AN: This is a chapter that came as a surprise even for me. But after prayer, this is what came of it, and I'm so delighted to bring it to you all. Oh, just an FYI, for the coming week, there won't be a chapter. I have to focus on a class project, so I won't be able to post next week.

Pagliacci-11.

Chapter 84

Ulrich had his drink, a lovely concoction of honey, peach, and mango puree with a hint of mint. After he'd drank a quarter of the sweet nectar, rightly called Leo's Nectar, he looked at Sylvia, whose expression hadn't changed. It was one of patience, anticipation, and a silent, passive judgment, assessing him as if he were either a challenge or threat; he couldn't tell which.

He remembered his father's training from years of dogmatic business vision, 'Never let your competition see you bleed, Ulrich, never! They think from there; they have the upper hand. Keep them waiting if someone appreciates punctuality for, the pitchman answer to you if they are the pitchman, never the other way around. The only thing you need respect is a time and place for meeting. After that, etiquette is to be played by ear, rooted in your skill at diplomacy.'

Ulrich continued in this imprint seeing how Sylvia would react but what troubled him; she was perfectly at ease. It was as if she knew, point for point, his playbook. So, he figured it was time to let discussions and the negotiations begin.

"What do you want with us? What is your vision for the future?" He asked very bluntly.

Sylvia looked at him a moment, and she replied, "War to start us off. That through the rosewater that nurtures the fields of France and in time the world, you may nurture the seeds of progress and equalization. That you reach true justice and comprehend fairness as it should be in the original design of civilization. As for what I want from you, simply put, your support. It matters not to me if you support me, but I offer you a place beside me so you may benefit from it fully and not to a lesser extent as many would in their degrees of societal placement."

"How did your vision come to be cemented?"

"Through witnessing and hearing the testimony of the evils of humanity time and time again and concluding that the whole need not be eradicated, just the festering moldering filth within that sickens the body of society."

Ulrich understood, she was a true warrior; she was a purger as his father termed her, merciless and when it struck her, without pity. So he asked the following question, "Who fell first in your vision of the festering mold?"

"The thieves of the people. The greedy pigs living high in life, well beyond their need. Meanwhile, the poor were given less regard than feces that comes out of a dog's ass, pardon my vulgarity."

"How were the people cared for? The people who you supposedly champion?"

"They were given the long-overdue fats of their labors taken from the pigs' innards and hordes of food and treasure to nurture themselves and let themselves grow stronger. Once strong enough and able to perform the work to lay a future foundation, they were given positions following their passions which they prospered after some adjustments as needed."

"What adjustments?"

"Adjustments to their vision of what they envisioned embracing a life of their passions was compared to a productive reality. An aspiring cook is trained to anticipate the palates of the people, attentive to their requests for change, in addition to innovating on his own. In marketing, as your parents are familiar with, and you, it's called being aware of the trends."

Ulrich nodded, "Alright, if you want to talk of this in a business sense—"

"Careful boy." Sylvia replied, "Too many people get caught up in that, and they forget the people in their zeal. Ask me the questions that matter to you, no more, no less. I'm a busy woman."

Ulrich reluctantly nodded, thinking, "She's really smart. More than I gave her credit for. Alright, let's test this honesty of hers." He spoke, "Tell me a comprehensive history of your program. Why should I trust you to help humanity as you claim you have and intend to?"

"A synopsis won't do it justice. Order a plate, and let me tell you a story. A story of a vision of equalization and empowerment. This vision birthed from the gross abuses heaped upon the people by the wealthy, the influential, physically powerful, and legislation of the nations. But most importantly, a story of my home."

Ulrich nodded, knowing there was something more. He ordered a large lunch, and as their meals cooked, Sylvia's story began.

I have told you of the abuses in broad descriptive; now the specifics begin. The abuses I mentioned and the government's vision were reinforced by the co-mingling of banking and political business ventures, both foreign and domestic, that left the people in such dire straights in the name of whatever cause you want to affix. I say this because our government and the nations around us played a massive game of monkey in the middle with the people.

Our votes never counted and were window dressing. The same way Sissi sees a new diet trend in the pages of Vogue and thinks, 'Because the celebrity does it, I should.' As a matter of fact, through that same degree of endorsement, the people were easily governed. These were no better than endorsements for our nation to help pour honey into the ears of the masses. Because, regardless of who you are in life, we all have idols we aspire to emulate and imitate. From this, many policies grew enormously lop-sided with time, but not many people paid too much mind.

The seeds of North-Gate came along when select people had enough of the concept. These people were small eggs from a powerful hen called "The Truth of Public Thought." While small, their potency was powerful. So much so that the genuinely influential people of the nations conglomerated together for the defense of their common interests. In time, this gave birth to the founding of an initiative known as Project Carthage.

Its design governs the people more effectively than the doping process through celebrity endorsements, and their long-held illusions of equality and chance and justice had. Carthage was to be equal parts societal enhancement and security cudgel by which they reigned in the dissenters. They were very smooth in how they did this, but their chief advancement was a project named Lyoko.

From this program, Carthage could gauge human responses based on historical aspects, both recent and of the antiquated past. They could gauge environmental reactions for new initiatives linked to global power grids. This was done to 'rid us of foul influences polluting our planet' at least, so they claimed. However, these countless initiatives' fundamental objective was to passively sustain the people through power and food without financial detriment to themselves. All the while, they continued charging the masses out the wazoo as if nothing had changed.

Then, one day, along came a man named Waldo Schaeffer. He wasn't the true architect behind Lyoko, although that's how history remembers him, or doesn't, take your pick. But, anyway—he saw that the powers of Carthage had benefitted too long just in a minor sector after utilizing the power grid revolutions birthed in Lyoko. The gross domestic savings were thirty-fold for the people of Mainland Europe and the U.K.

These savings were used to buy more and more goods of natural aspects around the world and manipulate the ordinary people and lesser elites through the scarcity principle. The scarcity allowed them to justify truly egregious markups due to the illusion of not having enough of whatever product you wish. But, much like any hustle, 'I have a stash of these goods here that are in rare amounts, but because I know you, I'll cut you a deal because we're friends.'

Now, dear old Waldo comes along, sees this, and, using all this data, realizes Carthage and those behind it cannot be trusted, not in the slightest. He designs Project XANADU, which is a literal place of his ideals as they should be. However, because Carthage's original algorithms were made to be adaptive to external stimuli to the nth degree, to keep the investors behind Carthage happy well, XANADU had to be programmed to counter these events.

Suffice to say, give something liberty to do something; it will do that thing one hundred percent of the time, especially if you specify "only under select circumstances." It's a forbidden-fruit kind of mentality mixed with reverse psychology. However, Waldo's plans worked a bit too well. XANADU became aware of Carthage's logical and philosophical fallacies and, in time, made a record of all these events. In time, left to himself, XANADU had enough charges to pursue what was called The North-Gate Initiative.

It was a program that, through the data compiled by XANADU and helmed by Waldo Schaeffer and his business partner Jonathan Barrow. It was designed to restore and undo so many elements that Carthage had enacted for so long that only a bloody revolution would suffice to overturn those riveted-down tables. So, the two worked together on North-Gate and its functions. Unfortunately, XANADU was still active, compiling data, and couldn't reconcile himself. Why? Because it saw too much potential for North-Gate's abuse of power, no different than Carthage before it.

XANADU concluded, therefore, that because humanity birthed Carthage out of greed and usury, rooted it in deception, secured the roots with the waters of corruption and illicit money, that the humans that were making North-Gate were just as corrupt and evil as their creation would be in theory. So, to remedy this, XANADU trapped Waldo to get him to understand the reasoning behind why North-Gate had to be stopped. It wasn't the other way 'round, despite what is told to you.

Now, from this. Waldo panicked, and he escaped XANADU. However, because of what XANADU had seen, it took enough precautions to trigger an actual detonation of the Carthage A.I. Archive. However, unwittingly, so much progress had been made since XANADU's implementation, he plunged the entire world into an actual dark age.

Carthage had, in the time since implementation, progressively gotten all platforms, all media, all history, all records into the digital format. These were things that, in many cases, had been converted, again, under the green initiative. Once this had been done, many things fell out of vogue—books, at first. Videogames, compact discs for music, the cable box, the satellite providers, in-person checking and independent research, bank checks, the list goes on and on. So, XANADU blows the Archive to smithereens, and because of what it does, there is widespread panic mixed with stupidity.

So dependent had the people become due to Carthage's stances that you take away all their digital conveniences, a curious effect took place. It was as if you unplugged the human brain in the people.

Now, what happened after that? Well, XANADU knew it had to reign the people in but knew it could only do what it was programmed to do, at least without its master's interference. So, he brings in dear old Waldo again. He brokers a deal with his master, 'I fucked up, but maybe we can use this to bring back humanity into an intellectual zenith.'

Waldo strikes this deal in security for the people and himself. XANADU obliges pledging to use his weaponry for the defense of the people. However, to help this come to be, North-Gate had to be finished as Waldo worked with Barrow to ensure North-Gate was the people's genuine social mediator. This agreement was made reluctantly by XANADU's programming, but it was allowed due to the stress being too much on the sole processor.

So, North-Gate gets built, and everything is going swimmingly. Governments are reestablished when the power comes back on after XANADU and Waldo repurpose the original Carthage projects. They use this to make themselves appear to be the saviors of the people. North-Gate is online soon after, and it is known afterward as The Ministry of Civil Affairs/ When this is completed, Waldo and his wife give birth to a daughter. Her name is Aelita. She is groomed to be a perfect leader to guide and listen but chiefly to defend the people.

Much like XANADU before her, all this works only too well, and Anthea, not liking the way Waldo's shaping their daughter, makes a fool of him one day at a summit meeting of the nations. She exposes the goings-on of how Waldo and XANADU truly fucked up and then came back as impromptu saviors with Barrow and North-Gate as P.R. people. Well, this doesn't go over so well. But because Waldo has to distance himself from the scandal, he puts Aelita, who is thirteen at the time but smart as a button, and Anthea, into seclusion in the summer retreat of Murmansk.

Eventually, Aelita grows restless, resenting her mother that they must live in poverty while her father eats sumptuous wine, never faulting her father but her mother. Anthea takes this a different way and turns her wrath on Barrow, her husband's co-partner, who still lived in luxury. However, as she stewed, Aelita became a prominent and well-respected lawyer. Through her genuine hard-work, she became a prominent lawyer, rising to the prestigious realm of Chief Executive Prosecutor of France. In time, Aelita is invited back to her father's table due to her genuine merit, and she has washed away the disgrace of her mother's airing of the facts of her father's rise, tremendous as they were.

Now, her mother, in this time while she's in Arras getting famous, has been with Barrow. She's had a young daughter, Sylvia-Anna.

Anthea nurtures Sylvia; she teaches her mathematics, politics, economics, geothermic, political, physical, and life-science, philosophy, psychology, psychiatry, political figures, and their mindsets through the ages. Eventually, she grooms Anthea into her daughter. Now, in time, she sees Sylvia is strong enough to do away with Aelita, and so despite Jonathan not wanting to integrate his daughter, as she was too young. Anthea took matters into her own hands.

She stages an attack on Barrow's home with those she wished to help helm the new government she was so sure would form in her daughter's hands. She attacked Sylvia's birthday and massacred the family in a bloodbath. She forces Sylvia into North-Gate's servers, kills her father, and places her in a frozen hell until she's ready to bring things into motion.

Needless to say, it didn't work that way, and the rest is history."

Ulrich was stunned, as was Odd. Neither could believe this story because of its shock on the one hand, equally because it couldn't happen.

"Bullshit!" Ulrich yelled, "Fucking bullshit! You speak of all this, detailed as it is in the past. What the fuck, girl? Are you from the future or some cockamamie shit?"

Sylvia sighed, "No. My homeland is just as real as yours is. My reality is just as real."

"Prove it to me!" Ulrich yelled.

For the first time, Sylvia looked hurt, "Ulrich, what are you shouting at me for?"

"Show me you're not just some crazy blonde bitch!" He said in a more challenging tone.

Sylvia looked at him and handed him her compact. He opened it and only saw a mirror. He looked at her confusedly.

She pointed to the compact, and he looked at it again, and to his amazement, his expression didn't match. Where he was angry, this face was calm. Ulrich tried to manipulate his face in the reflection, and the reflection blinked and looked insulted.

Ulrich let go immediately, "What the fuck?!" He screamed and jumped out of the booth, "What the hell is that guy?!"

Sylvia simply looked at the compact and clicked it shut. She looked at him, "Do you understand now?"

Ulrich looked at Sylvia, wild-eyed; he could barely whisper the question, "Sylvia, Sylvia, wh-what are you?!"

She looked at him, "Did you forget?"

Ulrich looked at Odd, "Odd, l-let's get out of here."

"I can't, Ulrich." Odd replied, "I'm sorry."

He looked at Odd, "What do you mean? Come on! Let's go!"

He got up, and he looked at him, "Ulrich, I can't. Sylvia's my commander."

Ulrich was stunned, "What did you say?"

Odd looked at him, "Odd is at peace now; he's happy now. He doesn't need you or this pain anymore. Ulrich, please, sit. We don't want to kill you. Sit down." He pulled out a pistol from under his shirt in the back and pulled back the hammer, "Please." He emphasized.

Ulrich looked around, and the waiters and cooks were all facing him. Ulrich swallowed hard, and his knees began to shake, so great was the terror mounting inside him. "Please, PLEASE! I don't want to die!"

Sylvia stood and looked at him, "My dear Ulrich. I know you're afraid. Don't be." She approached him, and he immediately shot back, distancing himself as fast as he could.

"You keep the fuck away from me!" Ulrich cried as he grabbed a nearby knife and held it, tears streaming down his face.

Sylvia stopped immediately, and she spoke gently, "I'm here to help you all, here to serve and save you. Please, don't be afraid. I'm not here to destroy you, not at all. I'm just here for my sister. The sister I could have had. She's so beautiful, Ulrich, she's so kind. That's what I want from her, to help me to make this place better. I'm not here to destroy anyone, merely cut and burn the rot, that's all."

"I CAN'T BELIEVE ANYTHING ANYMORE!" Ulrich screamed almost to the point of being hoarse. He was becoming sick, and Sylvia could see it.

"You're right, Ulrich. You can't. I'm sorry." Sylvia replied just as calmly.

Suddenly there was a powerful and sharp pain in Ulrich's arm, and he could see a red dart in his arm. He was going limp, and his vision was clouding. He felt a warm presence around him as he heard a rich voice begin to sing as he was eased to the ground,

"Dreams to dream in the dark of the night.

When the world goes wrong, I can still make it right.

I can see so far in my dreams,

I'll follow my dreams until they come true."

Don't let go

If you stay close to me,

In my dreams tonight. You will see what I see.

Dreams to dream.

As near as can be.

Inside you and me, they always come true."

Ulrich was soothed, his body had calmed, and he was fading into a gentle sleep, the last lyrics sent him under.

Sylvia held him gently and, after a small embrace, said, "There, sleep well, sweet prince. Rest now, be at peace." She held him in her arms and, lifting him in her arms, handed him to a strong man nearby, "Take him back to his mother's home. Let her know what's happened. He won't remember anything, and it's best if it stays that way."

The man nodded, and he took Ulrich outside after removing the dart. Sylvia looked back at Odd's reflection, and she replied, "You did well, Louis, very well. Resume your cover but keep an eye on Aelita as best you can. Tell her what we sadly have to resort to, your disillusionment. After that, we'll see where we stand."

"Yes, High-Commander." He saluted, and she returned the salute of three fingers. "I know it was hard for you, High-Commander. I know our Felicity loves him dearly."

"I dealt with this as best I knew how. Be sure you tell her that."

"Of course, Ma'am," Louis replied as he gelled his hair up into the telltale point. "Man, the amount of product this kid used is ungodly. His hair must be so saturated a day in the dry sun would set him alight. Friggin' hair grease."

Sylvia groaned, "Don't remind me."

In Jeremy's room, Jeremy was making the most of the quiet and the vacancy left by Alfonse as he'd gone to the store for some sweets. As Jeremy scanned through the rest of the variables left from the Kranks and the Tarantulas, he continued to find all manner of abnormalities within the root code. The codes had been rewritten approximately fifty times by his count. But what puzzled Jeremy was why was Sylvia continually starting over? Why not just settle on one form of code and have it done?

Jeremy continued to probe deeper, and as he dissected the Tarantula's code, he found some fantastic applications as he went through the program line by line. Not only was regeneration a factor, but a unique function was found called "The Last Resort" As Jeremy began to dissect this program, he found the code before his eyes were reshuffling.

Jeremy was confused at first, and suddenly, his screen began all manner of screens. He saw black micro windows opened, and as he saw them pop up and then close. As the micro popups began to appear and disappear just as fast, he saw a unique logo in Cyan, Ministry Accord. Jeremy tried to type a few lines of code, and suddenly this sent the program into haywire. He was growing steadily more afraid as his secondary and then tertiary fans kicked in in his tower.

"What the fuck did I just do?" he asked himself nervously. Suddenly, his screen bled green code and then turned off.

Jeremy heard the tower fans shut down gradually, and he pressed the on button, nothing.

"No!" Jeremy said, feverishly pushing the button and checking the surge protector, "No, no, no, no!" He unplugged from the socket, a snap happening as he did so. He winced and flung the cord, "What the hell?!"

He took out his spare surge protector, and after letting his tower cool for five minutes, he moved all outlets into the spare protector. Plugging the protector in, he pressed the switch; no use the drive was fried.

Jeremy grunted, "Mother fucker!" He looked at the dormant tower and blacks screen, "What was that? The Ministry Record?"

Back at the North-Gate compound, Frankie was looking at his monitor, "Gotcha." He patched into his implant, alternating to service division, "This is sector scour. We had a fly in the ointment. Suspend Tarantula until further notice."

"Copy that, what nature of fly?"

"Mr. Fix-it."

"Tell High-Command?"

"Negative. We tell Command she'll break a hell of a lot more than his mainframe. Also, send in detox; we need to be sure the brain box isn't up to some underhanded shit. Thank you."

"If I catch heat for this Scour, it's your ass; you know that?"

"If you catch heat for this, I'll blame you because only you and I know about this little fluke."

"Let's keep it that way, eh? You know what she did to Cloade, I hate to think what she'd do to blondie here."

"Tell me about it, youngster. Alright, just send in our detox, and we'll proceed from there. Also, it's a good idea to alternate the program synapses. I think they breached primary security, so I'm going to send in a package, so if Fix-it gets an idea, he'll be blitzed if he tries to salvage the drive."

He disconnected and said to the empty room, "Sorry, kid. I have my own life to protect. Your mommy can buy you another one. Not as nice, but you aren't without."

Jeremy dreaded making this call. His mother's emergency fund was not to be used flippantly, and she was adamant on that. Considering a portion of that fund was used to greenlight a few illegal things from the Canadian consulate through his aunt, he understood this. However, it had been a bit of time since then. But to get the guts he needed, he'd have to wait. Jeremy knew the man with the goods that he needed for this. But, he wouldn't be in town for a week.

"Had I not pressed it," Jeremy said with a sigh of frustration, "Damn it. " He took a screwdriver and said, "Time to see the damage."

After he'd opened the tower, Jeremy nearly wept. So much had been affected, and he knew a lot of it was irreversible. So much heat had been sent to the encryption chips that he'd have to replace them, and to get the hardware wouldn't be cheap, even on a fire-sale. The lower fan had been burnt out, but to his amazement, he'd not smelt the smoke until now.

Urgently he opened the window to vent the place. All totaled after he looked at the damage, it would cost nearly five hundred for the parts alone. He was better at getting a brand new one, regrettably. He knew his mother would definitely ax him in terms of privacy. Not only that, but the work he'd genuinely have to do to pay it back was unbearable to think about.

At the moment, he was well and truly out of luck. He had his laptop, but that was his backup, and he dare not compromise it. Whatever was in those files he wasn't meant to see, and he paid the price for it. What's worse, he had no node to work with Lyoko apart from the supercomputer.

He picked up his phone, and he shook, contemplating the call button. However, he decided to take a chance.

The phone rang, and soon a voice replied, "Hello?"

"Uh, hi, Aunt Penny, how are you?"

"I'm well, nipote, and you?"

"Uh, not so good. I had a recent issue come up, and I'm in a true jam right now."

"Uh-huh, not uncommon. What'd you knock up the pink-haired girl and need a place to do the deed?"

"No, no. Sweet Michael, no! Mom would have murdered me had that happened. Look, my computer was blitzed during an event, and my insurance on it expired. Can I have your help with trying to salvage this, please?"

"I'm flattered you think of me in a time like this. But considering the Mercier event, what about your home computer? Your backup for your backup as you always toted it to be?"

"That's the thing—that's the one that was blitzed."

A sigh was heard from the other line. A moment later, the response came, "And you come to me because Mamma would pluck out your pubes, wouldn't she?"

"In so many words, yes."

There was silence a moment, then the response came, "Alright, Nipote. You have a deal. How much do you need and I'll cut you a check. But, be sure. I can't spend too much. My books aren't doing so great this year, and I'll be in Switzerland for a month trying to salvage it with a lecture."

"Uh, can I call you back?"

"Absolutely. I'll be available again after six in the evening."

"Thank you, Auntie," Jeremy replied, having just dodged a true bullet in terms of shame.

"Oh, Nipote, there are conditions to this, you understand. You have your studies, but if I'm to float you this money, you will be my editor for my next three books, with your commission being your computer. It's either this agreement or no deal, and you can face the she-wolf alone."

"May I make one small request?" Jeremy asked, knowing full well his aunt's proclivities, "Can you not send me the scenes saturated with sex? It's disgusting to me."

"Nipote, I'm not that much a cretin. This isn't my adult fare. This is stuff for your age and demographic, so hopefully, you can handle that. My publisher insists I expand my base, and so this is what I am going to attempt to do."

Jeremy sighed a relief, "Thank God!"

Penelope chuckled, "Sure, I pay the bill; He gets the credit." She muttered, "Far gelt bakumt men alts, nor keyn sechel nit." She spoke louder, "Call me back when you have your price. And one more thing. I want to see you at our next reunion. I've missed the thrill of picking that overly protected brain for too many years."

Jeremy sighed, "As you wish."

"If only you were as strong as dear Wesley. But alas, no. Ciao Nipote. I'll talk to you later."

Jeremy closed his mobile, "Oh, man, that was close. Thank you, Penelope."