PERSPECTIVE: MARIE

I broke the long, heavy silence. "Hey, Matt, you have any idea where we're going?"

"Piece of garbage could be anywhere. Hell, he could be everywhere."

"So… you have no idea?"

"Well… I didn't say that," he shot back.

I gave a small sigh. "Where's the most likely place he could be? We'll check there, then the next likeliest, and so on."

"Well, he was banished to the Northern Frontier."

"Good, we'll start there. Is there some sort of GPS on the Skwakpads?"

"Yeah, uh, here, lemme see." Matt took out his device and fiddled with the buttons, and a freckled hologram popped up. "The solid green dot is the endpoint, the destination - in this case, the Northern Frontier - and the flashing red dot is the 'pad. The gray dots are other Cybersites."

"So, how far is it from where we are now to the Northern Frontier?" I asked.

"At this speed, we'll be there in about… an hour and a half. Go a bit higher, though, and a little to left. Er, no, right."

I tilted the ship up and to the left as he instructed, and his timing was impeccable - ninety minutes and twelve seconds. I landed the ship near the site's domain marker (er, sign), about half a mile from what seemed to be the only sign of inhabitation - a large, very basic garage structure, like a soup can laid on its side and cut in half.

Without even opening the door, Matt muttered a cuss under his breath. "He's not here. We have to look somewhere else."

"How do you know? Where's his house?"

"Doesn't really have one, he lives in a sort of… high-end trailer. Now, come on, we gotta go!"

"Go where, though? I don't even know what this guy looks like! Who is he? What's his deal? Why should I give a damn-"

Matt cut me off. "Do you want to be locked in a car with an angry Matt?"

I didn't respond. It just seemed like a waste, and anyway… I didn't want to admit that no, it didn't seem all that pleasant. I started up the engine and backed out of the site. He plugged in our next most likely destination, though I couldn't see what he was typing.

After a short silence, I had to ask. I couldn't let it go. "What the hell is Cyberspace, anyway? Is it… is it the internet? Is it a subset of it? What?"

He sighed. "Well, yes and no. It's… it's more of a parallel universe that's hidden in the cracks of the Internet, all the unclaimed domains, the discontinued websites and chatrooms. Like an underwater river. That's how I explain it to myself, anyway."

"Kind of like the Mariana's Web?"

"Oh, deeper. Much deeper."

"So this is what the One-World Government doesn't want us to see…" I joked. "So what about this Hacker guy? I still have no idea who he is. And why is he called Hacker?"

"Long story short, from what I understand, he was a cyborg built by Dr. Marbles to help keep Motherboard up and running, but he got greedy and wanted to take over Cyberspace for himself. Slimy bastard. So, Marbles, being merciful, didn't kill him - he decided instead to banish him to the Northern Frontier. From there, he started carrying out schemes to try to take control by force, but so far, that hasn't worked, and we want to keep it that way. Obviously. As for the name… I'm not sure."

So Hacker had been created by Marbles to serve Motherboard… Marbles, the father, Motherboard as mother, and Hacker as the child. A family unit. The son tried to usurp power from his mother, the Queen, and so the father sent the son into exile instead of executing him. The son tries over and over to take back power - there's no room now for apologizing now, no chance. Even if all his heinous acts were erased, even if he were accepted lovingly and with open arms, he'd be left with no dignity to speak of. In an instant, something clicked.

"Marie, you okay?" Matt asked.

"Huh? Yeah - what's the closest Site to the Frontier that's got a bar? Plug it in and give me as much information about Hacker as you can-"

Suddenly, a light began flashing on the dashboard. The vehicle was low on fuel. We had to stop off somewhere soon.

"Sensible Flats, just ahead!"

We landed on a Site that looked straight out of a stereotypical western, from the sand and cactuses to the general store and people in cowpoke attire. For the thousandth time today, I questioned whether I was conscious.

"Hey, Matt… are you able to make calls with the Skwakpad?"