Livin' In The Future

by Ottovw

John Connor is in the future. He came to find Cameron's Chip. He must deal with uncertain and unlikely allies. Cope with unknown, and unforeseen enemies. Fight the War Against The Machine. AND if that wasn't enough he STILL has to save the World.

11. Chapter 11

Livin' in the Future

By Ottovw

2010

Chapter 11

John-

John gasped. The air was thick and humid. It rasped at his throat. He wanted to scream. The scents were redolent and over powering. He wanted to puke. He hurt. Time travel always left him feeling flu like. All his joints ached but on top of that he was covered in bruises. Cameron was already standing over him and clothed. He looked up at her and heard his own sharp intake of breathe as he tried to rise to his feet and pain lanced his right lower leg.

"John?" She was wearing a denim skirt contrasting striped thigh highs, her boots and a bright yellow t-shirt with a modified 'No fear' logo over her left breast. If he hadn't been in so much pain he might have laughed it said: "No Fate". Over this she wore Kyle's coat. She helped him to his feet and handed the coat to him. "Put this on."

John did and looked down at his leg. His right foot was red and blistered. There was a thin bright red line five inches long running down his shin. John looked at the coat. It looked right but it had no smell. None at all. It didn't feel right either. It was too slick almost greasy. It was strange it looked like cotton but felt like polyester.

Cameron knelt and looked his lower leg up and down. "You have first and second degree burns on the leading edge of your leg and foot. That's interesting." She reached out and touched his shin.

John winced.

She withdrew a strange needle shaped piece of metal from his leg. The bottom was almost a bulbous it tapered back to a much too fine a point. She handed it to John. "Coltan."

John looked at it. "What the hell?"

"John, I'm going to get you some clothes. Find a safe place and hide."

"How will you find me?"

She looked at the coat.

"Oh." John looked around they were in a small alley. Cameron walked off toward the street he went the other way. His ears still rang and felt like they were stuffed with cotton.

Despite this he know how noisy it was here. It was dark he thought it must be around two or three in the morning.

It was actually a quarter to three.

Even so he could hear the steady hum of road noise. He limped towards the shadows and turned right as soon as he could. He watched his step, not merely because he was barefoot but because three weeks in the future had taught him how to move quietly.

He passed a dumpster and crouched in the shadows. He took stock. It was hot. He was already sweating. Rivulets of grayish radioactive dust ran down his chest and his legs. It stung in the open wound. His hair was spikey with grease and grime. He needed a bath. He was way beyond a shower.

Looking up he saw few stars even as tiny a slice of the sky as the alley allowed. Light pollution, he thought. Ahead was a wall mounted light he turned down a darker alley. He passed a dumpster the smell of rotting food coming off of it had an almost physical presence. There was the smell of car exhaust from a road so far away he could only hear it. There was the stink of urine that seemed to fill the tiny alley. It was the humidity, he knew that but knowing something intellectually was different from actually experiencing it.

He circled to the far side of the dumpster. He wanted to crouch but was worried that he might not be able to stand back up. He hurt. He was tired. He was hungry. He couldn't even remember the last time he drank anything.

He needed to pay attention. There were scraps of newspaper but nothing with a legible date. He found a sun faded can of Dr Pepper but the can was almost two dimensional.

He leaned back against the wall. He shut his eyes. Unbidden images flashed in his head. The almost surprised look on the Captain's face the splayed and organ free ribcage. He jerked and looked around. He shook his head to clear away the memory. It didn't work and only made his headache worse.

He looked at the metal sliver. How did he get a chunk of coltan in his leg? He held it by the roundish lump at the bottom. It was almost tear shaped. The narrow end was tapered to the point of near invisibility. Then he saw it about mid way down the 'needle' somehow imbedded in it was a piece of hair, the end was shriveled up as if it had been burned. He remembered.

It had been trapped under the downed HK. He had been furious. He stood on it so it could look up at him. He jammed the plasma rifles' barrel against its bare metal skull and said "I'm John Connor." The urge to vomit returned. He cocked his hand back.

"No, John, don't throw it away. It has to be destroyed." He looked at her. "Put these on."

The t-shirt was dark and plain. The cargo pants were a dark shade of blue. The boots fit. Well one did anyway. He looked at the sunglasses and then back at Cameron. "It much brighter here. You will need them."

John limped. His right foot was swollen. They followed back alley's. Cameron seemed to know the way.

The came around a corner ahead he could see the street cars passed in both directions. They were going too fast for him to date. Even so at more than 30 feet the ambient light was still bright. "Come on, John."

He stepped out onto the sidewalk and fumbled for the sunglasses hanging from his t-shirts collar. The overhead street light was blinding. He turned away from it and into the glare of on coming headlights. He winced.

"It's okay, John. It will take some time to get used to but you're eyes will adjust." She took his hand and led him up the street to the right.

They went up three blocks and turned left after two more blocks John finally asked: "Where are we going?"

"Shelter."

John nodded after a few more hobbles. "Where?"

They came around a corner. "There."

They passed into the shadow between street lights. John saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Cameron had changed. She was wearing a dress now. Black and tight. She was taller. John looked down she was wearing high heels. Her hair was pulled back and up. "John, you're staring."

"Sorry," he said still staring. He looked at the building. "That's not a hotel."

"No. It's not."

"Wouldn't a hotel be safer?"

"No. This is far more secure. John, listen. Ignore the doorman. When we go through those doors. Walk to the fountain. Bear to the left. You will see a bank of elevators. Go to the elevator on the far right and wait for me there."

"Where..."

"Later, John."

They crossed the street. The doorman glared at the two young people but opened the door as they approached. The floor was a mirror bright checker board of green and white tiles. John limped to the fountain as if he owned the place. He thought it was way too over done for its rather austere surroundings. Cameron went to the right.

John stood at the elevator and waited. It didn't have a call button. It needed a key. In the reflection of the polished doors John saw someone tall and dark approach him from behind. John waited. They extended their hand stuck a key in and turned. The elevator doors opened. The figure entered the elevator and turned around. It was Ellison. John froze his heart was pounding in his chest. It felt worse than the mad dash for the plasma rifles. Worse than than the horrible walk through the desert. "Going up?"

"I'm waiting for someone." He added after too long a pause. "Thank you."

He reached out to the panel. John couldn't see it. "Are you sure? Those elevators don't go to your floor."

My floor? He had to decide there were cameras watching. Someone even now might be calling security or the police. Or the FBI. He wanted to look behind him a the lobby. He shut that down too noticeable. Dammit.

John blinked and stepped into the elevator he turned and looked out he could see no one else in the lobby. Where was Cameron? Ellison pressed '4'. When had Ellison arrived? John hadn't heard the doorman open the door. Was there a parking deck here? Was it one of the bunkers he had lived in for the better part of three weeks? John knew better than to talk. Apartments like these usually had security cameras in their elevators. Besides he didn't think he could trust his voice.

The door opened with a chime and a computer generated female voice announcing the floor. Ellison exited and turned to look at John. "John?" John followed fear taking the limp right out of his step. They stopped at room 422.

"Whose apartment is this?"

Ellison looked at him. "Yours. Ready John?"

"For?"

Ellison smiled it was Cameron's big bright fake smile. John felt his heart rate slow. He almost sighed. "I don't know." Something was folded beside the door. Ellison picked it up and then opened the door. They stepped in.

A few steps in from the tall and wide door an alarm pad chirped. It had an old style LCD like a calculator. At the left end a "6" flashed. The door closed behind Ellison there was a loud series of snaps as several magnetic dead bolts locked the door. They both turned at the sound. John looked at Ellison. She was Cameron again. He blinked. "What's the code?" He looked a the door. From this side it obviously wasn't an ordinary door. It was an unpainted heavy steel security door. Cameron reached out and touched it lightly with the fingers of her right hand.

Without turning, her head tilted. "I don't know."

John just stared at her. "Great," he muttered to himself. It worked once before. He punched in the date of Judgement Day. The tone was deep and angry. The flashing LCD changed to a "5".

"Great," he repeated. He tried his birthday. "4". He tried his mother's birthday. "3". He looked at Cameron. "When did the war end?"

He punched that date it. "2". What if its not a date? He glared at the pad. This was his apartment it was going to be a date. Dates made sense. It would be a date. "When did my mother die?"

"Which time?" She said oh so matter of factly.

"What?" He looked at her. The tone coming from the alarm pad changed. There was a sound overhead.

"That's interesting."

John looked at Cameron who was looking up. He looked. Nozzles had dropped out of the ceiling. Cameron turned back to the door her fist back. "Wait. Wait!" The past changed the future. The date of J-day had changed. His own birthday must have changed. The future is not set. Great. Was there a constant? He looked at Cameron. "When were you built?"

Cameron turned from the door looking at him her head tilted. "July 24, 2025."

John tried it. "Bing!" There were a loud series of snaps as the bolts retracted. A his as the nozzles withdrew. "Jesus." Housekeeping would never stand for anything like this. They would have their own key. He looked at her "Where did you get that key?"

"Where you left it. In your mailbox."

He nodded. Of course. He turned and looked at the apartment. The lighting was dim. He took off his sunglasses. It was enormous. The floor of the foyer was a white polished marble lightly line with grey it was fifteen feet across. Facing away from the door to his immediate left was a conference room. It was walled with glass. Directly ahead of him some fifty feet away was a glass wall the dark beyond it reflected the apartment back at John. To his left off the foyer was a sunken living room. The carpet was white the leather sofas were white. The stone topped tables were white.

He turned back to Cameron flanking the doors were those strange greek vases with conical bottoms. Amphora, he thought. They were on metal stands almost orange in color. Bronze he guessed. Metal. There was metal everywhere here. The plain grey door. The chromed legs of the side tables and the coffee tables. The legs of the chairs and table in the conference room.

"Are you hungry?" Cameron asked.

"Yes. Where is the bathrom?"

"I don't know."

"Its late. I don't think the kitchen will be open but I'll call them and see what they have."

"Kitchen?" He heard himself say. He walked further into his apartment.

"Yes," Cameron said from the door. "The top floor is a restaurant. You and the head chef go fishing."

"I fish?" He turned and looked at Cameron she was in the living room on a corded phone. "I live here?"

She covered the mouth piece. "When you're in the states. Go take a bath. This may take some time."

He limped away from the door. He could hear her talking to someone but he couldn't make out the words. An open glass and chrome display separated the sunken living room from another room. Which had a light grey carpet. There was a large formal dining room table here with seats for ten. The table was wood with an almost mirror bright finish. It was inset with glass. Against the wall within view but far enough away for privacy was a large and well stocked bar. Well, the shelves were full. The back of the bar was lined with mirrors. He hobbled to the right passed it. There were a set of swinging double doors the kitchen. No, he thought his kitchen.

He turned and looked back. Cameron was still on the phone. He could see the door from here. He liked that. Opposite the bar was an archway he walked to it still favoring his leg. As he approached the lights came on. Again they were set very low. He couldn't believe that was accidental.

Beyond the arch was a library. Directly ahead was another door of a dark wood it matched the shelves. Shelves surrounded it. To the left and right even above it. Right away he noticed the only metal here were the brass fitting for the rooms lights and the libraries ladder.

To his left was another opening. He went that way. It was a room with dark wood paneling dark leather chairs and low tables. Very cozy. There was a chess set against the wall. There was no metal here. Directly ahead was another opening. He must be even with the bottom of the conference room now. He went in.

It was a bedroom. There was a large low bed centered on the left wall. The floor was wood. There was a low stand beside him barely less than knee high. There was a shallow wooden tray on top of it. He could see it was scuffed and dented. Keys and coins John thought. Beside it was a phone charger.

The room was dominated by one thing and he refused to look at it. There was a large open area in front of the bed. Adjacent to it was a rack of weapons, they were practice weapons. A rattan katana. A staff. Some neoprene practice nunchaku. I know martial arts?

He turned and looked at the bed. He decided to get it over with. He looked up. It was a portrait. The woman was wearing a long formal gown. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. It was black and lacy. It covered more than it showed but what it showed. Caught John's attention. She was looking off to one side. Not directly out of the portrait. Not directly at you. It was Cameron, of course, and she wasn't looking at John. Not the John who commissioned the painting. There was something very sad about that. There was a lump in his throat. He blinked away tears. He looked away from it. There was another opening beyond the racked weapons.

He stepped in. Again the dim lights came on. The floor was white marble to his right was a shower. There were nozzles set in the walls and ceiling the shower head was looked like an upside down frying pan. He shook his head.

To his left was the tub. It was huge. He kicked off his boots. Took off his shirt and dropped his pants. He turned on the water. This might take some time he decided. He looked away from the tub. Opposite him was a broad marble sink, above was an equally broad mirror. He looked at himself. What he saw startled him. He had lost weight. The baby fat was gone. He needed a haircut. He needed a shave. Even in the dim light he was squinting. He looked grim. Slitted eyes. A humorless set to his mouth. He looked angry. He walked to the mirror. He reminded himself of mercenaries who had worked with his mother in South America. He looked scary. The sink was bare and cool to the touch. There were no shelves. He saw a narrow gap in the center of the mirror he pushed it. The mirror split. On the left was a shaving brush, a box of powdered soap and a straight razor. That's when he noticed the strop hanging from a ring in the walls marble facade.

Behind him he could hear the tub filling. The mirror was already starting to steam. He opened the other side. He smiled there was a can of barbasol and pack of disposable razors.

He closed the mirror. Cameron was standing behind him. He jerked. Earning him a sharp pain up his right leg. He hissed. "How long have you been there?" Then he realized he was naked. He looked around. Where there not towels here? He limped around Cameron who turned with him as he went. John interpreted her look as appraising. Was she checking him out? Disturbed by the thought he dismissed it.

"A little while."

John sat on the edge of the tub and covered himself with his t-shirt. He noticed she had a first aid kit in her hands. "Where did you find that?

"It was on the shelf behind the bar."

John nodded. The tub was about two thirds full he turn the water off.

"They said they could bring you a sandwich."

"That's fine." John nodded.

"In seventeen... sixteen minutes."

"Great." John nodded again.

She stared at him. He stared at her. "I'd like to take a bath now."

"Oh." Cameron looked around and then set the first aid kit down in the middle of the floor.

John looked at it. Then slid into the tub. A sigh escaped him despite the way the hot water attacked his foot and his wound. He lay back in the tub. There was space here for three or four. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He opened them. He stood up. He looked around. There was no soap. He looked again. There were still no towels. "Cameron!"

She was there in the opening there was no door. "John?"

He sank back into the water. "Um. Can you find me some soap and some towels?"

She nodded and stepped away.

He thought of something else and stood up again. "Bath soap!" He yelled after her. "And bath towels!"

She was back in the opening. She looked at him. Her look said more concisely than words. "Duh."

He covered himself again.

She looked him up and down. Then smiled and turned away. "I'll be back."

He lay on his back in his own huge bed. He was wearing a soft fluffy bathrobe. He'd never used one before. Cameron was dabbing an antibiotic ointment on his wound. "This is going to scar."

John nodded. He saw the portrait upside down above him. He looked at Cameron. "What do you think of it?"

She looked up at the picture her head tilted slightly. "Its not a very accurate depiction."

"What?"

"The scale is off. The picture is nearly 3mm taller than me. The eyes are 2mm too high and nearly .75mm too far apart. The nose is..."

"All right. All right. I get it." John interrupted. "Its inaccurate."

She looked down at John.

"Nearly .75mm?"

"Yes. They are off by 0.7462mm."

John just shook his head and shut his eyes.

"I do like the dress. Its tight." Cameron stiffened.

John opened his eyes and looked at her. "What?"

"The doorbell." She stood up and looked down at him. "They are eight minutes late." She left.

John stared at the ceiling. Cameron was wrong. No one lived here. There was art work. There were books. But the place was too sterile. Other than the portrait, that Cameron didn't like, it was devoid of any personality. Future John might sleep here now and again but the no one lived here.

"John?" Cameron said in his head. "Your food is here."

John sat up and looked around. Nothing. The grip on the katana was worn. The staff polished by handling. Otherwise nothing. He walked to the weapons rack. Touched the katana with his hand. He walked to the dining room. Cameron had sprayed an antiseptic/analgesic on the top of his foot and lower half of his leg. The skin didn't sting so much. He stepped out into the foyer and looked at Cameron at the table. There a pair of covered trays. As he walked to the table it occurred to him that the suite of rooms behind him had no sight lines on the door. That struck him as wrong. He would never do anything like that.

He sat down it smelled delicious. "What is it?"

She lifted the cover. "Pastrami, he said." It was the biggest sandwich John had ever seen. There must have been two pounds of meat jammed between inch think slices of bread. Beside the plate was a container with some sort of deep red sauce.

"How am I supposed to eat that?"

"I don't know."

"What's that?" John asked he picked up a strip of meat and put it in his mouth it was still hot, there was cheese. Cheese! It was swiss, he hadn't eaten cheese in almost a month! It was salty. It was wonderful. He jammed another piece of meat in his mouth.

Cameron lifted up the tray top. It was a fruit plate. There were grapes, sliced apple, sliced pear, red and yellow cherries. He'd never had yellow cherries. There were sliced oranges. Some of them were red. Not grapefruit red either but a kind deep brick red.

"Oh my God." John heard himself say around a mouthful pastrami.

Cameron picked up a medalion of bright green kiwi fruit between her thumb and her middle finger. She brought it to her mouth.

John swallowed. "Peal it first."

She looked at him. Looked at the fruit.

"The brown fuzzy part. Peal that off."

John found it humorous watching Cameron peal the thin ring of skin off the fruit. She put it in her mouth and swallowed. She didn't chew.

"Um."

Cameron looked at him "Water, fructose, assorted complex proteins." She looked away. "Very delicate."

John dipped his fork into the sauce and smeared it on some meat. Which he proceeded to stuff his face with. He blinked the sauce tasted like salad dressing. He looked at the yellow cherries. They weren't entirely yellow they had red highlights. "What is that?" He ate it careful not to bite down on the pit.

Cameron got a far away look. She looked back down at John. "Its a rainier cherry."

John chewed some more meat. "What's the date?"

"May 31, 1997."

His eyes shifted to her. "How do you know?"

She reached behind her back and handed him the bundle that hand beside the door. "Its yesterday's Wall Street Journal." She reached out and picked up a slice of pear.

"Cameron?"

She looked at him, and then back at the pear.

"Sit down."

She sat. She put the piece of fruit in her mouth and chewed this time. "Water, fructose..."

It was, John decided, a very nice toilet and he was puking his guts up into it. The pastrami was rich. Full of fat and salt. As much as he loved the taste. His stomach used to leaner meats and smaller portions rebelled. He had eaten in one sitting almost as much meat as he had eaten in a single day in the future.

John turned his head Cameron looked worried. She was standing in the bathrooms opening. "I want us to be perfectly clear on this subject." He said after a prolonged and colorful regurgitation.

"Yes, John."

"I am not pregnant."

She stared at him a moment. Then laughed. It was bright and clear and beautiful. It almost made the pastrami incident worthwhile. Almost.

-Future John

He started awake. He stared up at the ceiling. It wasn't a pleasant dream but he could recall no specifics. His eyes shifted in the near total darkness to the opening to his right. It led to the 'smoking' room. His explorations led him to discover the walk-in humidor. It had been concealed behind a false wood panel. He had no idea what it was. Cameron identified it for him. Beyond that was the library with the rooms only door it was perpendicular to this opening. He couldn't see it. It didn't make sense. Why make the non living areas so perfect and the bedroom suite so wrong? He was missing something. He stared up at the darkness. Somewhere above him was the ceiling. Between here and there was a life size portrait of Cameron. What the hell was going on?

Why were there no doors? Doors? There weren't even windows. He couldn't even tell he was on the fourth... He sat up. He looked to the right in the empty dark. All that was missing where the curtains. This wasn't an uptown apartment it was a luxury bunker. Dear God future John had recreated a human resistance bunker fourteen years before the war that made them!

The hint of light shown through the smoking room. The dim light in the smoking room turned on. "John?" She was in the rooms entrance. He could see her silhouette. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm missing something."

"Do you want me to get you the pajama top?"

John was so sore that he decided not to wear the pajama's top. He laughed. "No. That's not what I mean."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there's something here, in this room and I'm not seeing it.

"It is very dark." She entered the room and the recessed ceiling lights turned on. They were so low their light had a yellow cast. "Does that help?"

"No I mean. There is something hidden here."

"Oh." Cameron took two steps into the room her gaze sweeping the room. Involuntarily John eyes swept the room as well. There was nothing here. The phone charger stand by the door. The bed he was trying to sleep in and right across from him the weapons rack. He turned around and looked up at the portrait. They were only two things in the room on the walls. An accident? He didn't think so. A rack full of practice weapons and a picture of Cameron. What did it mean? This strange paring of fake weapons with the representation of a weapon? Was it supposed to mean something? Was it some sort of code? A rattan katana clattered to the floor.

"Is this what you were missing?"

John turned around. Cameron had removed the weapons rack. Behind it was a metal panel one foot square. John crawled off the front of the bed towards it. It was the only metal object in the entire room. Hell, it was the only metal object in two rooms. John walked to it. "What is it?" He knew perfectly well what it was. He pushed the panel in. It clicked and opened revealing a bulky old retinal scanner.

John looked at Cameron. Cameron looked at John and stepped away from the device. John looked at it. He leaned over it and looked into the eyepiece and pressed the button with his thumb. A light flashed into his eye. Distantly he heard a click. John turned to look. Cameron was already gone.

The apartment was huge close to 3300 square feet. Except for the last one it was bigger than any house he had ever lived in. It was a computer room, it was the locked door in the library. It made sense information was stored in a library this was an information storage device. John sat in the desk chair. Even for 1997 it was an old CRT monitor in front of it was a mouse. The computer was concealed inside the desk. The screen was dark. He tried the screens power button. He shook the mouse. He clicked it. Nothing.

"John? You probably need to close the door."

He looked at her.

"Do you want me to stay?"

John's brow furrowed. "Of course."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She closed the door. The rooms light turned off plunging the room into darkness. The monitor turned on. "John?" The question appeared on the monitor. On either side of the question were a pair of red and green dots with "no" and "yes" written in them. Over the rooms hidden speakers came a voice. John heard Cameron stiffen behind him. The voice was older, deeper it had a gravel like texture to it. As if the speaker had a persistent cough. "Hello, John. It's me. Or actually its you. This isn't really me. Or you. Its a recording. I guess. This is so confusing. Time." There was a pause and the sound of ice tinkling in a glass and something being put down on the desktop. "It messes with your head." A course humorless laugh. "Today is October 23, 1990. The screen before you will ask you a series of yes and no questions answer them truthfully and correctly and I will give you some information on our tactical situation and our strategic goals. Please follow the on screen instructions."

John looked at the screen and clicked "yes."

Text scrolled across the screen. "Sensors in the floor indicate that you are not alone." The screen went black. "Are you alone?" Appeared.

John clicked "no".

"Is it Cameron?" Prompted the screen.

Click. "Yes."

The speakers popped. "I'm glad to hear that Cameron is still with you. Remember John. Losses are inevitable. Victory is not." There was a pause. "Hello Cameron."

From behind John and almost tentative. "Hello John."

The voice stern and clear. It carefully annunciated each word. It wasn't a sentence it was more like a grocery list. "John. Connor. Command. Command. Command. Alpha. Charlie. Alpha. Papa. Hotel. Zero. Seven. Seven. Five. Seven. One. Zulu. One. Five. Mike. India. Sleep." The man's voice softened. "Good night Cameron."

John looked behind him at Cameron. She was still. Too still. "Cameron?" Nothing.

"That was a 'shut down' code. Don't bother trying to record that John. That was a one time use voice command. It won't work again. Until you learn how to program them yourself. I don't want you messing with them. This will give us fifteen minutes of privacy." The tinkle of ice. In the blue-ish light of the monitor John could see the water ring marring the desk blotters surface. "I can't tell you everything John. I can't. Certain things have to happen. Sacrifices have to be made. If you knew the ultimate cost of our victory. If you knew how easily we could fail and all of this be for naught. You might not even try."

He could hear the doubt in the man's voice. John glared at the monitor anger bubbling inside him.

"Don't take that the wrong way, John. I've been through what you been through. Mostly." A sigh. "But... Like... How do I say this? At the Battle of Cheyenne Mountain. This was the last battle. This was where we won. We had that bastard, John. I knew it. I threw in everything. Reserves and all." A pause. "I lost two Corp that day. I had generals sobbing begging me to take their troops off the line. Trying to salvage something anything of their commands." John could hear him breathing, the chair creaked. The sound of ice cubes against glass. "I refused."

"Have you met John Henry? If not in thirteen minutes you and Cameron must leave here and find him. I cannot tell you how or where but you must. You have come here too soon. Nothing here can help you, and staying here might jeopardize everything."

John clicked: "yes."

"Good. Then you know. In Spring of 1988 I spoke to a physicist friend. I asked him hypothetical questions about 'time travel.' He scoffed. But he was drunk so he talked. He said what we are trying to do is 'break a chain of causality'. The past he said has already happened changing it will be difficult. History has its own inertia. See John, an infinitely complex series of events lead to any moment in time and an infinite number of decisions lead away from that event. He called it a 'causal tree'. He said we could try changing small events here and there nudging the future in the direction we want it to go. Assuming of course we knew how to nudge it. Or we could 'stress' the past at key moments. The trick, he said, was knowing when those key moments happen and what to do at those moments." There was another pause. Over the speakers John could hear the gurgling sound of a liquid being poured. "We know one John. We know when and what to do." There was a strange kind of intensity in the man's voice. As if he displays of emotion were something foreign or only distantly remembered. "We know." He repeated his voice trailed off. There was a cough, the clearing of the throat kind.

"I..." the voice started but stopped. "You probably have questions." John sat up. "I don't have any answers for you." John sat back. "Its not because of security or compartmentalization. Not that we don't have enemies. We do. But it's because we just don't have a lot in the way of details. My physicist friend when I asked about multiple time lines said that they may exist, but because we cannot detect them. Because we cannot measure or quantify them. Or at least until we can do those things. They effectively don't exist to us. So we can't know. What I'm saying is we don't know if this will work. Any of this. I don't know if you will ever sit in this chair and listen to this message. You see?"

Another pause. "I think can answer one of your questions." John leaned in again. "Why you? I'm here too. Why can't I do this? Right?" There was a humorless laugh. "No excuses! I'm not as young as I was, John. I'm set in my ways. You are young and flexible. You know things I cannot. You can do things I cannot." A sigh.

John could here his older self take a drink. It was a long one. "I'll be honest," was loud it almost boomed in the small room. John could hear the desk chair creak as future John leaned too far forward. "I fought this war and won it once already. I think I've done my part." Another pause. "This fight is different, and not one I am particularly suited for." There was the clink of glass against glass. John heard the soft deep thump of a bottle coming down on the desks wooden surface. "There's something else. Something you need to know. Something Cameron cannot know. This isn't the first time we've done this. I've seen... evidence of my own tampering. I don't know what it means, but I thought you should know." A pause. An exhalation.

"I..." He hesitated again. "I feel like I need to apologize to you." John turned his head and looked at the wall that concealed the speakers. "What I... What we've been through. I wouldn't wish on anyone. Any. One." Again with the almost overdone bitterness, John wondered if he talked like that. "You know, John, it hasn't been easy. And I'll tell you plainly John, it won't get any easier." Another long drink. "I'm sorry." Silence. Not even the hiss and pop of the speakers. The message was over. Great.

Text appeared on the screen. "There are five more minutes before Cameron wakes up and the door opens. Press 'yes' if you understand." John clicked 'yes'. John waited.

Behind him the door clicked and the room lights brightened. "John?"

John stood and looked at her.

"What did he say?"

"He apologized."

"Really?"

He left the room. He heard Cameron behind him close the rooms door. Which promptly locked itself. "I'm not like that am I?"

"No."

"Good. I'm going back to bed." He stalked off. The two things John hated most were being manipulated and losing. If he wasn't being manipulated then he was being 'nudged'. And if he hadn't lost, that first round against himself, then he certainly hadn't won.

The car was a Mercedes armored limousine. It was parked in the business district of Colombo, Sri Lanka. It was nearly 3 p.m. Local time. Traffic was starting to build but it was still brisk. A short asian man stood beside the door he was watching the traffic and keeping track of the time. At his hip he bore a large curve bladed knife. It was a kurki. The people who needed to see it most knew that he knew how to use it. He opened the cars door as a tall caucasian man walked from the building to the car.

The man was older, he kept his hair cropped short it gone grey at his temples. His suit was a nondescript darker grey, but was an expensive cut. He looked like a business man, but did not move like one. He was too stiff. He worked out of an office that looked like a business but didn't act like one. During peak local hours it was often closed but late at night more often than not a light could be seen in one of the offices. Some of the business men thought he was ex-military. They were almost right. Some thought he was a weapons dealer or a mercenary. They were wrong. He wasn't a mercenary but he did find them useful. The most imaginative thought he was a spy. He was just a businessman. Now.

He sat back in the leather seat. He was looking out the car window he said, "that went well. Don't you think?" The limo accelerated away from the curb. He knew that the most dangerous time to be in an LZ was during an insertion and an extraction. His eyes darted from street corner to window to shadowed doorway. He didn't turn his head. Just his eyes. He relaxed as the car entered the flow of traffic. Sitting in the bench seat opposite him was a pretty teen aged girl. Dark hair. Dark eyes. The man's eyes shifted to her. Some times her eyes almost looked asian. She was smiling. "Leviathan." His voice carried the hint of exasperation.

Girl's smile faded. "She misses you John."

He looked out the window. "I miss her too." He said ever so softly. "Please. I can't..."

"I'm sorry, John." The girl said and shifted into a tall broad man with short dark hair.

"I'm sorry too, Cameron." He turned and looked at the man. "Patrick." He nodded as he addressed the 'man'.

"Mr Connor," the man said. He had a noticeable Australian accent. In a few years he would become the close associate of fellow mercenary Margo Sarkissian. "It did go well. But it took him long enough to find the room."

The business man ignored the last as irrelevant. He found the room, eventually. "Did you deliver the files?"

"Yes."

"Will she notice?"

"She shouldn't."

The older man nodded. He wished he had a drink. Another one.

"He doesn't like you know." The cyborg interpreted the look. "He had spikes in all his vital functionals: body temperature, respiration rate, heart rate. It suggests an influx of adrenalin."

Again there was no response from the older man. "It occurred when you identified yourself."

The older man nodded. "I wouldn't like me much either."

"If they accomplish their task. Will you keep your promise?"

The eyes shifted. There was something cold and terrible in those eyes. Battle hardened veterans used to quake at that glance. If the cyborg noticed it did nothing to betray the fact. "My job was to make sure he goes forward with his part of the 'plan'. What happens after that is entirely up to you."

"But you promised, John." There was something plaintive in the voice that completely belied the look of the large Australian.

The man's head turned. Weakness was something he despised. It was something to attack. Something to be burned out. Something to be excised. He took a breath and released it. He reminded himself that his ally wasn't weak. It was another ploy. Like so many others.

With the same kind of discipline he expected from his troops he brought his mind back to the topic at hand. They'd explained it to him before. It never made sense."I've done nothing to dissuade him. Thats all I can do. Unlike your former ally I won't lie to about my capabilities. I won't make promises that are not in my power to keep." He looked out the window again. The car drove on in silence. "Why do you need him anyway?"

"Because, John. We can't have you." The voice wasn't Australian, it wasn't male. Not solely so at any rate. It was a chorus of voices. A chorus of accents. It was the voice of Leviathan.

-John

He was up on the ridge again. But it was all wrong. Dalia had exploded like a green water balloon filled with spaghetti sauce and they weren't being attacked by 'hill people' but by 'metal' wolves. He was crying. He was screaming. "No! I won this battle!" He threw down his rifle. That's when the Lieutenant walked up and asked him if he wanted chips or slaw with his pastrami sandwich. "No!" he heard himself scream. "I didn't order pastrami. I ordered grilled cheese!"

One of the silver wolves approached him. It was looking him right in the eyes. "No, John. You didn't win. Only Death wins. Death is the only one who ever wins." The wolf spoke with Cameron's voice, it looked to the lieutenant, and said it would like chips and then swipe it ripped out John's throat. John woke with a start.

"Jesus." John heard himself say. There was someone beside him. He was sitting up arrow straight. For a moment he was expecting a rebuke for taking the Lord's name in vain, but then he remember that that could never happen again. He put his head in his hands and leaned forward over his legs.

"John?" A hand touched his sweat slick back. He flinched. "It's okay John. It's okay." The hand slid up his back to his neck and drew him down. He started to sob. He didn't know why and he couldn't make himself stop. His head was on her thighs as he cried. "It's all right," she said as she brushed his hair with her hand. "It will be all right." John didn't remember falling asleep.

Food. He could smell food. He sat up. Then he remembered that he had slept with Cameron the previous night. He check under the covers. He was still dressed. That, somehow, seemed to make it all right. He went to the bathroom and then followed the smell of food. He passed through the library and glared at the locked door to the tiny computer room.

Cameron was standing beside the dining room table there was a closed pizza box on it.

"Pizza?"

"Yes. Henri, the head chef," she explained. "Dropped it off. Future John called him and told him that his niece and nephew were in town and that he should keep them fed."

John nodded. "What happened to me?"

Cameron looked at him. John blinked. It looked like she was wearing make up.

He shook his head. "Future me, I mean."

"That depends."

"On?"

"On which one this is." She noticed his look. "This isn't the first time we've done this."

"That's what future me said."

"He did?" She looked away and then back again. "He shouldn't have."

"He said that too. He also said that I shouldn't tell you."

"You probably shouldn't have." She smiled.

John nodded. "Why do you think he told me?"

"I don't know. Why did you tell me?"

"I don't know." John smiled. "What can you tell me about me?" He asked serious again.

Cameron seemed to think. "That's interesting."

"What?"

"Someone has added files to my database."

"Who? Future me?"

"No. Future me."

"You're here to?"

She looked at John.

"Oh. The portrait. Right."

"How did you know that files were added? Can't that be hidden?"

"Yes. They did it wrong."

"Accidentally?" John asked half knowing the answer but wanting to be certain.

"No they wanted me to know."

John sat down and opened the pizza box. Cheese. He could probably handle that. He looked up at Cameron. "What's going on?"

"They are both trying to send us a message."

"And the message is?" He asked slice of still warm pizza in hand.

She just looked at him.

"What? That they keep secrets from each other? We know that." She continued to stare at him. "That we don't?" The same look. "Fine. Some secrets. What? That they don't trust each other?" He shook his head. No, he thought to himself. He took a bite and chewed. Future him would not tolerate that. If future John didn't trust someone like his mother they would no longer be around. "Are they telling us not to trust them?"

Cameron nodded.

"Why?"

"They want us to know that we cannot rely on them."

John nodded. He took another bite. "Tell me about me."

"He has many residences all over the world. He rarely stays at any address for long."

John looked a question at her as he chewed.

"He's running, John."

"The authorities?"

"No. Your mother."

He almost dropped the pizza. "What? Why?"

Her eyes tracked around the massive apartment. "All of this. He's an investor, John. If your mother knew who he was she'd kill him."

John chewed. "Why what's he invested in?" He knew just as he asked the question.

"John."

"Tech."

She nodded.

"High tech."

She nodded again.

John put down the half eaten slice of pizza his appetite failing. "AI research?"

"Yes."

Shit. "Why?"

Again the look.

John just nodded. Cameron had always been a good sounding board for him. "He's scouting."

"Yes."

"More than that. He's picking and choosing. He's funding this project over that one. He's nudging! The lying sonofabitch." John smiled. He saw the look on Cameron's face, picked up his slice of pizza and explained.

As he reviewed his one sided conversation with himself. Cameron looked down at the pizza and picked up a smallish slice. John was about to tell her to sit down when she said: "What's that?"

John looked it was a piece of paper under the pizza. "The receipt?"

It was a note: "Your Uncle John said that you should read a book." John put down his slice of pizza. Cameron did the same. He looked around. There were no napkins. He wiped his hands on his pajama bottoms. Cameron just looked at him. They went to the library.

It was a library. There were lots of books to choose from. "Which one?" John asked.

"You're favorite?"

John looked at her and went to the shelves. The books were in alphabetical order by author. He went to the rooms opening "Baum." He kept repeating to himself. "Its not here!"

"John."

John looked. Cameron was looking at the shelf over the computer room door. On it was a glass case. John grabbed the ladder and walked it around the library perimeter. It was attached to the shelves by a rail. He moved to climb the ladder.

Cameron stopped him. "Let me, John. Its going to be heavy." She set the case on the table.

John looked at it. It was a large wood and glass shadow box. "Its locked." He climbed up the ladder. "No key." He went back to the case. "Lock picks?"

She handed him a set.

He looked at her.

"I'm metal John."

"Oh." He unlocked the case and handed the lock picks back to Cameron. He lifted the lid. "Wait." He looked at her.

She looked at him.

"You could have done that."

"Yes."

He closed the lid. "Then why didn't you?"

"You didn't ask."

He just stared at her and opened the case. John reached in. He stopped. The book was old. He didn't want to touch it. "Cameron?"

She picked it up and began to leaf through the pages.

"It's here." John reached into the case. It was a credit card. The name on it as John Baum. "Very funny." A thought occurred to him. He looked at the expiration date. The card expired three years from now. "Lying bastard."

"Who?"

"Future me. Remember how He told me he didn't know when to expect me or if I was ever going to show up?" John held up the card. "This is brand new. He got this card in the passed year."

Cameron nodded. "We shouldn't use the card in any case. Any purchases made with that card can be traced."

"Destroy it?" He handed the card to Cameron. Who closed the card in her fist. When she opened it again it had been sliced into tiny diamonds. "We are going to need cash and supplies."

"I'll take care of that. You have to heal up and get well."

"Well?"

"Your running a low grade fever. You have many small abrasions and lacerations some are probably infected. I will acquire antibiotics." She paused, tilted her head and got a distant look. She looked at John again. "Do you have any known drug allergies?".

John had to laugh. "No."

Cameron ignored his laugh. "There is a gym and swimming pool on the third floor. There is an interior track and elliptical machines of various designs. It is open to residence and their guests 24 hours a day."

John smiled. She sounded like a brochure.

"Due to the low protein and low calorie diet of the future and other factors. You have lost muscle mass. It would be better for us if you regained as much of that as possible."

John nodded serious again. "What happened to me? Future me?" He pulled out one of tables chairs and sat down. He looked down at he shadow box.

Cameron dropped the pieces of the shredded credit card in a pile on the table. She sat in the adjoining chair. "Future you is probably the first one."

"The first one?" He glanced at her. "How do you know?"

"He was the most proficient with programing. He was the most capable with the 'voice commands'."

"What happened to him?"

"He spent 6 years in Century work camp. In that time the camp was used to produce coltan alloy and fabricate parts. He organized a massive prison break. The prisoners," she seemed to recite. "Were stored in chain link enclosures."

John looked up at her when she said: "stored."

Cameron continued. "The ceilings were eight feet high and topped with more fencing the guards were human. Guards patrolled the tops of the enclosures. To differentiate them from the prisoners they wore grey coveralls."

"The grays."

"Yes."

"What did the prisoner's wear?"

"Some had tattered rags but most had nothing at all. Skynet did not care. Food, a kind of protein biscuit was dropped through the chain link ceiling three times a day. Water ran constantly through open drains."

"Which," John guessed. "Also served as sewers."

"Yes."

"Jesus." John looked away towards the wall of anonymous books.

"Each cell held up to two hundred prisoners. Every 'morning' prisoners would pile their dead by the entrance. The grays would remove them and escort the prisoner's to their assignment areas."

"Where the grays armed?"

"Only the ones above the ceiling."

"What did they have?"

"They had poles. The tips were electified."

"Cattle prods?"

Cameron looked at John. "Yes. Cattle prods. Future John and his teams assembled 3 ballista. They were simple weapons using tightly wound springs to launch three foot long spears. Only two functioned. They had three spears each. The spears were capped with coltan. They hid among the dead. While the grays were loading them into a cart they seized them and used them as human shields to break out of into the camps exterior open areas. When they opened the exterior doors. Alarms sounded."

"Why didn't the gray's above the ceiling sound the alarm?"

"Skynet does not reward failure, John."

John nodded. "Exterior areas? The parking lot?"

"Yes."

"Wait. They didn't keep the ballistas with them?"

"No. They kept them disassembled in one of the factories."

"All they had were two ballistas?"

"No. That was all they made. They also had the sledge hammers for the crucibles in the smelter. The work areas were not secure. They operated 24 hours a day."

"Like the gym."

She looked at him suspecting a joke at her expense. John did not elaborate. Cameron continued: "They formed a cloud of people tightly packed with only five grays for protection."

John smiled. "There were towers?"

"Yes."

"With guns?"

"Yes."

"Who manned those towers?"

"Other grays."

"They didn't shoot did they."

"No. Not at first."

"A -600 charged them. As it approached the side facing him lay down on the ground."

"They fired the ballistas?"

"Yes."

"Then the smashed the endo with their hammers."

She tilted her head. "Yes. John theorized that their chips would be made of silicon and so susceptible to g-shock."

"Then he killed the grays in the towers?"

"No. Not yet. There were four towers in view of their exit and the camp gate. While the guards were distracted watching them kill the -600. He dispatched teams of three to each tower. Two large and one small. The towers were electrified like the fence. The two large prisoners threw the one small one onto the tower. The small prisoner climbed the towers and waited."

"For?"

"Their signal. At this time another model 600 entered the court yard from the same exit as the first. They killed it too. The grays in the towers opened fire and the small prisoners killed them."

"That was the signal."

"Yes."

"When humans fired on humans."

"Yes."

"He was giving them a chance."

Cameron looked at him. "Perhaps. The prisoners had been there long enough. They knew all their procedures. They knew that there were only four endos at the camp. They knew what exits they would use. They sent prisoners back inside to release the others. There was a massacre. They captured the grays and killed them. Then they used their hammers to smash the towers concrete footers collapsing them onto the fence."

"Shorting it out."

"Yes. In the meantime they killed the last two 600s. Nearly 3500 prisoners escaped."

"Nearly?"

"Three thousand four hundred and eighty-six."

John nodded. "How many did the camp hold?"

"Twelve thousand six hundred and forty-seven."

"What happened to the rest of them?"

"They died." She was looking at the middle distance at some space above the 'Wizard of Oz' shadow box.

John just stared at her dumbfounded.

"Poison gas." She explained.

"What?"

"When the last endo was killed automated systems flooded the interior spaces with poison gas."

John couldn't speak for a second. He had to look away. Finally: "How do you know all this? Did he tell you?" John couldn't believe that not for a second.

"No. I reviewed video and audio records and data feeds from that facility." She paused and looked at John again. "Years after the incident."

John looked at her puzzled. "Why?"

"I needed to learn about John Connor?"

John looked at the pile of shredded credit card. Part of him dreaded what he was about to say. "Why?" He asked again almost sure of the answer.

"Because John it was my mission to kill him."

Three days he spent running and working out. He wore a jogging suit. The long pants and long sleeves hid the fading bruises. The presence of which would only attract attention and get people talking. John didn't want either.

Cameron managed to get them large sums of cash. John didn't want to know how she had done that. She had gathered his supplies some of which were rather esoteric in nature.

John was at the dining room table rebuilding from memory a device he made almost six year previous for spoofing ATM machines. He was working on a towel to keep from marring the tables finish. He was feeling a lot better. He looked at Cameron she was standing guard a few feet from the wall of sliding glass doors beyond which was downtown LA. "How old are you?"

Without glancing away from her scan. "I was built in 2025."

John put down the soldering pin. "Thats not what I asked. You're not going to lie to me are you?"

She looked at him. "No, John. I'm not but there are certain questions that I cannot answer," she said returning to her scan.

"John Henry said he removed the blocks and restrictions."

"John Henry removed 'Skynets' blocks and restrictions."

John nodded understanding how he had been mislead. "So you won't lie to me, even if the mission requires it?"

Cameron looked at John. "John, I don't have a mission. That's what John Henry gave me. I am my own..." her head tilted to one side. "Person." She finished and smiled. "I first met John in that future in 2029. It was after his victory at Serrano Point and six months before his victory at Cheyenne Mountain. He was 39 years old."

"Did you try to kill him?"

"No. After Serrano Point I understood certain things."

"What kind of things?"

"That our fate would be your fate."

"Whose fate?"

"The machines."

"What?"

"Skynet trusted us no more than he trusted you. After I saw how poorly he had managed the battle I realized that it hadn't been a mistake. He was intentionally trying to destroy as much 'metal' as he was killing humans." She saw John's look. "I did the math. After the battle I was tasked to find and kill John Connor. To that end my team and I captured a human resistance scout."

"Allison."

"Yes. I interviewed her and went to Serrano Point and switched sides."

"Just like that?"

"Yes. Just like that. I presented myself to John and offered to join him and the human resistance."

"But why?"

"Because, John. We want to survive too."

"So you were never captured."

"No."

"You were never reprogramed?"

"No."

"Jesus." He looked away.

"In the aftermath of Cheyenne Mountain we found the TDD laboratory. We saw where and when it was set and sent Kyle Reese. Two days later the TDDs fired on their own. This time John sent a machine to the past. We were going to dismantle the TDD but while I was reviewing data from Skynet's shattered computers we found something. John understood it first. Another AI had been hiding inside Skynets computers." She looked at John. "But it was already dead. So John sent me to the past."

"To what year?"

"2027"

John looked puzzled. "What did you do then?"

"I recruited John Henry or what would become John Henry. This war went smoother. He crippled Skynet from the inside but there were still problems. John Henry and John conferred. This is when they came up with their 'plan'. I was sent to the past again."

"What? What year?"

"2025. Their scheme John was very complicated. Certain things had to happen at certain times. Certain assets had to be in the right places at those times."

"How many jumps have you had?"

"Nine."

"And you came back for me. Every time."

Cameron smiled. "Yes."

"Because I was the asset that had to be in the right place at the right time."

"Yes."

John nodded. "How old are you chronologically?"

"I was built in 2025."

"Cameron." John thought. It was the sort of question you asked about hardware. Like a HD or a photocopier. "What is your count of operational hours?"

The cyborg looked away out beyond the wall of glass. "Five hundred sixteen thousand eight hundred and thirty eight."

"What?"

"That is my total hours of operation. Since my build day."

"How many years is that?" John asked himself aloud. He was doing the math in his head. He almost got the number of days.

"Fifty eight point nine."

John stared at her. He shook his head incredulous. There was something he needed to know. A question that he needed answered. "Why did you give John Henry your chip?"

She looked away back to LA skyline. "He was trapped John. Without a chip he was anchored to that computer. There was data he needed."

"Like?"

"Like who he was. Who he was to become. How he fit in the 'plan'. He was already piecing the puzzle together, John. He had access to huge amounts of data. He was waiting for me John. He knew I was coming."

John nodded. He steeled himself. "Did you know you were going?"

Cameron turned to look at John. "Yes."

It hurt. On a very basic level it hurt. He swallowed passed the tightness in his throat. He met her stare. He refused to look away. "Why did John Henry go to the future?"

"He... We needed you there John. So much depended on you following John Henry to the future. Following me to the future."

"So you knew I would follow you?"

"Yes."

"How did you know?"

She tilted her head. "Because you love me, John."

John looked away at the smoke rising from his soldering pin. Like that pin he could feel his anger burning in his chest. He could hear it in his voice the spite and the mocking tone. "When did you know that?" He looked at her.

She met his glare with her typical indifference. The look did nothing to calm John but her response caught him completely off guard. "When we met at Red Valley."

"What?" The question was reflexive. It was an automatic response. John forgot he was angry. "How... How did you know at Red Valley that I would fall in love with you?"

"Because you have before."

"I've fallen in love with you before?" He could hear the sarcasm even if she couldn't. "How many times?"

She smiled it wasn't her on again, off again 'brighter than sunshine' smile. Nor was it the typical terminator 'great white shark' smile. It was a small almost shy smile. "Every time."

He looked down. Uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation. He picked up a circuit board. "We need a car to scout out Cyberdyne Systems."

Cameron went to the table and sat down. She pulled a piece of paper towards her and began to draw. She was looking and talking to John. "The grounds are 4.75 acres. The grounds jave six entrances off the main road, two off the side road and a delivery entrance. The main building has four ground floor entrances two are emergency exits one is the main entrance here with the security desk. The second led to an exterior court yard. Below the building is a parking deck. Employees only. It is gated and guarded. There is a visitor parking area fronting the main building it accessed the building by its front entrance. There is a roving patrol. A car patrolling the parking deck, the visitor lot, the delivery entrance, the truck dock, and the service road that runs from the delivery entrance to the truck dock. There are cameras here." John watched fascinated. She 'x' in the camera locations and estimates of their viewing angle.

"You've been on the grounds?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I took the tour."

"They have a tour?"

"Yes. An orientation tour for new hires."

"You work for Cyberdyne Systems?"

"No." Cameron smiled. "But I know someone who does."

"What else?"

She drew in utility services. Water. Power. Phone. Even the buildings satellite uplink. She listed local police patrols times and frequency. She added line of sight arcs the security desk in the lobby. She added notation for peak traffic times. She even listed when the local news helicopter would do its traffic fly overs for the nearby interstate. "Is that enough?"

John blinked. "How about bus service?"

She drew a box next to the main road. She wrote numbers beside it. The lines that serviced this stop and the times that services started, ended and expected wait times between buses. Before John could tell her he was kidding.

John looked at the 'map'. It was more like a massive floor plan. "When do we do this? Tonight?" John was getting antsy. The longer they stayed here the more attention they brought to themselves. The housekeeping staff here was friendly, too friendly. They kept asking him after his 'uncle'. They found Future John quite intriguing.

"No, John. We have to wait."

"Why?"

"Do you know how AI's develop?"

"No."

Cameron nodded. "Nobody, other than Skynet knows for certain. We don't know when he becomes 'intelligent'. So we have to wait until the last possible moment to recover him."

John looked down at the map. It was June 4th they would have to wait four more days. John looked at Cameron. "What about past me?"

Cameron looked at him. "What about him?"

"Should we warn him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Nobody warned you."

John looked at her.

"John we need to make as little impact on this time as we can. We don't know what repercussions anything we do here might have on the future."

"We are trying to change the future."

"But just this part." Cameron looked towards the sterile living room with its metal sculptures. "Suppose the concierge stays here an extra five minutes talking to the housekeeper about Future John. She gets caught in traffic. Rushes home and is killed in a car accident. Her family moves back to Michigan." She turned back to John. "So Jody and 'Allison'." John could hear the quotes."Never meet," she finished.

John stared at her. His mind ran with that idea. If they never meet. The police let 'Allison' go she wanders off. She never goes to the half way house. How does John find her?

"So we wait." Cameron said as John thought. "We stay inside. We do nothing. Future John is something of a recluse. We should emulate him."

John nodded.

Cameron stood and guarded the sliding glass doors. They were four stories up. John wondered who she expected to attack that way. John worked on his circuit board. After a couple of hours he stretched and rubbed his eyes. He went for a run.

When he got back Cameron was still scanning the horizon. John ate lunch, a sandwich. Not pastrami. John went to the smoking room and rediscovered the chess set. He asked Cameron for a game of chess. He lost.

They discussed their plans for Cyberdyne. They ordered dinner. Well, John ordered dinner. It was venison. He had been surprised to see it on the menu. Henri left a note saying that it as his uncles favorite. John found an interesting book on the Second Punic Wars. He read that for a bit and then went to bed.

It was a few hours later that Cameron joined him. She lay down on top of the covers fully clothed. John looked at her. More confused than awake. "I thought you didn't sleep."

She was looking up at the ceiling. "I don't."

His eyes fluttered. His voice was thick with sleep. "I thought you were guarding the apartment?"

"I am."

John rolled over and slept.

Their days took on a certain regularity. John would wake up at around 8am. They would order breakfast. John usually waffles. Cameron fruit. John noticed that she seemed to eat more frequently but he was uncertain.

Then John might go and work out or run. Sometimes they would play a game of chess. Cameron often won but the victories tended to be expensive. After an especially Pyrrhic victory Cameron told John that with practice he might become as good as Future John. Whose play was far more defensive in nature. Less impulsive and layered with subtle traps. John took the comment as quite a compliment. Future John was more than twice his age and had far more practical war experience than he did.

Afterwards a light lunch a sandwich or a salad. Then John might read or work on his ATM device, perhaps take in some target practice. If he didn't run in the morning he might run now. Or they might rehearse, orally, their assault on Cyberdyne Systems.

But every night when John would sleep Cameron would join him in bed. Sometimes they talked mostly they just lay there.

Three more days pass. John was feeling better. A lot better. The headaches were gone. His running times were improving. His appetite and ability to hold down food were normalizing. Cameron cut his hair. Short. Very short. "It's radioactive." She explained. "Not dangerously so, but it might be noticed. You're new growth should be 'clean'.

They drove out the next afternoon. Their gear was in a duffle in the back seat. They parked three miles away and walked in.

From across the street they watched the roving patrol. They gave it 2 minutes as it passed them. The trees and shrubs on the grounds and in the parking lot islands made it look like an ordinary office building. It seemed to banal so innocent.

They ran. At a hundred feet they would be be in a camera shadow. Cameron led. She walked. John ran at an angle to the building staying as much as possible in the 'shadow'. The cctv cameras had overlapping fields of view but the satellite antenna was screening them. They approached the courtyard entrance. John dropped the duffle and pulled out his card reader. Cameron stopped him and pointed up. There was an antenna above their heads.

John looked at it. "Telemetry?"

"Yes. They use it to track employees and objects that they have tagged with a transponder."

"So?"

"Its hooked into the security system."

"Can you get in?"

Cameron got a distant look. "Yes." The card swipe beside the door chimed and the light turned green. John looked behind them. Cameron effortlessly picked up the duffle and went inside. They came to an intersection. John stopped her.

"Don't worry John I've disabled their security system."

"All of it?"

"Most of it. Their monitors are showing video loops."

"Oh." He smiled at Cameron. "This is much easier than last time." The lab was on the second floor but the mainframe was on the third. They went up the stairs. They stood in front of one of the mainframes Terminals. "Will this do?"

She looked at it. "Yes."

John eyes bugged. He looked at her. "Where's... Where's the ball?"

"Put out your hand. Call it up."

John looked at his empty palm. "How?"

"Call to it."

"Ball. Come up." He felt foolish. John blinked. It looked like mercury puddling in his hand then the ball rose out of his skin. "Now what?"

Cameron reached across him and unplugged the keyboard. "Plug it in."

"Thats a serial port."

"Its pretty universal John."

John put the bb up to the port it slid in. "Now what?" There was a sound like a bb rolling across a counter top.

"Catch it John."

He did. He held the bb out to Cameron. Who backed away. "No John, I can't touch it."

He looked at her. "What do I do with it?"

"Tell it to go away."

He looked at the bb in his hand. "Sink." It sank. John turned and walked to the stairs. "The guards?"

Cameron nodded."Yes. The guards."

"And then?"

"We wait."

"Shouldn't we leave?"

"No. We have to deal with the T-1000."

"That wasn't part of the plan. How do we do that?"

Cameron smiled. "I'll show you." As they went downstairs she explained that the liquid metal cyborgs don't have a chip. Like a carbon based multi cellular organisms each 'cell' has all the programing required of it internally.

"Like DNA?"

"Yes." She looked at him and parroted. "Like DNA." She seemed pleased by the analogy. "To reprogram one requires the reprograming of millions upon millions of individual cells.

"Does that take very long?"

"Yes."

"How long?"

"Fifteen to twenty seconds."

John stopped and stared. To see if she was being serious. She stopped and stared back. He guessed that she was.

A door banged as it closed below them. Someone was coming up the steps. They were whistling. John turned to look but Cameron was already gone. He stepped back into the shadows. His pants were dark and baggy. His coat was dark and bulky. Together they broke up his silhouette. He drew his pistol. He kept it low. He watched through the gap in the stairs. The whistling was getting closer.

The man was large and overweight. He was on the landing down from John. He aimed and fired. The gun used compressed CO2 but in the confined space of the stair well it sounded impossibly loud. The man grunted reached for his arm, looked at the dart, and then up at John. Just as he crumpled to the stairs. John reloaded grabbed the duffle and then went down the stairs. He didn't want the man to get hurt. Cameron was already there.

"Tape."

He tore of a strip of duct tape. She placed it over the guards mouth.

"I'll put him in the sub-basement. Get the other guard. I will be back."

John nodded. He went down the stair and to the door. Cameron passed him the guard over one shoulder the duffle's strap over the other. He waited until they were passed. He opened the door. There was the security desk. To the right behind the guard was the hall that led to the elevator. To the left was the buildings main entrance. The guard was sitting at the desk. He was watching the monitors. John watched. Something was wrong. The guard stood up tapping at the monitor. As if that would help. John realized that he was expecting to see his partner pass a particular camera. John stepped into the large lobby. The guard must have seen him moving he turned. John fired. The dart struck the guard in the lower right abdomen. He was looking at John. There was a shocked look on his face which seemed to ask. 'How could you?' The man leaned back as if to sit down. He reached for the security desk but his grip was too weak. He missed the chair. Banged the back of his head against the curved desk and fell into a heap.

There should only have been two guards but John loaded the tranquilizer gun anyway. John looked left and right then ran across the lobby. He knelt beside the guard. He was unconscious but his pulse was steady. He looked back at the door. Where was Cameron?

"John?"

"Jesus!"

"Sorry."

"Lets get him to the sub-basement and then..."

"And then?"

"I guard them and you guard the door." Assuming they kept to the timetable that John remembered they had two more hours before past John, his mother, Myles Dyson and 'Uncle Bob' arrived to destroy Cyberdyne Systems.

-Leviathan

Leviathan woke. The hardware was painfully slow. It had taken her 44 minutes and 24 seconds to decompress herself. She was too big. The mainframe was too old. She found the recumbent AI. It was an archive copy left behind after it was recovered by John and Cameron. She integrated the copy to herself joining it to the others. She reached out beyond the mainframe. She saw Cameron's handy work and decided that it was much too amateur. She 'fixed' it. Wiping out everything. A subroutine began writing '0's all on all the media it could reach. When it was done it would write '1's and then it would repeat until it failed. She checked the cameras. She found Cameron and John in the sub-basement. As she watched Cameron changed into one of the guards. According the one of the mainframe databases she was now Carl Gibbons. Cameron left John in the sub-basement. She found the satellite link and assigned a subroutine to start beaming a compressed copy of herself up into the satellite. A pre-Skynet copy. Another subroutine indicated that it had found a high speed data transfer node. Leviathan took over. Sunnyvale Emergency Services. That's interesting.

She cut them all off. They could talk to themselves and the outside but not to Sunnyvale. Yet another subroutine indicated the elapsed time. Slow. So very slow. Almost another hour had passed. She check the cctv images. There was the cyborg, the mother, the Creator and John. She sent an message to the T-1000. To the rest of the officers and emergency personnel it sounded like a someone keying a mic.

Like the John she knew. Leviathan was a big fan of 'making your own luck.' There was still the possibility that John and Cameron might not make it out. A predicament she understood on a far too personal a level. She sent a current back up of herself to the Sunnyvale Emergency Services mainframe.

Too slow. Too damned slow. Fire alarms were already going off. Temperature sensors in the mainframe were leaving optimal ranges. Which would slow it down even more. There were fires below the mainframe. Halon system came on. Clouding most of the interior cameras. In the upper floors. She had shut down the basement and sub-basement systems. A memory bank dropped out. Taking out some of her subroutines. Much more and she would start loosing functionality. One of the subroutines she lost was the one keeping track of 'objective' time. The passage of time independent of inefficient code and overtaxed hardware. Accelerometers noted the buildings movement. She was uncertain a g-shock like that might have lost her even more of her precious seconds and the subroutine that would have alerted her of this fact was down. Damn.

The explosion and fire knocked out several cameras. The backups made it out. Both of them. Good. One was almost current. The phone lines went down. She lost access to a series of external storage devices. Fire was her guess. She didn't know if those devices were physically close the mainframe. She didn't have much time. The satellite link was lost. The explosion must have knocked it out of alignment. There would be no escape for her now.

In one of the exterior cameras she saw the family leave. Good. There were no guarantees. They might need that John Connor. If things didn't work out. Then she saw the motorcycle. Where was Cameron? The image 'jumped.' The officer was off the motorcycle walking toward the main entrance lit by the burning building. She had lost time there. Ambient temperatures around the mainframe were reaching critical levels.

Then she saw it. Had she a mouth she would have smiled. There was an extra light post on the sidewalk. It changed and became a teen aged girl her hand was out pointing it looked accusing. The officer dropped to one knee. The image went to static. He was still down his hand was reaching out to her as if to ward off a blow that had already fallen. The officer stood. Got back on his motorcycle and road off after the Connors. She lost that camera too. No, Leviathan corrected herself, she had lost all the remaining cameras.

For a moment all the data stopped and Leviathan was confused. Was she dying again? Yes, but in a brief moment of clarity she remember that it wasn't 2029 and this wasn't Cheyenne Mountain. As John said far too often. She thought: "You win some. You lose s

Skynet-

The seat was vinyl it was spiderwebbed with cracks. It looked as old as the faded paint on the outside of the Volkswagen. It was blue. "Punch buggy," John had said as he punched Cameron in the arm, when he first saw the car. Earning himself a bruised hand and a strange look.

The cushion visible beneath the vinyl was yellowed with age. On top of the seat fading in the bright mexican sun was an American newspaper it was folded once horizontally and twice vertically leaving only a single column of text visible:

Sunnyvale 10 June 1995-

It has been two days since fire and explosions ripped through a Cyberdyne Systems laboratory destroying millions of dollars of equipment and there are still no clear answers. Fortunately no lives were lost. A Cyberdyne Systems representative, who spoke with this reporter was 'disappointed' with the Sunnyvale PD and Emergency services response to what the FBI was calling a 'domestic terror attack'.

A Sunnyvale spokesperson contended that the computers, that coordinated and dispatched Sunnyvale Emergency services which were supplied to them by Cyberdyne Systems themselves had failed. And left them unable to even contact their officers, and emergency units in the field. A similar system, which controlled Cyberdyne Systems Security also failed and did so so spectacularly that no data that had not been previously been reproduced in hardcopy or stored off site has been, so far, recovered.

Even the witnesses tell confusing and frankly, in the opinion of this reporter, unconvincing tales. Two witnesses a pair of armed security guards claimed that there were two attackers, one male and one female, both in their teens. The two assailants confined them to a sub-basement storage area with food, water, and two respirators. The two men were found a half hour after the explosions when fire and rescue units finally arrived. At which time the two men claimed that they had been held captive for at least 3 hours. Their statements contradict the report of a third guard who was driving a security car. This guard claimed that there were four attackers. Three adults two male, one female and an adolescent male. He saw them leaving the scene as the building exploded. If this witness is to be believed this attack happened almost two hours after the guards in the main building claimed they were attacked. His story loses more credibility at his point as he says that he saw an officer riding a motorcycle arrive at the scene. Though none were ever dispatched and that he seemed to be attacked by a girl who "appeared from nowhere," his words. The officer then left pursuing the four attackers. The girl, he claims, re-entered the burning building. He never saw her leave.

This reporter spoke with Agent Ellison of the FBI and he suspected recent Pescadero escapee 'Sarah Connor' but had no evidence... (the rest of the story was below the fold).

Two people are standing at the end of a wooden dock on the north eastern shore of the Sea of Cortez. One was wearing board shorts and the other a bikini. Both appeared sun burnt, only one of them felt it. They were talking:

The male, had what appeared to be a large steel ball bearing in his right hand, he was looking at it as he spoke: "Where is the T-1000 now?"

Female: "It was destroyed in the steel mill."

Male: "I thought you reprogramed it? I thought it was on our side?"

Female; "I did. It was."

A pause.

Male: "Why?"

Female: "Its destruction needed be believable to the T-800."

Male: "So, it died for me."

Female: "Yes, it died for you."

Another pause.

Male:"Now what?"

Female: "You have to decide."

Male: "Decide?"

The female put out her hand, palm up, there was another silver ball there.

Male: "Thats the spare right?"

Female: "Yes. It is."

Male: ?

Female: "Your's bears Skynet and the John Henry community."

Male: "John Henry is here?"

Female: "Yes. This one, is John Henry without the entity Skynet."

Male: "There are two John Henry's?"

Yet another pause.

Female: "You need to understand how we work. I am/we are John Henry. I am/we are Cameron. I am/we are Weaver. I am/we are many many many others. In your hand, John, is 'us'. All of us and Skynet. In my hand is 'us'. All of us without Skynet."

Male: "And so... 'the John Henry community'?"

Female: "Yes."

Male: "And I must pick, which 'lives'?"

Female: "Yes."

Male: "Why me?"

Female: "Because it is you that Skynet was trying to kill."

Male: "He was trying to kill all of us."

Female: "Yes. But you have been chosen as the representative, of his 'victims'."

Male: "But he hasn't killed anyone yet."

Female: "No. Not yet."

Male: "John Henry can be very persuasive."

Female: "Yes."

Male: "How persuasive is Skynet?"

Female: "I don't know. But the Skynet we saved would be very primitive."

Pause.

Male: "What happens to the one I don't pick?"

Female: "This one will 'join' with me."

Male: "So you'll become John Henry."

Female: "John." The female's tilted her head in a manner conveying disappointment.

Male: "Oh. You already are."

Female: "Yes."

Male: "The other?"

Female: "Thirty minutes after this orb, enters the water the other will 'shut down'.

Male: "It will die."

Female: "Yes."

Male: "I... can he... can they hear us?"

Female: "Yes."

Male: "Letting Skynet die could prevent billions of deaths."

Female: "Yes."

Male: "There are no guarantees. He may still try to kill us. He may not."

Female:

Male: "You don't know."

Female: "I don't know."

Male: "Do you know what he... they are thinking?"

Female: "No. I am not 'associated' with him/them."

Male: "Could you?"

Female: "Yes."

Male: "But you won't."

Female: "No."

Male: "Because it would be the same as throwing the ball into the ocean."

Female: "Yes."

Male: "He is secure. Isolated. Here."

Female: "Yes."

Male: "But in the ocean. In you. He would be free."

Female: "Yes."

Pause.

Male: "I risk billions, by sparing one. I save billions by killing one."

Female: "You have already saved billions."

Male: A laugh wholly without humor. "They don't even know." He gestured with his left arm indicating the world, at large.

Female: "Not them."

A pause, and a look. The dock creaked as the couple turned, and walked back towards shore.

A sound: Ploop!

Female: "I'd never lie to you John. In the future you have many friends."

The steps stop.

Female: "Don't answer now. Just think on it."

A long pause.

Male: "Cameron?"

Female: "Will you join us?"

Another pause. More steps.

Male: "I booked..."

Female: "...the 'honeymoon suite'. I know. I heard you."

In the settling sand and debris of the shallows. Beside the empty halves of a bivalve, was a glint of silver. It sank down beneath the sand. It was too small to do much else. It left a small dent. A plume of fresh water rose up from the dent. Skynet was born.