i have a whole stock of other titles as part of character creation so they may be appearing a few times as a STAND ALONE TEXT. I must warn you, there will be a few more which i will dot in when i feel bored or need to add more depth before i can slap a nice big COMPLETE on this piece. And i might also include a little more of Motoko's dialogue, even if she doesn't speak for the whole text, she still is capable of expressing herself.

Tharagon

The rain rolled down the windows of the parked cars as in the busy streets of London, the large steps of the National Library ran slick with the constant stream of water. Motoko lent on the wheel of the car, watching the rain, her copper coloured eyes ever watchful as the dark storm above, twisted in the sky. She chewed her lip and reached with one hand for the cup of coffee lodged in the cup holder beside her. The Audi R8 was Ryeman's pride and joy, it's well polished, jet black surface catching the light as she sat, engine still, on the single parking place.

It had been a long day. From the moment the storm broke at nine in the morning to now, Three pm, they'd been out, scouring the city for a single glimmer of this book. Deus Ex Machina. In Motoko's eyes, the single piece of print media was a waste of time, cyber-warfare was her forte but under Ryeman's orders, she was here, driving or huddling in musty book stores while the rather elderly proprietor fiddled around in the back, offering her lukewarm tea and stale biscuits.

She eyed the rather nasty looking cake, wrapped in cellophane on the back seat with a degree of trepidation given by the last shop they'd wandered into where the owner had enquired if they were married and what a sweet couple they made. Ryeman had turned a little red at that point. She gently squeezed the throttle trying to release the knotted muscle in her leg.

"So you return to the Flock, James, it has been a long time"

"Jefferson…"

Ryeman looked up grinning as he stepped dripping into the library foyer, his coat clinging to his shoulders. His gloves were completely dry however, their metal surface still shiny, even after so many years gracing the hands of Ryeman. Above, hands resting on a banister, Jefferson, the chief Librarian, old, greying and tired, his lined face creasing as he positively beamed down.

"I told you to read more and you up sticks and leave at a whim…."

"Well I was busy, the Nightwatch is a full time job and then…." he harrumphed "….there was that rather unfortunate incident with America, Japan and China and a world war but I guessed you missed that."

"All my years living under a rock I guess…"

Ryeman placed one foot on the marble staircase which followed the long circular space up one of the walls, gazing up at the painted ceiling above. The whole place had only just been rebuilt. Vast pyres of Print media had been burnt during occupation. The Net was the only way to exist in the eyes of the invaders, past history, was left behind in the wake of progress.

"….and what can I do for you?"

"I need a book…." Ryeman said as he reached the Librarian, realising how stooped the older man was "….Deus Ex Machina"

"Hans Schieder's Masterpiece…strange I did not think you Cyber-Warfare types would be interested in such a book"

Ryeman nodded as Jefferson turned, crossing the marble landing into a large archway which lead through into the main library. Inside the vast dome, the musty smell of the library washed through, the shelves set up like the cogs of a wheel except for a single section in the middle.

Jefferson raised a single beacon and a drone, not dissimilar from the Organic Attack drones used during the war fizzled across. It was a large disc shaped object, the centre of the disk larger then the edges, running down in a smooth curve. On top of this a thick, rectangular antenna blinked and below, many wires and cables hung ready to puck a book from the many shelves…

"Deus Ex Machina….Schieder, Hans if you don't mind."

The drone chirruped and turned, tearing away from them at a fast pace, humming while it did so.

"And you Ryeman" Jefferson turned, his back constantly stooped after many ages of work "….how are you?"

"I am fine…." Ryeman said carefully.

"you still have to wear those gloves don't you?"

Ryeman raised the offending articles to eye level, their carved and well polished surfaces catching the light. They were built into several segments, all group around a single crystal orb in the centre of the back of his hand. It was blue in colour, mounted on a single silver pedestal.

"Take them off…"

"Wha…" Ryeman looked up surprised, "…that would be a really.."

"Take them off!" Jefferson said forcibly "….I watched when they stick them on you, I helped you cope."

"Fine, fine" Ryeman reached up and twisted aside several small knobs on the underside of the gloves. With a hiss of smoke and steam, it came off.

Ryeman flexed his hand. His pale, bleached white flesh of his hands twitching as the electrical current flowed through it. Between fingers, brief sparks of electricity quickly passed and disappeared from view. He clenched his hand shut and opened his palm. His face was immediately illuminated from hundreds of arcs of power spreading thorough his splayed fingers.

"No change…"

"No.."

Jefferson chewed his lip… "Have you learnt to control it…"

"Do you mean, can I throw it and channel it, then yes. I have been known to throw lightning balls…" he shrugged, pulling the gauntlet back on and sealing the hand away "…..y'know, breaks the ice at parties"

"Be serious man!!"

"Sorry, sorry, no I don't bring it up at all. For once I don't show my secrets……" Jefferson raised an eyebrow "…..Alright fine, maybe a little but 'sorry I'm full of electricity' never fits well into conversation"

"Especially with a Cy-Borg"

"She has a name!!"

"Motoko Kusanagi, the infamous Major…"

"….and my friend"

"…..and is Mira?"

Ryeman looked at him warningly "How do you know?"

"I was once a Night-watchman like you. I just didn't die like most of you end up doing"

The drone returned beside them, its plasma engines whirring to keep it aloft.

"It appears your book is missing. It was bought by a Mister Kinson of the American Empire, it was part of our stock once but it appears this guy made a rather wealthy donation to the trust and we gave him that book as a thank you…."he chew a loose nail "….in fact, I could of sworn he was rather insistent about the title."

Ryeman dropped back into the passenger seat of his car and signalled for Motoko to drive on.

Any Luck

"no, its gone. Some bastard bought it a while ago."

It figures…. Motoko checked over her shoulder, allowing a large military lorry to pass …every time we get close ODIN moves the goal poles to the other end of the grounds

"As is life…"

True, True, but you were always the pessimist. Don't get down about it…we're all trying.

"You may say that…" Ryeman said "….but don't you struggle to cope sometimes. I know about your late night jaunts"

Motoko grimaced..

I work best alone. You know that very well. Just because I….. she shrugged, pulling away from the kerb …have several interesting pastimes and I need my own space. It is a great change for me, so cut me some slack.

"Yeah, too true, too true…." he patted her on the shoulder and picked the large bundle of the cake off the back seat "….now, lets see if Mrs Snell is as good a cook as she is a book seller."

I'll turn my taste buds off.