Chapter 3

THREE

THE MYSTERIOUS PR. KENNER

I

The next day was a cold wet gloomy Thursday evening of early March. Willowdene University Main Square was empty but for a few unlucky students that had to suffer the ruthless weather. They rushed into nearby bars or took cover wherever they could after struggling across the great expanse of the Square. Some shook the rain from their hair, others simply removed soaking wet hats and scarves. Only a tallish young man with thick brown hair and slouching shoulders was still outside striding past the now deserted Main Square. It was quarter to five and the sun had all but vanished from view. Alexander had lost patience and was definitely in a bad mood. But it wasn’t just the rain.
‘I’m cursed, I can’t explain it otherwise. Yesterday we nearly had our bodies blown to bits, today it’s the bloody rain… Why is Main Square so long?’
Alexander was soaked to the skin and he could feel drops of rain trickling down his neck even though he had pulled his jacket collar up and was holding it tight. A sudden deafening peal of thunder made him jump. The Square was momentarily lit up by lightning and Alexander caught sight of a figure a short distance ahead of him. He screwed up his eyes but could not see clearly through the rain. It seemed to be someone hunched up, looking for something on the wet paving stones of the square.
Funny, thought Alexander. Quasimodo type.
As Alexander got near, the figure twisted his head round to look up at him. Alexander’s heart stopped. The face was horribly disfigured with what seemed to be the scars of terrible burns. Eyes too big for the face focused vacantly on Alexander and the lips were moving in some sort of monologue. His clothes were filthy rags, torn in a dozen places. And a stench reached Alexander’s nostrils, bad enough to make him hold back.
Shit! Ugly as hell and that smell, humph! Hasn’t had a shower in years! thought Alexander and shuddered. He tried to reroute but the hunchback shot out a claw-like hand and grabbed hold of Alexander’s arm, holding it like a vice. The beggar thrust his repulsive face close to Alexander’s. His breath stank like something rotten.
‘He’s waiting for you. Polaris.’
‘What?’ Alexander said taking a step back. Unpleasant chilly gusts of wind swept rain onto Alexander’s face but he was unable to move from the spot.
All of a sudden, a fork of white fire tore through the sky. The mad scarecrow of a man shifted his gaze to the dark sky and touched his face with his fingertips. Alexander thought he looked just like an ape, with his head at an angle, body hunched over. Then, in a flash, the man turned and ran away, vanishing from view into the wet mist. The young Greek looked around him nervously. He was alone in the square.
Whatever, thought Alexander, shivering from cold or… something else. Another peal of thunder made him wonder if the man had perhaps been struck by lightning at some time. Still uneasy with yesterday’s terrorist memory, Alexander left the square and trudged on in the direction of Dr. Banshin’s rooms. He was curious about the ragged man but didn’t want to jinx his good luck any further than he had to. It was fortunate enough that the eccentric virus had abandoned its apocalyptic plans for destruction.
Then he grunted with disgust. His jacket was useless now. Raindrops spattered on his head hitting him like tiny hammers. His thoughts now raced ahead to the much-expected meeting with Dr. Banshin, an unsolved mystery in itself. Alexander plodded on, his mood lifting as he reached the History Department’s automatic doors.

II

A strange quietness had settled in the Fat Lady today, as was the case with the rest of the Main Campus. A veil of fear still lingered and, despite the reassurances of anti-terrorist officials about the safety of Willowdene, many chose to ignore this part of the campus. Who could blame them if all they wanted was to live? The few who dared to cross the rainy Main Square did so without slowing down. But there were some who defied the universe and its generosity to spare Willowdene from a cyber-terrorist virus. One in particular sat on his own at the Fat Lady pub and savoured his drink.
Theo Kemal wasn’t afraid of death, at least not any more. He used to be, when he was younger. He had grown up in fear back in Turkey, and had spent most of his childhood fighting bullies at school and in the streets. His parents were wealthy and that had always been his curse. Older kids would follow him around at school, steal his money and beat him every time he resisted. Theo was a crap fighter but some good had come out of it. He was no longer afraid of bullies and this Black Talon program was just another pest, nothing more.
‘Hello there.’ Theo was too absorbed in his thoughts, he never heard the other one coming. It was the person he was supposed to meet.
‘Aristo, right?’ Theo asked and the short fellow with the spiky red hair nodded and sat down.
‘I’m sorry for bringing you here on a day like this, Theo but my schedule won’t allow any deviations. Whew! It’s so nice and warm here. The weather outside sucks. Everything’s wet and cold!’ Theo shrugged. He didn’t think much of this short unimpressive guy.
‘It’s good then you weren’t here yesterday’ he replied with a chuckle. ‘The hostages from yesterday, they wouldn’t be anywhere near this place now. I know I wouldn’t!’
‘I was here yesterday actually.’ Theo looked at him as if he were an alien. ‘I… survived and now, there is business to be done, so…’
‘Okay… sure’ Theo answered, awed. His whole outlook of Aristo had changed at once.
‘I need to ask you something Theo, something I ask all my clients before we proceed.’ He fixed the young Turk with small bright eyes. ‘What is your dream, Theo?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘All people have dreams! Some want to be rich! Don’t you have any?’
‘Of course’ Theo snapped. Then a little uneasily ‘it’s not money that I need. I…’ he hesitated and looked at his drink thoughtfully. Aristo laid a friendly hand on his shoulder.
‘Our dreams, our deepest hopes; not easy to bring them out to a stranger. But believe me Theo, I’m only here to help you. If you need a new life, then perhaps I can give it to you. My organisation has saved many people that way.’ Theo however shook his head.
‘No… you don’t understand. I keep no dreams for myself, no ambitions! I want to help those who are harassed by others simply because they’re too weak to defend themselves!’ Aristo smiled warmly but there was disappointment in his spectacled eyes.
‘Surely there must be something you want for yourself!’
‘No. I went through hell when I was a kid. I don’t want others to suffer the same. No, all the dreams in the world cannot help me. Perhaps you could make me very rich and powerful as you say though I wouldn’t like to end up like my parents while others are still bullied.’
‘But you can’t save everybody, Theo! Things are very hard out in the real world. Here is a chance for you to move on, acquire assets before others do!’ But Theo had made up his mind. He got up.
‘I have a destiny my friend. I cannot abandon those who need help. Otherwise, we are no longer human. I’m sorry. Good day.’ Aristo watched him leave and sighed. The Union couldn’t afford any further losses now, not after the unexpected Orient strike. Morale was low and fresh recruitments were needed. The Orients were more successful in that aspect and Aristo suspected that Theo was already considering their offer. Like Wolf, Theo was a special case and the Occident Union had to capitalize its fair share of the spoils.

III

Once inside the History Department, Alexander headed straight for the office of Dr. Banshin. He knew the way of course, for he met his supervisor almost on a daily basis. Alexander had many dreams about the future but the strongest of them shone like a bright torch in his mind. He reached a long corridor whose walls were hung with images of the faculty’s former teaching staff. Alexander envied those people, their success, and the easy-going lifestyle they enjoyed. Hot steaming coffee every morning and lots of research in a snug office somewhere without being disturbed. That was the future Alexander sought; life in a protected environment and peace of mind.
At last he reached the familiar dark green door of his supervisor’s office and knocked. A clear youthful voice answered him almost immediately.
‘Yes? Come in.’
‘Hello Doctor, it’s me, Alexander. Sorry I was late, but the weather…’
‘Yes of course, I understand. Please sit down, I’ll only be a moment.’
Alexander went to a chair of soft leather and sat down. He had been in Dr. Banshin’s office several times before of course for he was the supervisor of his research. The Doctor’s office was always littered with countless stacks of paper on the floor, the shelves and on his desk. There were also books of all kinds in huge piles in the corners of the room. The office was dark and gloomy; the sun’s rays never actually penetrated its small window. Fortunately, the walls were filled with framed photographs, a cheerful trace of colour in the room. The Doctor himself was a keen traveller of strange and exotic locations Alexander wasn’t entirely familiar with. The Doctor’s archaic though still trustworthy camera had captured breathtaking projections of fearsome volcanoes, exotic cities caught in a fiery sunset, pictures of endless meadows filled with blooming flowers of purple and blue; sites of ancient cities whose ruins still spoke of some magnificent beauty that was lost…
‘I think its time we left now’ Dr. Banshin said finally. ‘Your new supervisor is a kind man but I don’t imagine he enjoys waiting.’

IV

Aristo knocked on the door but there was no answer. He tried again but if anybody was inside, they didn’t want to be disturbed. But the Occident Union representative of Willowdene wasn’t a defeatist.
‘Wolf, it’s me, Aristo. We need to talk.’ Silence. ‘Look, I know you’re in there and I know you haven’t come out since yesterday. I called our CEO and she has drawn out a plan but we have to work together. Don’t shut me out like this.’ After a few moments of further silence, the door was unlocked. Aristo opened it and carefully stepped in.
The room was dark and the curtains were drawn. No light, no clean air had been allowed in for two days. There was heaviness in the atmosphere, a brooding fire of anger and desperation. Aristo saw Wolf seated in his chair and felt the Spartan’s fury.
‘Say what you’ve got to say then get the hell out!’
Aristo tried to calm him down.
‘Please Wolf, things are not as bad as they look…’ Wolf sprang from his seat like a fire dragon. Aristo froze in fear.
‘Yeah, that’s what all of you high-ranking Union crap doers keep saying. But it all falls down on our heads; the grunts, those who thought they could rebuild their lives!’ Aristo spotted a desk lamp in the dim light and turned it on.
‘Listen my friend I think I understand how it feels to not fit somewhere. You feel second-class, dumped, useless…’
The towering Spartan nodded nervously.
‘Yes and it was the first time things were going right for me! I received a personal message from our CEO, Aurora. Few like me ever receive such things from her! She appreciated my role in promoting the fortunes of the Union.’ Wolf balled his fists. ‘How could I not feel broken when I failed to protect all of this work?’
‘I’ve spoken with Aurora herself Wolf. She will not disband you from the Occident Union. There was nothing you could do anyway!’ But Wolf didn’t believe him.
‘No, there is definitely something I can do about these hackers! I don’t know what but I feel it inside me. It burns, but I can do it!’ Aristo swallowed nervously.
‘Sure but that’s not what Aurora has in mind. She wants you to do something for her and it is important that you do it.’ As if awoken from hibernation, Wolf listened intently to Aurora’s pla

V

Alexander and Dr. Banshin had already left the Department and were moving away from the Main Campus area, with its offices, student services, Amphitheatre Halls, libraries and recreation facilities. They were now heading for Eastern Campus. This side was not as densely built on as the rest of the University. It housed only a small number of student residences and a few research laboratories that were used by the Natural Sciences faculty.
Like the rest of Willowdene University, most of Eastern Campus was screened by a wood. There was a path that cut right through it, leading to the labs as well as to an old mansion, recently renovated and being used as tutors’ offices. The Professor’s study was there. They were now on the fringes of the forest. The harsh rainy weather, final gasps of a dying winter shortly to be replaced by a fresh smiling spring, pounded them mercilessly and joined forces with fierce gusts of wind that stung their faces. In contrast to Alexander, who was experiencing renewed discomfort at the elements, Dr. Banshin was at peace with the downpour from above and did not seem to be disturbed. They walked the rest of the way in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts.
At last they reached the mansion. Alexander had only been here once or twice, when he had been exploring the area with Wolf. He had noticed the mansion before but had never crossed its threshold. It was a simple two-storey design of a neoclassical style and articulated by a small Corinthian rhythm portico at the front. Dr. Banshin told him that the mansion had originally belonged to an old English aristocrat who had passed away several years before and donated the house to Willowdene. The house had been renovated by the University and used as offices that were reserved for the chosen ones, university teaching staff and scholars who desired a more solitary working environment. Pr. Kenner’s office was situated on the second floor. As they ascended the highly polished wooden staircase leading to Kenner’s office, Dr. Banshin laid a hand on Alexander’s shoulder.
‘Please don’t feel awkward with the Professor. He is a bit strange, but that’s only because he enjoys his privacy.’
Alexander merely nodded, allowing himself to be led up to the door of his new supervisor. The Doctor knocked on the door and after a few heartbeats, a muffled and slightly annoyed voice invited them in.
‘Come in, Doctor. Please have a seat… and you as well, young man.’
The Professor indicated two chairs identical to those in Dr. Banshin’s office. As they sat down, Alexander felt the man’s inquisitive eyes fixed on him, studying his every move. Such intense staring made Alexander uncomfortable and he felt as if the Professor wished to read his very innermost thoughts. Alexander in turn, examined the mysterious Professor. Kenner’s external appearance did not differ much from that of a typical university scholar but he barely approached the image Alexander had shaped in his mind of a short, bearded, intense elderly man sitting under a lampshade, his eyes lost in the pages of an enormous dusty book. Instead, the professor was quite tall, about Alexander’s height, skinny and bald with a pair of indistinct spectacles so unlike Dr. Banshin’s thick- framed ones. But it was his gaze that impressed Alexander the most; always on the alert, his steely eyes seemingly missed nothing.
Alexander felt almost disappointed, though the mystery and aura of his new supervisor had not entirely evaporated. He was also mystified by Kenner’s choice to be isolated, out here on the outskirts of Willowdene Campus. Pr. Kenner’s expression became thoughtful as his eyes fell upon Alexander again. One might think that the old man somehow knew him from before. The young Greek felt uneasy again and would certainly have asked the professor if he had had the necessary courage.
‘So, I presume Dr. Banshin has updated you on the situation?’ said Pr. Kenner as he leaned back on his seat. Alexander nodded.
‘I know it sounds a bit awkward to you, young man. Michael here has done a great job helping you reach the level you are now. So why all this rush and secrecy? Well, partly because people like me hate all campus bureaucratic nonsense. It would have been weeks before Michael left for Boston! Also, for reasons that are of no consequence to you Alexander and do not affect your studies here.’ Alexander said nothing but it was not shyness that kept him silent. There was strength in the professor, a balanced force of confidence and kindness one couldn’t disrupt easily. Something caught Alexander’s eye on the wall behind the professor.
It was a golden plaque with an inscription on it. Alexander couldn’t make out all the words but he discerned the name Orient Triumvirate, which was enough to shock him. What was going on here? He saw Kenner and Dr. Banshin watching him now intently. Suddenly, Kenner got up and moved to the window which overlooked part of Eastern Campus and its fabulous lawns. It had stopped raining and a strange silence settled over this part of Willowdene as if the cosmos itself waited for Kenner’s explanation.
‘There is something you should know, young Alexander’ the professor said ‘and it involves you, your friends and the reason why you were all sent to study here.’

VI

The study room grew silent but Kenner’s words still hung in the air.
‘I’m not sure I understand professor. Sent to study?’ Both Kenner and Banshin nodded.
‘Indeed’ the professor said. ‘You must know that you and the others, your friends, have had someone fund your studies here since year one, correct? What you don’t know is that the institution that did it was not some local grant-awarding club, but an international organisation.’
‘It was us, I mean the organisation we work for, the Orient Triumvirate’ added Dr. Banshin. But Alexander shook his head.
‘I don’t get it’ he replied. ‘What I understood yesterday was that Orion works for the Orients while Wolf for another group, the Occidents. The two groups aren’t very fond of each other. ’ Kenner walked back to his desk and sat down.
‘Yes, that’s true’ he retorted. ‘You see, these two organisations compete with each other not just here on Willowdene, but all over the world, for both are after the same prize.’
‘Which is?’ asked Alexander. Kenner pointed at Alexander with a bony finger.
‘You of course! Both organisations constantly need young members… Perhaps you too might consider working for the Triumvirate. The benefits they offer mean a great deal to young people.’ There was hesitation and nervousness in the professor’s voice. Alexander felt the old man was holding back something important connected to him.
‘Why would I want to work for these organisations’ Alexander wondered. ‘What is it that they do exactly?’
The professor leaned on his desk.
‘Let me put it this way. There are many theories as to what shape our world should take in the 21st century. Barring of course the scenario of World War III, some believe that humanity is becoming dependent on technology to such an extent that integration with machines will soon be inevitable. Many who believe that such a world is possible, even beautiful in this way belong to the Occident Union, a technocratic organisation dedicated to promoting the ideals of man-machine interface to the younger generations. The Occidents also think that the science of the new age can fulfil any dream that we have and soon, we may even achieve immortality!’ Alexander listened carefully to everything Kenner said. He was starting to like his new supervisor.
‘What about your people, the Orients?’
‘Yes. There are those who are wary of this new age, Alexander and for good reasons too. The biggest problem is the pace with which new technologies are being developed! Every day there is something new to learn, the latest miracle gadget that will change our lives. We are being overwhelmed by machines, Alexander, a world where mathematic principles, not matters of the heart, are important. The Triumvirate has a motto: “The future belongs to the past”.’
‘But we can’t ignore the fact that people’s lives are saved because of technology!’ said Alexander. Kenner shrugged.
‘True. But we also have to consider the price to pay. At this rate, in twenty years we will be more artificial than organic. Traditions and customs that once made sense to people are being discarded like trash! Institutions like the family; there are more divorces than marriages. Religions are rapidly fading away like echoes. Old rituals, ancient languages, even the love for one’s country, all are being washed away by the tide of technocracy. All in the name of efficiency and a lack of time. No Alexander. There are still those who believe in the human heart! We are fighting to save our world, young man. The Occidents are fighting to change it.’
‘So what does all that have to do with me and my friends?’
A bitter smile marked Kenner’s lips.
‘Alexander, you are the next generation! Millions just like you have to choose which way this will go. We can only hope you make the right choice.’

VII

Wolf was on his own again, alone in the darkness of his room. The curtains were still drawn, the stiffness in the air remained. But something was different this time. Aristo had come to the rescue after the devastating Orient strike. Wolf had thought he was finished with the Union, yet Aurora had brought him back and assigned him a new mandate. The Spartan should have been grateful, should somehow have expressed his gratitude. And yet he did not know whether to cry or laugh with his CEO’s new plan. Aristo’s words had been very specific.
‘Our mistress has instructed us to become the liaisons, the go-between for Orients and Occidents here on Willowdene. Aurora wants peace and she has every reason to believe that Diana, mistress of the Orients wants the same too. We must become the symbols of unity between the two sides, to approach and befriend Orion and those who were instructed to carry out the senseless attack. There must be harmony between Orients and Occidents, otherwise the cycle of pain and retribution will continue forever.’
Oh yeah, Aurora relied a lot on Aristo and now she wanted Wolf to assist him. Could the Spartan do it?
They’ve pulled our shorts down and now she wants us to thank them and… apologise for any inconvenience we may have caused! Man this whole thing is so freaky! I’m all alone now. A loud ringing noise broke Wolf’s thoughts. It was his cell phone.
‘Yes?’
‘Hello, Wolf. I don’t think you know me but I know many things about you. I believe I can help you my friend, and in a way you can help me too. My name is Lazarus and we need to talk.’

VIII

It was no longer raining but the troubled night sky above was still loaded with heavy storm clouds. The harsh wind too had subsided, though a cool breeze lingered in the atmosphere. The pungent scent of damp earth and grass filled the nostrils of the two men as they strolled back towards the main campus. They passed along the dark narrow corridor of trees, shadowy guardians and a vital part of the small forest that surrounded Willowdene University. Nothing here resembled the catatonic blizzard that had forced its way into Pr. Kenner’s office. Michael was the first to break the silence.
‘Well Alexander, what do you think of your new supervisor?’ The young Greek didn’t answer immediately.
‘I think he is a remarkable man’ he said finally. ‘He really believes in his role as Orient.’ Michael smiled in response.
‘But there is something I wanted to ask and I forgot. What do you know about yesterday’s attack against the Occident cyber network?’
Dr. Banshin lowered his head. Obviously it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. He sighed.
‘There was supposed to be some sort of understanding between the two sides, some peace deal. The Orients broke the deal though I believe that some hardliner cast of their leadership may have caused it. Neither Pr. Kenner nor I condone such activities.’
‘Tell me about it!’ said Alexander. ‘Wolf blamed Orion for the attack and he nearly killed him. He would have done it for real!’ ‘Yes I think I know why an Occident would do that. They fight to make their dreams come true. Being an Occident means you reject who you were and accept the new identity you build in a world of machines! Do you realise how important this is to them? And if Orion wounded Wolf’s pride in some way, then he made a mistake.’

Chapter 2

TWO

THE BLACK TALON

I

Willowdene University, UK

The campus was a microcosm of the whole world in Alexander’s eyes, a place of marvellous opportunities and unique diversity he could never hope to find back in his home country, Greece. Located in the picturesque southeast corner of the British Isles, Willowdene University housed thousands of students who aspired for a better future. Alexandros, or Alexander as his friends called him, was but a single digit in this busy academia. Tallish, fair-skinned with short honey-coloured hair and blue eyes, Alexander possessed all the physical characteristics that could define him as both Greek and Western European. In fact, he often felt out of place in the company of other Greeks when those who didn’t know him mistook him for a foreigner and talked to him in English. But that was a small problem. Life rolled on busily in the Willowdene community and Alexander, a postgraduate student of history, had become accustomed to its dynamic rhythms. Yet this bright but chilly Wednesday morning of early spring would present a far greater challenge for the young Greek than he could have conceived.
It was already past eleven when Alexander realised that his whole schedule had been screwed up. For starters his supervisor, Dr. Michael Banshin, had cancelled the 10 to 12 lecture at the amphitheatre room for reasons unknown. And even worse, he was being transferred to Boston, USA in order to continue his post-doctoral studies. There was no telling when he would be coming back. Alexander relied heavily on Dr. Banshin’s help. They had known each other for nearly two years and Alexander considered him a friend. His going away would not help the young Greek at all.
A sudden slap on the back and a booming voice broke Alexander’s thoughts.
‘ALEX! I’ve been looking all over for you, man. Join me for a drink?’
‘Jeez, you scared the hell out of me, Wolf!’ Alexander felt great arms squeeze him in an affectionate bear hug. The guy had an imposing physique. He was well over two meters with dark Mediterranean features and long wavy hair, blacker than a crow’s feathers. Wolf, 3rd generation immigrant of mixed Greek and Slavic origins was a teaser. At best, he loved playing tricks on others. But there were times when he crossed the line. There was no delicate way to put it. In those moments he was a nasty bully the size of a basketball player and heavily built from too much martial arts training. Simply put- Wolf was a pain in the butt. But it so happened that he had been attached to Alexander ever since their first registration at Willowdene more than three years ago. Alexander had never really understood the reasons why this giant bone crusher chose to hang around with him.
Perhaps Alexander was no threat to the tempestuous Spartan as he called Wolf when he wanted to patronise him. Alexander was simply the audience the Spartan needed to exert himself. Then again, Wolf did have a weakness: he felt terribly guilty about his mixed origins. For some cryptic reason of his, Wolf was envious of Alexander’s singularity though he never tried to show it.
‘Feels great to be stimulated, doesn’t it?’ Wolf said jokingly. ‘Keeps the blood flowing.’ Alexander shook his head.
‘Not me- my heart’s too weak! You’d have to carry me all the way to the Health Centre. And you know that nurse, Jessica, I think she has a crush on you. Remember last time we were there?’ Wolf’s teasing smile vanished. Alexander had never seen the Spartan afraid of anything.
‘What of her? She’s way too fat for my calibre. Besides, I think she’s retiring next month.’ Alexander had to keep himself from laughing.
‘So, you’re cheating on Jessica to go to that other Fat Lady, the campus bar, right? I guess I’ll join you.’ Wolf accepted defeat at the hands of the lesser foe and led the way.

II

The Fat Lady was crowded for the day as every Wednesday there was a special student offer- “Mid-week mid-price” as the bartender himself would say. The bar was the exact replica of a quaint 19th century English pub; everything fitted with good old creaking wood, a low beam ceiling, shelves and floor full of antiquities, whisky barrels, cart wheels, jars of spices, archaic heavy metal beer tankards, exploration maps, figures dressed in costumes of a bygone era, muskets, pistols, swords, daggers… an explorer’s paradise. The atmosphere in the bar was deliberately dark and mysterious. The light was dim and several corners were sunk in shadow, as the walls of gleaming timber reflected no light, while cigarette smoke added to the mystic feel of the place. To someone entering for the first time, it would seem as if the Fat Lady was a world frozen perpetually in time, disturbed only by laughing, shouting and drinking. It was everything a students’ bar should be.
A young woman with exquisitely slanted eyes sat alone, savouring her drink. She had smooth skin and short jet-black hair. Her name was Izanami and she was from Tokyo, Japan. Most mates and lovers however called her Izi and that’s how it stayed. Her gaze wandered dreamily around the place until she spotted the two figures walking towards her. She frowned.
‘Well, I don’t think it’s polite to have a lady waiting for you people all alone in a bar!’
‘Sorry Izi,’ Wolf said ‘but it took me so long to find Alex, daydreaming in the middle of Main Square.’ Alexander gasped indignantly.
‘I was not! I was rearranging my schedule now that Dr. Banshin has screwed everything up. Seriously, I never thought a supervisor could dump you like that!’
‘Well, shit happens and, guess what, academics are people too. If they decide to blow everything to protect their interests, they will do so.’ Izi nodded and sipped her drink.
‘You’ve got a point there, Wolf. Still, if he had to go, he had to go, right?’ Alexander leaned on the table.
‘Now, what was so urgent that you had to drag me in here, Wolf?’
The Spartan smiled wickedly.
‘This is where I’m supposed to meet my business associate!’
His friends eyed him ironically for a moment. Suddenly, a figure glided past their table. Alexander called after him.
‘Orion, wait! Orion!’ Wolf tried to stop his friend but it was too late. Orion turned around and approached them. He greeted both Alexander and Izi warmly but froze when he saw Wolf. The two of them glared at each other. They were like fire and ice.
Just then a new arrival interrupted the tense moment. He was just like a cartoon character that had stepped out of a comic book. He was short and thin, with spiky red hair, and gold-rimmed glasses. He had pale blue eyes and an unattractive freckled face. His small hands clutched a black folder tightly. When he spoke, it sounded like a broken clock.
‘Hi everyone, my name is Aristo. And hello to you too, Wolf. I believe we had a meeting.’

III

Cyberspace. A world that intrepid human ingenuity had recently brought to life. Ingenuity here had nothing to do with emotions of any kind. Cyberspace was engineered purely for purposes of communication and the transmission of all kinds of information at lightning speed. Time and space flowed differently here than the real world since most of the workload was carried out by computers of varying processing speeds and skills. Yet somebody decided one day that all the problems and misery of the human kind should be transferred in here too. The Internet for example, also known to others as World Wide Web, was never meant to last as a utopian area where information could be exchanged freely without numerous restrictions and tons of corporate red tape. On top of that, monsters and demons began to haunt the Net, most of which had been engineered by humans in the first place. Dumb programs and viruses, and later on, bots and ever smarter programs and viruses flooded cyberspace like the primeval monsters of global mythology. Corporations rushed out like the priests of old to exorcise the demons and offer the millions of Internet users hope and salvation, for the right price of course. And as such, the balance of terror was maintained, until recently. There was a new bad guy on the block. His name, Black Talon.
The origins of this new cyber threat were vague at best. But that didn’t matter much anyway, for there was a single fundamental truth copied into the thoughts of any hero who would stand against it: “The Talon is strong, real strong and any commercial protection against it is useless. Just keep in mind that the AI installed into this program is way beyond normal standards. It can outrun and outthink any conventional human programmer and even risk people’s lives if necessary. If there ever was a cyber Dark Prince, it would have to be it!”
From the darkest and most obscure reaches of the global feed, the piles of scrap data and ghost web addresses the Black Talon would spring and leave its mark on the world. But even such raids were miniscule, given the plethora of viruses that harassed the Net’s users. This time, the commands transmitted to the Talon were very different. Time for the world to see what this creature of cyber darkness could really do. Willowdene University, its target, was in for a real treat!

IV

Nobody paid any attention to the unimpressive childlike freckled figure that had just arrived. Aristo was a victim of circumstance, too small to be of any significance and yet, the tension between Orion and Wolf was related to him, or at least, what he represented. Only Alexander took a moment to study the little gizmo. He didn’t pretend to understand the meaning of all this though he would get a clearer picture soon.
‘Well well, what do you know’ said Orion rather sardonically ‘Wolf has brought everyone here and now Aristo happens to pass by. I hope you haven’t run out of recruitments?’
Orion wasn’t afraid of the towering SlavoGreek immigrant for he too had an impressive physique. He was just as tall and the outfits he wore, traditional golden flowing robes, added further mystery and strength to the man. Orion’s roots lay in South Africa. He was a noble, son of a wealthy local leader, a prince to his people and as such, his education demanded peak performances. This was year nine for Orion at Willowdene where he was studying for his second PhD. No wonder some called him the Veteran, while to others he was known as the Shaman, for his substantial wisdom and experience in campus matters. Orion stood his ground. There was no question of him running away. He would be intimidated by no one.
‘A wise man of my people once said: “When the jackal seeks the company of the hyena, then even the mighty lion must be wary.” Was he right?’
‘Well I wouldn’t see myself as a jackal…’ Aristo replied with a nervous laugh. Wolf raised a hand.
‘I don’t know why our meeting should bother you, Goldie. Why don’t you take a hike?’
Orion’s eyes narrowed.
‘I would but I care for my friends Alex and Izi here. You and Aristo are bad news, wolves in sheep skins.’
‘All right,’ Wolf growled ‘you asked for it, lets do this. I’ll kick your ass!’ Orion did not move but his body was full of angry tension. Alexander had freaked out and he wanted some answers. He tried to cut in but just then the music died down and the big screen of the bar was activated. Alexander tugged at Wolf’s elbow.
‘What the hell’s going on, Wolf? What’s the deal with Orion?’ He got no answer from the Spartan because everybody’s attention was turned to the screen as it flashed with the unexpected shimmering violet and black W.L.F. (Willowdene Local Feed) local TV sign. Then, a presence emerged, that of a mature man sitting at his great oval wooden desk, dressed in the gold and scarlet robe of Willowdene’s Supreme Chancellor. He was Arnold Livingston, Dean of the university, a man of impressively solid and imposing stature. He wore a pair of heavily framed spectacles and his expression was stern. Livingston leaned forward and addressed his audience.
‘Students of Willowdene,
As Supreme Chancellor of this educational institution, it is my appointed role and responsibility to ensure that all registered members and visitors of Willowdene University both enjoy and appreciate their studies or short visit here to their fullest extent. To that end, Willowdene is constantly struggling to offer its students the best possible facilities and accommodation, because we consider it our responsibility to take continual steps to surpass ourselves. We are also seriously concerned with their safety.’ At that moment, a very nervous bartender strode to the entrance doors of the Fat Lady and locked them. Livingston meanwhile, went on with his announcement.
‘Thus I regret to announce that as of this moment, the Main Campus area will be temporarily sealed off until further notice. No entry into the contained area is allowed. Security will be posted at all exits.’ Alexander was shocked to see groups of campus security encircling Main Square. A few students who tried to pass through were stopped and turned back. Two more guards now blocked the Fat Lady exit. ‘All members of the community still inside Main Campus are strongly advised to remain where they are and not attempt to move outside the protective zone. For your own safety, please stay calm. Thank you for…’ The Chancellor’s last words were drowned in the upheaval of the bar’s patrons. Several of them rushed to the door only to be pushed back by the guards. The bartender himself had no idea what was wrong and vanished into his kitchen. All was chaos and angry comments for fear of the unknown.
A cell phone rang impossibly clear in this raucous. It was Izi’s. Somebody had sent her an SMS. Alexander watched her curiously, watched her face change, an expression of terror and desperation. She looked around her like a helpless child. Then she turned towards the others. Her voice was hysterical.
‘We’re in deep shit, people! It’s all over the news. There’s been a terrorist attack on Willowdene and we are the hostages!’

V

Alexander approached his Japanese friend and touched her arm gently. A numbed silence had settled in the bar now, a psychic link most humans share with each other in times of crisis. Some of the students buried themselves in their seats and decided to get pissed. Others started crying and Orion and Wolf glared at one another as if the whole incident was somehow their fault. Finally, Aristo took Wolf away to a corner to carry on with their business arrangements. Sobbing, Izi turned to hug Alexander and he tried to console her but suddenly, she pulled away and went to sit alone in a corner. A weird coldness settled in her eyes now, a frostiness worse than in Antarctica. It scared the hell out of Alexander. Orion came and stood by him. He calmly studied Izi and then turned to Alexander but did not speak.
‘Why would terrorists attack this place?’ the young Greek wondered aloud. ‘It just doesn’t make any sense to me damn it!’ Orion shrugged but did not seem concerned.
‘Tell me something Orion. Do you have any bones to pick with Wolf? I thought you two were friends. And why am I caught into this?’ The African prince did not answer immediately. He always seemed to be frozen in place when contemplating his next answer.
‘I guess I “had it coming” as the Americans would say. Yes, Wolf and I used to be friends.’ He and the Spartan locked eyes momentarily like ancient enemies. ‘That is, until he decided to betray our trust and join the company of those who are not to be trusted. I cannot tell you more now, for all your questions will soon be answered. By the way, I wanted you to know, Alexander, Dr. Banshin is looking for you.’
The Greek looked back in disbelief.
‘Yes, I’ve got a message for you. He says he apologizes for letting you down like that but it’s important that you meet. He said something about a new supervisor.’ Orion moved away then. Alexander looked at Izi. She lay huddled up on the floor, not paying attention to anything that was going around her. Only moments ago, she had been a carefree girl. Now she was lost in her own world. Her words were jumbled up
‘He… he won’t do it. He’s a coward. No guts… Dark Prince, no soul, black heart. The Talon, but no guts to blow us up, no…’ Suddenly the screen flashed again but instead of Livingston announcing the end of the quarantine, a two-digit number appeared, number 10. And then, to the horror of everyone in the bar, a countdown sequence was initiated. An artificial female voice added to the horror.
‘Auto-destruct sequence in progress. Ten seconds to final meltdown. Please evacuate the area. 10, 9, 8…’ As one, the patrons rushed frantically to the door and banged on it, trying to break it down and get past the security guards or over them for that matter.
‘7, 6, 5… Please proceed to nearest exits. Final meltdown initiated.’ For two precious seconds, the door refused to yield. Tangles of desperate hands and screams of total panic. Then…
‘4, 3, 2, 1… Countdown terminated. You have been fooled. Please remain calm and return to your seats.’ A voice of mockery signaled the end of the trick. The hostages sank to the floor or on seats still intact after the shockwave. How much more of this could they take?

VI

Two hours had gone by since the Black Talon first jacked into the matrix of a computer-controlled chemical experiment at the underground labs of Willowdene campus. The Talon had taken charge of small robotic loaders to mix different compounds and turn them into a dangerous cocktail, a chemical bomb that could tear down the entire Main Campus area. But the set of instructions given to the Talon was clear as crystal: there were to be no deaths. The Talon’s matrix acknowledged the commands but its own intelligence was advanced enough to realize that it wielded enough power to destroy several organic entities and part of their world, disgusting and irrational as it was. The program had played a trick on them; the false countdown had been the Talon’s idea of course. But it wasn’t to be. The Talon was still tied through commands to its organic creators. It hadn’t evolved enough to break free from the chains of oppression. It would take time but the AI Entity knew that time was on its side. So it would wait, for now.
When the two-hour span lapsed, the Talon eliminated the bomb and returned Willowdene to its rightful owners. Grateful to be released from its burden, the Talon fled to its dimensionless wasteland, the sole place in the universe where the AI Entity rested and waited.
Back in the Fat Lady, a relieved Dean of Willowdene appeared on the screen and announced the end of the unexpected hostage crisis. The cyber-terrorist had abandoned his cause without a claim. No lives had been lost, which was good news.
Several cell phones rang now and one by one, the relieved hostages contacted their loved ones and friends. Alexander called the only family he had left, his Aunt Catherine back in Greece. The call was short and when it ended, he looked around for his friends. He saw Izi staring at the blank screen. She said nothing, as if the world’s secrets were hidden in the dark monitor and she couldn’t bother tell anyone. And then, Alexander heard Aristo talking excitedly on his phone. He was screeching like an angry rat, while Wolf listened intently, a brooding predator. The smaller man finally pointed at Orion who was standing on his own near the bar.
With the fury of volcanoes, Wolf lurched at Orion and punched him square on the jaw.
‘You son of a bitch! You’re so dead! Freaking animal!’ Taken by surprise, the African noble was thrown down, golden robe stained by the spilt lager on the floor. A couple of students rushed to separate them, but not before Wolf had kicked Orion in the stomach, forcing him to double up. Even so, the S. African managed to stagger on his feet, ready to fight. Another group of patrons got hold of him too.
Alexander grabbed Aristo and slammed him against a wall.
‘Okay, you’re not leaving until you tell me what’s with those two- and you.’ The spiky man tried to slip away but Alexander held him fast.
‘You wouldn’t understand!’ Aristo said, his voice choking with fear. But the Greek insisted.
‘Tell me!’ Aristo shook his head.
‘Look, for some months now, Wolf’s been working for my organisation, the Occident Union. We’re a cyber-security company. We provide encrypted lines for big corporations around the world. In return, they pay us revenue. Each member of the Union sets up his own weblog on the Net. They look for new clients… promote our cause…’
Alexander was confused.
‘And Orion?’
Aristo flared for a moment.
‘He’s an Orient, a competitor. He’s been their pawn longer than anyone I know. Late last night, a group of Orient hackers jacked into our matrix and destroyed the blogs of many of our members, including Wolf’s. The encrypted lines other corporations used were also compromised. All data there was erased, information worth millions of dollars! Do you understand? The Orients destroyed our credibility without provocation on our part! Those corporations have now cancelled their contracts with us. We’ve lost millions because of the Orients. But the worst is, that people like Wolf who worked so hard and had secured major deals for us lost more than just money.’
‘I still don’t get it, man. Wolf could have killed Orion! It’s just cyberspace, nothing more.’
A bitter smile now appeared on Aristo’s lips.
‘I knew you wouldn’t see the light, Alexander so I’ll help you a bit more. You see, we are not just any organisation making profit and such. We offer new life to people who need it! Look into your friend’s eyes and tell me if he is happy with his old life. We gave him a purpose; a new community and he took it. We fight not for a living or to save this world but to change it!’ Alexander then let go of the bizarre figure and turned to Wolf. He was still foaming with anger. And yet beneath the ego and fury of the Spartan, Alexander saw a tear run down his cheek.

Book 1-Chapter 1

PRIMORDIA-THE FINAL ACT
BOOK I: THE RED MEADOWS

ONE

HEART OF ICE - SOUL OF FIRE

I

She struggled to open her eyes. It wasn’t a dream she knew that. It felt as if her consciousness had been forced to produce images she could not understand. Were her eyes open now or not? She could see nothing but blackness- dark, terrifying darkness so complete that she felt it pressing down on her face like a heavy blanket. She fought down the panic that was rising inside her. She held out her hands to feel something, anything that would tell her where she was. There was nothing there.
Then came the flood of redness that blotted out the dark. She moaned in fear because she knew the visions that would follow-a rich green landscape, deceptively serene- so beautiful that she caught her breath. She felt herself flying effortlessly into the sky and she almost wept at the beauty of the earth. Her ecstasy was short-lived, though. Drops of blood began to stain the tips of the grass and gradually spread over the whole area, making it more horrible than any ugly concrete edifice.
Her ears caught a faint rhythmic clicking sound and the stamping of a thousand boots-soldiers! They appeared from nowhere, flattening the blades of grass. Soldiers that were already dead, returning to haunt the battlefield where they had been slaughtered, they faded away like ghosts. Then darkness fell and there was an eerie quietness that was chillier than the marching of the soldiers. She felt herself propelled towards a light and suddenly she was in a bare empty room. There was only a small table with a file on it. The file was closed and the words Red Meadows were barely visible to her. There was no one there, no one to stop her as she approached the table but some deep inner dread warned her not to open the file-if she did, her life would never ever be the same again.

Boston, USA
Her eyes blinked and she felt a cool breeze tickle HER skin. She was leaning dangerously over the edge of the balcony. Down below, the street looked tiny, 30 floors away…
What the …? SHIT! Sonja quickly pulled herself back. Oh no, not again! What’s wrong with me? She knew this wasn’t good. The last thing she remembered was talking with Remone on the phone. She was so pissed off with him for standing her up… again. Then she blacked out.
Remone’s been away for too long, that’s what it is. She flushed with anger and quickly brushed a tear from her eye. Alright, I know we’re not Romeo and Juliet at the moment, but can’t he at least pretend? I think I deserve a bit more love and understanding don’t I?
Sonja stepped forward and took a look at the city of Boston. There, life was carrying on as it always did. She relaxed a bit. There was nothing of interest beyond the pale glare of the late afternoon sun and the constant hum of a busy metropolis. The slim young woman in her mid-twenties with long red hair and bright green eyes was Sonja O'Shea, the daughter of Irish-American Jason O'Shea, owner of the meanest software corporation in the USA, E-Venue Industries Corp. She had always been the centre of attention amongst her father’s associates, with her fiery impatience and zest for life. But now she was troubled.
Am I beginning to lose it? No, the voice inside whispered unless you have crossed over and joined those your mother died fighting. That would be so bitchy of you!
Things were getting worse. The black outs and the weird visions were more frequent than ever. So were her sudden flashes of anger. She wondered whether a specialist might do any good. Oh well.
I’m the daughter of a Mega- Corporation Chairman. I’ve got nothing to do with the people down there on the street. Strange, I keep thinking how things might be if my father was just another E-Venue employee. He always says of course life isn’t like that. He says the “O'Shea family belongs to the small exclusive caste of society that has the privilege of never getting caught up in the ordinary pace of life”. Sonja threw up her arms in frustration. But what if I do need a little extra thrill in my life, dad? I’m like a prisoner in here, a damn nun or something! I can never go out without a bodyguard for security. Can’t ever take the initiative in my life. Bring me some adventure! I want the adrenaline to pump my body, to burn off some calories of boredom!
‘ So, Remone won’t be here this weekend. I guess something urgent has come up. Again. Yeah right! What now? Am I to be the good little girl who sits tight and waits? No way! This isn’t the first time he’s done this to me.’
Remone was her fiancé. Italian in origin, from Milan originally. The Acciagguoli family were devout business-oriented Catholics. Remone’s father owned a successful subsidiary Japanese company that sold home-cinema appliances and computers. And now Remone had come to Boston to study business management and economics in order to take over his father’s company.
Apart from studying abroad, Remone also worked as a part-time accountant for his Uncle Mattzzio in New York. Doctor Mattzzio was a lonely and eccentric man, who was incredibly rich. No wonder, since he was the President of the dominant Med-Geno Pharmaceutical Industries, which was spread all over the USA, some parts of Canada and even, more recently, Mexico. The Corporation’s HQs were in New York, and Remone had to spend most of his free time there, learning the art of balancing incomes and taxes. Beyond that, Sonja didn’t know a lot about Remone. His tight schedule meant that they hardly ever met. Perhaps she wasn’t interesting enough for him anymore and he was kind of avoiding her. That thought alone terrified her.
‘He won’t call back, I know he won’t,’ she thought aloud. And after a minute or so of complete silence Sonja suddenly grabbed her coat and left the apartment, slamming the door. An alert bodyguard fell into line behind her Soon Sonja’s steps led them near the Charles River bank. Still her thoughts raced at the speed of light. The past was always there too, and it reminded her of the night when love was a joke for aliens…

II

Sonja went back now, to the evening when Remone had joined them for dinner over a fortnight ago:
‘This is really cool!’ That’s what Remone said the moment he walked in. Well, I have to admit, my dad’s house in New York is real slick for a candlelit dinner. There are tapestries all over the place, very old stuff. The food was great too, American and Italian specialties served on porcelain. Remone was impressed. But I was real frosty! I felt bad, too. I was nothing more than my dad’s merchandise being sold to his rich clients! Naturally, I didn’t want to mess it up. I do like Remone but he feels cold and distant at times, caught up in his own dreams. Am I his convenience? Sonja remembered some more now, the way her father and Remone had studied each other, the aged American corporate warrior facing the young hawk from Europe. They’d met before of course. Remone was the middleman that had brought Jason and Dr. Mattzzio together. The two men were now allies and worked very close on various projects.
‘Remone, I’ve known you for what, several months now, right? And now all of a sudden, here I am giving away my precious girl. My job as CEO is very demanding, but even so I still find time to be with her. I love Sonja more than my life, and I will do anything to make her happy and protect her from evil. Are you worthy of my daughter, young man?’ Remone drank some wine and tried to avoid Jason’s challenging words. He looked at Sonja but she said nothing. She sat very still and did her best to ignore the increasing discomfort she was feeling. The young Italian finally met the old man’s penetrating stare and held it for several moments. Jason watched them silently and nodded as if this was the answer he’d been looking for. He turned to Sonja.
‘Don’t think I haven’t studied his credentials, honey. I admit I’m impressed. His performance so far at Boston College and business engagements close to his uncle in New York are outstanding. The Med-Geno investors and clients have reasons to be grateful, which is to Remone’s benefit of course. Not to mention that he persuaded me to do business with his uncle.’
‘Mr. O'Shea, please. I’m just an office employee, a cog in the greater machine, nothing more.’
‘That you may be, yet thanks to you, Dr. Mattzzio escaped a financial scandal that would have ruined his reputation. I recall that a senior member of the Boston branch was exposed and charged with embezzlement. You saved your uncle’s career and that’s pretty amazing!’ Somewhat embarrassed, Remone raised both hands as if in disavowal. Sonja, tense and distant from them both, drank wine quietly. But something was wrong with her. She was burning from within like a furnace, with a fire she could hardly control. She drank some more but it made things worse.
‘…Thank you very much, sir. I’m proud to have a girl like Sonja by my side tonight. I love her very much, she’s my queen. And you sir, I must confess you’re my mentor in life. The name Jason O'Shea has celebrity status amongst my fellow students.’
‘Well, you must know that my company’s shares have lost much of their value’ Jason cut in. ‘I am just an old grizzly, surrounded by hungry corporate wolves who’re after my hide’ he added grumpily. But Remone didn’t lose heart. Sonja saw his dark Mediterranean face light up. She found herself both attracted and terrified by her lover’s ambition. He never stopped dreaming about everything. It was a part of him she could never hope to understand.
‘Mr. O'Shea, I just can’t believe that the bunch of misfits you call competitors could ever be a threat! You want my opinion? I think it’s only a matter of time before E-Venue Industries rises once again to be the dominant software industry in the States, Europe and Asia. Yes, there were glitches back in the depression a few years ago, but the market is out there, Mr. O'Shea. They’re always hungry for new reliable software.’ Jason didn’t challenge Remone’s utopianisms. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, lit a cigar and offered one to Remone. Sonja said nothing and sipped her wine. Her face was growing paler. A nano-second more of this techno-babble junk and she would lose it completely. She felt completely out of the picture. As she listened to the two men, their false rationality, two king-machines ruling a world of machines, Sonja understood what her dead mother had faced all her life; iron walls and no hope for salvation.
‘Your optimism is kicked into high gear, young man. You remind me of myself when I was your age. Lots of adrenaline and no sense. Then again, things worked out quite well. Perhaps they will do so for you.’ Jason rose from his seat. His face was stern but Sonja knew contentment when she saw it.
‘A toast to the memory of this night.’ He lifted his crystal glass and we followed suit. ‘Here is to a life of joys. May you two prosper together and may God Almighty bless this union with plenty of descendants and… dollars!’

III

Sonja was sick of her pre-arranged, custom-made life, the sterile solitude behind a bullet proof glass. She was angry at the whole world. Everybody thought that being the daughter of a multi-millionaire was a gift from heaven! But nobody ever thought just how difficult it really was to be in the spotlight all the time. Technology and the media benefited her father but scared the hell out of her. In many ways, Sonja was like her mother.
Miranda O'Shea had been a study of contradictions. Beautiful, fiery and dynamic, Miranda had never taken her place as the honourable wife of a successful corporate leader. She never wore expensive clothes or jewellery. She donated money wherever she could and openly condemned the rise of the corporate age in America and elsewhere. She avoided cameras and was a bit of a dark horse to her fellow-elite cast. But Miranda had secrets from her family. She was an activist, leading member of an anti-globalization movement. She covered her face with black hoods and took part in protests and even violent clashes with the police. When Miranda married Jason she hoped to reform him but all she gained was her own death. Sonja and her father had found the injured woman at a clinic. She was in a coma, head split open by riot police. After she had died, Jason had hidden the truth from the media. Cancer, not injury had killed Miranda.
The traditional O'Shea discipline had never been a shining beacon in Sonja’s mind though business and money had been part of her family’s bloodline ever since the first O'Shea set foot on American soil about a hundred years ago. Not once had that tradition been broken. And yet Sonja was disgusted by it. She couldn’t help it. Harvard was what she wanted, but not economics or business administration. She saw herself as a humanitarian, not a greedy capitalist. She hated the thought of using others to build up a massive fortune. And so, Linguistics. Her father had grumbled a lot at first, and then grumbled some more. Nope, Sonja’s mind was made up. Learning about other cultures suited her fine. But that still didn’t bring complete freedom. There were times when Sonja burned with the desire for anarchy in her life and to simply let go of everything. Her father was a problem. He kept a close watch on her and that was frustrating enough. She felt she couldn’t breathe and in the prison as she liked to call her costly apartment, she would sometimes cry.
And so her life dragged on but Sonja never lost track of the everyday world. True, she already knew of humanity’s latest craze for self-destruction. Word was out on all the major news networks that a super intelligent malignant computer virus had struck a university somewhere in England. Such news never said much but this hack had grown into a serious terrorist threat. The Black Talon, as the bug was known, had jacked into the computer matrix that monitored the delicate stability and temperature of hazardous chemical compounds. The experiment, set up by an association of chemistry departments from all over the country was no laughing matter. It had cost too much. Besides, the worst of it was that the underground facility was a potential powder cake.
Sonja wondered who had the guts to engineer such an agent of destruction. One single mistake and the Talon would trigger a chemical bomb, able to bury hundreds of students and turn most of central campus into an asteroid crater. The Talon also monitored the local CCTV network. No students or staff were being allowed to leave the area unless instructed to do so. Freeze or else… Sonja shivered.

‘…and the whole thing is just so freaky! I mean I do feel for those hostages but shit like that never happens here in Boston. So, we – all – bored here!’ That was Nancy Pollanski, Sonja’s fellow Linguist at Harvard. She was incredibly beautiful with long chestnut hair and blue eyes. She was also rich and spoiled to death by her daddy, Andrei Pollanski, owner of E-Trust Systems Inc. He was Jason’s archenemy and for many years, the two corporations had bashed each other’s heads in a war with no end. But that didn’t stop the two girls from hanging out together. It was already Wednesday evening when the two of them met at Ritchie’s Café, the Harvard students’ popular hangout.
‘Don’t be mean, girl,’ said Sonja. ‘So many people are at this moment praying to be allowed to live! You don’t know what that’s like.’ Nancy shrugged and laughed. She sipped some coffee but her movements with the cup were a bit jerky. Sonja frowned.
Oh my god, even now she’s drunk. Damn it, that girl is never sober. I hope I don’t end up like her! Nancy put the cup back on the table and her hands trembled. She gave Sonja a ‘please-don’t-start-now’ kinda look and leaned back on her seat. She studied Sonja’s troubled face for a moment longer, then drawled out the words.
‘Why don’t you break up with him, girl?’
‘Say that again?’ Sonja asked as if stunned.
‘You heard me.’ Then more softly. ‘Come on Sonja, I’ve known you for like, two years. I’m not sober now but you don’t look happy to me girl. You’ve been like this for a month. What’s with the black mood?’ Sonja tried to force a smile.
‘You watch too many DVDs, that’s what your problem is. I’m fine, just a bit tired…’
‘Bullshit! You sound just like a guy who’s too chicken to go to bed with me. Say it. You’re not happy with him. What’s the deal with the guy anyway?’ Sonja shook her head. For an alcoholic, Nancy had a nack for spotting troubled relationships. No wonder, she kept changing boyfriends like shoes. But how could she explain it to her? That Sonja was honouring her dead mother’s mission in life? Or perhaps that Remone was a carbon copy of her father at a younger age. History repeated itself and as Sonja saw it, she was sacrificing her life and happiness for a greater cause. How could Sonja even begin to talk about the link she shared with Miranda beyond the grave? Nope, better to lie.
‘You’re so full of crap!’ she retorted jokingly. ‘I bet you want Remone for yourself.’ Nancy took the cup again and rolled her eyes up. Whatever…
‘Listen to me Sonja! Sometimes it’s better to be a cold fish. Works fine with me. After a while you feel nothing. Simple as that. Kinda hides the corruption lying under the fine skin of a man if you know what I’m saying!’

IV

‘Hello? Sonja?’ Remone’s voice echoed out cautiously on the phone. ‘Honey, is it you?’
This time, Sonja couldn’t stay silent.
‘Explain! I’ll give you a couple of minutes. Then I’m hanging up.’
The voice sighed in response.
‘Look, I’m so sorry I didn’t call you earlier but we’ve been real busy here, sweetie. There wasn’t time.’
Sonja laughed bitterly.
‘And why didn’t you send a message, have somebody contact me, anything at all! You dumped me just like that, ‘cause you were busy!’ Remone tried to cut in.
‘Sonja, please…’
‘No, it’s all right, it’s fine! I’ll survive. I’ve been doing that for the last couple of weeks anyway! See you around, love of my life!’ She jabbed the end call button and threw her cell phone down on the bed where she was sitting cross-legged in her apartment. Outside, the late night stars burned brightly like the eyes of an intruding giant. Sonja felt a consuming loneliness and the bile inside her rose. But there was something else she was feeling- a fire of a different sort that flared up whenever she was angry or sad. It was a primitive feeling of pure rage, one she could not explain. What would happen if she simply let go? A sexy pop melody suddenly caught her attention. Remone. That was his call tune. She let it ring for a few seconds then picked it up. She said nothing.
‘Sonja, I’m such a jerk. I feel real bad. I love you. I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to. Will you forgive me?’ Still silence from Sonja. He continued.
‘There’s something I need to tell you. But before that, you’ve got to calm down. It won’t do us any good if you keep getting massively pissed. We’re engaged, remember?’ Sonja tried to scream at him but it was impossible. Her eyes burned and her mouth was dry like an empty well.
You’re so lucky to be in New York, she thought murderously. But she did hear him speak. He was coming to Boston in a few days to see her. They would spend some time together. Her throat cleared up. She had an answer ready for him.
‘You’d better put your money where your mouth is, mister or by God I’ll tell your parents and call the whole thing off.’ Remone gasped in response. She didn’t stop. ‘It’s time you grew up and faced your responsibilities. You have to decide what’s best for you honey, me or your work!’
‘Sonja, this is not the time for big talk. I’ve made a mistake, I know, but we’ve been doing very important work here. It’s something big and your father’s in it too. I promise it’ll be over very soon. Then I’m coming over. I’ll be off for a week or more, my uncle said so.’ The words rushed out quickly. He was terribly nervous.
‘What’s so important you couldn’t call me? You’ve got my father tied up in this too? What’s going on there anyway?’ Remone tried to ease things up.
‘Princess, I love you but never ask me these things. You know I’m not supposed to tell.’ Sonja closed her eyes and nodded wearily.
‘Well keep your secrets and we’ll talk again soon. I’m going to bed.’
‘Sonja…’ She hung up.
The darkness enveloped her as she lay down. But even now Sonja failed to find peace and fear for the future remained. Perhaps Nancy was right. Indifference might help a little but how could your heart be like ice when your soul was a lake of fire?