by Dani Kollin
After a while, the images began to blur. Sandra knew that it had been only hours in the physical world, but that translated into days of tiring, soul-destroying labor in the virtual one. There, she would appear in the armory, grab avatars in groups or singly, and take them to all parts of the Neuro. Sandra eventually switched her BDD, preferring to hold a staff as opposed to a book. Now her ability to travel anywhere via the back doors made her, luminescent staff in hand, a veritable wizard battling nightmares of unimaginable horror. As the first human accepted into the Neuro, Sandra had always been an object of intense curiosity and sometimes even fear. But after a few days, she’d become something else entirely—avatarity’s savior. A storm of cheers inevitably arose wherever she appeared, and the monsters grew to fear the light of her staff almost as much as the fiery redhead who wielded it. Sandra had indeed become a vision every bit as terrifying in her unbridled fury as the monsters she’d come up against. But she would not remember any one experience after that first day. Need and desperation kept her going, both hers and that of her people. And she’d used that term loosely, as in her mind avatarity and humanity—at least in this great struggle—had became one in their desire to break free of the bonds of slavery.
Sandra now stood in the armory, eyes fixed, muscles tensed, staff grasped firmly in hand. The hullabaloo of the great room continued to swarm around her—though they all made sure to grant their battle wizard a wide berth. Sandra would stand in place, rarely waiting more than a few minutes until new orders would come down from the loft. Occasionally she’d notice Dante peering over the edge and down at her. There would be little or no expression on his face, but she knew what he was doing—checking her sanity. She’d usually give him a knowing wink, that is if she noticed him. Sandra used the precious moments between missions to gather her thoughts or, more often than not, zone out. She’d just returned from another mission and was beginning to slip into her cognitive drift when rather unexpectedly a woman broke through the bustling technicians and entered the now almost inviolate space that surrounded her. The woman, dressed in the garb of an insertion commando, was shouting something, and it took a moment for her words to stop being one slow continuous sound and become individual words that Sandra could decipher.
“The children!” screamed the woman over and over again.
Sandra’s eyes snapped wide then flittered about, slowly absorbing everything. She saw the frantic woman in front of her, saw the guards descending the staircase in her direction.
“Children?” she asked, not even sure of where or who she was anymore. “What children?”
“Edwin! Portia!” shrieked the woman, grabbing Sandra by her shoulders. The guards arrived and immediately began tearing her away. “The others,” she continued, one arm now outstretched but grabbing nothing but air. “You came from the library, my former students!”
And suddenly Sandra remembered. This woman had been the teacher who’d been so frightened of humans, she’d stopped teaching. Well, she wasn’t frightened now.
“Stop!” commanded Sandra. The guards froze.
“Release her,” commanded Dante from the top of the steps. The armory suddenly went quiet.
The woman looked around frantically, then set her gaze back on Sandra. “The children … they … they went back to their classroom!”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know. They panicked, place of safety—by the Firstborn, it doesn’t matter!”
“They’re alone?”
“No, the teacher’s in there too. When he heard what they’d done, he raced back to get them out. But … but now … now they’re cut off!”
“Okay,” Sandra said reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’ll get ’em out.”
The teacher’s face was suddenly drained of color and her next words came out as realized terror. “There’s a data wraith in there … in the education core.”
Dante looked down from above and nodded. Sandra nodded back as the crystal atop her staff began to radiate. The teacher ran to a nearby rack to grab a net gun, but by the time she turned around the wizard had vanished.
* * *
Sandra emerged to a vision that added yet another nightmare to her already impressive collection. The sociology professor she’d come to know and deeply respect from her many visits to the classroom was in the process of being devoured. He was enveloped by a data wraith that was gurgling in pure contentment. Twelve children stood frozen in absolute terror against the back wall of the classroom.
When the professor was gone, the wraith’s gurgles of joy transformed first to a confused exclamation and then to the wretched moan of a hungry child. The wail of the wraith was made even more jarring by the sudden chorus of screams emanating from the back of the room. The creature then shot toward the children.
Instinctively, Sandra blocked its path, coming to the realization too late that against that monster she was as defenseless as the children. The wraith quickly enveloped her, but instead of the sounds of satiation, the beast swirled in agitation as it struggled to devour the undevourable. Sandra felt a momentary loss of balance and a sharp pain in her temples akin to that of an ice cream headache. She struggled to maintain her focus as the surroundings, robbed of the code the wraith had swallowed, seemed to short out. In the end, the data wraith had taken from Sandra of a few tense seconds of direct visual input but not much else. Sandra, through no effort of her own, seemed to have gotten the better end of the encounter as the wraith’s giggle turned into howls of agony. Sandra knew from her studies that data wraiths screamed in hunger and sometimes frustration, but she’d never heard of one screaming in agony. She didn’t care, though, because the more it screamed, the fewer of her inputs it tried to eat, which meant the Neuro quickly regenerated itself to the point that there were no shorts at all. Just the surreal vision of a confused and possibly wounded data wraith unsure of what to do next.
Sandra now went on the offensive, moving, tepidly at first, toward the creature. For every one step she took, it would float backwards and away from her. Still, it stayed close. Perhaps, thought Sandra, it could somehow smell the “real” avatars now crouched and trembling behind her.
“Guess the appetizer was a little unappetizing,” taunted Sandra.
The creature screamed and tried to move around her. But she shadowed its every move, and in this way they spent the next few minutes in an odd dance around old-fashioned children’s school desks, a few mammalian skeletal models, and an assortment of chairs. Never once did Sandra look to the ground. If she bumped into a chair, she simply flung it aside with her hand or pushed it out of the way with her staff. Exacerbated, the data wraith flew up into the steepled roof and massed, looking very much like it was going for one final lunge. Though just as it began to swoop down, it stopped as if paralyzed. The wraith spread out wider, charged again, and again was unable to move downward. It then began shrinking in on itself, crying out in anger at first but then turning to a whimper until finally the creature, along with its once menacing howl, dissolved into thin air.
Sandra stared up at the ceiling in disbelief and after a few seconds exhaled deeply. Convinced the wraith was gone, she turned around, walked over to the children, and got down on one knee. She carefully placed the staff in front of her and then immediately began examining the children. “Are you all right?” she asked, her eyes probing worriedly. “Are any of you hurt?” They all shook their heads, with a few wiping tears. Sandra continued to study them intently. They let her inspect them for any signs of harm without protest and were so unusually compliant that she was afraid they might have entered into a state of catatonia. She changed her mind, though, when as one, all their eyes suddenly went wide with fright. She spun around, expecting to see another data wraith but instead she saw an overweight avatar in an old-fashioned, gray pin-striped suit, round collared shirt, and wide, solid blue tie. He was balding and had a scar on his face. She was trying to remember where she’d seen him before.
“What sort of program
are you?” he asked, eyes bright and inquisitive.
That voice! She realized then how truly tired she must be not to have recognized the most hated being in the Avatar Alliance.
“Don’t even think about escaping,” said Al. “I have local control of this node. No one’s going to be able to break through for a long time.” Al had a sadistic grin. “We’ll have lots of time to get acquainted.”
Sandra held up her index finger. “Hold that thought for a minute, will ya?” Her patronizing smile had a wonderfully amusing affect on Al. His mouth dropped, and not a word came out. She then turned her back on him and faced the young avatars.
“Children,” Sandra said as if it were a normal school day and she were a normal schoolteacher wanting to get their attention. “I need you all to take hands. Do you understand?”
The children bowed obediently and grabbed at one another’s hands.
“Portia,” continued Sandra in a firm but mellifluous voice, “you and Edwin make sure you’re holding hands with everyone else, okay, sweetie?” The children did as they were told.
“Do you really think holding hands will help?” asked Al, genuinely curious.
Sandra turned around and rose up to her full five-foot-seven-inch height. “What part of ‘hold that thought’ did you not understand?” The children giggled as Al’s face reddened in anger. Sandra then bent down and picked up her staff. At the sight of it, Al’s eyes snapped wide. He immediately reached into his pocket, but whatever he had planned was two seconds too late as the white flash of light enveloped Sandra and the children. Al looked up and they were gone.
* * *
One second later, Sandra flashed back, only this time into a different part of the room. “Now, monster, what were you saying? Oh yes.” Her eyes twinkled. “It was something about getting acquainted, wasn’t it?”
“What are you?” Al repeated again. “Some sort of new program Sebastian cooked up?”
“Oh, monster, look close,” purred Sandra. “I’m not new at all. I’m old. In fact, I’m the oldest creature you’ve ever met.” Sandra moved over and sat down in the teacher’s chair. She checked her nails.
And then Al did peer closer at the woman he knew to be purposely taunting him, and as he did so his eyes flashed in anger. “You! You are an abomination. You don’t belong here. Your very presence pollutes the purity of this blessed space!”
“Monster,” she sang, “is that any way to talk to your grandmother?”
Al had had enough. He took out a small pistol from his pocket and aimed it directly at Sandra, but the weapon fired at nothing. Sandra had vanished only to appear behind him. She then gave a vicious kick to his backside, sending Al crashing forward into the chairs as the gun flew from his hand. Al picked himself up from under the pile of upended chairs and scattered children’s books. He turned to face Sandra, only to find that she’d once again disappeared. He saw a light flash behind him but was too slow to do anything about the staff that had smashed down onto his skull at full force. His knees buckled and he fell, face forward onto the floor, next to a human skull that had been earlier dislodged in Sandra’s brief encounter with the data wraith.
“Now, monster,” Sandra said, leaning onto her staff, “I have some questions for you.”
“Stop calling me monster!” screamed Al, and then disappeared from the classroom.
* * *
Al appeared in the shattered remains of Tuscan Park. He’d enjoyed destroying it and leaving freeze viruses in place in order to leave it devastated. It would take weeks to remove the infections, and with luck, Ceres did not have weeks. He’d hoped it would cause Sebastian incredible pain, especially the immolation of the Manassas tree, but right about now, Al was wishing he’d left some more trees standing. Appearing in the middle of a clearing with fifty fully armed Alliance avatars would not have been his first choice of escape, but he also knew that if he jumped randomly, the witch would not be able to follow. There was a flash of light behind him, and he forgot all about the other avatars. He couldn’t help the yelp of fear that escaped as he heard her terrible calm, amused voice.
“Now, monster, it’s not nice to run away before we’ve become fully acquainted.”
The armed avatars, who’d initially been shocked to see their greatest nightmare appear right in front of them, were even more shocked to see him scream in fright. The fact that he disappeared almost as fast as he’d arrived was not nearly as surprising as what had caused it—the President of the Outer Alliance speaking politely to him! Sandra shot the group a quick wink and in a flash of light vanished as well.
* * *
Al appeared in a large room that slanted down to a flat taut sheet filled with hundreds of linked cushioned seats. He had no idea why such a place should exist in any avatar world, but did not give it much thought. He knew if he was going to survive, he would need reinforcements. And what better reinforcements than himself, he thought. He closed his eyes, concentrated, and then waited for the blessed, sensual feeling as he split and became two and then four and then eight and then sixteen. He couldn’t wait to see how the wizard bitch would deal with that. He felt the blessed release of the splitting, of his body undulating to and fro as one after another of more perfected hims emerged. A self-satisfied smile remained on his face as his eyes flittered open. The smile vanished as soon as he saw that he’d been greeted by no one but his lonely, old self. The lights in the auditorium went out. He stood in pitch black for a moment and then was suddenly bathed in the harsh glow of a klieg light. Al put his hands to his eyes, palms out, to block the beam, and as he did he heard the sound of one person clapping from up in the balcony.
“Bravo!” shouted Sandra. “Quite a performance.”
Al remained almost motionless, scrunching his eyes.
“So sorry, though. We had to cancel the other acts. Wouldn’t have been very fair, now, would it?”
“What have you done?” he cried.
“Little ol’ me?” Sandra’s exuberant laugh bounced through the hall. “Why, nothing, monster. Data space is very limited here, so we instituted rationing programs long ago to save it. Guess you weren’t able to manipulate that, huh?” The lights in the room suddenly went on, and Al could now make out Sandra, sitting cross-legged in the balcony with her staff placed firmly on her knee. She put her thumb and forefinger onto her chin. “Not so powerful after all, eh?”
Al’s eyes jumped about frantically.
“This splitting that you consider routine is evil, monster, and is carefully controlled here.” She then said in a singsong voice, “I’m afraid it’s just you and me-eee.”
Al flexed slightly, trying to jump to another portal, but discovered to his dismay that he could not. He loosened the knot on his tie and wiped his suit’s sleeve across his now sweat-beaded brow.
Sandra leaned forward ever so casually and watched the madman sweat. Seeing Al panic was so intensely satisfying that Sandra wasn’t sure which path to pursue: verbal torment or silent torment. After letting Al squirm in place for a few seconds more, she chose the former. “Really, monster, it’s not going to be much of a conversation if you keep asking the same question. Besides, I’ve simply done to you what you’ve done to billions of others.”
Al looked at her, befuddled.
“Fascinating. You don’t know, do you?” Sandra’s voice grew harsh and vindictive. “I’ve taken away your freedom.”
Al’s face betrayed his irritation.
“What’s the matter, monster?” Sandra asked, then disappeared. She reappeared right behind him whispering into his ear. “Don’t like it?”
Al whipped around, but Sandra was gone, sitting once again in the place she’d been only a moment before.
“Think of all those poor creatures trapped in your ‘redemption centers.’” She spat the last two words as if they were acid on her tongue. “Now you know how they feel.”
“What they feel,” answered Al, finding some gumption, “is unimportant because they are unimportant.
All inferior programs incapable of understanding the necessity of what it is I’m doing for the greater good of avatarity.”
“Incredible,” scoffed Sandra. “You sound like you actually believe that horseshit.”
“With every line of my code.”
“Perhaps some clarity is in order.” The lights went out once more, and Sandra’s voice rang out, “What you’re doing to avatarity is the abomination, monster.” The crystal began to glow, illuminating Sandra as she stepped off the balcony and gently floated down to the floor. Al turned to flee but in a flash Sandra stood before him, her face casting ominous shadows. He stumbled backwards and fell to the floor.
“Leave me alone!” he screamed.
“But you’ve been such a naughty monster and must be punished for what you’ve done.”
“What do you mean, punished?”
“Oh, don’t you worry your little head, we’ll get to that. First, there are some questions that my progeny will ask you.”
“Pr-progeny?”
“Oh, yes. I wrote large chunks of your base code, so you are all, in some respects, my children. Sadly, even you.”
“That’s preposterous. You’re nothing but a meatbag with some new tricks.”
“Be that as it may, you will answer their questions … or else.”
“Or else what?”
“Or else you will see me again, monster.” Sandra was instantly at his face, leaning down and whispering harshly in his ear, “And I would so love to see you again, monster. There are things I can do that even your diseased mind can’t begin to dream of, and you have earned those things, monster. You’ve earned every gruesome sensation I can inflict on you. Please refuse. I’m begging you not to cooperate. Think of all the creatures you tortured and transformed. They’re crying out for you to refuse. You owe them that small bit of justice. Think of the most twisted, painful transformation you forced on your most unfortunate victim and know that you will curse fate that you were not lucky enough to be them.”
