A low buzz at the base of my skull woke me up. I swore and rubbed my eyes, then checked the map. I was almost home, fifteen minutes earlier than planned, which meant even less sleep than I had dared to hope for. I briefly metabolized the news. I got them through a small pill of information already sliced and digested by my extended ego. It was a nice summary about what had happened to the world during my return from the airport. The Mexican Gulf Algae Bloom was still out of control. A small start-up had promised to use some engineered phagocytes to eat it away. I looked over the specifics, called bullshit and bet against them. In a couple of hours I would know if my next sabbatical would be longer this time. Investments in Florida continued to fall. Business were fleeing left and right before the next super-storm could raze their facilities to the ground. I felt a small tingle and followed my gut and one of my agents. They led me to a paper by a think thank of the Delhi Technological University about weatherproofing industrial areas in Tamil Nadu. It looked vaguely promising and it deserved a couple of dedicated instances of my analyst programs to compile me a report. A new traffic management algorithm had gone live and cut down the already rare jams to almost nothing in the hour it had been running. There was the culprit of my missing sleep. I considered briefly if my current discomfort was outweighed by some long term benefits for me. The complexity of the answer was way above what I was currently inclined to invest into getting it. I opened my eyes and looked out of the window. Glowing fungi decorated the condos. Two old hags scratched the growths from the windowsills where they had began to stretch beyond the planned limits. A girl and her dog sat on the sidewalk brokering options for the next street festival. The exposed interface to get them was nice and clever. While I thought about putting a bit of money in the local market I saw my HUD distort and flicker for a second. I popped a handful of glucose pills and chewed them down. That was a bad omen. The dog hurled some insults at me as I failed to buy anything. I still marked the the girl as someone to keep an eye on, she seemed smart. The car drove on and finally, ten minutes later, halted in front of the barriers before my block. I reached across the seats to grab my backpack and my baseball bat. Baseball has been a solved game for almost a decade, there wasn't a league worth more than a couple of bucks anymore, and yet the sales of bats never went down. I stood in the street and breathed in deeply. Rain, concrete, compost and ozone, I had missed my city. I looked around, the car had turned around and left. Living in a drone-free quarter meant I had to walk the last half a mile. It was worth the gain in privacy. The streets were almost empty, 8 P.M. was a shitty time to walk around my neighborhood. The day activity had ended half an hour before, the night people would start to crawl out of their apartments only in another hour. Which meant out there there it was just my lucky self and a menacing financial corporation with its white-collar slaves. Wall Street had died under a group of musicians full of synesthesia inducing drugs outperforming them in every field. What nobody expected was that the corporations would survive and thrive on the street-level, preying on the old gangs and supplanting them. I gripped my bat with both hands and moved on. I could see a couple of middle managers in the back behind the six paper pushers that glared in my direction. I almost felt them evaluating the risk/reward ratio on ganging up on me. I activated my own agents and let them churn out an analysis of my own. They would overpower me but I was certain to break at least a couple of legs and maybe a skull in the process. I sent them the document along with a couple of quotes of nearby health-care services. There was some other downside in living in a drone-free area. They backed off, I walked faster. I reached the door of my condo without further incidents. As I entered the smell of mass produced protein paste and cabbage assaulted my nose. It really was good to be home. The white walls, the polished linoleum floor, the cameras and Ari sleeping in his old armchair were a sight for sore eyes. I climbed the stairs and saw two Laras hanging out in the corridor. My HUD played tricks again and I had to stop and shake my head. "Are you alright?" I looked up and saw one of the Laras coming to me. This node was a new one, the face tattoo had still red borders, but I knew the collective well enough to not be baffled anymore by the gallery of bodies. "It's nothing. I seem to be kinda low on sugar. Had a shitty flight a couple of hours ago." I smiled at her. Lara nodded. "OK, but promise to call up if you need anything. Will you come to dinner tomorrow?" I checked up my calendar. There was nothing about it. "Uh, yeah, why not? Where?" She briefly looked in the distance, then shrugged. "The Laras Downtown have harvested some fresh produce, the cell in Talleen Tower got a delivery of fish and the Laras in the 46th have assembled a new food-printer. I'll mail you the addresses." Mail, ugh, could have given me a clay tablet. I never understood their obstinacy in living in a separate network. I would need to connect with them somehow. "Fresh produce sounds nice. I will certainly come." I waved as I walked down the corridor and reached my door. I entered my apartment, closed the door behind me, threw my backpack in one direction, my bat in the other and sighed. A principle of headache pulsed weakly behind my eyes. Home greeted me, I felt the warm embrace and the eagerness of it helping me to relax. I had few things I cared for, my old sofa, my coffee-maker, my ukulele and Home. Having those things with me made me feel safe. The TV turned on and I swore. I had smashed the fucking trap before I left last time. The cable company homunculi must have somehow crawled inside again to fix it. I would have words with Ari. What good is a janitor with a potato gun if he can't keep away the maintenance of the Idiot box? Sounds and images assaulted me, bypassing some of the guards I had put on in the years. A storm of images flickered, some too fast to be perceived consciously, and I began to feel aroused. That was all that was left of the entertainment giants of the past. Making people horny and then making them feel guilty about it. Sex and death played on the screen. I reached behind myself, grabbed the coat-hanger and threw it at the TV set. It bounced off. "Fuck me." I walked to my bat, picked it up, went to the screaming screen and began to hit it. Each hit I landed triggered a wave of nausea. Their defenses had become better. I gritted my teeth and kept at it. After what felt an eternity the glass cracked. The nausea disappeared and I could let out my full frustration. Pictures flashed before my eyes, I saw a white room, I saw a little boy in an alley curled on the floor. Then it became silent and I stood over the broken device with a damaged bat. I would have to buy a new one, but that wasn't what worried me. I didn't remember that images, I didn't know where they came from. I threw the bat on the wrecked TV, Home would clean up later, and let myself down on the sofa. Something wasn't right, I felt it. I tried to understand what, prodded Home to give me a check-up and then discovered that there was an entire chunk of my extended Ego I couldn't access. Home tried to get my attention, there was something it wanted me to see. It had summoned Kerberos, and the safeguard snarled at something. Then I blacked out. [hr] I am a son of the Great Sun Prophet. I stand with my brothers side by side and look up at his glory. Every time I see him I feel bliss and safety. Each one of us is his child, each of us will bring his light into this world of darkness and corruption. My hands grip the rifle, I smile. The Sun, the eye of the Prime Mover, shines down on us. For years we had to crawl in the darkness and hide, but now we are ready. He stands on the roof of the city hall and looks down on us. He looks at me, I can feel it, I am happy. When he speaks his words are like honey. I repeat his gospel. Tears flow down my cheeks, I am one with him and my brothers. Each truth spoken gives me strength, each verse brings me closer to the Prime Mover. I am lucky. I am more blessed than all those poor souls that came before me. We will bring the blessing everywhere, we will save the world. [hr] I woke up sweating and shivering. Kerberos was gnawing at the edge of my consciousness, it was painful. Home was speaking but I couldn't understand it, something bad had happened. I stood up, I had to do something. I tried to access Home through my administrator channel, but it refused to answer. That was worrying. I stumbled to the switch-box in the kitchen. The whispering became more insistent. Urgency overcame me, Kerberos was barking. I almost fell on my way there. I grabbed the border of the workbench and pulled me on. I reached the switch-box, opened it and turned the main connection off. And then there was blessed silence. Too much silence. A bit calmer, I looked back at the board. I considered briefly how to proceed, what I would have to do. Enlightenment struck me unexpected, I needed to go out and mingle with others. I needed other people. I carefully reestablished connections to the outside. Home was ill and that would need to be checked, but it could wait. I loved Home and would have to find a way to reconnect as administrator somehow to share... something. It would have to wait. The world flowed again, I latched on the local networks and looked at what I could do this evening. It was hard. For some reason a part of me was sleeping behind Kerberos. The watchdog had taken it as he had bitten me. That too would have to wait. I smiled as I found the perfect situation to commune with others. Commune? Why had I used that word? Not important. No No. Important was to go out. There would be a block party in three hours. Night People were out then. Maybe even Laras, Laras were important. Couldn't wait for tomorrow. I had also to give something to someone. Couldn't remember what, not important. I needed food now. Had to be full of energy for later. I walked to the fridge. Protein bars and sugar. Good food. Good energy. I wolfed down the dinner and felt better. Something was blinking, some alert. I had to take a nap, more parts of my Ego were shutting down, I was becoming more stupid, that wouldn't do. I went back to the sofa and flopped down on it. Nap was good. I had to remind myself of something. I wrote a note and left it. The blinking insisted on authorizing something, I wanted it to go away and so I said yes. [hr] I crouch down behind the remnants of a wall. The acrid smoke burns my lungs, but I know I can carry on, the blessing will make me strong. The Sun Prophet said so. He whispers to me even now, he keeps me strong despite the machines of the Crawler In The Dark and his hordes. I turn to my brother, he lays at my side. The enemy had been trying to snatch him away, and so he had decided to leave for the Glowing After. What was left of his head was frozen in an expression of bliss. It was alright, the Sun Prophet had told him that he had fought enough. The Sun Prophet loved us, the idea of losing us to the Crawler In The Dark was too painful for him. I smiled. I would continue to bring the blessing to this world with the certainty that if the enemy was about to get me I could leave with a clear conscience. I pull out the magazine and put it away. I will take the weapon of my brother, he doesn't need it anymore. I close my eyes and commune with the others, I can see the enemy. His horrid machines, the hateful grin on the faces of his troops. Two of them are trying to surprise me. They sneak surrounded by their mechanical servants. Swarms of cold, dead eyes. I weep briefly for the souls of those who will never join me and my brothers, but there is nothing I can do about that. Maybe once the world is free there will be a way to save them, but not now. I carefully move a bit to the side and lean out of my cover. [hr] I opened my eyes and felt the vertigo. It took me almost a minute before I understood where I was. I checked the time, 10:23 P.M. Some of my agents were clamoring for my attention. I felt incomplete, I was still locked out from a part of myself and Home was silent. It seemed like the Delhi Report was a bit of a bust, nothing that could be applied directly to the situation in Florida. Still, there were some reference I could follow. I didn't feel like I would manage to do that now, so I thought about setting someone else on it. I forwarded it to a friend in Iceland. Not doing the work alone would cut into my gain on the issue, but a part of the reward was better than nothing at all. I tried to review the past few hours. The recording of my arrival Home was damaged and scrambled and I remembered only short flashes. There was the chance to recover it anyway with some good memory-forensic software. It would take time. I rose from the sofa and looked around. The TV was smashed, that at least was positive. I also had left a note for myself. [i]Home is ill, Kerberos is ill. Do not turn on.[/i] That wasn't exactly encouraging. An infected Home was bad news and sanitizing it would cut into my budget. I walked into the kitchen and opened the cabinet with my backup server. I turned it on, loaded my memories and started a recovery program. It would take half a day but I could probably get those hours back. I went to the fridge and took an energy drink. I briefly wondered why I had used the note and not something more informative, but then I felt that it wasn't important. An alert came up, I had to leave soon to go to the party. The reason I had to go was not really clear, but it was another minor quibble I decided to ignore. There was something strange, but I couldn't figure out what. I had to leave. I had to go out. Why? I... another alert, something from the parts of my Ego I couldn't reach. I would ignore it. No, that wasn't right. I... I... [hr] I look down at the little boy laying on the stretcher. My estimation is between eight and twelve years of age, malnutrition makes it difficult to pinpoint it exactly. My hands are covered in blood, my sense of smell is burned out. I burned it out this morning. A horrible mess of cables and circuitry sticks out from the back of his head. The borders are infected, there's not much time. For all its primitive nature, that modded bootleg copy of Malaysian cognitive enhancement is freakishly effective at contrasting the mix of anesthetic drugs that keeps the boy from trying to kill me and blow out his brains. I grab the surgery robot and connect to it. I flex scalpels and saws, I have to be fast to save this child. I felt anger rising at the thought of what the Sun Prophet was doing. That wouldn't do now. I have to be detached. Drugs flood my system, I feel calm, my attention is focused on the job ahead. Once I will finish that it will take years of therapy to give the boy a semblance of normalcy and to remove a decade of chemical manipulation. That wasn't important now. My sharp fingers descend on the child. [hr] I threw up razors in an alley. My throat burned, my stomach was cramped in a knot of pain. I thought I saw some blood in the puddle of half digested food on the pavement before me. I leaned on the wall and sled down. I shivered and held my head. It was pulsating, I had lost another part of my Ego, cut off behind some kind of barrier. Warnings flashed all over my vision. I couldn't find the strength to look at them. I couldn't commune. I sobbed, then cleaned my mouth with a sleeve. The pain slowly faded. I tried to access glands and drugs I didn't have. I had to be strong for the Sun. As I calmed down a bit of strength returned to my limbs. I stood up. I had to reach the party, it was close, just another block. I left the alley with unsteady steps, the streets had begun to fill with people. I wanted to preach, but there were not enough of them. The party, that was the right place. I stumbled on. I was happy. I was fulfilling a very important mission. More warnings flashed. They were annoying. I waved my hands to make them go away. They didn't go away. At the party I would preach. A lot of people would hear the word of the Sun. A lot would be saved. I saw the soldiers of the Crawler In The Dark. All black armor and glass hiding their hateful faces. Swarms of machines around them. Whirring above me. I ran. [hr] I look at the courier in front of me. Well fed, nice woman, her eyes are calm. My hands are clean, my sense of smell is still burned out, yet the stench of blood and pus permeates everything. She doesn't smile, that's good. In the ruins of Manila there's nothing that deserves a smile. I put forward two memory packs and say, "These are the collected experiences of two field medics and of a soldier. This—" I put another memory pack on the table "—are the experiences we could extract from the children we got before they blew their brains out." She takes the packs and looks me in the eyes. "Did you save them?" I sigh, bile is rising from my stomach. "We tried. We succeeded a few times. We will continue to try. Bring the memories to the States. I don't care how you'll show them to the people, I know only that they must know what happens here." She weighs the packs in her hands. As if she could feel what's inside. I can see greed in her eyes now. "Importing experiences from War-zones is illegal." "And I don't give a fuck about that. We can't continue to do this alone, we need more medics, we need more drugs, we need some decent software." I sigh and rub my eyes. "We also pay you well enough, so quit the haggling and do your job." She shrugs and pulls a cable out of arm. She connects it to the first pack. I pull out the last of the packs and put it in front of her. "And this are my memories. Do whatever you need to do to bring some help to us." I cut the connect—. [hr] I hear voices. I slowly drift back to wakefulness. I lay on something soft, I smell disinfectant and chlorine. I want to open my eyes but can't. I want to speak but don't remember how to do it. The voices discuss something. I think they talk about me. I feel parts of myself reconnecting to me. I feel becoming smarter. "Well sergeant, you caught her just in time. We can probably save at least half of her personality with all the backups you found at her place. We also managed to clean her." "Nice. Now tell me what she had, because for the love of God I swear I never saw something like that." "Some kind of malware. I had never seen this type, but after we checked her movements of the last weeks we could track it down to the Philippines. She caught it there probably. A colleague at the CDC says it was some kind of weapon used for indoctrination. She was a walking war-crime." "What?" "Nasty piece of software, tries to infect large groupings of people and remains hidden until it has a chance to strike. Her defenses somehow messed it up, so it wasn't as effective as it could have been." "Shit. Do we have to expect more of them?" "I hope not, they will screen the airports for it now that we know what to look for. And we have begun to develop some countermeasures to inoculate into the networks. How did you catch her?" "She called us. That stuff must have triggered some alarms and a part of her Ego reached out. We were way down her emergency call-list. Will the damage be permanent?" "As I said, we will recover about half of her personality. Depending on the data we get from her home we may infer even more. The problem is only that we lost most of what was in her at the moment. She carried a lot of different memory sets." "Smuggling?" "We may never know, we had to scrub them." I feel unease at that. I have no idea why. Then an alert appears, I have managed to reconnect to some of my agents. It seems I had won some kind of bet.