Episode Nine : Point of No Return, Part I

Soundtrack: The Police's "No Time at All (for Jeremie again, and don't tell me I'm using too many Police songs…)

I'm aware most people haven't read any Coleridge, so I've reprinted Kubla Khan for those poor souls with far too little exposure to poetry. It's not necessary to enjoy the next to episodes, but it helps.

Taidine

Kubla Khan

By Samuel Taylor Coleridge

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round:

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,

Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! That deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! As holy and enchanted

As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain momently was forced:

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:

And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion

Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

Then reached the caverns measureless to man,

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:

And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure

Floated midway on the waves;

Where was heard the mingled measure

From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer

In a vision once I saw:

It was an Abyssinian maid,

And on her dulcimer she played,

Singing of Mount Abora.

Could I revive within me

Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight 'twould win me,

That with music loud and long,

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! Those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread,

For he on honey-dew hath fed,

And drunk the milk of Paradise

Chapter One: Starting Points

"A damsel with a dulcimer/in a vision once I saw/she was an Abyssinian maid/and on her dulcimer she played/singing of Mount Abora." The English teacher paused, standing deliberately in front of the day's notes, and faced his lethargic class. "Is anyone familiar with the poem this stanza is from?" He didn't expect an answer – it was Monday morning, and though the leaden skies of the weekend had given way to a chill, sunny blue, 'perky' was the last adjective he would use to describe his students. Not a single hand rose. "Aelita? How about you?"

A girl in the front with uneven pink hair blinked her way out of a daydream at the sound of her name. "Hmm? No, I don't think I've heard it before. Maybe if you read it from the beginning."

The teacher had already moved on, like a hawk in a white collared shirt trying to pick which prairie dog to swoop down on. "Jeremie! I'm sure you…" he was cut off by a few half-hearted titters from the students, and looked down. He had apparently been talking to an empty desk. "Jeremie's out? Is he sick?"

The class looked silently at their teacher, who gave up. "Well, I'm sure he has a good excuse. Now, open your Poetry Analogies books to page one eighty-three, which starts, 'In Xanadu did Kubla Kahn…'"

Aelita's head jerked up from a near doze, single earring clinking. "XANA?" She gasped out.

The teacher looked at her, puzzled; normally the girl, despite her outrageous pink hair and the illogical gaps in her knowledge, was a model student. "Xanadu," he corrected her, "it's a kind of utopian landscape created in the poem Kubla Kahn, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge." Aelita's expression was even dreamier then usual. "Are you alright, Aelita?"

"Umm…" the girl's eyes flicked towards Jeremie's empty desk. "Actually, I am a little faint. Maybe I should go to the infirmary."

The English teacher suspected the most deadly thing Aelita was suffering from could be spelled L-O-V-E, but if every pair of sweethearts were as studious as Aelita and Jeremie were most of the time, he would only have to teach three weeks out of the month anyway, so they were welcomed to whatever romantic rendezvous they had planned. "Go ahead, Aelita," he said.

"Mr. Taverez?" In the back of the room, Theo waved his hand in the air. "I'm feeling a little queasy, can I go to the infirmary too?"

"Certainly, Theo. But first, would you be so kind as to read the first stanza?"

"Uh – actually, I think I'll be okay if I can put my head down for a minute," the boy capitulated. Aelita slid her poetry book into her bag and slung it over one shoulder.

"Well, Herve, why don't you read it?"

As Aelita closed the door to the classroom, it clipped off Herve's nasal recitation. "In Xanadu did Kubla Kahn/ a stately pleasure dome decree…" She had lied to Mr. Taverez. The poem was familiar to her. Somewhere deep in her hindbrain, a hazy memory of a deeper voice took up the stanza. Where Alph, the sacred river ran/through caverns measureless to man/down to a sunless sea. Just a voice – another irritating fragment of the sort that had lead Jeremie to believe she had not always lived in Lyoko.

Jeremie. Her footsteps quickened, pink boots tapping rapidly across the floor. He would be at the Factory, again. She tripped down the stairwell. The computer operator hadn't left since XANA's last attack, nearly two days ago now. The door of the school building opened, allowing Aelita out onto the grounds. He had scanned Ulrich Sunday morning to retrieve the antibodies he hoped to save Aelita with, then claimed he would need some time to isolate them. But, Aelita reflected as she lowered herself down the entrance to the sewers, she had assumed Jeremie would show up to class. He always showed up to class.

One scooter and three skateboards were lined up against the wall. Aelita snatched the former mode of transport and skidded off down the tunnel. Of course, she had never believed such a close deadline faced them. XANA only needed an incremental boost in power before it left the supercomputer for good. The other end of the tunnel loomed before her; Aelita braked her scooter and scrambled up. She could understand Jeremie's intensity. Every hour was an hour closer to the point when she would have to decide between her own life and XANA's escape if Jeremie hadn't finished his work.

She understood it, but nothing drove a point home like Jeremie missing class.

The heavy doors of the elevator twisted and disengaged, coming open with a ponderous hiss on the computer room. The glowing holographic map cast unhealthy shadows over the back of Jeremie's blonde head; the computer core hummed, and the keyboard clicked. Aelita could tell her friend was tired even before she stepped out of the elevator; he was slumped forward, and his typing was slow, exaggerated, overly deliberate.

"Jeremie," she murmured as she stepped out, walking over to stand behind the computer chair. Totally engrossed in his work, he failed to look up until Aelita leaned past him to peer at the computer screen, chin practically resting on his shoulder. "You missed English this morning. I don't think you've slept in three days. You can't do this to yourself." His screen was cluttered with lines of green code, at which he was carefully chipping away; he still didn't look up from it.

"I have to, Aelita." His words had the same slow, almost drunken deliberateness as his typing. "There's no more time to keep secrets, there's no more time to pretend to live a normal life." He paused and deleted several lines of code. "There's just no more time," he repeated.

Aelita lifted her head and touched her friend's arm lightly. "Then there's no time to make mistakes," she pointed out, drawing back and taking a seat on the edge of the semicircular computer desk, "and if you don't rest, you're going to start making mistakes."

"I'm almost there!" Jeremie protested. "I just have to finish this. Then we'll turn off the supercomputer and… and this will all be over."

Aelita nodded. "I understand that, but take one hour to eat something and-"

She was cut off by a shrill beeping. Lyokan and computer geek looked up simultaneously to one of the secondary computer screens, where a pale image of a tall ivory shaft wreathed in red blinked into existence. "Not now!" Jeremie exclaimed, and Aelita was inclined to agree with him.

- - - -

Back at Kadic, the dismissal bell rang at last. Aelita's English class thankfully slammed their poetry anthologies shut and skipped out into the clean, chill sunlight outside. Coats were generally eschewed for the quick dash to the cafeteria, so the students cheerfully shivered as their breath clouded on each exhalation and raced each other across the grounds.

One girl, clad in stark black against the colorful outfits of her classmates, had a different destination. Her sprint, though every bit as energetic the cafeteria-bound, brought her up alongside a boy with brown hair and a serious face. "Hey, Ulrich!" she greeted.

He had been walking at a good clip, but he slowed down to match her pace. "Hey," he responded, equally blasé.

She inhaled once, quickly, then let out her breath in a puff of white air. "Do you want to come over my house for lunch? My dad put on some soup this morning, so, uh…" she smiled sheepishly. "It's probably better then what they're serving at the cafeteria."

"Uh, sure," said Ulrich. This was doomed to be a conversation punctuated by 'um's and awkward pauses.

The pair walked away from the cafeteria, towards the exit from the school grounds. "It's kind of chilly," Yumi tried after a while.

"Yeah," Ulrich agreed, "November, right?"

She nodded. "Good point." They lapsed into silence once more.

The school gates loomed before them like the exit from a prison compound, invitingly open. They passed out into the Real World without looking back, although Ulrich did look around; when you attend a boarding school, you tend to forget the rest of the world exists.

The Ishiyama household was predictably neat and suburban. Yumi opened the gate; Ulrich closed it behind them and followed her up the slate steps to the door. Yumi knocked; well, 'pounded' might be a better word. "Hiroki!"

After a moment, the letter slot on the door came open. A pair of black eyes peered out suspiciously. "Who is it? Oh, Yumi. Hey…" the eyes fixed on their visitor. "You brought Ulrich? For lunch? Oooh, Yumi's in lo-ove!"

"It's cold out here!" Yumi barked in the irritated tones of older sisters everywhere. "Just open the door and stop being a pest, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," said Yumi's brother. The letter slot shut with a clink. "It's okay. Ulrich is cooler then William anyway." The door swung open, revealing a young boy with the same floppy black hair and Asian features as Yumi. "And if you marry Ulrich, he'd be like, my uncle, so he could teach me how to use a katana, right Ulrich?"

"Woah, nobody's marrying anyone," Ulrich interjected, pushing the door shut behind him.

Yumi fixed her sibling with a glower. "If I wanted you in the hospital, I would rather do it myself then give you a katana. Hmm…" she let it trail off and arched one eyebrow in a threatening manner. Hiroki gave a little yelp and scurried away.

"Nice," Ulrich complimented dryly.

"I've had a lot of practice," Yumi replied, at least as droll as her friend. They exchanged smiles; for one shining moment, all was well between them. "Anyway, kitchen's over here," Yumi added, breaking the mood. She sniffed the air apprehensively – there was a faint scent of chicken, salt, and boiled cabbage. "Yep, that's my dad's soup all right."

For several minutes, Yumi bustled around the kitchen, leaving Ulrich feeling useless and vaguely awkward. By the time she gave him a shove towards the table, there were two places set with folded napkins, broad soup spoons, and deep ceramic bowls full of golden broth. A few bubbles of oil floated on top. Ulrich poked at these dubiously with his spoon. "I, uh, guess this means I owe you lunch."

Yumi blew on a spoon full of soup to cool it. "Don't thank me until after you've tasted it," she warned before sipping down the broth.

Ulrich stirred the soup. Some noodles and a few green bits floated to the top. "Seems a little empty," said the student whose experience with soups involved more vegetables then broth, and also came in a can.

"Well, you're supposed to drink it out of the bowl," said Yumi, swallowing another spoonful, "but I figured this would be easier if you'd never… uh…"

Ulrich had dropped his spoon, lifted the bowl in both hands as if toasting her, then very deliberately gulped a mouthful of broth. "…careful?" Yumi warned belatedly.

An expression of pain spread across Ulrich's face. "Augh!" He opened his mouth, fanning frantically with one hand.

"That bad?" Yumi asked serenely.

"Burnt my tongue," Ulrich explained fuzzily, holding his mouth open and continuing the futile fanning motion.

"Yeah – you're supposed to take smaller sips." Yumi's expression was a cross between pity and amusement – although the fold of her brow was concerned, she was biting her lip to keep from laughing. "I'll get you some water."

Ulrich nodded gratefully as his friend pushed back her chair and disappeared into the kitchen. Yes indeed, he owed Yumi a lunch. If only he could cook…

"Ulrich! I think you'd better see this!" Yumi's voice interrupted his thoughts, the urgency with which she spoke immediately banishing any complaints over his burnt tongue.

Dashing past a misty landscape painted in traditional brush style and an ornamentally displayed sword, Ulrich burst into Yumi's living room. She was watching the small television, where the image was a slow zoom on the Factory. "…used by the students of Kadic as a location for the meetings of a group so secret, even the teachers don't know it exists," said the voiceover, a strangely toneless sound. "So why are we telling you about it?" A shot of the elevator; a hand punched in the code too quickly too follow. "Because we can, and there's nothing you can do about it. A secret isn't nearly as much fun if no one knows you're keeping it." There was a shot of the computer room, brief and tantalizing, then it was back to the slow zoom. "This is the Factory, a relic from a bygone era of industrialization, used by the students of Kadic…"

"That's not Jeremie," Ulrich pointed out.

Yumi held out a remote and flicked up the channels. "It's playing everywhere," she pointed out.

"Hey, do you belong to the secret group?" Piped Hiroki. The younger boy was nestled among the brocade pillows of the couch, looking distinctly puppyish with his black hair tumbling forward into his eyes.

"XANA?" Ulrich ventured.

"Who's XANA?" Begged Yumi's younger brother, hugging a pillow to his chest.

"Why? Yumi replied, shutting off the television.

"Hey, I was watching that!" Hiroki again.

Right on cue, there was a shrill ringing. Yumi reached into the pocket of her utilitarian black pants and pulled out a sleek black cell phone that opened to a practiced flick of her fingers. "Jeremie? … I'm at my house, with Ulrich. …We'll be right over. Wait, did you see the broadcast? …Well, turn on the news. See you soon." The phone snapped shut and vanished back into its pocket. "Hiroki, you can finish my soup. Put the bowls in the sink when you're done, and…" she slipped into rapid Japanese; her brother nodded.

"But where are you going?" he asked as the two Kadic students raced for the door. They gave no response.