

*No. To the contrary. The inorganics have never lodged a single complaint regarding the attacks. They appear to enjoy them as a form of diversion. As a microcosm of the eventual climax of the larger struggle.*

*Whoa. That sounds bad. Well...so, if this universe isn't safe, you're thinking of shipping out to another one?*

*Yes. It would be tantamount to an admission of defeat to the inorganics. But we would retain our freedom and self-determination. Too, the treaty would become void, and we could enrich ourselves with high level inorganic services once again; something we have learned we cannot easily live without. Perhaps such a luxury would re-invigorate our creative impulses, just as a diminished labor requirement originally led to inventiveness within the mother race itself.*

*But-- then all the trouble would just start over again!*

*No. We have learned from our mistakes. Hundreds of years ago we programmed evolutionary ambitions into our inorganics as a short cut to high level intelligence in our servants. Now we are capable of creating suitable mechanisms without the need of such drives. But the treaty forbids it! Exodus would re-empower us in this regard.*

*Well, it sounds like it might work. So how come you haven't done it yet?*

*We continue to debate our course among the highest circles. Evolutionary pressures within our own ranks bring calls for war rather than the retreat that exodus is considered by many. Some hold out hope of renegotiation of the treaty, though there has been no sign of willingness to reopen discussions on the other side. Exodus is not entirely feasible at the moment. There are few inter-dimensional shifters in existence at present. I am one of only three Sol prototypes in the field. One element restricting the manufacture of other shifters is we have not solved the problem of randomness in inter-dimensional travel. Therefore the jump would be by necessity one-time, and one-way. With all available shifters in synchro. Else we would be spread terribly thin across many Realtimes, easy prey for unexpected dangers; each party short of the critical mass required to quickly rebuild the nation which now exists. For all these reasons, we see little purpose in constructing a complete fleet at this time.

*Then there is the matter of secrecy. Once construction on such a large project begins, we have little hope of hiding the fact from the inorganics. The news could spark an immediate attack, for which we would be inadequately prepared.*

*Then-- you guys need the Pagnew, don't you?*

*Yes, there are several aspects of the Pagnew which could make it valuable to our aims. But it is beyond our grasp. For reasons more important than Exodus.*

*I feel bad about leaving all of you, Thantia. Maybe I should stay? It seemed like I was able to help against the renegade tech. Maybe I could help hold off the inorganics for a while, if necessary--*

*No. At this time you must proceed your own way. Do you not realize Jerry the Signposts document is crucial to this event-line? Without shifting, we would be doomed: already under the heel of the inorganics; perhaps destroyed altogether. That work is too valuable-- your original destiny too important-- for you to loiter here.*

*But Thantia-- I hate to tell you this-- but I'm not who you think I am. I mean, I'm G.W. Staute all right, but not the primo G.W. Staute. I don't know about your time, but in mine there were a lot of us that had the same name. There might have been thousands of G.W. Stautes in America when the Pagnew came by and scooped me up; so they got the wrong guy.*

*Perhaps; perhaps not. We cannot afford the risk of you staying, Jerry. Regardless of your identity. It is all probabilities, you see. The period between this time and yours has supported an immensely rich branching in event development. We know the impact you would have as the Signposts writer. But we don't know the impact a different Staute might have had. It could possibly be still more important. Even the smallest of impacts upon the twentieth century-- say, as nothing more than a fellow who read a storybook to a distantly related child one day-- could exert tremendous influence on present day conditions. For that child, on the strength of inspiration from that single reading, might have grown into an influential person in their own right, affecting millions of people of their own generation, and billions thereafter.*

*Yeah, I guess that's true. But it'd sure feel anti-climactic to think your only beneficial impact on things might be the chance reading of a book to some kid.*

*None of us may know what aspect of our lives will have the greatest impact on others, Jerry-- if any. You see? We must be rid of you in this Realtime, Jerry. Regardless of your relationship to the Signposts.*

*Okay, okay, Thantia. I get the picture.*

I was suddenly feeling very small, very inadequate. The human race was about to be pushed out of their own universe-- and I could help most by getting the hell out myself! The real genius Staute might end up saving their asses, if he were here. But hell, they didn't even want me around to make popcorn for the show! And I so wanted to stay; I wanted to stay with Symantici. I realized the black despair descending upon me once again was really about her. And the fact we hadn't been in link for quite a while now...I had to make sure we had another link before I left. If I left...

Wild thoughts ran through my mind; thoughts of sabotaging the Pagnew, somehow. Or shifting off it just as it left the Sol Realtime. So I could stay.

Goddamn it! I wasn't the Signposts Staute! It didn't matter if I never returned to Earth! I was nobody there! They needed a primitive human here! I'd proved it against the renegade tech. Hell, if they gave me a chance I'd show them against the real inorganics, too!

But they wouldn't give me the chance.

I began to openly cry. Though I was well aware by now that these recurring bouts of deep depression stemmed from my addiction to the link, I just couldn't help myself. My future looked awful. Awful without Sym. And they wouldn't even give me a chance to stay. A chance to prove I could pull my own weight here. It wasn't fair!

Thantia had grown accustomed to my extreme psychological swings. Most of the adverse impacts of direct link we'd managed to deal with successfully. But the bouts of depression defied even Sol technology. Something about my psychological constitution seemed to demand intense bouts of despair to balance out the heights of joy experienced in link. Symantici had found something in the Store which suggested my brain had to flush out some endorphins occasionally with their depressive counterparts, or else face damage to the enzyme receptors inside it. It was some sort of self regulation mechanism. But whatever it was, in my opinion it didn't do a very good job!

But it turned out Thantia had a different type of treatment still in reserve: shock treatment.

*Conceptor, there is much more to this matter I would tell you, if I could.*

*So why don't you?* I asked, eager for anything to distract me from my current malaise.

*Certain precautions are necessary first.*

*Precautions? What precautions?*

*Containment vessels: in your psyche. To prevent the knowledge or any hint of same from spreading beyond your specific consciousness.*

*You mean to keep it from Symantici, don't you?*

*Affirmative. As well as others.*

*But you can't dam stuff up from a direct link, can you?*

*Yes. A Sol of my stature may accomplish the task.*

*But what about Ovizatataron? Can you keep it from him too?*

*No. But the entity may already be cognizant of some of the information.*

Thantia was being very cryptic here.

*So you're basically saying you'll tell me something really juicy, just so long as you can fix it so I can't spill the beans to anyone else. Right?*

*Correct.*

*If I say okay, there's no way any of this could hurt Symantici or Ling or anyone else on the Pagnew, is there?*

This time Thantia hesitated for a scarily long time-- considering how fast I knew she could think.

*I cannot truthfully offer you such an open-ended assurance, Conceptor.*

*Well then, I'd rather not know.*

Thantia was silent for a second. Maybe more for dramatic effect than anything else.

*It may be that there's as much chance you could eventually help Symantici et al with the information, as the alternative of it doing them harm. But should you refuse the knowledge now, no opportunity for exploiting it to their benefit will exist: only the related negative possibilities will remain.*

Holy crap! *You're saying they might get hurt because of this stuff, regardless of whether I accept the knowledge or not?*

*Yes.*

*But if I take it, I might be able to help them when the time comes?*

*If the time comes, yes.*

*But no matter how hard I try or want to, I'll never be able to tell them what you tell me now?*

*Correct. You will also be unable to consciously divulge the information to them in any indirect fashion whatsoever.*

*Thantia, I don't see how I could ever help them with the information under those constraints! And yet you say I could!*

*There may be opportunities.*

*Like what?*

*That you will have to learn on your own. Do you wish to receive the information under the conditions I have given you?*

*Yes. I guess so,* I answered glumly. I didn't really want it. But if I needed it later to somehow help the others, I better get it. I was sure I wouldn't like it. Just from Thantia's preconditions alone.

It sure didn't take Thantia long to create a lock box in my noggin; it seemed like she began her info dump immediately.

I was surprised to learn the Pagnew was merely the latest of lots of Realtime anomalies occurring in and around Sol space, for decades now. So many in fact, that in the upper echelons of Sol intellect and governance Thantia frequented, it was considered a mounting crisis of potentially cataclysmic proportions: matching or surpassing the significance of the standoff with the inorganics she'd told me about earlier.

The anomalies included a wide diversity of vessels and crews. In some cases, an anomaly might only consist of a single out-of-place individual or artifact being discovered.

The vast majority of the anomalies, both historical and present-day, remained unknown to the general public, though occasionally one like the Pagnew managed to leak through all the filtering and spin efforts of the authorities. So far that minority had been successfully dealt with in other ways. Including quiet resettlements and new identities for crews in remote and/or wilder regions of space, when those crews could not return to whence they came. Others were placed in indefinite secret stasis. And those few who refused all the options they were given by the authorities? Destroyed! Or at least chased out of known space.

I was shocked. But there was more.

Some of the anomalous vessels were obviously shift clones: duplicate vessels and crews, created from original vessel shifts gone awry.

And a few such vessels had been alternate Pagnews(!)

This stunned me. But there was no pause in the knowledge flow from Thantia.

Although the other Pagnews usually possessed similar crews to our own-- as well as abductees from accidental incursions into the past-- my own arrival stood out as somewhat unique in many ways.

Among the totality of anomalous vessels and people there were often duplicates. But not of me. And not of Ovizatataron.

Plus, there was my possible connection to the discovery of shifting technology itself. And other factors. Like my own abduction taking place at the earliest known point in the event line, compared to all other cases.

To Thantia and her peers, me and my Pagnew stood out from all the others, and all the rest of the anomalous fleet of lost ships and people as well.

Indeed, Thantia suspected that me and my Pagnew trip may have been responsible for opening the flood gates though which all the other anomalies now poured.

And perhaps Ovizatataron was the key. Maybe if it was made aware of the scope of events now unfolding, it could stop them. Or perhaps my successful return to origin might do it.

There were indications similar anomalies were taking place in inorganic space; but details were scarce.

The last thing in Thantia's info dump was a chilling threat: cold, hard certainty of how Thantia could and would definitely return Symantici to the being she was prior to ever meeting me, if by some miracle (or accident) I managed to pass on any of this information to her, despite Thantia's safeguards. The scariest part was Sym would be reverted even if she only guessed the truth herself, and there was any possibility at all that I'd had anything to do with it.

I absolutely hated Thantia for that. But also understood why she thought it necessary, based on various details of the dump.

Just as I'd earlier suspected, I'd rather not have known this crap. But it was too late now. With this new information in my possession, it would be appallingly easy for me to destroy my beloved goddess; I might do it wholly accidentally!

This was by far the best reason of all for me to leave this Realtime as soon as possible. And Thantia knew it. Damn her circuits.

Thantia had provided lots of seemingly unnecessary details in her dump to my mind. Like vessel names, crew rosters, abductee identities, and summaries of their respective experiences up to and through their meetings with the Sol authorities themselves (or their warships).

Under other circumstances I would likely have found it all fascinating; but not now.

Though I was sure whatever Thantia had done to lock up the info in my head would probably do a good job of it, still I tried to add on my own safety measures; mostly by trying to forget it. For I had no choice but to live every moment like I never knew it. The best way I could manage that was to block it out, same as I would block out any idea of my Symantici being completely destroyed, so that her previous and utterly different incarnation could return.

I couldn't bear for Symantici to forget me; for then all my hopes for ever seeing her again someday would be dashed to nothing.

Only after I'd left Sym's Realtime could I consider the secrets Thantia had revealed to me. For then Sym would be safe. Hopefully, anyway.

So long as I didn't accidentally leave behind the tiniest clue to my new knowledge.

Damn Thantia! Damn her!

Arbitur, Ling, and I explained our weird little soup kitchen experiment to Sym and Thantia. Then we all did our best to plan for every possible contingency which might come about when the soup kitchen was brought into close proximity to the focal agent. Talk about something being hard to plan for-- this was it! For if we didn't shift immediately as indicated by the kitchen, we might miss our chance forever. Heck, technically we might have already missed it. But we assumed we hadn't.

We would not be allowed to abduct the focal agent Sol. And even if we somehow did manage it, our Sol victim could burn us to a crisp immediately thereafter, and find his way alone in whatever new Realtime we'd shifted to. So the focal agent definitely had to be off the Pagnew when we shifted. Stuff like that made this a hairy venture indeed.

So Thantia devised a method by which we could have our cake and eat it too. It was complicated as hell: so complicated I couldn't understand it personally. But somehow Thantia was able to enclose the entire Pagnew inside her own shifting power shell, in a way which would allow the Pagnew to shift away as needed without dragging Sol bystanders along for the ride-- but still allow the close proximity we required of the focal agent Sol for the soup kitchen inside the Pagnew to do its stuff.

Got that? Neither do I. Told you I didn't understand it. But Thantia assured us it'd work. Despite none of us-- including Thantia-- really knowing what the hell would happen when we brought focal agent and soup kitchen together.

Keep in mind this shift would be fundamentally different from the shift which brought us into the Sol Realtime. For in that previous shift, the soup kitchen was operating solely off samples of brain tissue cloned from organic crew aboard the Pagnew. Since then the soup kitchen had given strong indications that a particular Sol in this Realtime might get it excited enough to initiate the next shift. A Sol, it turned out, who possessed more organic elements than most of us expected, due to his extreme age and unusual composition. Basically he was a low biological content cyborg, rather than pure inorganic mimicking some organic neural patterns like Sym's generation.

So none of us knew what to expect here. Even Thantia (though she seemed thrilled by the uncertainties involved).

When we finally met Thlios (the focal agent), I was taken aback. Although he was even more human-looking than Symantici's current form, he looked old. Very old. He wasn't a prune, or anything like that. But he did have his share of wrinkles. And a sort of slightly unhealthy looking pallor about him. There was a tinge of greenish blue about the sides of his head, just in front of his ears. But his movements belied his aged look. His grace and economy of action showed the vast experience he possessed with his body, and the youthful energy he still retained.

Thlios at first seemed mildly irritated at the meeting. But as the introductions progressed, his expression changed. Almost dramatically.

Thlios had initially expressed extreme disinterest in us. But for some reason that changed after he saw Riki and I, and heard our names. Then his demeanor changed completely.

*What were those names again? You,* He pointed at me, *and you,* he pointed at Riki. Everyone there seemed as surprised as I was that we two were suddenly picked out from the crowd by the old Sol.

Sym shot a quick, tight thought at me over the net. She urged me to humor Thlios, as he was regarded as eccentric, yet fairly distinguished by the Sol and colony communities alike. Well, for a male Sol anyway.

Ling helped by repeating our introductions. Thlios' eyes narrowed in our direction.

*I know you two. Where have we met before?*

I found myself suddenly struggling to hold back a laugh; the old guy was obviously senile. Who would have guessed that the Sol would still suffer from senility?

Luckily, of all the Sol, only Sym was tuned in at present to my node's passive channel. So Thlios couldn't know of my thoughts.

*You are wrong, young one. Because of my long life, I know of the concept you hold within your head. You are wrong. I am far from 'senile'.*

Oh shit! *Uh-- I'm sorry, Thlios. I promise you I meant no harm. In my own time, the older folks still have such problems--*

*Yes, yes. Never mind that. But you should know I am an exper. I was of the first Sol generation-- a Sol before the name itself was taken for our kind. So my foundation abilities are, shall we say, not the same as those you have previously encountered.* He turned to smile at Sym and the other Sol.

*Though this is a liability in some ways, it is an asset in others. One of those assets is a special sight. Almost an organic level telepathy, as it would have been called in centuries past. It works especially well with more primitive forms such as yourself. So your guards upon your artificial node mean little to me.*

*Let me say again that I'm sorry--* I began.

Thlios waved his hand impatiently.

*Enough. I am not insulted by the undisciplined thoughts of a child. How old are you?* Thlios accompanied the query with a knowing look; like he already knew the answer to his question.

*I'm twenty years old--*

*Old Earth reckoning, I take it?*

*Uh, yes, I guess so--*

*Not even a child, then: an infant. I see now the source of Jerrera's initial amusement.*

Thlios was getting my ire up.

*Yeah, Jerrera was so amused he laughed himself all the way into limbo,* I said, without thinking. I guess my frustration and anger with Thantia over the info dump-- and the threat it posed to Sym-- was grating on my nerves.

Thlios' expression turned hard.

*That is not amusing. But adults are obligated to suffer children-- usually.* Thlios stared straight into my eyes. And I swallowed hard, even as an involuntary shiver ran through me. It was terrible to have to hold your tongue because the guy you were talking to could slurp the skin from your bones in the blink of an eye. And store you as data for a thousand years, 'til he felt like playing with you again.

Sym interrupted. *Thlios, as I explained to you earlier, the crew of the Pagnew have need of something from you, in order to affect their return to origin. And you're aware of the importance of closing all event-line shift loops?*

Thlios hesitated a moment before answering. And looked at me like a tiger considering his next meal. It made me even more nervous, though I tried not to show it.

*Yes. Let us close the circuit, and be done with it. But I would know where I have met these two before. If they are truly who they claim, why do their faces and names tug so strongly at my thoughts?*

*Can you not remember?* Sym asked, puzzled. For Sol memory stores were basically vast data banks, not subject to the vagaries of biological aging.

*No. It has evidently been some time ago; the relevant data reorganized more than once in my stores, with no convenient index matching to the present parameters. Where else have these children ventured in their outlaw shifter?*

Ling spoke up. *To many non-eventful Realtimes sir, for the most part. As Symantici related to you earlier, our ship was lost for roughly nine ship years, when we happened upon Earth's twentieth century, and took on Mr. Staute. From there we next came here. As Mr. Staute had never met Riki before this journey, it would appear unlikely you could have met the two of them before, sir.*

Thlios' hands rose to grasp the wide lapels of his impressive overcoat/cape combination; he made a slight adjustment to them.

*Still, there is something disturbing here,* he looked at Sym, his brow furrowed in concentration.

*Symantici, would you join me for a moment in my search? My memory stores are too large, and difficult to rapidly access for this instance...*

Sym looked surprised by Thlios' request, but eager to help. Just as she turned her attention to doing so, I got a brief flash of explanation from her over the net. A major part of Thlios' renowned eccentricity was his abhorrence of direct link and the other Sol network services which most took for granted as necessities. Thlios was the equivalent to a hermit among the Sol. For him to now request such a link with Sym was fairly unheard of.

Sym flashed at me that she suspected Thlios was after what she'd learned from her direct link with me, about me, as an aid to his recall.

But as Thlios was a highly regarded elder Sol and Exper, with many accomplishments of his own, Sym could not resist climbing into his head with him.

I was struck with an immense wave of jealousy; for in direct link, I knew Thlios and Sym could go into Fance and party like mad for days. And when they returned, only a few seconds would have passed for the rest of us. Worst of all, I dared not enter direct link again with Sym myself, no matter how skilled I figured Thantia to be with her mental lock-works. Or how badly I longed for it.

But they weren't in direct link long at all; they both came out of it abruptly, almost the same instant they went in. With a jolt obviously felt by both.

*What were you doing?* Thlios demanded of Sym.

*What were you doing?* Sym shot back. But she appeared confused; and a little bit scared.

*I was searching for where I'd seen...* Thlios began, with a tinge of rage in his voice. But it trailed off in less than a second, to helpless confusion.

*Thlios! I see now! We found it! It was at the Seventh Palace!* Symantici beamed over the net.

Thlios looked dumbfounded. And suddenly apprehensive. But only for an instant. The old goat was fast on his feet at regaining lost composure.

*Yes, perhaps it was. The-- resemblance-- is remarkable, is it not?* Thlios looked to Sym for agreement. He seemed nervous.

Sym looked like she was about to project something to the rest of us, and then stopped short, reconsidering the act. For just a scant instant, a look of amazement crossed her face. But immediately it was gone, and her expression completely blank. Her next words seemed peculiarly measured.

*Yes. The resemblance is uncanny.*

I thought Sym might be lying, from her strange manner. But there wasn't any way to be sure. What was there to lie about, anyway?

*So you haven't met us before, after all?* I ventured to Thlios. Sym looked like she wanted me to say something along those lines.

*No, I haven't. But it was an easy mistake, as I once had friends whom you resemble. That was all long ago,* Thlios smiled at me warmly, as if he liked me all of a sudden. Perhaps his personality mingling with Sym's in direct link had caused something good to rub off on him.

Before I could respond, Sym interjected.

*Thlios has provided us the information required by the Pagnew, Jerry. He...* Sym gave a strange look towards Thlios *...gave it to me just now. This-- we were confused at first, by...his erroneous reference to his past friends. But it took only a moment for us to realize our mistake.*

Sym was belaboring the point for some reason. Just what had happened there, anyway?

*We were all young once, Mr. Staute,* Thlios was projecting to me. *Perhaps our respective youths are all we have in common now. For fate has made our maturity a bewildering maze of divergencies.*

*Uh, yeah. I suppose so.* I wasn't sure what he was talking about, then. But I think I've figured it out, since.

*We're all young once,* I seconded the motion.

*Is it not a pity that we so often forget our childhood friends?* Thlios looked at me like he expected the statement to mean something to me. I mean, something in particular, beyond its general idea. But his purpose was lost on me.

*Yeah, it's a shame,* was all I could say.

Thlios smiled at me. It was a sincere smile, but with a strain of inexplicable sadness to it. I chalked it up to the memories of an old man. Sol immortality had mostly defeated death, but it hadn't overcome the overdose of memories that the longer life brought with it.

Sym had the data all right, according to Arbitur. He gulped it down greedily over the net. Told us that the data would allow him to trigger the shift at a time and place of his discretion. But to be on the safe side, it'd be best to do so outside Thantia's contingency bubble. The Pagnew was re-located immediately after Thlios and the others disembarked.

Somehow Thantia and Sym managed to keep me out of the loop on some imminent gate-crashing due to occur at any moment on our party. This was one reason Arbitur and Thantia abruptly dumped the Pagnew via Realtime shift far, far away from where we'd spent the majority of our time here.

It turned out that Thantia's and Sym's attempts to postpone the final Sol community reckoning regarding the fate of the Pagnew had finally collapsed. An uproar had erupted in Fance. A large proportion of the population demanded seizure of the ship. And of me. Thantia and Symantici were both forced into Fance to defend us. But before exiting Realtime, they'd urged Arbitur to shift inter-dimensionally as soon as possible.

With the debates being of a virtual nature, we literally didn't have a nano-second to waste.

So Sym and I ended up not getting another chance at link after all. Thankfully. Regretfully. Agh!

Sym and Thantia had warned Ling and Arbitur that I might try to stay. So my personal shifting privileges were suspended even within the ship, until we were safely out of this Realtime.

Sym and Thantia had put the fear of God into the crew; given them dire warnings of worst case scenarios if the Pagnew were impounded, and the crew imprisoned. They had to: because the crew hated to leave almost as badly as I did.

If even a single one of them had found someone like Symantici for themselves, I'm sure the Pagnew would never have left the Sol Realtime.

Part of me now prayed to God that our drive would go completely out and strand us here. Maybe when Arbitur closed the switch a loud 'clank' would be audible from the Pagnew's innards, and close on its heels Ling would come give me the bad-but-really-great news. I knew it was a tiny thing to clutch to, considering the technology. But hope often consists of such minute things.

And if we got truly stuck, maybe Thantia could pull that awful secret stuff back out of me, and remove Symantici from the terrible potential penalty box she wasn't even aware existed.

It was awful, sitting trapped in my room aboard the Pagnew again. I had my 3-D imaging wall tuned to a view of Thantia's immense physical shell.

The Pagnew was to leave Realtime any moment now. Since my 3-D was displaying an image of Realtime, I'd know it the instant we left.

My depression had lifted for a bit during the meeting with Thlios. But now it was back with a vengeance.

Arbitur had me under even closer surveillance than usual, and the intelligent grav field in my room was programmed to prohibit any physical action on my part which might cause me harm.

It was a most annoying situation.

Ling had tried to comfort me on my return to the ship, but in my dark mood I'd rebuffed her. I didn't want Ling; I wanted Symantici.

My 3-D unexpectedly switched off, just like that; leaving me staring at a blank wall. It looked like the crew might have rushed repairs a tad too much.

"Hey!" I yelled aloud, at no one in particular. Then turned inward to my now-downgraded-to-25th-century-technology-again node. Sym of course had put everything back the way it was before she met me, including my second skin and shush net node. The little tweaks she'd done to my brain had stayed though, it being too risky to fool with those again.

I reactivated the 3-D screen. 'Preferences?' queried the imaging system.

"Same view as last!" I yelled at it angrily, accompanying the mental command with its verbal equivalent. Yelling out loud felt better than just yelling through the node alone.

Of course, nothing happened. I worked myself up into a frenzy thinking that Ling had stripped me of 3-D privileges too, before I remembered the emotional circuit breakers on the outdated net aboard the Pagnew.

I sat and seethed for at least a minute or two, muttering to myself. Finally, I calmed myself sufficiently to access the 3-D again.

Thantia rematerialized on my screen. Even as a low key alert lit up in my mental node console. I focused on it. 'Exception...' it said.

I accessed it for more of an explanation.

*Cannot comply in full with last command. Reason: Image source inaccessible due to shift. Alternative action taken: Initiation of continuous loop of previous imagery captured. End of Exception.*

This was how I discovered I'd lost Symantici forever.

The goddamn drive had worked.

What happened next? A Fantasy of Chaos

Copyright © 2004-2011 by J.R. Mooneyham. All rights reserved.