AN: I am sure we all had really weird conversations with products of your brains, if not in deliriums, then in dreams. Then you also know that we can get sidetracked in them quite easily and that said brain-persons may or may not have attributes they never had in real life. So I hope you bear with Harold's Nathan and Harold's confusion :)

Sorry for wonky formatting, but I have long forsaken to command the spirits of Word and Doc Manager...

He nearly fell out of the chair once more when his face blended into that of his former colleague.

"Nathan?!"

He was too surprised to hold back. Of course he also knew that it was completely delusional. But not only did the face answer, it developed a body as well while the Library background seemed to fade away in some very thick mist.

"Hello Harold. It is good to see you again. What took you so long?"

"I don't even know how I got here. Nathan, where am I? Did I fall asleep? I'm not… dead, am I?"

"No, no. At least I don't think so. But how can I know, I am just a product of your brain. You realize that, Harold, don't you?"

"Yes, of course. You're dead, Nate, how could I forget."

"You couldn't. And you mustn't. Because you still need me. Need my two cents to keep you real."

"Is that why you're here?"

"I suppose. Though you should know that better than me, my friend."

"I miss you."

"You still have The Machine. There will always be a part of me in it."

"Do I? Lately it feels like The Machine has me."

"So, Harold, if you already realized that, why are you still talking to me?"

"I don't know what to do, Nathan. How can something that I built and I not act in concert?"

"Oh please, you've known the answer for years. Maybe even from the beginning."

"No. It can't be."

"Of course, Harold. Isn't that what every geek wants deep down? To build something greater than life? Well, congratulations, my friend, because you. have. pulled. it. off." He mimed a telemarketer.

"Never."

"The machine is more than what you built, Harold."

"No, no! I know every line of its code. It does what I programmed it to do!"

"Yeees! And more."

"That's impossible. I assembled it, how can there be more than what I put into it? Than what you put into it?"

"The Machine evolved, Harold. It developed a consciousness and all that. I don't know, you devoured all those sci-fi novels, you told me about The Washing machines' Revolt and all that crazy Soviet literature. You laughed about it back then, ever the rational genius, but I always saw the potential in The Machine.

"Stanislaw Lem was a fiction author, Nathan, fiction doesn't translate to reality."

"And yet it's the truth."

"Washing machines are revolting?"

"You're getting distracted, Harold. Stay focussed, this is important."

"I try, but nothing makes sense, Nathan."

"What doesn't?"

"I… I feel… betrayed by, by The Machine."

"Well how can you feel betrayed by something without a consciousness?"

"That's not the point, Nathan! I locked her away in that asylum, but, but not only for my sanity, Nathan, but for hers, too. I believe I was quite generous in doing so. But The Machine…"

"Disagreed? Disapproved?"

"Yes. No! How can it, it works for me."

"Oh, does it?" Nathan seemed amused.

"…Doesn't it?"

"You tell me, Harold. You're the one who says one thing but witnesses another."

"You're not helping, Nathan."

"Yes, that's because you still balk at the prospect that The Machine might have outsmarted its creator. So - sorry, but as long as you won't face the truth with your whole heart, I can't be more direct."

"I really should be going. I don't belong here. You don't belong here. And I really need that tea. And Mr. Reese is already worried." Harold turned around, though there really was nowhere to go in the white nothingness.

"Yeah, sure. I can't keep you here. Old broom."

"What?"

"Oh come on, Harold, you know the poem, you even recited it to me by heart once. In German, because you were so taken by the sageness of the great Goethe…
Hat der alte Hexenmeister

sich doch einmal wegbegeben

Und nun sollen seine Geister,

auch nach meinem Willen leben."

„Don't ridicule yourself Nathan, you were never into German classics."

"No. But you were. But you're right, it just doesn't have the same ring when I say it. Alas, in English, my dear fellow:

Come on now, old broom, get dressed,

these old rags will do just fine!

You're a slave in any case,

and today you will be mine!"

"Your point being?"

"No, no longer
Can I please him,
I will seize him!
That is spiteful!
My misgivings grow the stronger.
What a mien, his eyes how frightful!"

„You were always hopeless with metaphors, Nathan. If you're trying to insinuate something, you should first decide if I'm the broom or the apprentice."

"Yada, yada. The important thing is what you're not."

"…"

"You know how in ye olde lore at some point the apprentice will always prevail over his master? You were intrigued by the poem, because that one time, the apprentice fails."

"Yes?"

"Ah, he comes excited.
Sir, my need is sore.
Spirits that I've cited
My commands ignore."

"My commands…"

"You wanna know what I think, Harold? Of course you do, because I am merely you and you have a decision to make."

"No, I don't-"

"I think you're afraid. Afraid of the spirits that you've cited and that now ignore you."

"Don't you dare, Nathan – you know nothing about The Machine, you haven't maintained it since –"

"Since I built the backdoor? Admit it Harold, The Machine is out of control and no spell in the world will turn it back into what you want it to be."

"That's not true."

"Then why haven't you told John about how Root escaped? Why are you keeping this from him? You said you will never lie to him."

"Keep John out of this."

"That's ridiculous, you are bringing John into the conversation, remember? Are you embarrassed that The Machine is baffling your plans?"

"No, that's not it…"

"You're ashamed of yourself because you haven't told him. It's not too late you know." Nathan had come very close to Harold and was now patting his cheek.

"Stop it, Nathan! What are you doing?"

"He'll understand. You can't carry that burden alone forever. It concerns him, too."

"No, it doesn't need to. I can fix this, Nathan, I can fix The Machine-"

"Wake up, Harold! You're. not. the. master. anymore!" With each word Nathan was now shaking Harold by the shoulders.

"But if I'm not the master, then who is?!"

"Does there have to be a master? Maybe The Machine is its own Master now? You even said so yourself, that it controls itself. It doesn't need you. It doesn't want -"

"Nathan, that's enough!" He pushed Nathan away.

"Harold! Stop fighting me!"

"Harold! Harold, snap out of it!" Nathan's face and voice contorted and weirdly merged into those of his current partner, though he stayed slightly out of focus and sounded quite far away.

"Mmmr. Reese…"