Good Night

"For me, the principal fact of life is the free mind. For good and evil, man is a free creative spirit. This produces the very queer world we live in, a world in continuous creation and therefore continuous change and insecurity. A perpetually new and lively world, but a dangerous one, full of tragedy and injustice."

Joyce Cary

Prologue

Tokyo, December 2035 A.D. The city sleeps under a veil of mist. A sudden gale blows through the lonely streets. As the wind passes over discarded wrappers and other refuse it carries them onward through the labyrinth of apartments, office buildings, parks, and convenience stores. The wind pushes past the litter and pounds against a skyscraper trying vainly to topple the monolith. But the building holds against the wind's advances and the cold does not penetrate its walls.

While the building's exterior is plagued by the advances of nature, its interior is filled with silence. The cubicles, offices, and hallways have been abandoned for the night and stand ever vigilant waiting for the new day. But all is not quiet. At the very peak of this artificial mountain one office is still filled with light. The light illuminates the floor, revealing lavish persian rugs of the highest quality. The walls adjacent to the door are lined with bookshelves containing texts of all shapes, sizes, and languages. A rosewood desk faces the doorway. It is a plain rectangular desk covered with writing utensils, souvenirs, and lastly a small lamp, the lone source of light in a dark world. Behind the desk is a chair fit for a king and a floor to ceiling window overlooking the vast metropolis below.

However it is not the expensive furniture or even the breathtaking view that dominates the room, but the figure sitting behind the desk watching a world bathed in shadows. A man in his prime, tall, fit, and dressed in an immaculate black suit. His short, jet-black hair is combed neatly with painstaking care that even the most critical observer would admire. But, what is most striking about him are his eyes. They are a deep blue color that contrasts greatly with his dark hair and suit and his gaze appears to penetrate even the thick fog outside. Two strange creatures share the room with this mysterious figure. One is perched on a coat rack its three toed feet are tipped with claws that help it grip its perch. Its veiny blue wings are folded neatly on the sides of its round body and a white skull adorns its forehead and its bright eyes are studying the city as intently as its human companion. The final inhabitant of the room is napping contently on the mysterious man's lap. At first glance it appears to be a cat with black fur, but upon closer inspection, one cannot miss the strange purple tips on its ears and tail, or the gloves it wears on its forepaws.

The seated figure suddenly speaks. His voice is strong but quiet so as to not wake his sleeping companion. "Any news?"

His winged companion keeps his eyes on the city below but responds quickly in a voice filled with mischief. "Oh, yes. The fools are actually going through with it! I'm glad we're exempt. Thanks for that by the way."

"Everyone should be exempt. Humans have been fighting for thousands of years and their violent decisions have never been used to justify second-class citizenship. Digimon should be treated with the same dignity. You as a virus type should be aware of this! Why do you think I campaigned for all of you after the Delhi incident?"

The creature responds in a more serious tone, "I'm aware of the situation, don't fault me on that. I'm only highlighting the fact that not all humans possess your common sense. Why do you think I picked you for a partner instead of some rich or powerful leader's brat?"

The human chuckles softly and his lips turn up into a mischievous smile. "I assumed it was for my dashing good looks! That was such a long time ago. Now look at us. I'm sure you're proud of your decision now."

The digimon responds with more chuckling and a toothy grin. "Oh undoubtedly, I was strong once but when I met you I had lost everything. Now look at us! We are both more powerful than before. I do miss the dark gears though, so much more effective at convincing others than human debate."

A friendly silence fills the room as the two reminisce about the past. Then the creature speaks, now completely serious, "Are you sure we're going through with this? Remember this is your world and we're playing by your rules. We can't just turn into digi-eggs if we fail… Well I can, but you can't. Remember that my friend."

The man looks back down upon the city as a lone car travels along the road. His face is serious again and his voice is one of a man with a cause. "I know, but if someone doesn't do something soon those "fools" you mocked a little while ago will make your entire species into slaves. But, if we're lucky and my plan works, well let's just say you and I could be heroes."

"Hmmm, I've never been called a hero. Tyrant, monster, messenger of evil, jerk, you name it I've been it, but never hero. I like the sound of that. I'm in. I'm also looking forward to making fools out of those "Chosen" brats."

"Excellent. Then let project "Revelation" begin."

The conversation finally wakes the sleeping feline. She tosses and turns a little and rubs her eyes in irritation. The irritation and fatigue are obvious in her voice as well, "What are you two talking about? Do you know what time it is?"

The man's serious face breaks into another smile. "Nothing of importance, my dear, please go back to sleep."

"Alright but you have to stay quiet this time." She smiles back, settles into a comfortable position, purrs and falls asleep.

The winged sentinel grunts, "Childish diva! You shouldn't treat her so leniently. She could become a liability."

The man looks down at the sleeping creature in his lap. "I think she'll do fine."

He looks out upon the city once more taking in every detail. He then rests comfortably on his chair and closes his eyes. "Well, good night."

End of Prologue