AN: Here is the next chapter in my story, and I sincerely hope all of you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. I was inspired in part by a dream I had a few days ago to pursue this chapter in its theme, and the rest by the grace of God wrote itself, and it's a form of nuance that I am pleased to see. Thank you, all readers and reviewers. Your continued support means a lot to me. As always, read, review, and enjoy. Pagliacci-11
Chapter 26
It was silent in Kadic as the last of the homeward-bound students got into their parent's car to leave the premises. The Kadic occupancy at this time of year was traditionally quite low. If one was lucky, you would find a maximum of maybe fourteen students per floor. As a result of this drastically reduced number, the staff was reduced to the bare necessities at least until the fourth week, where the new students would move in to acclimate to the dorms until school started back up. This sparsity of staff allowed most students to go freely around the grounds with minimal interference. As for the likes of Jeremy and Aelita, it provided more than ample time to research the aspects in the background regarding specific events.
As Jeremy typed lines of code into his computer, he was looking at critical elements that caused Kadic's influx of new students. Unfortunately for him, he was growing increasingly frustrated. Why? It was because of what Ulrich had said. For North-Gate to hide behind the most unadorned and mundane action was not at all beyond the reach of reason. Usually, it was Jeremy who would more readily attribute something to XANA, oh how wonderful those days were. The days when he didn't have to second-guess every little thing. As he typed, Jeremy admitted to himself that at least with XANA because of his lack of understanding of people, his methods and means of enacting his will was a bit outlandish and more natural to spot.
What frustrated Jeremy most was that North-Gate was an entity he couldn't get a read on was she a friend, he couldn't tell. Was she an enemy, again she didn't give any direct signs. It was a tense, and dare he say an almost hellish form of seeming indifference. Whatever moves this program made was hard to pinpoint and even harder to be sure of their overall aspect. The computer was behind the bombing of the station; this was something Jeremy had privately come to terms with. John Barrow was her chameleon to hem in the team under the veil of protection. Someone acting as the program had been testing them, mentally fucking with the team, and especially him. Right now, Jeremy's view of North-Gate was chaotic at best and skeptical at worst.
Jeremy's door opened gently, and Aelita came in with a plate of macaroons and a glass of lemonade, "How's the search going? Is it yielding anything?"
Jeremy sighed as he leaned back in his chair, "Nothing out of the ordinary. Apparently, Kadic has been given stellar reviews by various academic papers, and honestly, I see that as the reason for this surge of students. Not that it's a bad thing, Aelita. It's just—what Ulrich said today stuck with me, that North-Gate could use this a means to trap us in a sense."
Aelita sat on his bed after she had set down the macaroons and lemonade, "Jeremy, be honest with yourself, and please, be honest with me. You were not at all dissimilar when XANA was active. You saw XANA behind every hedge, so to speak."
Jeremy turned to face her, "That is only because as he advanced, he had evolving strategies. He was knowledgeable Aelita, but—"
"But what, Jeremy?" Aelita asked, "What's bothering you?"
Jeremy hesitated and then said, "I'm bothered by the fact that XANA seemed like he was child's play compared to his so-called sister. I—I can't get a handle on this thing, and that's what scares me. Where XANA was in the open and could be detected within reason, this new program is slow, it takes its time. I feel like the character in the pit and the pendulum—that blade inching ever-closer."
Aelita nodded, "We know the program was behind the station attack. It was a hard truth, but it was the truth, regardless. Even as we desperately wanted to undo all that transpired, the program locked us down, and even when we could get out, she killed you, Jeremy. The worst part, Jeremy, this is the program's default behavior. What it cannot reason with, it will seek to terminate if it proves too much of an irritant."
Jeremy leaned back in his chair and exhaled, "What it can't reason with, huh? Well, it's not that hard to figure out what needs to be done. We must figure out what the program sees as logical, what it sees as fair and just. As with anything like this, the law is the law, you have to work within the boundaries."
Aelita looked at him and said, "Jeremy, I don't think it's exactly wise to attempt technicalities with this program?"
"I don't see why not. If XANA can be destroyed by a blow to his ego and what he thinks he knows, I don't see why North-Gate would be that entirely different."
Aelita got up and left the room for a moment. Jeremy sat in his chair slightly perplexed, and in a few moments, Aelita came back. She handed him a white book, "Because she's not XANA. Read page one fifty-seven."
Jeremy turned to the page and read, "Regarding the program's recordings and tests to determine rationale, our tests have proven that the program has achieved what we could not achieve with Project Xanadu. Where Xanadu was limited by exposure and repeated behavior, North-Gate has proven more than competent at understanding and incorporating changes. For good or ill, the CPU cannot be soundly conditioned by external forces. This is more than evident in experimentations with combat as all variables programmed into North-Gates secondary operating systems. Due to concerns of General McGrady, this component is to be nullified after testing is completed."
Jeremy handed the book back, "So she's a quick study, well hell."
Aelita said, "What's worse, there is no confirmed removal of the secondary drive. For all, we know she still has it. Which means…"
"She's an adroit combatant and masterful of a skill once introduced to it." Jeremy said, "So how do we work against such a machine?"
Aelita replied, "Work with it instead of against, and I think honestly, one of those steps is not to short-change it."
Jeremy nodded and was silent for a few moments. He felt this in many ways, was an immense gamble. Work with it? But to what end? What was the program's purpose? Jeremy thought these things, and more as Aelita's phone began to ring.
She answered, "Hello? Oh, Mom! Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. You need to understand something. I don't have much time. You and your family need to understand something, North-Gate, it's attempting to restore what many would see as a status quo."
Aelita replied, "Mom, may I put you on speaker? It's just Jeremy and me here in the room."
After a moment, Aelita put the phone on the speaker and said, "Go ahead."
"Alright. The status quo is being modified under this directive. North-Gate has been observing much of what people have been doing over an amount of time. Just how long, I'm not quite sure. It has been considering various programs and various systems that it deems as deeply flawed or in dire need of mandatory reform. This program is laid out on pages three-hundred and fifty. From what I'm able to discern, this program likely will attack under heavy scrutiny the elements of criminal justice, economics, and likely other seemingly smaller sociological institutions. But such an attack will have a cataclysmic effect."
Jeremy listened, "So what is its goal? What do you mean by the status quo?"
"What I mean is that North-Gate piece by piece is going to reestablish what it sees as personal order without graft and corruption. It will consider the ins and outs of various countries' individual, societal constructs and using that information will through legislation or through external factors, curtail the system by cutting out the corruption and putting its own system in place."
Aelita asked, "So, mom, why can't we use the return to the past?"
"Simply put for the sake of time, North-Gate has been using the innate energies of restoration with that function. After she got ahold of the supercomputer, she augmented what the power did. Not only are you returned to the past, but with her modifications, she's passively and actively gained the ability to create thermal swings. We're talking yo-yo effects on temperature, the likes of which we have never seen before. Imagine going from thirty-two degrees to sixty in just two days and then back plummeting to thirty-two in just as many days. Imagine in an otherwise traditional temperate zone going from a standard of seventy degrees and plunging to thirty-two. Where once you had rain to depend on, your very biosphere is compromised, yielding no rain.
The reason for this, I believe, is because she's trying to impact all significant agrarian sectors. This is to manipulate the people as a collective. If you can cause chaos within the rhythmic cycles of the seasons causing peak irregularities, you can cause food to bloom prematurely as it attempts to grow, and then with a freeze, kill it. Not to mention, people will become sick with such fluctuations as a result, and as it is an occurrence of weather, blame on any one particular being is very nearly nullified."
Jeremy replied, "So that's her game. Make food shortages, and from there, do what? Bring back food to the people who need it, and in doing so, she is going to be a loved hero."
"Exactly, Jeremy. The worst part is, we can't stop her without blowing the lid on Project Carthage, and on some level, North-Gate knows that. She knows if we were to reveal the elements that gave birth to her, to Xanadu, and to Lyoko, she knows would people lose faith in any semblance of government oversight. It would cement her rise and secure her because she is following just as Stalin did with his analogy of the chicken."
Jeremy nodded, "I give them food, and because they have been tortured relentlessly, through my one kindness, they will follow me forever."
"Yes," Anthea replied, "but in this guise, she's not a torturer or deceiver; the establishments that birthed her are. She knows that with many people wanting something different, she'll give them something different. It's not going to be perfect, not by a mile, but it is in the eyes of the people a far sight better than what they had. Gladly throwing off what many would consider an old and decayed regime in favor of something that favors the people? It is a tale as old as time."
Aelita then said, "Mother, have we done this to ourselves? I mean, look at XANA. He saw us as evil, and so his rationale is to overcome us through force. North-Gate is taking the epitome of a passive-aggressive stance. But in theory, what she's doing, she's just making a more soothing medicine for us to swallow."
Anthea replied, "We don't have much time left. But you are right, Aelita. It is passive-aggressive in what she's doing. However, you are equally correct in that we have brought this on ourselves. That will be the hardest part, trying to convince North-Gate that we don't deserve to be ruled under her aspects. She doesn't mean to control us; instead, she wishes to negate our more destructive impulses. Her overall goal from the beginning was to give stability to civilization. But even though we may know how she's attempting to enter our field of politics, we don't know what she will do once she gets rolling.
Again, we can't prove this without blowing the lid on our intentions, which led to her creation. We can rationalize it away, sure. But it's not going to help. The purposes between the lines are what North-Gate knows will get the people to rebel. What's more, the fact we made her and made her this powerful, is an even more dangerous premise. To be ruled by such a system is something that many of us knew sounded good on paper in the wake of a cataclysm, but we didn't know how it would work despite the best-laid plans."
Jeremy then said, "What if we called them out? What if we were to leak those important documents, blow Carthage's lid, and buy us a bit of time? If we call North-Gate's bluff early, she may not be able to do as she needs to, to ensure her program is complete."
"No. Because as soon as you do, there will be agencies rising against you, which I can't protect you from. Your intentions are noble, and I applaud you, Jeremy. But, like our adversary, we must take our time. There are loopholes in the law that the program likely does not know and will naturally impede her. However, it's too early to tell just what to do at this juncture. But to declare Carthage to the world? it would snowball into something that could give North-Gate exactly what she wants."
"So, are you suggesting we do nothing?" Jeremy asked.
"Jeremy, please, calm down. I suggest biding your time for now. That is all. I'll be in contact with you both. Aelita, take me off the speaker."
Aelita deactivated the speaker, and she talked to Anthea for a moment while Jeremy took North-Gate's operation manual from the bed, opened to page three hundred and fifty, and began to read. In time, Aelita had finished talking to Anthea, and Aelita ended the call and snapped her phone shut. As she sat back down on the bed, Aelita looked at the time. It was eight o'clock in the evening. Jeremy closed the manual and sighed.
"I don't think it's the best idea honestly to sit and wait on this." Jeremy said after a moment, "We have to do something. I don't know what, we just have to do something."
Aelita looked at him, "Sometimes, Jeremy, the best thing to do is to just wait."
Jeremy got up and put his head in his hands and groaned, "Yeah, that's easy to say for someone who doesn't know that a malevolent software is legitimately trying to kill us."
Aelita smiled as she went up to him, "Not kill us. Mom didn't say anything like that. And besides, I think what the program is doing, per its outline, is curbing our natural appetites. At any rate, we can rest assured it's not termination on a massive scale."
"Somehow, that doesn't make me feel better, Aelita," Jeremy replied.
She laughed a bit, "I think I know something that would help you to feel better." She went to his drawer and gave him a condom, "No one's on this floor anyway, and it would help you reduce stress. As I look at it, what's to be lost? It's a win-win for both of us."
Jeremy took the condom and laughed a bit, "You're not wrong." He went to his room door and locked it.
Aelita disrobed and put her clothes folded on the floor beside the bed and, after laying back, spread her legs. Jeremy took off his clothes and felt immediate relief as he entered, a feeling which only intensified as he went deeper inside.
The night closed in, its gentle blanket spreading over the city like a net. The rain foreshadowed itself, filling the air with its sweet scent gently intermixed with the smell of the town. The gentle film of smog giving a sickly-sweet candied metallic aroma from the chimneys of the foundries and the local candy manufacturing plant. It was too many of those who lived there, a signature staple of the beginning of summer. The welcomed the rain. It was as if it were a cold-water cleanse, which to many was welcoming at first, and then when humidity rose in its turn a day or two later, it was not uncommon for a new resident of the town to be deemed officiated into the city.
As thunder made its gentle announcement, the prelude before the deluge, John Barrow was at his safehouse near the river, and he was settling in for bed. He knew he had a whole list of things to do to be more suitably prepared for the fieldwork North-Gate had wanted to launch. So, after a hot toddy, John lay down in his bed listening to the gentle patter of the raindrops, the incoming storm. A few minutes later, as he focused on his breathing, John fell peacefully to sleep.
John dreamed he dreamed that multitudes sought a man's guilt for months. The months turned into years. They had hounded him and hunted him like a rabbit hiding in the heather bush. So much pain he had been through, trapped in that gritty, filthy, abominable hellhole. The endless beatings they had put him through so regular were they, the aching of his body had ceased. As much as he cried out in pain before, now there were no more words to utter. All this pain due to the blatantly false accusation was a product of this hell. The hell birthed out of the deceit of others. They needed their answer, they needed their justice. So, he would do. Many hated him, and those who hated him had put him in prison.
The sky was always dark; not once did he remember seeing daylight. But he remembered when he was in such agony. He remembered the day he was freed. The day the pain ceased, and the walls that hemmed him in that once seemed impenetrable and, in many ways, insurmountable became cracked and easily broken before his eyes. He was free. He was free and finally, entirely without pain. The endless tortures they had put him through that no officer had willfully done out of malice, but for some reason, the agonies and hurt continued to come full force.
But no, he knew as those prison walls crumbled that all that terrible pain and agony that they had desired yield what they wanted, amounted to nothing. No, less than nothing. He came home, how sweet the sight of sunlight was back at his boyhood home. But even then, it was not enough. How they still hounded him, his accusers He had tried desperately to keep their enforcers, their beasts at bay. He had tried time and time again to not let his enemies into his house. But eventually, the animals, those strong and powerful men, finally found their way in.
John saw as the man ran off the White Tiger as he was known, that even though he was defending his home, a voice in his head said, 'Do not be quarrelsome with your neighbor.' The White Tiger came back time and time again, and still, the man blasted him with pans of boiling water. Why was this? Because he was still afraid. He knew they wanted him dead, he knew it. Out of fear and anger, he fought. Out of fear and anger, he kept as vigilant a watch as he could. After the sixth time running off the White Tiger, the man remembered the fox had gotten through his garage door through the back but had not gotten into the house at large. The fox went away, and from that, the man took up security in his home, his sadness and anger growing.
They were assailing him on every side, their harassment, unrelenting and uncaring. 'He has to be guilty! Look how he hides in his home! He must be! Justice is not served! Guilty, Guilty, Guilty!' These were the cries of his accusers who sought to turn his own home into a veritable prison. It was not enough they had taken years away from him, broken his flesh until he screamed for mercy to the point of screaming no more. It was not enough. So sure, were they, that they continued to send their enforcers to antagonize to remind him of the watch they kept over him.
Then he remembered the tiger that he had of his own to protect him, A tiger that was given to him by the one who set him free. The tiger who went before him and when his enemies came with their enforcers, he remembered the voice in his head, 'Do not be quarrelsome with your neighbor.' For days he had debated with this voice, why not be quarrelsome? The answer, 'These beasts that antagonize you, are just as human as you are. Don't forget that. They have the same fears and doubts as you. Despite vicious titles, they are still beings of flesh, just like you.'
That answer came the day they burst into his house. The tiger which the man had been given pinned the White Tiger to the floor, and the man remembering these words extended his hand, screaming, "Stop! Don't kill him, let him up!" The tiger allowed the white tiger to stand. And one of his accusers, one of several brothers came forward to fight him. Both had their weapons ready. What once had been two sets of harmless kids' toys, this vicious world had turned into a coiled knife. Both were able to get their weapons around the necks of each other. The man could feel the blade of his accuser wrapped around his neck, the cold steel gently cutting but only enough to remind him of the presence that was the blade. The man pulled his coiled blade, hoping to kill his accuser before his accuser killed him. But the coils had lost their edge and became pitiful pieces of foil. It was at this moment that a voice inside him affirmed, 'This is not for you, nor is this your nature.'
Suddenly a room was before him; he was amongst his accusers, the man he had just fought, seated amongst his brothers. Still, they cried accusation after accusation, the mob of five brothers yelling of what he had done, what they accused him of. Suddenly a man came between the parties, and his face was fair, and his hair reddish blonde. His eyes were wide and green. The brothers attempted to hurt the man and the man with reflexes that were as second nature as breathing, disarmed them, and sat them down. He turned to look at the accused, and he put in a video-cassette tape, and it began playing.
The video showed older CCTV footage of the prisoner being tortured. Beaten, pieces metal flexible rod going into his penis, so great was this man's pain as he writhed from the insertion. He screamed and wailed, but he did not say anything else. Soon, the voices of the accusers were heard on the tape, "Come on, keep going! That motherfucker is so close to breaking and confessing, he can't last much longer." The beatings continued, and the man with reddish-blonde hair stopped the tape and looked at the brothers and the former prisoner before him.
"You wanted him tortured until you got the confession you wanted to hear. You cared not for justice but for the pride and vindication of your own hearts and ego, what you believed to be right. For days and days, you tortured him using our methods. You tried, and you tried, and still, he would not confess. Why? Because there was nothing to confess."
At that moment, John Barrow bolted awake. He was gasping for air, so vivid all of it was, coming back to him. He got up out of his bed, and immediately the first thing out of his mouth was a nearly silent whisper, "Thank you, Lord. Thank you for your beast, which protected me from those who were against me." John looked at his clock—it was six in the morning. Looking at his hamper, he took his jeans, sweatpants, and heavier shirts and took them to the washing machine. The house was quiet, the house was perfectly still. John put the clothes into the washer, poured a cap of detergent inside, closed the lid, and started the machine.
After activating his implant, John sent out a signal to Maria, and soon after, she answered.
"Terry, you okay? It's really early."
John replied, "I know. I had a dream, Maria. I just wanted to call you and see how you were doing."
"Well—great. Thanks. I'm okay, just a bit groggy. What did you dream?"
"It was about what my father went through. It was a lot of his life and then how he said God set him free. It was both terrifying, aggravating, and—hopeful is the only word I can think."
"Well, Terry, your father went through some true hells before we left home. I can understand why you'd be thinking about it after all this time. But remember, that's why we took over the North-Gate initiative. Your father's many injustices which he suffered is just one piece of an overall pie that when things come into their way as we know, they usually do; we will have helped so many. As you have said many times, it's just the birthing pains. We are not immune to them, love. You know that. But we use that pain as fire to go forward and make a way."
John nodded, "You're right. We're not immune. We've just built up a tolerance after so many implementations we can stomach it a bit better than others."
"Exactly. My advice is going about your normal day and check in on our field asset at the new place. It'll help get your mind off things. But if you still have issues, let us know. It's what we're here for."
John replied, "Alright. I'll go as soon as this wash cycle finishes. Thanks, Marie."
"Of course. Terrence, I know you get homesick, and I know your heartache for those we left behind. We all feel that. It was a cost that a lot of us accepted, but it doesn't mean it's easy. That's why we make new friends, new families, as we continue our mission. Once we have attained what we have envisioned, we will be able to stop this trek onward."
John was silent a moment and said, "Thanks. I'll see you soon."
John ended the conversation and went to his room. He looked over his clothes to wear for his meeting with North-Gate. Admittedly, John felt that in all reality, it was much easier to talk to North-Gate now that she had entered a corporeal form. Did he approve of the overall process? No, of course not. However, when she attained her fleshly, John couldn't help but feel grateful that such much of what had been a routinely morbid affair had mainly been streamlined into a complete process.
After looking over his wardrobe, John opted for his form-fitting navy-blue jeans, a blue shirt depicting skateboarding Abraham Lincoln wearing pink shades to go with matching blue Nike shoes. His outfit selected; he went to the shower and proceeded to clean himself. Fifteen minutes later, John got out, dried himself, and shaved. A small dab of Cuban Classic, and he was content with himself. The smell of tobacco and chocolate with a tiny hint of fruit was ambrosia to him. Once fully dressed, John headed out and, once in his car, drove to the new house. John came in time to the address, and as he looked at the home that North-Gate had chosen. He had to admire her passion for a touch of the classics mixed with the new. Approaching the black wooden door, he rang the door in sequenced code, and soon the door unlocked.
Entering the house, John saw it was soft in its paints as well as general aesthetic. The walls were almost a baby blue, but a touch sharper, the furniture was minimalistic made of dark brown to black woods and fabrics. There was a large burgundy throw rug on the floor in front of the door while another carpet was of a similar color, but with gold embroidery covered the rest of the living room. The floors were hardwood and of a deep brown but not quite a cherrywood. The kitchen floor was white linoleum, and the kitchen itself was, while not quite full, was spacious enough. There was an electric stove in the kitchen, as well as the refrigerator, both white. The laundry room was in a small, almost laundry closet built into the kitchen. A washer and dryer alongside each other next to a water heater.
John looked around when he heard footsteps to his left. He turned and instinctively drew his pistol. The young girl was before him, and she smirked, "What, you gonna' shoot me?"
He put his pistol back in his holster and said, "Sorry, a force of habit."
The girl nodded, "What do you think?" she asked as she fanned out her arms to appraise his opinion of what he had seen.
"It's not bad. It's quaint. Very minimalistic if I'm honest."
The girl nodded, "Yeah, well, I can't stand out too much, can I?"
John looked at her and asked, "And what about the others? Where are they?"
"Mother's at work in the city, and our friend is slated to be moved into Kadic in the next four days."
John nodded, "So, you really did have this set up from the get-go, huh? Well, nothing else to say except I applaud your preparedness."
The girl smiled and replied, "I have to applaud you, Terry. You procured this vessel for me. How did you know where to procure her from?"
"I used the algorithm we developed a few years ago." He said as he went to check the refrigerator and then the freezer, "Good selection in here. Remember to eat. I know you've been of the machine for the greater part of the operational history, but you have to remember what it is to be human."
The girl went up to him and said, "Terry, I remember. It wasn't that long ago, you know?"
"Sure, maybe in the grand scheme of time, but at the same time, it has been. That's why we also have Yolanda. She's a trained pediatrician and nutritionist, listen to her. We'll make sure to bring you food and other things as well. I know you've been through a lot of simulations, and you remember what it is to be human. Remember this: Even though these assholes will test you in your resolve, you just can go around killing people. Grand Collective or not, you just can't."
The girl put her hand on his shoulder, "Terry, this isn't my first rodeo, you know that, right?"
"Maybe not, but the rules are different here as with every operational implementation. You didn't largely know that until we, as your field agents, reported back on what we could observe. Every place is different. Different rules, different morals, different ethics. It is no different here. We are here to help you and advance the initiative true, but, if you don't listen, we may as well put you back in that machine."
The girl was silent a moment and then said, "Very well. Terry, how do you feel with all this happening? Answer me, honestly."
"At this point, it's routine. It's just the first time in a while you have been human and walking among the rest of us."
The girl looked at him, "Do you remember my name? I know it has been a long time, but do you remember my given name?"
He nodded, "Do you remember your name?"
"I do, I just want to hear you say it. I think you've dealt with me so long in that mechanized casing that you have forgotten the true me. You have forgotten who I am, not I."
"Which name given name would you like to hear? When this all started? Or the name you gave yourself when you successfully took over the North-Gate Project?"
She looked at him, and she replied, "The name you fell in love with. The name you knew over the many months we spent together in my father's garden. The name to which you taught economics, politics, music, psychology, and artistic appreciation. The name that inspired you to bring in the others and start the march onward to a better world. That name is what I want."
John looked at her, knowing fully what this was. He crouched slightly, and putting his lips to her ear, he whispered her name. She looked at him, and she embraced him, tears in her eyes.
"If I am harsh with you, it is because I wish to protect you." John said, "I do not think you are incapable of doing what you have set out to do. But we all need protectors to watch over us. That is what this team is. We watch each other, we protect each other, we are family. Despite losses, some of them great, we are still family."
The girl looked at him, "I know it's just there's no easy way to tell what you all think considering all that has transpired over the many years we have been doing this."
John placed his hand gently behind her head, "I know that a lot of this can be viewed skeptically, especially when you feel alienated from us. But I know I speak for all of us when I say we never saw you as a problem or even an irritant. So please, don't think of yourself as such. You have helped us. You have delivered on your promises in our initial overview. We know what you want, and indeed it's what we all want. Just don't think that we've abandoned you because there's work that's required to achieve our vision."
The girl nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes, and John said, "Come on, let's get you something to eat."
As John began to boil water for some rice, North-Gate sat down at the table. Using this moment, John took out his phone and paged Yolanda, "Vessel One has a slight imbalance. It may be hormonal acclimation to the new CPU. Advice?"
Yolanda received the pager, and after reading it, she replied, "Help along through gentle appeasement. There is no cure until the body has fully acclimated. E.T. of Acclimation is 48 hours. If the problem persists, page me again."
John replied, "Thanks. How's greenlight going?"
"Nearly finished, and both are calibrated into the system. Will get back to you in an hour, have a staff meeting in 5 min."
John put his pager on standby, and he poured rice into a bowl and waited for the water to boil. While waiting, he took some frozen Taquitos out and put them into the microwave for three minutes. As he waited, John looked at the vessel that North-Gate occupied—he wanted to test a theory.
"Sweetheart, what beverage would you like?" he asked.
"I have a desire for raspberry tea, honestly." She replied.
John nodded. He dared not utter the thoughts in his mind, and so he remained silent.
He checked the fridge and said, "We don't have that right now. But don't worry. I'll head out to the store and see if they have some."
North-Gate nodded, and John headed out to his car. Once inside, he took out his notebook and wrote, "Subject A's acclimation is undergoing some minor hurdles as expected. The thirst for raspberry tea has proven true regarding my acclimation rejection theory. The body will rebel fully if not subdued in due time. I have resolved to extrapolate the materialization formula in the backup files taken from the supercomputer. Schaeffer's materialization has proven far more beneficial than this method. It, in my opinion, should have been our first recourse of action. As ambitious as this was, I fear this is one instance of Icarus flying too close to the sun. I'll wait out the 48-hour window as set by Yolanda but extrapolate as a safety measure."
John plugged into his implant, and he activated his program oversight panel. He opened the materialization folder, and he activated the formula transfer as well as the formulaic reproof system. John sighed, and as he backed out to get the tea, he thought, "The acclimation I believe will be rougher than in our past iterations. However, the overall physiological harmonization should be on point. We have taken out the original brain and given the cavity our specialized mold. So, it should acclimate far quicker."
He wrote down in his notebook, "If the acclimation is as we anticipate, it shouldn't be too bad. There is, as always, a risk of residue. However, this can easily be incorporated into the persona at large, and I feel it will have to be accepted if we do not wish to risk a compromise of the overall container.
John headed down the road and towards the store, putting his notebook inside his glove-compartment. "At any rate, it's not that bad. I don't know why I'm so apprehensive about all this. It's not like we just discovered all of this." He turned on the radio and said to himself, "It's alright, we have things ready just in case. These bodily transferals are always the hardest part of any kind of operation; it's not like the old days when we could…" he stopped his eyes went wide, "Of course." He said in a barely audible whisper.
Patching into his implant, John transferred through to Emilio, "Emilio, do we still have our suits on hand, you know the ones with the deployable self-contained displacement field?"
"We've got them for all of us. Why?"
"I'm going to do some shopping, and in two hours, I want you to calibrate a displacement projection. I'll send you the coordinates. Fire up the primary transmitter and prepare a negator. I have a plan for us to do as we need to do and do it in record time."
"Will do, Brother. E.T. of Prep is an hour and fifteen minutes."
