Chapter 6: Letting Go

Daniel stood against the wall, trembling slightly, trying to quell the surge of energy he had experienced. It had passed very quickly, leaving him breathless and dizzy.

"Are you alright?" His PE teacher bent down to look him in the eye. He gave a suspicious glance up the corridor, at Brian's retreating back. "Was that lad gein' you hassle?"

Daniel shook his head. He felt somehow loathed to tell. This was something he would deal with himself.

"Naw, sir. I'm fine. He was just being an arsehole, that's all." His PE teacher didn't look convinced, but he straightened up.

"Aye, well, if he gies you any more hassle, you let a teacher know, okay?" Daniel nodded an affirmative.

Interfering human... Growled Vritramon, almost in a whine, as though denied a treat, Someday, kid, you'll feel that again. And when you do, there won't be anyone who will stop you. His tone took on an almost proud note. Maybe you're not as weak as I thought you were.

Daniel was still recovering from the rush, his heart still pounding. Despite the almost frightening consequences, he felt... Drunk.

The power he had felt was an intoxicating blend of fearlessness and fury. His was a fury that could not be denied or questioned because it was deserving of release. He was being wronged. And he was angry. He had every right to pound Brian. Why should he restrain himself? Why?

Catching his breath, he suddenly felt a cold inrush of what he had felt prior his odd experience. Fear and guilt quenched the burning flame of his righteous fury. He suddenly felt so low he wanted to weep. He was a punching bag. And no amount of shouting back or unexpected attacks of stupidity would change that.

Close to tears, he grabbed his bag, hoisted it over his shoulder and ran in the opposite direction of his class, toward the school gates.

Anubis stood erect within a thick reinforced tube filled with liquid nitrogen, its eyes closed, as though in peaceful sleep. The chamber was fairly large, bathed in a clean white glow, glancing off the polished surfaces, but seemingly absorbed by the black rubberised floor. A floor designed for both safety and silence; one could drop a glass chandelier upon this floor and it would absorb at least half the noise. Technicians in orange work suits were working consoles around its icy chamber, maintaining almost complete silence as they worked, using signs to signal each other. The monitors gave various status reports, a few gave off gentle beeps.

Through a large Lucite barrier, two men stood on the opposite side. One was a man in an impeccably well kept black suit with tie. He had a binder under his arm. A name badge pinned to his chest. Upon it was the name C. Reiley. The other man was an elderly man with greying hair which was wild and thrown about, as though he had never bother (or had time) for grooming. He wore a long lab coat that almost brushed the floor, a set of pens in a chest pocket and a small palmtop in his hands as he examined the reports on screen. He too had a nametag: R. Turcotte.

The man named Turcotte had an aged face, lined with his many years of age, but sharp eyes and an alert countenance suggested a shrewd mind. He held his handheld PDA in one hand, reading the reports on it, and chewing the side of his index finger as he read, a habit he had when tense or pensive and had resulted in a coarse callous on his finger.

The other man, Reiley, was waiting patiently for him to finish his reading. To him, it was somewhat fascinating to examine the myriad of expressions passing over Turcotte's elderly face. Sometimes his eyebrows would arch in apparent surprise, other times they would dive together, his eyes narrowed and mouth slightly open as if wondering what on Earth he was reading. The impression he got in general, though, was not good.

"Is Garret really serious?" He said finally.

"Can it be done?" Reiley asked. Turcotte looked up into Reiley's grey eyes, as though checking whether he was joking.

"This procedure breaks almost every scientific and ethical rule in science! Not to mention a few laws, national and international!" He protested.

"Mr Turcotte, please." Reiley said, raising his hands placatingly, "Do not get so excited."

"Excited?" Turcotte shrilled, sounding almost insulted.

"Can you or can you not perform the procedures detailed?" Reiley insisted. Turcotte glanced back at his PDA and scrolled the contents.

"This... Would require a live human subject. Were on Earth are you going to find a volunteer?"

"You let us worry about that. Can you do it?" Reiley snapped, his voice rising. Turcotte's anger abated and was replaced by fear. He was old, and his strength for handling these kinds of pressures had long since left him. With a tone of defeat, he replied,

"Yes, I suppose we could have some of the more loyal staff trained, persuaded. But they too will have their apprehensions."

"Then I trust you to talk them round." Said Reiley, his eyes glinting with triumph.

"But a human subject? Is that really necessary?"

"Come now, Turcotte. You have used human tissues in the Avatars. A great deal of human DNA went into Anubis, I believe."

"Yes, tissue. And only for key parts of the brain and spinal cord structures. We are talking about surgically altering a human, on a physical level and genetic level, to... to this..." He waved the PDA with apparent disgust. Behind the glass, Anubis stirred in its sleep. It moved in a slow lazy motion, as though stirring from a deep sleep. The technicians in the chamber began moving away from the tank in alarm, but Anubis simply stopped moving and was in deep sleep again in moments. No sound could be heard through the Lucite window, but it was obvious a sigh of collective relief was passing through the chamber.

"Mr Garret complimented you on your choice of physical template for the Anubis model, Professor. I don't see why you cannot repeat and improve your original design, only this time you will not only have all the files and technology salvaged from the DGDR, but a living human host to improve."

"But a human cannot be returned to their original form once the initial surgical procedures are complete. Adding structures like added strength, physical constitution and athletic abilities can only be reversed to a point, but even then it would be of benefit to the host. But this?" Reiley clucked his tongue in sympathy.

"Now, now, Professor. You and Mr Garret have been working together for a long time now. Fifteen years is a long time for friendship and trust to be nurtured. Surely you trust Mr Garret?"

Turcotte looked frustrated. "Yes, but he has recently been asking more and more outrageous things of me. Deploying Anubis while he was undergoing regeneration. Deleting Dra-strain specimens to salvage their data..."

"They are programs, nothing more." Interrupted Reiley.

"But sentient ones. Conscious ones."

"No more conscious than a chess program."

"No, they are..." He caught himself before blurting out something. He realised the staff on the other side of the window were watching.

"Kindly control yourself, Professor." Reiley muttered under his breath. He pulled the Professor so they were standing with their backs to the window.

"What were you saying? They are alive? I beg to differ. They are nothing more than code. Code given physical form. Think of them as nothing more than advanced AI programs, because that is all they really are."

"They have been officially recognised as life forms by the UN and almost every single authority in the world. They have emotions. We know that as fact. You cannot dismiss their feelings and thought as aberrations or acts of an AI playing the part."

"This is about that incident, isn't it?" Turcotte was silent, looking into the middle distance as though lost in thought. Reiley shook his head in exasperation, though discreetly.

"I do not wish to push you, but I will if I have to." He said finally, ducking his head close and lowering his voice, "Put that behind you. You have a job to do and a country to serve. The United States of America is looking to us to make their lives just a little bit better. In fact, the whole world is waiting. You need not be a patriot, but just a man with a conscience."

Turcotte didn't seem convinced, but he straightened up and coughed, dispelling his previous dejection.

"I will discuss the matter with my staff. Some may not be willing to participate after that... Fiasco with Sehkmet."

"Now that you mention staff..." said Reiley, seizing the opportunity, "I have a someone we transferred t your Division for her expertise." He handed him the binder from under his arm. Curious, Turcotte opened it and a photograph of the head and shoulders of a young woman, quite pretty and slender with a shock of black hair. She had quite pale skin, almost ghost-like. Her name read Y. Lewton.

"Yvette is quite a capable woman. I assure you she will be quite a worthwhile addition to your team."

"Wait, I haven't decided to take her on!"

"No need. She starts work in your department today."

"But you can't do that! My Division is under my jurisdiction! Not even Garret can impose things like that on me without my permission!"

"Would you prefer to take it up with him?" Turcotte glared into Reiley's eyes and knew he had won. Turcotte knew better than to argue with Garret.

"Fine," he said, dejectedly, snatching the file, "I'll bring her up to speed."

"Good man." Reiley stood up straight and turned toward the door at the end of the corridor. "Good day, Professor."

When Daniel got off his bus just down the street from his home, he was very nearly in tears. He couldn't explain it. He was sitting there, simmering underneath at the indignity of Brian's unprovoked violence against him, when he suddenly felt tears prickling his eyes. Before he knew it, he had been doing his utmost to stop the tears flowing. The last thing he needed was to be seen crying on a public bus, in front of everyone. Many on the bus were old women, perhaps they would have been sympathetic to his plight, but in his mind that only strengthened his resolve not to cry. It didn't help that most passengers, as well as the driver had been giving him odd looks. He was truanting after all, but no one said anything.

It had been a blessing to finally alight just a few yard from his home. He rushed up his drive, fumbled his keys and unlocked the door. He heard his mother call from the living room, but he didn't care. He ran straight upstairs, slammed his door shut and collapsed on the bed.

Why are humans so emotional? Vritramon said in a thoughtful voice, as though he were thinking to himself and unwittingly transmitting them, Such a delicate thing. He growled in displeasure and fell silent. Daniel ignored him. His tears were dying down, and he was grateful for that at least.

There was a knock on the door.

"Daniel?" His mother gently opened the door, "Son, what's wrong? How are you home so early?"

"I didna feel well, mum. I took a bus." He instantly regretted it, though. She came into the room and moved over to his bed and placed a hand on his forehead. He saw that horrified look in her face, knew he had frightened her.

"I mean I wisna well, but ma hearts okay, y' know?" She still looked worried and suggested she call a doctor. Daniel insisted he would be okay and to throw her off asked what was for dinner.

"Yorkie puds and chicken, your favourite." She smiled slightly, "Still got your appetite, eh?"

Daniel was tempted to say no, but nodded an affirmative. She stood and left the room, pausing only slightly to glance back, then she was gone. Daniel groaned and turned over, trying to calm the raging emotions inside him.

This 'mom' of yours... Asked Vritramon, Who is she? Why do you just barge into her house and make yourself at home? And why would she care for you? Daniel didn't like the emphasis on 'you'. He pulled a pillow over his head, apparently forgetting it was pointless.

"Aww, shut it. Ah'm tired. And stop talking. If somebody catches me talkin' tae mysel', they'll think I'm mad."

You presume to tell ME when to talk? Demanded Vritramon haughtily, I'll talk when I feel like it, human. I was wrong. You are just as arrogant as the rest of your kind.

Too exhausted to take offence, he rolled over and curled up, trying to ignore Vritramon as he started grumbling on once again about humans, his predicament, humans, the unfairness of being trapped, humans, life in general and humans, and...

Turcotte addressed the staff assembled in front of him. They were Henry Palmer, his chief Engineer, in charge of the maintenance and systems staff. He was quite an obese American, with slightly balding brown hair and a youngish face, like that kind of man who gave an impression of boyishness even when in their forties.

The next was Adam Frederick, who was English. He was the head biologist, anthropologist and genealogist. He was almost the opposite of Palmer, being very tall and quite skinny, with black hair with strands of grey. He had a narrow face, sallow and sunken with age and stress. A smouldering cigarette was stuck between his pursed lips. He was watching the new arrival intently.

Third along was Louise Rodriguez, an American programmer. She was considered to be a genius in programming almost anything from a simple five-line set of code to a prototype Digimon. The youngest member of staff, she had shoulder length blonde hair and a set of freckles on her cheeks.

Fourth and final member, excluding the new arrival, was Karl Bauer, Physicist, mathematician and general scientician. He was generally referred to for any practical problems with designing their creations, creating the implants and selecting ideal materials, programming concepts and more. He was a youngish man in his early thirties of German origin.

There had been many curious glances at the new woman who now sat at the end of the table, between Palmer and Bauer. She was immaculately dressed in a dark navy suit and tie, looking very much, as Palmer quietly commented to Frederick, like a corporate executive. Her black hair fell down on either side of her face, glossy and straight. Pretty was an understatement, yet she had an air of arrogance about her, one that led them to give her suspicious glances.

"As I'm sure you have noticed, we have a new staff member. Miss Yvette Lewton, our new liaison with Division eight. She will be responsible for communication and exchange of information and ideas with the staff of Division eight's' new Bioengineering section. As you will recall, we have agreed to assist them in their upcoming project."

Frederick muttered something, pulling his cigarette out slightly and blowing the smoke out with a quiet whoosh. He eyed Yvette suspiciously.

"So what is this new project they were harping on about?" demanded Rodriguez. She leaned forward and stared up at Turcotte. He swallowed. This was not going to be easy.

"Perhaps you should review the report I compiled on the new project," he pulled up a pile of binders and passed them around. He waited anxiously as they flicked idly through their briefs, except Yvette, who simply sat still, watching them with mild interest.

The first to break the silence was Palmer.

"What the hell? You can't be serious." He looked up at Turcotte. "This is a joke, right?" He smiled at Turcotte, as though expecting him to burst out laughing and saying 'gotcha.' His smile rapidly faded when he saw the sombre look on Turcotte's face. One by one, the others stopped reading and looked up at Turcotte, each looking either bemused, wondering if this was some sort of joke, or outraged.

"'Project Paradigm?'" Rodriguez spoke aloud.

"This can't be right." Said Bauer, "It says on a live human subject."

"That is correct." Everyone looked at Yvette. She had a small smile.

"Miss Lewton," said Frederick sternly, "I remind you of Clause 12 a section 14 that clearly forbids experimentation of this manner on a human subject."

"Unwilling human subject, Mr Frederick. We have a volunteer in mind."

"Volunteer!?" Rodriguez demanded, "And just who is this nutcase?"

"You will be told in due course." She said, grinning widely.

"Miss Lewton," interrupted Turcotte. All eyes turned to him. "While you are on my staff, I remind you that I am in charge. Any and all information pertinent to this project is to be relayed to my team and myself. There is to be no keeping of secrets while you are working under me. I expect a full report on who the test subject is- assuming there is one- and I want it by tomorrow. If there is a problem with this, please feel free to see me in my office after the meeting." Yvette's smile disappeared.

"Of course Professor."

"I want you all to review the details of this project. Also," he leant forward and looked each member in the eye, "I understand each of you will probably have apprehensions about this. Any doubts or questions, anything at all, drop me a line. Come to my office or give me a message, whatever." He gave one more look around at each person. Then he stood back, gazing down at them. "Dismissed."

Everyone had just left, except Rodriguez and Yvette, when Yvette placed a hand on her arm.

"Excuse me, Miss Rodriguez?" The programmer turned round. "Might I ask you a question?"

"Sure." Yvette guided her away from the door.

"What is your opinion of Professor Turcotte?" Rodriguez seemed taken aback. She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I think he is an excellent scientist. A respected man in his field."

"As a person, I mean. I have heard he is quite... emotional." Yvette masterfully danced around the word, but Rodriguez' distrust of her helped her to see her craft.

"He is an ethical man, if that is what you mean." She said testily.

"Ethics and science? Quite an uncommon mixture, don't you think?"

"Only for those who abuse it. And he has good reason to doubt the good intentions of Division eight. I don't know where it is you came from, but you were accepted pretty quickly for someone who has no record of previous employment in a scientific institution."

"And what would his reason be for that?" Pressed Yvette. Rodriguez glanced furtively at the door.

"I'm not sure if I should tell you this," she started.

"I believe Professor Turcotte has just informed me to be open with my work and thoughts with this team. Please, oblige me with the same favour." Yvette insisted. Rodriguez sighed and glanced again at the door.

"Do you know about the Sehkmet fiasco?" Yvette nodded.

"Indeed. I believe that was when one of the Digital specimens awoke moments prior to deconstruction." Her voice was chillingly neutral. Rodriguez stared at her like she had just sworn foully.

"You sound like it was just a regular occurrence. Do you have any idea what happened?"

"No, enlighten me." She folded her arms patiently. Rodriguez seemed hesitant to talk, but Yvette persuaded her.

"Back when Sehkmet was being constructed, back when it was still comprised entirely out of artificial and salvaged human components and synthetic materials, we were going to deconstruct a Digital Monster-namely a Flamedramon- and use his data to build parts of Sehkmet. Of course we were told he had volunteered." She added, eyeing Yvette with suspicion.

"Go on."

"He woke up moments prior to the deconstruction process. Just woke right there in the chamber. Do you know what he did?" Yvette shook her head. "He had been told before sedation, no doubt by some sick bastard gloating over him, that he was going to be broken down for use in an experiment. As soon as he woke up, saw he was trapped in a tube, he began hammering on the tube to be let out." Yvette raised an eyebrow.

"I've heard their survival instincts are quite realistic." This time Rodriguez burst out angrily,

"Realistic? He was a fucking real being! He fell to his knees and sobbed like a kid, knowing he was going to die. Don't give me your bullshit; programs don't do that, cry I mean, when they know they're numbers' up. Survival hell, he was terrified of dying."

"But that is what programs do," Yvette replied evenly, "They mimic that which they were created to emulate. They were created to emulate real creatures. That is what they do. Codes of instructions and commands telling them how to react to a given situation according to how a real creature would is not the same as being alive."

Rodriguez seemed like she would slap Yvette if some sense of control hadn't held her back.

"You know what?" She said finally, her eyes glinting with suppressed rage, "Forget I said anything. You executive types are all the same." With that, she stormed out.

Daniel stirred to an odd feeling permeating his body. It felt like a gentle heat simmering under his skin. He slowly opened his eyes.

He let out a startled cry. His covers were illuminated brightly. Thinking he was on fire, he threw the covers off and sat bolt upright. His heart skipped a beat.

It wasn't the bed or the covers. It was him.

His skin was glowing a deep red. Like a torch shining through a finger, his skin was shining, as though there was a light inside him. Only, he didn't find this the strangest thing.

The strangest thing was he was not afraid.

On the contrary, he smiled. He leapt off the bed and walked to the window. To his surprise, the sun was still up. He had only slept a few hours. He grinned widely and pulled his shoes on. He wanted to take a walk. He slipped a thick sweater on to disguise the light, though he needn't have bothered; the light slowly faded.

Someone is in a bright mood. Vritramon growled. Daniel simply combed his hair, still filled with his inexplicable euphoria.

"Aye, I dunno what's up. Mebbe you're havin some kind of influence on me. Whatever it is..." He grinned wider, "It's good."

Am I just the greatest thing to happen to you or what? Vritramon sounded quite flattered.

Daniel bounded down the stairs, startling his parents.

"Daniel! Watch the noise!" His father scolded him, but Daniel simply hugged him and entered the kitchen, leaving his father staring after him bewildered.

It took a few minutes to persuade his mother to allow him out. Strangely, he felt compelled to leave. He felt a kind of energy, a lust for something, and he had no idea what it was he wanted. He just knew he had to get out there.

You ARE in a good mood. Vritramon commented, sounding surprised. What's gotten into you?

"You did." He answered. He left his house and walked down his street toward the town centre with no particular destination in mind. He didn't notice the glow had subsided and didn't care anyway.

He wandered toward the glen. He was still quite puzzled as to why he was feeling so energetic. If this was how athletes felt on a daily basis, he vowed to start training right away.

The sun was just peeking above the horizon, though the view was hidden by the multitude of trees in the glen. The wind wisped gently across his face, soothing him. The rustle of the wind through the oaks and chestnut trees was strangely appealing. He wondered vaguely what had happened to him. He wasn't normally this interested in nature.

He trotted down a path between a patch of grass used for football and a swing park. Some children were swinging and laughing. Their mothers were sitting on a bench, the prams parked in front of them, chatting. He hadn't felt so at peace for a long time.

"So you decided to show yersel' Higgins." Daniel had barely turned when a sudden, sharp blow to the back of the head sent him sprawling. He already knew it was Brian. He clasped his hands over the back of his head, groaning. He curled up and moaned softly.

Brian, with his seven foot frame and his three mates, Gary Andrew and Paul stood over him, glaring at him.

Brian was big, but Andrew and Gary were massive. They were built like tanks and packed a punch like one. Paul was the smallest and weakest of the group, but was probably the nastiest in his words and deeds.

"Wee Danny boy, all alone and greetin'," he sneered in his whiny, high-pitched voice. "Mah mate Brian told me you were bein' cheeky. I think we all know what happens to we cheek bastarts, don't we lads?"

The troupe grunted their agreement.

Not again, groaned Vritramon, sounding annoyed. It was so absurd, hearing Vritramons' tone in his situation that he laughed. He was rewarded with a harsh kick to the ribs. He cried out.

"Oh, so you're still being a cheeky wee bastart are ye?" Brian stepped forward. He picked Daniel up by the neck and held him, the front of his jumper bunched in his fist. He brought the other fist back, ready to strike.

Get him, kid. Vritramon growled, Teach the big duff a lesson. Hit him!

"Smash his face in, Brian!" crowed Gary.

"Fuckin' smash him!" Andrew agreed.

Hit back! You're better than this freak! FIGHT YOU FOOL!

What happened next, Daniel wasn't really sure. All he knew was, one moment he was held by the throat, staring into Brian's grinning face and knowing his face was about to be mashed by his beefy fist. The next, he was free, standing opposite them, staring into their frightened faces.

"Now," he snarled, his voice no longer his own, "I'll show you who is the fool!"

Daniel clenched his fists. From deep inside, he felt something stirring. It was like a force, but it had been wrapped up tightly, wound up, desperate for release. Now that it was coming, he felt unable to stop it.

Don't you just wanna let go, kid? Vritramon said softly, When you see red, when you feel that rage, doesn't it just feel natural to let it out on the deserving? Daniel couldn't help silently agreeing, with all his heart.

The four thugs watched in a kind of entranced horror as Daniel, little helpless Daniel, started glowing. He drew up to his full height, his fists clenched at his sides, as though he were lifting a weight bar.

Here we go, kid. Said Vritramon, becoming increasingly excited. This is the side of you I wanted to know. THIS is what makes you better than them. Pure, undiluted, righteous RAGE!

As soon as Vritramon had finished speaking, Daniel cried out as the force building up within him suddenly burst out, sending a wave of energy out. The wave was purple-black, with a strange symbol on the top, like a triangle with odd runes. He heard the startled cries of Brian and his thugs. He smirked in his powerful ascension. Let the fools tremble, he thought.

His skin was torn and shifted and his body stretched and warped. He screamed in agony, yet he was in bliss. His weak, frail human frame was being burned away in the purity of flame, in the righteous rage consuming the dross of his cowardice.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped. Daniel was left with his eyes close, his head raised toward the sky. He could still hear Brian. No... He could smell Brian. He could sense his foul presence. He lowered his head and opened his eyes.

Now this... Vritramon intoned, Is the you I like, kid.