The room was, as ever, almost totally dark

The room was, as ever, almost totally dark. The winter sun had set early over the Sierra Nevada so not even the miniscule light the drawn blinds allowed through during daylight hours illuminated the space. Chris O'Brien sat in front of his computer, his hunched posture making him look diminutive, even at a wiry six foot two inches tall.

The boy was muttering in a barely audible voice, his head covered in a futuristic looking blue and gold helmet, hiding his sharp features. A visor hung over his eyes, small speakers covered his ears and a microphone hung in front of his mouth.

"There!" he hissed. "How did you know that? I didn't tell you…" The youth's thin fingers danced blindingly across the keyboard for a few seconds. "Let's see you figure that one out!"

O'Brien stared intently at the screen for long moments, nervously drumming his fingers on the desk, narrowly avoiding the half-eaten slice of pizza discarded there. Finally, a high, keening laugh escaped his throat. "I knew it! It isn't possible! But you did it, didn't you? Clever little bastard…"

O'Brien entered a new series of commands quickly, the images on the screen shifting in response. The youth found himself continually frustrated with the occasional blockiness of the images and sounds bombarding his brain, with the slow response time of the system generating his universe. It was always a few steps behind him, never quite catching up to the reality in his mind.

But there was something else, too – he'd first noticed it two years earlier when he was immersed in 'Mystic' – a game Chris O'Brien now considered to be pathetically amateurish, an embarrassment to his name. It seemed that it wasn't only he that was a few steps ahead of the system running the game – it was the game itself. But that was impossible, wasn't it? He'd tried to convince himself it was.

Impossibility didn't sit well with O'Brien. He gifts were unparalleled – he could design like no one before him, make a computer sing. And he knew it. He'd already done things, incorporated concepts in games that he'd been told from the beginning were impossible. Of course they were possible – he'd done them, and done them easily.

What the fools didn't realize – what Chris O'Brien couldn't make them realize, no matter how he tried (and he'd long since given up trying) – was that it was easy to do the things he did. When the code flew off of his fingers he was the code – inside the machine, part of it. An endless string of ones and zeroes that was as exquisite as a Mozart symphony. He didn't understand code – he was code. And nothing was beyond his grasp.

When he'd first noticed the anomalies he'd tried to dismiss them, but that was a losing battle. He trusted his own instincts implicitly, far more than he trusted the tired dictums of what was possible in his vocation. The games evolved, changed – they learned. Things happened in his universe – a simple, if gargantuan string of ones and zeroes – that he hadn't designed to happen. There was another force at work, impossibly remote and alien and beyond his grasp at first, but dawning teasingly closer to his field of vision and intellect as he ventured farther and farther inside his worlds. As obvious to his gifted eyes as it was invisible to everyone else's. And it was undeniably real.

It had been a little scary at first, this knowledge. The concept was bizarre, foreign – but as Chris lived with it the knowledge became exciting, thrilling. And the more he discovered, cobbled together from a series of educated guesses and wild conjectures that somehow felt right, the more exciting it became.

And finally, in the end, the knowledge was invigorating – because it represented hope, something Chris O'Brien hadn't experienced for a very long time. The boy ventured to believe that there might actually be a way out of the hole he'd dug for himself. Chris had nearly surrendered all hope that he might defeat the one adversary clever enough to foil him – himself. But now… Anything was possible. And Chris O'Brien liked possibilities much better than impossibilities.

"What now?" the boy mumbled to himself, fingers dancing across the keyboard. The voice interface, though he'd designed it himself, was far too slow and inaccurate for his needs, thanks to the limitations of the hardware. "I didn't tell you about that passageway, did I? But you knew it was there. And you're going to beat me to the punch again…"

He wasn't sure how high he'd jumped – he'd have bet it was six feet – but the hand on Chris' shoulder brought him well out of his chair. The young man tossed his helmet aside and stared, shaken, into Doug Mackenzie's face. "You bastard! What do you think you're doing?"

"Sorry, Dude." The older man apologized. "I thought you heard me calling you."

"I can't hear anything in that damn VR mask!" Chris scowled. "Piece of crap. What're you still doing here?"

"Finishing up the patch for 'Star Quest III'. And what a surprise, you were still here!"
Doug smiled. "Thought I'd see how you were getting on."

"I'm fine." O'Brien fell wearily back into his chair. "Now get out."

"How's 'Daemon's Legacy'?"

"What part of 'Get out' don't you understand? The game's fine – but the hardware just can't do it justice. I feel like I'm programming with one hand tied behind my back!"

"Modest, aren't you Kid? There isn't another software company in the world with better gear than us – you know that. Still, I have to admit – your user interface is unbelievable. Best I've ever seen."

"How the hell would you know that?" O'Brien hissed.

The older man shifted uncomfortably. "Well… When you were at that meeting with the dragon lady the other day I did some… beta testing. Look, you're so goddamm secretive about everything-"

"You had no right to do that!" Chris shouted. "No one plays my game when it's in development – no one!"

"Don't have a cow, Kid!" Mackenzie sighed. "The thing's gotta be beta tested before they release it anyway – not even a wonder boy like you has that much clout. I just buzzed the hive a little, that's all!"

"Damn!" Chris seethed. After a few moments he turned to the bearded man. "Well, since you saw it – what did you think?"

"Like I said, Man – I never saw a user interface like that before. And the 3-D effects, the sound – it's gonna blow these poor simps away!"

"Toys!" Chris frowned. "If I had the gear the military has…"

"Toys, huh?" Mackenzie shook his head. "This is gonna be huge, Chris – no one's ever seen a game like it. They're gonna eat it up like candy. I don't think they'll understand it, but they won't be able to look away."

"If they can't follow it – tough. I don't design for idiots, I design for myself. They can buy it or not, I don't care."

"Look, Man – this thing is awesome – it's killer. But I don't understand why you sunk so much into the backgrounds, the stock characters. It's all texture and no plot! Isn't it supposed to be a game? I mean, don't get me wrong – it's amazing. But it seems like so much overkill, y'know?"

"Everything I design, I design for a reason." The younger man said firmly. "Nothing is by accident. Every rock in this game is exactly the right size and shape and it's exactly where it's supposed to be. And every character is critical. Don't you get it?"

"Not really." Doug sighed. "But you're the genius – not me." The bearded programmer turned to leave. "I wish I could do what you do, Kid – I wouldn't waste it on fancy wallpaper and meaningless dialogue. See you around."

"Doug?" O'Brien called softly, just as the other had reached the door.

"Yeah?"

Chris drummed his fingers on the desk thoughtfully, staring straight ahead. "You ever get the feeling…. The feeling that there's something else in there? Besides the code?"

"Whaddaya mean, Kid?" Doug frowned. "In where?"

"You know. There." The boy pointed to the screen in front of him. "You ever get the feeling two and two doesn't always equal four?"

"Man – you really are going loopy. And here I've been defending you!"

"Never mind." The boy scowled. "Don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!"

"Here's your cocoa. Boys." Dot smiled, setting a tray down on the java table in front of the sofa.

"Thanks!" Enzo beamed, reaching for a steaming mug. "Cool – you put the little marshmallows in it!"

"Shhh!" Bob hissed, nudging Dot out of his field of vision. "This is getting exciting!"

"What're you boys watching?" Dot whispered, slipping onto the sofa next to her brother.

"Some new game show – 'So Do You Want Some Credits or What?'" Enzo said. "I think it's kinda boring-"

"Hush, you two! There's a lot of credits at stake here!" The silver-haired sprite stared raptly at the vidscreen.

"Fifteen seconds." Mike said in a hushed voice.

"Um..." The one binome sitting across from the little appliance was fidgeting nervously.

"You've still got two codelines." Mike said somberly. "You can vidwindow for help, or you can poll our studio audience."

"Well – I'm gonna have to go with 'Hexadecimal'." The binome said finally.

"Hexadecimal." Mike whispered. "Remember, you can stop now and go home with five hundred thousand credits. Are you sure you want to continue?"

"I'm sure, Mike." The binome said nervously.

"Feeling pretty confident?"

"Very confident, Mike."

"Hexadecimal." Mike intoned. "Is that your final answer?"

"That is my final answer." The binome nodded. "Definitely."

"All righty." Mike said reverently. "Your answer is Hexadecimal." The little appliance was silent for several nanos, allowing the tension to build as the contestant squirmed anxiously. "Hexacdecimal. And that is… incorrect!" A huge groan went up in the studio.

"I'm afraid that the virus that resided in the Tor was, in fact, Megabyte. Rather amazing that you didn't know that, actually. So while you could have won a million credits, you now in fact go home with nothing. But you had fun, didn't you?" The binome had, by this time, fallen off his chair and was lying motionless on the floor.

"That's all the time we have for this cycle, I'm afraid." Mike grinned cheerfully. "Remember to watch me on my morning show tomorrow, along with my co-host Cathy Lynn Etherport. Our guests will be-"

"Ack!" Bob groaned, switching off the vidscreen.

"How basic can you get?" Enzo scowled. "Hexadecimal? In the Tor? That guy was totally low-density!"

"Hard to believe what passes for entertainment these days." Dot sighed.

"Hey – that was the highest rated show in Mainframe last minute!" Bob protested, a little defensively.

"I rest my case… So, Enzo – how about wearing some of your new clothes to school next cycle? I don't think I've seen you wear them outside the store."

"Crash." The boy groaned. "I like wearing my cadet uniform to school! Why can't I just keep doing that?"

"Enzo! It's been cycles – can't you wear them just once, for me? I spent good credits on those clothes!"

"I didn't ask you to!" the youngster grumbled.

"Hey – Enzo's just proud of his uniform, that's all. Nothing wrong with that!" Bob smiled, tousling the boy's hair.

"After what you did at that store you're lucky I still let you be a cadet!" Dot said ominously. "Imagine, lying to me like that! Leaving me standing there like an idiot, waiting for you…"

"I said I was sorry! I just hate shopping, that's all. Especially clothes shopping. You just end up buying me the stuff you like anyways!"

"That's not the point, Enzo. It just wasn't nice, that's all. I think you owe me a little better than that, don't you?"

"Sorry." Enzo sighed. "Don't be mad at me anymore, OK?"

"C'mon, Dot – you're making him feel bad." Bob frowned. "Don't make a Supercomputer file out of it."

"Fine, fine. I'm not mad anymore, you stinker! But wear the new clothes once in a while, OK? For me? Just because Bob wears the same thing every day doesn't mean we have to."

"Hey!"

"OK, Dot. I promise." Enzo nodded earnestly. "OK?"

"I know it doesn't seem important to you, Enzo. It's just that I care about you, that's all. It would mean a lot to me if you took my advice about this, but I won't force you to wear them if you don't want to. Sure, it'd hurt me a little, but that's not what's important-"

"Can we go back to you bein' mad at me again?" Enzo groaned.

"Sorry!" his sister grinned mischievously, mission accomplished. "Now finish your cocoa – it's getting late and tomorrow's a school day."

"Fine…" Grumbling, the green-haired boy took a huge slurp of his drink. "Bob, can I get my hair cut like yours?"

"Enzo!" Dot sighed. "Why would you want to do that? I like your hair the way it is!"

"It's my hair. If I wanna get it cut different why can't I?"

"Cut different-ly. And getting it cut differently is one thing…" Dot scowled, looking at Bob.

"Hey – what'd I do? Is this 'pick on Bob' night all of a sudden? I thought you liked my hair! You were the one nagging me to get it cut since the nano I got back to Mainframe, practically!"

Dot winked at her brother. "I'm just teasing, Bob. You really are easy, aren't you?"

"Why, you…"

"Don't sweat it, Bob." Enzo grinned, patting the Guardian's elbow sympathetically. "She's been doin' that to me for hours!"

The silver-haired sprite slurped his cocoa. "And people wonder why I spend so much time in games! Thought I was 'eccentric'… Stop laughing!"

"Sorry!" Enzo giggled. "You two really crack me up sometimes!"

"So you like to laugh, do you?" Dot said ominously, winking at the Guardian. "I think that might be arranged. Bob?"

"A little pixel like him get the last laugh on us? I don't think so!" The two grown-ups lunged at the small sprite between them.

"No! Don't!" Enzo squealed, curling defensively into a ball. "Please! I'm sorry!"

"WARNING: INCOMING GAME"

"WARNING: INCOMING GAME"

"Talk about being saved by the bell!" Bob sighed. "A game cube at this time of cycle? How basic can you get?"

"Alphanumeric!" Enzo grinned, having swiftly reacquired his usual bravado. "A game!" He bounced ecstatically off the couch.

"Where d'you think you're going, Mister?" Dot scowled, stopping him in his tracks.

"But – it's a game, Dot! I have to go! It's in my programming!"

"This is a school night, Young Man. It's almost your docking time!"

"But-"

"No time to argue, people!" Bob interrupted, reaching for his zip board. "All in that's going in."

"Please, Dot?" Enzo begged, clasping his hands in supplication. "I'm a Guardian – I hafta go! And I really need the practice! Please?"

"Well… Bob?"

"It shouldn't take too long, Dot. I'll have him home in time for bed. It's up to you, of course. You could join me too if you want."

"No, you go ahead." She sighed. She straightened Enzo's shoulder pads. "And you be careful! I'll wait up for you, all right?"

"Thanks, Sis! You're the best! C'mon, Bob!" Enzo gleefully bounded through the door and up the stairs. Bob planted a quick kiss on Dot's cheek and followed him.

"Getting soft." Dot grumbled. "Oh well – it's just a game. He'll be home in bed in no time…"

"Enzo – wait up!" Bob called. "The cube's dropping over sector one-one – there's no rush. Let's not get separated."

"Sorry Bob!" Enzo smiled sheepishly, literally bouncing with excitement. "What kinda game you think it'll be? Not another war one I hope!"

"We'll see soon enough." The Guardian opened a vidwindow. "Hey, you two."

"Hey, Bob." Matrix answered. The big sprite was lying in bed, arm around AndrAIa's shoulder. "Think you can handle this one on your own?"

"No need – I've got the cadet with me." Bob grinned. "What about your codes – aren't they telling you to head for the game?"

"Maybe. But that's not all they're telling me." The bearded sprite answered, winking at AndrAIa. "Be careful in there."

"Stay frosty." The Guardian chuckled, closing the window.

"Matrix isn't going into the game with us?" Enzo frowned.

"Noop. I guess he had something better to do."

"Better? What could be better than a game?"

"Never mind, Tiger – I'll explain someday. Not get your game face on…"

"Unbelievable. Four hundred thousand units in the first three days. You're a very scary kid, you know that?"

"Thanks, Mr. Robinson. I guess." Chris O'Brien said softly, wincing as he sipped the champagne in his fluted glass. The boy fidgeted nervously, extremely uncomfortable in the brightly lit, palatial office of the company president. There were only six or seven others in the room, but to Chris it still felt like a mob. All he wanted was to be back at his desk, checking up on how things were progressing…

"So talented." Edwin Robinson's voice cut through the youth's reverie. Edwin was still the man in charge, and Chris didn't dare offend him. He urged himself to pay attention, keep his mind from wandering. His mind always wandered – well, except when he was creating, of course. The he was all focus. The game was everything. The game! What was happening? It would be disseminated all over the world by now-

"I see you've gone again." Edwin Robinson said, not unpleasantly.

"Sorry!" Chris said hastily, swearing internally.

"Don't worry about it." Robinson chuckled. He took a long sip of his Dom Perignon and eyed the boy over the top of his glass. Such an odd one he was – so gifted, almost frighteningly so. But strange, unhappy. Restless, always restless. Never seemed to sleep or eat. "We're all proud of you, Chris. You know Janice and I started this company out of the back of a '71 Vega – and now look at us! And you've had a lot to do with that, Chris."

"Thank you, Sir." The thin youth nodded politely.

"More champagne?"

"Er – no thanks. I don't really drink much…"

"Of course you don't!" Robinson laughed. "Won't be drinking age for another four years, will you Son?"

"No Sir."

"Why are you the only person at this company who calls me 'Sir', Kid?" Robinson sighed, stroking his salt and pepper beard absently. "The business has changed a lot since I started, I'll tell you that. Maybe the creative part of it has passed me by, I don't know. I certainly never would've designed a game like 'Daemon's Legacy'. Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Mr. Robinson. I mean of course not." Chris replied, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

Robinson stifled a chuckle. "Why was it so important to you that D.L. be networkable? I mean, a game like 'Quake' I can understand – something loaded with action, where people can go head to head. But your game, it's so – well… It's very… atmospheric, Chris. Not a fast pace. Seems kind of an odd fit for networking to me – but maybe it's all passed me by, like I said…"

"I just wanted as many people as possible to play it." O'Brien said dubiously.

"Sure, sure… Well, I've learned never to question your judgement, Chris. You're the best. And I want you to know that the tremendous success of 'Daemon's Legacy' will mean a great deal for your future. We take care of our own at Cascade. You'll never have to work again if you don't want to-"

"No! I mean – I love my job, Sir. I'm very happy…"

"Of course you are." Edwin frowned. "That's fine, Son. Maybe you should reward yourself a little, though – take a vacation, maybe. You think?"

"I'll think about it. Thank you, Sir." The boy mumbled.

"You do that." The older man sighed. "Why don't you mingle a little, Chris? This is your party!"

"No thanks, Sir. I'd really like to go back to my follow-up, if I could."

"Why bother? You never leave any bugs behind – it's not like you're going to need to work on a patch!"

"N-no. Of course not." Chris stammered. "But I'd like to get back to work, just the same. Can I?"

"Of course." Edwin nodded. "Thanks for stopping by, Chris. Congratulations." The boy nodded and backed out of the office, setting his champagne flute down in a potted plant awkwardly.

"Any luck?" Janice Robinson asked.

"Nope." Her brother sighed. "The freak won't let leave this place for five minutes, much less take a vacation. Unbelievable."

"Don't call him that!" Janice scolded. "He can't help himself, he's just – strange…"

"Mistress of understatement, aren't you? Well, he's made all of us a lot of money, I know that much. And that indecipherable new game of his is shattering every record in the book."

"It's beautiful. Like a fine film, you know? So real… Like life."

"That it is, Sis." Edwin Robinson nodded. "That it is."

"Bob!" Enzo gasped, once his senses had returned. "What-"

"Shhh!" the Guardian hissed, frowning. Enzo held his tongue, noting the intense look of concentration on the Guardian's face. Clearly the Guardian felt as he did – something was strange, different.

At first the boy had thought it was nothing more than daylight – it was strange, going into a game cube while it was night cycle in Mainframe. He could never remember doing that before. But after a nano it was clear to him that something else was amiss. What was it? "Bob?" he finally asked softly, after several awkward nanos of silence.

"Basic…" the Guardian scowled. "This is bad – very… Well – I dunno if it's bad. But it's weird."

"Yeah – it is." Enzo agreed, looking around him. They were in a land of softly rolling hills, while the sun was setting behind a great line of ragged peaks rising in the distance ahead of them. The hillside where they stood was dotted with isolated stands of trees, while thick carpets of forest could be seen covering parts of the surrounding hills. All was covered with a light blanket of snow.

That was basic enough – Enzo had only seen snow once before, although AndrAIa had told him stories of her adventures with his older self in various winter wonderlands. But the entire feel of the game was strange, the youngster finally realized. It felt as though he'd never left Mainframe. It looked different, smelled different – the scent of pine was thick in the air – but it felt the same. It felt real.

Bob wandered over and patted the boy's shoulder softly. "Does this all seem weird to you, Enzo? Wrong?"

"Yeah. Usually the games are like – I dunno. Games. They d-don't seem real. This place is just like home."

"Well – not like home, maybe. But it doesn't feel like a game to me, either."

"It's cold." Enzo muttered, noticing for the first time that he was shivering.

"Yeah." Bob nodded. "That's weird too – d'you ever remember noticing the temperature in a game before, Kiddo?"

"N-no." the boy said through chattering teeth, hugging his arms around his chest. It appeared to be early evening in this strange place, and a freshening wind was swirling a few flakes of snow through the air. "I'm -… This is basic, Bob. What kinda game is this?"

"I dunno, Enzo." Bob sighed, taking notice of the boy's discomfort – and his own. What an odd thing to have to worry about during a game! He wrapped an arm around Enzo's shoulder. "Sure could use Glitch right now. And some nice, hot, java too. What say we reboot? Maybe we'll be dressed a little more appropriately."

"C-cool." Enzo reached for his icon and gave it a tap. "Reboot!"

"Reboot!" Bob echoed. He looked himself over critically. He was now clad in thick leather leggings and cloak, and could feel some sort of thin, rough material underneath. The cloak had a fur-lined collar, taking some of the bite off of the chilly wind. A metal breastplate, adorned with a white cross, completed the ensemble. A tall, thin, jewel-handled sword was strapped to his waist.

"Not too bad, I suppose." He sighed. "Some sort of knight or crusader. I could do without lugging the armor around, but I guess I've got it for a reason."

"You look cool!" Enzo grinned. The Guardian looked down to see the boy – his skin a light tan, though his hair curiously retained a green tinge - clad in black leggings and a rather flimsy looking green tunic. A ratty woolen blanket hung over his shoulders. Worst of all, the youngster's feet were covered only in thin leather mukluks, his skin plainly visible through the holes in the hide surface.

"This is not good." Bob scowled. "You're some sort of acolyte – maybe even a slave, by the looks of you. Those clothes don't look very warm."

"I'm all right-"

"Don't be brave." Bob scolded. He knelt and examined the boy's feet. "These shoes are pathetic – they'll hardly protect you at all. And the rest of your clothes aren't much either. By the looks of things, it could get a lot colder, too."

"How d'you know so m-much about cold, Bob? I thought you said you never noticed the temperature in a game!"

"I haven't. But they prepare us for a lot at the Academy and I've been to a lot of systems, Enzo – and some of them have been pretty chilly. Your feet and hands are the first parts of the body to get frostbite."

"What's frostbite?"

"You don't wanna know." Bob sighed. "It's not a good sign that you're dressed that way – I'd guess we're in a pretty unenlightened place. Anyways, with the snow on the ground you certainly can't walk around like that, and there's only so far I can carry you."

"Carry me?" Enzo howled indignantly.

"Sorry." Bob smiled. "But this is serious business, Enzo. A horse, a horse, my kingdom…"

"What?"

"Never mind – just something I heard once. Too bad Frisket didn't come into the game with us – he might've rebooted into a pack animal of some kind. Maybe even with saddlebags… Hey – you've got a knapsack!"

"Hey – yeah!" the boy grinned. "I guess I d-do. I wonder what's inside?"

"Well – look!" Bob laughed. "Maybe your good boots are in there."

"Sorry! Lessee – some kind of book – basic! What g-good's that? A couple bottles, some k-kinda blanket. A rope. That's about it."

"Let's see." The Guardian sighed, disappointment in his voice. He studied the blanket critically. "Not much to this, really. Whoever we are we're astonishingly ill-prepared for a journey."

"A journey? What do you think we're supposed to do, Bob?"

"I really haven't got a clue, Tiger. I don't like this at all – I've never seen a game remotely like it. But everything feels so real we're gonna have to assume we need to be concerned about every detail. Like the cold, for one thing."

"Yeah." Enzo nodded, hugging himself. "Why are my t-teeth chattering?"

"That's how your body tries to keep you warm. It's getting darker – and colder. Wind's picking up, too – might be a storm moving in. I don't think I want to be out here all night."

"What do we do?" Enzo asked, feeling fear starting to prickle the edges of his mind.

"Look for a town." Frowning, the Guardian scented the air, looked in all directions. "I don't smell smoke…"

"Smoke?"

"Yeah. If we were near a settlement, there'd be fires. That's how they keep warm and cook stuff in places like this. Unfortunately I don't think there's any settlement close by. I'd say we head towards those mountains – maybe there's a river or something flowing down from there."

"Like a data stream, you mean?"

"Right!" Bob smiled. "Where there's data - er, water – there's usually people. Maybe we can find a warm place to rest, maybe even find out what we're doing here." He turned to Enzo. "But first we have to get you sorted out, don't we? The leggings and shirt are bad enough, but the shoes are not going to cut it."

Enzo lifted a foot and studied it carefully. Indeed, his toes were already tingling and the patches of exposed skin were almost numb. Still – what choice did they have? He wasn't about to be carried! "It's not so bad, Bob. I can handle it. Honest!"

"Don't be basic!" Bob chuckled. "You're no good to me if you can't walk, are you? And I'm not gonna be able to win this game without you."

"Really?" Enzo beamed. "But – what can we d-do about it?"

"My shoes would never fit you… Cut it – that's it!" The Guardian threw his coat off and laid it on the snowy ground, revealing a rough hemp shirt underneath.

"What're you gonna do, Bob?"

"Just watch!" Grinning, the Guardian pulled his hide gloves off – revealing the same tan skin that Enzo now sported - drew his sword and sliced two sections of thick hide from the waist of his overcoat. "Too long on me, anyways… Come over here, Cadet. And bring the rope."

"Sure!" Puzzled, Enzo stepped over to where Bob knelt in the snow. The Guardian took the rope from him and sliced two lengths away with the razor sharp sword.

"Hold your leg out." The silver-haired sprite tightly wrapped one of the sections of leather around the boy's right foot as Enzo hopped in place, tying it securely around the ankle with the rope. He repeated the process with Enzo's left foot. "How's that feel?"

"Cool!" Enzo grinned, testing his feet on the cold ground. "Alphanumeric idea, Dude!"

"Just taking care of my own." Bob smiled, falling back on his haunches and admiring his handiwork. "Lesson one, Enzo – use what the game provides. Your gloves aren't much, but that ought to keep your feet dry, at least. I'm still not happy about that tunic-"

"Bob! I'm not a baby. I'm fine!"

"Yeah, well – I gotta get you home in one piece or Dot'll end-file me! I think maybe you ought to wear my coat-"

"No!" Enzo protested. "I'm fine, B-Bob – I got this blanket. Why should you be cold? Besides – that coat would be way too b-big for me anyways."

Bob shook his head and sighed. "We'll try it for now, I guess. It's starting to snow a little harder – better keep that other blanket dry in the knapsack. Which I'm gonna carry, by the way. Hand it over."

"Bob-"

"That's an order, Enzo! Remember about following orders?"

"Sorry." The green-haired boy smiled sheepishly. "So – I guess we should go, then. Right?"

Bob slung the pack over his shoulder. "May as well. I don't like the looks of the weather." The two sprites set off towards the setting sun as a thickening snow began to fill the air.

Enzo knew they'd been walking a long time. He didn't know much else – his processor had switched into a kind of low-power mode. What efforts he and Bob had made at small talk had sputtered rather quickly as the light faded behind the ominous mountains they hiked towards. The game had seemed, inexorably, to get a little darker and colder with every step.

Bob ran a hand across his collar, wiping away some of the snow that had accumulated there. It had been falling lightly but persistently for the duration of their trek. The Guardian looked down at Enzo surreptitiously and noted the blank expression on his face, the increasingly shambling nature of his stride. Finally, the little sprite stumbled and nearly fell before pushing himself to his feet and soldiering on.

"Y'know what?" Bob panted, slowing his stride. "I'm getting pretty tired. What say we start looking for a campsite?"

"Sure." Enzo nodded dumbly, forcing a smile. "Campsite? You mean – sleep out here?"

"I think we'll have to. I really wanted to at least find out why in the net we're here, but I don't think we have much of a choice. It's dark and it's getting colder. We'll have to make the best of it and move on in the morning."

"I feel kinda warmer, actually." Enzo panted.

"Good." Bob smiled. It was the boy's exertion that had warmed him, of course – and his energy was clearly almost gone. Bob knew how quickly the cold would seize them once they'd stopped moving. "It's pretty basic – we're about as badly prepared to sleep out here as we could be. No tent, no docking bags – this is not good."

"So what do we do?" Enzo asked, worry beginning to play on his cheerful features. He squinted and bent double as a gust of chill wind blew over them.

"We'll need to find some place where we can shelter from the wind, at least. Try to keep dry, maybe even build a fire. Won't be easy in this weather."

"OK." The boy said dispiritedly. "So where do we go?"

Bob surveyed the surroundings as best he could in the gloomy dusk and poor visibility. The outline of a steep hill, a deeper darkness against the dark sky, was visible to their left. "There." He pointed. "We ought to be able to use that hill for some protection from the wind. Better than being out here in the open."

"Lead the way." Enzo sighed. He fell in a step behind the Guardian as they tramped through the patchy tree cover towards the looming hill.

Bob could hear the boy's rasping breath behind him and slowed his pace. "Try breathing through your nose." He suggested. "Warms the air before it gets into your lungs. How're your feet holding up – staying dry?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"Hungry?"

"Maybe a little."

"Well, I don't know that we're gonna find much in the dark – if there's anything to find." Bob said. "We'll have some water when we settle down. You be all right till morning?"

"Sure." The youngster nodded. "This is so basic, Bob – what kinda game is this? We're actually gonna sleep here? And we don't even know what we're supposed to be doing!"

"I don't like it any more than you do, Partner. The User could be winning the game while we're stuck out here. But that cold feels pretty real, doesn't it? And it's only gonna get worse. We can't win the game if we freeze to death."

"I know, I know… But what about the User?"

"I don't think it's that simple, Enzo – we wouldn't get thrown out here if it wasn't for some reason. It might take us a while to figure it out, that's all. In the meantime we've got to take care of ourselves. That's part of the challenge, I bet."

"Right." Enzo said softly, breathing hard. "We'll figure it out."

"Sure we will." Bob patted the boy on the shoulder and surveyed the face of the hill before them. "There!" he pointed after a nano. "That overhang - that should do nicely. Follow me."

The pair covered the distance to the overhang in a few strides. Enzo stood, hugging the blanket around his shoulders and stamping his feet, as the Guardian examined the rock face closely. "Hmmm. You ready for a job, Enzo?"

"C-coo1." Enzo grinned, happy to have something to occupy his mind. "What do you need me to do, Bob?"

The Guardian held his hands out in front of him. "Go find some stones, about this size. Flat bottom is better than round, but whatever you can find. Four good ones ought to be enough. But don't go far – keep me in sight at all times! Got it?"

"You got it!" The boy stomped off, rooting around in the dirt and snow at the base of the hill. It wasn't difficult – there was ample detritus from rock falls scattered along the ground. In a few microseconds Enzo had accumulated four hefty stones, wrapped them in the blanket and carried them back over to Bob.

Meanwhile, the Guardian had erected a kind of awning, using the second blanket as a tent and his sword as a pole. "Good work!" he grinned. "Those should be perfect. Thanks, Enzo."

"You're welcome! What are you g-going to d-do?"

"Stretch the blanket over our heads and use two of the stones to secure it to the ledge here. Then two more to anchor it to the ground. It's not gonna be like a real tent, 'cause one side is open, but we'll make that the leeward side and it should keep most of the wind and snow off of us. Pretty neat, huh?"

"Alphan-n-numeric!" Enzo beamed. "You're so smart, B-Bob – where'd you learn all this stuff?"

"Here and there." Bob smiled, setting the rocks in place. "It's not perfect – the ground is awfully cold, and we'll just have that blanket of yours to cover us. I'd like to get a fire started – if we light it on the leeward side by the tent opening it should be protected from the wind, but still send most of the smoke away from us. Think you could find me some little sticks?"

"Sure." Enzo went off to look for firewood, Bob watching him, frowning. Clearly, the boy had no idea how serious their predicament was – but Bob certainly did. With no fire they might easily freeze to death. Whatever wood they found would be wet, reluctant to burn – but they had to have a fire, there was no doubting that. The Guardian knelt and began rooting through the rocks and stones at the base of the hill.

"Ah!" he hissed after a moment, hoisting two small stones. Flint – exactly what he needed. What were the odds? Almost as if they had been put there for him to find. Maybe they were meant to do more than freeze to death in this game after all…

"What's that?"

"Flint." Bob grinned. "Some special stones that help make fires. Those sticks should be perfect kindling, Enzo – that's the little stuff that catches first and gets the fire started. Drop them here and go find me some bigger sticks, OK?"

"OK." The boy groaned, clearly exhausted.

Bob watched him trudge off. "Keep him moving… Keep him warm until the fire's lit." he mumbled to himself. "If I get it lit. It's been a long time since I tried this…" The silver-haired sprite knelt, wincing as his knees made contact with the cold, wet ground. He frowned thoughtfully for a moment, the reached inside the knapsack and pulled out the small book.

"Watcha doin'?" Enzo asked, dropping a pile of sticks at Bob's feet. "You're not gonna read that now?!"

"No! I'm gonna see if there's any blank pages – this paper's dry and it should help me get the fire started. But I don't wanna burn any information we might need later – even if I can't make any sense of it now." The Guardian leafed through the small tome thoughtfully, then ripped a few scantily printed pages out.

"Can I watch?"

"Sure." Bob grinned as the boy leaned over his shoulder. "Never know when you might need to do this yourself." The Guardian scraped a patch of ground - thankfully not yet frozen hard - clear of snow and dug a small furrow with his gloved hands. He laid the sheets of paper at the bottom and arranged a dome of small sticks atop it. "Wish me luck." He sighed, grasping two small pieces of flint and leaning close over his creation.

"Good luck." Enzo said earnestly. The Guardian began to strike the stones together, awkwardly at first as the memory of the activity stirred slowly his processor. Occasionally a small spark danced off of the stones, prompting a gasp from Enzo, but the paper refused to catch.

"Not easy." Bob said, releasing a breath, which he realized he'd been holding in.

"You can do it." Enzo whispered, squeezing his shoulder. The silver-haired sprite knelt low to the ground again and, after several nanos of frustration, a small spark caught on the dry parchment and a tiny tendril of smoke lifted into the cold air. "Awesome – you did it!" Enzo gasped.

"Shhh!" The Guardian softly, gingerly blew on the tiny flame, feeding it with his oxygen. As the paper caught the flame danced onto the still damp twigs tented over it, which hissed as they caught fire. "Here we go…"

"Dude!" Enzo whispered, hugging the Guardian from behind. "That's so alphanumeric – how'd you do that?"

~Still thinks it's a game.~ the Guardian thought to himself. Maybe it was – but that small flame still felt like the difference between life and deletion. "If I hadn't found these flints, I don't think I could have. You watched me – it's nothing special if you've got these. We're just lucky we found them." He fed a few incrementally larger twigs onto the small blaze and stood. "Better get some larger sticks – we'll need to keep this going for awhile. Enzo?"

The boy was staring into the little blaze as if hypnotized. Bob stifled a chuckle and went off in search of firewood.

Enzo wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at the cheery fire that was burning on what he'd taken to calling their "front porch", but he knew it'd been a while. There was something strangely fascinating about it – he felt a connection to it on some level of his programming that he couldn't explain.

Bob, meanwhile, was studying his companion as intently as the boy was studying their fire. The snow had ceased and the wind decreased, and a few stars poked through the overhang of clouds, but the change in weather had been accompanied by a further drop in temperature. Thought he fire warmed their meager shelter somewhat the Guardian was restless, feeling out of his element – weather had never been a concern of his in any game before. As much as he felt the need to convince Enzo otherwise, he was trying to parlay a very meager knowledge and experience into their survival.

"How you holding up?" he asked finally, patting the boy on the shoulder.

Enzo was momentarily startled, then flashed a weary grin. "I'm OK. This fire's pixelacious – I've never seen anything like it!"

"Comes in pretty handy, huh?"

"Yeah! This isn't so bad, really – it's almost like going camping! I always kinda hoped you and me would do that. I just wish it wasn't so cold…"

"Yeah, me too." Bob sighed.

Enzo hugged the blanket tighter around his shoulders and warmed his hands by the fire. "This is so weird, Dude – having to worry about stuff like being hungry and tired and cold in a game. It's- It's…"

"Real?"

"Yeah." The green-haired boy whispered. "You've never seen anything like it, huh?"

"No." Bob said softly. "Never, Enzo. It's not like any game I ever played before."

"Are you… Is it… Are you a little scared, maybe?"

"Sure." The Guardian smiled. "It's natural, being in a weird place like this. But we'll figure it out, don't worry. All games have to act a certain way, otherwise they wouldn't be games. I don't believe in the no-win scenario…"

"Huh?"

"Never mind." Bob chuckled. Both sprites stared silently at the fire for a few nanos. A high-pitched howl pierced the air, causing them to jerk stiff.

"Dude!" Enzo gasped. "What was that?"

"Some kind of animal." Bob replied with a calm greater than he actually felt. "I think they're called wolves – kinda like big dogs."

"Like Frisket?" Enzo said dubiously, as a responding wolf call rent the chill air.

"Sorta." Bob nodded. "Nothing to worry about."

"I don't think I'd want Frisket after me – if he didn't know me, I mean. Are you sure it's OK?"

"Don't worry – they don't like fire." The Guardian smiled. Enzo didn't look convinced, eyes darting towards the surrounding darkness. "Well – if this is a campout I think we should have a campfire song, don't you?"

"Bob?"

"Sure! Seems like a campout should have a sing-along. Know any?"

"The only song I know is 'I'm a Little Source Code' – and I'm not singin' that!" the boy scowled. "Well – that and 'Alphanumeric'…"

"'Alphanumeric'?" Bob frowned, puzzled. "How d'you know that one? You weren't around when – I mean…"

"Dot sang it to me. On my birthday." The youngster responded, blushing slightly. "Just like she did with Matrix."

"Oh!" Bob smiled. "Cool. Well, let me see… I seem to remember going camping on Sierra Server when I was a cadet, we sang a song or two. What were they? Hmmm… I think I remember one…" The Guardian cleared his throat theatrically and began to sing in a comic monotone.

"There was a young sprite from the net

Who kept a small null as a pet

And lonely was he

His evenings were free

He needs all the friends he can get!

As he walked through the park one fine cycle

He encountered a lass most delightful

What a joy to his eyes

But to his great surprise

She possessed a –"

"What?" Enzo prompted, as the Guardian stopped in mid-verse.

"I don't think I'd better finish that one." The Guardian sighed. "Cadet songs – shoulda known better…"

The boy blushed lightly in the firelight. "It's somethin' to do with swapping codes, isn't it?" he asked suspiciously.

"Enzo!" Bob gasped, taking his turn to blush. "What makes you say that?"

"You have that same look you get when I catch you and Dot kissing on the couch. I'm right, huh?"

"Never mind."

"Whatever." Enzo replied petulantly. He picked up a piece of wood and poked at the fire for a nano. "Bob, what makes… I mean – why do… Why do sprites get all funny around each other? Like you and Dot, and Mouse and Ray…"

"What a time to ask!" Bob groaned. "Don't worry about it, Enzo. You're only one-zero."

"I was just curious." The youngster grumbled, tossing the stick onto the blaze. "Bob, were you there when Matrix and AndrAIa met, in that game?"

Bob frowned. "I was in the game, yeah. But I wasn't there when they actually met – Dot and I were pretty busy at the time. I didn't see her until the game was over. Freaked me out pretty good, too…"

"She's awesome, isn't she?

"She's a very special girl."

"Yeah." The boy sighed. "Y'know what's basic? There's no other sprites in Mainframe at all. I mean – you and Dot… y'know. And Matrix and AndrAIa – they're like totally together. Forever. What if… I mean – what if there's no one left? For me?"

"There will be. Things change, Enzo – we'll get rid of Daemon some cycle and then you'll go to the Academy. And you'll get a posting somewhere, once the Collective is back on line. There's lots of sprites in the net, believe me."

"But what if I don't go to the Academy?" Enzo said softly. "You don't know what's gonna happen…"

"Neither do you. You know I didn't meet Dot until I came to Mainframe. Mouse and Ray didn't meet until he came back with us. You're only a kid, Enzo – don't worry about any of that. There's lots of sprites out there."

"Not like AndrAIa though, I bet."

"Maybe not. But lots of special sprites. And you'll get all funny around one of them someday, I promise! Why are you asking me all this now?"

"I think about it a lot." Enzo whispered. "And I… I guess I never really had anybody else, y'know… To ask."

Bob slid over and punched the green-haired boy on the shoulder gently. "You can ask me about anything you want, any time you want. You know that, right?"

"Sure." Enzo smiled.

"Good. But for right now I think we need to worry about getting through the night and winning the game, don't you?"

"Yeah. Sorry Bob – I didn't mean to get so low-density."

"Not a problem." The Guardian chuckled, crawling into their makeshift tent. "C'mon, I think we should try to get some rest. It'll be morning before you know it."

"Sure, Bob."

"Well…" the silver-haired sprite mused. "Here's what we're gonna have to do – I scraped off most of the snow with the sword before I pitched the shelter, but the ground's still too cold to sleep on. I think my overcoat should be big enough if I lay it out flat."

"But – won't you be cold?" Enzo frowned.

The Guardian slipped his breastplate off and leaned it against the hillside, then doffed his coat and spread it out on the bare ground. "Naw – I'll be fine. This shirt is pretty thick, and your blanket ought to be big enough to cover us."

"If you say so." The youngster replied dubiously. "What about the fire?"

"I'll keep it stoked." Bob smiled. "I'll wake you up in a few milliseconds and you can take a turn." The Guardian tossed a few more pieces of wood onto the crackling blaze.

"OK…"

"Cool." The Guardian stretched and lay down on his back, hands behind his head. Enzo wearily reclined next to him and stretched the blanket, clearly too small for the purpose, over them. Even with the warmth of the fire a few arms lengths away it was still chilly in the shelter. "Night. Sleep tight."

"Night, Bob." the boy said softly, rolling onto his side and staring at the Guardian through slotted eyes by the flickering light. Exhausted as he was, Enzo could feel his processor resisting the call of sleep. He was cold and uncomfortable, but even more he was abuzz with an overload of new senses, experiences. It was a melange of fear and exhilaration that suffused his body from head to toe, doing battle with his weariness.

"Bob, you asleep?" he whispered after an indeterminate silence.

"Nope." The Guardian replied softly.

"Know what's basic? This is like, the first night I ever spent away from home. Mainframe I mean."

Bob rolled onto his side and smiled down at him. "Well, you're not really away from home, are you Tiger? Your body's somewhere in sector one-one."

Enzo frowned thoughtfully. Try as he might, he couldn't get his processor around the concept. "That's totally random! This all feels so real! How could we walk all that way and still be in sector one-one?"

Bob wasn't sure he knew the answer, and wasn't sure he could explain what he did understand. "I know, Pal. Basic, huh? But it's true. We're in a game cube in Mainframe right now. Games are strange things."

Enzo mulled the notion in his mind silently for a nano. Then an awful thought struck him. "Bob! You don't think… We couldn't have lost the game, could we? I mean, maybe the game ended and we left Mainframe – just like Matrix and AndrAIa!"

The notion startled Bob, just for a nano. Was it possible? As reason crept in he doubted it. But was anything impossible anymore? Infected games, this strange place… "I don't think so, Enzo. We'd have heard the game lady if that happened." Inspiration struck. "Besides – we're not in game sprite mode, are we? So if the game ended…"

"Dude!" Enzo gasped, staring at Bob. Wordlessly, both sprites reached for their icons and gave them a tap.

"Just in case." Bob smiled. "Now – try and get some sleep, OK? We don't know how far we're gonna have to walk tomorrow before we get where we're going. Wherever that is…"

"OK, Bob." Enzo sighed. "Night." He closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind of the sea of thoughts zipping through it at a breakneck pace. He was cold, he was scared… But he was tired, too. His body hurt, his chest ached from breathing the frigid air.

The boy sighed and squirmed restlessly. He felt Bob's hand clasp his own in the darkness and squeeze lightly. He concentrated on the Guardian's slow, rhythmic breathing next to him and on the comforting touch on his hand, the relentless pitch of his thoughts easing byte by byte. Slowly, surely, the world of his senses receded, and he felt himself slipping into a fitful sleep.

"Phong? Sorry if I woke you-"

"That is quite all right, Child." The old sprite in the vidwindow smiled wearily, looking resplendent in his tasseled stocking cap. "I rarely sleep – I seem to have little need for it. Besides, I've been strangely inactive the last few cycles…"

"Oh. Well, I'm glad I didn't wake you." Dot said apologetically. "It's just – Bob and Enzo are in the game cube, and they've been gone quite a while. I was hoping you could run a diagnostic and see if anything's going on?"

"Actually, I am already monitoring the game, Young Dot. It's a habit, I suppose. Rare indeed to have a game drop at this time of cycle."

"Have you noticed anything unusual, Phong?" Dot asked, worry plain in her voice. "Other than the timing, I mean?"

"Not especially, Child. The power levels are somewhat higher than normal, and the fluctuations less severe. There could be a myriad of causes for this, however. It's nothing that I would consider a reason for concern."

"Of course." Dot sighed. "What do you suppose is taking so long, though?"

"I cannot say, Dot." The old sprite frowned. "Any guess that I venture would be just that – a guess."

"Cursors!" Dot spat. "Why can't we download the video feedback while the game cubes are still in Mainframe? It would save me a lot of worrying! What good is it once the game is gone?"

"They are useful for study." Phong said gently. "Still, I see your point – nevertheless, we simply do not possess the technology yet, My Child. Perhaps some hour soon we shall."

"Of course, Phong. So… You'll continue to monitor the game, then?"

"Certainly, Young One. Perhaps you should access some sleep in the meantime?"

"Fat chance!" the Command.com scoffed. "Let me know if there's any change, will you?"

"Of course."

"Thanks, Phong. Good night." Dot closed the vidwindow and leaned back in bed wearily. "Games! It would have to be games. Why couldn't he be fascinated with data processing or jetball cards? No – my brother had to get hooked on games…"

It was a nano of disorientation the likes of which Enzo hadn't felt since he'd first been "reborn" after the reboot. He found himself groggily snapping out of an uneasy sleep, all of his senses registering alarm. There was a strange, acrid smell in the air, rustling noises danced at the edge of his hearing, and he was cold. Most of all he was cold. It was a feeling like he had never imagined in his young life in Mainframe.

The boy jerked his eyes open to near darkness, unable to place his surroundings. He tried to move his arms, only to find that they were constricted to his sides. In a moment of panic, he snapped upright and flailed, trying to free himself.

"Shhh! Hey, it's OK. Calm down!"

"B-Bob?" Enzo gasped, his throat raw and his voice raspy. He felt strong hands on his shoulders and finally remembered, in a flash memory – the game. He was tightly cocooned in a blanket, Bob's overcoat wrapped around him. "What…"

"Take it easy." The Guardian said softly, unwrapping the boy from the blanket. "Sorry if I scared you – I thought you'd be warmer that way."

Enzo stared outside blearily. The fire was still blazing, and a soft gray light was beginning to paint the horizon. "Aren't-t y-y-you c-c-cold?" he asked, shivering furiously.

"I'm all right." The Guardian smiled, though his face looked almost as blue as it had before they'd rebooted. "How're you?"

"Uuungh!" Enzo groaned, as the full force of the chill air jolted him fully into wakefulness. "User! I'm s-s-s-so c-c-c-c-old! I can't f-f-feel my f-fingers…"

"Here." The Guardian commanded. He pulled his gloves off, then the youngster's, and grabbed a small hand between his own. He began to rub furiously.

"Wh-what are y-y-y-you d-doing?"

"Gotta get the code flowing to your hands." Bob said grimly. He released the boy's hand and reached for the other, repeating the procedure.

"Ow!" Enzo moaned as the feeling returned to his fingertips, accompanied by a fierce prickling. "It h-h-hurts!"

"I know. That's a good sign. How're your feet?"

"All right." The boy rasped. He crawled over towards the blessed warmth of their fire, gasping as it washed over him. "Why d-d-didn't you wake m-me up to watch the f-f-fire? Why'd you g-g-give me the blanket? It's not f-fair!"

The silver-haired sprite wrapped the blanket around the boy's shoulders and draped an arm around him. "I was fine, Enzo – I had the fire to keep me warm. I couldn't sleep anyways. Thinking too much."

"Are y-you OK?"

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking, but I've been through a lot worse." He lied.

Enzo frowned and snuggled closer against the Guardian, shivering and holding his hands and feet near the fire. "Not too close." Bob warned. "Don't want to warm them up too fast – do it gradually."

"K." the youngster whispered. "User! I c-can't believe it c-could ever be this c-c-cold! How can this be a g-game?

"It is, Enzo – that's all I know." The Guardian sighed. "And we have to figure out what it's going to take to win it. How do you feel – strong enough to keep going?"

"Yeah. I can g-go. I j-just need to warm up a little…"

"We'll wait for the sun to come up – maybe it'll warm things up a bit." Bob smiled. "Want some water? I kept it close enough to the fire that it wouldn't freeze up."

"Thanks. My throat hurts." The boy accepted the flask and took a small sip.

"That's the cold air. Remember what I said about breathing through your nose, OK? It'll help a lot."

"I'll try." Enzo rasped. "B-Bob, I'm hungry!" The boy was aware that he sounded like a complaining little kid, but he couldn't help himself – he felt truly miserable.

"Yeah, me too. But I don't think there's gonna be much of anything growing around here in this weather. We could always go hunting, I suppose. It'd take a lot of time, though…"

"Hunting? You m-mean kill something?" Enzo protested. "I d-don't wanna do that!"

"I think we're gonna have to wait then, Kiddo." Bob said gently. "We haven't got anything else and I don't think we'll have much luck foraging out here. We really can't afford to waste any more time, either."

"I'll be all right." Enzo said despondently. "We can eat after w-we win the game, right?" The boy took another swig of water.

"Go easy on that. I haven't seen any streams or anything so we might need to make it last for a while."

The youngster handed the flask back to Bob. "Can't we just eat snow? It's all over the p-place! It's made of water, isn't it?"

"Not unless we have a fire to melt it." Bob said. "Eating snow is the worst thing you can do, Enzo – no matter how thirsty you get. It makes you colder inside, and that can be bad - very bad. Understand?"

"Man!" Enzo moaned. "I don't know about any of this stuff. I must be basic. I wouldn't last ten nanos without you around!"

"I didn't know it either – until I learned it!" Bob grinned, taking a miniscule sip of water and stowing the flask back in the knapsack. "One good thing about this random game – you're learning a lot of new stuff. That's alphanumeric, right?"

"I guess." Enzo smiled weakly. The sky above them was slowly brightening, though it was still painted in a solid slate gray overcast. "I can go now Bob. Let's find the User and blow this place, OK?"

"The User? Almost forgot about him." Bob frowned. He squeezed the boy gently. "Sure you're ready? We might have a long walk."

"Let's do it." Enzo sighed. The notion of leaving the bosom of their fire was enough to deflate his spirit. He was drawn to the blessed warmth, but there was some other lure too, that the youngster couldn't put his finger on. It seemed like the only safe place in the bizarre world they were trapped in. But Bob was counting on him…

"That's my boy. I'll just break down the shelter and we can take off, OK?"

"Right, Bob." Enzo warmed his hands and feet by the fire one last time, not knowing when he'd be getting another chance.

"Shit!" O'Brien cursed. He'd had high hopes for that game – it'd been running for days, with no winner. Who knew how much time would be needed? But now it was over – the guy from Cleveland had finished it. The young programmer tapped a button on his keyboard and settled down for another long wait.

The weather was getting worse – there was no doubt about it. Bob scowled as a gust of wind stung his face with hard pellets of icy snow. The sun was directly overhead – or so his internal clock was guessing. It was impossible to tell through the thick could layer. The wind was unmistakably rising, and the snow beginning to fall harder.

No matter how far they walked their surroundings never seemed to change much. The hills gently rose and fell beneath their feet, the snowy landscape periodically spotted with thick stands of coniferous trees and white-barked deciduous ones. The mountains they'd been heading towards might or might not have been getting closer – they had disappeared in the thickening snow.

Bob cast a glance down at his traveling companion, worry beginning to gnaw hard at his processor. The Guardian's feet and hands were beginning to numb, and his muscles to ache. The pang of hunger was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. If it was that bad for him, what must Enzo be feeling? The boy hadn't complained – indeed, he'd stumbled along in a silence so persistent it was worrying in itself. The boy's small muscles weren't ready for the kind of punishment they were taking, and he'd never been exposed to cold or food deprivation before. Their ravages on his body were as real as they could possibly be. The look of abject misery on the youngster's face tore at Bob's heart.

"Hang on." He panted, stopping the boy with a hand on his shoulder. They stood in a thick stand of forest, the wind howling through the branches above them. "Maybe we should rest for a while, Enzo. We've been going pretty hard."

The youngster took a wheezing breath and gritted his teeth. "N-no! I'm f-f-fine. Let's k-keep going…"

"Oh, Enzo…" Bob sighed. He retrieved the flask of water from the knapsack and handed it to his companion. "It'll be very cold – just a little sip." The Guardian looked around, scowling. "I don't like this weather – it's getting worse."

"I don't feel so good, Bob." Enzo said softly, covering his eyes.

"What's the matter?"

"My head hurts. And my f-feet are numb…"

"Crash!" Bob growled under his breath. "What's the deleted point of all this? It doesn't make any sense…" The Guardian felt a weight at his side and found that Enzo was leaning against him, eyes closed and shivering. "We might have to stop. If the weather gets any worse we won't be able to keep going."

"No!" Enzo coughed. "W-we g-gotta finish the game! I hate this p-place."

"We can't win if we're deleted in a blizzard." Bob said gently, absently warming Enzo's hand between his own. "I know you're trying to be strong, Enzo – but this is pretty bad. I'm not sure how much more you can take."

"I d-d-don't wanna stay here!" Enzo rasped. "I c-can k-keep going. Please?"

Bob squatted down and looked the youngster in the eye. "I'm gonna be honest with you, Tiger - we're in trouble. If we keep going and the weather gets worse we might be deleted – we won't be able to build a fire in these conditions."

Enzo said nothing, though his eyes widened at the Guardian's words. "We could stop here and wait it out – but then we might lose the game. I'm not sure where we could shelter here either – even if we stopped. This is bad - very bad."

Enzo stared into Bob's eyes, digesting what his friend had said. Though he was pretty sure Bob didn't know it, the green-haired boy was well aware that the Guardian routinely said things strictly to make Enzo feel better. He was flattered, and Bob was happier not knowing he knew. But to hear the worry and fear in Bob's voice now brought home the harshness of their predicament.

"Whatever y-y-you say we should do, B-Bob." he stammered through chattering teeth. His faith in the Guardian had always brought him through before. "I w-wanna keep going b-b-but I'll stop if you w-want."

Bob wrapped his arms around him and the boy reveled in the momentary respite from the wind. "I picked a good student." The silver-haired sprite whispered. "Let's keep going for a while and try to find a decent shelter, all right?"

"Right." Enzo rasped. The Guardian released him from his embrace and the boy reluctantly pulled away. With a deep breath they stumbled onward through the trees, the sound of the screaming wind increasing in pitch with every microsecond.

Enzo wasn't sure he'd heard it at first – his senses seemed to be numbed along with the rest of his body – but after several milliseconds he detected another sound along with the wind. It was a lower, steadier roaring, coming from somewhere off in the trees. The wind made detecting the source impossible. He started to speak and managed only a strangled croak though his tight throat.

"What's the matter?" Bob frowned, kneeling next to him.

"Do you hear it?" Enzo whispered.

"Hear what?"

"I can h-hear it." Enzo scowled, frustrated. "S-some kind of - I d-d-dunno. C-can't you hear it?"

Bob looked at him worriedly for a nano, then lifted his head, brow furrowed in concentration. "I can't hear anything. Just the wind."

"C-c-c-crash!" Enzo spat. "I know I c-can-"

"Shhh!" Bob said suddenly. His cracked lips broke into a grin. "Bless your ears, Pal! It's a river!"

"A r-r-river?"

"Like a data stream – remember?" Bob grinned. "It must be early in the season – it's not frozen over." He swept the startled boy into his arms and took off at a half-trot through the trees. Stopping every few nanos and cocking his head to listen, the Guardian picked his way through the forest until he pulled to a stop, panting, still holding Enzo aloft.

The boy looked down to see what looked like a large silver data stream cutting a straight swath through the trees. They were standing atop a steep, snow-covered bank, which cut all the way down to the surface of the stream. The water flowed rapidly, large chunks of ice bobbing on its surface.

"Finally – we catch a break!" Bob smiled. "I was just about ready to give up and stop for the cycle, too."

"This is a r-river, huh? C-c-cool."

"Yup. The bank's too dangerous here, but we can follow it till it's less steep and refill our water bottles. This is good, Enzo – if we follow this river we'll run into a settlement sooner or later."

"Really?" the youngster rasped. "Think they'll have f-food? And maybe it'll be w-warm too…"

"You bet!" Bob grinned. "And we might even figure out what this deleted game is about, too. Good work Cadet!"

"Alphanumeric." Enzo said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

"You feel like you can keep going?"

The prospect of yet more walking deflated the boy in a nano – it'd felt good to have the Guardian carry him for a while. But at least now they had some goal in mind… "Sure, B-Bob. L-let's do it."

"Right." Bob smiled. He gently set the boy down in the snow, Enzo wincing as his thinly shod feet sunk into the chill depths. He fixed his gaze on Bob's shoulders and set off at a shambling gait in his wake.

Bob's back and the sound of the rushing stream and howling wind were Enzo's only companions as they trudged onward, the boy eagerly hoping for any sign of habitation. "You all right?" Bob called back to him every few nanos, slowing his pace consciously to match the youngster's.

"C-cool." The boy would rasp in reply. It became a routine, along with his occasional glances at the river, awesome in its swift power. The boy found that he could feel his feet less and less, and that his body seemed to stop somewhere around his knees. There was a growing disconnect between his mind and his physical state, yet somehow he kept moving forward.

"You all right?" Bob called.

"C-cool." It happened so fast that Enzo didn't even have time to fully register it – one nano he was upright and lurching forward, the next he seemed to be on his back. The weird thing was that he was still moving, somehow. A strangled cry of surprise escaped his throat, and then a deeper chill replaced the one already consuming him.

Bob turned his head at the muffled thump behind him, puzzled for a split nano by Enzo's absence, the gray of the tattered blanket stark against the white hillside. Then his jaw dropped as he spotted the boy, tumbling down the bank below where the slope had given way beneath his feet. He had time to scream the youngster's name once before Enzo slipped beneath the murky water.