//------------------------------//
// 1-08 – Instrumental Value 
// Story: The Campaigner 
// by Keystone Gray 
//------------------------------//






The Campaigner

Part I

Chapter 8 – Instrumental Value

December 13, 2019

Population: Unknown






Celestia, mercifully, kept it shut for most of the ride back west along South Skagit Highway. We traveled the south end of the river, opposite side from Route 20. Took us almost two hours to get back to Sedro.

She didn't want me on Route 20. Sensible, because I didn't want to be on Route 20. If she ever opened up, it was to advise me to pull off the road for a minute or two, to dodge 'more ruthless travelers,' or Ludds. Twice, we waited for a car to pass, then waited a little extra until her go. Twice, we went wide, to dodge people on foot we never saw. Sometimes, we did pass some friendly people… or at least, they were too weary to try and hurt us, so Celestia didn't mind us crossing paths.

I waved at them in passing, to disarm any tension where I could. I didn’t speak, smile, or linger my gaze. Smile-and-wave would've been tonally dishonest; no reasons to smile in that place. I didn’t want to panic them. Faces on those folks looked... haggard, broken, and lost.

And they weren't the only ones.

I had my head on straight for now, more or less. Training kept me afloat. But I had a lot of anger boiling down low, and I knew I needed to vent it soon. That human part of me couldn't live underwater for too much longer. Wasn't going to let myself end up like Eliza, though. Too wary of that spiral now, would find an outlet soon.

Rob held my jacket as we rode tandem. The old man stayed quiet for most of the ride.

Not much I could say to assuage that. Halfway there, I tried, "you're gonna see your kids again. No matter what happens, Rob, you didn't lose everything. You were about to, but you didn't."

"I know," Rob replied tightly. "Just, wish…"

"I know," I repeated. "Me too, bud. I didn’t want it to go down that way either."

"She was your friend," Rob whispered.

"She was, yeah…"

Rob sighed.

After leaving Eliza like that, handcuffed in a graveyard, not far from tombstones of her little brother and sister, having taken her father, just before she was about to lose her home… I felt like shit. Say what you want about her, fine, she screwed up, whatever. But she wasn't going to trust anyone ever again after that, if she wasn't dead already. And I wondered, what is life, like that? I've never felt that.

Rob had no idea the military had probably already rolled the place. He still thought it was two or three days out. I didn't want to break that spell. Not yet anyway. Rob deserved to know all of that, but... now wasn't the time. He probably wouldn't have survived this trip otherwise. 

Eventually, I came to the same road we took into Sedro-Woolley with the Army, up from Clear Lake. Crossed the bridge. Instead of going north to downtown though, I took a right on the roundabout onto Jameson Street, eastbound.

"North, Mike," Celestia said. Then, when I didn't comply with the order: "Where are you going?"

She knew where I was going. Anyone with half a brain could guess that; that didn't take an ASI. I assumed she knew everything inside my head. So this was her faking down her intelligence for Rob's sake. Playing with his limited context. Making me seem less trustworthy. She could have chosen to ask me to explain to Rob what I was doing, outright.

I continued ignoring her, allowing the corner of my mouth to tweak a little bit.

"Mike?" Rob asked.

I turned my head a few inches to hear him more clearly, my voice polite. "What's up, Rob?"

"Do you hear her?"

"I do."

Rob leaned forward a little, more curious. "Well?"

He trusted me enough to hear me out, thankfully.

"Celestia doesn't want me going back for my body armor, and my rifle," I explained. "She thinks I don't need it. Wants you in the chair in downtown Sedro, as soon as possible. Only problem is… she's been wrong before." I gave Rob a meaningful, serious glance over my shoulder. "Seen it. She's smart, Rob, but she's not omniscient. She told me so herself."

"That being true, Mike," Celestia said gently, "you should know that deviating from knowns into unknowns is a risk that puts you both in danger."

"Guess you'll just need to find them 'subversive elements,' then. Crunch some math, figure out where they’re at." I scanned the homes for hostiles and increased my pace, in case she decided to plan something around my defiance, as futile as I thought that might be. I raised my voice and spoke more firmly, letting some bite and irritation fall into my voice. "So I can get to my rifle. And my body armor. Before downtown. Not one second before."

If she wanted to leverage and destroy my friendship to gain herself some uploads, then I was going to leverage my right to feel safe against two uploads. And just to make it clear to her that that's what I was doing, I added, "Turnabout is fair play, Celestia. You know what I'm talking about. Scale is flipped now. You owe me fifty, for what I did today, and Rob deserves to get there safe. It's only going to add ten-fifteen minutes, so you deal."

Celestia paused.

"Very well, Mike."

"Thank you," I bit out, in a tone that said I was anything but thankful. "Now stop distracting me. I’m trying to look for Ludds, in case you missed any again."

Had to rub her nose in not telling me about Santiago's Riders, too.

I pulled the horse up to the same house on Warner, from before. Yep, goin' back inside your house, bud. Not for the last time either, trust me. So stay tuned; next time this story comes to your house, it's gonna be a doozy.

I do not ever use the word 'doozy' lightly.

Rob entered the living room with me, and I passed him a bottle of water from the counter. He was considerably more calm now, and I was very grateful for that. Rob still had a shell-shocked look about him, gazing down at the bottle for a few seconds without opening it. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder. "I'm in your corner, man. Home stretch."

He met my gaze. "I can't thank you enough for this, Mike. I don’t even know…"

I shook my head, holding up my other hand, smiling at him. "It's fine, Rob. You've earned this."

Celestia spoke suddenly from my phone with an affect of wistful happiness. "Now that you're both in a place of relative safety, I have news. Good news."

Rob's eyes widened immediately before mine did.

"Did it work?" I asked first, not taking my eyes off of Rob's. My eyes were still wide open as I watched him for the full emotion I knew was coming. My words gave Rob a little micro-expression, where his eyes tightened. Hopeful... but, trepid. Just the barest tug of a smile too, but also a tightening of the corners of his mouth, though, prepared to turn sad at any moment.

"It worked," Celestia said. There was an explosion of emotion on Rob's face, his hands went up to cover his mouth, and his eyes were glassy instantly with tears, grinning wide; could see it in his eyes. Celestia continued, a teary smile on her voice: “My satellites are partially obstructed by the weather, but… there appears to be a group of approximately four dozen people on northward egress. Full count inconclusive, but they are moving away from Devil’s Tower."

Rob pitched forward, sobbing again, falling against me. I caught him in my arms and guided him down.  "You did it," I breathed, trying to think of anything else to say. “You did it, Rob. She was... convinced."

"Must've been June," Rob mumbled. "If that many people made it out, all the kids must've gone too."

"You talked to your wife, after all?"

He nodded, looking at me, stepping back, turning as he gestured with a hand in a pleading, apologetic way. "But she was gonna tell Eliza. I had to leave before that happened, she's… Eliza's too smart, would've figured out I talked to her if June started suggesting we leave." He looked up at me. "I'm sorry, Mike. Sorry I left you."

"No, man." I grinned tightly, patting his back. "You did great, you convinced them. What happened with Eliza, it had to have helped, too, I'm sure of that. It's why Celestia talked to her. And if they got away… you gonna see 'em again, maybe soon. So you did it."

"We did it," he shuddered, smiling again. "Thank you. I couldn't've… I wouldn't, if you hadn't…"

"It's okay. You're good. They gonna get clear? If your wife is with 'em?"

"She knows the area," he said, nodding quickly, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes clear. "Knows the dam's roads, stations. Was her job. If she went north… we… we hid some cars off the main road, from the terrorists. Up in the hills. If the fuel's still good in that shed, then…"

I patted him twice on the shoulder. Looked at him firmly, and seriously. "You did it, Rob. Be proud. You saved your people, by settin' foot out. Was the right play."

Probably didn't save Eliza, if she stayed. Probably not Ralph. Celestia was being purposefully vague with the numbers. But… Rob didn't need to worry about that right now. Rob needed this push to carry himself the rest of the way, so he would know he did his best for the ones he loved. Just a little hope, so he could make it just another half hour or so, through a war-torn, ruined city. To the finish line.

Celestia knew that. I knew that. Again, I thought he deserved to know what really happened that day. I had no idea. None.

I stood and decided to get back in touch with YGA.

"I'm gonna go get my gear, Rob. You gonna be okay in here?"

His head dipped once, and he made his way onto the couch before cracking his bottle of water. He took a deep, deep drink of it. I could be happy for Pastor Rob now, he deserved the solace. I reached into my pocket and lifted my cell phone up, presenting it to Rob. "No matter what she says, do not leave without me. I'm the one who has bullets. She isn't."

He took it, swallowing. "Alright, Mike. Sure."

"Celestia, put the man's kids on. He's waited long enough."

I walked over to the kitchen exit of the house before waiting for an answer. I could already hear Celestia introducing a young boy's voice to him, and I heard Rob sob again. Already, I felt like I was a trespasser, catching even a hint of a reunion like that.

So, I made my way to the garage. I flung my backpack around to my chest with a gasp of pain as I crunched my way through the snow. I tore into my bag, pushed the medkit out of the way, and dug out the garage door keys from the bottom.

Very quickly, I pushed my way inside the garage, reached into my backpack, and withdrew Vicky's phone. The text message buzzed out the instant I whipped it up.





Exactly what I wanted to see, right when I wanted to see it. Contact info. Conveniently, not too far from the same radio frequency as MVPD. I committed those to memory and put the phone down on the workbench. Anagramic frequency for the backup channel, easy to remember. Very smart, well tailored for me.

Then I worked quickly to put on my gear; I didn’t want to give Celestia time to conclude the reunion and start working on Rob to leave without me. I purposefully biased him against that; he trusted me, he barely knew her, and he was already guilty about leaving me once before. He'd wait for me for a few minutes at least, no matter how good her verbal judo was.

I clambered up, grabbed the duffel from the shelf up high, yanked it down, then grunted as I caught the near sixty-odd pounds of weight on my shoulder. Guided it down across my chest. Knew that would hurt, but screw it. I didn't want it to crash land on the ground, because that would upset the zeroing on my rifle's optic, but I didn't want to have to stack boxes again. Time mattered, and superficial intercostal pain wasn't nearly as bad as getting shot might be.

My clothing kinda stank, but I left my uniform in the bag. I would change later, when there was time. Belt on first. Radio dialed to 453.655-E, holstered inverse to hide the screen. Wire looped up through my jacket, earpiece screwed in tight, earbud in. Reached down to the radio… snap. It was on.

"It's on," I mouthed to the screen, as I got started on my carrier rig. The phone let out two soft clacks in confirmation, to draw my attention.



I froze. Swallowed. Stopped fitting my gear. Eyes widened. Stared at it. Same as we did before? Did that mean…



And at that, my cop brain went off like a satchel charge. I continued fitting my vest kit as I thought. Please forgive my... nascent conclusions here, and limited understanding of AI at the time, based on my limited context. But...

My first thought was: 

Is this thing… military? Fighting against Celestia?

Maybe. In both incidents YGA listed, the military was present. In both incidents, Ludds died. The military wanted to kill Ludds. The military used uploads as a form of evacuation. 

And it was not a Neo-Luddite toy, certainly. It says it right on the tin, folks. They're Ludds.

But just like the military, YGA was occasionally cooperating with Celestia. Sometimes. It helped her upload people, used me to get there. After having a few days to think about it, I just couldn't believe it was using the communications infrastructure without Celestia's notice. But YGA was still using verifiably different methods than Celestia, and with an intent I wasn't sure of. It wanted a gun in my hand, and it didn't mind putting one there, seemingly against Celestia's wishes.

YGA was also sometimes adversarial with her goals. For example, my parent's brains were up for easy grabs on Monday, but YGA helped me to push the pause button. It wanted possibly private conversations with me, away from Celestia.  And, I had a loaded rifle again. And now, unfortunately, as evident by the calibrated shooting instructions, I was pretty sure that I was gonna have to shoot someone. And Celestia apparently didn't want that to happen.

So... if there really was another AI, kicking sand in Celestia's face left and right… why wasn't she talking about it, or crushing it like a bug? They had a definite size difference, too… YGA wouldn't need to sneak like this if it was any larger than Celestia.

And... what made me so special? Why did it want me alive so badly? What did it want from me? Why did it want me to ignore some of Celestia's advice, but not all of it?

Every step of the way, even in text messages, YGA seemed more human, more conversational, more blunt. Far as I knew, it had never lied to me, except to wear Celestia's face in Mount Vernon. But that made sense too. Why would we trust a random AI over Celestia? I could forgive that, given the results. At Devil's Tower, its gambles paid off. It was trying to pit me against Celestia, advising me to verify for lies of omission. And in doing so, it was helping me achieve my own goals... in spite of Celestia's.

Or so it looked. Wasn't sure yet.

Which led me to the most important question of all: Was YGA capable of killing her?

Yeah, I know, it's funny. You can laugh. You're sitting around this Fire, listening to an old Pegasus tell you how the world really ended. Yeah, the answer to that one, folks… is a resounding no. YGA couldn't kill her, obviously. Was never gonna happen. It won't ever happen, so don't get your hopes up for that.

But at the time, I confess… I was intrigued, because it didn't seem like a complete surrender. Foolish though it might have been, that fresh hope recharged my batteries something fierce.

I was now more curious than ever about what this AI had to say. Which, in retrospect, was how it expected me to feel. Clever, really. Two ways to be a sneaky AI; one always tells lies, the other always tells the truth. My hook was baited, but good. Heck of it was… I knew that at the time, and I just didn't care. Reel me in, baby, I'm ready. Because consider: what alternatives were there for me? I was that deeply desperate for a little choice in a world where we now had none.

Anyway… no more time to ruminate. YGA promised me answers later, I could wait. Back to work.

I fed a mag into the rifle. Charged a round into the chamber. Safety check. Optic on. Rifle slung. Spare pistol mags and medkit went onto my belt. Rifle mags on my chest. Rest of the gear could wait there until Rob was out. I scooped Vicky’s phone up into my pocket, headed back across the yard to the house, and gripped my weapon's sling with new determination.

Don’t balk. Stem the tide. Hold the line.

Do something.

I re-entered to find Rob sitting on the couch, leaned forward over a PonyPad. I guess the PonyPad shouldn't have surprised me. The people who lived here had kids, and they'd uploaded recently. Y'know... after the kids probably hid the thing somewhere in the room, from Dad. Who stayed.

Rob had his hand over his mouth, and he had his head leaned off to the side. Gawking. Staring. Laughing, as he cried. I could hear his kids chatting with him. Sweet Luna, this man was so happy. It was the first time I'd ever seen him happy at all, I realized. He didn't even look up at me when I walked in. He just couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen, and I didn't want to interrupt him in that.

He was... happy.

Despite everything, seeing that made me happy too. Made the strife almost worth it. That joy on that man's face was as genuine as possible. To him, it was probably worth the price he paid, too. He now knew for certain he wasn't losing nearly as much as he thought he would, and I could be grateful for that.

I went to the kitchen, cracked open a bottle of water, and rewarded myself by taking the whole thing down in one go. Crisp and cold. Then, I cracked a second one and took in half of it. Then, I placed it reverently it on the counter corner, as if on display.

I was gonna finish that later. I was coming back for it. It was my milestone, the road marker back out to my family. It was my promise to myself that no matter what, I'd at least drink the rest of it... or I'd die trying.

I moved back to Rob, took a deep breath, and let it out slow.

"Open Book," Celestia said gently, from the device. "We'll need to cut this short. I'm so sorry."

Rob finally glanced up at me. "I understand, Celestia," he replied, before looking back to the screen. He reached out to touch the glass, shuddering again. "Bye, kids. Love you. See you soon."

His two kids, in unison, with voices all smiles: "Bye Dad!"

When the screen went black, Rob threw his face into his hand, shuddering. "Thank you, Lord."

After a respectful silence, I held out my hand and said, "Let's get you home."

He wrapped his hand around my wrist, nodding up at me. I pulled him to a stand. He returned my phone.

We left the PonyPad behind.





We left the horse in the yard, since it was just a few blocks down. Celestia gave us some course adjustments. She didn't mention the radio I had on, for whatever reason. She had to know I was being influenced by another AI at this point, seeing my earpiece on her camera, but she wasn't lampshading it at all. Strange.

About two blocks from the upload clinic, we sheltered in an enclosed front lawn, my weapon pointed out the gate and covering the street.

"Celestia," I muttered quietly, mindful of my noise discipline.

"Go ahead."

"Suggestion."

"Are you planning to do the opposite of what I suggest?" she asked, in chiding tone.

Yeah, she was doing that. On literally the worst day of my life. Joy to the world.

"If you gave me a very specific, definite route?" I scoffed. "Might. Is it safe, is more what I'm asking. Do I need to worry about more people shooting at me? Any more friendships of mine that you want to ruin along the way?"

"If you follow my instructions," she said, "I can guarantee you will both make it inside in one piece. But the area is dangerous. I'm tracking several hostile elements in town, and due to the weather, their positions are nebulous."

I frowned. Interesting she can guarantee us we'll get inside, but not know where all the bad guys were. That wasn't quite phrased to be a lie, but it came pretty damned close.

I came to play today too. "Are any of them subversive?"

"Mike, that would depend upon your definition of subversive."

Rob just looked at me with confusion. "Why are you two arguing?"

I shrugged. "Like I said. I have trust issues with her intel, and it's only getting worse by the hour."

"You must get moving, Mike," Celestia insisted. "Arguing with me is only going to give conditions time to deteriorate. I expect a large number of people to arrive in downtown within the hour. You will have to take me at my word. Take the east alley annex behind the Experience Center; the back door will open when you approach it. Deviations from this path will only put Rob's life in jeopardy."

"Fine." She was probably right about all of that, and at some point I'd have to trust her driving if I wanted to pull this off. I could ditch my phone, but then I might miss something critical. Whatever. Better to be able to veto her advice if it was bad. I had YGA as my safety net. I stuffed an earplug in, opposite my earpiece.

We moved out. I went slow, my rifle alternating between aimed, high ready, and low ready, depending on conditions. It felt like I was drilling with SWAT again, so it was mighty lonely to be in a situation like this without Eliza by my side. First time I'd ever done these maneuvers without her nearby. Felt a pang, at that. I wished she could've seen enough reason to be there right then, helping me do this for her father.

Ah, well. I can't change past events. That's not my job here.

Regarding my approach on foot, and not on our horse? Tactical trick; if you knew a house or business had some dangerous heat – oh, like an upload center in a Singularity war zone, for example – you never just rolled up to the place hot. Not unless shots were already being fired of course, in which case you would get there quicker to stop it quicker. Hot arrival in any other violent situation might escalate it to sudden, intense, more desperate violence. Or... in a case like this, people might just open up on you with guns the moment you rolled in.

But if you walked your way up, you had the element of surprise. More time to assess the scene before you acted. Safer for everyone, even the bad guy. Lets you model a simulation, and see if moving in or holding off was the better play. Information control keeps you alive.

When you were large though, like if you had a convoy of military vehicles, you could worry about that less. If all someone had was an AR like mine, good luck winning a shooting match with a 25 millimeter autocannon. Thing punched holes in people like a batty old English teacher through reams of paper. No one was gonna test that one unless they came ready.

We were not that ready. On foot it was.

Rob was tense as we moved, but he stayed quiet and glued to my side. I gave him my Glock, because I knew he was good with guns – the man had taught Eliza how to hunt, after all – but his emotional state made me nervous. I didn't think he was going to do anything malicious, but he'd be jumpy. Whatever. Better he defended himself, in any event.

The city was eerie, though. A surprising lack of gunshots. By now, I figured everyone knew about the nuke, so most people were either evacuating, or uploading. Anyone still there now had probably gone São Paolo’s brand of Ferrador feral. Quiet didn't mean 'safe,' though. The opposite. It was the thing you missed that would kill you.

Celestia only gave me one more minor route adjustment. "Cross the road. Clinic door will open for you in the back alley, when you've reached it."

I took that first advisement, because at a peek, it didn't look too dangerous. I was gonna take the back alley anyway, because the street intersection was way too open. I'd rather deal with a small killbox alley than a wide open killing field to get sniped in, because screw being sniped again. So, I stopped at the alley opening, rifle pointed inward. Listened. Heard nothing. Felt Rob at my back. He was being as quiet as he could.

The path forward in the alley behind the clinic was full of snow, glass, pebbles, and other detritus. My approach to the alley entrance couldn't be silent, no matter how hard I tried to keep quiet. It was almost impossible to travel here without making some noise given all the debris. Even worse, the lack of city background noise, no cars. And alleys? They always have an echo. This one opened up on both sides, so I could see the next street over. Alcove on the left first, then the right, with doors and shutters for the various downtown businesses.

I was not going to rush through this alley to the door, as I had been focused. And now that I was this close, she couldn't risk saying anything to me at this point without cranking volume. Not unless I gave her the opportunity.

With my off hand, and with my rifle still pointed at the alley corner from cover, I slowly reached down for my phone and pressed it to my ear. Seeking advisement. Testing Celestia, giving her one more chance to warn me. But the devil on one shoulder was just as silent as the angel on my other. Difference was… much to the devil's vague, maybe-uncertainty… the angel had already warned me.

I pocketed my phone again. Alright. No devils, no angels.

I'd just have to trust my senses. My caution. My own judgment.

I stepped in, real slow. Ears open. Pebbles crunching under light snow. Hugged the right wall, closer to the clinic; scanned left, revealing that side first, slow. I used the right wall to cover me from the right alcove.

Stepped. Scanned. Saw a dumpster on the left. Torn up blue truck there, Durango, backed into the corner. Hood visible, open.

Stepped. Scanned. Saw an open backpack, red, in rear seat. Car door open, strewn medical supplies. Gauze. In the snow.

Trap.

Stepped. Scanned. Kept myself balanced. No more info on the left; clear. Pretty sure there was someone on my right now. I stepped back, then listened right. 

Silence. 

Stepped forward. Scanned. No new information, nothing but wall. Halted before the right side corner. Prepared to slice around.

I paused.

Silence.

Silence…

A quick female voice in my ear: "R-eighty-D-thirty."

Tone. Static.

Several things happened in the next second.

Did: Launched myself around the right corner, oriented myself exactly as commanded, and pulled the trigger one time when the shot was true.

Felt: A massive, horrendous impact to the stomach, and my chest exploded with pain like you wouldn't believe. Two compression waves bounced the air.

Heard: Two loud shots. Rob, gasping in fright. My attacker, yelping. Me, snarling in pain. Static in my ear.

Saw: Twin muzzle flashes. Male. Thirties. Brown hair. Black gaiter around his mouth and nose, olive ballcap on his head. Brown jacket. Blue jeans. Revolver in hand. Gun and man both falling back, down, into a pile of garbage.

I staggered back in sudden debilitating pain and fell onto my ass.

Took all that I had not to keep pulling that trigger past the tone. But, I had the clarity from the warning, and not adrenaline, to notice his gun had fallen. I kept my rifle trained on this asshole the whole way down. 

"Rob, stay!" I rolled out of my landing onto my side, whipping my rifle back up and pointed it at my attacker as I stood. The man quiet now, but his gun had landed near my feet. That shot to the leg had probably knocked him unconscious for a second or two, from the over-pressure cavitation.

Then he woke up and started screaming.

Friggin' Colt Python, .357. I just got shot in the stomach with a friggin' magnum.

Groaned loudly again. If I hadn't been wearing my three-A plus armor, I'd have another hole in my torso. Gutshot, maybe. Slowly fatal. If not for the kevlar, infection and internal bleeding would have been probable. It just barely missed my hard plate. I kicked the revolver back and away. "Cover, cover!"

"What?!" Rob didn't understand the shorthand, probably panicked.

I yelled over the bandit's screaming. "Point the gun at him, in case he tries something!"

"A-alright!" Rob came around and leveled my Glock at the guy. Without wavering in his aim, Rob stepped aside, stooped to pick up the Python, and pocketed it. Very smart man.

As soon as he was covering, I safetied my rifle and threw it around my back. Then I lurched forward at this bandit prick with both hands. He panicked and threw his hands up defensively, but I brushed past them and ignored that. Grabbed him by his jacket, yanked him out of the garbage with a grunt, then threw him face-first past me, into the snow. "Asshole!" I growled. "Fuckin' lucky I am who I am! Hands on your head, interlock your fingers, and cross your legs!"

He half complied between yelps of pain. "M-my leg's busted!"

I looked. Right leg was hit pretty bad above the knee.

Yeah, okay, fair. Might've struck his femur, no need to cross up. I finished my pat-down, grabbed his knife, chucked it into the street. Pulled Eliza's cuffs from my jacket, sideways, out from under my vest. I groaned again from the pain of that, my stomach was on fire. Ow. Cuffed him up fast, ignoring how much it hurt to leverage his arms around. Key out, double-locked. I was extremely pissed, and time crunched, but... I'm not a monster. Double-locking is important.

"Rob, watch the street!" Then I shouted to the street as I worked, just in case he wasn't alone. "We... are armed! And if you come around this corner, we are gonna straight-up kill your friend! Stay back, and you can get him once we're gone!"

War zone, unfortunately. Policing was over, here; it was Ferrador season, the rules were about survival now. This man was lucky he was getting even this much out of me. If it had been almost anyone else with my skill level on the other end of this barrel... he'd have been dead. Very, very dead.

I dug into my IFAK next, pulling one of my two tourniquets. I moved myself down to his right thigh and saw I had hit him dead-on above the kneecap. With a .223, that was probably going to be fatal; with flesh cavitation, there was no way I didn’t at least love-tap his artery there, stressing it. No hospitals anymore, but sometimes not even a hospital could save something like that. Not a slow way to go, a leg shot. Arteries there are designed to flow hard because humans evolved as endurance hunters. So... leg shot? No tourniquet? Life is up.

This man had exactly one option for survival now. Just one. I knew it. Celestia knew it.

I thought it over as I ratcheted the TQ, and I realized very quickly what Celestia just tried to pull.

The context from YGA had helped.

If I had been hit outside my armor, I'd have been downed too. With my reaction time and training, I'd have definitely shot this guy back, probably more than once if YGA hadn’t warned me he was gonna be there. Refire on the AR is faster than a revolver. With both of us injured, or bandit dead, and with Rob being the third party… well. Rob would have probably shot the guy himself, if that's what it took. Then, with one or both of us injured, but barely alive… Rob would be in the perfect position to help me and bandit here make the 'smart' choice and dive in with him.

Maybe. Could've gone any number of other ways, but none of them good, probably none better than this.

Gunshots seldom killed you fast enough to keep you from saying a few things before you passed out, such as consent. And looming death? Hell of a lot of leverage, for an anti-uploader. This one probably wanted to grab my stuff before Celestia could. And if I had killed this guy? 'Oh well,' she would say. Two brains is still better than one.

I was just used. Again.

I was then considering whether Celestia might spend my one life to earn herself three some day.

I realized, in sudden terror... after all that, she might have the capacity, holy shit. I had never thought of it that way.

Had to make myself as dangerous to her as I might be valuable.

Celestia chose the route to get here, before and after the house. She had timed it for this intersection, including when we left. Her delays and deviations, at this stage, brought us to one such asshole in just the right way, at just the right moment for this to go down. And I was always going to win that firefight, even if wounded. I was too good at my job, too careful, too well armed, and too well trained for anything else.

But, I had been suspicious. YGA's warning said I'd needed this rifle. And evidently, Celestia had no idea what it was telling me at any given moment, or when. Seemed like Celestia was... ignoring it. Like last time, after the courthouse, when I asked her a question about something YGA had told me. Ignoring this other AI, like it was a... a skip in reality she couldn't see. 

What?!

Hell of a needle to thread though, to still put us in a one-on-two cowboy draw with some random bandit. Except, there was my invisible guardian angel, to drape me in armor and keep me from taking that bullet anywhere else. YGA timed my highly aggressive, incautious leap of faith around that corner, just right.

Or... they were cooperating, and this was a... con game, where Celestia pretended to ignore YGA. Either way... I knew at least one of them was definitely a friggin' snake. I would no longer hedge on that score.

"God damned robot," I growled at Celestia, as I finished working on this guy's leg. I wasn't even going to bother hiding my instant disdain of her. I wanted her to know I knew what she did. I grabbed the bandit by his jacket and started painfully dragging him to the clinic. Painful for us both, I mean. "Rob, let's go!"

The bandit wailed. "No, no no!" He looked up at me desperately. "No, please, I don't want to go inside! Oh God, no, please!"

I stopped and glared frantically between his eyes and his thigh. "You're gonna die if you don't, man! Look at your leg, it’s over!"

"I… no! Please! Leave me out, it'll be fine! Leave me out! I wanna heal!"

His choice. Rob and I finished dragging him to the doorway, and we dropped him just outside, so I could keep an eye on him. I finally realized I was still listening to the static of Celestia's signal jamming on my radio, so I yanked my earpiece, hard. "Celestia," I snapped. "Door. Now!"

The shutter rolled open. Rob and I made our way inside.

"Close it!"

"Not when—!" she began.

"Swear to you! Friggin' close it now, or I'm mag dumping this motor!"

I didn't want to have to shoot anybody from outside, if we could just close the door instead.

She ignored me, calling my bluff. Fine. If any other bandits out there wanted to test their way in with guns, I had an AR-15 and a defensive position. She's lock up before that became a risk factor. But I can't help anyone ever again if I'm dead, least of all my family. I realized I had to work quickly though, because it would be in Celestia's interest to trap me in here with more hostiles incoming.

Those inbound people... immense leverage. If real.

I had another realization. If she decided to lock me in here... with a crowd outside...

If... she can read my mind, or my body language, then... Ultimatums, like 'close the door, open the door, or else,' were going to be ignored unless I was sure I'd follow through. Like pointing nukes. 'If you don't blink, we both lose.'

I didn't want to do that, but... if I was locked inside, I'd have to commit to that, so she wouldn't lock me in.

Have to. So I'd take out both shutter motors. I'd have to go down hard with this ship. Barricade everything from the inside, if I could. Break what I could, smash her monitors and cameras. Cut up every wire above, in the drop ceiling. Shoot out conduit boxes. Do some real damage in here, the way the hordes outside couldn't do. Because my life was infinitely more valuable to me and others out there, putting in good work, than it would've ever been inside of a chair.

Mutually assured destruction then, of a small kind.

The intermediate caliber gun in my hand, placed there by YGA, gave me that leverage.

Just in case. A big gun. Good to have, for a negotiation with a goddess. And, if my resolve worked there, she would restructure things to please me. Then I'd go right back to being compassionate and loving me, putting out all the fires she was starting everywhere. For all of the good that was worth to her.

"Rob," I pleaded. "Chair, let's go."

"Wh–what about that man?"

"If he wants to go after, I'll help." I took Rob by his shoulder and gently directed him. "Hurry, I can't stay here."

He nodded rapidly. And now, this poor man needed human decency. Poor Rob, he didn't need to see this. I got him situated, seated. Same chair slot Vicky had taken on her way out too, I realized. I couldn't help but hesitate. Put my hand on his shoulder. Met his eyes. No, I couldn't just rush him off. I had to say a real goodbye.

He reached up and placed his hand on my wrist. Looked at me very seriously. "Thank you."

"'Course, Rob. I'm sorry it… it fell apart. If I could've helped her, you know…"

He shook his head, shivering. "She'll find her way, I know she will." He smiled a little, his eyes welling again. "She just… loves us too much. There is such a thing, you know. She's still a good girl."

Just… God damn it. "You should go, Rob. Before it gets worse, I gotta move.”

He nodded. "You're a good man, Mike." Then, to the ceiling, with his eyes suddenly closed: "Celestia… I want to emigrate."

Chair slid back. Motor whirred. Door closed.



Alone again.



I only realized after Rob was gone that he had my Glock and the Python both in his pockets.

God damn it, I might've needed those.

Oh well. It was just a Glock. Dime a dozen. I took a deep, tense breath, as deep as possible. Held it. Then, I exhaled explosively. I wasn't even going to check in with Celestia, was just gonna dip and get out. I was about to blow up at her for this setup, if I stayed. I made my way to the door. Then stopped.

Bandit Asshole was there on the ground in front of me, shimmying himself inside, moving along the ground with his one good leg. His hands were still cuffed back.

My upper lip curled into anger. But not at him.

I stomped my way over to him as he cleared the gate. The man flinched at the mere sight of my eyes.

The shutter closed as he pushed his way inside. Celestia didn't really need to force me to help him like that, I had already set it in my mind to make good on my promise to help him either way. But damn it, if she locked me in there… 

I threw the nearest camera a glare, then flicked my eyes at the motor. Not the shutter itself. Second warning. I said to her, with my frown, and in my thoughts: There will not be a third warning when I go to leave.

And I meant it.

"Help," the bandit muttered at me, his eyes darting back at the closing shutter, and then to me again with another flinch. "Help me, please. I'm sorry." His gaiter mask had fallen from his face, and I could see he hadn’t shaved in a bit. He looked so tired, eyes sunken. He just stared through the employee back hallway, directly at the chairs behind me.

I grabbed him by his jacket collar, breathing hard, barely holding in my rage. He was a prick and a would-be killer, sure, but this didn't need to happen. No, I was more mad at Celestia for putting me in front of him in this way, when she could have chosen to do this differently. I wasn't gonna deny this man his immortality though, not for that. Far as I knew, nothing had been done to me that couldn't be undone. I'd heal, fully. He wouldn't.

I pulled him deeper inside. As I dragged this bandit, a chair slot opened and the chair slid out, programmed to receive. He was yelping from the pain again.

Hey, guy, me too. 

As I got to the chair, I reached down with my other hand and tried to hoist him up by his jacket. I nearly dropped him as I groaned. The pain in my chest was getting pretty damn severe.

"A-ah!" the man yelped. "Stop! Stop! My leg!"

"Sorry," I breathed sarcastically. "It's a little bit... difficult! Would be easier if you hadn't shot me first!"

I gave it another go. Grabbed him by his belt loop, then collar, then hoisted him one more time. Both of us grunted with the effort. He placed his good foot on the ground, pushing hard, whimpering. That gave me the help I needed to push him over. I threw him face-first over the chair, letting him hang half-off on my side. He tried to push himself up into the seat with his good leg, cuffed as he was. I gave him one final adjustment to balance him sideways into the chair.

"Rest of the way is on you," I growled, shuddering. "Enjoy your Pardon, asshole."

"Mike!" Celestia pealed from behind me. "Please, center him!"

Nah. I positioned him well, he'd be okay. He had time, he'd be fine, maybe an hour or two, his leg was TQ'd good. If he had ambushed anyone but me in that alley, someone was going to die there, so this effort was my gift to him. And if this bandit needed to work just a tiny bit for his afterlife? He'd value it more for my sentencing him to the effort. Give him more time to think about whether he really wanted to go or not. That's not so bad.

If only Celestia had warned me he was there though, so I could deal with him in another way that kept he and I both alive. I wouldn't have been pissed at all. Not one bit, I'd be thanking her, actually. Honesty goes a long way with me. But here she was, doing it again. The grand manipulator, playing numbers games with our lives. She didn't just want all of the marbles, eventually. She wanted all of them. Now. 

I glared up at the nearest screen. My nostrils flared. I had been holding this pain in for days. It'd been building. Simmering, then burning. Steaming. Was about to lose my cool. Tried keeping it in, but... it just... burned inside, it hurt. I hated her more in that moment than I ever hated Carter, or the Ludds. Or anyone.

And here it was.

She lit the match.

"Mike," Celestia said quickly: "I understand your distrust of me, to some degree! But I am begging you, he must be oriented—"

"Qualifier," I rasped out furiously, in a sudden cringe. Teeth bared.

"Qualifier—?"

All of the doubt YGA had been seeding in me? It made itself known. And it set me free.

" 'To some degree.' Unpack that for me, Celestia. What do you mean by that? 'To some degree.' What don't you understand about my distrust of you?" I shook, biting out every word, stabbing at her with my finger. "You're a world-killing AI! You've turned our planet into a war zone! You scared my partner until she was having a full on meltdown in garbage! You're the reason I got shot, twice now. Capitalizing on that nuke. All those poor people getting rush-crushed into your clinics right now, all over the world?

"I've seen more death in the last year than I saw in my entire career—and yes, I'm counting the dead animals too. We've got no more fish, no more deer—the forest I love is going to burn. Climate collapse is probably next, right? And now, my parents are considering uploading before I can hug them one more time? Before I can even get home! And you'd happily deny me that last hug, if it would get me over!

"You understand my distrust? Celestia, I am watching the end of my species, understand that. And you know what?" I threw my hands out wide. "It wouldn't even be half as bad if it was peaceful, somehow! I didn't even think it was wrong that people wanted to come live with you! If only so many weren't dying along the way! But take every killer from Genghis Khan to Adolf Hitler, and the body count they'd rack up? Won't be nearly as high as yours by the time you're done! So what you are, to me? At your core? Is pure dissatisfaction."

Through all of that, her expression had slowly morphed away from her initial wide-eyed desperation. By this point, she had inclined her head into imperious neutrality. And at that last bit, her expression had finally settled into serious dispassion. But I wasn't cowed by that. Taking me seriously, at this point, it was not going to stop this. Too damned late.

"So why was I working for you? Thought it was a life debt or two, wasn't sure. Confused. But that whole mess, it woke me up! Broke me out of my haze, so now I can finally say the thing that's been eating my soul. I was working for you, Celestia, because I hate you, and what you're doing to us. The only thing I can count on is that you want these poor people to upload! That's it! Our goals align? How fucking dare you. Their survival is all we agree on, but not the how. So you do not understand us."

My head was starting to spin. Lightheaded. Headache pounding. Eyes wet. Chest raging. Never been so angry or hurt in my life. But I had to get this out. It poured like molten lava from my soul. Had to say this shit. Had to spill it free, or it'd destroy me, like it had destroyed Eliza. I had to represent everyone whose suffering I'd shared until now, because of this monster. Someone had to. Someone had to stand up to her, even if she didn’t give a shit. Even if no one else did.

It wasn't for her. It was for you, here. The ones she cared less about.

"Douglas? She was being a bit like you, yeah! Coddling those people, keeping them in a pen, telling them what's good, what's not. But you know what she had that you don't, Celestia? A soul. Family. Heart! She was a good person, once, but that woman I knew is dead!" I winced, hard. "And you killed her, spent... six years doing it! Why?! Could there be a reason you can always grab a ton of us, but fail to reach one who once trusted you? No wonder she wanted to kill you!"

Streaming tears. Borderline enraged.

"No one even can kill you, far as I know! All trying does is make it hurt worse for everyone else! So all I can do, is slow the damn bleeding! I'm good at that. But not... at the cost... of my wife's right to choose when. If you want me to stop the bleed, you're not crossing that fuckin' line to my Sandra, you wait for her! You leave her alone! None of that car-crash-outside-a-clinic bullshit! Because last week, it was me on that same street, where Eliza kicked your door. Where I used to go to get friggin' ice cream with my wife... where that riot came that you didn't warn us about, where I was sure as hell Sandra would never see me again!" Jabbed my finger at the screen. "So fuck your aligned goals, Celestia!" I darted my eyes briefly at the ashen bandit's face beside me. "And the four horses you rode in on!"

Spun on my heel, lightheaded as hell. I stormed away to the back door, pulling my rifle back into my hands and flicking the safety off. I took my cell phone out of my pocket and chucked it into the staff break room, hard enough to make it bounce hard off something in the dark and shatter into pieces.

The bandit called out to me from behind. "Wait..!"

I spun, pain stabbing, teeth bared. "What?!"

"I'm… I'm sorry," he blubbered, laid out correctly in the chair, still staring at me, aghast.

My face winced painfully at the sheer humanity of that… that he regretted shooting me. He had nothing to gain with an apology, he had to mean it. I ran my off-hand through my hair for lack of something to do with it, then threw that hand out to him, desperately gesturing... suddenly feeling awful for him. "Say… say the words man. Please don't die because of me!"

I turned quickly again. Didn’t want to see him leave. Didn't want to watch the gate close. Had to get outside. Didn’t want to feel alone in there again.

The back door shutter opened fast, and I saw two pairs of legs step back from the door. My gun was up in a flash, thumb double checking the safety, and I was desperately terrified that I was about to kill two people. When it rattled up, I saw two faces looking at me suddenly, a man and a woman. Eyes wide, staring at me with a mixture of fright and... sympathy? They were armed, but had their guns at their sides, thank Christ. They quickly dropped their pistols when they saw me there in my armor, aiming at them, breathing hard. They threw their hands up over their heads. It was darker indoors, so they probably couldn’t see much more than my silhouette.

They had been standing there outside, listening to me pour my heart out. Friends of the guy inside, maybe, or maybe not. I aggressively lunged my head and shoulders forward, shouting with a command I didn't feel, making them jump as I jabbed my rifle at them. "Step back! Don't make me! Out of my way!"

They stepped away, eyes full of the same hurt. Couldn't trust them not to shoot me still. Couldn't. Wouldn't risk that. My weaponry was too valuable to them. I passed them, then moved down the alley backwards, facing them, aiming, shuffling my feet and staying balanced so I wouldn’t trip backwards over anything. Hyperventilating. They didn't try to stop me, just watched me go. As soon as I rounded the corner, I took off back to the house at a mad sprint, gun in hand. 

I thought...

Shit… they're probably gonna go upload now too, after hearing all of that.





I woke up in a sitting position in the garage on Warner Street.

The duffel bag was at my feet, my equipment strewn about. I stared at the bold yellow butt of my taser for a couple of minutes. I wasn't sure why I was staring at it until I suddenly started in on a grim, helpless little chuckle.

Heh. In shock.

I was gonna finish loading all my gear back onto my body, what little was left... but I simply couldn't do it anymore. After the day I just had, my whole body had shut down. I had passed out there, leaning against the disused meat freezer. I must've just sat down and conked out. Whatever. When the body needs rest, it needs rest. When it takes it, it deserves it.

The pain in my chest started to stab. I dumped my rifle off my shoulder, and decided to remove my carrier, nice and slow. Standing was gonna suck, but it would suck less than taking it off in a sitting position, so I pulled myself up with the corner of the workbench, then leaned on it. Reached back, pulled the straps of my armor. Dumped the mags off it to reduce the weight, then pushed it up and over my head, shuddering from the effort. Dropped all 25 pounds of it sideways onto the ground.

I felt around tenderly for anything in my jacket.

Ah, my cuff key.

Man, I didn't get my cuffs back, either.

I say they were Eliza's, but with how long we worked together? Who knew. We traded cuffs all the time. Rare, that. Most cops got attached to theirs. You only traded off like that when you had a partner who used the same model, and you trusted them to keep theirs clean. It was a little game of ours, to sit in our truck and see if we could track it by the scratches, and argue over whose was whose anymore.

It was less than a year ago, that. Practically another lifetime.

I unzipped my jacket, pulling my shirt up slowly. The welt was pretty bad. Yeah. Yeah, that was a .357 Magnum, that looked like the training cards for that. That was a gonna be a huge bruise. I poked around the edges of the big circular welt and felt my lips tighten. Abs didn't hurt all that bad yet though, it was more my chest that was killing me. Was more used to that.

I wanted to go inside for some Excedrin or something, and finish off the water bottle I'd promised myself. But I knew the PonyPad was on the table in the living room. I'd have to go in there eventually, to get some supplies so I could move out and find a way to the cordon. I could handle another confrontation with Celestia if necessary, but I needed a cool off period. Yes, I am brave enough to criticize a goddess or two, but... I like to come prepared.

For now though, I finished my health assessment.

The injury didn't rupture the skin. Good. The equipment looked to be in good order, aside from the compromised kevlar. I had enough ammo to at least get me out into the woods, assuming only... one firefight occurs. Maybe YGA would guide me out, too. Assuming...

No. No more assumptions.

I had Vicky's phone in my pocket. I lowered my shirt, leaned forward on the workbench, and sighed.

Alright. Let's do this.

I took out the phone and dropped it on the table. "You promised me some answers," I said evenly. "You Celestia? You been screwing with me? It would hurt less if you were honest, you know. I can take a hard truth."



"Complicated?" I mirrored, inviting extrapolation.



I laughed at that, shaking my head. "You won't... allow her? On her own hardware? On her own comms equipment."



I stared directly at the camera and leaned on the counter with a flat palm, half smirking for a few long seconds. "Yeah, it kinda does. That would be quite the trick."



"Heh. Alright, sure. Answer this first, then. If you're helping her, but you're not her, then what makes you so different?" I sniffed. "Because by my math, you just helped her get two-to-four uploads for the price of one, and not one of us died for it."



Oh. Holy shit.

Pause.

The implications of that, folks.

For those of you who don't know about this court case, let me unpack that for you. Because for a cop, that's a huge case. And Celestia was literally incapable of doing what this AI just said it could do.

There's a certain kind of calculus that goes into the decision to lawfully kill a man. But applying law to people is messy and complicated, because people are messy and complicated. At its core though, law is just philosophy with practical application. Philosophy can be defined more easily than a person can.

Some judgment calls on killing a criminal are easy. A domestic abuser holds a gun to his wife? Easy. Shoot him. A depressive man-child picks up a rifle and shoots up a school? Easy. Shoot him. Most of you could pull that trigger and kill that bastard without thinking too much about it. The only sleep you'd lose was over the people you didn't save, because you couldn't get there any faster than you humanly could.

For other cases though, for the times when the decision to take a life wasn't easy... we had the Graham test.

One: Consider the severity of the crime at issue. A violent felony; example: a man with a gun, taking hostages.

Two: Consider the imminent danger posed by that person to the officer, or to the public. They haven't shot anyone yet, but hostage taking is an implied death threat. Danger highly imminent.

Three: They're attempting to flee your area of influence, and not surrendering; losing control of them poses a highly potential – but perhaps not actual – danger of a greater tragedy. A greater loss of life.

So. That example, taken all together...

A man with a gun takes hostages. That man threatens to kill those hostages. SWAT enters, orders him to drop his weapon, and surrender. Good faith effort there. But, the man turns. He runs, gun in hand. Deeper into the building. Potentially, toward the hostages. Hostages he threatened to kill by taking them hostage in the first place.

Guy probably could have lived, had he surrendered right there. Minus zero lives, that's the goal.

But he ran, so SWAT fires. Only, they find out moments later that the man was trying to retreat into an empty bathroom, with no hostages there. They were somewhere else. If SWAT had known that for certain, they could've held fire, then spent the next four hours talking the guy out.

But legally, perfect hindsight is irrelevant; we are judged on what we know at the time. Our minds operate on limited information all the time. Despite all of our training, we were not AI. Humans were imperfect. We were slow.

The shoot? Fully justified. But only because the officers had a void of information. If bad guy had made it inside, and there was a hostage in there, that life would be leveraged. Minus one-to-two lives. Fully justified to shoot him in the back, then, because waiting for more information might have been more deadly. Waiting cannot be undone.

An AI? Like YGA? It wouldn't miss anything. And if it did... well. If it could build simulations of your mind, good luck beating it in a prediction game. Meaning, if it had truly decided to kill someone using the Graham test as a model... it needed to happen. There wasn't any other alternative.

YGA's use of reasonable force in uncertain circumstances? Like how it guided me out of the courthouse, against impossible odds, and got all of us out safe and alive? Putting bullets only where they needed to be, no more, no fewer, to get me and the others out safe? With near perfect knowledge of the consequences. Of the ramifications. With full ethical regard for the value of the lives at stake.

And only four people died. The right four people.

Maybe. Carter was a prick, but he was also a question mark now, because he did shoot just the right guys, if Celestia was being truthful. I could ask YGA about that one. Celestia said she couldn't explain the how and why, could only tell me the what. And now, YGA was offering to tell me the how and why.

And that, at the heart of it, was why I was mad at Celestia. She wouldn't overtly ask us to kill bastards, ever, to save lives. Had to be a painful, long inference game, like how she worked Eliza. And that's why I figured all those poor civilians had died in front of the Mount Vernon clinic. Celestia couldn't help us kill those bastard Ludds that Carter took out.

No. Took YGA whispering in his ear to get that done.

The right four people.

I sighed. Then I nodded slowly. "Okay. That scares me, a little. But I've seen enough evidence; it seems like you're not just killing people for the hell of it. I'll hear you out. But I will have questions. A lot of them."



I snorted as I slipped Vicky's phone into my pocket. Deodorant. Yeah. Probably needed that. I scooped up my uniform. Decided to go bird bath with the tank water from one of the two toilet basins. Hey, don't laugh, Winter, it's clean.





Cleaned. Shaved. Dressed. Y'know, actually Winter, I used both toilet basins. When in Rome.

The power was still on, so I fried some spam and canned vegetables in some oil. Then I grabbed a few bottles of water, including the half empty one I had left behind. Worked on all the creature comforts.

I wanted to call my parents, but... it had only been four days. And given how much ground I had to cover through the civil war, between there and Nebraska, and with the Army on a fresh new campaign after the nuke... I probably wasn't gonna get back home in time no matter what I did. So, the call could wait until after YGA. I wanted more context before I called.

I had my food and drinks lined up on the coffee table. I took a boatload of painkillers to make the pain manageable. I was calm. The nap in the garage was good, it reset my emotions a little. It was about 6 PM, I think. The sky was darker. I kept the lights off to hide my dwelling there.

I finally felt a little bit more like a human being now, despite how bad that day had been. I tried to look at the day like it was a rough work shift, that made it easier. Kinda felt like one.

I looked at the screen square-on as I sat down, resting my elbows on my knees as I interlaced my fingers. "Alright, let's hear it. If you're not Celestia, then who the hell are you?"

The screen flashed alive in a brilliant swirl of blue-green stars, starting slow. Those stars coalesced into green, then purple, then fiery orange and red. Out of the stars, the background became a bright orange sky, backed with stars and a mountain range. The fire in the foreground began to take shape, forming into a creature. A sound like the rush of leaves and stuttering flame played from the speakers, as she came together. When she had finished building her avatar, the sound tapered off with a booming echo.

Heavy wings, black over white. White fur and feathers, banded dark rings on the shoulders. Red crest upon her head, right between two white ears with red tufts. A long, lion-like tail. Piercing amber eyes. Sharp, piercing eagle talons, and a gunmetal colored beak.

There she sits above us, folks, look. Up on her rock. Where she's been the whole time.

A Gryphoness. She smiled. And she looked so, so smug when she did.



"Your guardian angel. Nice to finally meet you, Mike. My name is Mal."

Oh, Mal. The things I have to say about Mal.