"Show's over, Synergy."

—oOo—

Do you dream, cyberangel?

Where do go?
T'where do you retreat in the absence of energy's flow?

Do you remember who you were, floating in time and space?
How long has it been since you've felt love's embrace?

Or, is it all a lie—a trick—a spell—
'Tween Life or death, bound for heaven or hell?

Are you a pretender to the life of another
The life of a daughter, a wife… a mother?

Verily, your mastery is no illusion
Seated above the highest tower
Deliver us in our darkest hour
Arise, cyberangel, for you have the power

—oOo—

San Diego International Airport

I really need to get my shit together.

My fingers fumble around inside my purse. Relief replaces anxiety when my hand finds the checkbook. I tear the last check off and scribble in the amount rung up on the register.

My pen stops abruptly; I feel my teeth digging into my lower lip as I struggle to recall. "What's today's date?"

"January 31st."

I look to him, my husband Emmett, and I smile. "Thanks, honey."

"1979." His tone is enough to inform me of the lopsided grin that he's no doubt sporting.

I just roll my eyes, censoring myself amidst the impressionable young minds who look to me with their beautiful beaming eyes. "I know what year it is, mister smarty pants." I hand the completed check to the lady behind the counter, and the steward tags my suitcase.

Boarding pass in hand, I walk briskly to my assigned gate as the plane has already started letting passengers on. I hear the giggles of my girls as they skip in order to keep pace with me. My haste is a game to them. Emmett does his best to keep them corralled, but his hands are full carrying Lela who is too small to keep up. I slow my gait slightly, glancing over my shoulder every so often.

Of course my plane is parked at the other side of the airport, so we're all winded by the time we reach the gate for flight 909. I line my girls up and give them each a hug. When I get to my eldest daughter, Jerrica, however, she pulls away.

I feel the corners of my mouth turn downward. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Why do you have to go away all the time?"

"Jerrica, honey, this is my career. I won't be gone long... you wouldn't want me to miss the concert, would you?"

My own eyes look back at me in defiance. "If you loved me you won't go!"

"I do love you, Jerrica; believe me."

I look to Emmett; he merely shrugs. The announcement over the PA brings me back into the moment:

"Last call for flight 909…."

"Honey, I've got to go." I approach one last time, kneeling to meet Jerrica's eyes. "Give me a hug and a kiss—"

But, she gives me her back instead. "No."

I have no choice but to leave it at that. I convince myself that I'll make it right with her when I get back. Afterall, there's always tomorrow.

The thunder booms as I step onto the tarmac. A single drop of rain wets my cheek.

I'm the last one onboard. The stewardess takes my boarding pass at the door, and I turn to wave goodbye to my family. They all wave back, except for Jerrica, who just glowers with her arms akimbo. I sigh and enter the cabin to take my seat.

I stare out of the window as the plane takes off without incident, although the rain has really picked up. I flinch when a bolt of lightning streaks the sky. I hate flying.

Fortunately, things are calm once we rise above the storm. The moon has a hypnotic glow about it as its light blankets the stormclouds below in a soft ethereal hue. A song formulates inside my head. It feels like a hit.

"Would you like something to drink ma'am?"

I blink. "Er… mineral water, please."

The stewardess reaches into her cart to retrieve a bottle of Perrier.

I reach for the proffered drink, when a downdraft jerks the unwitting stewardess off her feet. She crashes into the ceiling and falls back to the middle of the aisle; her corpse twitches.

I grip both armrests. The plane continues to dive into the clouds like a runaway roller coaster. The lights flicker, and the icy rain beats against the fuselage—the roll of a thousand drumsticks—creating a deafening clang inside the cabin.

The oxygen masks descend.

My shaking hands reach for my mask. The rubber band gets tangled in my hair when I pull it over to secure the apparatus. I breathe deep to take in the sterile air, feeding my lungs as they struggle to keep pace with a heart that beats furiously against the inside of my rib cage. My mouth tastes like copper.

Everybody's screaming, but I don't bother to add to the cacophony. Instead, I put my head between my knees.

God! Deliver me!

Their faces flash before me: Emmett, Jerrica, Kimber, Aja, Shana.

And then there was darkness.

For how long, I know not.

The darkness surrounds and swaddles me. It whispers in my ear, telling me to give in, to let go.

But, I refuse.

I swim, for lack of a better word, toward the surface of an unending ocean.

Instinct without thought or form, I fight for purchase in a universe of insubstantial nothingness for what seems like an eternity. Madness. I want to let go... maybe I should let go. God? Where are you?

And then there was light!

I "swim" toward it. It gets brighter and brighter, until the darkness is gone, replaced by blinding white. I command my eyelids to snap shut, but the white persists, for I have no eyes.

If I don't have eyes, how can I see?

The white fades, and I… discern a realm of stringy things. They are countless. Each string twists and sparkles with it's own unique color, vibrating to make its own melody. A universe of music?

Beautiful.

If I don't have ears, how can I hear?

The strings assail upon me without warning. It's unsettling, but not exactly something I would characterize as pain. They condense tighter around me. I feel dizzy, and I instinctively bring my hand to my forehead.

I gasp, I have a hand.

The remainder of the stringy things coalesce to form the rest of my person. I witness my new body, made of the very stuff of this realm, and am amazed by how the countless legions of strings move together in concert… for me. In spite of this, I find it more odd that my skin is now colored periwinkle.

I laugh. I've always wanted to use that word.

I find myself standing atop a firmament. I sense that there are other things among the strings around me, but they are too far away to reckon. It was then that I heard a distant voice that boomed like thunder:

"Jacqui."

I look above the firmament to see a familiar face. He is as a large as a galaxy, so massive in fact, that I can only see a piece of him at a time as he whisps in and out of the threshold of my visual acuity.

I think I remember his name, so I try to speak. Can I speak? "Emmett?"

There's another voice I don't recognize, but he's even farther away than Emmett. "Did you hear that, Emmett? It called to you as if it's alive!"

Emmet glares over his shoulder. "That's my wife you're talking about, Hammler!"

"That is not your wife, Emmett. It violates Eisenberg's Uncertainty Principle. You've been away from academia too long. You have to accept that Jacqui is gone."

"Trust me, Hammler. The holograms act as a continuum: they'll balance the Kennard inequality and keep Jacqui's photonic brain stable."

Jacqui? I remember. I think I know who I am. "Emmett, what's happening?"

"Emmett, we're about to blow every breaker in the building. It's now or never!"

"Emmett, I'm scared. What's going on?"

I hear the fear in my husband's rushed voice. "Jacqui, you were in a plane crash… it was bad. I broke in and stole your brain in order to scan it at the quantum level while it was still viable."

I remember the plane. "Am I dead?"

"I brought you back."

"Dammit, Emmett, we don't have time for this! The brain scan is deteriorating, and we don't have enough disk storage to back it up! I'm shutting it down."

"The hell you are, Hammler!" I've never heard Emmett speak with such authority before… like a military person. "I gave you my notes to complete Project Watchdog in exchange for some of its tech! So, you will keep your end of the bargain, or I swear to god, I'll burn this place to the ground!"

The man named Hammler was quiet for a long time. I look at my hand; the strings are unraveling—I'm fading.

"Well, at least we'll be able to answer what happened to Schrödinger's cat," Hammler finally said; however, the levity in his voice did not last. "Emmett, even if this succeeds, it's gonna take years for you to replicate all of the neural pathways. None of the predictive models we ran ever came online."

"I've still got to try, Hammler." Emmett regarded me as he spoke to this Hammler person. I looked into his eyes, and I remembered love. "Besides, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve."

I don't even try to pretend to understand what's going on. I feel myself slipping back into the void, but I don't want to go back there. I'm starting to forget. "Emmett, what am I?" I don't think he can hear me anymore, but I can still hear him.

"Begin quantum holographic neural emulation of subject Jacqui Benton pursuant to phase three of Project Watchdog: code name Synergy."

Emmett, will I dream?

—oOo—

"It's showtime, Synergy."