A letter left on the desk in Kaleb's office

Kaleb,

you will be on your own for a while now. And since I won't be able to talk to you for that time, I hope you will find this letter when you come back, because there are things I want you to know. You will probably be too angry at me to even read it. Maybe you will feel so betrayed by me, you retreat into Silence again, the very thing I've always kept you from. And maybe that would not be the worst solution. But I don't know. I thought for so long I did or that I would figure it out at last. But I didn't. All my solutions didn't work out.

But I'm counting on you not to be angry, not to hate me so much. No, I'm not counting on it, I know you won't do that. That's why this will work, because I know with which emotion you will react, with which emotion you always react. It's the same one that got me in the end. And I hate myself for using that against you too. But I can't think of that now. I have to forget that now or I will never pull this through. And that's not what I wanted to tell you…

What I wanted to tell you is: I'm trusting in you to make it. You will have to work things out on your own from here on. And I'm sorry I'm leaving you alone with this. But it was the only way.

You have the Net and a woman the NetMind destined for you to save. I know you don't share my – as you put it – almost religious faith in the NetMind, but it has only ever done me good. And I think we can agree that logically it is the best source of information on how to maintain the Net.

There is also something else I never told you about: When it got harder for me to hold on to sanity, to believing I could heal the Net, the NetMind started telling me to trust you. And it kept telling me so, the closer I got to you. I believed for a long time it meant you would help me complete my task. But now I think it showed me that there was another solution. You told me how you can touch the Net, seal it back together. Maybe it needs emotion to hold, but there are other ways to bring emotion back to it than my empathy. Silence is crumbling anyway. So I trust you to find those ways without me, even when you're angry, even when you hate me for using that trust right back on you to make you let me go. It was the hardest thing I ever did, but giving you another chance was worth it.

Do you remember how I once told you how the story of my parents scared me? How I said I was scared of how far emotion can bring you, but even more scared of never experiencing an emotion so deep it's worth dying for? I'm not afraid anymore, because I found that emotion with you.

I love you. So much that I am willing to go, so you can have a chance you cannot see as long as I'm in the way. I love you so much and I trust you so much that I'm laying my lifelong dream into your hands. You made me feel that deep. And no matter what you tell yourself: No one not good could ever do that. That is why I know you will do all the right things, all the things I couldn't, because I was too weak, too damaged or simply didn't have enough time. You won't fail where I did. I know deep down you have all the honor and goodness it takes.

I began this letter telling you, you will be alone for a while. And I thought I could do it, lie to you until the end. But I can't. I said I trust you. So I have to trust you not to kill my dream even if you know the truth. But you already do, don't you? You can feel that I'm gone and I won't come back. So there's really not much more to say.

I'm sorry I left you the way I did.

But I will never be sorry to have loved you the way I did.

Please don't kill my dream.

Yours always

Alja

Chapter 73

Even though she still had to concentrate hard to keep up her projection and the expansion of her shields, Alja's trained Arrow mind had taken in all her surroundings and all that had happened since she'd done her announcement in front of the cameras. Two armed guards and two Center-scientists had accompanied her through the empty, gray corridors. First they had passed the sections for mild reconditioning, rooms that almost looked like normal doctor's offices, then some other rooms with closed doors. A few times other Center personnel had exited one of them or passed her in the hallway. But there had been no visible reaction, no excitement. It was quiet in here, Silent.

Hold the shields, hold the projection. She repeated in her mind. There was nothing else to do. Everything else was taken care of. For the first time in a long time she no longer had to think about what to do. There was only one option, only one possible outcome. And it waited behind the unremarkable metal door with the small sign that simply read CR – comprehensive rehabilitation. The room was filled with technical equipment, computer screens that showed brain scans and against the back wall a treatment chair from which a labyrinth of wires led to the computers. Although Alja had never seen a rehab-room before, it made sense. A process so unnatural had to be conducted with lots of the IT the Psy had gotten so fond of. The Psy were so sure they could do everything better with technology than with what nature provided. Alice's words came back to her as she studied the room. But she didn't have much time before she was directed to the chair in the back, her legs and arms locked in integrated shackles. There was a short moment of almost relief as the metal braces snapped shut around her limbs. Now everything she had to do was to wait for it to be over. It would be soon.

And then?

The question popped up out of nowhere. Everything had seemed so clear, so inevitable to her. But now, all of a sudden she realized the last few days had been a blur. The voices had been constantly whispering in the back of her mind. And she had been too weakened to push them back, mute them, or do anything else to lessen their impact. It was as if something intangible had driven her ever since she had looked into the desperate eyes of the boy who had shot her, ever since she had felt the whip of Kaleb's terror that had hit her at the same time as the bullet.

It had been the logic of emotion. She should have been used to it but she wasn't, since she had suppressed that part most of her life. That logic was different from the Psy logic she had been taught all her life. And it had led her to this point where she couldn't quite understand her own actions. –and they were her own. Somewhere along the way that insidious little voice she had tried to split off had truly become her own, inseparable from other impulses of her personality, like the one that welled up now: Out of nowhere her survival instinct pushed another thought into her mind: She was about to lose everything.

It didn't matter she told herself. It was inevitable. That was all she had to know.

All of this would have been so much easier if she had never met Kaleb, if she had still been as broken and as close to giving up as she was right before she met him. Now the only thing that made it even possible was the knowledge that she did it for him. But she felt alone. So alone, now that she knew how it felt not to be. She had cut out her heart when she blocked the bond between them and forced that unnatural projection into him. But she'd done it for him. Yes, there was logic to it, a sad, tragic logic.

She felt a small sting as the needle pierced her arm.

Soon it would be over.

She would lose everything. She didn't want to go.

But it was inevitable.

Contradicting thoughts battled in her already fuzzy mind. The Jax worked its way through her veins faster than she had expected. She had to concentrate to hold up both her projection and her shields long enough despite of the drugs. Maybe if she wasn't so confined inside her mind…

She stepped out on the psychic plane, removed all the safety blocks on her shields. For the first time it gave her a sense of freedom instead of fear. Because out here there was nothing left to fear. The dangers of the Net paled compared to the horror that spread from her body into her mind. She already felt its pressure building up.

She just wanted one last moment of peace before it reached her fully, one last look at the Net. Even in its coldness it was so beautiful. And she was probably never going to appreciate that again. She was never going to see it change, never going witness it come to life again, never going to experience that moment she had waited for all her life. But loving Kaleb and protecting him, had been worth it in the end. She knew that in a place, that would never been touched by the brain-destroying cocktail of meds she felt surge into her cells. At that thought peace rushed into her. Some part of her knew it wasn't real. It was the emotion she had conjured up to project on Kaleb. And she could no longer separate it from her real feelings, if she wanted to keep projecting. Why hadn't she thought of projecting on herself earlier? She could have spared herself a lot of pain. But no, that made no sense, she couldn't project on herself.

It got harder to concentrate. Her projective powers slipped her control in a way that was usually impossible. It felt nice though.

Suddenly a well-known presence brushed by her. Oh nice, the NetMind came to say goodbye. Everything felt nice now. Was this how it felt for Kaleb? And what would he do when she stopped? The nice feeling faltered. And piercing splinters of pain came through to her conscience.

The process had started.

From one moment to the next everything nice was gone and replaced by a strange mix of numbness and pain that seemed to spread everywhere, her body, her mind and worst of all inside the very core of her mind. Her shields were failing.

Help me. She messaged to the NetMind in a short burst of panic. To her surprise the neosentience answered with a strange, but somehow friendly telepathic voice.

Ah child, what have you done now?

The NetMind spoke. It actually spoke with a voice that sounded as clear as it was gentle. How can this be? She asked back.

It's the drugs. They open your mind. Its voice answered as if it had read the rest of her thoughts. Its tone was just as gentle as before but mixed with a note of something that almost sounded sad. Soon they will close it again for good. And then the NetMind showed her the same picture it had showed her a thousand times before. Veins filled with emotion that was the lifeblood of the Net. Only now she understood what it had been telling her. For a moment – before it all turned too complex, too confusing – she saw the whole picture and its terrible consequences.

It was enough to let the truth slam into her with the force of a deathblow, even as the drugs started to daze her mind: She had made a fatal mistake.

The Net would never survive without her. Kaleb wouldn't. Her people wouldn't. Because you didn't save people by walking away, not even by sacrificing yourself. The Net had come to this point because all of the Psy had separated from each other, left each other alone. Like she did now with Kaleb, with all of them. It could only have been mended, by standing together. She should have known it. But she had failed in the most final way. And she would go with that knowledge as the last thing on her mind. Shock and sheer desperation gripped her so hard it felt as if she were physically torn. But maybe that was the Jax too. She could no longer tell.

And through the endless pain the NetMind spoke again. But its voice held none of the reproach Alja had expected at her spectacular failing. It was full of understanding. I am sorry for the pain.

So calm. So peaceful.

It didn't fit the situation. It didn't fit anything. It should scald her for her failure, like the little voice always had, but somehow that was gone now.

No it couldn't! It mustn't! She had to get back out. She had to stop this, fix her mistake. But somehow she found she couldn't. She just couldn't get a grip on her thoughts through the blinding physical and emotional pain that surged through her entire being. Where would she go back to at all? Who would she go back to? She tried to hold on to herself but suddenly that seemed so hard.

It's alright. No more fighting. The NetMind said. I try to take away the pain. Rest!

I'm sorry I failed you. It was the last coherent sentence her mind formed.

I hold you. Maybe we die together.

She still heard the voice but the sentences became simpler again almost as when she'd translated the visual communication. And then there were visuals too: Open arms welcoming her to a home she'd never had. And somehow she wanted to come, somehow she knew she had always wanted. A faint, desperate memory of Kaleb floated through her disintegrating mind before the last of her resistance crumbled away and she let herself slip into those arms. And the NetMind gathered her in its embrace, away from the pain that burned along her nerves – and into another nightmare.

Aden and Vasic ran down another long hallway. The place was all but a labyrinth. But they had to be close to the center of the whole institution by now. Alja had to be here somewhere. The closer they came, the more guards they encountered. But none of them were a match for an Arrow. Another one came running towards them when they turned around the corner. Vasic pushed at him with Tk out of reflex and the man crashed back into the opposite wall.

"Her shields are fading," he stated at once. "They're retracting in that direction."

Aden sensed the blur of a teleport and a split second later they were standing further down the corridor. Vasic was following Alja's retreating shields. Another blur beside them and suddenly Kaleb was standing next to them. He didn't speak, didn't even look at them. He just started to run down the hallway further. Then teleported some feet. Ran again. And disappeared behind the wall.

Vasic followed closely with Aden until they were stopped by Alja's shield's once more right before a plain metal door.

Kaleb's hands slammed into the door. It didn't give.

He did it again, an almost inhuman scream tearing from his throat. This time the metal budged under his palms a little. Tk started to infuse his body's movement.

But not yet enough to get through.

She only wanted back. Nothing else mattered. Everything would be better than this. She tried to rip herself free of the embrace she had sought mere seconds ago. But it did not give in, no matter how she struggled. She wanted to scream. But there was no voice for her to command, not even breath. There was nothing she could command but her own mind. And that seemed to be crumbling fast under the pressure of the other presence that was with her. She was trapped, torn apart, desperately struggling to get back to herself. But the path was blocked. Instead there was something – someone else. There was suddenly so much more 'being', more self around her. The information started to swirl, just too much to be taken in by a single mind.

So this is how it ends.

It was no longer a conscious thought. It was awareness beyond thought or reason. Immovable. Final.

Slowly the sensation of being torn apart vanished to the background and everything became hazy, numbed. Alja's consciousness flickered. She just came back long enough to realize she'd been gone for a moment. But she wasn't scared. Not anymore. The emotions that had been such an integral part of her being, that had once made her who she was, were gone. She flickered again. Then her consciousness slowly slid away into the vastness of a cold, star-filled universe.

And for the eighth time in her life Alja felt death. Only this time it was her own.

For Kaleb everything seemed to have gone slow motion. His senses and perception had heightened under the adrenalin that rushed him as soon as Alja's projection faded away. Every second dragged on forever, giving him time to take in every excruciating detail: The small cracks in the color on the door. The almost liquid movement of the metal just before it finally gave in to his push. And then the stretched sound of the deafening blast with which it flew open at last, smashing the two Center employees who had been monitoring the rehabilitation, against the walls. One slid to the floor unconscious, the other seemed to bump off the wall, but instead of falling forward he started stumbling away towards the door at once.

Kaleb didn't react to him. As soon as he set his eyes on Alja he focused completely on her. He sent out the telekinetic impulse that would rip the IV needle form her arm and the wires from the headband that was attached to her skull but it seemed to take forever to reach its aim. He sensed the two Arrows entering behind him, moving just as slow as everything else. But his gaze was locked on her eyes. Eyes that were staring right at him but without recognition and too big, too dark. And while the wires and tube slowly floated away from her body he saw those eyes fill with even more darkness. Pure black was pooling inside them, the stars in them were no longer moving or even trembling. They were blinking out. One by one. And when the last pinprick of light vanished, time crashed in on him again.

With a few strides he took last distance between them and reached her just as the torn-off equipment from the treatment chair dropped to the floor beside it. Frantic movement started around him as more and more Arrows streamed into the room shutting down computers and other devices, some simply by pulling plugs and more wires.

Only Alja seemed to stay in that slow motion mode. She didn't move at all but for her head that very slowly dipped to one side as if she wanted to cock it at him. But her eyes didn't regain focus. Only a gaping, endless void stared back at him.

"No." he whispered dropping to his knees in front of her, searching for any sign of her in those empty, black eyes, finding none. And worse: he couldn't sense anything that resembled her on the psychic plane as well, although there no longer was any barrier that would protect her mind from his telepathic senses. No waterfalls, no shields. "ALJAAAAAH!" Her name turned into a strangled scream of agony on his lips.

Suddenly all movement around him seemed to stop and out of the corner of his eye Kaleb saw a small monitor beside the chair blink with a notification in simple, green glowing letters: process completed.

Behind him Aden gave a short command to the soldiers of the Squad. His voice was calm, measured and too toneless even for the most Silent. "Mission failed. Return to your previous tasks."

And one by one the Arrows vanished the way they had come, in absolute silence, some through windows or doors in adjacent corridors, most of them via teleportation.

With a soft click the shackles around Alja's arms and legs opened. She didn't react. Kaleb's hands clamped down at the armrests, his knuckles white from the force he applied. And he knew she was gone. Felt it with blinding certainty.

And then he started to fall.

He fell like he had that fateful night a few days ago when he'd teleported into the gorge behind his home to save Alja. Only this time it was his soul, not his body that tumbled down into an endless darkness. And when it hit the bottom it would shatter into madness. And this time no one would save him. The only one who could was gone.

He kept crashing past memories of Alja, his hope, his salvation: Her mischievous smile, her laughter, the texture of her skin, her voice as she whispered sweet promises in his ear. Yes, Alja had promised to come back – snap. He could almost hear how his descent was broken by that thought. It wrapped around his crumbling sanity like a steel wire. Thin. Cutting. But relentless. And with more silent snaps the first strings of Alja's web caught his soul. He had promised to look for the one the NetMind had told him to save, he had promised to Alja – snap. Twisted as her logic might be, Alja had done this for him – snap. Alja had trusted him to make it, to find the good inside himself he was certain to have lost. He couldn't fail her now – snap. Thread by excruciating thread they held him in place, blocked his fall. It wasn't a soft hold. They cut into his soul, made him bleed inside, made him even wish for the sweet oblivion of madness. But he couldn't escape. He had to hold on for Alja. This was what she'd have wanted. This was what she'd done this for. And it was his mistake. He had to make up for it. We have to make up for it, remember? We need to make sacrifices, Alja had said – SNAP.