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1. The Leaving Party The time of day was .663 by the decimal clock; late afternoon, as anyone with their head in the present day would know. To a small minority, though, to those annoying individuals who are forever making a nuisance of themselves with their insistence on clinging to an antiquated and obsolete method of keeping time, it would be 15:55 or (even more annoyingly) five to four P.M. The date: 2342.115, which to the aforementioned reactionaries would be the 26th day of the month of April, in the year of Our Lord 2342. In a wide side-street adjoining Rue.1, the main thoroughfare of the conurbation of IL.49, the recreation house was the first feature one would notice when turning from Rue.1 into Rue.1.4, because instead of the more normal shop front advertising its officially assigned designation of Rec.17, it chose to describe itself (using language from the era it mimicked) as a, "Retro Pub." To anyone on the street outside, Rec.17 was completely silent, as was every other shop in the area. The only sounds were those originating in Rue.1.4; active soundproofing prevented noise pollution leaking from zone to zone, with only law enforcement or other officials, as appropriate, deeming it necessary to deploy relay devs that provide cross-zone communication and detection. Despite its silence, Rec.17 succeeded in not looking completely dead. Although the mandatory active soundproofing (however unnecessary it might be) was in place, one glance at the shop was enough to attract the attention of potential patrons, and was all that was needed to ensure a thriving business. The shop front was decorated in a standard, respectable style, beige and light green being rather boring in the context of the type of old-fashioned establishment it aspired to be, but the privacy glass was turned down just enough to make the movement of people inside appear as vague silhouetted figures which were impossible to discern in any detail, but did a splendid job of making the place look lively and attractive. * The break-room door opened, allowing Jonn Hamming to step forward and re-enter the public room. He made his way from the bathroom back towards his table, returning to the company of his friends after an annoying but necessary absence; no technological advancement had yet made lavatory facilities redundant. Hamming wove his way around the tables, through the silence of the room; sound isolation bubbles kept everyone's conversation (and everyone's taste in background music) completely private. No-one alive in that day and age, least of all Jonn Hamming, was aware of just how ludicrously eccentric the furniture and fittings were as an example of the time they were supposed to recall, there being, for example, no plastic whatsoever in evidence, since the licensing terms for the use of oil-derived products made such substances prohibitively expensive for most applications. The room, as a result, was constructed mainly from wood, metal and glass, a style that actually belonged to a period almost a hundred years earlier than the date that Rec.17 claimed to emulate, which was the final day of the 20th century, or 2000.365 (the year 2000 being a leap year). The metal fittings followed long, bold lines, adding to the antique feel of the decor and, in fact, doubled as electrical conductors. Most provided power for DID lighting, which meant that any form of plastic insulation was (thankfully) unnecessary, as only 0.05 volts was required by a Differential Induction Diode. Hamming reached the table that he and his friends occupied and entered the confines of the isolation bubble, his ears being immediately assaulted by loud music and even louder (necessary to be audible above the music) conversation. "Hey," Amey said as soon as he sat down beside her. She scowled in the friendly way that only she could and then said, "Your round." "No, he's not," Jiana, with a large dollop of insolence, spoke up from the opposite side of the table, "He's tall and slim, with arms and legs and a head on the top, with dark hair and nice face." "Thank you," Jonn replied, managing to slur even those two words slightly. "No, no, no, that's not what I meant," said Amey, rising to the challenge and making the other two men in their company, Matt and Fergul, snigger inanely along with Jonn in delighted anticipation; arguments between Amey and Jiana were usually very entertaining, and just as usually would border on the surreal. "That's what you said, though," argued Jiana, "You said, "You're round." How would you like it if I started accusing you of being fat?" "I didn't. I didn't say he is round. I said it's his round." "How can someone possess an adjective?" "'Round,' isn't an adjective, it's ..." "Yes, it is." "It isn't in this context. It's an abstract noun. That's what people said centuries ago, in Recs like this, when it was someone's turn to buy the drinks." "Would it not be easier just to tell them it's their turn to buy the drinks?" "I hate you sometimes," Amey looked daggers across the table, her shoulder-length blonde hair swinging from side to side in annoyance, blue eyes boring into her raven-haired adversary, who smiled sweetly in return. Both of the girls dissolved into helpless laughter. The empty glasses were piled into the service ring in the middle of the table, surrounding the light and speaker column. Jonn recited the drinks order into the directional mike band that surrounded it and, no sooner had he finished speaking, than the service ring descended out of sight, taking the dirty glasses with it. Moments later, it rose again, this time with the new order of drinks on it. Jonn made a hand gesture and his dev popped up its holoscreen in front of his face. He used his two index fingers to drag the holoscreen to the size he wanted, quickly scanned the bill, and then presented the fingerprint of his right thumb to the payment zone. His dev autoclosed immediately, with a green flash, and everyone lifted their own drink from the service ring. It was completely unnecessary, of course, to use the mike band to place an order; the whole process could be completed far more quickly, and far more easily, by using a dev to make the transaction. However, using one's voice to order drinks the old-fashioned way was one of the retro experiences that the operators of Rec.17 considered to be one of the greatest strengths of their value proposition. "Cheers," Amey said, lifting her glass to eye level and waiting for everyone to copy her. Instead, they stared in confusion. Jiana tilted her head. "What does it cheer?" she asked insolently. "Never mind," Amey responded, sounding frustrated. "To Fergul." "To Fergul," everyone echoed with various degrees of hesitation, as no- one understood the meaning of the words they were repeating, and they were doing so merely to humour Amey. "What to Fergul?" Jiana then said, posing the question everyone had on their mind. "It's a traditional toast," Amey explained with pride that she could do something to enrich her friends" knowledge of social history, "People used to raise their glasses on special occasions, and wish ..." "And drink from them," interrupted Matt, making everyone laugh at his scoring of a point. "... and wish someone long life and good health, for example," Amey resumed, trying to hide her exasperation, "And good luck. And success." "Not any more they don't, obviously," Jonn observed, "or some of us would have a clue what you're on about." "It's quite simple, really. People used to, 'Drink to the health,' of someone." "Why would anyone do that?" Jiana said, relishing the chance of another argument with Amey, "We're always being told this stuff is bad for us, so would it not be a bit stupid to, "Drink," to someone's, "Health?"" Amey sighed. "I hate you sometimes," she said. "Maybe you should just forget all these antiquated customs that no other living person has the slightest knowledge of," Jiana suggested. "Except maybe the isolationists," added Fergul, drawing a sharp intake of breath from everyone else, except Amey, whose lukewarm reaction was a surprise to everyone. Fergul had compared her to a small but significant group of people who were regarded by most as inferior, paranoid, and in possession of a primitive aversion to the obvious benefits of modern life. Her friends, including Fergul, had expected to see Amey deliver a sharp, angry glance at the very least, but there was only a distant look in her eyes, and a worryingly sentimental smile. "Are you going to let him talk to you like that?" Jiana seethed across the table. "Oh, I don't know," Amey mused, "Sometimes I think it must be nice to be an isolationist. No dev, not permanently online, less surveillance ..." "There's no such thing as, 'Less surveillance,'" Matt corrected her but Amey did not seem perturbed. "Next thing you'll be renouncing the digital clock and using old names for myths." "Months," Amey now corrected Matt. "Yeah, them." "Live in the present," Jiana told her, "you have friends here." "Okay, but I still hate you." There was the same fit of laughter as was inspired by the discussion concerning usage of the word, "Round," before Jonn changed the subject. "Anyway," he said thickly, "We're supposed to be talking about Fergul. What are Jopal and Jopal going to do now the Dream Team's breaking up?" The group of five friends: Amey, Jiana, Fergul, Matt and Jonn, were a close-knit team of surveillance developers at a new legal startup that specialised in dev fraud. Jopal and Jopal, as a legal firm, was only three years old, but was already enjoying stellar success, and many employees were enjoying a similarly stellar level of earning power. This was particularly true of the firm's central revenue-earners, such as the up-and-coming developers who created the latest in surveillance technology. The firm's so-called Dream Team was about to reduce from five members to four, with the imminent departure of Fergul, and the occasion was being marked, in Rec.17, by he and his four close colleagues, who had all been there since around .5, leaving the office a little before the start of the normal lunch break, which was often .525 to .575. Two or three hundred years ago, workers would have had what they described as a lunch "hour", another uncouth term now, thankfully, succeeded by the far more civilised lunch-oh-five, the .05 of a day where people took their main break from their desks. The time of day was now just after .65, meaning there was little point in returning so close to the end of the normal working day, and even less point in returning to their desks in their current state. Like most companies, Jopal and Jopal observed the traditional office hours of .4 to .7 (usually nicknamed, "Working four seven,") and much more civilised than the ancient, draconian system that demanded workers be present at their desks from .375 to .708, under pain of disciplinary action (another antiquated practice that has, thankfully, been eradicated, along with corporal punishment, polio and finally, just last year, SARS-CoV-7). Working conditions, as opposed to some other aspects of life, had become much more lenient and flexible. Unlike some companies, though, Jopal and Jopal were tolerant of employees who wished to mingle with such people as now frequented Rec.17; people who were engaged in another tradition, time-honoured but also generally frowned-upon: drug abuse. To be specific, they were engaged in the practice of applying a medieval toxin by the name of ethanol, to induce a pleasant and relaxed state of mind where one's inhibitions are swept away. Unfortunately, though, along with the power of speech, common sense is usually swept away at the same time. This last, regrettable, attribute of ethanol was the main contributory factor in the downfall of Jonn Hamming. * All five glasses were empty. Matt leant forward towards the centre of the table. The mike band turned amber. When Matt made the hand gesture he needed to pop up his dev's holoscreen he immediately grimaced in annoyance, as the screen had the same amber border as the mike band. His four friends all simultaneously opened their holoscreens. All five screens were framed by the same colour. "Well, that's that. Nice knowing you guys," Fergul joked, but no-one looked amused. The farewell party had come to an abrupt halt as the five were bitten by one of the downsides of being held permanently online by a dev: since their blood-ethanol level was now above the legal limit, no Rec in the world could legally serve them. The problem was insurmountable, as any further increase might be detected and both they and the operators of Rec.17 would be severely punished. The misdemeanour would only be discovered by the authorities, of course, if they happened to have placed an audit beacon nearby; without immediate audit it would be possible to disguise such a mundane transaction by placing it under another identity, but the risk of audit failure was something the Rec.17 operators would never take. "An isolationist could buy more drinks," sniffed Amey, "They're not under surveillance the way we are." "An isolationist wouldn't be able to pay for them," Jonn slurred in retort, "Not without a dev. Let's go." "Where to?" asked Jiana. "We can't just stop now." "There's nowhere we can go," Fergul said. "No-one would let us in at this level." "My place," said Matt. He winked, drawing looks of delight, but not without some small consternation, from his friends. It was illegal for any private individual to be in possession of drugs such as ethanol; apart from controlled consumption in carefully monitored premises, they could only be handled by qualified personnel. From time-to-time, though, there were a few members of the public who managed to get hold of an illicit stock of drinks; although Matt did not say so, the implication was clear to his friends that he was one such person. "Let's go, then," Amey chirped. The person who seemed the least averse to isolationism also seemed the least afraid to drift outside the law. They loaded their glasses back into the service ring and stepped into the silence of the public room. As usual, the sudden disappearance of the loud music caused a little disorientation for a brief instant, and Jiana staggered slightly. Jonn's aut was parked behind Rec.17 and they jumped into it; Jonn in the op seat, Fergul beside him and Matt between the two girls in the back. "Destination?" enquired the unwholesomely pleasant, asexual voice of the aut control unit and Jonn answered, "Rue.7.3.14, Ap.5," the address of Matt's apartment. The aut moved off, carrying its passengers into Rue.1.4, then turning left towards Rue.1, where it turned left again. The aut cruised slowly down the wide road, the main shopping street of IL.49 and the occupants watched in disinterest the sight of wealthy people bustling in and out of the various upmarket Recs, Servs, Offs and Rets that had an affluent enough clientele to be able to afford premisesc with a Rue.1 address. Whilst almost all shopping these days was performed by dev transaction, there was still a great deal of snobbery surrounding the instant service offered by old-fashioned shops, and all five were themselves easily affluent enough to be counted amongst the frequent customers of the various recreational, service and retail units that graced Rue.1. Very shortly, four of them would be able to complete that list, since Jopal and Jopal were currently engaged in negotiations to move their offices to one of the most prestigious Off units in IL.49. The next turn was into Rue.1.17 and quickly into Rue.1.17.2. Then, a little after the junction that took them into Rue.7, there was a rather longer stretch, once they had reached the corner of Rue.7.3, the first of the suburban roads. "Ever tried spiked manning?" whispered Fergul as they made their way along 7.3, causing Jonn to look round at him in wonder. Fergul could tell from the look in his eyes, though, that Jonn's surprise did not exclude an excited impulse to live on the edge. Manning, or manual control of an aut, was frowned upon at the best of times, as it overrode the multitude of safety systems built in to the aut control unit, thus introducing human error into the behaviour of the vehicle. However, spiked manning, otherwise known as poisoned manning or tainted manning, was a serious crime that carried equally severe punishment. The punishment, should the offence be audited, was as severe whether accident or injury occurred or not. The official term for spiked manning was Impaired Manual Operation, or IMO, and was defined as the assumption of manual control of any vehicle while suffering the effects of any toxin, which of course included the ethanol present in the drinks the five friends had been consuming earlier. "No, have you?" "Once or twice. You have no idea how exhilarating it can be. It's like trying to learn to walk all over again." Jonn laughed. "I can imagine," he said. Fergul continued, "You flounder for a bit, trying to get to grips with the feel of the aut, then suddenly everything comes right and you're a world-beater. It's incredible." Jonn was now looking steadily at Fergul, a greedy expression on his face. "Come on, the roads are clear, nothing but one or two parked auts around." Jonn turned his head away from Fergul, but not dismissively. Instead, he was watching the scene pass by, and thinking that Fergul was right. The streets were indeed clear. There were few hazards to be seen. "If you're ever going to try it, this is the time." Jonn sighed deeply. "You'll never get a better chance." As if on a sudden impulse, Jonn flipped up his dev's holoscreen and slurred, "Relinqush control, please. Swish to mannul." A red panel immediately appeared in the holoscreen, occupying the bulk of the screen area. There was a square with a thick border in the bottom corner, similar to the one Jonn had used to sign his drinks order. This time, however, it was a deep blood-red and was flashing menacingly. A voice came from the aut control unit in the bulkhead. "Override should not be engaged, except in emergency situations. Please confirm override." "What are you doing?" Amey suddenly shrieked, having taken until now to catch on to what was happening in the front two seats of the aut. "Bit of fun," Fergul replied nonchalantly over his shoulder. "No! You can't! Absolutely no way!" Jonn presented his thumb to the flashing red square in the corner of the holoscreen. "Confirm," he said. "Manual override confirmed." The aut immediately swerved to the side and began to slow down. Amey screamed. Matt and Jiana both gasped. "What are you doing?" Jiana said in exactly the same frightened tone as Amey. "Don't do this!" Amey yelled. "Put it back on full aut, now!" "Take it easy till you get used to it," Fergul said to Jonn, completely ignoring the protests from the back. Jonn was too busy trying to get his dev to communicate the correct thoughts to the manual control module of the aut, to be able to take much notice of what was going on around him. He was having difficulty keeping a steady speed, although the aut was no longer swerving from side to side the way it had initially done. "That's better," Fergul said encouragingly, as their speed began to level out. "Almost like being in aut mode, isn't it?" "Stop this right now!" Amey continued to protest, "Either put it back on full aut, or stop and let me out." There were murmurs of agreement from the other two rear passengers. Neither Jonn nor Fergul replied, because at that point, a dog ran out from behind one of the auts that had been turned off at the edge of Rue.7.3. "Maybe you'd better stop, " Fergul said, turning his head to look at Jonn, but also looking sideways at Amey, who by now was leaning forward in protest, red-faced, and had her hand on her restraint manual release, having half a mind to invade the front of the aut to bring it back under the control of someone who was, if not in full possession of her faculties, at least not completely stupid. "Okay," Jonn replied, sounding contrite, "I'll pull up." The aut, instead of slowing down, lurched forward, gaining speed at an alarming rate. "Shit!" Jonn exclaimed and the aut immediately began to slow down under emergency braking protocol. It was too late. A girl, who looked to be in her mid teens, had run out from behind the same aut, following the dog who, moments, earlier, had crossed their path. The aut did not stop in time to avoid a collision. There was a sickening thud from the bodywork and an even more horrifying sight of the girl, who somehow had had time to turn her head and look Jonn in the eye, being thrown over the front corner, becoming limp in mid-air, and landing on the road adjacent to the aut like a pile of lifeless rags. The aut pulled to a stop, half an instant too late, and every DID lamp on the control unit turned red. "Emergency!" the annoying voice screamed. "Collision detected. Audit required. Emergency!" Jonn sat in shock. His head turned from the red lights on the control unit to the lifeless body on the road and back again. He repeated the same pointless exercise several times before Fergul finally came to his senses and tried to take control of the situation. "Don't get out," he said sharply. "And don't switch it back to full aut. Keep it manned, or it'll go into lockdown. Look." Fergul leant across Jonn and watched the girl for a few moments. The others all copied his movements in one form or another; some having to lean over more than others in order to stare out of the aut windows in horror. Amey began to whimper in despair. "She's moving," Fergul said in relief. "She's probably okay. We need to go see a friend of my brother's. It's only a few streets from here. He ..." "We can't leave her!" Jiana shouted angrily. "She could be dying. We have to help her!" "If she's dying, there's nothing we can do," Fergul yelled in reply. "Except fail audit." Jiana glared bitterly at Fergul but did not protest again. "He works for an aut maintenance company," Fergul continued, this time more calmly, "He'll know how to do a factory reset of the control unit, wipe the audit data. We just need to be careful we don't pass too close to any audit beacons while the data's still live. Move forward, Jonn, take it slow. Keep an eye out for beacons." Jonn did not have time to re-engage the manual control module before Amey, who had all this time been quietly sobbing in the rear, now spoke, her voice shaking with terror. "It's no use," she whimpered, "haven't you seen it?" She was staring through the window. Everyone now followed her line of sight and their hearts sank. There, on the other side of the road, opposite the point where Jonn's aut had struck the girl, barely visible between two parked auts, was the ominous gunmetal cone of a portable audit beacon, its single indicator, a faint red DID, glowing atop. "Oh, hell," said Matt from the back seat and the five friends looked from one to another in a mixture of dejection and fear. It had now become clear that the last few moments had witnessed the ruin of the entire group; none of their lives could possibly be left unscathed by the repercussions of today's events. Before anyone had the chance to say another word, a black aut glided into view at the junction ahead. Fergul and Jonn both immediately glanced over their shoulders to see another, identical aut, approaching from behind. "There's another behind us, isn't there?" Matt said in a hushed voice. Fergul looked him steadily and seriously in the eye, wordlessly communicating the affirmative. The aut at the junction ahead turned into Rue.7.3 and proceeded slowly towards them, stopping about three aut lengths away. The doors swung upwards and two people stepped onto the road. Both were clad in dark grey armoured uniforms, with round helmets fitted with privacy visors: officers of the Audit Force. When privacy visors were fully engaged, as they were at present, it was impossible to see the face of the person wearing it; no member of the group could tell which of their number were subject to the gaze of the auditor. This, more than anything else, was what made these officers so intimidating. One of the approaching figures, presumably the more senior of the two, made the familiar hand gesture and a holoscreen popped up, with the ominous black border that signified an official dev. Immediately, the DID cluster on the audit beacon turned bright green, indicating it had assumed an upload indicator function, and began flashing rapidly. A panel in the corner of the audit officer's dev matched it for colour and rhythm. Meanwhile the other officer approached the girl, tapping at his own holoscreen as he examined her. He did not look up. The first auditor continued to walk slowly towards Jonn's aut while red lettering scrolled up through his holoscreen. The DID indication piping, running around the aut just below the windows, making it visible inside and out, turned red, confirming the occupants" worst fears; that the aut was being placed under emergency lockdown. The doors clunked at the same time and the control unit voice simulator spoke again, "Emergency response confirmed. Secured." A blue square appeared in the corner of the auditor's holoscreen and his finger hovered over it. There was very little movement of the auditor's helmet; it seemed to rise a fraction, as if his attention had shifted from holoscreen to aut, or more likely to the occupants of the aut. The movement did nothing to inspire expectations of friendliness. Those feelings were vindicated when the blue square was touched and the DID piping around the aut changed from red to blue, signifying disaster response. The final few moments that Jonn ever spent in the company of his four friends ended with all five blacking out, pending arbitration of custody. 2. The Smith-Hanover Procedure "Everyone here? No-one left outside?" There was a quiet hubbub from the students assembled in the lecture theatre, but no voice was raised in dissent. "Good. Closing the attendee list." Professor Ruben Forrester looked up, and scanned the room over the top of his holoscreen. He glanced down, tapped a few times and it disappeared at the same time as the entrance doors to the theatre turned black. Before he spoke again, Prof. Forrester moved a short distance to the side and called up his screen once more. This time he angled it a little towards himself, a bit like a lectern, and anchored it in that position, leaving himself free to move without having it constantly in front of him. He also linked his dev to the large holoscreen built into the lecture theatre, which then appeared above his head, near the wall behind the bench. "Final year Medicine. Advanced surgical techniques. Lecture nineteen: the Smith-Hanover Procedure." As he began to speak, his students hastily tapped at their own holoscreens, making notes and capturing images they believed would be useful for study, or were merely of interest. "I expect you will all be aware of the pioneering research of Leo Smith and Anne Hanover around seventy years ago. Smith and Hanover were, quite simply, one of the most innovative and groundbreaking partnerships medical science has ever seen. "They are regarded by most as being far ahead of their time and are credited with a great many advances, some of which are still at the forefront of our knowledge, almost forty years after their deaths, which is quite an accolade to lay at anyone's feet. "Among their greatest work, and perhaps their single greatest achievement, is the outcome of what we call the Smith-Hanover experiment." Prof. Forrester paused briefly as a murmur of restlessness fluttered around the theatre. "Yes, as I expected most of you, if not all of you, are familiar with the Smith-Hanover procedure, its various applications, and the endless argument around ethics and morality that follows in its wake and, more often than not, arises from its very mention. "In this lecture, we are concerned only with the technical aspects. Although I will briefly touch the ethical issues surrounding Smith- Hanover, as it is often called, there will be no time to discuss them in any great detail. Fear not, though! because you will have ample opportunity to agonise and moralise during the remainder of your ethics lectures and tutorials, which, you will no doubt be delighted to learn, I will be taking from now on. For my sins." There was a small ripple of laughter. Prof. Forrester smiled briefly, then continued. "Observe," he said and called up a three dimensional holographic image of an adult male, in a prone position, as if unconscious. He launched into a brief summary of the central nervous system, but concentrating on the electrical activity behind its function, and the stimulus-response mechanism that propagated signals to and from the brain. His students listened politely without much note- taking activity. This material they knew well, having covered it in detail in first year. The image then zoomed in on the head and the parts of the brain lit up in different colours, to represent each lobe. Tackling each in turn, Prof. Forrester described its structure and subdivision, sometimes dissecting it as far down as lobules, but always concentrating on its electrical activity. By half way through, the professor had described both the cerebrum and cerebellum in humans with enough detail to make clear just how important the tiny patterns of electrical stimuli were to a healthy, living brain. "Now," he said and a greater hush descended over the audience. This was the part everyone had been waiting for. * Reality faded back into existence around Jonn Hamming. He found himself lying on an uncomfortable bed, having virtually no padding over its hard surface, in a small chamber, decorated (if it were possible to use the word, "Decorated," to describe such grim, depressing surroundings) in a nondescript beige. A woman wearing a white coat stepped away from him. She was holding a hypodermic infuser and had clearly administered a drug that had woken him. The last thing he remembered was seeing the DID indicator strip on his aut turning from red to blue, just as he passed out. He looked around. Another woman, a burly guard this time, was standing on the left hand side of the bed, opposite the woman in the white coat. There were two doors on adjacent walls; one, which he could see past his feet, was armoured metal, and must be the route to freedom. Presumably that had been his entrance into this chamber and he thought it unlikely that he would pass through it in a conscious state. The other, behind the woman with the hypodermic, was wooden, relatively flimsy, and he guessed correctly that he was about to use it. His gaze shifted to the woman in the white coat, who Jonn guessed was a doctor. She was not someone who could easily be described as petite, but compared to the figure on the opposite side of the bed, she was slender and delicate. She had light brown hair and grey, piercing eyes that looked back emotionlessly at Jonn. He got the impression that her apparent lack of feeling was because her emotions were well-buried with much practice, rather than being completely non-existent. "Where am I?" Jonn said in confusion. "You're in Chicago, in the court buildings of the Audit Force," the doctor replied. "You have fifteen minutes." "Fifteen minutes? What's that?" Jonn responded and the woman raised one eyebrow. "Sorry. I assumed, since the crime involved manning an aut, that you were an isolationist. It can be difficult to tell the difference sometimes, as your dev has been disabled. You are in IL.1, Gov.3 and you have point-oh-one." "Until?" "I have administered a reliever. The dose is sufficient to keep you out of stasis for that period of time." Jonn's face, if it were possible, fell even further. "And then?" "When the reliever wears off, you will return to stasis. My advice would be to make sure you are lying down by then." "Yeah. What now?" "We go upstairs for sentence to be passed," came a slow growl from behind. Jonn half glanced over his shoulder, then back at the doctor. He was sure he caught a flash of pity in those steel-grey eyes, but then the shutters came back down again and he was alone. "Have I ... am I ..." Jonn tried to begin to ask a question but all of a sudden found he was unable to pull his thoughts together. "Your audit was completed a few point-ohs ago. You failed," the gruff voice again spoke and this time Jonn felt his upper arm gripped far more firmly than necessary, before he was dragged roughly to his feet and around the bed towards the wooden door. The guard pulled it open, then manhandled her prisoner into position in front of herself, in the short corridor beyond the doorway. She released his arm, but immediately prodded him in the small of the back, prompting him to ascend the staircase that presented itself at the far end of the corridor, her considerable bulk blocking any chance of retreat. Jonn ascended the stairway to find himself in a cage, near the front of a court room. The first thing he saw as he looked around made his heart both leap for joy and ache with sorrow. A few metres away began twenty or so rows of seats, and in the front row, as close as it was possible to get to where Jonn now stood, a beautiful woman looked tearfully at him from the first moment he came into view, and drew a reciprocal gaze from him. Her lovely face, although somewhat marred by red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, regained every iota of its beauty at that wonderful, bittersweet moment her husband made eye contact with her. Any accusation in her stare she struggled hard to suppress. Jonn made the most of the time remaining to him; his eyes never left Korine, and she was of similar mind. He saw her mouthing his name and replied with a silent, "I'm sorry, darling," before a voice interrupted them with a harsh cry of, "Stand." The guard, who had followed him into the cage and now stood beside him, pulled his shoulders around to make him face the other way. Only then did he catch a fleeting glimpse of the other two people present in the public gallery; a man and a woman, sitting close together as if for comfort. They rose to their feet at the same time Jonn was forced to turn; neither looked at him. He knew exactly who they must be: the parents of the girl he had knocked down. A small man with an unfriendly face appeared above the bench at the front of the court room and stared distastefully down at Jonn. "Jonn Farrell Hamming," the man said, "ID IL.019.32B.675.163. Confirm." He stared at Jonn, who replied, "Confirmed." "Audit IL.2342.177.374. Result: failure. Grounds for failure: Impaired Manual Operation of automatic vehicle, resulting in death." Jonn's knees buckled. The girl had died. The burly guard at his side returned her vice-like grip to his upper arm and he stayed on his feet. There was a sobbing sound coming from behind and to his left. The girl's mother. "Identity of victim: Marna Vicker, ID IL.022.14F.825.172, Neumann State: five, vegetative. Recommendations arising: death of IL.022.14F.825.172 arrested at Neumann State One. Victim is eligible for reanimation. Actions arising: reanimation by IL.019.32B.675.163. Audit closed." A second sobbing now joined the first. Korine. The guard had not released her grip and once more Jonn felt himself being pulled towards and back down the stairs. With great effort, he turned enough to take one last look at Korine, as his 100 day pregnant wife leant forward as far as she was able, wishing desperately that she could catch hold of his hand, touch him one last time. Moments later, all but the ceiling of the court room was out of sight and never again did Jonn breathe the same air as Korine. Neither did he see the tearful, sympathetic look exchanged by the two women in the gallery, bereaved wife and bereaved mother, as they shared a mutual empathy for the tragic events that had unfolded over the past two days. Their brief bond was broken by the husband, who, still having his arm around his wife, made his feelings clear with a sharp tug on her shoulder. Jonn reached the chamber below to find the doctor still waiting. "Point- double-oh-nine," she said, "You should lie down." Jonn complied. He lay on his back, waiting, trying to hold on to the beautiful image of Korine's face until the very last point of time that his relief would last. Without allowing the picture in his mind to fade, he stammered, "Will I be able to ..." The doctor took a step forward and examined him. "Stasis," she said and the guard nodded curtly. She called up her holoscreen and pressed her thumb to the square that was already in the corner when it opened. Immediately both occupants of the room heard the deadlocks releasing the armoured door. It opened and two men, both in white coats similar to the doctor's, came in. One used his dev to anchor the bed to himself. It lifted about a centimetre from the floor and then followed his every movement as he exited the chamber into the corridor and led both it and Jonn Hamming's prostrate form back to the stasis room. The other white- coated man, and the guard, left in his wake. * "Anne Hanover's background was brain surgery," Prof. Forrester continued, and Leo Smith was originally a theoretical physicist, but who, in the later stages of his career, found himself spending more and more time in the laboratory, and concentrating more and more on technology capable of supporting medicine, particularly surgery. These two did a great deal of work into researching brain damage and brain death, and they made several important discoveries in this field. They were particularly interested in finding techniques that would allow brain surgeons to operate on conditions that were previously believed to be inoperable. "You will be familiar, by now, with the six Neumann states of consciousness. Neumann State Five is what we are all in at the moment, or at least I hope so. I must confess, though, it is far from unknown for students to find themselves transitioning into Neumann State Four during my lectures." Another gentle ripple of laughter wound its way around the theatre, making Prof. Forrester smile uncertainly to himself. He could never be completely sure whether his students were laughing with, or at, him. "State three, managed coma, is the lowest that is generally deemed to be acceptable. Those of you who become surgeons will routinely work with patients who are in this state, and the future anaesthetists among you will be responsible for the safe transitioning of patients to and from Neumann State Three. "Then we have the problematic states: state two, trauma induced coma, usually the result of concussion or shock. It is our main objective to get the patient at least as high as state three as soon as possible. I will return to state one in a moment; this will be the subject of the remainder of the lecture. Then, of course, there is state zero. None of us ever want a patient transitioning to Neumann State Zero whilst in our care." The tacit agreement of every student in the theatre was almost deafening. "One of our few remaining problems with brain surgery, as you will be aware, is keeping the patient alive during extensive, invasive operations. When Dr. Sven Neumann, roughly a hundred years ago, identified his six states, he provided a theoretical basis to define this problem. He postulated the existence of a level of consciousness between coma and death, where it is possible to prevent transition to state zero, but impossible to restore someone to full cognitive function after they have entered this condition. Until Neumann's work was published, this was almost always confused with brain damage, which is of course unrelated to the six Neumann states. "Over the past two or three hundred years, we have developed the ability to repair almost any damage to the brain, yet not enough, it seems, to be able to restore all of our patients to health, and as our capabilities expand, it seems we are exposing this problem more and more. There are a great many, far too many, cases where the patient recovers to a permanently vegetative state, with perfect autonomous function, and will respond to most stimuli, but only in the most basic way. He or she has no will. "For an explanation of this phenomenon, we must look to the research of Anne Hanover." * Jonn woke again. He was lying on the same bed; at least as far as he could tell, but he was definitely not in the same room. It was coloured in the same dreary beige as the court antechamber, but this time it was much more spacious, and one wall was completely black. Privacy glass, he surmised. A guard sat near the armoured door, but this time provided with a chair. It was a different guard; a man, but no smaller than she who had shepherded him into and out of the cage at IL.1, Gov.3. Another doctor, also a man, walked away from Jonn and joined the guard to sit in the empty chair next to his. Their seats were on a part of the floor that looked different from the rest; it had the appearance of being hard and level, whereas most of the room seemed to suffer from a lack of definition. Moments later, Jonn found out why. Without warning, the privacy glass was turned fully down to reveal Korine, who was seated in a much smaller but much more comfortable room on the other side of the glass. As soon as they saw each other, Korine rose from her chair and rushed to the window, almost falling against it. Jonn swung his feet onto the floor and lurched towards her as if drunk. The floor was padded and it was like trying to walk on a trampoline. Finally they were able to put their hands together, though the glass was always in the way. Their heads could almost touch, and they could mouth words to each other, though not hear each other's voices. They were a centimetre apart, but could not feel the warmth of each other's body. Painfully slowly, they were able to communicate by lip-reading. "What's going to happen?" "I love you." "I'll never see you again, will I?" "I'm sorry." * "Dr. Hanover, as we have already discussed, studied electrical activity in the brain. In her research, she came up with what, at the time, earned her the reputation of being something of a crackpot: she claimed to have identified and isolated what we call the, "Life force," or, as it has been called for millennia, "The soul."" A curious sound came from the auditorium at this point; most of the students shifted uncomfortably in their seats at the mention of the word, "Soul." "The concept of the soul is something which scientists, including those of the medical profession, have been inclined to dismiss for centuries. However, Dr. Hanover and Dr. Smith claimed to have proven its existence, and they have a growing number of fellow scientists who are willing to accept their results as credible. Myself included. Allow me to explain. "Dr. Hanover was of the opinion that the soul is an abstract life form, and that our souls are attached to us because they anchor themselves to the electrical activity in the brain, and that they both feed off, and influence it. She hypothesised that Neumann State One is where the brain's activity reduces to a low enough level for the soul no longer to have an anchor point, and thus disengages itself from the body. "In trying to prove this experimentally, she and Dr. Smith performed what we call the Smith-Hanover experiment. Dr. Smith designed a high- power directional aerial, almost like an electromagnetic gun, and by generating a sequence of pulses modelled on the patient's normal brain activity, used it to provide what the Smith-Hanover technique describes as an attachment point. The technique uses two aerials with their signals crossing. Each signal is slightly weaker than that of the brain, but constructive interference between the two provides a tiny spot where the signal is much stronger. The soul anchors to the crossover point and can be lifted out and held indefinitely. "This enables us to perform operations that hitherto were impossible, because in the past the patient would become vegetative if brain activity fell below the critical upper threshold of Neumann State One. Dr. Hanover has explained why that is the case, and together with Dr. Smith has given us the means to avoid it, because after we restore the patient to full physical health, we can then then restore him or her to consciousness. "Thanks to the Smith-Hanover technique, modern surgeons have a theoretically unlimited time window to perform an operation. As long as we can avoid Neumann State Zero, we need only stabilise the patient at state two or higher, and then the soul can be returned. The crossover point of the aerials is lowered until it coincides with its original starting position, within the patient's cranial dome. When the aerials are powered down, the soul anchors to the brain's electrical activity as before. The operation is successful and the patient survives. Questions?" * Jonn laid his hand on the glass, centimetres from where the slight bulge of Korine's belly was beginning to show. She broke down in tears. He lifted his hand and placed it near her face. She looked up. Still looking her in the eye, he placed his hand against hers, but this time with difficulty. His hand was slowly slipping downwards and he struggled to keep it in place. Korine's face was becoming indistinct, as were his surroundings. He saw her mouthing, "I love you," to him, but failed to respond. He lost his battle with stasis and collapsed. The privacy glass engaged fully as he fell and his wife did not see him hit the padded floor. * "Thank you," Prof. Forrester said, "but I'm afraid there is no time for any further questions, because I want to spend the last few point-ohs discussing a recent, and more controversial, application of the Smith- Hanover technique. Reanimation." There was now a much greater shuffling and general unrest from the auditorium. Reanimation was indeed a controversial subject, and made most people feel uncomfortable. "We have covered the most common use of Smith-Hanover, the use for which it was intended at conception. However, there is one more possibility we have not yet discussed. What if we placed the soul into a different body and allowed it to anchor there?" There were now definite signs and sounds of discomfort among the students. "Obviously, it would have to be a body that had no soul attached; in other words, the body of a patient who had entered Neumann State One at some point." Prof. Forrester paused and looked around the auditorium before continuing, "Such as the innocent victim of an accident, for example." He could see no sign of any lessening of the passive hostility of the bulk of his audience. "Using Smith-Hanover to perform a reanimation is illegal in every country in the world, although there are a handful of countries where it may of course be deployed by the authorities. In the US, reanimation is only used in IL, although some other states are observing closely. The conditions surrounding its use are extremely strict, and currently the only circumstance in which it can legitimately be used is where the victim of a crime enters Neumann State One, but can be prevented from transitioning to Zero, and where the perpetrator of the crime survives at state two or above. "The terminology of reanimation defines the donor as the person whose soul is removed; this would be the person guilty of the crime. The host is the person who is to be reanimated; the victim. These definitions refer, of course, to the two physical bodies. At the start of the procedure, the donor is normally in stasis, and the host would be in Neumann State Five, but vegetative. "The Smith-Hanover technique is used to extract the soul from the donor, then move it to the host's cranial dome before releasing it, allowing it to anchor to the host. Once this has been done, the host immediately awakens and becomes their normal self. There is no discernible difference between the person they are at that point, and the person they were before the incident leading to the circumstances of reanimation. They have all their own memories, their own personality, everything. They have no knowledge of ever, "Being", if you like, the donor, and this is because they never were the donor. The soul, the life force, is simply that part of us that gives us our initiative and intuition. In this respect, reanimation is no different from an organ transplant. "The donor, on the other hand, now becomes vegetative. When released from stasis, he or she will return to Neumann State Five, and will transition between states four and five as normal, but when awake will have no drive; no will to do anything. They will be in the same condition the host was in before reanimation. The donor will then be given a fatal infusion and the body turned over to the family for cremation. "Now, we're almost out of time, so we can only have one or two questions. Anyone?" "On the subject of reanimation, I have read a couple of papers that discussed something called, 'Memory artefacts,'" a student near the back of the room asked, "Where memories belonging to the donor are sometimes experienced by the host. Is this the case?" "There have been a small number, and I should emphasise that it is a very small number indeed, of instances where a host has claimed to have had flashbacks of the donor's life. However, these usually fade quickly and no ill after-effects have been recorded in any of the cases. Psychologists believe they result from prior knowledge of the donor, perhaps things the host has learnt since reanimation, or things they already knew, but have forgotten, and are now imagining they're seeing from the donor's perspective. A surprisingly high number of hosts knew the donor beforehand." "What is a total return?" "Something that doesn't exist. Although total return is something that worries a great many people, I can assure you that it is merely a theoretical problem, postulated as the logical conclusion of the phenomenon of memory artefacts, which are themselves disputed. It has only been claimed to have occurred once, but that was during one of the earliest tests, under conditions that have since resulted in that particular test being discredited. My advice to you would be to forget all about total return, unless, of course, you're planning on writing a science-fiction novel. Then you can think and say whatever you like. "That's time up, folks, thank you." There was a polite smattering of applause, as was customary at the end of a lecture. Prof. Forrester returned to his holoscreen to open the doors as the students rose and began filing towards the exits. A message caught his attention, making him hesitate. "One more thing, before we break up," he called and the entire class stopped to listen. He opened the doors while he was speaking but everyone remained to hear what he had to say, "I've just received a request from Gov.3 to act as senior surgeon overseeing a reanimation just under point-oh-four from now. I can take one student with me to observe. Is anyone interested?" One female student, who had been sitting in the front row listening attentively, raised her hand. Everyone else turned and made their way out, but slowly, not wanting to appear disrespectful. "Jennine," he said, "excellent. Meet me in my office as soon as you can, please. We need to leave straight away." 3. Reanimation Grad Vicker pulled his collar a little tighter with his free hand. His wife clung to his other arm as they struggled slowly through the cold drizzle and wind that, if not quite bad enough to be described as biting, was at least making a good job of nipping at exposed skin. She leant against him as they walked. Neither had said a word since their decision to brave the elements in a hopeful but vain effort to clear their heads. "Nearly point-six-seven," Annah said. "We should get back," Grad replied, "if the reanimation's scheduled for point-seven-five." The couple turned and retraced their steps towards Gov.3. A few metres short of the main entrance, Annah stopped. She was still clinging to her husband's arm, making him halt too. She turned to look up at him. He had never seen anyone look so frightened. "Grad, What if this doesn't work?" "It'll work. It has to." "But what if it doesn't? What if we don't get her back? What if something goes wrong and she dies?" His response was to put his hand behind her head and pull her towards him, kissing her on the forehead. He could think of nothing to say that would not be either patronising or counter-productive. "Grad, I need Marna back. I need to be able to tell her I love her." "You will." "The last time we spoke, we were arguing. That's why she stormed out of the ap. She mustn't have been looking when she ran across the road. It's all my fault." "No, it's not. Don't you ever think that. It's that stupid man's fault, not yours. He'd no right to do what he did." "But if we lose her ..." "We'll still have each other." "But will we? Will we really?" Grad stared back at her with a worried and uncomfortable look. "Do you know how many marriages fall apart after the death of a child? Especially when it's an only child?" "Annah, please don't talk like that. We need each other more than ever right now." "Grad, I'm scared we lose everything because of this. Each other too." "All we can do is get through today and hope everything works out, for Marna's sake. If anything goes wrong, we'll deal with it, if and when it happens. Okay? That's all we can do." The conversation was briefly interrupted by the arrival of an expensive aut, a Chrysler-Royce, in front of Gov.3. It pulled into a reserved space and two people alighted; a late-middle-aged man and a young woman. They hurried into the building, the man stopping to let his companion enter first. Annah looked at them with a knowing expression, but was corrected by her husband who grunted in recognition. "Do you know them?" she asked. "I know him. Seen him on NEWS. Professor Reuben Forrester. He's one of the leading experts in reanimation." "Oh." "We'd better hurry. They'll be here for the same reason as us." Jennine and Prof. Forrester were nowhere to be seen by the time Grad and Annah had entered the building and were walking across the atrium towards the security desk. The guard looked up suspiciously at them (it was the same guard who had been on duty when they had left), then nodded and smiled grimly at them. He recognised them instantly, and knew full well that they had every right to be there, but still followed exactly the correct identification protocol, checking the security holoscreen after the system had scanned their faces. For all he knew, their access might have been revoked even as they were walking towards him. "Two point seventeen, please," the guard said but Grad and Annah hesitated, looking uncertain. "You're expected in room Gov.3.2.17. Through there and down, then follow the instructions." He pointed to his left towards one of the doorways leading from the atrium. The first three levels of Gov.3 were underground, so Gov.3.2 was the second basement level, the atrium being on level Gov.3.4. "Thank you," Annah replied and Grad nodded his acknowledgement. Hand in hand, they made their way through the doors, which unlocked and slid open automatically as they approached. These were the only doors that would have opened for them, and would not have done so had the camera spotted any unauthorised person in the vicinity. This was the route leading to the one room in Gov.3 to which Grad and Annah had been granted access. Beyond the doors, they found a stairwell and an elevator, whose doors opened as they passed. They decided to take the lift, rather than the stairs, because they did not know their way around, and it would automatically take them to the correct place. As soon as they entered, the doors closed. There was no warning, as no-one was close enough to be in danger of being struck by them. Almost immediately, though, a voice told them the elevator was about to descend. It did, taking a very short time to reach their destination floor, so smooth and so rapid was its acceleration and deceleration. The doors opened and a DID cluster lit up on the opposite wall, forming an arrow pointing to the right. "Turn right, please," they were instructed by the same voice, now emanating from somewhere in the corridor. It and the elevator both sounded very like the voice of an aut control unit. A blind man would have had no trouble finding his way. Grad and Annah followed the corridor past a succession of locked doors, but about half way along, when they reached their destination, they were recognised by the security system of one of the rooms with a door bearing the inscription IL Gov.3, and below that the numbers 2.17. The doors unlocked and opened exactly as had done the exit from the atrium, only this time the familiar asexual voice invited them, "Access authorised. Please enter." Annah rushed forwards. There were several people already in the room: in addition to the man and the woman they had seen enter the building just ahead of them, were two guards, one officer of the Audit Force (who, unusually, had his privacy visor turned completely up) and several other people, all but one of whom wore white coats. The last person stood in the background, silently observing. Annah, though, did not seem to notice any of them. She was focused entirely on one of the two beds. There, staring apathetically at the ceiling, lay a teenage girl. It was lost on both Annah and Grad at the time, but an officer of the Audit Force, when indoors, and particularly in a official, secure location, would at least have the privacy glass on their helmet turned completely down, making his or her face visible, or, more likely, would be wearing no helmet at all. Not only was the face obscured, the uniform carried no identification. Normally, the officer's authority number would both be found on epaulettes, and printed in a larger typeface on the uniform's back, but there was nothing. This officer was completely anonymous. By the time Annah reached the bed her face was soaked in tears. "Oh, God," she sobbed, gently stroking the girl's forehead and smoothing her dark brown hair, "Marna, my baby, ..." any further words were lost, drowned in the waters of despair. The audit officer and the mysterious figure in the background both stood impassively; the others in the room busied themselves, trying to appear oblivious to the mother's torment. Only Grad, who was following a few steps behind, seemed to take any notice. He put his arm around his wife and looked grimly down at his daughter. The girl's only reaction was to glance in disinterest at their faces for a few moments, before her eyes wandered off to resume their study of nothing in particular. Her mother cried even harder. "Self-test complete. No faults," a voice came from the centre of the room. Annah seemed not to notice, continuing to stare in sorrow at her daughter. Grad looked up, sensing something was about to happen. Most of the white-coated figures were clustered around the other bed, where the unconscious figure of a man lay. On either side were two long white tubes, each pointing diagonally and downwards at the man's head. As Grad watched, the two tubes raised their aim so that they now pointed about a metre higher than before, then returned to their original positions. The only discernible conversation in the room was between Professor Forrester and his student. "So," said the professor, "this is presumably your first real look at Smith-Hanover equipment?" Jenine nodded. "The long tubes are (as you will presumably have realised) the aerials. When they raise and lower, the control unit moves them on a shallow elliptical path, to ensure that the distance from each aerial to the crossover point remains constant. This is important because constructive interference must be maintained, otherwise the anchor point would be lost." "Dry run complete. No faults," another voice added before addressing Prof. Forrester, "Professor?" The professor opened his dev's holoscreen and prodded it, occasionally scrolling up some text. Jennine moved closer so that both could read the screen, and she could see what he was doing. They now spoke quietly to each other, although most of the talking was done by the professor, while Jennine mostly nodded, or gave short or single-word answers. Presently Prof. Forrester looked up. "Excellent," he said, "I believe we're ready." "No," said the man who had been standing in the background. "Wait, please." The man's holoscreen was open, showing the black border of an official. He was watching a string of numbers counting upwards; everyone stopped and waited for him to speak again. Presently he did. "Point seven five," he said, "Actions arising from audit IL.2342.177.374: reanimation of IL.022.14F.825.172 by IL.019.32B.675.163. Proceed." There was a holoscreen at the far side of the bed, adjacent to one of the cylinders, seemingly belonging to it. One of the white coats now tapped at it a few times and a low hum became audible. The two cylinders followed the same movement as before, but this time there was a feeling of tension pervading the whole room and affecting everyone in it. Mr. and Mrs. Vicker sensed it too, and for the first time since entering, Annah's attention left her daughter's catatonic form. "Look," Prof. Forrester said to his student, quietly, but heard by all. He was pointing slightly upwards, at the crosspoint of the vectors along which the two cylinders were directed, "Can you see it?" Jennine peered at the point her professor indicated, about a metre above the bed. There, barely discernible, was a very slight, intangible distortion of some kind, like a tiny heat haze. "What is that?" Jennine asked, her voice hushed. "Some people will tell you it's just visual distortion caused by the intersection of the beams," Prof. Forrester replied, "But the beams are electromagnetic, and are therefore invisible at the frequency they are operating. You'll have to make up your own mind what you believe it to be." Jennine did not reply, but instead turned her head slowly to look at the professor, holding his eyes for several moments. While professor and student were talking, the white coats had continued to make themselves busy. The bed with the man lying on it was removed and taken to the far side of the two cylinders. They now moved the other bed, repositioning it and its occupant, the girl, between the cylinders in place of the first. Annah initially moved protectively towards her daughter when she saw them approach, but her husband held her reassuringly and whispered something as they watched. Annah stood helplessly, both hands covering her nose and mouth. The bed was positioned and the cylinders began to lower again, stopping once they were pointing directly at the girl's head. "Alignment?" said the doctor at the Smith-Hanover equipment's holoscreen. Prof. Forrester now seemed to be taking charge. "Alignment left to right is good," the professor replied without looking up from his own holoscreen. "And vertically. I'd be happier if you repositioned a fraction further from the parietal, though." The two cylinders shifted a millimetre or two towards the foot of the bed, a barely discernible movement, but Prof. Forrester immediately nodded. "That's perfect," he said. "I agree," responded the doctor at the Smith-Hanover holoscreen, "Powering down." The low hum from the Smith-Hanover aerials had not been a particularly invasive sound, but when it stopped it was very noticeable. The less experienced of those present, Jannine, Grad and Annah, opened their eyes a fraction wider and automatically glanced at the machine from which the sudden silence had emanated. Two white coats made the bed hover, feet first, from between the aerials, and then tilted it, so that the girl was lying at an angle. Annah began to walk, tentatively and slowly, towards her. The girl's eyes were now closed, but there was the beginning of movement in her face. Her fingers began to twitch. Her eyes flickered slightly and then opened. She looked around in confusion. Her mouth gaped and she began to breath erratically. Her eyes were now wide open in terror and she seemed as if she were tying to scream but could not catch her breath properly. "Marna," Mrs. Vicker said in a pleading voice. Pleading with the girl to be aware. Pleading with the girl to look at her. Pleading with the girl to know who she was. First the beautiful almond-shaped face turned towards them, then brown eyes, like wells of tears, found the source of the voice. Her breathing steadied itself just long enough for her to utter a single syllable. "Mom!" She tried to walk forward from the bed and immediately collapsed. The two doctors had remained, one at each elbow, and were ready. They caught her arms and steadied her, helping her back to her feet. By this time, Annah was almost there and was close enough for the girl to attempt one more step and fall again, but this time into her mother's arms. Marna threw her own arms around her mother and buried her face, weeping wretchedly onto her shoulder. Annah herself was now crying in a mixture of happiness and relief. Her daughter was safe in her arms; she would not (and could never have) let her go. Grad moved to stand beside them and put his arms around both, being immediately rewarded by the blissful feeling of both his wife and his daughter allowing their weight to rest against him. None of the three; father, mother, daughter, were aware of much else that was taking place around them. The professor, his student and all the white coats clustered around the first bed, examining the man. He was given permanent release from stasis, and observed for a short while before the most senior of the doctors, with the concurrence of Prof. Forrester, officially declared Jonn Farrell Hamming, IL.019.32B.675.163, to be Neumann State Five, vegetative. "Could you follow me, please?" the senior doctor interrupted the Vicker family. Only then did the three notice that there were just six people remaining in the room; themselves and the doctor who was addressing them, plus the official who had formally ordered Marna's reanimation and the anonymous Audit Force officer. "I'm Dr. Parret," he said, leading them from the room into the corridor. The sound of their footsteps faded, leaving the two officials alone with the lifeless form of Jonn Hamming. They waited, motionless, and shortly Dr. Parret returned and nodded to each in turn. The court official spoke. "Supplementary action arising from audit IL.2342.177.374: termination of IL.019.32B.675.163. Proceed." Dr. Parret opened a drawer and removed a metal case. This he opened and held, the hinge closest to himself, to the anonymous officer. The officer removed a hypodermic infuser from the case, walked to the bed where Jonn Hamming lay, and infused the entire contents. He then returned to the doctor, replaced the infuser and closed the case. Taking it by the handle, he carried the case to the doorway where he stood and waited. Dr. Parret examined Jonn Hamming. It was only a moment or two before he turned to face the court official and said, "Neumann State Zero." "Neumann State Zero," the official repeated, "at point-seven-five-four- nine-plus." He abbreviated the sixteen decimal-place timestamp that was a legal requirement for official records. "Dismissed." The anonymous officer nodded once and left, taking the infuser for audit. Dr. Parret also left, leaving the court official to wait for the morgue officers to remove the corpse. * The door opened and Dr. Parret entered, followed by a woman of almost his height, slim with dirty-blonde hair that was severely scraped back in the normal professional manner, in order to disguise her beauty (something that was, to the envy of many, virtually impossible). Marna and her mother were sitting side by side on a sofa on one side of the room, Grad Vicker in an armchair close by. Mrs. Vicker had her arm around her daughter, a position it had almost never left since the moment they were reunited, and Marna was resting her head on her mother's shoulder. She was still crying constantly; any time there was a short recess in her sobbing, it was not long before her face twisted up again and she resumed. Annah had long since run out of comforting words and elected just to hold her. "Mr. and Mrs. Vicker, Marna," Dr. Parret began, "This is my colleague Dr. Montgue, clinical psychologist. I am Dr. Parret, as you know. There are one or two formalities to observe before Marna is discharged, but they shouldn't take long, and then you can be on your way." He smiled pleasantly. Grad and Annah returned his smile with interest, but not Marna. The best she could manage was to stop sobbing for a moment and hiccup in response. However she did not resume crying so readily; the thought of home helped immensely. "I'd suggest that I examine Marna," Dr. Parret continued, "while Dr. Montgue has a word with her parents. Then we'll all talk together, as a group, though the main focus will be between Marna and Dr. Montgue. Marna, if you don't mind, you can sit here." Dr. Parret indicated a chair close to the sofa. Marna complied, and he placed another facing it. The girl sat quietly and thoughtfully as she was put through a few checks: her pupils, her ears, or being asked to grip Dr. Parret's finger as tightly as she could. She seemed to do well on that particular test, as she managed to draw a slight but easily audible gasp from him, followed by, "Yes, that'll do, thanks. No problem there." Before long, she was pronounced to be in excellent physical condition and they rejoined the others. Dr. Montgue had been chatting quietly to Marna's parents all this time, and seemed satisfied with what she had heard. She skilfully integrated Marna into the conversation without allowing it to stumble, and soon all five were at their ease, talking openly, although the main participants (as expected) were Marna and Dr. Montgue. Everything went well and Dr. Montgue was satisfied that Marna was both psychologically stable, and in possession of full cognitive function and retention. All her memories seemed intact. That, however, ultimately proved a disruptive influence when she began, once more, to recall the accident. The interview then appeared to break down, as Marna became more and more distraught. "I ... we ..." Marna began, then her face twisted and her head sank onto her mother's shoulder once more. "It was an Ed.3 rest day," Annah explained, putting her arm around her, "And I had been going on and on about the state of Marna's bedroom. That day, I gave her an ultimatum," she turned her head and kissed her daughter's forehead, "Which I withdraw. Unreservedly." Marna screwed her eyes tight. After a short while Annah resumed talking, but now stuttering and hesitant. "I ... I said ... we ..." ""I hate you,"" Marna interrupted, making everyone look at her in surprise; everyone except her mother, who continued to hold her as before, unperturbed, "That's what I said. Oh, Mom, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it!" Mother and daughter put their foreheads against each other and whispered quietly. The other three people in the room could not make out what they were saying, but none of them strained to listen: there was no need to discern their words to understand their meaning. Presently Marna turned to face Dr. Montgue and resumed the story. She was still holding both her mother's hands. "I stormed out of the ap," she said, "we live in Rue.7.3, Ap.391 and my friend Sar lives in Ap. 428. I was going to go see her and tell her how much I hated my mom. But before the door could close, Benj ran out past me. I shouted at him, but he just kept running and ignored me. So I ran after him. I don't know, I was so angry I was going to grab him and throw him back into the ap. I didn't look." She began to cry again and stammered, "I ... I saw him." No-one spoke. Marna pulled herself together and continued. "I ran into the road and there was an aut coming. I stopped and looked. I don't know why. But it wasn't very fast so it was okay, and I think it was stopping anyway. I looked. I was going to get out of the way and I had plenty of time. I looked into his eyes. Then suddenly the aut came forwards quickly and hit me. He didn't mean to do it. I know. He didn't want to. But he couldn't stop it. "I felt something hitting me. Really hard. It must have been the aut. Everything was spinning and I don't know what happened, but suddenly something else hit me, even harder. And it kept hitting me." Dr. Parret and Dr. Montgue could have provided a precise explanation of the experience their patient was describing; the victim of an accident, disoriented and then thrown to the ground by their own weight, often perceives that a large, hard object has thrown itself at them; the victim usually rolls, giving the impression of being struck several times. Their head bounces on the surface, and the resulting concussion both amplifies and adds to these feelings. There was no point in upsetting her unduly by dwelling on these details; far better to let her tell that part of her tale and hope that she would then move on. "It was horrible. I've never felt pain like that in my life. It felt like I was being ripped apart." Marna now buried her face in her mother's shoulder again. Annah, with a little effort, pulled one of her hands free and put it around her daughter. It was a while before Marna spoke again. Dr. Montgue watched her carefully and everyone else remained silent until she resumed. "I thought I was dying. Why amn't I dead?" "You were taken to Hosp.2 in time for them to be able to save your life," Dr. Parret said in careful, measured tones. Marna stared at him, her face blank. No-one else spoke. Everyone now fixed their attention entirely on Marna, whose eyes had defocused slightly. They began to dart around at random, without her actually looking at anything in particular as her mind raced. Then they homed in on Dr. Parrett. "Why did you say it like that?" she said in a hushed voice. She sounded deadly afraid. "You said,'You were taken to Hosp.2,' not, 'You were brought here.' If this isn't Hosp.2, where are we?" "We're in Gov.3." "Why? Why am I here?" Dr. Parret took a deep breath and was about to answer, but Dr. Montgue preempted him, thinking it best if she took the lead. "Marna," she said softly, "Your injuries were severe. It needed time and some very complex surgery to save your life. Your treatment was successful, but by the time it had been completed ..." Dr. Montgue hesitated and Marna leant forward, eager to hear the rest. "They managed to save your life, but afterwards ... it was necessary to reanimate you." Annah tried to hold Marna, but Marna shook her off, batting her mother's arm away. "No," she sobbed. "No!" She wrapped her arms around herself and drew her legs together, bowing her head as if she were trying to curl herself up into a little ball where she sat. "Marna, Darling ..." "I'm not me any more, am I? I'm ... him! That man. What's his ... what's my name?" "His name," replied Dr. Montgue, slowly and gently, but emphasising the, "His," "Was Jonn Hamming, but Jonn Hamming is dead." Grad looked at Dr. Montgue in surprise and disapproval. She stared benignly back at him, hoping he would understand her motives. Information like the name of her donor were things that Marna could easily learn on her own, and it was better that she should face them now, while in the care of those who could help her deal with her grief. "Jonn Hamming," repeated Marna, her voice cracking as she spoke, "I am Jonn Hamming, amn't I? My soul's been put into her body, and now I just think I'm Marna because I've got her brain and her memories." She turned to face Annah, her face sorrowful and fearful. "I'm not your daughter. I'm some kind of monster. I'm damaged goods." "No, no, that's not true," Dr. Montgue continued. "Marna, please listen to me. This is very important. Reanimation doesn't work like that." "Why didn't you just let me die?" "Marna! Please, don't talk like that," Annah pleaded. "Don't say these things." Marna did not answer, but seemed to soften slightly. Her head and her shoulder began to turn and droop towards her mother, who lifted her arm and began, slowly and with great uncertainty, to put it around her daughter, although she did not yet touch her. Marna could feel the warmth from her mother's hand, but did not flinch. Dr. Montgue decided she should continue. "You're Marna Vicker," she said. "You are the girl your mother gave birth to, and whom she has loved ever since the day she found out she was pregnant. In the womb, a soul gave you your drive and will to live, and a soul still gives you those wonderful qualities. It didn't matter what soul animated you then, nor does it matter now. You are your mother's daughter, and nothing can change that." Dr. Montgue now fell silent and watched Marna carefully. The girl nodded. Annah by this time had her arm around her daughter and pulled her close. Marna once more dissolved into tears. Still everyone waited. Eventually, Marna lifted her head and smiled tearfully at Dr. Montgue. "Thank you," she said simply. The psychologist smiled in return, as did the other three people present. That was the first time Marna had shown any positive emotion since her reanimation. Dr. Montgue made the most of this success and engaged Marna in discussing her feelings; sometimes covering old ground that they had talked about already, but now seen in a new light; sometimes things that were completely new. Before long, Dr. Montgue sat back, looking happy. "I am very, very sorry to have put you through that," she said, "but it was inevitable that you would relive those memories at some point, and I needed to be there when you did. There was a danger they could have made you mentally ill if they had overwhelmed you without anyone to help. "However, I'm happy that you are ready to be discharged. In fact, I think you are a lovely, psychologically healthy teenager, and I wish you every happiness in the future. Ravesh?" "I agree," replied Dr. Parret, "I'll discharge you right now." His holoscreen popped up and disappeared almost as quickly with a green flash. "Have you transport?" he said. "Yes," Grad replied, "our aut is in a storage space." "Perfect. I'll show you the way. Thanks, Vollia." "See you later, Ravesh," replied Dr. Montgue. They parted outside the door. Dr. Montgue turned left and headed towards her own office, while Dr. Parret led Grad, Annah and Marna in the opposite direction towards underground aut storage. He bade them farewell and they made their way to their aut, and home. 4. Woman, Interrupted Grad identified at the front door of their ap and it slid open. Marna and her mother followed him inside. Annah was still holding her daughter's left hand in both of hers, as she had been doing for most of the journey home. She stopped as soon as they had crossed the threshold and pulled Marna into a hug. "You two hugging again?" Grad said, but he did not sound annoyed; he was smiling in approval. "Get used to it," Annah sighed, "we're going to be doing that a lot." They did: morning, noon and night; even when passing each other in the hall, or in a doorway. No-one objected, least of all Marna herself. She eventually settled back into normal life, although it did take a while before that happened. However, both she and here parents were helped immensely by counselling sessions, several of which were taken by Dr. Montgue herself. The evening that Marna and her parents arrived home from Gov.3 was the worst night of her life, and it surprised even Marna herself. Perhaps the reason it was so bad was because it took her by surprise; when she arrived home, she had been expecting everything to be perfect from that moment onwards. However, there were still monstrous images in her mind that were going to return again and again to haunt her, and they would do so for some time to come. Annah took her daughter up to her bedroom, her arm around her as she pushed the door open, then hugged her (yet again!) once inside. Marna laughed at the relentless attention and affection she was enjoying, but which enjoyment and feeling of security lasted only as long as her mother's companionship. Her mother left and Marna turned to face the mirror. She looked into her own eyes. She looked deep into them. "Who are you?" she whispered to herself. There was some comfort in the fact that she saw only a teenage girl staring back at her. There was no trace of a man in that reflection, not even (as she had feared) hidden behind her face, watching her with her own eyes. She turned from the mirror, and looked around the room as if trying to find an object that would betray her by being something she did not remember possessing. She opened her dev and scrutinised the holoscreen. IL.022.14F.825.172. Marna Vicker. This was an action she would repeat many, many times over a period lasting many, many days. Marna lay down, and curled up on the bed. She did not cry; instead she stared distantly while she stroked the bed covers, feeling the softness of the pillows, trying desperately to hold on to the knowledge that they belonged to her; this was her bed, her room, her house. Her life. Although, thanks to Dr. Montgue, she had been mentally prepared for her ordeal, there was nothing that could save her from what was to come; the memories that would not leave her alone, memories that returned time and time again to torture her, the destructive rending of her emotions at the horror she had endured, followed by the darkness and despair that followed, blighting even those brief periods of lucidity when a kind word from someone she loved lifted her from the pit into which she regularly sank. Even the memory of a memory was painful in the extreme. Marna had experienced her own death, and the pain of both that and her abhorrence at the way in which she had been brought back to life had shaken her self-permanence so badly that she had all but lost her sense of identity, and with that most of her self-esteem. It was a long road back, but with the help of her parents, who were themselves quietly supported by Dr. Montgue, she began to make good progress. Annah found an old doll of Marna's, her favourite, and began to leave it resting against her daughter's pillow for her to find at night. Marna, despite every effort, could not bring herself to discard Molly the way she would have not many days previously. Dr. Montgue had explained, at length, how important the development of permanence was to a child's emotional health, and how underdeveloped, or lost, self- permanence could set someone back years. Marna, exactly as Dr. Montgue predicted she would, found herself waking every morning with Molly in her arms, often held tight to her chest. This was normal for young children, whose emotional developmental was at the stage to which Marna had regressed, and who were afraid of the dark, because they had not yet gained the capacity to trust, deep down, that they and the world they lived in continued to exist when darkness and silence took from them the ability to prove its existence through physical perception. The touch of a familiar and much loved object provided the comfort and support she needed because she could drift off to sleep, happy in the knowledge that she was safely tucked up in bed with Molly. As long as she could feel Molly against her, the world was as it should be. At Dr. Montgue's suggestion, Annah also resumed the silly peek-a-boo games that had made Marna, as both a toddler and a young child, gurgle with laughter and delight. Covering one eye for a few seconds; hiding behind the wardrobe door and talking to her daughter while she was out of sight, before leaning her head around the edge with a gentle, "Boo!" then vanishing again; even lifting the bed cover between them and with a, "Where's Marna gone?" quickly dropping it and cooing, "There she is!" Marna's reaction was always indignation accompanied by a reprimand like, "Mom, could you stop doing that, please? I'm not a child!" but always with a relaxed, amused smile (because at a deep emotional level it felt so good) and despite her protests could not force herself to look away. Just as these simple permanence games are crucial to the emotional development of a child, they were equally crucial to the emotional recovery of Marna. They worked, even better than Dr. Montgue had reasonably expected and by the time she was seventeen, Marna Vicker had grown into a beautiful, intelligent and well-balanced young woman who graduated from the Ed.3 level with a near-perfect assessment, ready to progress to Ed.5 (although, as was typical with people of the Ed.5 age group, she had a rebellious, radical streak that she indulged by referring to Ed.5 by its isolationist name of, "University"), where she would study law. Annah and her daughter had a tearful farewell as she and Grad prepared to depart for the journey home, leaving Marna comfortable in the ap they were renting for her first semester at IL.Ed.5. Marna, who was as determined as ever to make the most of the second chance she had been given, was one of those rare people who were not only talented and hard- working, but also popular. By the time the winter break arrived, Marna was the top student in her year, but was exhausted and, therefore, delighted to receive a call on her dev, from her mother, inviting her to spend the entire break at home, celebrating the Winter Thanks. The only surprise, albeit a pleasant and exciting one, was when Marna enquired of her mother if she would mind if perhaps, when she arrived, she were not alone. * "Mom!" "Marna!" Mother and daughter met on the doorstep and immediately wrapped each other in their arms. A young man of about the same age, who had arrived with her, stood waiting patiently behind Marna until the deadlock was broken, something that would have continued much longer had he not quietly and politely cleared his throat. "Oh, sorry!" Marna exclaimed, her cheeks reddening slightly. "Mom, this is Erric, Erric, my mom." "Pleased to meet you," both said simultaneously, shaking hands with their fingers interleaved in the normal way for a different-sex greeting; the woman's left hand and the man's right. They moved into the ap and Annah called upstairs to Grad, to tell him Marna was home. She was answered by an immediate shout of delight, and when she turned round to smile at the couple, she immediately noticed how close they were standing to each other, and the tell-tale position of Erric's hand, resting too far below the narrowest part of her daughter's waist for her to doubt they were well past their first date. Annah had absolutely no problem with the scene before her, but that little sign made tears begin to prickle the backs of her eyes. The baby she once cradled in her arms was now grown up enough to be sexually active. At the sight of his girlfriend's father appearing at the top of the stairs, Erric instinctively withdrew his hand from where it rested on Marna's hip, but not before Grad had noticed the mildly possessive pose. His observations were not quite as deep as Annah's, although he did note the respectful way in which the boy had reacted. After embracing his daughter, which was Grad's first priority, he stood with his right arm still around her while he used his left to shake hands with Erric. Annah smiled to herself at the good-humoured competition for Marna's attention. The way that Erric had shaken hands with both Annah and Grad was part of the four-way handshake, a social custom that allowed two couples to shake hands simultaneously: the men clasping each other's left hand, the women each other's right, and each man's right hand interleaving its fingers with the opposite woman's left. The four-way handshake had proved so popular that people used the appropriate part of it even when only two people were greeting each other and the traditional right-hand- only handshake had died out completely. The four-way handshake was even practised by isolationists. After dinner, Annah took her daughter upstairs while Grad and Erric remained in the living room, chatting quietly. Initially, Marna was taken-aback and slightly confused; her mother seemed to have prepared a double room for her and a single room for Erric. Then it suddenly dawned upon her what her mother had done, so she was not at all surprised when, a few moments later, she heard the explanation, "Darling, it's completely up to you and Erric which of the rooms he sleeps in, and I have no opinion on the subject." Marna stared at her, unsure how to react. Then the two giggled like schoolgirls when Annah added, "But presumably it's more up to you than it is to him." The four spent a very pleasant time together. Annah and Grad found they were amazed at how much more mature and self-assured their daughter had become in a single semester at Ed.5. She was accomplished, even at such an early stage, and spoke competently on most subjects. They found Erric to be both a very nice young man, and also equal to Marna in not only intelligence, but in her well-balanced view of the world around her. Unfortunately, to Annah's mind, Marna and Erric left before the end of Winter Thanks. They were going to spend all but a few days of the remainder of the break with Erric's family, before returning to IL.5 to prepare for the new semester. It was something of a tearful farewell, as it was unlikely that mother and daughter would meet again for the remainder of the educational year, but there was one thing her mother demanded to which Marna readily agreed; that she would come home for Summer Thanks and spend the entire break there. * "Mom!" "Marna!" Mother and daughter greeted each other in exactly the same way they had at Winter Thanks, except for one small difference. "Where's Erric?" Annah asked, looking surprised. "Last time I spoke to you, you were chattering away quite happily about him." "Tell you later," Marna replied glumly. Those three words communicated everything there was to know and Marna found herself being comforted by another, even bigger, hug. Grad was waiting behind Annah and sensed that something was amiss. He waited for mother and daughter to step back from each other before he greeted Marna. "So, tell me, what happened?" Annah eventually asked her daughter, after biting her tongue (with great difficulty) all through dinner. "What happened with what?" replied Marna, who for the moment, was at a loss, the conversation having followed such a pleasant course that she was happy and contented, and all negative thoughts had been banished. "With Erric," Annah prompted, then regretted questioning her daughter when she saw the way her face fell. "Oh, that," Marna said, "nothing really. Get boyfriend, lose boyfriend, make up, break up. You know how it goes. Erric and I have broken up. It's the way of the world, Mom." "Ahem, I'm your mother, remember? I'm older and wiser than you. I tell you about the way of the world, not the other way round." They both laughed, then immediately fell back into a serious mood. "Just tell me," Annah persevered, "are you all right?" "Yes, of course I am," Marna replied, smiling wryly, "The romance ran its course and we drifted apart, that's all. We parted amicably, though, and he's with someone else now. We're still friends and there are no hard feelings. I don't have a new boyfriend yet. Anything else? Would you like to see my course notes now, or my shopping receipts, to make sure I've been buying enough food?" Annah laughed, now much more relaxed, "No, darling, I don't. I just wanted to make sure you hadn't been hurt, that's all." "Well I haven't, but I do really appreciate your concern. Thanks, Mom." The matter was now closed and the three chatted happily for a while before turning in. Marna, at her bedroom door, received another lingering hug from her mother, who had to be scuttled away and told laughingly to go to bed. Annah settled down happily and drifted off to sleep. In the middle of the night, she suddenly woke, feeling startled, as if a noise of some kind had disturbed her. She lay and looked at the ceiling for a while before slipping quietly out of bed and, stopping at the door to make sure she had not roused Grad, tiptoed along to Marna's room, where she listened at the door. She could hear heavy breathing mixed with the sound of her daughter's voice, but indistinct and seemingly in distress. Now extremely worried, she slowly pushed open the door. Marna was in bed, alone, but thrashing from side to side. The sound of her mother entering the room seemed to wake her and she sat up in bed and looked round. For a moment, she stared at Annah as if she did not recognise her, then the expression on her face broke. "Mom," she whispered. She looked frightened and confused. "Marna, darling, what is it? What's wrong?" Annah sat on the edge of the bed, intending to give her daughter a reassuring hug, but was beaten to it by Marna, who threw herself into her arms. "Mom, I don't know. I was ... I can't remember." "It's all right. It was just a bad dream." "Yes. Just a bad dream. I ... it's fading. I can't even remember what I was dreaming about." "Try to go back to sleep. I'll stay with you for a while." Annah tried to pull away from Marna, intending her daughter to slip back under the covers and herself to sit on the edge of the bed, but Marna did not let go. "Don't leave me, Mom," she said. "I'll stay with you for a little while," Annah replied and lifted the covers from under herself, then lay down beside her daughter, who still had her hands around her neck. Annah settled down on her back and Marna cuddled into her side, her arm around her mother's waist. Annah freed her right arm, put it around Marna's shoulder, and stroked her hair, daughter's head on mother's shoulder. Eventually she sensed the girl had fallen asleep, but decided to wait a little longer, not wanting to risk slipping away too early for fear of waking her. Before Annah knew it, it was morning and she found herself waking up with Marna's head still on her shoulder and her arm around her waist, in exactly the same position they had been in last night; obviously she had fallen asleep almost immediately. She smiled and turned her head to look at her daughter. The slight movement woke Marna, who smiled and purred a quiet, "Mmmmm," before lifting her head in surprise at finding herself in bed with her mother. Then she half sat up and laughed. "Morning, Mom," she said. "Thanks for staying with me. I feel much better now." "Do you?" "I can't even remember what it was, now." "That's good." "You know ..." "What, darling?" Marna laughed. "You used to do that when I was little, didn't you?" "What?" "If I was scared at night, you'd get into bed beside me and cuddle me until I went to sleep." Annah smiled nostalgically and nodded. "But you used to go away once I was asleep. In the morning, I'd wake up and you wouldn't be there. I always missed you, and sometimes I cried." "Oh, God, I'm sorry, darling, I never knew." "Thanks for still being here this morning." "You're welcome." Annah gently brushed her daughter's hand with her own. "Lets get dressed and you can help me make breakfast." * The days that followed turned out to be relaxed and happy, with no re- occurrence of Marna's nightmare. Her nineteenth birthday came and went without any further trauma and the three settled down to a happy routine. When Mr. and Mrs Vicker had bought their ap, they had been fortunate enough to find one that bordered onto protected forest land, so they had old-fashioned woodland walks right on their doorstep. After dinner, they fell into the (welcome) habit of playing dev games with each other. Then one evening, Grad appeared wearing white protective gloves and holding a strange-looking cardboard box, smaller than his hand. One of the flat sides, which was rectangular, had a complex pattern on it. The opposite bore some kind of writing, but neither Annah nor Marna got a good enough look at it to be able to make much out. "Is that something dangerous?" Marna giggled. "The gloves are to protect this, not me." Her father smiled in return. "It's quite valuable." He sat down at the table and both Annah and Marna quickly followed, fascinated to find out what this mysterious object was. Carefully, Grad pulled open one end of the box and pulled from it what looked like another box, exactly the same size, with the same pattern on one side, the other having a number four, and some strange black symbols. When he pushed the side of the second box, it seemed to collapse, and then the two women saw that it was in fact made of many pieces of paper, all pressed tightly together. Each piece had the same pattern on one side, but the other was completely different, having a number or a letter, and a collection of these strange symbols, some red, some black. A few had primitive-looking hand-drawn pictures of a man or a woman. "My grandfather gave me these," he said, "and his grandfather gave them to him. But I think they're actually older than both of them." "What are they?" Marna asked, fascinated. "They're called playing cards," her father replied. "People used to play games with them." "Is that plastic?" interrupted Annah, who was amazed she might be looking at something so rare. "Yes," Grad replied, "these are about two hundred years old, I believe. In those days it was legal to use plastic for things like this. Affordable, too. It's only a thin layer to protect the card." "What do they do?" Marna said, looking at the cards as if she expected them suddenly to spring into action. "Nothing on their own," Grad said, making his daughter look at him sceptically. "Then what good are they?" "I'll show you, but not with these." Grad carefully gathered the cards together and replaced them into the packet. He then left the table. "Just a moment," he said over his shoulder, "I won't be long." He returned almost immediately, minus the gloves, but with a box that looked identical to the first, which he was carrying much less reverently. "I had copies made," he explained, opening the box and casually tipping the contents onto the table. "We can play with these ones, and it doesn't matter if we damage them." Marna and Annah each picked up a card and examined it. They were slightly grubby and their surfaces were not as smooth and shiny as the first set, but otherwise they looked the same. "So what do we do?" Marna was intrigued, but still doubtful that something that seemed so boring and inanimate could be any fun at all. "There are literally hundreds of games you can play with them," her father continued. "Thousands probably. Some people used to spend most of their time playing cards, and they could win - or lose - a fortune doing it." "Really? How?" "Simple, really. The loser gave money to the winner." "Weird." "But we're not going to play for money." "That's a pity. I thought you were going to let Marna and me take all your money from you." "I already have," Grad replied and he and Annah pulled a face at each other. "So what are we going to do?" "We're going to play the best card game ever invented. It's called, "Snap."" Marna had never laughed so much in her life. She and her parents spent the rest of the evening giggling like children, hitting each other on the hand trying to be the first to claim the pile of cards in front of them, groaning in frustration and jumping in excitement up and down in their seats. By the time they went to bed, Marna was so happy that she clung to her parents as she bade them good-night, reluctant to let go. She kissed both, which was more common between her and her mother than her father, but this time even her mother was accosted with much more weight than normal. "Love you, Dad," she said. "And you, Mom." Grad and Annah could hear her sighing happily to herself from behind her bedroom door as she pushed it shut, and could easily imaging their daughter twirling around in delight, her arms wide. They slipped into their own bed and held each other affectionately, pulling into a passionate kiss. Both were tired after the evening's walk before dinner, then the prolonged game, so they made the heartfelt, unspoken promise that tomorrow night, they would make love. Annah curled up against Grad and both quickly fell asleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, Annah woke, feeling something was wrong. She lifted her head and looked around the bedroom. Grad was still asleep, but beside the open door there was a pale figure, stationary and ghostlike in appearance. "Marna?" Marna did not reply. She was visibly (even in the near dark) shaken. Her head was bowed and she was trembling, her breathing as uneven as it had been on that awful night, that until now had seemed a lifetime ago, when she had been terrified by her nightmare. As quick as a flash, Annah was out of bed and beside her daughter, embracing her, trying to comfort her. She looked at Grad, who still had not roused. Annah stumbled along the hallway with her arm still around her daughter, until they reached her bedroom. She shepherded her into bed and then instinctively climbed in beside her, drawing the covers around them both. "What's wrong, darling? Tell me." "Mom, who's Korine?" Annah was severely shaken by the question and she decided to lie. "I don't know," she replied. "It's just that ..." Marna's voice trailed off and she did not finish the sentence. "What, Marna? What is it, darling?" "I was ... Mom, it was horrible! I dreamt I was ... I think I was ... I was in bed with a woman, and we were ..." she buried her face in her mother's embrace, and it was a while before she continued, "I called her Korine, and she called me ... Jonn. We were making love. Mom, what's wrong with me?" "Shh, darling, it was just a dream." Marna looked up at her mother helplessly. "Don't think about it. Try to go back to sleep. I'm here. I promise I'll stay with you." She lay back and held her daughter, who cuddled into her side as she had done on the first night. "Please don't leave me," Marna said. "I won't. I promise." "What's going to happen to me? Am I going insane?" "No, you're going to be all right. We'll talk about it tomorrow, and I'll ask Dr. Montgue what to do. She always helps." "Yes," Marna replied. She was beginning to sound drowsy, to her mother's relief. Before long, she did fall asleep, but Annah lay awake for a while, worrying and thinking through, several times, every detail of what had happened and had been said, intent upon giving Dr. Montgue the most accurate description possible. * Annah woke first. Carefully she turned her head to make sure her daughter still slept, then she relaxed again. She began once more to think through the events of last night, but then felt a gentle movement by her side, and a quiet, low pitched purr from the sleeping girl. She lay as still as she could, hoping Marna's slumber would continue undisturbed. She was taken completely by surprise when she felt her daughter's hand, which was still draped over her, around her waist, slide upwards and cup her breast. At the same time, Marna began to kiss her neck, just below her chin, working her way towards her mouth. The hand played with her breast for a little longer before it slid downwards, following the curve of her waist and hip, until finally it moved across her body to find the mound between her thighs, which it caressed for a moment before beginning to explore further and further. At the same time, Marna leant over and kissed her mother passionately and fully on the mouth, while she began pressing her groin again and again against her side. Both women reacted simultaneously. Annah dragged herself from underneath her daughter and stood up. "Marna!" she said aloud, "Marna, what are you doing?" Marna, though, had already pulled back her hand and seemed to have become rigid, her face white, mouth open, eyes wide with horror. With her mother absent, she pushed herself up into a half sitting position. The bed covers fell from around her and she looked down at herself. Her hand immediately flew to the bare skin above her knee, where her night-dress ended, then, accompanied by the other, shot to her chest, pressing them against herself for a few agonising moments. Finally, one hand began to slip downwards along the length of her body, hesitatingly and unevenly, as if it were trying to stop but could not resist, until it found the proof she had feared to discover. Marna buried her face in her hands. "No!" she said, her voice becoming louder and more pained with each word she uttered, "No! Please! This can't be happening! Why is this happening to me?" Her voice then became gradually quieter as she repeated, "No," over and over again, her face still hidden, her body rocking back and forth. The raised voices had woken Grad, who now appeared at the door, pushing it back not violently, but neither did he open it gently. He took in the scene quickly, his own face draining of blood, his daughter kneeling on the bed, distraught, his wife kneeling on the floor at the bedside, in tears. "Marna," he said sharply, "look at me." When he got no response, he took hold of her shoulders and shook her before repeating, more forcefully this time, "Look at me!" Her reaction was to twist away from him and stumble onto the floor at the far side, where she backed against the wall and looked from Grad to Annah and back again, like a cornered, wounded animal searching for a way to escape from its predators. "Marna," Grad persisted, "Marna. Speak to me." Annah looked up from where she knelt and added, pleading, "Marna, darling, please, what is it? What's wrong with you?" "It's happened, hasn't it?" said Grad. Marna only stared back at them, looking anguished and terrified. Grad half buckled over, seeming about to collapse. Momentarily he pulled himself straight, but he looked stricken and a cloud of anger passed over his face. His face was set, his jaw clenched, and he spoke through gritted teeth. "You have no idea who I am, have you? You have no idea who either of us are." "I saw you in Gov.3. You must be the girl's parents." "That's right. And you're the man who killed her." 5. Widow, Interrupted Grad waited downstairs while Annah assisted Marna. The girl had no idea where anything was, which drawer or wardrobe door to open to find what she needed. There were things she had absolutely no idea how to fasten. Annah's eyes dripped tears all through the ordeal of teaching a nineteen-year-old woman how to dress herself, watching Marna fumbling with the buttons on her blouse, finding the opposite arrangement of the buttons and holes on women's clothes to be awkward and difficult. It was already obvious that by trying not to think about what she was doing, her body's muscle memory was easily capable of performing such ordinary tasks on its own, but unfortunately for Marna that would require her not to think about what she was doing, and trying not to think about a female body was something that was, at that moment, proving impossible. The conversation that had taken place in the bedroom had been short and to the point. Grad had asked Marna her name. Marna's face had become whiter, if that were possible. The tears drying on her cheeks had been refreshed and remoistened. Her voice had produced a quiet, terrified squeak. "Jonn. "Hamming." Grad had told her to get out of his daughter's room, and out of the ap. Only Annah had saved her from being dragged downstairs there and then. She had ushered her husband out, telling him to wait downstairs while she made sure (and at this point she had almost broken down) that the girl left as soon as possible. Helping her daughter to prepare to depart, knowing she may well never see her again, was as painful for Annah as it was for Marna to dress her unfamiliar body. They progressed slowly and, once Grad's patience had run out, heard a knock at the door. "Grad," Annah said, and that one word conveyed many things: the fragility of her emotional state; the despair and emptiness she was feeling; how welcome the sound of his voice would be; also permission to enter. Grad immediately put his arm around his wife, silently asking her how she was coping; she answered, by the way she leant into him, that she needed him more than ever before. It was a touching scene, one from which Marna felt compelled to turn. She lifted an ornament and examined it closely, trying to remember what it was and what it had meant to its owner, hoping desperately that memories belonging to her body's rightful occupant would be stirred, and that the girl might then succeed in returning to reclaim her family and her life. "Put that down," Grad said menacingly. "I don't want you touching anything that belongs to Marna." She laid the object back down and turned to face him. "I don't want this," she sobbed, "I don't want to be here instead of your daughter, and I'll do anything I can to help you get her to come back." "Last night I promised Marna I'd talk to Dr. Montgue," Annah said. "Let me do that. Maybe she'll be able to help us." Grad continued to stare distastefully at his daughter, who looked pleadingly back at him. "I want to be Marna Vicker, not Jonn Hamming. If there's anyone who might be able to help us, we should let them try. Please?" Grad turned and left without a word and Annah took his silence as acceptance. Marna stood with her hands covering her mouth while her mother called up her holoscreen and spoke to Dr. Montgue, briefly explaining everything that had happened. Dr. Montgue, who had at first seemed reluctant, listened attentively, asked very few questions, then said she would be there directly. Annah left briefly to speak to Grad, then returned to Marna's bedroom to wait there with her. Mother and daughter glanced at each other occasionally, both looking awkward and embarrassed, and it took a little while before Annah eventually spoke, asking her daughter what she could remember. Her tears fell frequently and silently at the response that Marna could remember nothing at all, even when told of her nightmares and the drama surrounding them. Eventually Grad's call from downstairs announced the arrival of their visitor, and the two women left to join them. Dr. Montgue, regretfully, was not there for long. She seemed unhappy when she arrived, and as the consultation progressed she looked more and more grim. At her request, Marna described her experience, but was only able to tell the story from that morning onwards, having to fall back on Annah to fill in the events of last night, while Marna listened with her face buried in her hands. Dr. Montgue then took over, asking Marna to expand a few details about what she had said, and about what she felt. She did not probe much, and very shortly was shaking her head as she posed one final, ominous question. "Nothing at all?" "Nothing at all," replied Marna. "I'm sorry," Dr. Montgue then said, "But there's nothing I can do to help." "There must be something we can do," Marna said, pleading. "I want to be Marna again. I want her to come back and push me out. I just want to die and let her be." Dr. Montgue shook her head sadly. "This situation is completely unprecedented," she explained, "and there is no known treatment to deal with such a condition." Marna burst into a bout of violent sobbing and ran from the room. Annah followed close behind. Grad started, but then checked himself and spoke to Dr. Montgue. "If there's nothing that can be done, then I suppose there's no point in taking up any more of your time." "I'm sorry. I'll happily arrange to see her again myself, if that's what she wants. There are also a few other experts in the field who may be interested, but even so, I'm afraid I can't hold out much hope. All we could do would be to study her for our own benefit, and it's inconceivable that we would be able to reverse what has happened." Grad showed her out and then joined his wife and daughter upstairs. He found them sitting side by side on the bed, Annah with her arm around Marna, who was still sobbing. "Annah," he said sharply and, when she looked up, indicated that he expected her to join him where he stood. She obeyed, and turned to regard the girl who, now alone, was visibly cringing. "I want you to leave," Grad then said gruffly, almost heartlessly. "Now. And I don't want to see you anywhere near my wife or me again, for as long as you live. "Take nothing from this room. These things are my daughter's possessions, not yours. Even the clothes you are wearing belong to her. I ought to throw you out naked into the street." That was too much for Annah, who took hold of his arm and looked up at him. "Grad," she said softly. The sadness in her voice almost made him want to relent, but his mood was fey and he was determined to hold on to his anger. He turned his head and looked steadily at his wife. "Don't give him any of Marna's good clothes," he growled. "Just old ones. Then he goes." He turned back to Marna, who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "You have destroyed my family. Twice. "So get out, and I hope you try to go back to your wife, because then I'd at least be able to take some comfort in thinking of you suffering the loss of your family just as badly as Annah and I have to suffer the loss of ours. I hope you spend days, years, regretting what you've done, knowing you can never go back to your own life, just as we can never go back to ours. I hope you spend the rest of your life cursing the body you're stuck in, agonising over what you can't have any more. Because, thanks to you, my wife and I are going to spend the rest of our lives knowing we can't have our daughter any more." He turned and left the bedroom; moments later, the sound of the outside door closing reached the ears of the two women. Grad walked into the woodland adjoining the ap, and by the time he returned, Marna was gone. Many wasted years were lost before father and daughter met again. Annah took an old suitcase from under Marna's bed. It was well-used and quite worn. "You'd better take this one," she explained, looking at Marna sympathetically. "After what your fath..." She paused and bit her lip. "After what my husband said." She opened the case on top of the bed, then began to fill it with some of Marna's things. "I'll give you most of your underwear, and things like socks, stockings ..." "My underwear?" "Yes, your ..." Annah started, then broke down. "Will I ever see you again?" "I'm not Marna." "Yes you are. My poor darling, of course you are. Your father's wrong. You're our daughter. You just can't remember who you are." Marna sat down on the edge of the bed and Annah joined her. There was no contact between them, but they sat angled towards each other, which was as close as either could bear to be. "I would give anything for you to get Marna back," the younger woman said. "I told you that, and I mean it." "I know. I believe you." "But I can't be Marna. All those memories you treasure, of your daughter growing up, all those precious, happy memories ... I don't have them." "We could get to know each other all over again. If the accident had given you amnesia, I would have loved you back to health. Why can't I try to do that now?" "Because I haven't just forgotten. I've become someone else. It's not the same thing." "So I'm going to lose you." "We can still ... talk ... meet ... if that's what you want. Just because your husband ..." it was now Marna's turn to bite her lip, "Just because Dad says he doesn't want to know me, it doesn't mean we can't. If you want to." When Annah heard the word, "Dad," from her daughter's lips, she placed her hand tenderly on Marna's arm. She stood up and took a deep breath. "But we need to get you packed. Your father could be back at any time, so you're going to have to ..." she was unable to finish the sentence. Now it was Marna who comforted her. She put both arms around her mother and let her drop her head onto her shoulder. "I'm so sorry ... Mom." Annah sniffed. "You called me, 'Mom.' You know, hearing you talk like that just makes it harder to let you go. I want to keep you here and fight for you." "Dad would never let me. I need to go. We need to start again." "But we will, won't we? We'll try to start again? Promise me you'll give me a chance." Marna nodded and slowly the two women returned to their original task. Annah tearfully filled the case with various things belonging to Marna; skirts, jeans, one or two older dresses, but nothing new, just as Grad had instructed. "I'll give you your toothbrush, and some of your cosmetics, make-up ..." "I have no idea how to use make-up." "Then you'll learn. That could be a big part of you coming back." Finally, the case was filled and there was a tearful farewell on the doorstep before Marna turned her back and left her mother weeping as she watched her walk away. The case, being an older and cheaper one, did not hover, but had to be carried. Marna found it heavy by the standards of the body to which she was accustomed, that of Jonn Hamming, and frequently had to change hands to relieve the ache in her arm and the pinching of the skin on her palm. Grad's parting words returned to haunt her, and she walked long and slowly before she finally, despairingly, gave up on the hope of forming a single alternative plan. The day was nearing its close and the blues and purples of twilight were beginning to recolour the warmth of the evening, when reluctantly, and with her heart in her mouth, she turned towards the one place that seemed inevitably to be her destination. No matter how painful this meeting was going to be, there was no avoiding it. * Marna identified at the door, and Korine was immediately alerted to the presence of a stranger. She called up her holoscreen and saw a young woman standing outside, a case at her feet. Korine stared at her for a moment. There was something familiar about the girl, who could not have been much more than twenty, if that, but for the life of her she could not place her. There seemed to be no danger, though, so she decided to open the door. "Just a moment, I'll be right there," she said and her dev relayed her response to the security system, prompting the girl to smile, though politely rather than happily. Korine walked to the door and allowed it to unlock. It slid open to reveal a young woman of the same height as her, only slimmer and more beautiful. Korine herself was slender and elegant, and an exceptional beauty, but the girl standing on the doorstep outshone even her, more so than an advantage of almost ten years could give. As was the custom, the girl's dev identified her to Korine. "Marna Vicker," she read from her holoscreen, "I didn't think I knew you, but your name is familiar from somewhere." "Yes, it will be, but I don't expect you'll remember me after all this time," the girl replied, her voice rising and becoming less and less coherent as she continued. "But it doesn't matter anyway. You see, I'm not Marna. I'm Jonn. Korine, it's me, Jonn Hamming. I'm your ..." She was unable to say any more and she bowed her head, sobbing. She was a pathetic sight, her arms dangling helplessly at her sides, her posture broken, tears dripping from the end of her nose. Korine herself almost lost her balance, the world seeming to reel around her. "Oh, God," she said, "Oh my God. Marna Vicker. I remember now." She stretched out her hand in an attempt to keep herself upright, falling heavily against the door and startling Marna, who reacted just in time, catching her elbow to steady her. Korine smiled her thanks before the surreality of the situation struck her and her mouth fell open in embarrassment. Marna, suddenly remembering her case, turned to pick it up, but Korine, needing something practical to take her mind off the thoughts racing through it, got there first. The younger woman's heart thumped in shock as the realisation dawned that she was no longer expected to carry heavy objects any more than her former wife was. "You'd ... better ... come in," Korine stammered and laid the case down just inside the door. She led Marna into the living room. "Excuse me," she said, "But I need this." She took a water glass out of a cupboard, then opened what appeared to be a secret compartment and lifted a large, glass bottle containing a brownish liquid, almost full. She poured about two centimetres of the liquid into the glass, threw it back, made a face, poured twice as much again, then croaked, "Sorry. Do you want one?" "No, thank you," replied Marna, looking sadly at her. "Not any more." Korine hid the bottle again, then took her glass to the sofa, where she sat, took another trembling mouthful, and looked questioningly at Marna over the top of the glass. The other woman also sat, perching herself at the opposite end and looking as if she could burst into tears at any moment. "Tell me this is a joke," Korine said, but Marna merely lowered her head and shook it sadly. "I wish I could." she replied with a struggle. "So what are you going to tell me, then? Come on, there's got to be some explanation that won't prove to me that I've finally gone insane. Why has this strange woman turned up at my door claiming to be my husband?" "I thought you knew who I was." "I do. You're Marna Vicker. You're the girl my husband knocked down. You were reanimated, and I was hoping I'd never, ever meet you." "I'm not Marna any more. I'm J..." "I heard what you said!" Korine interrupted with surprising force, "I want you to tell me you're lying, that you're not Jonn, you're just a stupid girl trying to play a stupid joke." Her face began to twist up and Marna's voice was quiet and timid when she responded, "You don't believe me?" "Oh, yes, I believe you." Korine laid her glass down on the table and buried her face in her hands, speaking from behind them, "I don't want to believe you, but I do, because I think I know what's happened. The one thing I've dreaded more than anything else." "Korine, if you can shed any light on this nightmare I'm living in, please tell me what you know." "I read about it. When my husband's audit closed with him being sentenced to reanimate you, I wanted to know what was going to happen to him." "Isn't your husband me?" Korine shook her head. It was not so much a gesture of denial; rather, it looked more like an attempt to clear her thoughts of the confusion that threatened to stifle them. "I'm sorry," she said looking at the floor, "But it's all this, 'You,' and, 'Him,' and, 'He', and, 'She,' and, 'Husband,' and," at that point she paused and looked apprehensively at Marna before completing her sentence with, ""Woman." It's going to take me a while to rationalise all that, so you're just going to have to be patient. I am seriously struggling to get my head around it." "You're struggling to get your head around it?" "Your head is around it. That's the problem. Your head was put around it by those Smith-Hanover things and there's nothing we can do about it." "Smith what?" Korine sighed. "When Jonn was ..." She stopped, sighed again and then restarted, "When you were sentenced to reanimate Marna Vicker, I became obsessed with finding out what was going to happen to you. I started off just wanting to reassure myself you weren't going to suffer, that whatever it was they were going to do to you ... if they were going to kill you, I wanted to know that at least it would be painless. After a while I found myself being drawn in to some kind of horrified fascination with the whole process. "I must have spent hundreds of days reading about it. I read all about how wonderful it is and how it's going to make all these great improvements to justice, and stop all these lives being destroyed. I also read all about how evil it is, and how it's going to destroy people's lives. "How could it possibly destroy someone's life?" retorted Marna sarcastically, staring into space. Korine lifted her glass from the table and took a drink from it. She held it up to Marna invitingly, but the younger woman again shook her head. "I read all sorts of articles about it. I even read academic papers that had been put on general release; some of which were pretty technical and involved. One of them was about these things called, "Memory Artefacts." That's where a reanimated person experiences memories that appear to belong to the person who reanimated them." "Mom ... Mrs. Vicker ... told me I'd had nightmares. One of them was about making love to you." "So you think that's a nightmare do you?" "I wouldn't if I were a man, but I do now. I have memories in my head that do nothing but torment me." Korine looked away and unsuccessfully tried to hide her feelings behind a resumption of her monologue. "If you were having these nightmares that you couldn't understand as Marna, that sounds exactly like the memory artefacts describes by the papers I read. A few of them, though, took things further and talked about something called a total return. Have you ever heard of that? Because it sounds like that's what's happened to you." "Total return?" "Yes. That's where the person whose soul is used for the reanimation comes back to life in the other person's body." "Okay, so now we're getting somewhere. What can we do about it?" Korine looked sadly at Marna. It was obvious she was struggling against a collapse into helpless weeping, and it was a battle she was barely winning. "Nothing," she spluttered, "there's nothing anyone can do to reverse a total return. You're stuck with being Jonn Hamming's mind in Marna Vicker's body." "No. There must be something." Korine shook her bowed head. "Couldn't we get it reversed? If I can be put into this body, surely I can be put back into my own?" "That might have been possible, if your own body still existed." Marna's mouth fell open. She looked as if there was a question she wanted to ask, but was unable to use her voice. "Afterwards, they killed you. You've been cremated. You're going to have to learn to live with yourself the way you are." "Maybe I will have that drink after all." Korine took another glass and retrieved the hidden bottle. She poured Marna a generous helping and topped up her own. Marna put the glass to her lips and swallowed as much as she could, which was not very much, before she began to cough. Korine took the glass from her, but laid it down within reach on the table. "Take it easy," she said kindly. "Remember you're not Jonn any more. For all you know, that could be the first time you've tasted that stuff." Marna nodded. She lifted the glass and this time took a tiny sip before replacing it on the table. Then she looked steadily at Korine. She seemed to be calming down. "The last time I saw you," she said, "was in the room where we were separated by that glass wall." "They call that the, 'Farewell room,'" Korine explained. "And I have no memory of what happened between then and this morning, when I woke up as Marna," she continued, "I remember trying to put my hand against yours, but I couldn't lift it properly. Everything was going dim, and I started to topple over, but instead of landing on the floor, it felt like I'd fallen onto a bed." "That was you waking up in your new body," Korine interrupted, drawing a hurt look from Marna, "You must have had your total return sometime during the night." "It took a while before the memory of you from the farewell room came back properly. To begin with, everything was hazy and I didn't know where I was. All I felt was this overwhelming sense of relief, as if I'd woken up from a nightmare to find everything is all right after all. I was lying, cuddled up to my mother." Korine raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, making it clear that point needed to be explained. "She told me later that she used to do that when I was ... when Marna was little, and recently she started doing it again, from time to time, because I'd started to have these nightmares that upset me so much." "Memory artefacts," Korine expounded. "Whatever," shrugged Marna. "But anyhow, there I was waking up in the morning, in bed with a woman, cuddled up against her, and ... and ... well, I thought she was you!" "Tell me you didn't ..." was Korine's reaction. She put her hand over her mouth as if in shock, but in reality she was disguising the fact that she was trying not to smile at the image that had suddenly leapt in front of her mind's eye. Marna looked stricken at the recollection of the events of that morning. "What do you expect?" she said, her face reddening, "I came to, lying in bed with a woman, so naturally I expected her to be you. I thought I'd woken up in bed with you, so naturally I expected to be a man. So ... naturally ... I ... started ... groping her, and started squeezing myself against her, trying to nurse my erection." "Oh, God!" "Nothing happened, of course, because there was nothing there to ... happen, and both of us freaked out at about the same time." "I'll bet." "I'm glad you think it's funny." "Oh, come on, surely you can see the ridiculousness of the situation?" "You think? It's all right for you. You've been the same sex all your life." "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." "You don't need to. That's happening all by itself." "What happened next? You ... em ... woke up," Korine tried her best to keep her face straight. "And then?" "As I said, Marna went to sleep, and I woke up. I started the day off by groping one of my parents, told them I wasn't their daughter any more, and things went steadily downhill from there." Marna told Korine the story of that morning; Grad's reaction, Dr. Montgue's visit, and her sorrowful conversation with Annah while she packed. "Mom was heartbroken, but she was still kind to me," she said in conclusion. "Mothers are like that." "But Dad ... Marna's father, told me to leave and that he never wanted to see me again. If I'd tried to stay, I'd only have made them fight, so ..." "So you left, and came ba... and my husband has come back to me, minus the ... husband." Marna sighed. "If my presence here is just upsetting you, I should just go." "Spoken like an adult. You sound more like the grown-up thirty-year-old m... person that I knew, than a, what? twenty-year-old?" "Nineteen, actually." "Stay, please. I want you to. In any case, where would you go? It's just ... you know, you've no idea what it feels like to see you again. Especially ..." Korine looked Marna over from head to toe and then met her eye to eye, her own eyes wide with mock amazement. "You've no idea how weird it is to see you again. Like this." "As weird as it is for me, to see you like this?" "Let's not get into an argument about who feels the weirdest, because I think I'm way out in front." Marna looked down at her chest and scoffed in frustration when she realised what she had said. The tiniest flicker of a smile twitched the corner of Korine's mouth. "Okay, I'll give you that one," she replied. "Tell me one thing," Marna asked, a faint hint of deviousness seeping into her tone of voice. "Why are you being so nice to me? So understanding? Why haven't you freaked out the way Mom and I did this morning? Why haven't you thrown me out, calling me a fake, a witch, an intruder?" "Spoken, again, like an adult. What you have to understand is, like I said earlier, I became obsessed with reanimation and I did my best to find out as much as I could about it. To begin with all I wanted to do was reassure myself that you weren't going to suffer, but then some thing else took over; something a bit darker. "As I read more and more about total return. I began to realise there was a way that you could come back to me after all, and it started to eat away at me inside. I knew how incredibly unlikely it was that that would happen, but as time went on, I began to dream more and more about some miracle, where suddenly you would awaken and be brought back into my life. The trouble was, I wasn't thinking rationally. "In my idiotic fantasy, it was impossible for me to picture you as anything other than a man. It took a long time for me to come to my senses and realise how stupid I was to hope that, because even if the impossible happened, it wouldn't be a dream come true, but a waking nightmare. For you. And for me. "It felt like an icy hand clutching at my heart, this awful realisation that was creeping over me, because I was slowly becoming aware that it would mean you'd be ... you see, I finally understood that because of what had been done to you, if you came back to me, the only way you could ever come back would be as a female, and I didn't want to wish that on you, not on my poor, darling Jonn, and I didn't want to wish it upon myself either. So I ended up praying I'd lost you for ever. For both our sakes. It was the most horrible feeling in the world. It reminded me about an old story I read once, "The Monkey's Paw," that ended with a father wishing his son dead. That's what I felt like, wishing you gone for ever. But now ... I am so sorry this has happened, because we've been reunited with an insurmountable barrier between us, as impossible as the glass wall that separated us from each other in the farewell room." "Can we change the subject?" Korine sniffed, trying to collect her thoughts and shake off the feeling of morbidity that was threatening to overwhelm her. "Maybe there's something else you think we'd be able to talk about right now? The weather, perhaps? or the sports results?" "Yes, there is." "What, then?" "The last time I saw you, you ... you were ..." Marna put her hand on her lower abdomen. "I am a father? I've wanted to ask you that since I got here, but I haven't been able to work up the courage." "No. No, you're not. I'm a mother, but how could you possibly be a father? Don't torture yourself by even thinking about it." Finally, a tear ran from Korine's eye. Marna sighed, although it sounded more like frustration than exasperation, "Is Jonn a father?" "He was, or rather, he would have been." "Oh, my God! Is it a boy or a girl? What's its name?" "'Its,' name," replied Korine, "Is Kiera, and she's the most beautiful little thing in the world." "Of course she is," replied Marna, "How could she not be? May I see her? Please?" "I suppose so," Korine said, kindly. "Since at least she's part of your soul." Korine led Marna upstairs. Several times she stopped and turned, putting her finger to her lips to remind the younger woman to be as quiet as possible. They reached a door painted a light shade of pastel pink and Korine again turned, this time to find that Marna had her own finger on her own lips, and was nodding as if to say, "Yes, I know," The door opened noiselessly and they crept inside. The room was not quite dark, so a child's bed was easily visible in the corner. Korine lifted a teddy bear from the floor at the bedside and replaced it alongside the bed's occupant, who was only a little bit larger than the toy. The movement made the child turn to face them and settle down again without waking, her hand on the pillow. Marna gave a slight gasp. She gently placed her own trembling hand on the pillow beside the girl's, wanting to hold it but not daring to, for fear of waking her. She had a perfect view of an angelic little face, wispy blonde hair floating around it. She sensed a movement from Korine and automatically stepped back to allow the mother to secure the bed covers around her sleeping child. Korine tucked her in lovingly, gently brushed her hair away from her face, and kissed her on the forehead. When she turned around to smile at Marna, she was no longer beside her. For the entire evening Marna had succeeded, against almost impossible odds, to hold her emotions in check and not break down in front of Korine, because she had known that from that point onwards, meaningful conversation would have been impossible. At the sight of the sleeping child, the battle had finally been lost. Korine found her outside the bedroom door, back to the wall, shaking profusely, tears running uncontrollably down her face; Marna could feel the same cruel barrier that divided her from Korine erecting itself between her and Kiera, only this time it hurt much, much more, because this was something she had never had, and therefore did not even have happy memories to cling to. Korine laid one hand on Marna's shoulder and the girl fell into her arms, weeping onto her and drawing out her own tears to join them. "We have a daughter," Marna sobbed, "A beautiful little girl. That was the loveliest sight I've ever seen. She's perfect. And I lost her before she was even born." "You don't really," whispered Korine, as empathetically as she could, "She's Jonn's daughter, not yours. It's been made impossible for you to fill that role, and you'll only drive yourself mad if you try." "I feel so helpless. I know this is my own fault, but what's been done to me is brutal and inhuman. Now I'll never be able to hold her in Jonn's arms, the way she deserved to be held by her father, the one thing I can never do. The one thing I can never be." "Don't," Korine pleaded, "please don't do this to yourself." Then she realised that the girl was leaning against her not just because she was distraught. She was exhausted. Physically and emotionally. "You're fit to drop," she said. Marna nodded, rubbing their heads together through their hair. "Come on, the bed in the spare room is ready. You can just hop in." The girl began to cry again. "Sssh, it's okay," Korine added, trying to encourage her, without realising what she had done. However inviting the thought of sleep may have been, Korine's statement inadvertently made Marna slip deeper into regret. Jonn and Korine had deliberately bought an ap with three bedrooms because they had intended to have more than one child, something that, now, could never be. She stumbled slightly as she was guided to the room she was to occupy. "It's this one, the last door on the ..." Korine began, but bit back her words as it became obvious that her companion knew exactly where she was going. "Of course, you know that." "Yes. I remember helping to decide." "I'll fetch your case. You go on in." When Korine returned, she knocked on the door. "Just come in," came the reply. "It's fine." Marna had removed everything but her briefs, and was sitting at an angle on the bed, her arms wrapped around her chest. Korine, slightly embarrassed, turned her back to open the case, pulling out the first item of clothing she could find that would do as a night-dress. "Will this do?" she said, holding it out behind her without looking round. "It doesn't matter," Marna replied sadly, "as your husband I'd nothing to hide from you. Nowadays I still don't, but for a completely different reason, unfortunately." Korine turned her head slightly in acknowledgement, just as the girl stood up to pull the night-dress over her head. She did not look directly at her, but did not need to. Her peripheral vision told her everything she needed to know, so perfect was Marna's figure. Lithe, smooth, without blemish, understated curves, breasts small and perfectly shaped, her hair kissing her shoulders. An image of perfection. The night-dress fell over her body and Korine turned. "Get to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning." "Depends what you mean by, 'Feel.'" They smiled wryly at each other. Marna fell onto the bed with the upturned cover falling just out of arm's reach and Korine took pity on her as she saw her grasping unsuccessfully for it, too tired to raise herself from where she lay. She lifted the cover and gently placed it over the sleeping girl, who had dropped off before Korine had had time to tuck her in, which she did just as lovingly as she had done for Kiera. She turned, put off the light, and slipped out of the room. 6. The Future Tense Korine was in the kitchen, thoughtfully sipping a cup of coffee, when Marna appeared the following morning. She was immediately struck by how small the girl seemed, and how fragile she looked in her knee-length night-dress, hanging from narrow shoulders and nestling into the space between her breasts, which were themselves small enough to be barely discernible. The slight figure made Korine's heart ache; she sorely wished, for both their sakes, that it had been the taller, more powerful form of Jonn Hamming who had entered, looking her in the eye and awakening the passion that still lay dormant in her breast. This beautiful, delicate creature did nothing to stir her. More than one barrier, she began to realise, was imposing itself between them. Marna sat down opposite her and to begin with they spoke very little to each other as they ate. That changed when a small voice broke the near silence, turning both heads a the same time and making Marna's heart melt as she got her first proper look at Jonn's daughter. "Mommy!" Kiera said before running to her mother and raising her arms, asking to be lifted. She then looked uncertainly at Marna before burying her face in Korine's hair. "Good morning, Kiera," said Korine. "Did you have a good, long sleep?" The child nodded several times without lifting her head. "This nice lady," Korine continued, making Marna's heart jump at the subtle intrusion of the barrier, yet again, between herself and someone she cared deeply for. "Is Mommy's friend." Those three words felt like a dagger. "Kiera, say hello to Marna. Marna, this is Kiera." "Hello, Kiera," Marna said. The child took a few moments before she reluctantly lifted her head to look round and deliver a timid, "Hello," before returning her face to safety as quickly as possible. Korine was wise enough not to try to force her daughter into talking to a stranger before she was ready, so she allowed Kiera to cling to her while she and Marna chatted. Presently, Kiera sat up and began to take an interest, and before long she was sitting on Marna's knee, drinking fruit juice, and expecting whatever she pointed at, to be provided immediately. The one thing that Marna found mildly distressing was Kiera's inability to get her two-and-a-bit year old tongue around her name. She and Korine eventually gave up and forced themselves to accept the fact that Kiera's best effort at saying, "Marna," was fated to come out as, "Man." Marna and Korine looked sadly at each other, both deploring the cruel irony. The next day or two passed in much the same vein as the first evening of their reunion, both managing to avoid the subject of their broken relationship while still making it clear to the other how much they rued the events of the past few years and their bitter sundering from each other as lovers. Kiera's role was a strange one; at times her delightful presence took their minds off things completely, leaving them contentedly happy; at others, she served as a painful reminder of how much all three had lost. Some welcome relief did arrive in the form of a dev contact from Annah to Marna, who gasped and looked up at Korine, immediately alerting her to the fact she had been startled. "It's Mom," she said, then corrected herself, "Mrs. Vicker. Annah." "Answer her, then." "What will I say?" "How about, "Hi?" That's usually a good start." Marna's hand shook as she prodded at her holoscreen. "Mom," she opened, failing to suppress the emotion in her voice, made worse by the fact she could not fathom why she felt the way she did. "Hi, darling," came the faint response. Marna had not enabled her dev's privacy bubble, so Korine was able to hear the conversation. There was a pause, as neither mother nor daughter could think of anything to say. Finally Marna decided that, as Annah had spoken last, it must be her own turn. "How are you?" she squeaked, "How is ... Dad?" "We're both all right," came the downhearted reply. "But I'd be lying if I told you everything is fine. Your dad and I don't talk to each other as much as we used to, and when we do it's almost always about something practical. Something we have to talk about, not something we want to talk about. He usually goes out walking on his own. We always used to go together. I used to love that. Now I think we're just drifting apart." "This is all my fault, isn't it?" "No. Don't say that. It's just something that can't be helped." Marna was biting her lip and seemed distressed, so Korine moved over and put a friendly arm around her. Sitting so close to Marna, she and Annah were able to see each other. "Is there anything either Marna or I can do to help?" Korine asked. "You must be Korine Hamming. I think I remember you." "Yes, I am." "Can I see you? Both of you. I'd like to meet you too, Korine." "Em," Korine looked at Marna, who seemed to have no objection, so she replied. "When?" "If I tell my husband I'm going shopping this afternoon, we could meet then." "Both of you? Will your husband be coming with you?" "No, just me. I wasn't going to tell Grad I'm seeing you." "Where do you want to meet?" "I think I hear him. You decide. I'll ping you once I'm on my way, and you can ping me where." Before Korine had a chance to reply, the call ended and Annah was gone. "Marna's mom and dad aren't getting on. You've got to cope with me being in this body, and I've got to cope with being ... I've ruined everyone's lives. Not just my own." Korine stared at her for some time before she spoke, carefully and slowly. "There's no point in trying to blame anyone for the situation we all find ourselves in, not even in anyone trying to blame themselves. The only thing we can do is try to salvage as much as we can, and that means we have to accept our lives the way they are, no matter how hard we have to struggle to make ourselves do that." Marna said nothing in reply; her eyes were downcast and she simply nodded. It was clear to Korine that the struggle she was making herself deal with at that precise moment was the one of keeping her emotions in check. Korine put her arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. "You did that like you were comforting a little girl." There was no possible retort to Marna's comment, so Korine could only watch the younger woman suffer the pain of being impaled on her own barb. * Korine left Marna to her own thoughts for a while and busied herself tidying up, then making fresh coffee, which was gratefully accepted when offered. Korine then brought the subject around to Annah and where they were going to meet her. "We can meet in one of the Recs," Korine suggested. "Not Rec.17, please. Anywhere but there." "No, don't worry, and we'll have Kiera with us in any case. Rec.21 serves the best coffee, and it's my favourite Rec." "When did you start visiting Recs? You used to hate them. You said home was a hundred times better than any Rec," "After I lost you, a few of my friends took me under their wing, and that's our usual hangout.'" "Good. I'm glad you have a social life." "I still see them quite a bit, if that's okay. Hope you don't mind." "Why should I mind? I'm not exactly in a position to be jealous of you, am I? It's not as if sex is back on the menu, or anything like that, is it? At least, not for me." Korine immediately took the point and did her best to try to soothe Marna's feelings, but did not get very far with her clumsy attempt at a platitude before she was summarily interrupted. "I'm sure that if we work at our relationships between ourselves and with other people, we can ..." "I have been made physically incapable of participating in sexual intercourse in the only way I'd want." "No-one, least of all yourself, could expect you to be exactly happy with the way things are, could they? All I ask is that you give yourself time." "Time to do what? accept? forget?" "Accept, I hope. Eventually. No-one gets to choose their body. We all have to learn to make do with what we have, learn to live our lives and interact with other people in the role our bodies force us into." "So what's your great plan to make me fit this Procrustean bed I'm trapped in?" "We go and meet Annah. We drink girly drinks, we talk about girly things, and act all girly, cooing over my little girl. We try to forget that once upon a time we weren't all as girly as we all are now. We fit in." Marna laughed out of partial bemusement. "Oh, and wear something girly. No need to look at me like that." * Korine and Marna were sitting at a table in the middle of Rec.21 when Annah walked in. She looked around, unable to see them at first, but when Korine raised her hand to wave, she spotted them immediately and smiled happily. "Hi," she said to Korine as she took her seat; the word was curt (although not unfriendly) but her uneasy attitude immediately melted when she spotted Kiera perched on the chair next to her. "Hello," she said, then smiled warmly at Korine, saying, "She's beautiful. What's her name?" "Kiera." "Hello, Kiera, My name's Annah. I'm very pleased to meet you." Her attention then switched to her daughter without further delay. "Hello, Marna," she said, and those two words were at once smooth, loving and heartbreaking. "Hi ... Mom? I can still call you Mom, can't I? You don't mind?" "Mind? I love hearing you call me Mom." Marna smiled, easily and contentedly. The three women chatted for a while until Annah had to excuse herself and go to the break room. "Are you all right?" Korine asked Marna, who nodded reassuringly. "Yes, of course," she replied. At that point the outside door of the Rec opened and a young man walked in. He strolled to an empty table and flipped up his holoscreen to order something. "He's a bit of, isn't he?" Korine said, leaning forward to whisper. "Korine! What are you talking about? Need I remind you who I am?" "Don't try to come over all innocent. I saw the way you were looking at him." "I wasn't looking at him. Don't be ridiculous. Why would I be looking at a guy?" "Can't fool me, sister!" "Sister?" Marna now sat back in her chair, looking betrayed. "Sorry, forgot to let you down gently, there. Anyhow, it's not gonna be, "Lover," is it? Unless it's with him." "Korine!" Any further argument was cancelled by the return of Annah. "So," she opened as she retook her seat, "Want me to go, so that you two girls can swoon over that handsome guy at the table over there?" "Who, him?" said Korine, looking over her shoulder, "No, we hardly noticed him." The conversation resumed, and the three chatted easily, until it was Marna's turn to leave the table. Once she was out of earshot, Annah turned to Korine. "How is she?" she asked urgently. "As well as you could expect," Korine responded slowly. "She's a bit confused about who she is, and how she's going to relate to people, but that's not really a surprise, is it?" "Sometimes I think that she recognises me and loves me, or at least wants to recognise me and love me." "I think you're right. She obviously has a strong emotional attachment to you, even if she can't remember it, and her mind can't understand it. "What can we do? What can I do?" "Give her time to adjust." "Do you think she will?" "We all need to rebuild our relationships with her from the ground up. Hard as that will be for us, it is we who should pity her, because she has to do that with every single person she knows, and every single person she ever knew, but can't remember." "It must be horrible." Korine nodded knowingly. That was all the time they had, for Marna returned at that point. This was something Korine had noticed about her; visits to the break room were more like the masculine trait of being purely perfunctory. Her visit was made for one reason and one reason only, and having washed her hands afterwards, she then left. There was no lingering, no critical examination of her reflection, no socialising and the forging of bonds with her fellow women. Eventually, hopefully, that would come. The remainder of the afternoon passed pleasantly enough. When the time came to part, Marna gladly hugged Annah, something her mother was clearly delighted with. Later that evening the conversation took a more serious turn, when Korine broached the subject of Ed.5, and reminded Marna that she was due to return for her second year, a few days hence. "I wasn't going to go back." "You're joking!" "It's not my Ed.5 place. It belongs to someone else, Marna Vicker." "Marna, you are Marna Vicker. You are, whether you like it or not. That makes it your place." "I feel it would be like trying to steal someone else's life. I'd feel like a fraud." "What else are you going to do? You need this for your future. Your career." "I don't know anyone there. I'll have no friends. " "You'll make them easily enough. You're beautiful and intelligent. No problem there." "I don't remember anything of her first year work." "She was studying law. Jonn was a lawyer, so you should be able to slot straight in. All your Ed.5 finance is in place for the three years you have left. You're a lawyer; you should know that." "You're contradicting yourself now. Am I Jonn Hamming, lawyer, or Marna Vicker, who's not a lawyer? Not yet, anyway." "Stop trying to be so clever. You're not wriggling out of it that way." "There's no point in having this argument anyway. Even with Marna's Ed.5 finance, I'd still have to live. I've no money, and nowhere to stay." "Keep the same ap. The landlord can make an anonymous transfer of tenancy to me. Your father need never know, but your mother would be delighted." "How? I can't afford it." "I can." "No, I couldn't. I've no right to expect that of you." "Why not? It's your money. Just because your body doesn't have any legal claim on it, it doesn't mean you've no moral right. You left me a very wealthy widow. You deserve it." Marna stared back at Korine, looking uncertain. Korine decided the time had come to broach a subject that had been neglected for far too long. "There's something I've wanted to say for a while now, and I think we need to discuss it now." Marna continued to stare, her face a mask. She did not, though, give any sign that her words were unwelcome, so Korine continued. "I think the way you relate to the people around you is at the root of your unhappiness, and I think the way you see yourself is the key to the whole problem." The two women sat and talked long into the night. Eventually they smiled in agreement, hugged, then walked upstairs to Korine's room hand in hand, undressed, then slipped into bed together. They fell asleep straight away, and in the morning, when they woke, still holding each other, the future seemed much brighter than it had for a long time. * Marna returned to IL.Ed.5 and seamlessly took up where she had left off at the end of her first year. In that respect, the only thing anyone thought curious was that, having already been the top student in her first year, she now well exceeded even her own high standards, and exhibited a grasp of the subtleties and finer points of law, and a level of maturity and experience far beyond her years. Being so bright and personable, her friendships recovered quickly, and soon the new Marna had an even bigger social circle than the original version. Term.1 passed in a blur and before she knew it, Winter Thanks had arrived and she was back in IL.49 with Korine. Annah visited the very next day. That evening, after a lingering, heartfelt farewell to her mother, Marna sat quietly, both sipping one of Korine's unauthorised ethanol-based liquids. Any time Korine tried to start a conversation, it was either ignored, or brought to a rapid but unsatisfactory conclusion with a one- word response. Finally, the two turned in for the night. Korine was slightly worried about Marna, but decided to let the matter rest for the moment. However, when she crossed the hall after checking on Kiera and tucking her in, she heard a sound that made her stop. As quietly as she could, she tiptoed along and stood outside Marna's bedroom to listen. From the other side of the door, the sounds were quite clear. They were the sounds of a woman crying quietly to herself. Slowly and carefully, Korine pushed the door open and made her way over to the bed. She had sat down on the edge before the occupant became aware of her presence. There was a momentary pause, then the sobbing resumed, but this time it sounded slightly less pained, as if the girl felt comforted. "Do you want me to sit here with you for a while?" she asked Marna. "I'll be all right. I was just feeling a bit overwhelmed, but it'll pass." "Do you want to talk about it?" "Not now. It's just that ... I've got so many regrets about how I've hurt people and let them down. It gets to me sometimes. It hurts." "Now's as good a time as any." Marna shook her head. "What I really need is to get some sleep." Korine bent down and kissed her on the forehead. "If you need me, you know where to find me," she said. A little while later, Korine was on the point of dropping off to sleep when she heard a noise from behind her. She sat up to see Marna framed by the open door. Neither spoke; Korine lifted the bed covers and shuffled backwards. She still slept in the double bed that had belonged to herself and Jonn, so there was plenty of room for Marna to climb in beside her. She lowered the covers over the trembling little creature, who clung to her side like a child, then lay on her back and slipped her arm around her, in exactly the same way Jonn used to do when she slept with him. The sobbing slowly subsided and soon she realised her companion had fallen asleep. Korine followed shortly afterwards. The following morning, she woke to find herself alone in bed. Initially disquieted, she hurried downstairs, but to her relief, she discovered Marna bustling about in the kitchen, humming quietly to herself. "Morning," she chirped happily when she spotted Korine. "Breakfast's nearly ready. What would you like?" All day, Marna was in much better spirits. That set the scene for the next few days to come; Marna and Korine spent their time chatting happily, making trips into the town centre, where they met Annah on a couple of occasions. Five or six days later, though, two days before Marna was due to leave for Ed.5, there was another occurrence. Korine, who this time was asleep, woke to find Marna standing over her at the side of the bed. She sat up quickly and asked the question with her eyes. "I need you you," was the reply. "Of course." Marna snuggled up beside Korine as before; she was trembling and sobbing slightly. "Do you want to talk about it?" Marna shook her head. "We talked last Summer Thanks, do you remember? We both felt much better." "It's just that, every so often, I find myself desperately wishing that you and I were together the way we used to be. Then I get a horrible feeling of hopelessness, because it's gone for ever." "I know. There's nothing we can do that will ever bring that back." "Just hold me. I was feeling ... so lonely." Korine woke the following morning to find Marna still sleeping, still with her head on her shoulder, and the two women still with interlinked arms. She shifted a little, to relieve the slight feeling of pins and needles, and the movement made Marna begin to stir. She could feel her flexing her fingers and turning her own arm, lying as it was trapped between them, accompanied with a contented sigh. The arm that lay across her came to life, pulling them towards each other and pressing their bodies together. She looked down at the girl's lovely face and was met by a radiant, loving smile. The smile only lasted a few moments, before realisation, followed by sadness, crept into the corners of her eyes. The smile began to lose its sparkle and her face fell. Korine, troubled, kissed her on the forehead but the girl did not respond. She continued to stare stonily into space. "What's wrong? When you smiled at me there, you looked so happy. What happened? Why so sad?" Marna sighed deeply and took a moment to collect her thoughts before she replied. "It's nice sleeping in your bed, and waking up is ... is wonderful, even if it has to be paid for." "Paid for? What do you mean?" "In the morning, there are a few moments of pure bliss, before reality takes me." Korine said nothing, but Marna could feel herself being held very slightly closer. "As I come to, everything is perfect. You and I are snuggled up together the way we should be; the way we always were. But ... all it takes is for me to breathe a few times before I become aware of my breasts, then very quickly I realise that I'm pressed up against you, but with no erection. That's when the horrible truth hits me, and hits me hard. It hurts. A lot. But what hurts the most is not the absence of a male body, but the absence of male emotions. It's my desire for you that seems to be disappearing, and that's what frightens me the most. I feel as if I'm losing the one thing that I thought could never, ever be taken away from me: my love for you. That's the thing that, most of all, makes me feel empty and ... cut off. Loneliness is a horrible feeling. "When I said cut off, I meant cut off from you, not ..." "I know what you meant." "I feel emotionally castrated, not physically." "Yes, I understand. So maybe we simply shouldn't sleep together, if waking up causes so much pain," Korine said, sounding reluctant, as if she were afraid Marna would agree with her. "No, no, I didn't mean that!" came the urgent reply, making a feeling of intense relief wash over Korine. "It's just that ... because it feels so good to begin with, that makes the realisation seem so bad. But no matter what follows, it's always worth it, to be able to cherish that wonderful moment where, just for a tiny fragment of time, I can relive the feeling I used to have when we were together the way we should be. I have to put up with the awful truth all day, every day, so even a point triple-oh of forgetfulness is worth it." Korine lay silently, letting Marna's words sink in. Then the girl spoke again. "The thing is," she said, surprising Korine with the way her tone of voice switched so suddenly from a warm happiness to a tear-stained cackle, "I know that every time I experience that wonderful feeling, the time it lasts will get less and less, and I know the day will come when I don't get it at all, and then I know I will never have that feeling ever again. "I'll wake up knowing I'm a woman, expecting to be a woman, and never again will I experience that fleeting ecstasy of believing we're together again as the real you and me." * Days turned into years, and it was not long before Marna's final Ed.5 semester arrived and she was bidding farewell to Korine and a now six- year-old Kiera, who had long ago, to Marna's relief, stopped calling her, "Man." Life for all was in general settled and happy, but as time progressed Marna's sorrowful prediction had slowly and relentlessly overwhelmed her crumbling resolve. Upon waking in the morning, her body no longer surprised or distressed her, and all she succeeded in clinging to was a lingering sadness at the disappearance of the true bond, however intangible it may have been, between her and Korine, and that the tiny thread that had so tenuously bound them together, had finally snapped, casting them both adrift. On those occasions where she slept in Korine's bed, they woke together as two sisters would, and neither experienced the blissful illusion that once they had shared. Every Summer and Winter Thanks was spent at home with Korine, and Annah was still a regular companion. Marna was getting to know her birth mother very well by this time, and Annah had even begun to visit her and Korine at their ap. It was always a source of regret that Marna could never visit Annah, but all three women agreed that Grad's wishes were clear, and such an infraction would be overstepping the mark. Not all had been plain sailing, though. When Marna had arrived home for the previous Summer Thanks, she had been met by a slightly guilty Korine, who quickly admitted that she was not alone. She then introduced Marna to John, her boyfriend, but who was not, in fact, living with Korine full-time. During the holiday, he only stayed on the occasional night. When asked, Korine assured Marna that nothing had changed because of her presence, and John did not usually sleep with her any more frequently than he was at the moment. Despite her outward honesty, Marna formed the distinct impression that she was, if not lying, at least bending the truth, and that John was a much more frequent sleeping partner than she was being led to believe. That realisation only added to the feelings of regret that began to grow on Marna when she learnt of the relationship between Korine and John. Perhaps if Korine had been more open, if she had not tried to soften the blow, if she had allowed a natural three-way friendship to form instead of attempting to compartmentalise her two relationships; that with her ex-husband, and that with her boyfriend, Marna would not have felt so let down by herself. As it was she found herself drifting into a state of regression, where her gradual acceptance of her new life was being threatened by regret piling up upon regret. She would lie awake some nights, haunted by the thought of John in her place, making love to Korine, surrounding her with his strong arms, enjoying her gentleness and her softness, fulfilling the role that her own body had robbed her of. As it turned out, the relationship between Korine and John, instead of threatening to derail the final stages of Marna's recovery, had the opposite effect. It allowed her finally to shake herself free of her unhealthy yearning for the past that even then had been lurking at the back of her mind. Before long, it was rare for Korine to sleep alone. When John was not with her, she and Marna almost always occupied the same bed, chattering and giggling like schoolgirls, and waking the next morning, comforted by each other's warmth. Then everything changed again. 7. The Shape of Things to Come It was about half way through Marna's final semester at Ed.5 that she finally relented to one of the endless string of offers from her friends to join them at one of the Ed.5 Recs. This was far from her first visit; Ed.5 Rec.2 had been one of her favourite haunts during her first two or three semesters, when the pressure of work had been a little lighter, and she had still been in the process of making friends. As her Ed.5 career progressed, though, she found herself avoiding the so-called party scene more and more, and while she socialised enough to maintain good friendships throughout, neither did she earn her self a reputation for anything other than hard work and study. It was something of a pleasant change, then, to find herself in the company of a handful of good friends, making the most of an opportunity they had awarded themselves, to relax and forget all about study for a point-one or so. She and her companions sat in a circular bench around their table, chatting contentedly, Marna talking mainly to Rana and Garrie, her two closest friends, who were perched on either side of her. The conversation among the three ranged from course work to home life, but very quickly homed in on boyfriends, and even more quickly on why someone as attractive as Marna was single. Marna and Rana were similar in appearance; both had the same dark brown hair and eyes, though, while Marna had a slight edge in terms of looks, there was no need for envy on Rana's part, nor was there. Garrie, on the other hand, was blonde and blue-eyed with a strong, square jaw that possessed the entrancing ability to melt into feminine vulnerability at will. Her pale beauty contrasted perfectly with the soft, sallow gorgeousness of her two friends. "My turn," Marna said, making both she and Rana giggle as she unceremoniously clambered over her friend to reach the gap in the bench, before making her way to the bar. Ed.5 Rec.2 was a highly unusual establishment: there was only one sound isolation bubble, the mandatory one surrounding the whole place (and most people believed the legal requirement was the only reason for its existence), which meant that conversation and other noise could pervade the whole room; the tables were completely flat, with no service ring or speaker column; almost unbelievably, the ethanol compounds used to make drinks were actually kept in full view of the customers, in a long gallery at one side of the room, with a serving surface (nicknamed the, "Bar," by the students) in front. It was well over a hundred years since any Rec had been organised thus, but such an arrangement was in perfect keeping with the radical, rebellious streak that was such a large part of the personality of most Ed.5 students. Marna stood at the bar, waiting to be served, when she was taken by surprise. "Hi," a voice said next to her. She turned and saw a face she vaguely recognised. One of the students in her year, she thought; yes, she remembered seeing him at some of her lectures, usually sitting near the back. Not bad looking, she remembered thinking at the time, but now that she saw him up close, she decided she had done him an injustice. "I hope you don't mind," he continued, sounding slightly bashful, "but I saw you standing there and I wondered if you'd let me buy you a drink." For a fleeting moment, it felt to Marna as if the world around her had faded out of existence, leaving herself and the man next to her alone together, floating in the clouds, but then she snapped back to reality again and out of the corner of her eye she became aware of Rana and Garrie laughing, clinking their glasses, and obviously toasting her with a sip from the remnants of their drinks. Rana left her seat after a quick word with Garrie that consisted mainly of nodding in agreement, and made her way to the bar. Marna did not glance at her, but could not avoid noticing the knowing wink that said, "I'm getting one for Garrie and myself. You stay where you are and repeat after me: "Yes, please, I'd love you to buy me a drink.'" "Oh, em, that would be nice. Thank you." The man smiled, probably in relief for the most part. "I'm Jayson. What's your name?" "Marna." "Marna. That's a lovely name." "'That's a lovely name?'" she thought to herself. "What a cliche! What a dork. What an ungainly, nervous, loveable, idiotic, gorgeous dork." "Thank you," she replied and blushed in delight. Marna did not speak another word to her friends all that night. She and Jayson found an empty table and sat together for the rest of the evening, talking quietly. Her friends left the couple in peace, although Marna was aware, from time to time, of being discreetly watched, and giggled over. Jayson walked her home and stood chivalrously at the door while she entered, waiting until he was satisfied it had closed behind her, and she was safely inside, before he turned to leave. Marna ran to the window as quickly as she could, barely managing to catch a glimpse of him before he reached the corner and disappeared from view. The following morning, almost as soon as she had walked out of her front door, Rana and Garrie came running up to her and positioned themselves, one on either side, to walk with her. Marna suspected they had been lying in wait for a while, to make sure she did not escape interrogation. "Well?" "Well what?" "How did you get on last night?" "Did he stay?" "Fine. And no." "Come on! There must be more to tell than that!" "We're just friends." "How friendly did you get last night?" "Stop it!" The three friends staggered along the road, pushing and bumping into each other as they laughed. * Marna and Jayson did not see each other as often as either would have liked, until later in the semester. Both were very much occupied with their own studying, and the exams were looming. For the next forty or fifty days, they only spoke when they happened to meet by chance, in one of the Ed.5 Recs, which at that part of their academic careers was always during daytime. However, when they did meet, it was always with genuine pleasure, and they both quickly got into the habit of making sure that any time they visited one of the Recs, they either came alone or in a group of three or more, to avoid having to abandon one of their friends. After the exams, Marna's life took a completely different turn and she felt like she had been swept off her feet by a whirlwind. It was ten days between the final exam paper and assessment day, then a further five until Graduation. All the students, suddenly relieved of their academic burden, found themselves with so much free time on their hands that no-one could think of a viable alternative to endless celebration, Marna included. Day after day, she and Jayson spent almost all of their time in each other's company, walking, sitting, talking, drinking coffee, and in the evenings at a quiet table for two in one of the student Recs, eating, drinking, or both. A few days after they had started to see each other seriously, Marna was on a dev call to Korine when the conversation turned to the subject of how she had been spending her time since the exams. That was the first time Korine had heard about Jayson, and she quizzed Marna mercilessly for point-oh after point-oh. Finally, once she had given up on squeezing any more information out of her, she asked the question she had been leading up to all along. "Have you slept with him?" "No." Marna was not lying, but there was a very strong feeling at the back of her mind that, had Korine asked that same question not many days later, and received the same answer, she very well may have been. "When I come to Graduation, will I meet him then?" "Em, yes, I suppose so." "And when you come home afterwards, is he coming with you?" "Dunno. Why?" "Oh, I just thought ..." "He's not my prisoner, you know. That would actually be his decision." "Pleased to hear it." Marna laughed; half from humour, half from puzzlement. "What do you mean?" "I mean I'm delighted to hear you've decided, and now it's just up to him." "What? Korine, no! I ... oh God, can't we just talk about something else?" A few days after that, Marna and Jayson found themselves back in Ed.5 Rec.2, at the same table as on their first night together. After two drinks, Jayson asked Marna if she wanted another. "Actually, no," she replied, "Do you mind if we go for a walk?" "Not at all, a walk would be good." They meandered aimlessly for a little while, hand in hand, chatting about things important or trivial as the mood took them, before Marna feigned a yawn. "I feel worn out," she said, laughing apologetically, "I think I should turn in." "We've been partying non-stop for days," Jayson replied, "An early night would probably do you the world of good." Marna smiled in response, her eyes sparkling as she nodded in agreement. "Yeah," she whispered softly. "Walk me home?" Jayson interlaced his fingers with hers and they strolled towards Marna's ap, at whiles with his arm round her waist, before returning to find her hand again. Before long, they were standing on her threshold watching the door slide open. She stepped inside, then hesitated, trying to calm her nerves before she turned to look at him. "Would you like to come in?" she gushed shakily. "I don't have any illegal drinks, but I could offer you tea, coffee, or ..." "That would be nice," he replied, "I'd like to." "Or fruit juice," she blabbered. "Water. You could have water, if you like." "A cup of tea would be perfect, thanks." She led him to the living room while she bustled into the kitchen. Shortly, they were perched uneasily at either end of the sofa, sipping at a drink that neither of them particularly wanted. The conversation had lost its natural flow, and did not seem able to find the easy-going rhythm it had had earlier. Presently, Jayson looked steadily at her and smiled disarmingly. "That was nice tonight. I really enjoyed it." "Me too," she replied, placing her cup on the table and returning her hands to her lap. She smiled at him, completely motionless. "I should be going." Jayson rose. She copied his movement and stood facing him about a metre away, her arms at her sides. She smiled at him, completely motionless. Jayson took a step forward and placed his hands gently on her shoulders, leant forwards and kissed her on her right cheek before stepping back again and smiling wistfully. There was something in his body language that told Marna he was going to head for the door, but that he also felt a reluctance, not to stay against her wishes, but to let go of a beautiful moment. Obviously, that tender, respectful kiss was a dream come true and he was about to leave, having delivered fair lady to safety, and make his own way home, his heart soaring. How chivalrous. What a dork. What an ungainly, nervous, loveable, idiotic, gorgeous dork. Marna was having none of that. Before he had time to turn, she stepped forwards, straight up to him and stood, their bodies touching, her upturned face so close to his that nothing else would be possible. He kissed her. Her arms still hung at her sides, waiting for the initiative to be taken. It was his turn. He first placed his hands on her waist, then one slid behind her while the other moved to encircle her shoulders. The elbow dropped, hooking itself behind her back while his fingers ran through her hair and his hand held her head. He pulled her so close that, had she relaxed every muscle in her body, she would not have moved or fallen a fraction, so perfectly was she supported. She did not relax, though. Instead, one arm found its way round his waist while the other crept up his arm, exploring strong shoulders that made her breathe unsteadily. The next move was hers. She twisted slightly sideways, Jayson making no attempt to restrain her. Then she leant backwards, not quite as if she were falling, but enough to make him act. Instinctively, he slid one arm beneath her, lifting her off her feet, looking at her in surprised delight. Marna still had one arm around his shoulders; the other she placed on the side of his head and half leant, half pulled him into a kiss. She then rested her forehead against his and rolled her head around, so that both were facing the same way, heads still together, and both were able to watch her raise her hand and point towards the corner of the room. "That door," she whispered. * Jayson set her down on her feet at the side of the bed. His arms were still around her and he seemed unsure, even now, of exactly what was the right thing to do. She took the lead again. She began with his top button, and quickly worked her way to his waist then, his shirt open, she pushed it backwards from his shoulders. He complied by dropping his arms, allowing the shirt to flutter to the floor. She clicked his waistband release and his jeans pooled around his ankles. Her blouse had an intellimag fastening which she pulled open from the bottom up, discarding it without a glance. Marna could hardly believe her good fortune. She and Jayson were alone in her bedroom, she was undressing both of them. Yet here he was, still slightly unsure of himself, still determined to be respectful, still that loveable, gorgeous dork. She stepped against him and kissed him passionately. If that did not give him the message, nothing would. Just to make sure, she took hold of each of his hands and slid them down her waist towards her hips, making sure that his fingers slipped inside the waistband of her skirt. She could tell from the way her kiss was returned that her message had at last sunk in and her permission had finally been accepted. She felt the band of her skirt loosen and fall from her waist, his hands sliding over her hips to help it on its way. They both stepped out of their shoes, he needing to use his other foot to free each heel. They bent, as if bowing to each other; he pushing jeans, socks, shoes over his feet; she peeling off her stockings. Their heads bumped gently against each other and both gave an equally gentle, bashful, breathy laugh. The laugh stopped as abruptly as the bump that had caused it and they looked into each other's eyes. His hand found the strap across her back; she felt the tension release and she closed her eyes as his hands slid over her shoulders and along the length of her arms, then encircling her and pulling her to him, pressing softness against firmness. He gently guided her to the bed. She fingered the waistband of his one remaining piece of clothing and stopped, smiling to herself. There was still that unsure, respectful hesitation. She once again took his hands in hers and placed them on her own waistband, then returned to his. She pulled downwards. She felt him do the same, and both excitement and a sense of danger were all of a sudden making her tremble. She knew exactly what was going to happen to Jasyon; well did she remember what it was like for her, when she was in his place; when she had been Jonn; when she and Korine had undressed each other; what Korine's body used to do to her. Jayson slid his hands over her hips; this time over bare skin. He let go, and she felt her briefs tickle their way down, past her knees to land around her feet. Gently, he lowered her onto the bed. All this time they gazed, entranced, at each other, and Marna's heart was thumping. She knew what was happening to him; she was fully aware of the effect a woman's body has on a man. There was one thing she had yet to find out. The sight of her would release his passion, the animal at the core of his being, and soon she would discover what the nature of that animal would be. Would it be a grasping, selfish beast, intent only on using her body for its own gratification? or would it be a gentle, loyal companion for whom the joy of sex was the giving, rather than the receiving, of pleasure, and who lusted, not merely for her body, but for a mutual delight in the purest intimacy? Marna need not have worried. Naked and helpless in his arms, her effect on Jayson was to turn him into a tender, considerate lover, in awe of her beauty and softness, whose every touch was the discovery of perfection. His hands ran over her slowly and thrillingly, and when he finally discovered how receptive she was, he did not simply thrust himself on her. His amazement inspired him to draw her into a long, passionate kiss, and it was she whose hand searched for him, guiding him to her. Marna's male bias had made her fear she would feel used and humiliated by the female experience; instead that night was the most wonderful of her life. Never had she felt so loved or so treasured. The next morning, Jayson woke up with Marna cuddled into his back. It took a few moments before he remembered, and made sense of the delightful feeling of her pressed against him. He turned, waking her up in the process and they made love again. It was almost point-five before they finally rose and had a shower together, also wonderful, but in a different way. "I'll do your back." Marna obediently turned away from Jayson. "No, not like that. It's more fun if I can't see what I''m doing." He spin her round to face him and reached behind her, rubbing her back and pulling them close together. She giggled, then gasped in pleasure when she felt his erection rising between her thighs, pressing against her from beneath as it reached horizontal. "What, here? Now?" "If you want." "Down, boy!" "That's something that ain't gonna happen. Not while you're here, looking like that." They dried each other off, then made love, on top of the bed. Marna had to wash her hair again, because it had dried without being brushed. The following evening, Jayson was going out with some of his male friends, and Marna took the chance to go with Rana and Garrie, who were delighted to have her at their mercy. Every opportunity to quiz her was taken; by the end of the evening Marna was slightly drunk, and grateful for the excuse that gave her for avoiding the relentless grilling her friends were subjecting her to. The day after that was Assessment Day. Marna, having a fairly large ap, had already arranged for both Rana and Garrie to come round to wait for their results. When Jayson replied that he was planning on waiting with three of his friends, she invited all four of them to join the three girls, and was gratefully accepted. Marna and Jayson sat side by side on the sofa, much more comfortable in each other's company than on his first visit, at least to begin with. The others sloped around on chairs or the floor as they liked. Marna and Jayson sipped at cups of tea that, this time, they did want. The announcement was due to be made at point five, and was exactly on time. All seven devs alerted simultaneously and everyone flipped up their holoscreen to read their assessments. Everyone was relieved at least, as they had all passed. Marna and Jayson, however, had done particularly well. Jayson had qualified with distinction, finishing as the fourth top student in their year. Marna, though, was staring at her screen, her eyes wide and her mouth open in disbelief. "What?" Garrie and Jayson said at the same time. Jayson threw his arm around Marna, pulling her close enough to be able to read her holoscreen, and gasped. Not only had Marna finished top, she had done so with a near-perfect assessment, something to which no student in the history of Ed.5 had ever come remotely close. "Marna, that's brilliant," he enthused. "That's Amazing! Congratulations." They pulled each other into a kiss, which grew more and more passionate, before they remembered they had company and broke, making do with holding hands from then on. Rana, during the kiss, turned round to Garrie, and mouthed, "Wow!" The seven friends arranged to meet at Rec.2 later, to celebrate. The girls met very early at Marna's ap, giving them the pleasure of getting ready together. As time wore on, they became more and more excited, finally leaving Marna's bedroom looking as if it had been ransacked by burglars. Shortly afterwards their heels clicked confidently towards Rec.2, side by side, knee-length dresses swishing elegantly; Garrie's cornflower blue, Rana's deep red and Marna's delicate, light pink. Every head turned as they passed. The boys reached the entrance to the Rec at almost the same time, arriving from the opposite direction, and reacted in euphoria at the approaching sight, with even a mock wolf-whistle. At least, three of them reacted that way. The exception was Jayson, who seemed to be standing a fraction taller; he and Marna moved in what looked like slow-motion as he held out his hand and she took it. Rana and Garrie glanced at each other, wide-eyed. The evening became a relaxed, exuberant celebration, but as time wore on, their exhilaration gave way to a more muted mood as Rana, Garrie and Marna gradually became more serious, seeming to cast off the carefree attitude that the evening had begun with. Perhaps it was just a masculine trait, this ability to ignore impending loss, but it was the three girls who gradually became more sentimental and more aware of the impending finality of the evening, the realisation growing within them that tonight was a meeting of passing friends. The conversation among the girls became increasingly affectionate, and from time to time their eyes could be seen almost to be shining, but not with happiness. "Hey, what's up with you three? I thought we were supposed to be celebrating?" To Jayson's amazement, Marna, Rana and Garrie, almost as one, began to tear up. It was Rana who explained what the girls were feeling. "The reason we're here," she began slowly, but was immediately interrupted as the boys joined the conversation. "Is to celebrate." "Celebrate success." "Is to celebrate the successful conclusion of an important part of our lives." "That's the one. Party on!" "Conclusion." "Huh?" "Conclusion. Of a part of out lives. An important part of our lives." The three girls were sitting huddled together. Marna and Rana had their arms linked. Garrie's arm was around Rana's shoulders. Garrie took over to point out that, in a few days, the group would disperse; perhaps to go back to their families for a while; perhaps move elsewhere to follow their career; that even the three girls, who had developed such a close bond over the past four years, would now, in all probability, be separated by life, work and family; may find themselves living hundreds of kilometres apart, would find themselves meeting less and less as they grew older. How likely was it, Garrie asked, that the seven friends would ever meet, all at the same time? The group looked around at each other, suddenly serious. It felt that this seemingly happy celebration of their individual success was, in fact, not a celebration, but a wake. A wake for their companionship; a wake that signalled their division and severance from each other's company. Very soon Graduation was looming, and that was something that would in all likelihood divide them forever. Thoughts of a final gathering of friends who may never meet again dragged Marna into a cruel train of thought; into unwelcome reminiscence and reopening old wounds. It inspired her to recall her last day as Jonn Hamming, in IL.49 Rec.17 with her four friends. She remembered Amey telling them how to toast Fergul. "This is an old custom," she chirped, suddenly seeming much brighter, although her outwardly buoyant mood was, in fact, an effort both to disguise and suppress her feelings, which were now assailing her on two fronts. She raised her glass and held it at eye level, over the centre of the table. "Centuries ago, good friends used to hold their glasses together and wish each other good luck." One or two heads turned at the sound of so many glasses clinking together, and so many voices all saying, "Good luck, everyone!" but the sharpest of those sitting close by both understood the gesture and recalled Marna's introduction. So impressed were one or two of their fellow students, that The Century Toast became a unique feature of IL Ed.5 graduation parties, and survived for years to come. The happy, excitement now returned. The conversation was rather dampened, having lost its carefree detachment, but now that everyone shared the same melancholy, the mood was much happier. Marna and Jayson slept together that night, and on one more occasion before Graduation. * Graduation day brought both Korine and Annah as visitors; both were delighted to meet Marna's friends and particularly impressed when introduced to Jayson. To her disquiet, Marna often noticed Korine flirting with Jayson; however, the mild possessiveness she was experiencing she found to be less distressing than the fact that she recognised she was feeling jealous of both simultaneously: of Jayson as her boyfriend and of Korine as her former wife. The ceremony was followed by the moment the three girls had been dreading. Saying goodbye to each other. They linked their devs to make sure they would always be able to contact each other, exchanged physical addresses just in case, and exchanged hugs. A lot. Eventually they parted, and exchanged more hugs, and cried. Also a lot. Annah left separately; Marna and Korine returned home, taking Jayson with them. He unpacked his case in Marna's room, but put a few things back into it; his plan was to spend one night here, then travel home for a few days before returning to spend a little longer with Marna. Jayson explained apologetically that he was from a very wealthy family, one of the most powerful in IL. He did not usually talk about his background, because he found it could have a detrimental effect on his personal relationships, attracting all the wrong people, and tending to drive away the people he really liked. John, Korine's boyfriend, was waiting when they arrived and the four hit it off straight away. That evening, once Kiera - who revelled in all the extra attention - was in bed, they had dinner together and relaxed for a while, before both couples had an early night. After breakfast, it was time for Jayson to leave, as he was keen to get to his parents" home by late morning. That way, he explained, he could return to Marna a day earlier than he would otherwise be able to get away with. That night, Marna lay alone in bed, unable to sleep, her mind racing. One thing in particular she found comforting, which was that she was lying there in the knowledge that, in the next room, a man was very probably making love to her former wife, but she, to her great satisfaction, no longer envied him. When Jayson returned, Marna was delighted. Dinner that evening was over very quickly, and shortly afterwards, the two had turned in, leaving Korine and John to themselves. As the days passed, John began to stay overnight less and less frequently, and he and Korine had returned to roughly the same pattern as before. Jayson stayed every night, and slept with Marna every night. One day, Marna was sitting on the sofa with Kiera on her knee, exchanging nonsense words with each other. Every time Marna said something absurd, Kiera giggled and told her she was being silly. Every time Kiera did the same, Marna was supposed to be surprised and say it must be a new word she had never heard before. Then Kiera would laugh, and tell her she was being silly. Marna looked up when Jayson entered the room, and her high spirits evaporated immediately at the sight of his face. He was white, and looked drawn, as if he had suddenly received bad news. "Jayson?" she said, almost afraid to ask what was upsetting him. "It's a message from my mother." "How is she? What does she say?" Jayson hesitated. Marna stared at him. "She usually speaks to you," she said, then, after thinking for a moment, added, "Jayson, what''s wrong?" She watched him as he approached and sat beside her. She leant over to read his holoscreen, her shoulder resting against his. Kiera, already bored with the change of mood, wriggled free from the arm holding her, slid from Marna's knee to the floor and ran off. Marna bit her lip as she read. "Oh. That hurts." "I''m sorry. I shouldn''t have let you read it." "Don''t be. It''s best I did. I'm just grateful the man I love has been saved from having to tell me. Or lie to me." "Is it true, what she says?" Marna remained silent, not knowing how to reply, nor whether she would be able to speak even if she could find words. "They can't do this to us. Come with me. I'm going to fight for you." "I can't. There's no way they'd accept me. You saw what she wrote." "Then I'm not going." "You have to. You need to think about your family. About yourself." "I am thinking about myself." "You've no choice." "But we'd never be able to see each other again!" Marna and Jayson talked for over an hour without managing to reconcile things. It was only over dinner that Korine, who was older and wiser than Jayson, and acknowledged to be so by him (since he had not yet shaken off the belief that Marna's mind was the same age as her body), finally convinced him that Marna was right, and he should return to his family in accordance with his parents" wishes. In time, she convincingly argued, as his status within his family grew, his parents" influence over him would diminish, and their prejudice against Marna, as a reanimated person who had experienced a total return, and who was therefore a criminal mind, would carry less and less weight. That evening, Jayson replied to his mother's message, saying that he would comply with her wishes, and would return tomorrow. He and Marna had one night left together. Their lovemaking was passionate with an obsessive edge to it. Marna was intense and needy. She cried at times, both during and after sex, and when she was curled up against him, she cried herself to sleep in his arms for the last time. The following morning, Marna could not possibly have felt any worse. Jayson and Korine both sensed this, and arranged as quick a departure as possible. A large, expensive aut appeared outside the ap, and Jayson held Marna in his arms, both agreeing to meet in the future, and both knowing how unlikely it was that they would ever see each other again. With that, Jayson walked out of Marna's life. "That's us both single, then," Korine said when Marna drifted absent- mindedly into the living room. "How do you mean?" Korine only looked sadly at her. Marna sat on the sofa beside her, and they took each other in their arms. * Three days later, Korine found Marna sitting on the sofa, staring into space while Kiera played with one of her toys on the floor. Unusually, there was no interaction between the two: Marna doted on Kiera, who in return thought Marna was wonderful and, when the two were together, would never leave her alone. Marna must have been ignoring Kiera for some considerable time for the child to have given up. "Are you all right?" Korine asked as she lifted her daughter. "Fine," was the only response. Korine carried Kiera towards the door but, on glancing over her shoulder without realising why she had done so, saw that Marna had flipped up her holoscreen and was examining something carefully. From the red square in the bottom corner, it looked as if she were making a purchase. Korine turned and quietly retraced her steps until she was close enough to the sofa to be able to read the holoscreen over the girl's shoulder. "Oh," she exclaimed, making Marna jump, "Usually when a single woman orders one of those, it's almost certain to be positive." Marna nodded. "I should have had my period the day after Jayson left." 8. The Pilgrim's Regress Marna returned to her holoscreen, stared at it for a moment, then presented her thumb to the red square. A message in green text read, "Confirmed." Korine left with Kiera and Marna returned to her occupation of staring into space. Very shortly a delivery arrived and was accepted at the door by Korine. "Marna!" she called. "It's here." She handed the box to Marna, who took it into the bathroom to open. She was gone for some while and eventually Korine tapped on the outside of the door. "Are you all right?" she asked, concerned at Marna's extended absence and beginning to worry. "Are you still in there?" "No and yes," came the reply. From the muted tone of voice, it was obvious the owner had been, and very probably still was, crying. "Let me in. Please." There was a long hesitation before the bathroom door unlocked. Korine pushed it open to reveal Marna sitting on the floor, her back to the wall. She had used her dev to release the lock, and as Korine entered, the holoscreen disappeared. Korine sat beside her. "Talk to me." Marna began to cry and Korine put her arm around the girl's shoulders. "Just tell me." Marna drew a deep, shuddering breath and opened her dev again. Korine only had to glance briefly at it to confirm what she had known in her heart all along. The test had been positive. Marna was pregnant. * Korine coaxed her out of the bathroom and downstairs to the living room. Marna sat on the sofa and curled up. Korine offered to make her a cup of tea. Marna asked for coffee. Korine scuttled off to the kitchen and put on the Coffea machine, brewing two drinks: one tea and one coffee, but with the caffeine turned way down on the coffee. When she returned carrying the two large cups, Marna was still curled up on the sofa, but with her holoscreen in front of her. She was scrolling carefully through some text, and there was a red payment zone in the bottom corner. When Korine entered, she must have made some kind of noise, because Marna's head seemed to turn a fraction in realisation before she hurriedly completed whatever she was doing. Her holoscreen disappeared with a green flash. Korine laid both cups down and sat close to Marna. They looked at each other. "What were you ordering?" she said softly." Marna did not reply, but continued to stare at her with the most curious look in her eyes, full of contradicting emotion. She looked determined, regretful and uncertain all at the same time. "Can I guess?" Marna shifted uncomfortably and tried to gather herself into a tighter ball. "You don't have to do this. Really, you don't." "What else can I do? What choice do I have?" "Just please think first. I beg you not to do this straight away. You have more than a hundred days to make up your mind. If you decide to terminate later, that will be your decision, but make sure it''s a carefully-considered one. Because if you terminate now and regret it later, you may never forgive yourself.'" "But what if I wait and wait, and then change my mind? I don't want to change my mind." "If you decide you want to have the baby, that's what you will do." "But this is Jayson's too. What happens if he finds out I'm having his baby? He'll feel it's his duty to come back to me and be a father, and he'll have to defy his parents to do that. So then he gets faced with a choice between abandoning his own child, or abandoning his family! What sort of a choice is that? This could ruin his life, and I don't want to do that to him." Korine thought for a while before she answered. "Inside you, where only you can feel it, there is something that has been created by love. In your womb, you're cradling a tiny, defenceless little thing, just a spark of life, and it's desperately clinging to you, because you are everything in the world to it. It's holding on for dear life, and it wants nothing more than to live, to become a part of you, to love you, and be loved in return. All it asks is for you to give life to it, give birth to it, then let it reward you by giving you all the love it has to give." Marna stared back at Korine compassionately, moved almost to tears by her words. Then, slowly, she began to shake her head in rebellion. "But that's not fair on you," she argued, "Kiera belongs to both of us, but this baby will only be mine." "This is going to be very, very hard for me to say, and I think it's going to be even harder for you to hear. You are not Kiera's father. Kiera's father was a man. You aren't. Your body has never produced a single sperm, nor will it ever do so. You don't have any ... any ..." she faltered as she was struck by the unintentional pun of her words thus far, "You don't have any ... genetic ... relationship ... to Kiera. You could no more have got me pregnant than I could be the father of your baby. It doesn't matter how vividly you might remember John making love to me, how wonderful it felt for him, or how strong are the lingering feelings of his joy when he learned I was pregnant by him. That's not something of which you are physically capable. If you are going to have a baby, this," she pointed at Marna's lower abdomen, "Is the only way you can do it." Marna's face was buried in her hands. Alana could see the slight movements and quiet sounds of her sobbing, but Marna nodded through her tears without raising her head or exposing her face. "Kiera is my blood relation and not yours; your baby will be your blood relation and not mine. That will make us, strangely enough, a balanced family. We can live together as flat-mates, house-mates, baby-sit for each other, clear out of the way for each other if one of us brings a man home. Of course, you'll have to wait until you get out of jail first. "We can live a happy, celibate life together as close friends; even closer than sisters could ever be. Because no matter what might have happened to us, there is still a tiny something, however intangible and impossible it might be, that can never be taken away from us. "I still love you, you know, even if I don't find you sexually attractive any more. I can still see the person I fell in love with, trapped behind that beautiful face. I can still see and hear the devilish humour, even though it's expressed by a much lovelier mouth and a higher voice. I can still see the flash of wit, except now it twinkles in deep brown, almond-shapes eyes and with the arch of a much finer eyebrow. I can still see the same gestures and hand movements, only now they are tempered with feminine grace, slender arms and smaller hands." Korine sat on the sofa and placed her arm around Marna's shoulders. "If ever you feel in the need of comfort, I will be there. If you feel frightened in the middle of the night, my bed is there for you ... as long as you make sure I'm alone first. No matter what, I'll welcome you with open arms and will gladly hold you until the morning. "Just as long as you're not expecting any action. You have nothing that I'd be interested in." "And the real tragedy is, likewise," came the tearful reply. By the time Korine had finished speaking, Marna was sobbing, but not bitterly. Not many moments later, she reopened her dev and then tapped a few times at the holoscreen, which turned amber. She put her thumb to the square in the corner and the screen disappeared. Marna then curled up again, hugging her knees. Korine leant over and kissed her on the forehead. "I suppose I'd better make the most of being able to do this," Marna said, a distant look in her eyes. "While I'm still bendy enough." "That's the spirit," Korine replied. "After all, you'll have me to pick things up for you." Marna decided not to tell Jayson about the baby, since his parents" position was quite clear where she was concerned. Her biggest fear was that she might have misjudged them; she was carrying their grandchild, after all, and even if they did not relent, perhaps Jayson should have the right to choose between parent and child. Several times, she was on the point of opening a dev call to Jayson, but never did. Eventually, after long discussions with Korine, she resolved not to tell him. Korine pointed out that, since Jayson had never made the effort to contact her, even secretly, that he had decided to honour his parents" wishes and cut all ties with her; therefore to bring him the news of Marna's pregnancy would probably be unwelcome. It would certainly be unwelcome news to his family, and may well be to Jayson's detriment in the long term. The days passed; Marna began her new job with a legal firm, although not in anything like the high-flying position she had enjoyed as Jonn. Maternity leave was arranged even before she had started. Korine began to help her, firstly by carrying heavy objects, then by picking things up for her as required, just as she had earlier promised, and as the extent of Marna's downward reach gradually rose further and further above ankle height. Finally, as spring was advancing towards summer, Marna felt the first of her contractions. The preparations began. The following afternoon, Korine was accompanying her to Hosp.2, and Marna found herself on her back, in a room whose door was laballed, Hosp.2 Lab.5. Marna groggily looked around her, and, though partially sedated, was alert enough to react with surprise. "What are you doing here?" "I wanted to be present at the birth." "I didn't think they'd let you in." "Ssh!" Korine whispered. "I told them we're a lesbian couple. They said it was okay." "Okay to be here, or okay to be lesbians?" Korine laughed. "That's the spirit! You'll be fine." "I'm glad you're here." "You should have someone with you." "You didn't. I should have been there for you. I wasn't. Sorry." Marna looked as if she were about to cry; Korine stroked her forehead. "Don't," she said, "Everything's all right now. Anyway, no crying! There'll be enough of that in a few point-ohs! First the baby, then you when you hold it for the first time, then me when I see you holding it for the first time ... we're both doomed!" Marna laughed. "That's the spirit!" Almost without warning, Marna was overwhelmed by an enormous contraction and found herself in labour. The staff sprang into action and after a brief whirlwind of pain, flourishing activity and more pain, Marna found herself with a beautiful baby girl in her arms and tears of joy running down both her and Korine's faces. "Hello, you," Marna cooed, Korine leaning into her with their heads together, admiring the baby. After her arms began to ache, but long before she was ready to let go, Marna passed the baby to Korine to hold. She lay back on her pillow, relaxed, elated, exhausted, and smiled as she watched her former wife cradling the sleeping child. "Have you thought of a name yet?" Korine asked without taking her eyes off the baby for an instant. "Yes, I have. Jaq." "Jack? J-A-C-K?" "No," Marna giggled, "J-A-Q. It comes from an old name, Jacqueline." "That's a beautiful name. You should call her Jacqueline and shorten it to Jaq." "Maybe I'll do that. Korine?" "What?'" "I'm glad I had a girl," she murmured, smiling wistfully. "Why's that?" "Because I'll be able to love her without envying her," came the reply. * Korine visited early the next day, and was there when Marna was given the good news that she could go home the following morning. When she left, she took with her a few of Marna's things, and also instructions on what clothes to bring tomorrow. Marna was waiting, ready to dress when she returned with a surprise that made the younger woman's face light up with delight. Annah. "Mom!" Marna exclaimed and jumped out of bed, wincing at the sudden movement. She hobbled slightly towards her mother, reminiscent of her attempt to run to her in the reanimation room. She could easily have walked towards her mother unassisted, but was not given the chance to prove it. Annah leapt towards her and held her as if mother and daughter had not seen each other for a lifetime. "Can I hold her?" Marna lifted Jaq from her cot and presented to her to Annah, who received her with the same heartfelt joy as had Marna when she had held Jaq in her arms for the first time. "She's beautiful." Annah monopolised her granddaughter while Korine helped Marna dress and get herself ready to leave. She was understandably reluctant to give her up even to see her laid carefully into her transport seat. She sat in the rear seat of the aut, with Jaq beside her, insisting that Marna would have many, many more opportunities to sit in the rear seats with the baby, so Annah should surely not be deprived of such a rare pleasure when it presented itself? Annah stayed for a few hours, holding Jaq, helping, holding Jaq, shuffling clothes, holding Jaq, getting in the way, holding Jaq. Finally, reluctantly, she left for home, promising to be back in two days time. When, two days later, as early in the morning as could possibly be considered sociable, the security system identified her to Korine, she brought a surprise with her. "Oh." "Who is it?" Marna asked, intrigued, but Korine had already jumped to her feet and was half way out of the room. Marna rose more slowly, puzzled at such a strange reaction. By the time she had begun to follow, Korine had reappeared at the living room door, followed by Annah. Marna smiled happily, then her smile faded into a look of anxiety. A third person was following them. Grad. Korine and Annah stepped aside. Grad and Marna seemed to move towards each other in slow motion, both hesitant, both perhaps afraid to be pushed away. Neither need have worried. They finally launched into a competition to see who could squeeze the most air out of the other. Finally they relaxed their hold enough to be able to lean back and make eye contact. "Dad," Marna whispered. Grad pulled her to him again. "I'm so sorry, darling," he said into her hair, "I waited far too long. Wasted too much time. Never again." "You've no idea how good that makes me feel." "Yeah, I do." Marna took his hand and pulled him into the room. "Come on," she said, "This'll make it even better." Grad gasped as Marna placed Jaq in his arms. "Hello, you," he said, cradling his granddaughter, swinging her gently from side to side. Then he looked up at Marna. "She's perfect," he said. Once he had finally (and reluctantly) returned Jaq to her mother, he sat at the end of the sofa, with Marna in the middle between him and Annah. Korine sat in an armchair. Grad had had a whole speech planned out in his head, intending to explain his feelings and beg his daughter to forgive him, but when it came to the crunch, he decided that the simplest, most honest explanation would be best. "I couldn't cope with what happened, and I went completely off the rails. I'm sorry." Marna gave him an understanding smile and hesitated for a moment before she replied. "Korine gave me some brilliant advice. She said I should think of myself as someone who's been reincarnated, but who can remember a past life. That's what I've been trying to do, and it makes me feel much better. You see, that way I can still be your daughter, but I can also remember ... well, before." Grad nodded uncertainly, but did not look as if he wanted to reject his daughter's words out of hand. "And it gets rid of the conflict I used to feel. I can be happy as me. Marna Vicker, your daughter.'" "Then I'm happy too." Grad held out his hand, and Marna took it. * It was several days later that Marna returned to the ap, after taking Kiera and Jaq for a walk; Jaq in her pram and Kiera toddling at her side with one hand in Marna's and the other stretched upwards to the handle, pretending she was in charge of pushing the baby, to find a surprise waiting for her. She identified at the door, let Kiera run inside in excitement to tell her mother how she had taken Jaq for a walk like a grown-up girl, and was just lifting the baby when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Kiera slow down in uncertainty at the living room door, her cries of elation suddenly silenced. Marna followed her, and she also stopped in surprise when she saw two women, one seated in the armchair and the other on the sofa. When she saw Marna enter, Korine immediately rose from the armchair and looked at her uncertainly. "Hi, Marna," she began, "I'd better introduce you. Marna, this is ..." "Amey," Marna interrupted, shocked to see one of her old friends, "I ... I ..." Korine took Jaq from her. Marna and Amey hugged tentatively. When they broke off, there was a curious expression on Amey's face, as if she were unable to believe her eyes. She began to chatter nervously, while Marna listened without reply. "Wow. You look ... lovely. "Sorry. It seems a bit surreal for me to be saying that to you. "Used to be your job to say that to me." "You look lovely, too," Marna said chivalrously and, with a wicked smile, took Amey's hand and kissed it in gentlemanly fashion. Amey let out an embarrassed laugh and sat down, looking perplexed. "So ..." Marna began, and with Amey taking that as a prompt, both women said simultaneously, "How are you?" then exchanged an awkward smile. "I'll go first," Marna then offered, "Because you can more or less see how I am. I'm Marna Vicker, age twenty-two point eight, female, recent graduate, junior corporate lawyer. "Not a fraud developer, then." "No. Definitely not a fraud developer. And you?" Amey was staring sympathetically at Marna and hesitated for a moment before replying. "Amey Harson, age," she coughed as she spoke, making the next few syllables inaudible, and making both Marna and Korine smile, "Female, family lawyer." "Not a fraud developer, then." "No, not a fraud developer. Not since I lost my job at Jopal and Jopal." "Oh, God. That was my fault. Amey, I am so sorry. I ruined everyone's life that day." "Don't be. We all more or less survived. I don't shop in Rue.1 much these days, but apart from that, I'm fine. So are the other three." Marna, however, did not seemed to take much notice of Amey's kind words. Her eyes were downcast and she looked to be on the verge of tears. Korine decided to lighten the mood by making her own introduction, but only got herself into even greater trouble. "Korine Hammond. I'm ...," she stopped, realising she had been on the point of describing herself as Jonn's wife, or perhaps, even worse, his widow. She took a deep breath and tried again, "And the noisy little whirlwind you see running around, is Kiera, our ...my daughter, em ..." Amey looked from Korine to Marna with the deepest sympathy. She looked both heartbroken and uncomfortable, as if she now wished she had never visited. "I know that technically you're Marna, not Jonn," she explained, tentatively to begin with and gathering pace as she progressed, "But I was worried about you. What they did to you was awful. As time went on I felt worse and worse, and finally I just had to try and track you down to find out what happened to you. I've screwed everything up doing this, haven't I? God, I'm so sorry. All I've done is upset you. That's the last thing you need." "Why don't we start again?" Korine said gently, "We need some coffee, then we can talk at our leisure." "I'll do it," Marna said, "You know that ancient saying, "A woman's work is never done?"" Amey started back at her in amazement. "You're not supposed to say things like that any more," she replied, slowly, "But I totally get the irony." When Marna returned from the kitchen carrying a tray, Amey and Korine were deep in discussion, and broke off when they saw her enter. "Don't stop on my account," she said, "I was able to hear every word from the through there." "God, I'm sorry!" Amey exclaimed, looking stricken. "I didn't mean you to hear us talking about you being ... being ..." "I was there, remember? And I wasn't the girl who was hit by the aut. I felt the same horror as you, watching her thrown into the air; worse, perhaps, because it was my fault. I was sitting just in front of you, looking on helplessly, exactly as you were. Except maybe not quite so exactly the same as you. We weren't the same sex then." Amey then related what had happened that day; it was something Korine had never quizzed Marna about, assuming correctly that it would be as painful a subject for her former husband as it would have been for herself. Although, over time, the scars had ceased to bleed so badly, neither woman had yet worked up the courage to risk hurting her friend by bringing the subject up. Amey's intervention now set that to rights. Marna listened politely and without interrupting, knowing as she did the whole story, but only up to the accident and the arrival of the Audit Force. She now heard ,for the first time, how her four friends had fared. She listened with her head in her hands. Tears running from her wrists to her elbows. All four had lost their jobs at Jopal and Jopal, and in addition, Fergul had lost the job he had been due to start a few days later. He was currently unemployed, having begun no fewer than five different jobs over the past six years, but failed to hold any of them down. Matt and Jiana were both highly underpaid junior lawyers for a Gov unit in different conurbations, and Amey herself, they already knew about. She had probably done best (or, more accurately, least badly) of all. With the exception of Jonn, of course, who was newly qualified, embarking on a promising career, and a mere twenty-two years old. "But female," Marna observed. Amey now looked steadily at Korine. The previous thread of the conversation had reached a natural conclusion, and she now found there was something else she wished to say. "Korine, I hope you don't mind, but what happened to you? It must have been unbearable." Korine laughed without smiling. "You're right, it was. Unbearable doesn't even begin to describe what it was like. The world came to and end and there was nothing left but a void. I loved Jonn more than anything ... except nowadays, perhaps Kiera ..." Marna smiled in agreement at her afterthought. "If I hadn't been pregnant, who knows what I might have done?" Amey and Marna stared at her, both looking frightened. "It was impossible to go on, but I just had to. For my baby. So I did." Korine smiled bravely at the other two women when she spoke, and they seemed to relax a little, although their dismay remained. "Perhaps we can change the subject? Talk about something a little lighter?" Amey obediently brought the conversation round to the subject of the weather, followed by traffic, then dev shopping, and the mood began to lift. Before long, Korine and Amey were chatting happily, as if they had been friends for years. Marna, on the other hand, sat silently for the majority of the time, talking only when spoken to, and mostly drifting off into her own thoughts. That evening, Marna and Korine slept in their own rooms; not because of any tension between them, but because Marna was deep in thought and would rather be alone. During her pregnancy, it had become more and more common for her to wander into Korine's room and slip into bed beside her, but after Jaq's birth, she had a cot beside her bed, so in any case, sleeping together required forward planning. She lay awake for a long time, thinking about Amey and Korine, and how selfish she had been for so many years. Earlier that evening, when her former wife spoke of her own suffering, it made Marna see her in a completely new light, and only at that point did she realise that every time she and Korine has discussed her reanimation and total return, the emphasis had almost always been on Marna's trauma at finding herself in a female body, and very, very rarely - far too rarely, in fact - had Korine been given the opportunity to talk about her own trauma in losing her husband, then, cruelly, having him returned to her in a form that only continued and extended that loss. While the barrier between them had been the subject of many a conversation, they had usually focused upon the frustration of being a woman, and not upon the sorrow of being her widow. As she stared at the ceiling through the near-dark, the first roots of an idea began to take hold. * Over the next few days, it was common for Korine to find Marna sitting on the sofa studying her holoscreen, only to close it as soon as she became aware she had company. Korine did not ask what she was doing; it seemed she was only reading. Some research for work, she assumed. The mysterious devbrowsing stopped as abruptly as it began. Korine would have forgotten about it, but for the subtle, unexplainable change in Marna's behaviour; normally she would leave for, and arrive home from, work as regularly as clockwork, but no longer. Her punctuality became more and more irregular, until it was more normal for her to leave late in the morning, arrive home early, or both. Before many more days had passed, Korine found out why. "I need to tell you something," Marna said one evening, while the two women were relaxing after dinner. Korine looked up, believing correctly that she was about to get an answer to a question that had been on her mind for several days. She smiled encouragingly, but said nothing, thinking it best to wait for Marna to continue. "I've been seeing a doctor. A specialist." "Is there something wrong?" Korine sounded beside herself with worry. "Depends what you mean by, 'Wrong.' I'm not ill, if that's what you mean." "Then what?" "I'm looking for a cure for something far worse. I've been attending a gender reassignment clinic." Korine could only stare open-mouthed. Her heart was thumping and she felt as if her stomach had turned itself inside out. Finally, ashen- faced, she managed to stammer a reply. "No, don't do this, please!" "I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon." "Oh, Marna, don't. Just cancel it, I beg you." "If you want to have any say in the matter, come with me." * Korine accompanied Marna to the clinic the following day, and arrived to find the process at a far more advanced stage than she had expected. Most of the consultations had been successfully completed by this time, and Marna was within a hairsbreadth of being approved. All that remained, in fact, was one final, exhaustive psychological assessment, followed by a conclusive meeting with the gender reassignment specialist, where the decision on Marna's future would be taken. Having been identified as a potential post-reassignment partner, Korine was invited to undergo a similar psychological assessment, which she accepted. Marna and Korine were interviewed separately, at the same time, by senior psychologists who specialised in the area. They were subjected to rigorous questioning, including word association and picture association tests, being asked to describe their feelings about various pathological scenarios posed by the psychologists, and to formulate their preferred solutions to seemingly insurmountable problems. Several hours later, after two gruelling sessions, including lunch in isolation from each other, they were shown into a plush office, where a well-dressed, slightly-built man was perched behind a desk, poring over the papers spread out before him. He looked up and smiled politely as they entered, admiring both without much of an effort to disguise it, but paying more attention to the older woman than to the younger. "Good afternoon," he said, shaking Marna's hand, "Ms. Vicker." He then turned and offered his hand to Korine. "I'm Dr. Zall. You must be Korine Hammond." He read her name from the top of one of the thicker reports on his desk. Korine smiled and replied that she was pleased to meet him too. Dr. Zall retreated behind his desk, first waiting politely for his patients to seat themselves in the two comfortable armchairs facing him. They looked at each other, remaining silent for a long moment. Neither Korine nor Dr. Zall looked particularly happy. Marna sat impassively. Presently Dr. Zall opened. "Ms. Vicker, as you know, all of the technical consultations, and your physical examinations, were good, and yielded satisfactory results. All that remained was you psychological assessment and, optionally, that of a possible future partner, which I am pleased to say, she was willing to undergo." He stopped speaking and looked down at one of the papers which he had lifted from the desk, scrutinising it with apparent uneasiness. "I have your reports before me," he continued, slowly and thoughtfully, "And I have to tell you that yours in particular, Ms. Vicker, gives me cause for serious concern." "Are you telling me you're unwilling to proceed?" "This course of treatment is voluntary, and private, therefore the decision on whether or not to proceed is yours and yours alone. I can only advise you, and I will act on your instructions." "Then we go ahead." Korine looked pleadingly at Marna. Dr. Zall briefly glanced at her, then returned to his patient and continued. "Before you make a final decision, please allow me to explain." "I've already made my final decision." "Please, before we go any further, I insist on making you aware of some extremely important facts." "Very well, but you won't change my mind." "In this field, we have limited case histories to provide us with insight into the long-term effects of our work. However, we do have the results of many experimental studies to guide us. These studies were conducted over several years, before they were shut down on the grounds that they were considered to be unethical. However, although the collection of further data has now been made impossible, the data we have is both extensive and insightful, because the tests were carried out to the highest standards. "The test subjects were carefully selected to cover a broad range of patterns of sexuality, but the chief focus was on six main categories: heterosexuals, homosexuals and transsexuals, all both male and female. "The subjects were paid - usually large sums of money - firstly to undergo gender reassignment procedures, then to take part in periodic studies and assessments for several years afterwards. The objective was to determine the effect reassignment had on each individual, both physically and psychologically, and on their partners, whether it be their original partner before reassignment, or a new partner whose selection was based on the subject's new gender. "As you would expect, there were many variations and inconsistencies in the way the subjects and their partners reacted, but to the amazement of everyone who has studied these cases, there were four groups who behaved consistently, with zero percent deviation in all cases. "Normally, a statistician would expect a few percent tolerance in empirical studies, but these four groups exhibited perfect uniformity. Almost unbelievably so." "Almost?" Marna tried her best to sound indifferent, but was unable to disguise her concern. "Almost. If you think about it, you can perhaps see why it would happen. We can change your body. In your case, we can give you a perfectly functional male body; one that would make it impossible for anyone to tell that you were not born male. "Except, unfortunately, for one person, or perhaps one or two people." "Who?" "Any woman who tried to have your child." "Physiologically, everything about gender-reassigned anatomy seems, on the surface, to be perfect. A reassigned woman has ovaries that produce eggs, ovulates once every twenty-eight days, and experiences a normal, healthy, menstrual cycle. A reassigned man has a normal prostate gland, normal testes, is capable of a normal male erection, and therefore might be capable of discharging semen, and of course sperms, into his partner's vagina." "Might?" "Yes. That is the crux of the problem, you see, and with your permission, I'll return to it in a few moments." Korine and Marna glanced at each other, both looking puzzled and disconcerted. "Firstly, a gender-reassigned person, regretfully, is not fertile. A reassigned woman produces, as I said earlier, eggs that appear to be normal, and pass every fertility test we can perform on them. However, irrespective of any assisted fertility techniques that we try, such eggs cannot be fertilised, even by the most perfect, natural, sperm we can obtain, and even under the strictest laboratory conditions. The egg will be penetrated by a sperm, but nothing will happen; it will pass through the uterus and be discharged along with menstrual blood as normal. It is impossible, seemingly, for a reassigned woman to conceive. "Similarly, a reassigned man can produce sperm that seems to be perfect in every way. It will have normal, usually very good, motility, and will penetrate a woman's ovum exactly as you would expect. However, it will fail to fertilise the egg. The woman's menstrual cycle will continue uninterrupted and the egg will, again, pass through the uterus and be discharged. "I can tell you with one hundred percent confidence that gender- reassigned people cannot have children. We don't know why not, and we don't have the technology - yet - to determine why not. "So, the bottom line is that we would be able to give you a physically perfect male body. Unfortunately, that would be all we would be able to do, and it would be impossible to make you fertile. You would be no more able to father a child than you are now, as a woman. "If you underwent gender reassignment, you would lose your fertility on the first transition, and you would never get it back, either as a male or as a female." The two women sat in morose silence for a few moments before Marna spoke. "There's more, isn't there? Earlier on, you said, 'Might,' as in, I might be able to ... to ..." "Yes, I'm afraid there is. You see, fertility is not the only problem with gender reassignment. There is something even worse. We can only change your body." "I don't understand." "Nor me." "We can give you a physically perfect body, but we can't change your emotions. Nor can we, and this is the greatest problem of all, change your sexual orientation." "But surely, if I were a man ..." Marna faltered as she saw Dr. Z shaking his head decisively. "Only your body would change. This is an irrefutable fact, based as it is on the hard evidence from the studies I described earlier. I said there were four groups who produced an unexpectedly uniform result; those four groups were heterosexual and transsexual males and females. "The two heterosexual groups did not adjust mentally to their reassignment. Every single one of the test subjects became gender dysphoric, and exhibited a strong desire to be returned to their original sex. The two transsexual groups, on the other hand, were exactly the opposite. They were delighted with their reassignment, even though they had lost their fertility. That, of course, is understandable, because their original role in procreation was something they had never wished to possess. "You, Ms. Vicker, are a normal heterosexual female. That shows up so decisively in your assessment results, that it is impossible to doubt. As do you, Ms. Hamming, although by now it should be clear that that is irrelevant to this discussion. Korine nodded. She, at least, had realised the point of what Dr. Zall was saying. "That puts you squarely in one of those four groups. A group, I'm afraid, that failed to adjust to reassignment and became dysphoric. You would be absolutely miserable in a male body, and your deepest, most heartfelt desire would be to become a woman. "The result would be an unhappy relationship between you. It would be highly likely that you, Ms. Hamming, would find the new Mr. Vicker attractive, but I'm afraid you," he looked sadly at Marna, "would experience no sexual attraction to Ms. Hamming, or to any other woman. The result would be a defective, unbalanced relationship that would almost certainly break down. "This brings us back to the, "Maybe."" Marna looked at Korine with a devastated expression; as if the news they had already been given were not bad enough, there was perhaps worse yet to come. Korine returned a sympathetic half smile. Dr. Zall continued. "A woman's body would not cause you to become sexually excited, resulting in a situation that, in the context of the bedroom, would probably appear to be erectile dysfunction. However, in social settings, the presence of a man may well cause enough excitement to inspire erection, something that would only increase the harmful tension between the two of you. "As far as your own sex life is concerned, Mr. Vicker might be able to achieve an erection by fantasising about being a woman, and if he managed to maintain the fantasy in his mind throughout coitus, may be able to bring himself to orgasm and therefore ejaculation. "However, that would be as fruitless (as I explained earlier) as it would be unsatisfactory for both of you. "My advice is: be content with what you do have. Go home, and be sisters, or lesbians ... whichever you desire." * "I know. Come here." Korine slid under the covers and Marna put her arms around her, pulling her close. Korine lay on her back and Marna put her head on her shoulder. Her arm she slid across Korine's chest, accidentally brushing her hand across her left breast. "Sorry," she said, sliding her arm down and laying it across her waist. "That's okay," Korine replied. "Doesn't matter anyway, does it?" "I suppose not." Marna lifted her hand again and placed it, purposefully this time, back onto Korine's breast. She stroked it sadly. "I'm sorry to say, but I prefer touching my own to touching yours." "That's not all is it?" Korine replied and she felt Marna gently shake her head. "No, it's not. It's even better is when a man touches them." Korine felt a teardrop falling onto her shoulder. She said nothing, but pulled Marna a little bit closer. "I'll always love you, you know," Korine whispered. "And I think you feel the same way about me." "Yes, I do, but this is not the way I wanted things to be. This isn't who I wanted to be, or what I wanted to be, and this isn't the way I wanted to love you." "This is not what I wanted you to be either, but it's just the way things are, and there's nothing we, or anyone else, can do about it." "But now that things are this way, there's part of me telling me this actually is what I want, but there's another part of me telling me that I have no right to be happy with who and what I am." "That's guilt talking. Please, please don't think that way. You''ve been punished enough. It's time we let go of the past and faced the future together." "It's just that ... I keep on having this feeling that I need to do something to try to make you happy. I don't want to be a man any more - I really don't - but I feel as if I should want it, for your sake. "I just can't get it out of my head that it's my duty to be your husband, and love you the way you deserve to be loved, and that by losing the ability to do that, I have let you down and taken your chance of happiness away from you, and that I have no right to find happiness of my own, and that being happy as a woman is somehow betraying you." "The day you decided to keep Jaq," Korine replied steadily, "The two of us made another decision, one we made together. Do you remember?" Marna nodded and Korine continued, speaking gently, almost whispering. "We promised we would always be there for each other, and we would be like sisters. That is all I ask of you." "But what if you want to get married some day?" "Or if you do?" "I don't want that to happen," Marna said, "I'm sorry if I'm being selfish, but now I have you again I don't want to lose you, even if there is an insurmountable barrier between us preventing that very last step to the beautiful intimacy we once shared." "Our relationship has only lost one thing, sex, and that's something a sound, loving relationship can be built without. We're as close to being sisters as it's possible to be without growing in the same womb. Whatever the future brings, even if one - or both - of us wants to marry and leave, that's something that happens - often happens - to girls that live together when they're single. Even if, one day, we end up living in different places with different men, there is nothing in this world that can break our friendship, and no matter what happens, I will love you until the day I die, and that's the end of the matter." "Yes," Marna replied, lifting her head to look up at Korine and smiling tearfully. "Girls that live together. That's the way it's going to have to be, isn't it? Now and for ever." "I, too, will love you until the day I die. The end."