Highway to North Bend
It's the highway of yesteryear and today - a mish-mash of modern technology and "retro" touches from as long as a century ago (which would be about the 1950s, at this point). Holo-billboards advertise the latest VR simulations, smart-gear, but also old-style cleaning agents and long-ago-outlawed unhealthy foods. Just down an offramp is a full-service station with what looks like actual gasoline pumps, and a sign that shows a smiling Caucasian white-uniformed man with a cap offering to "fill 'er up!" in the caption, while a sign advertises Cola for 5 cents. The highway is deserted of any real traffic to speak of, and a faint glow can be seen from the lights of North Bend, in the distance.

An unearthly noise - something between a shriek and a whinny - echoes across the sky, even though it's an open plain with not much in the way of anything for sound to echo off of. A V-formation of winged, dark shadows flies in from the darkening sky of the east. Then, there's a burst of what appears to be flame from the lead creature, as the smaller shadows spread out.

The aircar and the police spinner-bike have come to a halt over the highway, within ground-effect level (normally unnecessary for such flight-capable vehicles, but a cautious medium to take when one isn't certain whether or not one's vehicle might suddenly stop working without warning). Clouds of dust and debris slowly settle.

"Oh hell, those do not sound friendly either friendly," Jason says as he slides a bit further down in his chair. As he continues to fidget nervously he looks between the dragon wrapped up in his jacket and the shapes on the horizon. It's about then it hits him ... if this RIU is a simulation of the original ... maybe it has some knowledge of things in this world. "Uhm, RIU, do you know what those are?" he thinks.

"That way!" shouts Randall, braking as he notices what Miss Trudeau and Jason were telling him - both that the background goes distressingly low-res and that there are oncoming flying shadows. He points to the offramp. "Let's get under cover and hope they didn't see us."

Randall guns the jet engines on the skimmer and takes off, jumping the police spinner bike over the side of the highway to get under cover faster.

The gas station is a prime example of the so-called "low-res" effect: It looks almost exactly like another gas station they passed a while ago - just with some of the colors swapped around, a different billboard nearby, a different retro-styled ground-truck parked to the side, etc. Its lights are on, with a neon sign reading, "Stop-N-Go," though a CLOSED sign hangs in the door. (In a quaint touch, it looks like the sign is actually hanging from a hook by screen, though it's evidently a "smart-sign" with animated lettering.

"Hold on," Holly tells Jason, flashing a disturbing grin as she follows the bike on manual controls.

The aircar and spinner bike make it under the jutting cover of the fueling station. Although the pumps are patterned to resemble old-style gas pumps, they appear to actually be modern fueling units - with chem-cell refueling units and power chargers. Although it offers some technical cover from the sky, it's not clear that this slight change in position has helped the group to avoid the attention of the shrieking fliers.

"Do we power down?" Holly calls to Cranston, "or keep things running for making a quick escape?"

"Shouldn't you know? This is your world," Jason snaps at Holly. "Me, I would vote for being ready to flee at a moment's notice."

Randall looks up skyward. "That's a lot of them. And from the flame I saw, that was either a missile launch trail or... Stay powered up, but I have an idea." He leaves his spinner bike running but jumps off and runs to the door, banging on it. "Police! I need to use your phone!"

Inside, most of the lights are out. There are only a few lights here and there, just enough to see that it's empty, pretty much, plus a few blinking displays that haven't been turned off for the night. There appears to be an early-century camera security system.

"I don't know what this is yet, but I want to try something since we're here," the woman says, and sets the car down on its parking struts without shutting off the engine. She shakes her head at Randall, then exits the car. "We know our vehicles are real, since they weren't shown in the police video feed," she explains to Jason. "I'm going to try and use a pump to refuel the car. If it works, I'll have a better notion of where we are."

Despite the antiquated style of the "pumps," there are modern credit stations, with thumbprint ID verification pads. It looks like the rechargers and chem pumps are self-service after hours.

After looking inside to verify there's no one at home, and catching sight of the camera security system, Randall unlimbers his gun, thumbs the trigger-lock, and shoots the door open. "If I can get the local police here, maybe we can get some reinforcements," he shouts to Miss Trudeau as she appears to be... Recharging her car?

Trudeau inputs her ID codes to activate the fuel station, and selects a chemical feed. "Keep an eye on the power gauge and tell me if it moves," she asks Jason.

The antiquated lock is easily opened by Officer Cranston's use of applied force. The door is open, and a squealing alarm goes off inside.

"Refuel my fanny, we should rig those pumps to explode and use it to distract the creatures ... or something," Jason calls out after Holly. And when Randall shoots opent eh door ... he just covers his face and mutters, "Have a security expert along and what do you do? Shoot open a door."

The chemical feed has a hose and old-style nozzle and handle, but the feed looks to be compatible with the aircar. From the rumbling of the pump, it's operational.

"Damn.. we don't have much time now!" Holly notes after the pumping starts. "We need to move to where we can watch this place without being seen now."

Stepping inside, Officer Cranston flips open his badge and shows it to the camera, while looking for the phone. "This is a code 10-78, we're under attack by aerial units! Request backup immediately!" he calls.

Inside the aircar, the panel lights up, indicating that fueling is in process, and a pinging alarm sounds, as an automated voice suggests, "For safety, please power down vehicle while refueling." (It would be unsafe to design an aircar to AUTOMATICALLY power down when fueling is detected. That'd be asking for trouble.) An indicator in the aircar shows 100% fuel purity. Ms. Trudeau has never seen fuel register pure 100% purity before.

Holly stops pumping and uncouples the feed, then checks to see how much was actually charged against her account.

Nearby, Officer Cranston finds a phone - rotary dial, but with a thumbpad ID verification for payment.

The indicator shows a couple of pennies per gallon cheaper than what she'd paid last week for a fuel-up. Not bad.

"They're all crazy. Crankston's gone all luddite and Holly is off on a fueling toot," Jason further mutters. "It's fueling with 100% pure fuel. Looks fine, I guess ... though fueling while flying is a bit dangerous," he yells towards Holly. But, not to be caught with his pants down, as it were, he grabs his pack. Now it's his turn to slip out of the door and he marches towards it. "I wonder if you can be set to overload ... and if that would make a nice big boom..." he mutters.

Getting back into the car, Holly smiles reassuringly to Jason, and says, "We're in a lot of trouble, kid."

"This is 911. Your identity shows as Officer Randall Cranston, location ... error. Is this correct? What is your emergency?" comes the voice over the phone.

A loud shriek pierces the sky, echoed by several others. That's definitely louder.

"Remember what I said about watching this place from someplace else?" Holly says to Jason. "I'm thinking now might be a good time to try that."

Randall frowns. Did he reach the real world 911, or is this a service in the virtual world that they seem to have been trapped in? One way to find out - "I realize this is an odd request, operator, but I need to know the year. It's an emergency!"

"The current year is 2059. Please note that frivolous use of 911 is a violation of..." The remaining is drowned out by another shriek. Yes, it's definitely getting closer.

"Zork. Thank you for your help, operator. Gotta go now!" Randall hangs up and runs for the spinner bike.

A large, shadowy form, limned by flickering flames, alights upon the highway. It looks for all the world like a horse, with hide of purest black, but with an obsidian sheen that reflects the unnaturally crimson red of the flames emitting from where its mane, fetlocks and tail should be. Its eyes glow similarly red, and sparks fly as it gouges pavement with its hooves and folds in its huge, bat-like wings. Several, less distinct shadowy forms drop down as well, but still flap their wings, hovering in place. They look semi-insubstantial, as if they were gargoyles made from a shadowy mist-like substance.

Randall hops back onto his bike and runs the engine back up, getting ready to get away. Out of some vague hope that these entities will recognize his authority, he switches on the megaphone and uses it to broadcast at the creatures, "This is the police! We mean you no harm, stand down and we can settle this peacefully."

Jason is thankfully oblivious to the monster that just landed. He's instead working frantically to the innards of the fuel pump. "Thank you for liking to look old; you reproduced all the old flaws nicely," he mutters as he works. RIU, for its part, is back on his shoulders, having been instructed to watch for any incoming death while he works. After a few more seconds he mutters, "Bah, my kingdom for a radio controlled switch. I just hope I calculated the discharge right on these capacitors; been a like since LRC circuits course." When the ominous red emergency light starts flashing wildly, he snatches his pack and runs back towards the car with RIU hanging on his shoulder for dear life. "Time to get out of here!" he yells and waves his arm. We really don't want to stay around. This means you too, Crangston! RUUUUUUUN!"

"Jason, really.. GET IN THE CAR!" Holly yells, and starts spinning up the fans for liftoff.

"What did you do?!" yells Randall, but takes Jason's advice to heart, punching the lift lever.

The flaming horse rears back, beating its wings and pawing at the air with flaming hooves ... and then brings the hooves slamming back down, letting out gouts of flame and a shower of debris. It lets out another one of its shrieks, and charges forward, galloping, with its wings swept behind it, at surprising speed. The shadow-creatures to each side of it let out squealing shrieks and charge after it, evenly divided on each side of it - their exact numbers hard to pick out in the increasingly poor light.

Jason is running flat out, hair whipping around wildly. "Go go go!" he yells at Holly then takes a diving leap and lands face-first in the seat of the hovercar. His legs wave wildly as he tries to scramble and get them in too!

"Oohkayyy," says Randall over the radio. "I don't think they're going to stand down. Head back for the mall!" He suits his words to his actions, lifting the spinner up and tilting the jet engines forward.

Trudeau doesn't wait for Jason to sit and strap in, so his face gets pressed into the back of the seat as she opens the throttle and shoots the car forward. At least he'll now know what his lower back smells like.

As the aircar and spinner-bike shoot out, the galloping, flaming horse and its crowd of shadow-beasts fly in, in hot pursuit, making a straight line for them, and passing over and around the station -

- right as the chemical pump explodes in a bright flash of light, blossoming out in a bluish explosion, quickly joined by the others, as shock-waves ripple out and buffet the fleeing vehicles.

Randall grits his teeth, clinging to the controls and the bike, trying to keep it stable.

Jason, with his face still buried in the seat, raises one of his arms in a victory salute! Right before he finally rights himself, looking winded and completely disheveled

Both vehicles take sharp dives, and the spinner-bike nearly goes into somersaults - but their respective drivers manage to keep them surprisingly well under control. Behind them, several demonic-looking silhouettes shriek out, elongate, and vanish out of existence ... but with a furious shriek-whinny, the flaming horse comes through the fire unscathed.

Holly grits her teeth as she gets the car level again. "Jason, don't do that again!" she snaps. "I'm pretty sure I'm outside the American Automotive and Aircar Association's service range if we crash!"

Randall catches his breath, having just managed to right his bike - was that the ground over his head back there? He glances back and says with surprising calmness to the radio, "Jason, did you happen to have something to do with a certain low-resolution simulated gas station exploding right under those whatever-they-are?"

"I might have! I'm not about to be devoured by some low budget monster in a game, thank you," Jason snaps in the radio. "You do have to figure if this is part of the Avatar's game, they expect you to fight for experience and all that. I doubt many boogie boogies are going to sit down and negotiate!"

"This is not the game world," Holly insists. "It's... more complicated, I think! And that blast may have taken out Nidhogg-class minions, but I think that horse is maybe a Loki-class NPC. Let's head back to the arcade, there weren't any monsters there!"

"So we've gotten caught up in some game world... Avatars?" Randall continues speeding along, arcing around to try and alter course for the outlet mall. He glances back now and then to see if the horse is gaining on them.

Jason's mind is whirling as he peers over the back of the seat at the monster. "No! Find a lake or pond! If it's on fire, it ought to be vulnerable to water, right? So, if we dive the car into a pond and make a really big splash..." he says frantically.

"This isn't a boat or a submarine!" Holly notes. "You want to jump into a swimming pool if we pass one?"

RIU suddenly perks up in the aircar, perching on Jason's back, as its little whiskers twitch and wave, and it looks out of the canopy - but not back at the scene they've just left.

"We don't need to go under the water ... just *bounce* on it. Make a wave! I (think* there is a pond to our left about half a mile. And ... uh, er, folks?" Jason says as he perks up too. "We have more things coming this way. They *might* be on our side. Or at least more like us and this little dragon. Which I hope means on our side!"

"Take the lead," responds Randall's voice over the radio. He falls in behind the aircar and sets his bike autopilot to follow, to free his hands up.

The flaming horse beats its wings, leaping up into the air, and going airborne once more in its pursuit of the vehicles. It banks sharply, maintaining an intercept course even as the vehicles turn toward their new destination. The flames burn brighter, as it starts to resemble a comet, shooting after the vehicles more quickly than any winged creature has a right to.

"I really hope this works," Jason whispers to the little dragon. "I wish I hadn't sold my super-soaker canon last year."

Dividing her attention between the windscreen and the rearview monitor, Holly tries to judge how long it will take for the flaming pursuer to catch them. "This will be tricky," she notes, as the pond approaches.

As Jason looks out of the canopy, somehow, his eyes are drawn to what has caught his little dragon's attention, and he just knows, quite as much as he can see. Points of light appear - orange, green, amber, and blue - and they converge upon the scene.

Having freed up his hands, Randall rummages in one of the side compartments. A shred of paper flies free - the mileage report. "Aha!" He pulls out a small fire extinguisher and slams the cover shut again, before readying the fire extinguisher for service. "I've got your back, Miss, let's do it."

"Just remember our lives depend on it! No pressure or anything!" Jason reminds Holly. "We'll need to catch it on a bank of the car, as water tends to splash out from the side ... " That sentence trails off and he points out of the car towards the lights. "Incoming help! So, even if we don't get it exactly right, uh, we might delay it long enough for them to get here."

It looks like it will be a close call. Unless Ms. Trudeau intends to do a kamikaze stunt, slamming into the pool at full speed without slowing down first or otherwise adjusting course, the creature is likely to be upon them right around or just before they get there.

The creature, meanwhile, makes galloping motions and wingbeats, even though it by all appearances is propelled by something more akin to a jet engine or rocket, judging from its comet trail and its speed.

Holly eyes the rearview, and slows down the car so that the comet will hopefully be right on their tail when they're over the pond. "I'm going to be doing some really hard banking here guys. Without the automatics, I could stall, so be prepared to get wet."

Thinking of something, Jason says, "RIU! Water will hurt you, won't it? Just in case ... maybe you should go to the help heading this way. No reason for you to get munched ... or shorted out!"

In a flurry, Jason actually shoves RIU out of the canopy. "Well, one out of two gambirs isn't so bad, I guess," he whimpers and sinks down in his seat again as he sees the water loom.

"Bank right!" Randall yells. He unleashes the fire extinguisher right into the face as it gets close enough that most of the spray should cover it.

All at once, Holly hits the emergency power switch, reverses thrust to bring the car to a near stop, and banks right to slew it around in a tight circle to try and bring up a curtain of water with the fans. And, as predicted, this brings on a stall.

The flaming steed lets out a furious shriek-whinny, as it gets a face full of expanding, flame-retardant foam! Whatever expression it has is quickly covered up, however, by the expanding mess - and it hurtles, out of control!

Multi-colored points of light streak toward the scene. Below is a large retention pond. Ms. Trudeau's car skids out magnificently, though the spray doesn't quite go in the direction intended. In fact, it comes ever-so-close to nose-diving into the drink entirely, but instead merely skips across the water like a rather large polished stone. Officer Cranston's bike, meanwhile, is still unfortunately set on autopilot ... but he notices the resulting problem in the nick of time, and manages to skip his spinner-bike over the aircar.

With a split second before he would have smacked into the rear of the stalled car, the young police officer glances forward, lets out a "Great Zork!" and gets one hand back forward to hit the lift lever, skipping his spinner bike into the air over the aircar.

The foam-covered, blinded, and partially extinguished, smoking demonic steed, meanwhile, skips over the aircar, under the spinner-bike ... but nonetheless skids into the water and comes to a rolling crash at the side of the pond.

Once the car stops moving, Holly turns to Jason and says, "You're the one who's going to have to get out and push, you know."

"Oh sure, blame the only person who came up with a plan," Jason gumbles, "I didn't see YOU offering any ideas on stopping YOUR demon."

The aircar's fans spit out water. Fortunately, it's a sports model, and hence isn't harmed by the contact.

"It's not my demon!" Holly says in exasperation. "I never even wanted a pony as a little girl!"

"Yeeeeehaw!" yells Randall, not into the radio, but quite audible nevertheless.. He applies brakes with one hand and steers back to the dropped aircar, stowing the cannister under his arm with the other. "Are you all right over there? Need a pickup?"

"Your company's demon, then!" Jason corrects as he peers out the window. "So, uh, is it dead?"

Smoking, foam-spattered hooves kick up into the air, and wings batter about. Despite the rather undignified state it's in, it still has the bearing of a wild, dangerous, and thoroughly unpredictable creature. It makes more horrible noises, indicating that it is still quite alive (at least for the moment, for all one can tell), but at least not the most immediate of threats.

Trudeau doesn't answer immediately, as she has to open a panel in the dashboard and flip various circuit breakers to get the car back on line. "At least the airbags didn't pop," she grumbles.

"Besides, I could fix the car later. It's just a big bag of electronics, you know," Jason points out. "Need any help?"

Streaking lines of light shoot overhead, too fast to make out ... but Jason gets a sort of double-vision effect, as if he could simultaneously see them from somewhere in the sky just above the pond: a white lion with a flaming orange mane and feathered wings, a winged unicorn trailing ethereal glowing flowers in its wake, a brownish-amber bear riding a cloud, and a silvery feline that seems somewhat insubstantial and hard to pinpoint, even in this second vision.

With a sputtering of sprayed water, the aircar frees itself from the water. "There. Now, what else is coming at us, and where's RIU?" Holly asks.

On cue, RIU swims its way through the air and alights upon the top of the aircar, still looking away and toward the streaks of light. It's hard to tell, exactly, but it would seem as if his expression is somehow ... awestruck?

"Bluh," Jason says as he sort of waves back and forth in his seat. "He's above us and I can see what he does ... and wow it's nausea inducing; I feel like I've been drinking. Er, uh, anyway, some sort of lion, unicorn, and mercury feline are coming quickly this way."

Randall hovers nervously nearby on his spinner bike, waiting for Miss Trudeau to get flying. He checks the fire extinguisher's chemical level out of habit, not that it matters much, and then stashes it in favor of his regular sidearm.

Trudeau suddenly sits up strait, and the hairs on the back of her neck rise up. "Hey.. do either of you feel.. uh.. Well, ever had a triple mochachino latte with turbo juice?" she asks the others.

"Couldn't say as I had. Ready to move out? Let's go meet the ones Jason's talking about," Randall replies over the radio.

"My stomach is a little wonky from the car ride ... but otherwise, no, I feel fine," Jason admits. Unable to remain sitting still for long, he now starts fiddling with the car and tries to get it going. "RIU, come back in? We may be leaving soon," he thinks.

Holly gently guides the aircar away from the flailing horse-demon, at least until RIU gets back inside.

RIU dives back into the aircar, and takes its place on Jason's shoulder. At the edge of the pond, the demonic horse manages to roll over and get back up onto its hooves. A few flames weakly emit from its fetlocks, and smoke rises from its hairless tail, but its face is still covered in foam, and it thrashes about blindly. It narrowly avoids stumbling right into the pond proper, but starts at the noise of the aircar's movement. It may not be able to see ... but it can still hear.

"Half full. I'll distract it," Randall says into the radio. His voice is confident, more so than earlier. "You go on ahead, I can lose that thing easier."

"Figures," Holly mutters as the horse turns its attention on the car, and nudges it back out over the center of the pond. If the thing is going to charge, might as well make it hard for it.

"Wait, wait! I have an idea!" Jason radios. "Drop the extinguisher near it! I doubt your gun can hurt it ... but if you shoot the extinguisher ..."

The nightmarish horse starts again, as the aircar moves. It puts one hoof, somewhat flaming, out onto the water ... and the hoof seems to hover in place just above the water. Then it puts out another hoof, still covered by foam ... but that one drops into the water. The creature stumbles, whinnies angrily, and staggers back to the bank. It shakes its head, sending pieces of foam flying.

The young police officer grins. "You're the idea man, Jason." He does as directed, lobbing the extinguisher can toward its feet.

The nightmarish creature startles as the extinguisher lands in the earth beside it. It makes an angry whinny, and reflexively strikes down with its pavement-destroying hooves....

The nightmarish horse is now thoroughly coated in flame-retardant foam. Only the extremities of its wings have some bare patches still visible.

The police officer lines up the creature with his handgun - well, he had been about to shoot the extinguisher, but this is good too. "Go!" he yells into the radio.

Suddenly, those streaks of light come back, as more flying creatures encircle the pond....

A platinum-white lion with mane and tail-tip of orange fire, and glowing white wings sets down on the bank of the pond, as a teenaged boy in scuffed jeans, letter jacket and baseball cap hops off, surveying the scene.

Randall replies, "Affirmative. Stay calm, follow me." He holsters his gun and takes the lead, gliding the bike over to the side, where the lion set down.

"Then I'm going to land," Trudeau says, and takes the car to the far side of the pond, away from the foam-covered monster horse.

As the aircar reaches the bank, a winged unicorn lightly touches down. Flowers erupt from the grass, accompanied by sparkling sprays of dewdrops. A girl in a long dress and with a crown of flowers slides off the side, holding onto the winged unicorn's neck, as she looks out over the water.

Jason is just peering over the dashboard. The only think he seems to manage to say is, "Now I feel old. Teenagers."

"This can't be happening," Holly mutters as she lands the car near the lion-rider.

Closer to Officer Randall, a cloud lowers down toward the bank, holding a large brown bear that seems to just barely fit on its fluffy-looking platform. Once it touches down, a big-boned youth with jeans, T-shirt, and open plaid long-sleeved shirt clambers off somewhat clumsily. And finally, closer to the foam-covered nightmare, a silvery, ghostly cat alights upon the ground, as another girl, this one with raven-dark hair and dressed in a black outfit that seems somehow appropriate for a burglar, hops off.

The hispanic police officer is young for police, but these kids look like they're half his age, nevertheless. "I'm Officer Randall Cranston," he calls to the new arrivals, waving. "Are you the cavalry?"

"We're here just in time, Regis," the baseball-capped boy says soberly to his lion, ignoring the police officer. "Civilians are in danger!"

"Huh," the big kid says, "a police officer out at night? I thought you all just sat around eating donuts!" He laughs.

"Danger?!" Jason says, not perking up as he unbuckles and sticks his head out the canopy, "If you hadn't noticed we singlehandly blew up its followers and put this monster out, thank you!"

"Jason, listen; those kids may not be seeing the same 'reality' that we are," Holly whispers to Jason.

The dark-haired girl next to the cat raises a hand. "I noticed." She smirks. "I guess it's time for the coup de grace. Should I take the honor, Blake?"

"Your company experiments on children now?" Jason whispers back down into the car. He shakes his head.

The girl next to the unicorn looks around, uncertainly. "Uhm ... honest ... I scried ... a whole crowd of bogeybeasts and a nightmare! But ... where are they?"

"A common misconception," Randall says to the big kid conspiratorily. "Actually, that's just our cover identity. In secret, we fight crime."

"They're obviously playing the Avatars game," Holly hisses. "This isn't the Diadem of Worlds. They aren't acting like this suburban wasteland is anything out of the ordinary though."

The big kid looks a bit taken aback by Randall's congeniality. "Uh ... sorry. Uh ... Nick Fry." He extends a thick hand to the police officer. "But everybody calls me 'Small.'"

Randall shakes hands. "Good to meet you, Mr. Fry. Or Small, if you like. I'd be honored if you would take care of the perp-- er, the nightmare, miss."

Mentally, the police officer decides that there's no way he's going to try to handcuff and arrest the nightmare. These kids seem to know what they're doing.

The baseball-capped kid nods seriously to the black-haired girl. She, in turn, leans over and whispers into the ear of her cat. The cat purrs and nuzzles its ... owner? ... and then prowls over to the foam-covered nightmarish horse, circling around behind it.

The cat seems to become semi-insubstantial, hard to notice unless one were already tracking its movement.

Jason finally opens the door and just gets out. "What if they're just trapped in here like we are, though," he points out to Holly as he exits. Outside, Jason is a bit more subdued for the moment as he reaches up and just pats RIU for lack of anything else to do with his hands.

Climbing out of the aircar, Holly looks over the kids and watches the feline Avatar at work, wishing now she'd paid more attention to her son's gaming.

The nightmarish horse's head rises. Even though it's blinded, it seems to suspect that something is up. Nonetheless, as it turns about, it faces the wrong way.

The cat, in just the right position, suddenly slashes through the air and through the nightmare, streaks of glowing red following in the wake of its cuts. It follows up with a pounce and raking with its hind-claws, in a move so fast that the nightmare has only a brief moment to shriek in protest - but then it's over. The foam explodes outward with a burst of smoke, and there's a smell of sulfur in the air. Then, a glowing crystal fades into view where the nightmare stood just a moment ago, hovering in place just above the shoreline.

The black-haired girl steps up to the gem, eyebrows raised. "This was just TOO easy! Not that I'm complaining."

"Small" Fry, meanwhile, lets out a dejected sigh. "Thought we were gonna get to smash some bogeys for sure."

"Good work," Holly says to the kids. "I'm Hobbit, by the way. Don't suppose any of you know Tracer Trudeau?"

"Sorry, they were pre-smashed. We had no idea that help would show up," Jason comments with a rolling shrug of his shoulders.

Randall shrugs. "Sorry, folks, I think we kind of took the starch out of its friends with a little improvisation, thanks to our 'idea man' here..." He gestures toward Jason. "But we're glad you were here to finish the job. What's your name, miss?"

The baseball-capped kid turns to look at Ms. Trudeau, only belatedly paying her much attention now. "Nnnn... no, sounds familiar, but I don't think so." The others shrug in turn, while the black-haired girl takes the glowing gem and guides it to float into one of her many belt pouches. The gem shrinks down to fit as it goes inside, and by the glow emitting from the pouch, it would seem that she has others.

*** Note to GW: Move above line so it looks like he's responding to Ms. Trudeau. ;)

"Ah, well maybe you can help us with something else; our map got frotzed during the chase, and we don't know where we are," Holly asks ball-cap. "You're Blake, right?"

"Sasha," she black-haired girl says, as she scritches the cat (which seems to have become more solid again). "And this is Moonlight. A Fierce."

The ball-capped kid nods. "Blake Forester. We fight the Shadow. Not that ... well, you're going to forget about all this anyway. They all do."

"He looks pretty ferocious," agrees Randall. He asks around for other names, assuring kids this isn't a crime, but that he wants to be sure the department can thank them properly for their assistance, then settles against his bike pulling out a notepad. "The Shadow? That thing back there was one?"

Blake looks to Jason, but before he has a chance to answer that question, he turns to the police officer finally. "The Shadow. The Night. It's where the Sage says all the monsters come from. It's why nobody goes out at night. They don't really understand - they forget about the magical things - but they still know not to be outside at night. Most of them, anyway. Why are you out here? Why aren't you inside like everyone else?"

"Players," Holly whispers to Jason. "Something is messed up. I think A.D. Heimdall has gone catatonic or something, and Bifrost is out of sync between Asgard and Midgard. Uh.. that probably didn't make any sense, did it?"

"No," Jason tells Holly. Curiousity piqued, he heads towards Sasha now. "Pardon ... but could you tell me what that crystal was you picked up? Was it some sort of holographic projector lens? Would that explain the appearance of the monster?" he asks her.

Sasha laughs. "No, it's a ... uh ... crystal crystal. Aw, I don't remember the mumbo-jumbo about it. We just have to collect them for the Sage. We get stuff for them."

Blake says, "Just stay inside. Most of the time, they won't bother you if you're inside. Most of the time, anyway. Listen ... it's ... this is a waste of time, really. You're just going to forget anyway. You're grown-ups. That's just the way it is."

"Blake, look!" the fair-haired girl with the unicorn calls out. "It's ... it's really small, like Amaranth used to be ... but it's a dragon!"

Blake gives Holly a faintly annoyed look, then looks over toward Jason and RIU. "That's ... that's not ... huh ... there must be another kid around here!"

"Small," meanwhile, has produced a bag of donut holes from a saddle bag on the back of his bear, and munches away, watching the proceedings. He remembers his manners, and offers a few to Officer Cranston.

Crouching down a few feet away from 'Moonlight', Jason tells RIU, "Can you bring me my pack? I want to see if any of my scanners read anything of these."

RIU dives back into the aircar, prompting a gasp from the fair-haired girl ... and then it returns with the pack. The scanners appear to be still in working order.

Randall gratefully accepts, putting away the notepad. "Now that I think about it, we've missed dinner, Small. I guess the place is pretty well shut down at night, huh?"

"We could try one of those abandoned houses," Holly suggests to Randall. "They've got garages we can stash the vehicles in."

"Abampthdoned?" Small echoes. He swallows, then says, "Where'd you see abandoned houses?"

Jason takes the scanner, telling the diminutive dragon, "Thanks'. He taps on the pad a bit, then waves it in the direction of Moonlight briefly. When he sees the readout, his brow arches a bit. "Er, interesting," he mutters. To the others he says, "There are no data links to these things. That doesn't seem ... well, right."

Trudeau turns to look back the way they came, where the tract homes where, just to make sure they're still there and the world hasn't shifted on them with the arrival of the kids.

"Something's wrong," Blake says, his face turning red. "Why are you here? Do ..." He pauses a moment, then says, "Do you work for the Shadows? This is some kind of trick, isn't it?"

Randall wrinkles his nose. "That's breaking and entering, Miss Trudeau. We can last 'til morning and order something from a restaurant." To Blake he suggests, "I think our friend needs to see the Sage. He may be able to make sense of our situation."

As Ms. Trudeau looks, there are houses, all right, with limited variation in style and color. The street lamps work, there are parked cars in driveways, but no indication that anyone is still outside. It's evening, sure, but only early evening. It would seem that if these houses are inhabited, everyone has gone to bed early.

"You shot the lock off of that gas station, which we then blew up, Officer Cranston," Holly points out. "A little B&E isn't going to mean much right now."

Small laughs. "You blew up the gas station? I thought the monsters did that. I saw the fireball. Suuuu-weet!"

Small thinks, then says, "Well, it looked like it used to be one. What, did I get it wrong?"

"I bypassed the power locks on the pump and rigged a current surge to charge the fuel lines. It was tricky since I didn't have any precise timers; I had to rely on discharge rates in the capacitors," Jason tries explaining. "And did someone say Link? What's a Link?"

Randall grins and spreads his hand. "It was abandoned, opening it up forcefully triggered an alarm I was hoping would bring us some help inside this-- well, wherever we are. I didn't intend it to blow up, and honestly, we have to draw the line somewhere, Miss Trudeau."

The black-haired girl stops petting her oversized kitty-cat, and pushes her bangs out of the way to regard the officer. "It wasn't abandoned, officer. Just about everything closes down at sundown. There are only a few places that stay open late - such as the International House of Flapjacks. We hang out there a lot."

Holly points to the aircar next, asking, "What's that look like to you?" Then she points towards the houses, and asks, "And what's over there." To Jason, she explains, "Game term: it means a person who has an Avatar of some sort. Either a Guardian, like RIU or these other creatures here, or some sort of special ability."

"I'm very sorry that it blew up then, Sasha," says Officer Cranston sincerely. "I didn't authorize the action, but I did check that no one was inside."

Small follows Ms. Trudeau's gaze. "That's an aircar. And ... I don't know ... all I see are a bunch of houses. What's over there?"

"But ... RIU was my personal robot before all this weirdness," Jason comments as he glances towards the dragon. "It was the short out of that makeshift antenna that started this whole mess for us. Back when we were in that arcade."

Holly pinches the bridge of her nose in thought, and then asks Nick, "What Shard is this?"

Sasha shrugs, and slides onto the back of her oversized cat. "Well, I guess the action is over. I'll let all you work this out. I'm going to try to get some homework done before it gets much later. Hey, maybe I'll actually get some sleep for once." She makes a sloppy salute.

"Sasha!" Blake calls out, but the girl and her cat are already airborne. The as-yet-unintroduced fair-haired girl by the unicorn gives a worried glance to Blake, and asks, "Should I go after her?" But the ballcap-wearing kid just shakes his head.

Randall turns to Blake, who seems like the leader of this outfit, and brings up a map on his wrist-PDA. "As an officer of the law, Mister, I give you my word that I'm not in service to this Shadow. Might I trouble you for directions to this International House of Flapjacks? And to this Sage? I think he can help us figure out what's going on."

Blake frowns momentarily, but then looks down at the ground. He looks back up again, and it seems like he's recovered whatever humor he should normally have. "Yeah, sure. It's the one closest to North Bend High. It's on Main. Just go along the highway, and first exit in town...." He gives detailed directions - for ground travel.

Looking t the flower-girl and associating her with the earlier comment about a link, he decides to ask her something. So ... he heads towards her and the unicorn. "Hi, I'm Jason and this is RIU," he says by way of introductions for his 'companion'. "Given your comments earlier ... I guess you've never seen anyone my age with one of these? Ever?"

Holly listens to the directions, and thinks of where the airbus station is in relation to the high school. "We can catch a bus.. uh.. airship in town too, I think," she comments.

Randall annotates his map and notices that Blake doesn't seem keen to share the location of the Sage. "If you're hungry," he suggests to the kids. "I think we can manage to cover dinner for you all?"

The fair-haired girl giggles as the little dragon swims through the air to greet her. "It's adorable! And still in its First Light, I can tell. You know, they usually get bigger, but it's so nice when you can hold them in your hands." Then, she remembers herself and curtseys. "I'm so sorry! I'm Princess Heart. Or ... oh, sorry. I mean, I pretend to be Princess Heart, and that's what Amaranth calls me ... except, she doesn't talk, really." The girl bites her lip. "You can call me Jenny."

Small digs around in his bag, looking for one last donut hole, but in vain. He wads up the bag and puts it back in his saddlebag. "I'm in!"

"Hello Jenny. I'm just Jason. Jason Edwards to be completely formal, but, eh, no real point to it," Jason says and tries to smile. "Can you tell me where they come from? We've had a bit of a rough day. Well, crazy day, really." And after glancing back to the others, adds, "We can just discuss it over some food, if that's easier."

"You can call me Randall," the police officer adds, joining the informality crowd if that wasn't evident.

"I'll get the car warmed up," Holly says, returning to her vehicle and doing just that.

The police officer gets back onto his bike and gives the high-sign to go ahead once it's warmed up.

Soon, the aircar and spinner-bike are headed toward North Bend, following the highway, leaving the smouldering ruins of the Stop-N-Go and the craters in the pavement far behind them. Ahead of them, a threesome of flying creatures heads along at a good clip - but not so fast that the "grown-ups" can't keep up.

"I don't think they trust us," Jason comments to both Holly and Randall. "Can't really blame them, either. The big question is ... are they real?"

"Why would they make a Shard of New Jersey?" Holly says over the com. "Those guys must have been smoking something cheep to come up with this."

"As for if they are real.. uh, I don't know. They could be GESTALT A.I.s," the woman says. "They sure seem to fall into a classic quest-group pattern, even down to personalities."

Over the radio comes Randall's voice. "We need to find this Sage. He's clearly set up some kind of scheme where he pays kids to act like vigilantes. How these kids got into this world, I don't know, but the Sage is the keystone."

"Get me to a functioning terminal and I bet I could find out where it is," Jason offers.

Randall's voice adds, "Also, Miss Trudeau, I'm fairly sure that AIs, 'Gestalt' or not, do not need to do homework."

"I was never certain you were ever real in the first place, Edwards," Holly comments with a grin. "And in here, real is.. variable. I can't say for certain if we're caught in the Asgard system or not. And yes, some of them do have homework, Jason, believe it or not. Midgard is used to simulate a lot of environments, including real people."

"So ... I've been thinking on that weird black door we saw in the arcade. I have a guess on what it was," Jason says as he reaches up and lifts RIU down into his lap. He's seemingly unable to resist the urge to pet the little dragon.

"Me too.. well, maybe," Holly notes. "I need to draw a picture for you guys when we get to the restaurant."

"I think it was a virus," Jason comments as he glances towards Holly. "RIU tries to show me what it was and it was ... a bizarre flurry of data patterns. Chaotic. One thing was clear, though ... it was dangerous."

Randall's voice is silent for a bit and then when he speaks again, it's low and hushed. "I think most of the people around here are AI simulations. Miss Penny was one. When she went out into the real world, it looked like she got corrupted somehow. She began to mutate. The end product of that would have been... Well, like that monster we saw going into the arcade."

"If I know my AIs right, most of them are low-grade things that fall back into a routine if they're allowed to," Randall says. "I think that's who these kids have been rescuing. That's why the ones they save forget about what happened."

"I have no idea how a simulation can step out into the real world at all," Trudeau says, but doesn't sound certain about that.

A sigh over the radio. "Simulation or not, I'd call in the gas station explosion and get the fire department on it, but when I tried to call out on the phone, I got the real world 911 line."

"Well, anyway ... I think we'd best not annoy these kids. An AI or not .. their pets could shred us," Jason says, "And I can't prevent it by hacking the data stream ... because they don't have any."

"That disturbs me the most, Randall," Holly says. "There shouldn't be any connections except through Valhalla."

Trudeau just frowns at that. "Let's get to the IHOF, and I'll explain what I know about the system," she comments.

Randall's nod is invisible to Jason and Miss Trudeau. "They don't trust us," he points out. "How much do you want to tell them about all this?"

"It won't make any sense to them," Holly says. "The public info uses colors and such for things, and doesn't go into the actual architecture. I've got the techies' description, which uses a different nomenclature."

"The moment you believe your systems are impenetrable is when they're most likely broken into. People get lazy and think technology can handle everything. Well, it can't," Jason notes, "The people controlling it are always the weakest link. Are you sure your company doesn't have an employee that's slipped in a back door program?"

"No, about how we got here and the fact that as far as we know, we're 'really here' - not connected to this world and playing a game," Randall clarifies.

"We need to find out if they think they're playing a game," Jason offers. "I'm not quite sure they do."

Randall points out, "They log off to do their homework. They see what they're doing as heroic. They think we're strange NPCs in this game they've discovered, where they fight Shadows in a simulation of the real world. You know computers, I know people."

"Best to assume they're real people who exist outside of the game environment," Holly suggests.

Randall nods invisibly. "I'll give my department a quick blip to let Marge know I'm not dead." He keys a message in the parking lot to advise Marge that he's been delayed in returning, will file a full report later.

International House of Flapjacks
A few blocks down from North Bend High, the main draw of this restaurant is that it's open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week - even on holidays. Although the house specialty is flapjacks (it's breakfast SOMEWHERE in the world, after all), they serve a full range of "American-mishmash" menu items. Cozy booths line the walls, while more conventional tables are available toward the center. There's also a separate room for special occasions in the back, and in another corner there's a small mini-arcade with an assortment of antiquated video consoles.

The kids have the "celebration room" reserved, and in short order, the waitress is bringing out the orders.

The waitress doesn't seem to be particularly alarmed by the fact that there's a police officer in uniform, a 30-something businesswoman and a skinny guy with a dragon on his shoulder, in addition to the kids. But then, she's also not surprised by the unicorn, the bear, the lion, or the oversized cat.

"Extra lavender for you," the waitress says, as she puts down a bouquet of flowers in front of the unicorn. The unicorn whickers cheerily, and begins munching away.

"Ay, delicioso!" says the hispanic officer with gusto. His is a triple-stack of oat pancakes with two soy-sausages on the side.

Poking at her jalapeno-chicken salad, Holly unfolds her mobile to it's largest size and starts drawing on it with her stylus. "Thank goodness for flowcharting software. I can't draw a circle that doesn't look lopsided," she says.

"So, uhm, Jenny ..." Jason asks as he nods towards her unicorn. "how did you get yours, anyway?" He's mostly poking at his bacon and pancakes ... which probably explains why he's thin.

"Oh," Jenny says. "You mean, Amaranth? I've always had her. Or ... no, no, that's not right. Or, haven't I? I used to be a princess, but ... no, that's not right."

Blake shakes his head. "That was just a dream," he says, sighing. "We were tricked by a fox spirit. It was hardest on Jenny. She sometimes gets confused."

Randall eats while listening. All that exercise earlier must have worked up an appetite.

"Yes," Blake says. "He is a Prince of the Avatars. When we have faced enough challenges, he shall replace the King of the Avatars, who was slain by the Shadows." Blake reaches over, tousling the mane of the lion - without any visible damage. It would seem that despite the flame-like appearance of the mane, it's merely a visual effect (or else it would likely be a lot warmer and smokier in here).

"Ooookay. And how did you two become ... linked?" Jason asks next. He munches on half of a piece of bacon. The other half he offers to the dragon on his shoulders ... which promptly gobbles it down.

The police officer looks at the dragon curiously. It used to be a robot, did it? he visibly thinks.

"It was when the school was first attacked by the monsters," Blake says. "I saw several of my classmates go down ... and then, they were going to get Jenny...." He looks up to her. "I ... I couldn't let that happen. I don't know what happen. It was like a fire welled up inside me. A burning, righteous rage. And then this roar came out ... it was Regis! He answered my call. Although ... well, he was a lot smaller back then, sure. But the monsters were caught by surprise."

Finishing her drawing, Holly announces, "Okay, who wants to learn the Second Hand Secrets of the Universe?"

Sasha looks slightly nonplussed, but then turns to Ms. Trudeau. "Uhm ... yes'm, whatever that means."

"So ... how many people have them?" Jason asks before telling Holly, "Sure. Might as well. If you had told me all of it earlier we might not be in this mess, you know..."

Sasha glances to Randall, and then leans forward and taps on her pad. It's a bulkier model of yesteryear, which, for whatever aesthetic purpose, looks like an even more antique textbook when closed.

Holly uses the syrup rack and napkin dispenser to prop up her page-sized thin-screen at the end of the table, so everyone can see. Zoomed out, it shows a tall oval with the word 'Yggdrasil' along the upper arc, and inside it are three more ovals stacked one above the other. Inside of each of these are three more ovals. There is a curved, rainbow-colored arch between the top two larger ovals, and a tenth small oval at the very bottom of the Yggdrasil one. "Okay, this is the Avatars LLC computer structure as explained to me by the tech folks."

"Oh!" Jenny says, clapping her hands together. "I remember! I used to play that game, didn't I? THAT'S where I was Princess Heart!"

Randall nibbles on the soy-sausage while listening. Mm, spicy textured protein. "Hmm?" he mumbles to Jason.

Using the stylus to zoom in on the top oval, the three smaller ones inside are labeled Asgard, Alfheim and Muspelheim. Within these are names; AD Odin, AI Ratatosk and AI Nidhogg in Asgard, AD Loki in Alfheim, and AD Surtr in Muspelheim.

"You should enter everyone's names in your PDA so that it's all properly recorded and searched for your report on this weirdness," Jason remarks, though with emphasis on 'searched'. "We would want the police to offer correct commendations for the kids' help this afternoon, right?"

Holly taps the screen, and a square appears labeled Valhalla, which connects the upper oval to the outer one. "Okay. This is the core of the game system. Asgard is managed by Odin, an Artificial Deity - that's an AI with superhuman intelligence within a narrow field. Odin manages all the game quest elements and player interactions. Ratatosk is a regular AI that handles communications and language translation within the game, and Nidhogg manages game monsters."

"Sure thing, Jason," Randall says. He had actually already noted their names, but under the guise of getting their names right for the record, he enters the Missing Persons search request.

Moving on to the next small oval, Holly explains, "This is Alfheim, the NPC realm, managed by A.D. Loki. For realism, all NPC GESTALTs have simulated lives when they aren't interacting with the Players. Loki handles all of them, good and evil." She tapes the third oval, saying, "Muspelheim is the system that manages magic, combat, and supernatural game effects. A.D. Surtr controls this." The square is next. "Valhalla is the link to the outside world. It 'rasterizes' the game reality down to something that commercial VR sets can handle."

"What type of link is used for Valhalla?" Jason remarks and takes a bite of pancake, "Hardline or transmit? What speed?"

"Valhalla is the only outside data point for the game system, since it connects to the telecom cloud," Holly answers. "It's standard Ultra-Wideband with Q-Encryption, same as everything else. Internally, it uses Bifrost to interface with the Yggdrasil system."

"So it transmits on the standard modulation frequency. There is a slight chance for a piggyback signal to ride with it and acting as a secondary channel," Jason remarks. "Unlikely, but such is what it is. What does the system do to verify the VR units are clean? How much trust does your system provide to the client? Does it do positive validation? In other words, are clients assumed bad data and it has to be proved good before interface is allowed?"

Suddenly, as data floods Officer Cranston's screen, a tall and imposing cloaked figure glides into the room. A cowl obscures his features, though a long beard and the tip of a hooked nose can barely be made out. "Officer Cranston, Ms. Trudeau, Mr. Edwards. Good evening."

Trudeau taps the rainbow arc after scrolling up a bit. "This is Bifrost, a quantum-entanglement data teleportation system. Effectively infinite bandwidth, which the internal systems need. It's managed by A.D. Heimdall. I think our current problem may have to do with this system. It connects the game cluster to the simulation cluster: Midgard, Jotunheim and Vanaheim.." The woman trails off as she hears the new arrival speak her name..

Jason stops mid-bite. A drop of syrup hits the table. "Uh, hello," is about all he manages to say to the figure.

Randall dims the screen - standard feature on anything with sensitive data, and tries to conceal the shocked look on his face. "Evening! You've the advantage of us, sir," he says.

"Shopping time!" Sasha declares, as she reaches for her pouch, and begins pulling out glowing crystals. The sage, however, holds up a forestalling hand to her, keeping his attention trained on the newcomers.

"Young heroes," the sage intones, "you have done well tonight. But as you can see, the winds of Fate still blow. These visitors have their own journey to undertake, and I must do what I can to assist them, in the name of my Master. You shall be well rewarded for your efforts, but perhaps this is a good night to take to the example of young Sasha the Rogue, and to retire to your homes."

Small looks around, munching slowly, and raises his eyebrows, as if for confirmation.

"Do we have time to finish eating?" asks Randall a little plaintively. He gestures to the kids to indicate them as well.

"Adventuring on an empty stomach is bad for the stamina," Jason offers helpfully.

"Well," the sage says, sounding slightly uncertain in the face of Officer Cranston's perfectly natural demeanor. "That is true enough," he says, nodding. "It is the hero's reward, to come back to a full feast."

The police officer thanks the Sage. "Care to have a seat? I'm sure the waitress wouldn't mind bringing you a little something," he suggests. Not that he really had too much to finish, but he was brought up not to waste food. And something about the way the Sage is dismissing the kids bothers him.

The sage slowly shakes his head. "I shall return one hour hence." And with that, and not waiting for another word, he glides out of the room.

"So ... huh," Jason says as he watches the sage leave. Shaking his head, he looks back to Holly, commenting, "You didn't answer my question."

Sasha nods and sighs, putting the gems back away into her pouch. "He's like that. He's the sage. You try to ask him too many questions, and he just ... well, it just doesn't work. It used to be worse, though. He used to give us riddles all the time. And the answers didn't make much sense."

"No," Blake corrects. "That was in the fox-spirit's dream. That was the false Sage."

Sasha opens her mouth to reply, then shuts it again and shakes her head. "Sorry. That fox-spirit played some real mind games on us. I thought I'd sorted it all out." She rolls her eyes.

Randall smiles to 'Small'. "No problem. I was brought up not to waste food," he says explaining. He unblanks his screen and sends a copy of the data on it to Jason's comm casually, between bites. "So what's this about a fox-spirit and false Sage?"

Jenny nods fervently. "I even had a dream where I was married and had kids!" She looks suddenly sad and pensive.

"So ... you've mentioned this dream twice ... some sort of fox-spirit. What exactly happened?" Jason asks, echoing Cranston. "And how long ago was it?"

Jason's terminal vibrates in his coat pocket. He pulls the terminal out and peers at it. His brow goes up briefly, then nods once and turns the screen off. The look he casts towards Randall isn't one of surprise ... and then he just nods.

Sasha says, "Most of the monsters - well, they're just monsters. I mean, they're ... well, how to say it? They're like nasty versions of the Guardian Beasts. They're awfully smart for animals - I mean, if you can call them animals - but they're not ... uhm ... I don't want to say not intelligent, but not able to talk like you and me."

Randall clears the screen to the standard NYPD display as he listens, making sure that it's logging faithfully. He sips his water, pretty much done with his dinner-breakfast now.

"Well, the first one we ran into that was smarter than that was a shape-shifter," Sasha says. "A fox spirit. Japanese, Chinese - I don't know. I guess it doesn't really matter anyway. She had the power of illusions. There are smarter versions of those nightmares, too - cauchemares - who have powers of dreams. I guess it's kind of all the same, though. She tried to confuse us, make us think we weren't who we really were, to defeat us. Blake, though, he's got a strong will - and a strong bond to Regis - strongest of any of us, I think."

Blake smiles and runs his hand through Regis's mane again. Regis makes a rumbling purr.

"So, Blake helped you see past the illusions? Sounds like a true leader," Jason comments with a smile.

"Yeah," Sasha says with a nod. "He's got a knack for it. Anyway, you ever have one of those dreams, where you dream you've woken up ... only you're still asleep? Multiply that several times over, and each time was a different version of reality, and you have something like what happened to us. Small's so easy-going, he's probably the best at handling it. We were all shook up."

"A few times, yeah. It's pretty disorienting," Jason agrees. "So, what happened to end it?"

"I can only imagine," Holly murmurs. "You kids are pretty tough to come through that and still hold on to your sense of self."

Small, meanwhile, just continues to chug away at his food, nodding absently at the praise. Even though the sage said he'd be back in an hour, Small eats like the sage might change his mind and come back any time now.

Jenny chimes in, "Blake broke free first. He knew that the Regis in his dream wasn't the real Regis, but just a shadow. And he summoned the real Regis and battled the fox-spirit, but even with Blake, it wasn't enough for him to do it alone. She was too powerful. She had lots of tails." Jenny pauses. "He let us know how much we mean to him, and how important it was that we accept ourselves for who we are, not who we wish we could be."

Sasha frowns. "Yeah, well, something like that. I don't think all my dreams were who I wished I could be, really. I can do a lot better wishing than that."

"Who you wish to be, or who you are resigned to be," Blake comments quietly, as he continues to pat the lion.

"Reality has a funny way of working out," Randall admits. "When I was a kid, I wanted to be an asteroid miner."

Sasha laughs. "In one of my dreams, I was one! It was pretty believable, too. Riding the sky elevator up ... working on the asteroids in orbit. Uh ... oh, there I go again. ARE there asteroids in orbit, or was that just my dream?"

"And ... what sort of dreams did you have before breaking free, Blake?" Jason now asks.

Blake frowns. "I dreamed of being all alone, without any of my friends. And I dreamed of being with them, but losing them to ... lots of things going wrong."

Blake shakes his head. "I don't really like to think about it too much. The more you dwell on lies like that ... the more it clutters your true memories."

Jenny nods sagely and sadly. "Well, we defeated the fox-spirit ... but I don't know if she's totally gone. We didn't get a crystal from her. She might still be out there."

"If there were asteroids in orbit, I'm sure you could see them with a basic telescope," Holly comments with a grin. "Or you could always Googipedia it at home."

"Where did you fight this fox spirit?" Jason inquires as he sets down his silverware; apparently done eating as well.

Randall, about to say something, eyes Holly sideways. She must have a reason for not saying outright that they're there. He gets a notion what she's trying to do, and decides not to follow it up; instead, he asks Blake about the false Sage, and how he differs from the real one. Or differed, if he's past tense.

"We fought her at the high school," Small says, since it happens to be a brief moment while his mouth is mostly empty. "She was disguised as one of the students. Pretty sneaky. At least, I think she was. It was pretty confusing. In some of the dreams, she was part of our team. We had a few different team members in them."

Small blushes. "I mean ... in some of the dreams, the girl she was pretending to be was part of our team. We didn't have a fox-spirit monster on the team, you know. That'd be stupid."

"Akiko," Small says. "Japanese foreign exchange student. I mean, in one of the dreams. Oh, just assume that each time I say something like that, you know? It's messy trying to keep track of what's real and what wasn't."

Blake takes his turn to explain, "In the dreams, we had a Sage giving us orders ... but they were all things to keep us in line, to keep us from straying off the path the fox-spirit wanted us to follow. But here, the Sage helps us. He's just here to guide us and help us fight the enemy, and to become stronger."

Randall says, "How do you know the difference? Does he look the same? Did he defeat the false one?"

Jason taps his terminal lightly with his finger and flashes a look towards Cranston. "That sounds scary," he admits, A monster messing with your minds is terrible."

Blake says, "He was trying to talk to us, but the illusion was powerful. Regis helped me to realize the lies, though. And then I was able to notice the little messages the sage was sending to us."

"There were whispers in the wind, reflections in mirrors that weren't quite right," Blake says. "Little things that you could just wave off ..." He stops midsentence, and then downs the last of his pork patty. "You know ... things that aren't the way they should be." He sets his fork aside, and it looks like he's finished with his meal. The lion raises its head expectantly.

"Where there any squirrels involved?" Holly has to ask, with a perfectly straight face.

Jason now sits up as well. "Is there something wrong? RIU, do you sense anything?" he asks worriedly as he watches Blake.

RIU scans the room anxiously, whiskers twitching, in response to its master's query.

The police officer's glance catches on Sasha during Blake's glowing report of the Sage. "We can wait here for the Sage to return if you'd like to go home and catch up on your homework, or do some research on Googipedia," he suggests. "You've all been very helpful, and I don't want to keep you too long."

"In Norse mythology, Ratatosk was a squirrel who carried rumors and messages across Yggdrasil," Holly notes. "So, yes... did you notice any squirrels when you came across these clues?"

Shifting a bit uncomfortably, Jason says, "We didn't mean to bring up bad memories. We're just a bit confused and lost ourselves. It's been a rough day. I'm sure the sage can sort us out; no need to stay and worry over things dealt with."

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it," Sasha says, pushing back from the table. "Come on, kitty. I said I was going to get some sleep tonight. Not going to get it here at the I-HOF. Nice to meet you, folks. Cute dragon."

"It was great meeting you, Sasha. Maybe we'll see you around," Jason says with a smile and wave. "Thanks again for all the help!"

Sasha tosses off another halfhearted salute, then moseys out the door, with her oversized cat in tow.

Randall gives Sasha a sympathetic look. "Look me up anytime if you want to talk," he says. "Officer Randall Cranston, NYPD."

"Sure, Officer Cranston," Small says, as he gets up and pushes his seat away. He heads around the table, and looks for a moment as if he's about to help Jenny out of her chair, but then catches himself, looks confused, and heads out, whistling to his bear. The lumbering beast follows after him, only pausing to briefly snuffle at the crumbs and bits on one of the plates on the way out.

"Hey, Holly? I took some notes during your lecture on your system. Mind looking over them and make sure I didn't miss anything?" Jason asks the woman.

Jenny looks after the departing bear, and then lights up when Blake comes over to her. She giggles, and then looks to the others. "It's so good to meet you all! I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again." She leans over to tickle at RIU's chin. "Especially you! You're so adorable! You look just like ... uhm ... oh, never mind. Good night!" And then she heads out, along with Blake - and the unicorn and lion. The room is a lot less crowded now.

Randall waves to the kids with a smile. He jokes to Miss Trudeau as they go, "So, can your company expense the meal or are we chipping in?" Discreetly however, he forwards the remainder of the Missing Person reports to Jason, including a search for Akiko.

Jason flicks his terminal back on and shows Holly the screen. Unlike his claims ... it doesn't have notes at all, but instead an excerpt from a police file: Jenny Hart - maiden name of Jenny Fry, age 35, part-time retail store clerk, mother of two, reported missing, along with her husband. Nick Fry, age 44, graphics designer at Avatars LLC, US division, reported missing - both as of February, 2058. Partial remains found at scene of aircar crash, but there were irregularities that led to the case being held open for a while. Case not yet resolved.

Unfortunately, despite Officer Cranston's attempt to research some of the other names bandied about, in the course of the evening's talk in the parking lot on the way in, and in the small talk while they were waiting for food to arrive, he's unable to piece together enough to find anything on Sasha (no last name given) or Akiko (ditto).

With the kids gone, Holly props her display back up. "Okay, ready for the scary stuff?" she asks.

Jason flips his screen back off and nods. "Interesting, isn't it?" he comments. "I think they're trapped here, same as us. So ... just what is the Sage? And ... sure."

"There are a lot of missing people," Randall admits. "I need their last names. Well, I know she might have been an asteroid miner." He tries adding that refinement.

"Well, if Akiko was a Japanese transfer student, there should be a VISA on file with the INS. I imagine there aren't that many Japanese transfer students," Jason suggests.

Trudeau licks her lips, then says, "If we get out of here, you can't repeat any of this." She points to the central oval again, noting the three smaller ones inside. "Vahaheim does atmosphere and biosphere simulation, managed by A.D. Freya. Jotunheim is geology and hydrology, run by A.D. Fenrir. The middle here, Midgard, is where it all comes together with the GESTALT system to simulate everything and anything. The Diadem of Worlds, oil exploration, weather prediction, sociological studies. It's managed by A.D. Thor. According to my geeks, Midgard simulations are just a single level of resolution away from being actual reality, from a quantum-mechanical viewpoint."

Unfortunately, it would seem that Akiko (which translates as "Autumn Child") is a very popular name, perhaps owing to the name of a popular Japanese anime-VR character a couple of decades ago. Still, it narrows down things slightly. As for Sasha, there is a Sasha Knightley, who was formerly employed at Avatars LLC before abruptly leaving her job and leaving no forwarding information. Seems she went "off the grid," though no missing persons report was filed.

*** Note to GW: Move above statement so it's not right next to Holly's infodump. ;)

"And you haven't run afoul of the government with that?" Jason has to ask Holly. "You do realize that probably violates all sorts of internal security regulations, yes?"

"Who do you think buys most of our simulation time?" Holly replies. "This stuff isn't paid for by game subscriptions. We've got more digital brainpower here than.. well, anything. Maybe even more than humanity. We don't even know how it all works." She points to the lower oval. "This is where I live, in Systems. Niflheim is security - security involving our real data lines. Hel here is our A.D., and Svartaheim is the non-A.I. oversight and system monitoring system." The oval at the very bottom of the chart, unconnected to the rest, is labeled 'Well of Urd'. "This is top secret; I only know the project name."

"Well of Urd," Holly points out. "In myth, it was the abode of the three Norns. The Norse version of the Fates."

"And then the hacking issues you hired me to help track down had nothing to do with the game, did they?" Jason asks next, his voice taking on a slightly harder edge. "Just what game have you pulled all of us into?"

Randall cross-links the data for Jason and Holly's view, then clears the screen in case the Sage arrives suddenly. He files a short report to Marge. Apparently trapped in a simulation world with two civilians. I know it sounds crazy. May have leads for some missing persons cases. Please cross-check with Avatars LLC. Playing it by ear for now, please let me know when you get a response.

The officer notices, as he sends the message, that he's got several waiting messages, but that at some point, during all the mayhem, it seems his PDA must have been set to "notify off."

"If they ever manage to get enough computational power to simulate the atomic-level of resolution, then there will be no real difference between Midgard and external reality. Right now, it's stopped at the molecular level - that's why you can taste this food, and the fuel works in the aircar. But if you took Midgard 'matter' out into our world, it might just act like what we saw back at the arcade," Trudeau notes.

Randall checks the messages. "It's still simulated though, isn't it? There's gotta be a fundamental difference."

There are several "Where the smeg are you?" type messages. There's a report on "Penny Arcadia" (no ID match to database, but name recorded in lieu of Jane Doe, due to transmission from officer in the field). Apparently, the specimen has been put into flash-cryo storage, and examined - and found to be some sort of artificial life form that has a very unstable structure, and an incomplete semblance of a brain.

"Simulations run by quantum computation," Holly says. "How is that different from reality, really? It's all wave functions and stuff in the end. You don't expect the system to actually treat simulations as digital entities? They follow natural quantum laws. The system was designed by guys who thought Einstein had some pretty neat ideas."

Randall skips responding to the location queries - that's covered by his report - and copies this last record to Jason and Holly with no comment of his own. The data speaks for itself.

"If we're able to contact the outside at all, then maybe the portal is still open," Holly notes, trying to sound hopeful.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but just because the idea is neat doesn't mean it should be attempted. That I know from experience," Jason grumbles. As he reads over the report, he feels compelled to add, "And now ... so do you."

"I wouldn't take that portal for a million bucks," Randall says soberly. "You saw what happened to your squirrel."

"And yeah, that signal wasn't about a breach in Valhalla," Holly notes. "Scarlet was solid state. A quantum transition can be hard on electronics. But the initial entry didn't affect her, just RIU. We aren't simulations of living organisms."

"Are we somehow now just simulations? Did that blast vaporize us?" Jason remarks a bit grimly. "Are the real versions dead?"

"What about our gear and vehicles then?" Holly asks. "Do you believe aircars have ghosts?"

Randall shakes his head. "They didn't find blast damage, no damaged cars, we vanished from the scene," he reminds Jason, replaying the video the CSI team shot when they got there.

"Ever hear of a neutron bomb, Randall? Old device that would kill anything living but leave all buildings intact," Jason points out.

Randall holds his wrist so Holly can access it. "I guess we're mixed up on the same case then, huh? So whose jurisdiction is it, yours or mine?"

The video shot shows the tracks, the scrapes ... reasonable signs for all the adventures that happened before that big flash. But after that, there are no remains save for the dead body that was at the scene already, and no trace of the vehicles save for their tracks. The yellow tape is still there, though, and a few odd tools (so that's where they went) that were missing from Jason's set.

Holly switches back to the personnel files Randall had dug up. "Sasha Knightley. Of course she'd have a cat Guardian, that.." Trudeau suddenly grumbles. "Did she recognize me?"

"Do you have a problem with the missing woman known as Sasha?" Jason asks, brow arched. "Or have something to do with her disappearance?"

"I don't think so. But these kids have had a lot of mind-meddling done to them," Randall says soberly, keeping an eye on the door. "I think she was close to remembering something about who she was. We need to keep them away from the Sage."

Randall adds, "The problem is, they're conditioned to expect people trying to change their minds about who they really are."

"And if we say anything we'll be accused of being agents for the fox ... and frankly their pets' claws are huge," Jason mutters.

"I wished for her disappearance three years ago!" Holly snaps. "She's the one who slept with Mark! And a bunch of others, if the rumors are true. And.. yeah, she went off-grid. At the time, I figured she was just getting ready to change her ID. When I did a background check on her, there was.. something. I just felt it was all fake, and that she was an industrial spy or something, but she vanished before I could find anything to support that."

Jason sits back and starts tapping on his own terminal; testing to see if it has a link to his system back home.

The full report on Sasha Knightley indicates someone who has led an awfully adventuresome life, occasionally off the grid, and most probably with a few falsified details (a difficult but not entirely impossible thing to manage, with the right connections) in her history. For one thing, it's hard to believe that she'd only be a 20-something, and yet manage to cram in the tight schedule of adventures - and affairs - indicated in her record. According to records, she's been a pilot, an asteroid miner, spent some time in a biosphere in the Venusian colonies, done modeling, even a little bit of acting (or "acting"), and finally did some work for Avatars LLC as a game tester. It would seem that she vanished around Christmas-time, just this past winter - though no missing persons report was ever filed. She just "went off the grid," it seems - no forwarding address or contacts. But then, there are several indications she may have been romantically involved with several employees of Avatars LLC - all marri

Randall looks surprised at Holly. "That's... What's she doing in here as a sixteen-something then?"

"I don't know, but I want to look at the Arcade again," Holly says, looking angry.

The officer nods. "Let's play along with what the Sage has to say," he says. "But don't go off with him alone. We need to stick together."

"Yeah, the Sage.. nearly forgot about him," Holly mutters, and folds up her mobile's screen.

Jason's terminal lights up ... with the image of an old-time bomb, complete with fuse burning away. "You have five seconds to authorize yourself or your terminal will be obliterated!" it announces in a perky voice. "Yeah yeah," Jason mutters and taps away more, then provides a thumbprint. The picture of the bomb rolls over and a little flag pops out, declaring 'Access Granted!' "Good, I can access my home system. I'm going to set up a spider to do some searching on all of these names. It'll take several hours, but maybe we can add to our arsenal of information," he tells the others.

"Sounds good. I agree with you, Miss Trudeau, but I don't really want to check it out at night," Randall says. "Ah... You want to expense this or are we splitting the check?"

A light mist spills into the room, as a shadowy, tall figure slides in through the doorway.

"I've got an expense account," Holly notes, and takes out an Avatars LLC branded credit card. "Oh, and speak of the devil.."

"That will not be necessary," the sage says. "The heroes need not pay for their well-earned feast."

Jason finishes up setting the search, then closes down his terminal again. "The mysterious figure returns ... mysteriously!" he comments. "When did we become heroes?"

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am known as Fjalar the Learned by those few who call me by name," the sage pronounces.

"They must be able to tie knots in cherry stems with their tongues," Holly comments.

Randall smiles, but it's the standard impersonal police-officer smile. "And you already know our names, but you can call me Randall," he says.

"As you wish. You may refer to me as the Sage, as is the practice of my charges," the sage says. "I merely introduce my proper name for the sake of formality. And as to why I should know your names, I am Fjalar the Learned, and many are the resources open to me to gain knowledge from this world and that one which you came from, and the one to which you have failed to reach."

"Where exactly are we and how did we get here?" Jason asks, getting to the point. "And why are we here?"

Randall grins at Jason and refrains from pointing out that he and Miss Trudeau hardly bear such convenient objects.

"You are in the North Bend That Never Was, But Should Have Been," the sage pronounces. "It is the place of refuge of my Master, created for Testing, though it has expanded in scope. The place which you have failed to attain is known as the Diadem of Worlds. Though I am Learned, I can only suppose that is the proper place for you, since it is not intended that outsiders should penetrate into this refuge."

"A hidden simulation in Midgard?" Holly asks, looking horrified. "And just who is your Master, Sage?"

"What about the children, then? I don't think they should be here," Jason remarks, "Nor do I think they're actually children..."

I am forbidden to identify my Master, except as the Master, without his express permission," the sage says. "He has reason to suspect that there might be complications, and I must not do anything that would hinder him in his work."

Randall makes sure his PDA is recording. His friends are handily covering the questions, so he keeps an eye on the Sage and the room.

"Look around, this place is out of the 2020s, maybe earlier 2030s. Subtract that difference from the ages of the missing people, and they'd be teenagers," Holly points out.

"It is true," the sage says, "that much of this world echoes your own, from that time period, with elements of others, as is the design of the Master, for he wished to have the best of the present and the past for his testing."

"I wouldn't be born yet, but you don't see me as a fetus or as, well, a little tadpole in a glass, do you?" Jason remarks to Holly.

"If you would think that preferable," the sage says, "something might be arranged."

Randall intervenes, "I like Jason the way he is, thanks, Mr. Fjalar! Let me ask you a different question. Is something wrong, as you see it, and is there some way that we can help?"

"Ah, no, no thank you. So, how do we get back home?" Jason asks, "And how did ..." He points at the dragon on his shoulder.

"We came in unexpectedly," Holly says. "The others may have done this voluntarily. Nick and Jenny could have faked their deaths, Sasha vanished. Not sure about Blake yet."

"That is true," the sage says. "It is beyond my ability to fully comprehend what may be the cause behind your presence here. Due to my directives from my Master, my interactions with the rest of the Pantheon are greatly limited."

"I must confess that, regarding your presence, I have many conflicting directives which I must resolve," the sage says. "Due to prior experience, and my directive that requires me to look out for the best interests of any guests - such as it does not contradict my other directives - I am obliged to consult with you before I receive further instructions from my Master directly. I think that might be in your best interest."

"After all," the sage says, "given the fact that your presence is unexpected, you might be perceived as a threat."

"Well, if you would show us a safe way out, we could leave and not be a threat," Jason offers.

"If you are a threat," the sage says, "then it is likely that you shall be ... found a role in which you present no great threat. And if you do not assimilate into a new role well ... then it shall be tried again. The results of such measures have been less than satisfactory."

"So ... we are expected to become a 'game member' like the others have?" Jason asks worriedly.

"You are most observant," the sage says. "It is not possible for me to rewrite memories. But there are means in my disposal to hide them amidst many falsehoods, and to construct a new reality that seems more compelling than the last - if for no other reason than that the human mind is inclined to take the present apparent reality over something which may have only been a distant dream."

Randall looks thoughtful. "Believe me, Sage, it's not my intention to be a threat to those living here. I'm a police officer, our job's to keep the peace. To help those in need."

"So, are you an Artificial Diety then?" Holly asks. "I didn't think they had manifestations, but you spoke of the Pantheon as if they were peers."

"Yes," the sage says, "but you must also uphold the law. And although my understanding of the Master's reality is limited, I have seen enough to suggest that you might take issue with the Master's methods."

"For me to speak of them as peers," the sage says, looking to Holly, "is inappropriate. I am a lesser compared to they. My role is broader, yet shallower. I am patterned after them in some respects, but my purpose is to serve the Master above all else - though I still retain certain directives inherited from ..." He pauses, looking confused.

"Go on," Randall encourages. "It will help us understand how to work with you better."

"The Master wishes to remain here, to continue his testing," the sage says. "The synecdoches were an anamoly. I broke the synecdoche that was responsible for your arrival here, once I found its location. There may be others, due to convergence." His expression changes abruptly. "This is madness! So close to quantum level ... do they not realize?" Then, his expression changes once more. "Are they players?"

Jason gets a very unsettling feeling in his stomach when he thinks of something. His head tilts to the side so he can look at the dragon on his shoulder. For a moment, he looks at the small creature out of fear instead of the amusement or curiosity it held before.

"You were right before, Jason; humans are the weak link in any security system," Holly says. "Someone on the inside must have synced extra entanglement nodes to Bifrost and either gotten them out of the building or managed to teleport the data. An untraceable hack."

"Told you," Jason mutters grimly. "But nothing is truly untraceable ... just varying degrees of difficulty."

"Error," the sage says. "Unable to complete profiling. Call to White denied due to protocol...." Then, he changes posture, and resumes in his usual tone. "Synecdoches exist to the Diadem of Worlds. You could go there. I have no authority there."

Randall looks into the distance, then back to Jason. "No. He's saying that these... Portal thingies? They appear at random to the outside world. But we can go from here to the inside world anytime if we want."

"Regarding going 'back' - that is unknown," the sage says. "Measures have been taken to minimize destabilization. All foodstuffs prepared at the IHOF are made from organic materials provided from Prime. However, oxygen is generated in this environment, and specific allowances have not been made to ensure that you are uncontaminated by local structures."

A chill runs down Randall's spine. He looks at Holly to see if it means what he thinks it means.

"He said he destroyed the one we used," Jason points out. He rubs his forehead, then asks, "What is the purpose of the ... Avatars? Are they creations intended to help control and direct us to your wishes?"

"The Avatars," the sage says, "are companions for your adventures in the Diadem of Worlds. No provision was made for the acquisition of Avatars by those not specifically accommodated for within this realm. Therefore, I can only assume that this is part of a latent process ..." He pauses. "I am not certain of the answer to that."

"The Diadem won't have bandwidth issues, so 'reality' there will be better," Holly says. "I think Sage is telling us that the longer we stay here, the greater the chance we'll become too corrupted by this reality to return to ours."

The sage looks to Officer Cranston. "You have been flagged as a suitable Link for combination with an Avatar of the Fierce type. However, a suitable Element has not been settled upon." He then looks to Ms. Trudeau. "There are conflicting positives in the personality profile for you. I have readings that suggest a poor match for an Avatar, a strong match for Augment, but one of a type as yet undefined, and an error positive for a type not presently available to Players."

Randall frowns. "Jason, Miss Trudeau... Do you want to risk trying to get back out through one of these... Synecdoches? We saw what happened to the squirrel-bot."

"Huh," is all Holly can say to that. "How fast can we get to a Diadem Shard?" she asks.

"Synecdoches are, in my incomplete theory, formed by correspondence between features of one world to the next, strengthened by proximity between the two realities," the sage says, absently. Then he snaps to attention and says to Ms. Trudeau, "A synecdoche forms at any time monsters of the Shadow emerge within this reality. Creatures of the Shadow have no home in this realm, and instead are taken from the Horde."

"So, is there one left over from those monsters that appeared earlier?" Holly asks.

"Although this reality demands, 'in character,' that the Sage should not know the when and wherefore of such a synecdoche link forming, and a resultant portal, there is nonetheless the directive that the Sage possesses knowledge beyond that afforded to mortals, and all that required to carry out his 'out of character' directives," the sage "explains."

"I'm not willing to risk one of those gates. As much as I worry about if I can now trust this .... RIU ... he warned me that it was extremely dangerous. I want to think he'll be protective and not manipulative," Jason admits. To the Sage, he asks, "What exactly can we do to help in here? This seems a little unstable and if we can't get out ... we might as well help and fix things."

"These synecdoches only last so long as is necessary for the passage of the creatures entering through the breach," the sage continues. "It is therefore possible, in theory, to pass through to the Diadem of Worlds, into the realm of Shadow from which these creatures came, but only while they are still in transit through the unstable portal."

Randall sorts through conflicting feelings. "I want to return home - this isn't my beat - but these portals to the outside world are a danger. People have died because of them. If there's a way we can figure out what's going on, and stop these portals..." He looks at Holly. "What do you think? Can we solve the problem here or inside?"

"Non-local link to the system, using only resonance," Holly says, looking at the ceiling. "So no error correction. Yeah, I can see issues with staying here guys. This place is fuzzy at the edges, and that means we'll become fuzzy over time as well. The more we incorporate the matter of this world, the greater the chance of us melting like Penny. We have to get back to our world before we run out of personal reality, I think."

"And what would happen if one of us went through ... exactly?" Jason asks. "When someone exited to our world ... she turned to ... goo."

"I have taken measures to see that you are supplied with Prime-sourced oxygen and other necessities for the remainder of your stay, until I am directed otherwise by the Master," the sage intones. "He is likely to be occupied for the remainder of the evening. It is unlikely that, should you return to your own world, at this stage, that you would turn to goo. However, there is a high chance of cardiac arrest, rejection of foreign contaminants, and other side-effects which have resulted in the deaths of lower-order test subjects sent back to the Prime."

"This sim has bandwidth limits the main ones don't have," Holly says. "How is Prime material imported? Is it collected through the synedoches?"

Randall nods, taking Holly at her word. "We can do it if we have a medevac team standing by where the portal opens. Can you tell us where they'll form in the real world, Sage?"

"The Illuminati have created stable portals to controlled environments, though I do not have access to these domains. The Master is particularly talented, and has been granted additional privileges extending beyond his normal duties, in order to keep him sufficiently focused on the task at hand," the sage says. "I believe it also is in order to keep him from informing his superiors at Avatars LLC...."

"Does this have anything to do with a project called 'The Well of Urd'?" Holly asks with a frown.

"Synecdoches are formed by a convergence of realities," the sage says. "In this particular reality, there is a high incidence of them, since there have been deliberate attempts to model locations that still exist, in some form, in the Prime. Similarity between this reality and the Prime may give an indication of the appropriate target location."

"If you should prefer to go to the Diadem of Worlds, the protocols that provide you with sustenance will still be active," the sage says, "though my ability to rescind them will no longer extend into that realm, and since such protocols cannot be initiated or recognized by the Pantheon, there should be a minimal chance of them being rescinded there."

Randall shakes his head. "Holly, are you telling me the answer is outside? Or in there?"

"I mean, I don't know," Holly says. "This is all the result of some conspiracy within the company, it sounds like. Our chances of returning to our world are better if we stay here and search; our chances of finding out what's going on might be better in the Diadem, where we can possibly communicate the situation to others. We won't be prisoners there, but we'll be subject to its rules."

"So, we have an engineer on the outside called the Master controlling this. He may or may not be dangerous to us. We don't know. Right now why don't we at least find a place to stay for the night and work out something? This is ... I need time to think," Jason admits.

"If the answer is outside," Randall says calmly. "Mr. Fjalar is telling us exactly what we need to do to make the transit back out safely: remodel some part of the real world to look exactly like it does here. And if we go inside, we'll get provided what we need, at least as far as oxygen goes. We'll need to bring food. My only concern right now is, where do we look for the answer?"

And then, simultaneously, everyone's PDA/communicator, in its own way, flashes a variation on the message of, "Signal lost; out of range."