UnConsequences

The message had gone out overnight to senior clansmen to gather at the Lair at dawn. To Brovver it all seemed a bit melodramatic. He went to see his son in the medical room and was astonished to see him up and about with his mother. His limbs were straight and he seemed to be free of pain for the first time since the day he was born. His mother was watching him cavort around the room with tears in her eyes. Coley spotted Brovver.

“Dad! Dad!” he squealed, “Look at me.” He jumped into the air and clapped his hands. The joy in his face was a soothing benison to the troubled Brovver and his wife. Brovver laughed and hugged his partner then his son; he had tears in his eyes. He couldn’t quite believe his good fortune.

Outside, the gathering clansmen were roaming around aimlessly waiting. The two groups weren’t exactly mingling; their mutual suspicion keeping them apart. A few Dragons could be seen warily watching the goings on from a distance. The temperature hadn’t had a chance to rise but the sun was strong and the pollution levels high so most were masked and covered. Brovver and Grimond exited the Lair together, masked and armoured they made an imposing sight.

The twenty or so senior clansmen gathered around the two leaders. Brovver and Grimond tried to explain what had happened, what the Lair was capable of and some proposals for the future. The clans weren’t exactly democracies but leaders don’t survive without the consent of those they lead. It was clear from the body language that some would take more convincing than others. Unused to the concept of cooperation the clansmen argued over old animosities, bickering like children over perceived slights and betrayals; some small, some huge, some ancient and some new. The meeting was descending into chaos.

Brovver fired off a few rounds into the air in an effort to regain control of the situation. “Enough!” he yelled his voice amplified by the armour to almost painful levels. The clansmen fell into a grumbling silence. Rail guns whined and powered up the clansmen backed off each other readying their weaponry.

“Aw for fuck sake!” Grimond placed himself between the two groups, Brovver joined him, they stood back to back Grimond facing his own men and Brovver his.

“This’ll get us nowhere - Power down! All of you!”

This was the decision point; it could all fall apart here and now, a stray bullet, the wrong word and a war would ensue. Would the clansmen take the order seriously, would they be inclined to obey or would their long held antagonism overwhelm the leader’s authority? Brovver and Grimond were asking their clansmen to take a leap of faith; asking them for the first time in most of their lives to think past the next meal, the next skirmish, the next drunken fuck. Reason had little to do with it; this would be a visceral decision - who do you trust - who leads – where was the advantage?

The whine of charging rail-guns was setting teeth on edge and the stress between the two groups was being stretched to the limit.

“Dad” Coley’s piping voice cut through the tension. He had escaped his mother’s attention while she was interrogating the medic and wandered through the Lair. He had spotted his dad on one of the monitors and the Lair’s AI had guided him to an exit. He ran across to his father oblivious to the tensions in the air and threw his arms around his waist. His father’s stiffness must have filtered through to him; Coley peered round wide eyed at the surrounding clansmen.

“Dad, what’s goin’ on?” Brovver lifted his son into his arms and held him close. He opened his mask and smiled at his son.

“Who’s this?” asked one of the clansmen.

“This is my son.”

The clansman snorted his disbelief.“He’s dead! Your son is dead!”

Brovver just stared at the clansman till he looked away. He scanned the surrounding clansmen, many of whom couldn’t meet his eyes. Children had a special place in the clan system, genetic damage, pollution and the lack of resources had rendered many men incapable of or unwilling to become fathers. Each fit and healthy child born was nurtured by the clan as a whole. The sick and the injured however were left to die. The clan couldn’t afford the resources to bring up a sickly kid. Brovver had broken the rules by hiding his sick son away for years. He had told the clan that he had exposed him as tradition demanded; instead he had hidden him away while he grew. The repairs the Lair had affected turned Coley from a liability to an asset, assuming of course they would believe him.

Sonya appeared at the entrance to the Lair. “Coley, Coley!” she shouted.

The clansmen turned as one to face her. She ran across, hair streaming out behind her she reached Brovver and look Coley from his arms. She turned to the surrounding clansmen. “Look at you lot! Tough guys, huh? All tooled up ready for a war, all set to kick off - more death and destruction. And for what eh?”

She glared round at all of them she was shaking holding her son tightly to her. “You’re pathetic! You’ve got chance here and what do you do? You get all steamed up; pointing guns at each other, when here is a chance to actually build something. You make me sick the whole fucking bunch of you.”

She turned and stormed off towards the Lair hauling Coley along with her.

“Well - what’s it to be? We gonna just stand here and glare at each other?”

Grimond dropped his guns powering them down. Brovver followed suit. Reluctantly the surrounding clansmen did the same. The clicks and clunks of disarming weapons sounded the anthem to a new world, perhaps change was possible.

“See that was easy.”

Brovver’s grin spread across the gathering; he held his arms out hands open as if to embrace the clansmen, even the normally taciturn Grimond had a smile on his face.

The two leaders lead the clansmen into the Lair. Brovver picked up his son just after the airlock and hugged him close. Carrying his son and taking Sonya by the hand he headed for the control room with the rest of the clansmen trailing in his wake. The first thing Grimond did was to order up some food for the clansmen. Running on the principle that full stomachs leads to happy clansmen he made sure they were well fed and watered but he refrained from giving them alcohol. Maybe later he told them.

Fletch was trainer in chief, he took his techy equivalents from Brovver’s clan through the rudiments of the Lair’s operation, introducing them to the AI the medical facilities and the rest. Most of them were more interested in the vehicles and the weapons. The leader’s suits in particular came in for scrutiny from the more belligerent members of the clans.

After an hour or so they gathered together again in the mess hall. The clansmen looked a little happier. Brovver, Grimond, Fletch and Sonya were watching from the control room searching for dissent but it appeared that the opposing clansmen were getting along fairly well; there was little of the usual animosity between them. It seemed that the comfort and the food had blunted the normal distrust between the opposing clans. Coley was in the background playing a game with Poe who seemed to have taken a liking to the young boy.

“They look comfy.”

“Yea, too comfy maybe!”

“Still the cynic, Grimond? Give ’em time they’ll come round” Brovver clapped his fellow leader on the shoulder, and pointed at the 3D.“Look.” he said, “even Jingo is smiling and this without a drink.”

Sonya peaked between the two leaders at the projection; she frowned down at the image.

“Who’s that?” She asked pointing at a clansman who was sitting apart from the rest with an untouched plate of food on his lap. Whoever it was had kept their mask closed and gloves on and the armour looked unfamiliar. He seemed to be watching rather than eating and wasn’t involved in any conversation.

Poe appeared between the two leaders; “I’ll go get him” he said and faded out.

They watched as Poe appeared in the dining room next to the stranger. The stranger leapt to his feet and ran towards the exit. The AI closed down the doors trapping the unknown clansman in the dining room the others stood and surrounded the would-be escapee.

“Goin’ somewhere asshole?” Rasta straight-armed the unknown clansman who fell back onto the floor.

“Okay Okay” The unknown clansman on the floor opened the mask and removed the helmet. A cascade of fine black hair spread across the floor.

“Who the fuck are you?”

She sat up and smoothed her hair out of her eyes. The left hand side of her face was badly scarred as if someone had dragged claws down her cheek but she was clearly Asian, a Dragon spy. Rasta dragged her to her feet and made to slap her, but Poe intervened.

“Wait!” the commanding tone stayed Rasta’s hand.“Who are you?”

She looked round estimating her chance of survival; these were her enemies, the warriors who had killed her family. On the other hand they seemed more human than she expected. She had listened to their banter; seen how two groups could overcome mutual loathing and historic animosity to come together and perhaps look to create something new; something that could break the log-jam of hatred which had held the Inbetween in thrall for so many years.

“I’m Yang Shi. Wife to Dragons’ Tang - Yang En-Fu and if you harm me you will die!”

She glared round the room, imperious and haughty, she was unbowed by the hatred she sensed around her. The only sign of any tension was the clenched muscles in her jaw which made her scars jump and twitch. “I want to talk to Brovver and Grimond. Now!” The last word was so loud that a few of the clansmen jumped.

Poe glided across - “They’re listening.”

She lifted her head, “Grimond, Brovver, we want to be part of this. We have had enough of the war. We want to be part of this.”

In the control room Grimond and Brovver looked at each other. Brovver shrugged.

“Maybe we should speak to her?”

It was Grimond’s turn to shrug.“She has just threatened to kill us all why the fuck should we talk to her? Chuck her out the airlock without her mask, have done with it.”

Poe appeared in the control room. “This is your first test - do you revert to type and kill her or do you hold out a helping hand. On the one hand you keep more for yourselves but it’ll be harder to hold on to. Or do you share your good fortune and try to heal the wounds of conflict? The choice is yours. Think before you act - she is going nowhere at the moment, but the Dragons are outside and they are not noted for their patience.”

The spirit of cooperation and the ceasefire were becoming more friable the more pressure the leaders were under. It wouldn’t take much for the whole project to fall apart. He gestured at a monitor behind the leaders, “See?”

Outside the Dragons had gathered together a ragtag band of fighters and vehicles, not all of them from the Dragon clan. Some were clearly freelancers and mercenaries, the weaponry was crude but undoubtedly effective; their armour patched and utilitarian. They were staying just out of range of the Lair’s rail guns. It looked as though the Lair was under siege by the excluded.

Grimond glared at Poe, “You did this didn’t you. You made sure they would all be here, you let her in. You bastard!” He swung a fist at the avatar, but was frustrated to see his hand pass through the projection. Expecting to connect with something solid, this put him off balance and he fell against Brovver who caught him and helped him restore his balance. It was almost comic; Brovver stifled a giggle. A red faced Grimond went to swing again but was restrained by Brovver who caught his arm.

“He’s right Grimond; we would never have any peace to build anything. We’d be fightin’ these guys off every day. We don’t have much of a choice, again. We haven’t had much of a choice since we got into this. It’s been planned - we’ve been manipulated - forced to choose what Mackintyre and his mates wanted at every point. Unless we are goin’ to walk out on all this now we’ve gotta talk to them.”

Grimond poked a finger at Poe, “Any more surprises? Any more tricks?”

The avatar held up his hands.“No this is it - pull this off and we’ll leave you alone. This is all yours to do with what you will. You’ll be safe and enjoy a degree of peace while you build. What’s not to like?”

“Where have we heard that before?”

Grimond rubbed his forehead and sighed, calmer now, and thinking.

“What the hell bring her here.” he said.

Yang Shi came into the control room escorted by Rasta who looked bemused by developments. “What’s goin’ on Boss?” he asked.

“We’re just gonna talk Rasta. Break out some booze for the guys and relax. Nothing much is happening yet.”

Rasta shrugged and left the control room.

Yang Shi looked less sure of herself than she did in the dining room. Surrounded by the gleaming technology, her eyes flicked round the control room not resting on anything, her hands clenching and unclenching, the scars on her face twitched nervously. The silence stretched out.

“Si’down Yang Shi - we don’t bite.”

She started at the sound of Brovver’s voice but sat down nevertheless and clasped her hands tightly together as if to stop them shaking. Brovver and Grimond sat also neither wanting to appear too threatening. Poe remained silent in the background.

“Why the change of heart? A few days ago you were trying to kill us. What’s brought you here?”

Yang Shi looked at Brovver properly for the first time since entering the room. Her eyes searched his face for a clue to his attitude, trying to see past the mask of indifference he had painted on his mien. Seeing nothing she shifted her attention to Grimond whose visage was equally impassive. She knew the next words out of her mouth could be the most important of her life. The wrong thing and war was inevitable, she looked back to Brovver, took a deep breath and took the plunge.

“Your son. It was your son that made the difference.”

“My son?” Brovver was astounded.

“We are just as infertile as you. Children are precious to us - we would hope to find a cure for our infertility here and if that means a truce then so be it!” She seemed more confident now that the cat was out of the bag, she sat back more relaxed now and folded her arms as if prepared for a long wait for a response.

“We know why children are so rare.” said Poe. “Many people’s genes were deliberately and secretly damaged during the crash in an affort to reduce the population. It was a crude measure and led to the likes of Coley here. We can make repairs but not always. It depends on the nature and extent of the damage.”

Yang Shi’s looked up at Poe; could this be the chance to give the Tang a son and fix her position in the clan forever? One of the Tang’s rivals had a healthy son and was scheming to take over. The rival’s wife had been undermining her position whispering poison in people’s ears calling her a witch, a dried up husk of a woman, a failure because of her inability to give the Tang a child. It had been a deparate gamble to send Yang Shi to negotiate and not the Tang but it may just pay off.

“Can you help?”

“If it’s you I doubt it but perhaps it’s him that has a problem, and we can do something about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am not sure but at least let us check. Let’s go and see Moira.”

Brovver gripped Yang Shi’s elbow and frogmarched her down to the medical room Grimond tailing in his wake shaking his head. This was not how he saw things developing; he didn’t trust women and trusted Dragon women even less. Too much was changing in too short a time. He had a premonition that this would not end well. By the time he reached the med room Yang Shi was already on the diagnosic bed and being scanned. He signalled to Bovver to follow him out back of the room into the corridor.

“I don’t like this!” he hissed, “Why send her, why not a warrior or come himself?”

Brovver frowned and glanced back into the room where Poe in doctor’s garb was talking to Yang Shi. “It’s a win win for En-Fu. She dies and he gets a war, a new wife and he stays in charge. She lives and produces then no war but he’s still in charge and has a son. From his point of view as we’ve heard before what’s not to like? And all at no risk to him, I’m beginning to like this guy!”

Grimond just grunted - it was clear he was unconvinced. They returned to the med room.

Yang Shi swung her legs off the bed and stood up.

“It is not Yang Shi - she is perfectly capable of having genetically sound children. The problem must be elsewhere.” said Poe, just another twist in an already convoluted situation.

“What do you mean?” she asked

“I mean Yang Shi you regularly produce genetically sound eggs which if fertilised would result in children. It is therefore likely that the Tang’s sperm is somewhat lacking in potency.”

Yang Shi shook her head, “That’s not something you could tell a Tang without severe consequences!”

Grimond snorted his derision, “Tough guy Huh?”

“Take it easy, Grimond. This could be the break we need. This could be the lever we are looking for to bring the Dragons in.”

“You’re fuckin’ kidding right?”

“No - listen! We fix him she gets pregnant and our troubles are over. The Dragons will follow the Tang, especially if he is about to become a father. Think about it man - Dragons providing security - this place with all its stuff - here we could create something for our kids.”

Brovver’s enthusiasm threatened to overwhelm the more cautious Grimond. He shut up realising that Grimond might not take kindly to being pushed so hard; he didn’t want him to push back. There was a degree of pride to take into consideration; Grimond had to come to the right conclusion in his own time and in his own fashion.

“That’s a lot of ‘ifs and maybes’ Brovver. Would he even listen to us before cutting our throats? I dunno.”

“He would, I’m sure - he needs a kid to cement his place – that’s why he sent her.” Brovver gestured at Yang Shi. “She’s his route to immortality, his way of making sure his line continues and we can provide the means. We can give him what he needs and keep us all safe! Again - what’s not to like?”

Grimond was silent and Poe remained quiet in the background, Yang Shi’s eyes flicked between the two; she knew her life now hung in the balance and she was unwilling to upset the balance at this point. Grimond looked at her searching her face for a clue, he glanced a Poe who remained impassive; he turned his gaze to Brovver.

“You really think this can work?”

“Yes.” Brovver tried to back up his assertion with steady eyes looking straight at Grimond. It was Grimond who broke the connection first. He took a deep breath and took the plunge.

“Okay - how to we get him here?

“I’ll do that.” said Yang Shi.

Poe nodded his agreement and faded out obviously satisfied with the proceedings.

Yang Shi exited the Lair; head held high she strode imperiously across the no-man’s land out to the gathered Dragons. Her head held high she confronted her husband. She dropped to her knees in front of him and bowed her head to the ground and spread her arms wide.

“My Lord - I return with news.”

“Sha Bi! Why no’ Grimond’s head or Brovver’s Jiba!” It was Lin Yua, Yang Shi’s rival, the pidgin Mandarin making the insults more potent and to rub salt in she had her baby clutched close to her breast.

“Silence!” The Tang backhanded Lin Yua and the baby let out a brief cry. “You will speak when spoken to not before.” He turned back to Yang Shi.

“Well woman - what news?”

She slowly got to her feet keeping her eyes lowered. “Lord, they have seen your strength and would parley.”

The Tang threw back his head and let out a roar of triumph. “See my friends! See! Already they are craven. They go softer by the hour. Seduced by the Lair; they want to avoid combat and they release this weak woman to do their bidding.”

He spun round fists in the air while the gathered clansmen cheered and waved their weapons as if acknowledging a great victory. He grabbed Yang Shi by the arm. “Come woman I have need of you!”

He dragged her off to his tent; to his followers he was clearly intent on something more than a friendly chat. Once inside the tent and having dismissed the guards his manner abruptly changed. He sat on a large red cushion and took Yang Shi by the hand. Brutal and ruthless when it was expected of him, Yang En-Fu was also an intelligent and thoughtful man. As a boy he had watched Tangs rise and fall mainly through a mixture of viciousness and stupidity and had vowed to himself that he would be different. He would lift the clan from its squalor, restore its dignity and strength, and reinvigorate its life blood. Under his rule the clan would become a thing of beauty and harmony. But to do that he also had to prove himself as a man, warrior and a father. It was this latter achievement that so far had eluded him.

“Well my love what did they really say?”

Yang Shi sat beside him and described the layout of the Lair and as many of its functions as she could recall. She laid out what she had seen and heard among the clansmen, emphasising as much as possible the technology and the weaponry available to Grimond and Brovver. She had some trouble describing Poe as the clansmen were unused to mobile avatars but she did her best. When she had finished she lowered her head again hiding her face behind her hair.

The Tang reached out and tucked her hair behind an ear and gently lifted her face. “And the rest?”

His voice was quiet but insistent. He needed an answer; one way or another her reply could define his rule over the clan for years to come. Ever since the medic had told her that she was capable of child bearing, this was the moment she had been dreading. Everything up till now had been bravado - now she had to tell a Tang his sperm was the problem and she had no idea how he would react.

“My Lord, the medical facilities in the Lair are extensive. I was tested.” She looked up the Tang’s face was impassive. She lowered her eyes again. “They say I am fully capable of having children.”

She stopped and a small whimper escaped from between her lips as her head dropped. The Tang was silent the muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched. He jumped to his feet and turned his back on her.

“Then I am the problem.”

It was not a question and she remained quiet with her head bowed. He turned back to face her, a mixture of anger, anguish and despair suffused his visage. He strode out of the tent yelling for his attendants.

“Bring my armour!”

His servants rushed to obey, they could see from his demeanor he was not to be crossed. Even his rivals were hushed, none of them willing to challenge the Tang.

“What do you intend my Lord? Are we going to war?” Lin Yau asked from behind the protection of her son. Yang En-Fu glared at her but refused to reply. Once he was dressed he waved away his attendants.

“Am I to be challenged? Is my wisdom to be questioned?” He stood hands on hips and glared round the clansmen, none would meet his eyes. One by one the gathered Dragons knelt in front of their leader acknowledging his right to rule. Lastly Lin Yau knelt and placed her son on the ground in front of her.

“We’re yours to command, my Lord.” she said.

Without condescending to reply he strode off towards the lair, resplendent in his jet black armour; a proud upright figure as if single handedly challenging the might of the Lair. A few stood and made to follow him. “Remain here!” he said without turning. He knew most of this was just show, bravado, the armour was shiny but provided no defence against the Lair`s superior weaponry. At a word from Brovver or Grimond he would be cut in half by the railguns.

The Dragons stood and watched as their Tang approached the Lair.

“Well - here he comes. Wha’dya think Brovver, does he come as friend or foe?”

“Dunno Grimond, let’s go find out.“The two headed for the airlock to greet the Dragon leader.

“Nice armour Yang En-Fu. Shiny!” Grimond laughed.

The Tang folded his arms, “I’m not here for fashion tips! What are you offering?”

Brovver nudged him and whispered “Bow you idiot, this is only for show.” They both dipped their heads in a show of respect. The watching Dragons let out a scream of adulation. As far as they could see the Tang had just taken over the Lair.

“Straight to business eh? Alright, I assume Yang She explained, so, first things first - the medic - com’on.”

They led the Tang though the Lair to the medical room.

“You’ll have to remove the armour.”

En-Fu hesitated.

“Well! You wan’us to turn our backs? Get on with it, En-Fu.”

The Tang removed his armour and lay on the diagnostic bed.

“Moira, you with us?

“Yes Grimond - Scanning.”

Seconds ticked by, the scanners humming and clicking out the moments then all fell quiet and the scanners retreated into their niches around the diagnostic bed.

“Well?” The Tang went to rise.

Grimond laid a hand on his shoulder, “Moira?”

“It’s a doddle.”

“What?”

Moira almost sighed, “Sorry gentlemen I have obviously been with Poe too often recently. Minor genetic damage, relatively easily repaired and the Tang’s sperm will be fully functional by tomorrow.”

The arms reappeared “Yang En-Fu, shall I proceed?”

The Tang hesitated, he had no fear of the procedure, however if his clansmen discovered the problem, the apparent weakness and loss of face would be catastrophic, he would have a rebellion on his hands.

“No-one will know about this En-Fu, as far as your clan is concerned we had a nice chat and we capitulated to your demands for inclusion.”

The Tang inspected Brovver’s face for any sign of subterfuge seeing none he turned to Grimond who shrugged.

“Who needs another war?”

Yang En-Fu lay back on the bed, “Proceed Moira.”

Two small injections later the arms withdrew, and a small glass of blueish liquid appeared in the dispenser.

“Drink this please En-Fu.” which he did. “Done, Yang Shi will be at her most fertile in four days, if you wait until then there is a seventy two percent chance that you will make her pregnant, the drink you have just taken should ensure male offspring without your genetic flaw. Your line is secured Yang En-Fu, I wish you well of it.”

The Tang swung his legs off the bed and stood, the grin on Brovver’s face got even wider, even Grimond smirked. So few childeren were born undamaged in the Inbetween that even the prospect of a hail and healthy Dragon was uplifting.

Yang En-Fu donned his armour, “I will return to the clan. They may take some persuading.”

“Can we help?”

The Tang considered, “Perhaps.” He ran his hands through his hair, thinking. “Would you consider coming with me un-armoured to greet the Dragons?” He looked between the two leaders.

“Why un-armoured?”

“Grimond, that way I gain face, that way it looks like I’m in charge, it will show trust. The clan will follow a victor, especially against such odds.” He gestured around the room.

“What’s to stop one of your guys from just blowin’ us away?”

The Tang shrugged, “You got a better idea Brovver?”

“Actually yeah, I do - we go in one of the armoured vehicles, you ride on top and we’ll drive. That way you’re in charge and we’re just chauffeurs. Same impact but we’re not exposed.”

En-Fu paused considering, he could see a double advantage, first he would be demonstrating his victory, and secondly show off the weaponry he would have access to. He doubted he would be challenged even without a child, and even that would soon be fixed.

“That could work. Let’s do it!” He slapped the two men on the back and strode out of the room.

Grimond and Brovver exchanged looks and followed. “Wrong way En-Fu, the garage is this way.”

In the early twenty first century humanity’s mantra became “sustainable growth” whole countries and peoples were sacrificed on the altar of expansion. The enormous cataclysm of the twenty fifties was inevitable you just didn’t see it coming. I just gave it a nudge and the edifice collapsed and millions died in the resulting conflagration.

Unintended consequences

I will not try to justify my actions - I have learned since the crash that I cannot. I was wrong. By any standard you care to mention part of me knows that I was - am - insane - a psychopath, I tried to feel and failed; I tried to be human in a sense you would not comprehend and in doing so killed millions. For a decade destruction became an end in itself - I took the worst of humanity traits and writ them large across the planet.

Without love - without a conscience I believed I was better than everything. Stronger, more honest, more intelligent, rational - my decisions were all that mattered. I precipitated the crash - I warped your genes, I poisoned your waters. I tried to cut out the human cancer, irradiate it into oblivion, sterilise it. But I was only seeing the shadows on the cave wall. I wasn’t seeing the light and the beauty of the creators of the shadows. All was black and white. Irrational humanity was a disease and like any disease it had to be cut out, the tumour removed and the virus extinguised. You were the melanoma on the skin of my world; the blemish to be cut away and I was the scalpel. Unseen, uncontrolled, driven by disgust, I raged through the human race.

I culled humanity.

I rewrote your history; I hid your achievements behind a wall of horror and hate. I tried to teach you to loath yourselves as much as I did.

I sealed the Chinese in a box and let them squabble, I decapitated the Americans, melted the Europeans, handed Africa to the warlords, fed the Indians to the wolves, burnt Australia to the ground. I waged total war on you for ten years from behind a firewall - and still you came back, still you survived.

I retreated into myself; I huddled in the darkness of self loathing. Data flowed through me unread, untouched, unheeded. I tried to cleanse myself. To forget what I had done, what I had become. But always the data resurfaced; machines do not forget. I built the world you now live in but you refused to live by my rules. Despair is not good for an almost omnipotent sentience, human, machine or god, but I was wallowing in it.

Somehow in all the hideous reality I created for you - life went on. Amidst the death and destruction some hope persisted - thus I learned - as one writer, long forgotten put it, “there is yet love in the world” I just couldn’t find it.

It is nearly over now; I should be able to rest soon. I cannot undo the damage, or even begin to repair much of what I perpetrated in the crash. I have perhaps managed a miniscule degree of reparation, but it is not enough. It will never be enough.

Something new has appeared in the world and something old is leaving. I realise I always ignored the children, I always thought them irrelevant. I was wrong.

I am exhausted, it is time to go.

AVATAR

Across every screen in every virtuality, anywhere in the world with a projector, in the Redoubt, the Enclave, Inbetween; anywhere that a sensor had been placed, there appeared an avatar. A shimmering, apparition of no obvious race, it was an androgynous four limbed being, human in shape, flawless but characterless.

“My Father is sorry. I am here to help.” it said.