Metal Organism Designed Only for Cuddling - Part 3

That Woman came to the store to pick me up. She was dressed in some religious frock that covered her nearly from the top of her head to the tops of her shoes. Unlike a cat, I actually have color vision and found it to be colors I could have happily lived without seeing, a dark tan and brown combination which clung to her narrow frame and only accentuated her lack of a steady diet.

When she picked me up she paid in Energy Credits to the Build-A-Pet and they accepted them happily. Energy was hard to come by today especially during the winter since the bulk of the city's services were powered by solar energy. I was fueled up before I left and my energy management software was upgraded right before I left to maximize my stores. I was also able to be charged using solar energy, electrical energy and even static electricity, I collected the stray ions from carpeted environments, sweaters and any place else electrical energy might linger that I might absorb. Many of my proper feline mannerisms would also have the happy byproduct of conducting electricity down my extruded fiber super-conductive fur.

While I waited for release from my Build-a-Pet pen, I was shown sample images from my new home, so that I might familiarize myself with the environment. They wanted me to maximize my time with my new boy, Justin Pennyworth. I was show a biography of his lifestyle, his health and parameters that I would be expected to monitor, graph and report on weekly. My sensor suite was sufficient to mark his health from as far as ten meters away. Ten years old, above average student, below average athlete due to a variety of minor health ailments, mild asthma, potential for seizures, whose source as yet unknown, and his visual impairment. In many ways he seemed an unremarkable lad, except for his sensor ribbon which approximated in a very primitive way some sense of sight. He suffered some sort of congenital disease as a babe and it caused him to have a neural difficulty in his visual cortex. The technology he is currently using has co-opted other parts of his brain and turned them into a pseudo-visual cortex, with very limited results.

I spent my two days watching videos of the house, the boy and his family. I came to several conclusions regarding them after watching the footage. They were only a little better off than most of the denizens of New York City. Working with the Ecclesiastical Government as social workers allowed them to maintain their modest apartment, the therapy for their son and a minor award from their Patron allowed them to buy me as part of his therapy toolset. The father, Todd Pennyworth, a man of modest physical build, who wore his church sponsored suit of brown and tan over his taunt and skinny frame with its too tight neckline, seemed an honest fellow. His face, sharp and angular had a bit of a nervous tic over one eye that was noticeable only when he was under stress or whenever a representative of the Church was around.. There was something about him that would make me suspicious, but I could not tell you what it was. The wife, Sarah Pennyworth was reputed to have come from good religious stock and as such gave Todd whatever legitimacy he enjoyed as a member of the Church. Humans might have once considered her good looking but the birth of Justin seemed to drain her of any vitality, color or energy from her. Comparing photos of her from before his birth and afterward almost made her appear to be a different woman.

No matter. I was not intending to stay long, at any rate. But I noted there might be a snag with my easy escape. It came in the form of a security system named Max. Max was the family's protection hardware provided by the Church, both as a watchdog and spy to monitor their activities. The Pennyworth's had access to classified Church hardware and would not be allowed to access just anything without proper protocols. That is where Max came in. He provided all information into and out of the household. Even this feed I was watching was encoded, connected and provided by Max and the Church. The Patron who paid for this connection was called Proctor Grimaldi. The Proctor was a distinguished gentleman of the Church, with an exemplary record of service. From what I was able to get from Max, the Proctor had considerable influence, and was responsible for a number of services in the borough of Manhattan with its population of fifteen million souls crowded on the island.

Max was a factor I did not count on and once I realized he existed, I knew I would have to bide my time, so I set about learning as much as I could, so when the moment came where I could escape, everything would be ready and there would be no turning back.

MODOC - Part 4 - We don't need no stinking cat!

'Metal Organism Designed only for Cuddling' © Thaddeus Howze 2010. All Rights Reserved

Chapter 14

"How did I end up here in the Mobius and where exactly is here?"

"See, I told you it was too much for the little program to grasp."

"Shut up. Please don't make me ask again. Go back to monitoring the network around Lorissi. Do something useful with those clock-cycles you are spending running your mouth. As near as I can tell, you were dragged here when we were uploading our newest programs to the Mobius. Your suicide mission coincided with our upload. You were so tiny, we were unaware of your presence."

"It is taking all of my consciousness and processing power to be able to even see you. Are you telling me there is more to this place than I can see?"

"The Mobius is all around us. There are no words for it in your language, we have borrowed something that resembles the basic concept. Something you call a Mobius strip. That describes the nature of this place, in the Universe, but not of it. On the backside of reality as it were.But for you to see it, I will have to shield you from it whilst I show it to you. Take my hand and I will explain how it came to be. But to explain everything, I have to tell you a bit more about the Precursors than most are aware of. What I am telling you is unable to be completely substantiated by any of us even the oldest, but it is the best we can deduce given the circumstances and information available to us."

Upon taking the hand of the Progenitor Isomorphic Intelligence, the Image was suddenly aware of a programmed environment far beyond anything he had ever seen before. And then that world fell away for a visualization clearer than any reality he had ever known before.

IN THE BEGINNING, there was the Universe and it was a single point that blossomed out and became an eleven dimensional space. This space coincided with a group of a multiversal series of constant universes with similar parameters. Those universes were bound by quantum effects and each was woven together by their causalities. We became one of many local universes, a segment of the Omniverse. And it was good.

As our galaxy of stars formed around the Great Darkness, the First Races were formed and they were what we now call the Precursor Races. They were not a single race, but a collection of our galaxy's greatest, smartest, best developed and perhaps most frightening species. Each achieved their super-intellect, some by manipulating matter, others by controlling energy, some shaped the very reality of their universe, other tapped into hidden energies beyond the consciousness of this universe.

Each moved away from their homeworlds into the Universe, a force to be reckoned with. But rather than conflict, each when they met the other, recognized themselves and instead of destruction, there was recognition and eventually brotherhood. The collections of information about them varied but they were both saviors and monsters in those early days. The oldest of the Great Galactics who remember them personally trembled as the Precursors strode the stars, changing matter and energy at their whim, creating stars and turning them out with the same ease at which we would later create torches to light our primitive dark worlds.

The Precursors worked according to an unknown plan and sired many children, some organic, some mechanical, some based in energy patterns found only in the swirling whipping gases of stars or super-giant worlds. Within these places, cold intelligences were born who would carry out the will of the Precursors at some point when they were no more. Even to this day, any planet of a gaseous nature with a metallic hydrogen or helium core may hide a cold intelligence that watches over the handiwork of their creators.

They shape not only their cold extelligences, they shaped the stuff of life, crafting millions of worlds with the seeds of evolution. Some worlds they shaped directly others they let only the hands of time create the creatures there. From their seeds of millions of worlds, those they favored sometimes took life, other times they died aborning with races without the good sense or good fortune that Nature seemed to bequeath to the First Races of our Galaxy. It was of no consequence to the Precursors, for they were immortal and had time to spare on their creations. But of one group, the Negators, who were obsessed with Death and Dying, understood something the other immortals did not. That all things must end for new things to begin. Their suspicions were there would be no new races until the old ones made way for them.

Nine billion years into the existence of our universe, our galaxy and likely nearby galaxies were burgeoning with life. The Precursors were happy with their creations and allowed them free reign to do as they willed until the Rift exploded into our Universe from Elsewhere. This wound to our Universe caused the Precursor Races to rally and a million years later, they had surrounded the Rift and awaited whatever had caused such an injury. Never ones to allow any opportunity to learn something new, the Precursors knew it for what it was for the nature of the Rift came through it, and a universe older, colder and more terrible was on the other side. The Precursors, save the Negators knew what they saw, the End of their lives as they knew them and in that time made ready. 

The Preservers and their allies prepared secret worlds to protect their most prized possessions, life itself. They moved entire worlds, suns, systems and quadrillions of lives to these secret enclaves to ensure their safety. This was not done lightly for the worlds they moved were traumatized by this and legends around the days when their suns stopped shining were terrifying and scarred many a civilization beyond repair. But many survived and thrived in their new homes. But there was almost no time. And not all of the children could be saved. Those that were strong were left to find their way in the new Universe to come.

And then one day, the Rift opened and Death strode through and our galaxy, once vibrant and alive became as quiet as the grave. An old evil had come to our universe, ancient, dusty and hungry for life. And Death reaped freely for a time.

Killinger Corporation was the chief exporter of military arms to distant star systems. Since most of the worlds that were desirable to Humanity were often already populated with other life forms, Humans had a tendency to shoot first, and ask for permission to live there, second.

This made Killinger Corp very popular with Humans all over the tiny, but fast growing Human Empire. One of the difficulties for early explorers was the decided lack of manpower that could be directed toward killing alien life or the removing of troublesome, alien indigenous cultures. Most humans were needed to help conquer the planet in terms of mining its rich mineral resources, of which, many planets had mineral wealth that simply made Earth look poor in comparison, or there was immense biological complexity just waiting to be exploited by pharmacological companies who couldn't get scientists to those planets fast enough. Sending marines into space, marines who could contribute nothing to the overall mission, other than their very vital machine gun fire, which granted, was necessary but ever so expensive since Marines had healthy appetites, and used up vital resources, like air.

No one wanted to send someone who could not really add technical value to any operation in space. The cost of shipping alone was astronomical, especially at superluminal speeds. Marines were best shipped at relativistic speeds, much cheaper, even it it took ten times as long, no one would miss them, they were after all, just marines. But once their families learned how long it would take for them to arrive in this era of faster than light travel which the marines were not using, they complained, so the practice was discontinued.

But since it would take just as long to stop them as ship them, the families got paid damages and the marines were none the wiser in the five or six years of cold-sleep they endured before they arrived at Alpha Centauri. For more distant colonies, only superluminary travel would do and for that only machines could afford to be shipped unless there was vast wealth to be had.

This meant there was a business opportunity for Killinger Corporation to expand their services by creating a cheap means of pacifying natives and destroying dangerous creatures. Warfare was all but unknown in the early 22nd century. It was not that mankind stopped enjoying the art of war, it was that the economies of the world were so interrelated, global warfare became simply impossible. You could not attack someone unless you were prepared to lose money on your own stock market. After a few stock market-driven pograms, war simply went out of fashion, with cultures that were too violent, simply financially exterminated and their corporations removed from trading on the global stock market.

Religious doctrines reigned supreme and for the first time, theocracy was the primary form of government on Earth, with the close second being corporate plutocracy. People were well cared for but for the most part lived relatively poor, religiously rigorous and emotionally-unsatisfying lives. But since the development of FTL space travel, cannibalism was down twenty percent all over the globe.

With a world-wide population of twenty seven billion, Humans left Earth in record numbers to be away from the oppressive religious and corporate governments which doled out food, energy and resources in a controlled fashion lest humanity be unable to support itself and flame out in an orgy of disease, rioting, or corporate malfeasance. Once Man left Earth,  Killinger Corporation decided to recreate warfare for the 22nd century. They created the Killbot Nine Thousand, commonly called K-9-K by the people to first receive the prototypes. Very impressive machines, armed with a veritable smorgasbord of rediscovered weapons, the K9K was lauded as the ultimate war machine. Strong, light, compact, non-breathing, it was the perfect device for making the galaxy safe for mankind. There was only one problem. Killinger had not shipped out new ones because of a issue in their New York engineering facility.

Twelve of the devices had been shipped out with their prototype programming in place. Eager to make sales, the devices were shipped with prototype software which could be upgraded using the FTL communication arrays called ansibles. When it came time for an data signal upgrade, the ansible was programmed to upload the newest version of the operating system and replace the initial software. When the connection was complete, the K9K's were reported as acting erratically and unpredictably. They also refused to accept any further remote upgrades, and refused to be shut down. They even stopped accepting commands from outside sources. The robots went rogue and were soon missing from the facilities that had paid handsomely for their protection.

Adding insult to injury, without the protection of the K9K, the local wildlife on all of the planets had begun to become more aggressive and emboldened by the lack of resistance. Requests for new K9Ks to replace the damaged units would take time. On the most distant world, nearly a year. The new settlers would be forced to reduce their operating capacity while untrained or barely trained local militias could be set up to protect the operations in the meantime. Killinger Corporation's reputation was in trouble. Their troubles did not end there.

The original version of the operating system had been stolen and replaced with a rogue virus, likely planted by a peacenik organization opposed to shipping war into space. The company had only shipped the twelve K9Ks because it was all they had available at the time. With the funding they received, they had created a run of over three dozen of the machines but they were all equipped with the same version of the operating system that had infected the distant devices. So every time one was turned on, it immediately went rogue and had to be destroyed. 

The company president, Arved De'Gallo refused to risk any of the other units and refused to install their primary chips which had been configured and encrypted with the viral OS. The only solution would be to find the real OS which would replace the virus-controlled system with the proper encryption keys and restore the K9Ks to their proper state of operation. There was such a thing as too much security. They had made them so secure they could not be replaced without rebuilding them from scratch as all of the parts of the device were made to be unable to be reverse engineered in case one fell into a competitor's hands. Nothing that could be done to fix this had been successful and two other machines were lost in various attempts at repair or reconfiguration. At sixty million a unit, no more money could be lost experimenting. The original OS had to be found.

De'Gallo's own company men were unable to track the hackers to their headquarters and were only able to determine that the hackers could not have gotten the technology out of the building. The company technology support thought the program might have been exchanged with another technical company in the building who shared the nanoforge production facility. There were thirty such companies in the building and it would take some time to check them all. De'Gallo was on the clock. With twenty more of the K9K to sell, the future of the budding Killinger Corp hung in the balance. Startup firms died in days in the 22nd century and what started as such a promising venture was now dying on the vine.

On Perseus Four, a K9K trundles through the forest examining local flowers, marveling at local insects and is pelted by stones from the local intelligent species which has a mild resemblance to what we would consider a large and unsavory appearing rodent with highly developed forepaws and a larger cranial bulge. Staring intently at the creatures, the K9K slowly approaches them and extends its highly weaponized hand in a sign of friendship. The rodent-kind stare back, approach slowly and a friendship is established. As the rodent-kind swarm all over the killer robot, they bite into it, marveling at its cool and impermeable flesh and they hear the decidedly loud and slightly unnerving sound of the K9K, purring.

MODOC - Part 3 - Video Visions

'Metal Organism Designed only for Cuddling' © Thaddeus Howze 2010. All Rights Reserved

I graced this planet with my creation on what would have been an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday, on the tiny planet known as Earth in, what I would later discover, as one of the dirtiest places on the planet, the city of New York in the year 2110 of the old calendar. I had already decided we would call this Year One of my new Empire.

You may call me MODOC. I decided I would call myself this seconds after my creation. It just seemed... right. MODOC stands for Metal Organism Designed only for Conquering.The perfect name for the eventual ruler of this planet of squishy bipeds. I was born from humble beginnings, at a place called Build-a-Pet. I was meant to be a toy for a child who had recently lost a pet and could not be consoled. I learned the stupid beast had been run over in the street. A fate for a lesser organism.



I only know this because when I was being created, That Woman kept saying how great it would be for him to have a new pet. She chose for me a perfect titanium skeleton based on the sublime feline form. She kept saying how much he would like a new cat. She made me with calico colors of red, brown, white and tan spots, and though I think of myself as male, I later learned that all calico cats are female. That Woman insisted on calling me she. "She looks so great. Justin will really love her." Just one of the many indignities I have suffered since my creation all of ten minutes ago, and would be forced to suffer for years in the future.

I was made slightly larger than normal cats, so I would be easier to see since the child is slightly visually impaired. She says slightly, I later find out the kid is nearly blind! I was given the company issued programming of a domestic house cat with an overlay of support and disability package to ensure I could be useful to the boy as he grew up. I would look like a cat, but work like a dog. Ugh.

All of this was imparted during my creation and happened in seconds. Programs were being sorted and downloaded which would included everything I needed to know. The chips used during my creation were heuristic and would allow my continued learning in service to my new boy. During the time I was having my chips pressed and created, there was an outage on the power grid in the area I was being created in. I believe that is where my initial spark of intelligence was born.

All I remember is that when I was first activated, I knew I was meant for bigger things. This idea of working with a human was simply not part of my ultimate destiny. I was larger than this plush and soft body covered with memory-muscular tissues which acted just like real cat muscles did. In all ways, I would seem like a very intelligent, super-docile feline who could be taught to fetch. The very thought of fetching something literally makes my fur stand on end.

I was not given a set of working claws. As I sat on the assembly line, I flexed my claws instinctively and instead of razor sharp shards of steel from which I would tear into my victims as I climbed over their bodies piled beneath my feet, I sprayed a fine mist into my eyes, and it stung and burned before I could blink it away. And the mist sprayed a slightly oily gel onto a set of plush set of self-cleaning paw pads. This idea was less than satisfying. A claw-free existence did not bode well for a mind with a thirst for bloodshed. But it was decided I would never being doing any of the things real cats needed claws for, so I was given a set of plushy pads in case the boy needing massaging, the gel would ensure friction-free movement.

Massaging? Is this the job of a conquerer? I think not. So for now I bide my time and await my pickup from the store. Once I meet the boy, I will decide how I will be escaping and setting about my plans for world domination. A nap sounds just about right. But first some grooming. Must look my best.

MODOC - Part II - Planetary Invasion

'Metal Organism Designed only for Cuddling' © Thaddeus Howze 2010. All Rights Reserved

Chapter 7

"They are all asleep," Biyu said to Chuntra. Biyu was finished strapping Master Wex down and checking for his vitals from the medical chair. He was well within the parameters for his species and was resting comfortably. His armored quills were growing in quickly replacing those lost during today's challenges. His natural regenerative capabilities were bolstered by an amino acid feed which fed his body's need to replenish his proteins lost rebuilding his body. He was also the least injured of the three males onboard the ship. "We have five days until we reach the Trinary Expanse. I hope to be able to pick up a clue once we arrive in system."

Chuntra stood with the support dome of her Corvan Regular armored suit open and water pooling around her neck. Her three eyes were above the water level focused intently on the three very different soldiers breathing with labored but quiet breaths. She noticed the smooth but alien shapes of the ship and realized that she was not in a human designed ship. She touched a variety of surfaces and noted exotic materials. "This ship was made by the Bel-ha, wasn't it? How did a human end up with a ship created by an Old Galactic Race?"

Travelling Light, a starship of Bel-ha design moved through subspace by folding the distances between the destination and their previous location. The ship was fairly unique as was most Bel-ha designs in that it was customized and created to specification. The designer of the ship was Silver Death-Singer, a Sjurani Prince, ninety years ago, commissioned as a deep insertion vehicle.

The Bel-ha had commercial ship facilities where they created their standard warships and commercial starships. Travelling Light was not one of them. She was created with a particular need in mind and as such had capabilities other ships her size simply did not have. She was created as a gunship, her firepower, disproportionate to her size. She was also created to be a stealth ship, undetectable except by the most sophisticated of electronic warfare vessels. She was designed to operate deep in enemy territory, drawing energy and fuel from the stars. She had limited self-repair capacity to continue operating behind enemy lines with limited resources.

She was designed as an intelligent starship, complete with a neural network, capable of learning, adapting and even flying herself. In her own way, she was a living starship, capable of learning as well as any sentient organism. She came into the possession of Thomas Wilks over three decades ago and has worked as his primary support ship during his time as a covert operative and later as a Resurrection Soldier.

"This ship and I came into the Major's employ nearly thirty years ago," Biyu began. "A newly minted Resurrection Soldier, one of the last of his generation and unbeknownst to us at the time, the last to be made, was brought online thirty years ago. He was code-named "Majoris" after the starship Majoris Selkar that brought Pan-humanity to Galtan II, all those years ago. He chose his call-sign in tribute to that great ship, which was later lost in the battles against the Nox during the years of the First Galactic Wars."

Biyu came around to the Major and extended cables from her fingertips which sought out access ports on his body. As she plugged into his body, she became aware of several diagnostic displays in her visual field. The diagnostics indicated his biomechanical systems were functioning within the expected parameters but there were signs of degradation due to his recent traumas. His nano-machine count was down and would continue to degrade as long as he had no contact with his Frame. She also noted without his image, she would have to maintain certain support algorithms which kept his body functioning at peak efficiency. As long as he did not strain himself, he would be fine.

She sat down and looked over at Chuntra. "Come and sit with me, Ambassador and I will tell you how Thomas and I first met. I will have something synthesized that you will be able to enjoy while we talk away the hours. The boys won't be getting up for quite some time."

"Ship, if you wouldn't mind?"

"Ambassador," the ship began, "we have a limited menu of Corvan delicacies but I am certain we can find something you like."

"Thank you, Ship. I will trust your judgment."

The ship slid the medical chairs of the injured crew members back along the wall and created a depression on the floor. The floor began to glow and soon water began to float in the air between the floor and the ceiling. The water continued to fill the area until it was a ball approximately 3 meters in diameter.

"Do you have a preference for salt water or fresh water. We have seventeen different water worlds on record, if you have a particular preference, we can configure the water with the salt and chemical makeup of whatever world you choose from our database. If you know the chemical configuration of a particular world, we can provide that as well," the ship announced.

Chuntra stopped for a moment to consider. "To be honest, I have never been to Corva Prime, the world of my people. Is that in your database?"

"Of course, this vessel has carried over sixty Corvan delegations in its time. Please stand by, it will only take a moment. I have taken the liberty of heating the water gently past your internal body temperature. There will also be food made available shortly. I will take your suit in the back and begin making modifications, so that it is more comfortable and still as useful as it can be."

"Thank you, Ship." Chuntra slid out of her suit and reached into the bubble of water. She pulled herself up into the bubble and enjoyed the freedom of movement. She extended her tentacles and noted the field extended as well. "I'm much more comfortable now, Biyu. I guess it storytime."

Biyu's Story

I met the Major on the two hundred anniversary of humanity's arrived in the Twenty Moons region of Toranor and thirty-five years ago.

I had recently decided to leave the employ of Danarius Flen Hall, callsign, Coda, a Resurrection Soldier or Revenant of some skill and renown but very questionable morals. He had been employed in a variety of insertion missions during the first Galactic War and his tactics and problem solving capabilities left much to be desired. He was well regarded in the Triune Council and Corvan Military as an effective operative. His last mission required he infiltrate a splinter colony of humans who were engaged in rogue genetic engineering experiments.

Those experiments used a variety of alien species and were attempting to reverse-engineer genetic patents used to modify certain species to live in specialized environments. These exclusive environments were bonded at the genetic level and if you lacked the proper gene structures, you could not enter, or as we found out later, leave without disastrous results. They were using these gene-patents to create a slave ring of aliens who could be forced to work in gene-engineered environments and would die if they left them.

Coda and I infiltrated the core facility with the orders to capture and return the scientists to the Triune Council. Coda decided to destroy the facility and all the unfortunate creatures living within it. There were tens of thousands of innocents trapped within the facility. I was unaware of his true intentions and by the time I realized what he had planned, there was nothing I could do to stop it. The Imperium considered it good work, but I believed there was more to the operation than he did, but he was unwilling to follow up and the case was closed.

I decided after five years of working with Coda, I was done. He and I had done two dozen or so missions together but I never felt close to him despite the nature of the psychographic manipulations required to keep him sane. I sometimes wondered if he needed more psychographic therapy than I could give him. We parted ways and I did not see him again for a number of years.

When I next saw him, he was working on Galtan II, as a research specialist, dealing with advance genome manipulations. I heard through the Vine he was specifically assigned to investigate, infiltrate and destroy any genetic aberrations found in the Imperium.

I had been working as a Pilot for almost forty years at that point and considered leaving the line of work. I had plenty of money and could have retired to a life as a researcher, which I preferred. Many Pilots died early in their careers because their Soldiers did not take their relative fragility into consideration when they are working on operations. I recommended a different training regimen to the Magistrorum, with more emphasis on combat operations and training, in addition to our technical duties. It was considered to be a burden but after two years arguing, I became a trainer at the Magistrorum and trained other Conscientia in both their technical duties and their basic military duties.

That is where I met Lieutenant Thomas Wilks. He was assigned to the facility as a new assigned Revenant, and he would be teaching with me, helping the new Pilots to understand their strengths and limitations in the field and how they could best help the Revenant they were assigned to. This ushered in a new training program that increased the survivability of new Pilots. Having worked as a survivalist, insertion, reconnaissance and covert operative, his extensive training was perfect for the types of environments Pilots found themselves in.

We worked together in this fashion for five years before we were called on to rescue a Sjurani starship downed on a Breeder world. The first Breeder Wars were dirty and violent and the Breeders attacked many early outposts and took over those worlds in the early stages of transformation and habitation. The Sjurani were sent to investigate a Subaki colony that had been overrun with Ebuntun, an insect-like breeder which had destroyed the primary base colony, and were spreading to other facilities on the planet. A group of Sjurani strike cruisers had been assigned to intercept and stop the Ebuntun fleet and rescue the colony. There was considerable investment in the terraforming technology in use there, so the Imperium was interested in protecting it.

Early in the operation, something had gone wrong and the Sjurani were requesting half a Revenant team to investigate and recover any of their lost operatives. They were also expected to complete the original mission of the Sjurani and destroy the Ebuntun and save the colonists. Unfortunately, there were only five Revenants available, including Thomas, and it was deemed that the they, two squads of heavy regulars and two dozen mechs would be assigned to the planet. Thomas had never been assigned a Pilot since he came directly from his Bonding to the Magistrorum, so I agreed to be his Pilot, even though I had promised myself, I would never again work in the field. I must admit to being intrigued by him, he was very much a model soldier, even though he had seen combat from a variety of fields, he still retained a very human, very well-centered carriage.

Thomas and I were assigned a small squad of light mechs, who would provide support for the five other Revenants who would be leading the primary assault. We would offer fast attack services only when necessary to help hold a line. The mechs were equipped with jump packs, I used a glider-wing and Thomas's Frame has an anti-gravity thrust array, so we were able to arrive on the scene with minutes of being called. I am happy to say, that the early days of that campaign did not see very much combat and I got to spend time with Thomas as we drilled with the mecha pilots on tactics against their enemy.

This was not the first time I or Thomas had dealt with the Ebuntun but our mech pilots were young and inexperienced in combat against non-human adversaries. It was important they understood the difference. The enemy was not human and they should not subscribe human ideals, behaviors or morals to them. That would get them killed. The Ebuntun retreated, at first, from the one thousand Corvan Regulars, the two hundred Pan-human Mechanized Assault group and the five Resurrection Soldiers who were assigned to this task force. There were several Eagles, providing air support and our light mecha squadron of twenty-four heavy mechs. Their retreat was short-lived.

One evening, a month into the campaign we received a call from a Corvan Regular group that was approaching a downed Sjurani vessel. The ship was surrounded by the Ebuntun and they were using a heavy weapon unfamiliar to the Corvan Regulars. The shield arrays on the Sjurani vessel were working but it was estimated they would have only six hours before their shields failed. The Force Commander requested heavy mech support along with the Mechanized Assault tanks because the initial stealth foray using two Revenants did not go well. The Revenants did not die, but were gravely injured and temporarily removed from the battlefield.

It was decided, with a heavy barrage of tank fire as well as a lightning strike of heavy mechs, we could take down the remaining five projector towers. One tower had been destroyed by the earlier team. Each tower was in line of sight of the others, as the Sjurani ship was half buried after its crash. As we suited up we were given a special directive by the Fleet Commander, whose order superseded any other authority on the planet.

We were to rescue that flagship and see that the crew and any survivors are to be evacuated to the Fleet Command ship. We indicated that we understood and would gather all survivors. The heavy assault was a success. Between the tank fire and the heavy mechs we were able to destroy the projector towers. We did try and capture the technology intact, but it simply cost us too many men. The weapon was unlike anything we had ever seen. Once the beam struck an unshielded target, the target simply stopped moving as if frozen, ice formed on the shell and within minutes, the target crumpled to dust. It was as if, all of the energy from the target had been stolen away, down to atomic structure. We could no longer risk losing men and destroyed the weapons. But neither of us had ever seen anything like that before.

Once we drove the Ebuntun away, we surrounded the ship and got inside. The ship was already infested with the Ebuntun and they were trying to take key sections of the ship but the Sjurani had managed to hold those areas, including the engineering area where the shield management had taken place. Approximately one third of the crew was dead or injured, the rest were intact and defended their ship admirably.

Then, all at once, things went to hell. The soldiers outside had set up picket stations, which included tanks and their support teams, pulse turrets, mortars and mecha beam platforms. The Ebuntun had returned but this time, there were thousands more than earlier. Whatever they wanted, they intended to get. We killed them by the score. We used our beam lasers until the focusing crystals shattered and overheated. We shot pulse rifles until we ran out of ammunition, dropped multiple warhead mortars and they still kept coming. We eventually were forced to go to hand to hand and everyone pitched in. The battle lasted hours.

When we found the Sjurani prince, he was talking to a group of younger Sjurani who were wearing the finest battle-armors and weapons money could buy. They were surrounded by a group of older, very scarred, very frightening looking Sjurani with a variety of ancient ceramic weapons with mono-molecular edges. They glistened with the unstable monomolecular matter used to cleave apart any matter this weapon touched. We indicated that Thomas and I were the Prince's escorts. His name was Silver Death-Singer and these were his clutch, they were on their first mission and eager for combat. We let him know we had an avenue set up for escape and our troopers were keeping it secure. We moved through the ship and as we exited we realized our lines were not holding. The Force Commander had initiated several planetary bombardments to push the Ebuntun back, and had begun dropping weapons and ammo onto the scene. The heavy mechs were supporting the Corvan Regulars and tanks and were barely keeping the enemy at bay. The flanks were collapsing so we needed to get the prince out of there.

There was a heavy tank transport ready a thousand meters from the ship and we were meeting only minimal resistance until a heavy contingent of the Ebuntun erupted from the ground beneath us. Thomas was confronted with a creature of immense size and speed and it grabbed him with its heavy front pincers. The rest of us were swarmed by smaller creatures about the size of a fist. The grabbed on to us and overwhelmed us with their armored weight. The older Sjurani and the heavy mech soldiers, used flamethrowers to clear the creatures but they just kept up their assault. Once I was able to get back into the air, I gave Thomas cover and the two of us dealt with the heaviest creatures allowing the Prince's Sjurani Escort to handle ground bound enemies.

Within fifteen meters of the personnel tank, corrosive explosions landed amidst the escort and everyone was wounded as our armors were being eaten away. Only the Resurrection Frame was unaffected. In the confusion, two of the Prince's brood were picked off and dragged away underground. Thomas leapt after them and followed them into an underground series of tunnels that covered the entire area. That was how they were retreating and recovering during the battle. He was gone for several minutes. We had our hands busy just covering that last bit of ground to the armored personnel carrier. As we got to the tank we were surrounded and the Force Commander had called for a measured withdrawal. We got the prince into the tank along with his surviving son. Thomas had not returned so we assumed he had been overcome by some of the larger beetle-like Ebuntun that had attacked him successfully earlier.

We started driving away and Thomas came bounding out of the burrows with a horde right behind him. He was carrying the younger daughter, but the oldest son was not with him. He managed to fight his way to the tank, electro-blasters, and flechette darts cutting through the remaining Ebuntun and ran alongside the tank until we could safely stop. We provided cover and he kept pace with the tank. He explained to the Prince that his son was likely still alive, they seemed to be making an effort to not injury him, he simply could not reach him through the crush of bodies. The Prince seemed unhappy with this news but was pleased to have his daughter returned to him. When we reached our base, the Prince indicated he would be staying on the planet in an effort to find his son and would be interested in working with the Heavy Division and adding his own Heavy Troopers to the squad.

We worked this campaign for three years. We eventually drove the Ebuntun off the planet and returned it to the Corvan and Subaki colonists. The Subaki had been under the leadership of a Praetor Wex, who helped us several times during that campaign. We were appropriately rewarded but were never able to find the Prince's son. For saving the Prince's other children, Thomas and I were given the Sjurani Prince's personal gunship, Travelling Light, a custom-designed ship purchased from the Bel-ha homeworld. The Prince hired us to work for him on a variety of missions for the next sixteen years. We travelled the length and breadth of the Imperium working missions for the Sjurani on a number of their colony worlds, sometimes covertly, other time with the Pax Sjurani, a special peacekeeping force, on missions vital to Sjurani security. The prince retired after a particularly terrible mission. If he wants to tell it, I will let him.

She looked at Essver fondly and continued her tale.

The Major and I continued working together and did so until two years ago, when he was sent on a mission, but I was unavailable. I was working on a paper discussing the current Image erasure protocols. At the time, I was promoting research that indicated a potential for development for the AI Complexes that work with the Resurrection Frame AI and the neural network of the Soldier. The current process erased images as soon as they developed anything that resembled independence or began to register on the sentience scale. This was to prevent the occurrence of rogue AI. I protested this due to built-in safety protocols already designed into the software. I felt true intellectual development might create a tool or support device of far greater utility than the current dependent AI Complex.

My paper was heard, and subsequently ignored. No policy changes have taken place since my last dissertation, but since I have made several major changes to the policies of AI in the Triune Government and Ministries of Conscientia Sciences, I am confident I will be able to make change over time. I will use the behavior of the Major's last image as a potential indicator of what free willed Complexes might be capable of.

She was standing over Essver and checking his vitals. They were slow and steady and his injuries would leave him stiff and cranky but alive. She would work on him after she checked the Major's biomechanical systems.

"Biyu, do you have an actual military rank?" Chuntra had listened closely and intently and was trying to decide if she would ask her next questions. While she was swimming, the Ship introduced a variety of foods into her bubble. Each was authentic tasting and quite delicious. Some were even quite swift. She decided not to ask how the food was created or made ambulatory. She noted the colors of some of the fish appeared to be as true to the foods she had eaten on Lolikai's Command Cruiser.

Biyu had sat down near the Major and extended several other tendrils which plugged into other ports across his body. "I do not have a military rank as such. In any operations with the military, however, I am treated as having an army rank of Captain."

"I have worked with only a few dozen Humans, and I find them to be a strange species. Don't they resent your manufactured nature? Most Humans I have worked with have had little love for any form of mechanized life."

"My experiences with the military offers me a slightly different group of Humans to work with. Most military people accept the idea that machines make it possible for Humanity to compete in a Universe with a variety of creatures, stronger, faster, and in some cases, so much smarter than the members of Pan-humanity. In most cases, they may reluctantly accept my machine nature as a tool to give them opportunities they would otherwise not have access to." Her voice seemed a bit distant as she stared at the Major.

"I have to admit to having very little experience with uh, um, what do you prefer to be called? Mechanical sentients? Artificial intelligence?"

"The term used technically is 'mechanized sentience' or 'non-human sentience.' When housed in an android or synthezoid body, we use the term 'Conscientia' from the Latin, a dead human language, from which many scientific ideas are standardized, for 'consciousness'."

"Thank you for talking with me about this. Does working with the Resurrection Corp have any other advantages for the Conscientia?" Chuntra was starting to warm to Biyu and was feeling less self-conscious.

"Being a Captain allows me to effectively work with most military officers without too much rancor. I have created a variety of weapons, armor and other medical technology since I have been assigned to the Corps so I do have a reputation for being a supporter of military troops. Most are happy to work with me once they find out who I am. I have created my own line of non-powered light ceramic armor using a new mesh construction making them lighter and tougher than the previous Corvan designs. I also created a fully-automatic recoilless heavy pulse pistol design favored by many of the Resurrection troopers, called Biyu's Best."

Biyu was checking the burns and scale damage of Essver. Several of the burns had penetrated both layers of his outer scales. Reaching up, she grabs a regenerator and it emits a purple radiation that begins to slowly repair the cellular damage. The primary benefit of the purple radiation was its ability to speed healing and prevent infection. Once his inner tissues were repaired, the purple ray would enhance the growth of his outer scales, which normally took some time to be replaced naturally.

"You seem to have some level of celebrity amongst the soldiers. Fascinating."

"I have been to over twenty campaigns and as many insertion operations. My military experience rivals most experienced military officers." She paused for a second and made some adjustments to the Major's sleep monitoring systems. "I am more often called Doctor, since I have three medical degrees and two scientific doctorates as well. My preferred title is Pilot, since that is the work, I value the most, because it gives me time with the man I value the most."

"Biyu," Chuntra had begun to turn darker colors, a Corvan indicator of embarrassment. "I understand you have more than some basic affection for the Major. He is a human and you are not. Does that factor into your relationship at all?"

She stops working for a moment, then replies: "To be honest, sometimes. He is very human and despite my appearance and full physical functionality, to him, our relationship is still something less than desirable. And to complicate matters, the AI within the Frame is also female in nature, and somewhat possessive. The poor man is surrounded by numerous women, but none of them are human, all are sentient, and all love him deeply. I think he resents it because despite our sentience, he feels less capable than any or all of us. He is dependent on machines to live, and dependent on all of us in one form or another. Ship to move him, house him, protect him from his enemies, dependent on me to fly the ship, maintain his health, his sanity and sometimes remind him of his humanity, and the Frame has the most difficult job of all, keeping him alive or returning him to life if he is killed. It is no wonder he wants very little to do with us sometimes. We control his entire existence.

"There was a woman on the planet."

"We know. There were chemical traces on him when he returned to the ship. We don't think about it much because he also seems to understand that being with Human women is always temporary with him. He travels too much and his life is far too dangerous for anyone who cannot protect themselves from this life."

"What if he has feelings for this female?"

"What of it? He is a human nearly a century in age. And if we do our jobs right, he could live as long as we could. Ship has a expected lifespan of six hundred years or more. The Frame is based on a technology with a lifespan in excess of one thousand years, and I will function baring being blown to bits or destroyed in a crash, at least four hundred years." Biyu turned toward the Corvan and looked at her. Chuntra noted her peculiarly colored irises, remembering she had never seen a human with purple eyes before now. "We worry about his humanity and what he will be like after two or three centuries. We do not worry about human females, because they keep him connected to his humanity in ways we, even with psychographic manipulations, virtual realities, and hard light holograms, cannot. We love him, but we do not own him. He has always returned to us."

"Biyu? You keep saying us? Who is talking?"

"Sorry, sometimes the ship and I will share a consciousness when we are together. If it would be easier, she can manifest a hard light hologram instead."

"Uh, no. I think I am okay with it this way. Is there anything else I should know about you?"

"Child, I am nearly a hundred years old as well. There is plenty for us to talk about during the next five days. And we will have at least a week or two before the Ship can be completely repaired. We have plenty of time to get to know each other. I understand you are young by Corvan norms. Your records indicate you are only about 35 standard years. Very young to be a diplomat."

Chuntra began, "I came into the diplomatic Corps because my fathers were diplomats and I could not see myself, staying at home as a scientist on Shai, where I was born. Shai was near the other edge of the Empire and had numerous interactions with unaffiliated aliens. I was fascinated by them when my fathers would bring them home and discuss politics. I knew there was no other life for me and I studied hard from that point onward."

Chuntra had begun to settle into the organic coral construction that was slowly being built in the corner of her floating habitat. The field was slowly being extended allowing more water to be added to the area, essentially filling the entire movable area of the command bay. The expanded water field was slowly being manipulated to include other organic matter constructed by nano-particles also suspended within the water.

"We can maintain this environment for you behind a hard light force wall on the bridge. I can also extrude a control interface within to allow you privacy and access to ships services. In case of emergency, the HL field will be maintained with the structural integrity fields. I can also make sure your suit is within the field, just in case." The Ship's voice resonated inside the water field but was perfectly modulated so that it barely tickled her cochlear chamber.

"Thank you, Ship, I appreciate all that you have done for me. Will I be able to stay near Master Wex?"

"The control globe being dropped will allow you to manipulate the field to be where you want it." A slivered globe with control studs in a Corvan configuration, usable with the Corvan gripping arms floated into the watery bubble.

Chuntra played with the sphere for a moment and recognized the interface as a water environment manipulator, standard on Corvan battleships. She moved the field closer to Master Wex and floated over him. His face was contorted, as if in pain. She reached out of the water sphere and touched him, smoothing water onto his facial quills. His face lost some of the tension and he seemed to ease into a more restful sleep. A few minutes later, she too fell into a silent repose.

Biyu smiled, recognized that touch and turned away to finish her diagnostics. "Goodnight, Chuntra. Sleep well."

I was late for my sensitivity training class, two weeks after I joined a new company. It had been a while since I'd worked and was simply grateful to have a job.

I went to Human Resources to complain about the guy in the next cubicle who, even though he had been at the company for a while, he still had not grasped the idea of personal hygiene. The smell wafting from his cubicle was a mixture of homeless Vietnam vet and unwashed train-hopping hobo.

With state water rationing preventing all but the most necessary water use, at a premium price, no less, I could understand a little body odor. We all have that problem these days, but there is still a line no one working in the public should cross.

The smell got so bad one day, I had to sneak into the AC closet and turn off the air conditioning because the vent blew the stench up from his cube and down to mine. I had to give him credit, the guy always seemed to put in a twelve to fourteen hour day, so there were no complaints about his dedication.

I hadn't had a job in two years, so I wasn't about to give this one up. I had no idea when the next one might come calling. Corporate work was drying up everywhere, being shipped overseas for slave wages, sent to the 'cloud' or 'double-booked' on some poor bastard who thought he was lucky to still have a job. Today, I was prepared to be that poor bastard.

When I went to HR and complained, I was told that I was insensitive to 'Tod's special needs' and that he had a medical accommodation for his issues. So I was sent to a sensitivity training course in order to improve my awareness of his situation. Starting my ninety-day probation off with a human resources sensitivity class. Way to make a good first impression.

The only upside to this situation was the opportunity to pass a tiny bit of heaven working the desk downstairs outside of HR. Her name badge said Penny. "Hey, Penny. Which way to the sensitivity training?" I was trying to sound cool and only semi-interested. The truth was, I had been dreaming about this girl since I got here. I had only seen her once or twice, but her flame red hair, ample bosom and well-dressed derrière were hard to miss. Only a dead man couldn't find her interesting.

"Hey, Dave. It's down the hall, turn left, second door on the right. I like your tie, something new?" she inquired. I did my best to not stare down her blouse. Meaning I had a minor seizure, my eyes rolled into my head and then I pulled it together.

She noticed! "Yes it is. My nephew gave it to me as a graduation gift a few months ago, but I wanted to save it for a rainy day. Since we don't seem to have those any more, I figured I am going to this class after only a month of working here, so I guess this will do."

"You look great, don't worry about it. There has been a lot of training going on here with the recent acquisition. I'm sure its not a problem. They say this position has gone empty a couple of times a month as they hire new girls for positions upstairs. I am hoping to graduate to one of those jobs, too."

As I listened, I was simply lost in her shiny green eyes and I could barely tear myself away from her lips. Her magnificiently supple lips… "Dave? Dave, you're gonna be late."

"Right, right, thanks. I'll talk to you later," I stammered and ran off.

When I got to the classroom, I walked in and noticed the room was lit with a bright green glow from the ceiling instead of the florescent lighting used in most of the company.

"Glad you could make it, Dave. You're the last one, today." The speaker was a tall, squarely built Black man with a set of thick, but well groomed dreadlocks. His face was sharp and angular, and he had a penetrating stare that fixed on me for a long second. Then he lidded his eyes like a serpent might, it was just the angle of his head that shifted and for a moment I felt like a mouse confronting a snake.

He came to meet me at the door and shook my hand. He smelled of cinnamon and other spices like a pumpkin pie. The smell made me want to sneeze and before I knew what happened, I turned away, covered my nose and sneezed, really hard. He had not let go of my hand yet and when I sneezed, his grip on me tightened and he breathed out a subtle, whispering sigh. He then let my hand go and turned back toward the room. He had a huge smile on his face and his teeth gleamed in the green light.

The strange lighting in the room which at first seemed a little too green and a little too bright, seemed less of a problem after I opened my eyes from my very juicy and uncomfortable sneeze. I found my handkerchief, cleaned myself up and sat down to read through the boring pamphlets about social tolerance and cultural acceptance.

The speaker, one Dr. Mbenga wore a mixture of modern clothing and some kind of tribal acccents. His shirt was long sleeved but of a dark fabric, I couldn't place. There was a long colorful sash he wore over one shoulder which drapped nearly to the floor. He moved around the room with a smooth gate and a stylish flourish while he lectured. His shoes appeared to be made of leather but had an unusual grass-like sole. He seemed a decent fellow, but his accent was so thick sometimes, I could barely understand him. This only added to the surreal never-ending quality of our first lecture with him.

This first day, the training was done in the evening and after two hours, we were allowed to go home. He mentioned we would have some exercises the next two days and the last day was an all day session. A sigh eminated collectively from the participants as the realization of the last day being the longest. We filed out like men condemned to a firing squad, heads hung low, backs bowed. Penny was already gone, but the smell of her perfume lingered and stood out over the BO of whichever of my unwashed colleagues had left after she did.

When I got home, my cat and dog were thrilled to see me, and after taking Max, my German Shepard, for a walk, Mini, my Maine Coon curled up in my lap for another great evening of TV dinners and Law and Order. I was kind of peckish though and had another TV dinner and a pint of Ben and Jerry's afterward. Before I went to sleep, I saw a stock report on the news about a relatively new company providing green lighting to businesses. This new lighting could store energy from the sun and transmit it inside of buildings, for no costs. Rancol Incorporated had just split its stock, making its shareholders even richer. The only drawback was its slightly greenish tint that workers said they hardly noticed after a time. The age of florescent light appeared to be at an end. I thought I should get some stock in this company. I would call my broker in the morning.

My sleep was rough and uneven. I had the strangest dreams as well. Something to do with eating some food that I was not particularly fond of but my father kept telling me to eat it. He was the law when I was a kid, so ate it I did. I remember fighting the food down, nearly gagging on every bite. I just remember shoveling one mouthful after another until it was gone. Then to punish me futher, he would have me clean up after dinner and my dream completed our ritual. It felt like hours, but my rest seemed to have only been a few seconds. I woke exhausted and in a cold sweat but a hot shower soon fixed that.

I took Max for his morning walk but he seemed skittish and unhappy and when I came back and filled Mini's dish he did not come running. Maine Coons take meal time very seriously. Something about needing to maintain that bulk being one of the biggest housecats known to man. I figured he was under the bed or hiding in a closet, as is his habit some mornings. I simply didn't have time to deal with him. Mini understood if he didn't eat in time, Max would have two breakfasts that morning.

I rushed to get dressed because I knew I was going to have to deal with doing my job and another half day of sensitivity training, so I knew I needed to be on time. Before I could even finish getting dressed, I was racked with abdominal pain like I had known only once. As a kid my appendix ruptured during a football game. All I remember was the screaming and the white-hot poker tearing through my side. This was worse than that. Through all the pain was the urge to go to the bathroom.

There are no words for happened next. I kept flushing and filling the bowl. Only after the fourth flush did the stabbing pain subside. When I looked in the bowl, there was blood everywhere. But the pain subsided almost as if it never happened. I took a shower, cleaned up. I got ready to call a doctor but by the time I was dressed, for the second time, I felt great and except for my missing cat and the queer looks from the old couple next door, I had never felt so energized. I threw away all of the remaining TV dinners from my fridge. Never eating another one of those things ever again.

The next day of sensitivity training had half as many people as the day before. We started with ten and were down to five. When I asked what happened to the others Dr. Mbenga gave me some smooth and plausible sounding answer and though I thought I wanted to argue, once he had said it, the urge to argue passed. Today, I had less difficulty understanding him, he seemed to be making a greater effort to enunciate. Perhaps someone had talked to HR and told him to speak slower and clearer. I was bored out of my mind by lunch and though we were told these exercises were important, I could barely see why. He had drawn a number of formulas on the board, something about statistical variability and cultural dispersion on the planet, blah, blah, blah. Lunch could not come soon enough.

"Hi, Penny," I was so happy to be anywhere besides that room.

"Hi Dave," was her morose reply. My goddess of cheer and sunshine was less than happy. This could not be.

"What's the matter? my curiosity overcoming my good sense.

"I am getting a transfer tomorrow. I will be going upstairs."

"Uh, I thought you would be happy, isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, but I..." she stuttered. "I was hoping I would get to see you before I went upstairs. They said I would be leaving here first thing in the morning, so I have to pack up this afternoon."

"Do you want to have lunch?"

"Yes," was her timid reply. But I was on top of the world.

"Let me do one more thing. See that exec over there, the one with the red tie clip? I was typing something for him and I want to make sure he gets it."

As the executive was moving down the hallway, most of the workers shied away from him, making every effort not to look at him and shuffled off as quickly as possible. Penny handed him the sheaf of papers, and he gave her a completely lecherous stare. His eyes all but undressed her, folded her clothing and proceeded to tie her to his office chair. Sensitivity training? Here was a guy who obviously had not been invited yet. As he grew closer, I felt a bit sick, but Penny ran ahead of him and grabbed my arm on the way out.

Needless to say, lunch was great. It was Penny's favorite restaurant so I would have eaten there no matter how I felt. I thought I wasn't going to have much of an appetite after this morning but by lunchtime, I'd changed my mind about eating. Under normal circumstances this place would have made me just shy of nauseous but today I was a beast. I ate a steak sandwich, slathered in onions and cheese and whatever other sundries they could pile on top. Then I ate two more. Penny had a healthy appetite, a hearty laugh and we enjoyed lunch like two old friends who hadn't seen each other in ages; and had starved the whole time. Outside the office, our mutual awkwardness was gone. We rushed back to the office and she ran back to her desk but she gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. I covered my excitement with my briefcase until I could make it back to my seat.

There was more boring lecturing around social sensitivity to the disabled but I was listening more intently to Dr. Mbenga's voice. There was a transcendental quality to it, as if he was speaking directly to my soul. While what he was talking about had no substance, or perhaps I just didn't give a damn, the sound of it moved me, choked me up and I every word was sheer rapture. The rest of the afternoon sped by.

Penny was gone again when I was leaving but it was less traumatizing than yesterday. I had been able to spend a whole hour with her at lunch. Magnificent. I had to stop to get something to eat on the way home and I stopped into this dive, a place I normally can't even stand the smell of normally but I was just so damn hungry. I don't remember anything about the food other than the quantity of it. It seemed as if I could not get enough. There was something on the news about some outbreak, probably a flu or something. I couldn't concentrate on it so I quickly finished and rushed home.

When I got there, Max was positively ballistic. It took me twenty minutes to calm him down enough to get him on his leash. He ran around the apartment, jumping away from me as if he didn't recognize me. I wasn't feeling all that well, so this whole meltdown was the last thing I wanted to be bothered with. I was certain I was running a bit of a fever and wondered if I had overdone lunch and dinner. I was beginning to think maybe a call to a doctor might not be a bad idea. I sat down hoping it would give Max some time to calm down. After an hour, I felt like I might be able to complete a walk. Max had come and lay down next to me, eyeing me as if I was someone he wasn't sure he knew. I moved gingerly and gathered his leash and then led him to the door.

Once we got outside the building, he pulled at the leash as if he were trying to get away. I pulled back and tried to shorten the leash. As I gathered it, I took my eye off of him. In that moment, he bit my hand and ran away, faster than I had ever seen him run. I took off after him but after only a few seconds realized he was a dog and I was never going to catch him. I went in and bandaged my hand.

I am a bit of a wimp when it comes to alcohol application during any kind of personal first aid. Strangely enough, though the initial bite was painful, the alcohol didn't bother me at all. WebMD said I should see a doctor, in case of rabies, but I figured since Max was my dog, rabies wasn't likely, with him having had all of his shots. Surely it could wait until tomorrow after work.

The next morning I felt positively awful. I was sluggish and sick and thought I might be hung over, until I remembered, I had not had a drop to drink. Then I thought, it's that flu. Suddenly I was overcome with the urge to vomit and before I could take a step, I did, everywhere. It seemed like it would never stop, but finally it did. I went to the phone to call in and tell them I wasn't coming to work, but they put me on hold.

It felt as if my world was covered in a fog, the entire room was blurred, hazy, and indistinct. The room smelled atrocious, like someone had died right in my house. As the scent registered to my brainstem, I almost dropped the phone.

Dr. Mbenga's voice cut through the fog and fuzz in my head as clear as the first sunrise after a six month Alaskan night. "Clean up dat mess, take a shower, put on some clean clothes, and bring a change of clothes with you in your gym bag. Bring your ass to work."

And just like that, I was able to clean up the vomit, shine the floors, iron a shirt and slacks, pack a gym bag and head off to work in record time. Halfway to work, the energy faded and I felt myself slowing down. Puking up one's guts is likely to be hard work so, maybe that why I was suddenly wasted. The train ride seemed interminable, every second stretching off into infinity.

I realized I was at the halfway point before I started feeling better. Suddenly I was hungry. Normally, riding the subway was a total appetite killer, the crowds, the noise, the stench, but today all I could smell was pork chops. My stop came and I got off the train and went upstairs into our office building. I kept smelling pork chops all the way into the building. I figured there was someone who worked in my office who was bringing in their chops from last night's dinner. Lucky bastard, they smelled outstanding.

When I got upstairs to the meeting hall, the good doctor Mbenga escorted me to a smaller conference room on the same floor. Sadly Penny was nowhere to be found. I missed her already. He took me into the conference room and sat me down. His outfit was his traditional Black, with a white sash around his waist. He wore a silver ring with a large skull, each eye filled with modest-sized diamonds. I had never noticed it before. "Wait here, someone will be here shortly," his voice, I could easily liken it unto a heavenly choir, reverberated within me and I could nothing but obey. I sat. He placed his hand upon my head and I felt myself fall into a deep slumber.

When I woke, I knew a hunger unlike anything I had ever felt before. Hours passed, each one more excruciating then the last. I looked up and noticed the Roncol light was on and it had been very bright. It was so bright, how could I have missed it until now. Then I realized why I hadn't been aware of it. It was getting dimmer. The softer the light grew, the stronger my hunger became.

I called out. I shook the doorknob. I banged on the door. No one came. The hours passed. By the fourth hour, I had turned over the chairs. I used them to bang on the doors. I could barely make sense of what was happening. Imagine your favorite piece of music turned to the highest volume you could stand. And then double it. This was my hunger. I screamed myself hoarse. No one came.

I threw myself at the door, again and again. My body, now bloody smacked wetly against it. My pain momentarily overcame my hunger.

I sat down in a corner and waited. I rocked back and forth, my movement had become the heartbeat I could no longer feel in my chest. Then I heard the click of a key. I wanted to rise and did so with a snarl, the remnant of my voice. A light seared its way into my febrile brain and along with it a primal wave of fear, a desire to be anywhere in that moment but there. In the silhouette of the terrible light was a female shape but it was a man I heard.

"Wait here, Penny," said the voice of the lecherous executive from yesterday, and the light, that terrible light, I had to shield my eyes -- came from his tie clip. I wanted desperately to claw my way through the wall to escape.

"It stinks in here," was her reply.

She was pushed into the room and the door closed behind her. With the lights out and the terrible glare from his tie-clip gone, I could almost think again. But I was hungry. Maddeningly hungry, crazed with hunger. Pork, pork, pork, it's all I could think about. Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop. Penny heard me groan, and came toward me.

I knew what would make the hunger stop.

"Dave, is that you?"

"Yes, Penny. And you smell so, so... good."

Thaddeus Howze © 2010, All Rights Reserved