Matrix Code - Nexus of Conspiracy

7.2|Departing

Slow, steady streams of steam rose from the idling engines of the massive Airship into the frigid morning air. Nothing more than a technologically advanced airplane, the Airship was an enormous taxi service to the other Subsidiaries. With the onset of the technological revolution that created AirLanes, Flitters, Airships and countless other modifications to society, the cost of air and inter-subsidiary travel had been drastically reduced.
The loading docks always reminded Lexi of her trip to see Carver when she was young, as they had not really changed much from the airports of the past. The only time she had ever flown on a plane was to leave New York and then return to it a decade later; and now ironically the first time she would have ever flown on an Airship would be to see Carver; to return to the place she’d grown up- to England.
Duffel bag of felines slung over her right shoulder and her hand resting on the side to steady it, Lexi made her way through the thin crowd of early morning travelers to the ticket station. She tried to keep her head down whenever possible and tuck herself as far back in the sweatshirt’s hood as she could, the last thing she needed was an overzealous citizen reporting her to Section 7.
The Airship loading dock was relatively deserted, so her real worry was the man at the ticket counter. She had to present a valid ID in order to book a ticket on the Airship, and if he recognized the name or face from the TeleCast screens she was in trouble, with them already on high alert for her, if S-7 received a phone call with a positive location she guessed the response time would be under five minutes; which was not nearly enough time for her to get clear of the building.
The loading docks- much like airports of the past- were comprised of long hallways leading to branching bays and gates that granted access to their respective Airships. The outer walls were lined with thick glass, allowing a clear and unhindered view on the idling behemoth machines beyond.
Shaped like an enormous pill, the Airship was rectangular on the outer edges and rounded on top and bottom, where the giant electrical gravitation engines were inlayed. Moving fast enough to create a massive amount of outward energy- the gravitation engines worked much like the fans along the underside of a Flitter- pushing against the air on all sides so that a sort of equilibrium was created in the center, allowing the Airship almost one hundred percent mobility in the sky.
Shifting her gaze from the Airships docked outside, Lexi focused on the ticket and service counter that was only a few meters ahead of her. A surly looking gentleman in a blue and white uniform manned the desk, starring absent-mindedly at the TeleCast screen mounted on ceiling brackets hanging opposite him. She halted her stride and backed up nonchalantly to lean on a wall as her eyes flicked about, searching for exit strategies. Behind the ticket counter was the connecting tunnel that led to its respective Airship’s dock, and behind her was an emergency exit a few hundred meters down the corridor. Other than those two doors, Lexi spotted no other way out in the immediate vicinity.
She took a deep breath, affixed her hood tighter to her head, and crossed the short distance and stepped up to the counter. The tennis shoes she wore squelched minutely on the shiny tiles of the hallway, and she cleared her throat and shifted the bag on her shoulder as she approached the man.
“Good morning,” She said as pleasantly as she could, trying not to reveal the stress and anxiety that laced her thoughts.
The gentleman lowered his gaze from the TeleCast screen and grunted a hello as he frowned at her.
“It’s freezing out there today, bloody hell,” She smiled and commented as her hands sifted through the pockets of the sweats, and the moment they came up empty her heart froze and her skin probably went a few shades whiter.
Her ID had been in her leather pants- pants now in possession of Jean Krychek. She had nothing on her but her cats, extra clothes, and a USP tucked in the waistband at the nook of her lower back. Without an ID, he might call security on her, and then she’d be in royal shite- and judging by his dour demeanor- he probably wouldn’t hesitate.
With a single call, she’d be had. If security had a description of her, someone was bound to recognize it- and with that S-7 would be contacted and they’d pounce on her like a jackrabbit before she could ever set foot outside of the building; it was simply too large to traverse quickly. Even by some chance of fate no one realized who she was, if they searched her to determine why she’d come with no ID and a large duffel bag- they’d find the USP, which she couldn’t now very well toss in the trash as she’d already approached the desk: If she backed away and left the man would be suspicious.
She’d walked herself straight into a bloody deathtrap.
Thinking quickly, she used the situation to her advantage and let wells of tears form in her eyes as she looked up from her sweat pants and fixed her gaze squarely in his eyes.
The man’s expression seemed to soften briefly, but his frowned returned quickly, and he asked gruffly, “What’s the problem?”
Her eyes read his name tag before she looked him again in the eye, and Lexi said, “Mr. Conner, I-“ Her voice wavering as much as possible, she continued, “I don’t have my ID on me. My God, I can’t believe I forgot it-please sir, please you must let me on that Airship, please,”
She adjusted the duffel bag and tried to wipe away the tears with the back of her hand as she continued.
“My parents, they’ve...they’re deathly ill, and I have to see them, the doctors said they don’t have much time and I left as quick as I could but they’re so ill that if I don’t get there soon they might be gone before I get there...I just...” She rambled on, literally making it up as she went, trying to scrounge up something convincing to say. As she did so, however, something unexpected happened.
The feelings, the thoughts; the pure horror that she had felt when she discovered that her parents had died all those years ago came back to her in a wave. The emotion of pure loss had been so substantial, so significant that when Carver Dwennon had gently hung up the phone and had turned to her and said, as softly as he could manage, Scottish accent rolling with each syllable: “Alexia...you’re parents...I’m sorry. They’ve passed away,” It was if she’d been hit with a brick. Everything she’d wanted to say to them but never had the chance jumped to her mind, all the unfulfilled opportunities played themselves out in slow motion; the dances with her father she’d never have; the late night conversations with her mother that would never be realized; the tears her parents could never sooth, the sadness they could never relieve. She would never again feel her father’s sweet caress as he held her, never again would her mother lay smothered in blankets with her and watch movies on a Sunday afternoon; and never again could she say the one thing she’d never said to them enough. I love you.
All of this came back to her like she was reliving it all over again- and she realized that her subconscious was giving her the chance to act out now what fate hadn’t allowed her then- to see them one last time before they died.
She looked up, this time the tears and sadness in her eyes were genuine, and so choked up that she was hardly able to speak, she said softly and simply,
“I have to see them.”
She’d forgotten, just for a moment, about her predicament. She let all the anxiety, the fear, the thoughts that the man might recognize her, she let it all go and gently lowered her hood. Just for a moment Lexi was seventeen again, and this time she would say ‘I love you’ before they died.
Lexi’s slightly damp hair arced out around her ears and her bangs fell gently along the soft curves of her eyebrows in thick rows of silky blackness as she blinked her beautiful, pained green eyes. Tears slipped down her cheeks in small rivulets before mounting the cusp of her lips and dripping down onto her sweater, sprinkling the material with dark circles.
“Please,” her voice cracked, “I have to see them.”
Mr. Connor cleared his throat, and his eyes flicked around the corridors, as if checking to see if they were being observed. They weren’t, and he looked at her again, this time closing his eyes and sighing.
“Alright,” He said, clearly acknowledging the dereliction of duty with reluctant acceptance.
She was so surprised, she couldn’t speak for a moment, and her eyes widened. Finally she asked, hardly above a whisper, “...What?”
“I said alright.”
The man opened his eyes and said, not without a trace of his own sorrow, “I lost my parents a long time ago... I was too busy with business school to see them.”
Lexi immediately felt horrible, as if she’d somehow intentionally toyed with his emotions to her advantage.
“I’ve always regretted my ignorance. Any other time I’d call security in a heartbeat...but you seem genuine, and I refuse to be responsible for giving you that same guilt. Missing your parents because you forgot an ID is a cruel twist of fate, if you ask me.”
Mr. Connor tapped a few times on the touch screen attached to the desk, and a light blue piece of plastic slid out of a slot on the side of a larger machine beside it.
“European Subsidiary, right?”
Lexi simply nodded, shocked into silence. She was truly a horrible person.
“I could tell by your accent,” he smiled warmly, obviously trying to cheer her up, “Always been a fan- exceptionally beautiful on a woman.”
She tried to swallow and say thank you, but instead only managed to sniffle and nod her thanks as she took the card from his outstretched hand. Her head down, Lexi glided past him onto the loading ramp as he said good luck- but she merely nodded and adjusted her cats.

On the Airship, she lounged back in the deep cushioned seat and gazed silently out at the glistening ocean as they soared over it, the sun crisply defining the horizon, lost in nostalgia.
“I love you.”

7.3|carver

The Airship’s total flight time only a short forty five minute jaunt, Lexi thought she’d might as well make the most of it and decided to take the opportunity to change her clothes. She shifted her gaze from the crystalline ocean cycling by outside the window and turned her attention to the black duffel in the seat beside her.
Lexi had left the bag halfway open for her cats, all of whom were now contentedly fast asleep, and she silently pulled the zipper back the rest of the way, unveiling the scene inside.
The three cats had all bundled together in a big curling heap of soft fur, clenched eyes, and purring muzzles- dead center atop of the pile of clothes she was trying to get to, as cats were prone to do. Lexi softly nudged the trio to the side and they reluctantly awoke and conceded to her unwelcome and inconvenient demand, shifting themselves to the rear of the bag before plopping down into sleep once again.
She smiled at the cats’ slumberous innocence as she rooted through the clothes selection the boy Martin had tossed in. “Thanks, girls,” She whispered.
There were three pairs of slim knickers, one black and the other two dark blue; only a single black bra; a pair of dark blue jeans and the matching high-cut jacket; and a single black sleeveless shirt. Lexi smirked at the selection. There were plenty of better and certainly more functional wardrobe items, but leave it to a man to pick a dame’s outfit.
She scooped the garbs into her arms, leaving the extra underpants, and struggled to fling the trailing jean legs onto the top of the pile as she carefully maneuvered her way to the center aisle. Content her cats were still asleep and wouldn’t be causing mischief in her absence, Lexi sauntered down the aisle to the restrooms near the bar and lounge area at the center of the craft, doing her best to make it seem as though changing clothes mid-flight was a perfectly natural thing to do.
Passing by the couches, chairs, TeleCast setups and the bar-stooled drinking patrons, Lexi slipped up the spiraling staircase beside the liquor counter and into the decent sized restroom area.
Arranged like a hallway of an apartment building, the restrooms were lined up and down a short expanse of deep blue, sea colored silk carpeting, ten doors on each side. The doors themselves were a beautiful frosted glass with intricate turquoise tribal designs inlayed throughout, and Lexi knocked on the one closest to her. Hearing no response from within, she stepped inside and closed the door softly behind her.
The restroom floor was a somber, quiet area quite separate from the noisy and bustling lounge area below, and taking in the comforting solitude Lexi laid the bristling bulk of clothing down on the closed toilet lid and turned her attention to the mirror.
She was a mess. Her usually silky locks were in tumbles, stout bangs curved in front of her eyes and beside her eyebrows; and the rest of it refused to remain tucked neatly behind her ears and instead spilled over them in a plain sheet of dark hair. It wasn’t unkept or necessarily out of place and in fact looked more like some high-end style; and coupled with the sweat outfit gave the air of an athletic fanatic’s rustled together functional cut. All that was out of place were her injuries.
Lexi touched a finger to the cut near her eye, a clean slit that had stopped bleeding long ago. Her lip was split in the corner, most likely from Mr. S’s kick to the jaw, and Lexi tested it by stretching her jaw wide, wincing when it parted and blood seeped into her mouth.
“Bollocks,” She hissed, trying to curb the blood by licking the wound with her tongue.
She tested her wrist, rotating and twisting it back and forth a few times, but it didn’t give her near as much pain as before. It may not have been fractured like she initially believed, but only badly sprained.
Lexi backed away from the sink and lifted the grey hooded sweatshirt over her head, shifting her hair when it got caught up in it, and dropped it to the floor. She removed the concealed weapon and placed it on the sink as she loosened the string in the waistband of the sweat pants and stepped out of them one leg at a time, letting them drop to the floor as well. Now fully nude, she stepped back up to the mirror and tried to inspect herself the best she could for any other injuries she might have missed. Her eyes passed up and down her body, but as far as Lexi could tell she looked alright. She twisted to the side as she caught sight of something on the back of her hip, and saw it was only the bruise on her lower back, slightly above the cleft of her buttocks where the USP had been resting when she had ungracefully landed on her back in the sewer from the Deckard Hotel explosion.
Satisfied, Lexi grabbed the bra and underpants and slipped into them, doing her best to try not to let the band of the black panties rest on the bruise. As she stepped into the jeans, though, she realized that they were the retro low-riding make that was popular back in the twenty first century, which were slowly coming back into style. Unfortunately, they rested barely above the curve of her hips, and thus nearly dead center on the nasty bruise.
“Well... I’ll be damned,” She paused a beat, then finished with, “Bugger.”
Lexi picked up the sleeveless shirt and tugged her arms through, pulling the rest down over her head and sliding it over her breasts, the bottom of the tight shirt resting above her belly button. She finished the outfit off with the jean jacket, it also extending no father than her belly button. Tussling her hair, Lexi looked into the mirror, raising an eyebrow. Not the most respectable attire with which to meet your former mentor and father-figure, she mused, but it would have to do.
She bundled up the sweats and tossed them in the trash, and then taking a long roll of hand towels from the spool next to the sink, tossed it over the discarded clothing, covering her tracks in case someone reported her before she had boarded the Airship. This way, when she was getting off in England, they would still be looking for someone in grey sweats; and while she was missing the added advantage of the hood to hide her face, the change in clothing would give her just enough time to slip out unnoticed.
She hoped.
She retrieved the H&K from the sink and was about to replace it in the nook of her lower back when she realized the high riding shirts would not hide it. Lexi paused, contemplating. How was she to carry it then? She gave a snort of frustration and looked at the pistol like a parent might look disapprovingly upon a misbehaving child. She had to bring it- she’d be defenseless without it; what the Twin had done to her in the basement of the bathroom had proven to her what Amber had believed- that law enforcement, if not the government by extension could not be trusted. A Section officer didn’t assault an innocent women with no cause and then make threats on her life, even if she had tried to evade them. No, the weapon would travel with her.
Wait, she thought.
She slipped one arm out of the jean jacket and then the other, folding the material in half over her arm as if she was casually carrying it, effectively and discretely hiding her hand holding the gun. She raised a pleased eyebrow at the simple solution.
Satisfied, Lexi was about to leave the bathroom, her hand hovering on the metal handle, when she did a mental double take. What if they had been following her all along? Why wait until she got to England? Instead of taking her by force, Section decided to send plain clothed officers to bracket her; trailing her and following her every move until they got her in a compromising position where they could take her. Or lead her into a trap.
Paranoia rearing its ugly head, Lexi racked her brain to think of anyone she may have seen more than once when she shouldn’t have, anyone acting suspiciously or out of place; but she could come up with a single one. Either they were that good, or she was that naive- and if the previous days’ events were any clue then she would have to say the latter.
Removing her hand from the handle and backing away from the door, Lexi continued to ponder her predicament. Wouldn’t this be the perfect time for them to take her? She was alone on a floor secluded from the passengers below, in a small room where she would be unable to effectively defend herself, and with the frosted glass she had no way to tell what was waiting outside until it was too late.
No sooner had the thought crossed her mind she heard padded footsteps on the stairs outside the door, the quiet thumps on the carpet like thunder claps in her suddenly panicked mind. Eyes widening, Lexi backed further away from the door until she was practically sitting on the toilet.
Jesus, she was right. She was being bracketed.
The footsteps stopped outside the door, and Lexi could see the shadow of the figure under the crack of the door. She could see the shadow through the glass, too, and as she watched something was raised up to the door, the dark silhouette of an object getting darker on the frosted surface as it got closer. A weapon poised to attack when she unsuspectingly opened the door.
Lexi took a breath and then dropped the weapon and jacket to the shiny, tiled bathroom floor and leaped up in one fluid motion, bursting through the door with a violent shove, the thick glass crashing heavily into the figure beyond; shoving him backward as he grunted in pain. She shot into the hall, instantly grabbing the still outstretched hand of her assailant as he tried to stumble back, shifted her weight and whipped her hips around as she pulled him over her shoulder, sending the man slamming into the ground as she twisted his arm and put a knee into his back.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, shit, SHIT!” The man cried out as his face was pushed further into the silk carpeting.
He was dressed in tan slacks and a button down shirt that was rolled up at the sleeves, with a pair of sunglasses that had tumbled from the front of the shirt and was laying off to the side.
“Easy lady, EASY! Shit!” If not from his touristy dress, his tone alone told Lexi she had made a mistake.
She slowly stood up, releasing the man’s hand, which he hurriedly clutched to his chest as he scrambled to his feet.
“I was just going to knock to tell you your cats are trying to run amuck- the stewardess had to zip them back in that bag,” he said, out of breath, “Shit.”
“How did you know which restroom I was in? Were you following me?” As she asked this, however, her eyes flicked up and down the restroom hall and found hers was the only occupied room, as it was when she had first come up. She sighed and inwardly kicked herself. “I’m sorry, truly I am,” She pointed at her lip and the cut on her eye. “My boyfriend laid a few on me again...and I... thought you were him, coming back for more.”
“Shit lady, why didn’t you do that the first time he hit you?”
She gave an imperceptible shrug, trying to make another lie to back up her bogus excuse. “There were people around, I didn’t want to make a big scene...never mind- just” She shifted her weight as if she were in a hurry, “Look, just forget it, I’m sorry, alright?”
The man lifted his hands in surrender.
“Alright, shit.”
Lexi squinted, asking suspiciously, “How did you know those were my cats?”
The man raised his eyebrows as if to say sarcastically ‘hello?’ and said, “I sit behind you. Shit, lady, calm down.”
“Would you goddamn stop bloody saying shit! Please?” Lexi said, trying to sound like a battered girlfriend lashing out at someone. “I swear to god, if you say that word one more time I’m going to put this foot right in your John Thomas so hard the next time you try to speak you’re just going to make a little squeaking noise as you writhe on the floor in pain!”
She softened her tone as the man’s eyes went wide, “Sorry, sorry. Just don’t say anything to anybody, alright? If my boyfriend hears about this he’s just going to hit me again. Okay?”
“Your...boyfriend is sitting on another part of the ‘ship?” The man asked cautiously, fixing his mop of hair that had gone awry with her attack.
Realizing that sitting behind her, he would have seen if she had been with anyone, she rapid-fired yet another lie.
“When I told him before we got on the flight that I wanted to sit with my cats instead of him he hit me. I don’t even know if he got on the ‘ship at all, and I don’t care.”
The man held up his hands again. “Hey, I mean it’s none of my business. All I’m saying is next time look before you leap.”
She smiled. “Sorry,” She apologized, “Thank you for telling me about my cats, it was thoughtful of you.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said as he retrieved his sunglasses and exited down the steps and back into the Airship proper.
Lexi let out a big sigh and put a shaky hand on the wall, drooping her head. She needed to calm down, she was freaking out over nothing. Nobody had followed her, no one was following her. She had never even paid for the tickets for the flight, and her name wasn’t on them- so there was no record of a transaction at all. Once she got to England, there was no way they could find her, as long as she kept a low profile; and engaging in close-quarters combat with innocent people was most certainly not the best way to go about it.
She took another breath, relaxed herself and let go of her paranoia, and finally scooped up the jacket and USP before descending the stairway to the lounge. Slipping her hair behind her ear and smiling politely as she sidled by passengers, Lexi returned to her seat.
“Thank you, I’m apologize- they’re usually very well behaved,” She said to the stewardess who was standing over the bag, ensuring the cats didn’t try to cause further feline mischief before their owner returned. “It’s fine, really,” She reassured the dubious look given her, “I thought they were asleep and left the duffel open, is all. My fault.”
“Please don’t let it happen again, Ma’am or we’ll have to take them until the flight is over,” The crisply uniformed and stuffy stewardess responded curtly.
“I understand, thank you,” She replied to the back of the woman, who had moved on before Lexi had finished her first word.
Finally plopping back down in her luxurious seat overlooking the grand view outside the window, Lexi winced sharply as her pants pulled taunt across her bruise. She shifted uncomfortably, finally finding a safe position with her hips and rear angled at the window and her upper body straight ahead.
She sighed and looked over at her cats, who were poking their muzzles through the little hole in the bag the stewardess had left when she closed it up. Dina, Kitty, and White Kitty, the unconventional names lovingly taken from a favorite childhood book- Alice In Wonderland- the three cats were all she had.
Lexi stuck a slender hand in and stroked their muzzles with her fingers as they purred contentedly.
They were all she had until she found Carver.

You won’t get wise
With the sleep still in your eyes
No matter what your dreams might be

- Rush
Something For Nothing

CHAPTER 8

For all the events of the days preceding: the miraculous escape from CyberTech; the close calls; the introduction to the rebel force by way of a dark, thoughtful young woman and the charming selflessness of her father, the leader of said force; and the brutality of the enigmatic Twin agents of unknown origin; for all of these things Lexi found herself not at some far place of the globe, not rotting in a Section 7 prison, and not running away to foreign soil- instead she found herself back where she started, the beginning of her life’s track.
England.
Living with Carver in, what at the time had been, southwest London, she went though a total of three schools before finishing her education and returning to New York: Wimbledon school for girls; Gordonstoun, a prominent boarding school; and finally Swiss Finishing School. It was the first, though, that held the most memories for her and the one she held most dear.
The smell of the hallways, the crisp feel of the schoolbook pages, the laughter of friends and the often scowling faces of those that would teach them came back to Lexi like ghosts riding the crests of the gentle breeze that blew along the British sidewalk along which she walked. The school was new, fresh, a great change from the schools in New York, and the classy London herself worlds apart from the crass of the Big Apple. Her first few days of class would be forever imprinted in her mind as she thought herself a pioneer in new territory.
Through all of this, of course, there had been Carver Dwennon. Her rock. Her sanctuary. The one place she could always turn for help and advice. Lexi had lived with the man from age eleven to twenty one, and although her parents visited every year, and although she fought with herself to deny it; in her deepest of hearts she knew that it was Carver that she truly looked to as a parental figure.
It wasn’t for their lack of trying, or their failings as parents, it was simply that they weren’t there. Lexi held no animosity toward them at all for their choice to send her away to Carver, and as she grew older it had made more and more sense. With the onset of the technological revolution that rocked the globe and the devastating plague that rode in its wake, New York had turned dark, dangerous, and corrupt; it wasn’t the same place, and in Jax and Kari’s mind was no place to raise a little girl.
As she walked the streets of London once again for the first time in almost seven years, she could still see why. While the technology of New York was assaultive in it’s flaunting display of towering monuments of glass and steel, endless seas of gleaming Flitters, and characterized by its debauchery and decadent culture where a high class harlot could be found if you knew where to look, nightclubs were distasteful gatherings of lustful mutual pleasure, and the upper echelons of society looked down their noses upon the lesser privileged with thoughts only of their own continued well-being- London was, however, an entirely different beast.
Where New York excelled in crass feats of the newest technologies, London presented herself instead with regal poise. Combining new and old; crystal clear glass and slick steel was melded and fused with brick and mortar monuments to London’s past. Instead of destroying such historical objects like Big Ben, the Tower of London, Parliament, and even well-established small neighborhoods- the new was built upon the old, not overtaking it. Cylindric, independently rotating, tiered office floors built upon and designed to mimic the look of the obelisks that rose from the Tower’s four corners; Beautiful, sweeping steel curved walkways and Flitter fueling points billowing out from the expansive vertical space of the Big Ben like flourishing strokes of a painter’s brush; in some neighborhoods the houses were interconnected with glass tunnels, one leading to another, and another sometimes leading to a larger apartment complex or skyscraper adjacent, allowing families and acquaintances to more easily converse and congregate with one another. Flitters still populated the roadways and skies like immense insects, buzzing to and fro with an unerring purpose to deliver its occupants; but somehow the hustle and bustle of the Flitters as well as the citizens of the city in which they operated were different from New York’s. More steady and less rushed. Purposeful but not needy, determined but not obsessed.
A staunch advocate of purity and not of moral ambiguity, Lexi knew that here it was safe to assume that the clubs were not populated with heathens, she didn’t have to look the other way in disgust as women attempted to sell themselves, and the rich were more than happy to help the poor. London may have the technology of the rest of the world, but she didn’t let it corrupt her- instead the city made it her own without compromising her integrity. And while in politically correct terms, London was just a piece of land that belonged to the greater whole of the European Subsidiary and no longer existed as its own entity, to Lexi the gorgeous and fresh sight she saw before her would always be London.
As she walked along the sidewalk, Flitters to her right and quaint little coffee shops and corner stores to her left, a light breeze caught Lexi’s hair, tugging it softly as her bangs lapped against her cheeks. She held her head just a little higher, breathing in the crisp, untainted scent of English air and the soft aromas of the shops she strolled by. The jacket and handgun in her left hand, the duffel slung over her sleeveless right shoulder, and her blazing jade eyes clearer than they’d been in a long time, Lexi made her way to Carver’s flat.

. . .

A rap at the door startled the old man from his slumber, his eyes opening sharply and his hand nearly toppling the drink he’d fallen asleep holding. His bleary eyes regarded the TeleCast screen in front of him for a few moments, wondering what had awakened him.
A second knocking came at his door, this time sounding hesitant and reserved.
“Ahh,” He growled in disgust with himself. How long had he kept them waiting?
He shifted the throw blanket he had draped over his lap onto the armrest of the reclining chair as he slid up from his seat and set the Scotch down on the mahogany stand beside him.
“I’m coming, just a moment,” he said to the closed door, sliding his feet into his brown, suede leather house slippers. Taking a quick look down at his dark brown slacks and lamb’s wool sweater vest he decided he was decent to answer the door. It had been awhile since he’d had anybody come calling at his home.
Reaching the old fashioned wooden door, he slid back the equally old fashioned metal chain latch and twisted the doorknob. As he opened his house to the unexpected stranger beyond, his breath caught in his throat.
“My God.”

. . .

Carver looked exactly as she’d remembered.
Lengthy snow white hair covered his head, the locks combed neatly over to one side. His eyebrows and mustache were a darker brown, nearly untouched by the whitening of age, whereas the bearded face below presented a neatly kempt field of slick grey hair. His crisp, debonair, and intensely intelligent eyes stared back at her beyond his round, rimless spectacles in a state of shock. His sweater vest, slacks and slippers gave him the most homely and unassuming appearance, and as he shifted uncertainly the stark innocence and the years of loneliness that spoke through his slightly slouched stance and the way his arthritic hands caressed each other nervously nearly brought Lexi to tears as much as the joy of seeing him again.
“My God,” He said again. “Alexia, my girl, is that really...you?”
Lexi finally broke down and flung herself into Carver’s arms, hugging him tighter than she’d ever held anyone before. She buried her face in his neck, which held the distinct aroma of the after-shave he’d worn all those years ago, and burst into tears. She sobbed with happiness; with sadness; with loss; with the release of all she’d had bottled inside- finally safely back in the arms of the man she’d come to think of as more than a guardian, more than a friend.
A father.
“I thought I’d never see you again, all those years...” Carver’s Scottish accent, defined by the throaty rumbling of his voice and the soft slurring of his S’s only brought further tears to Lexi’s tired eyes.
She hugged him tighter and cried softly into his shoulder.
“I know,” She said into the soft material of his vest, and the comforting warmth of his body beyond. “I know.” Unwilling to let him go, this benevolent ghost of her past lest he slip away again into the obscurity of memory, Lexi gripped him tighter, her voice muffled.
“I’m so sorry. God I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I didn’t- I shouldn’t have...”
She burst into tears anew, and Carver rested his hand gently on her head, patting it with disarming reassurance. “Shh, darling. It’s alright. Come inside.”
Home again, the door closed behind her.

Lexi sat on the davenport, her haunches barely resting on the material, the jacket and the concealed handgun beneath resting against her thigh. She wiped the remnants of her tears from her eyelids, whisking the dampness away with a thumb.
“You’ve grown into a magnificent woman, Alexia, your parents would be so proud of you,” Carver said, as he settled himself into his chair across from her.
Cheeks flushing, Lexi brushed a lock of hair out of her eye as she smiled at the compliment. “Oh I-“ She started, lowering her head, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Carver.”
“What do you mean, my dear? Look at you!”
Getting straight to the problem at hand, she smiled agreeably, but said, “Carver, it’s been seven years since I’ve seen you- since I’ve even spoken with you. After what we’ve been through together?”
Lexi started to say more, but the old man hushed her with a raised finger and a stern look. “When you left me, Alexia, you were a woman all your own. I expected you to spread your wings and live your life- I didn’t expect you to keep as close contact as you would have had you stayed here in England. I didn’t want you to,” He said, “I wanted you to live your life, and moving back to New York, you’ve done it. I’m graced by your presence here today, blessed; but I would never have thought less of you if you weren’t here, now.”
Her gaze roved the room as her eyes once again brimmed with tears.
The den in which they sat was not an expansive space, but it wasn’t small either. A window off to her right and at the far end of the room gave way to the brilliant, gleaming wonder of London beyond; the blue hue of the city and the sparkling clarity of the sunlight within shone into the room with a eloquent sheen, bathing the book shelves, furniture, and all within with an otherworldly glow.
Beside the window on either side rested tall, rich oak bookcases filled end to end with novels and works of literature of all kinds, of all genres, of all shapes and sizes and of all influences. The spines of each were weathered with use and age, their presence themselves a window into the soul of the man who owned them.
A quaint desk, the top of which was covered with ruffled sheaves of paper scattered sporadically and a digital typewriter as a centerpiece, was placed directly before the glass portal to the land beyond, a testament to a vison that could only be seen through a writer’s eyes.
Deeper in the room, which was carpeted with a thick and gorgeous Ancient Egyptian design, sat the couch on which Lexi was perched, and opposite, kiddy-corner to the TeleCast screen, was the lounging chair Carver sat. Both pieces of furniture were a golden brown, which matched precisely with the beautiful mahogany wood that comprised the walls, the doorframes, and the archways into the other rooms and walkways.
It was much as Lexi remembered. The same small mementos were positioned in the same places along the hearth above the unlit fireplace behind the TeleCast stand; the hanging pictures the same; the pillows on the davenport were unchanged, as was the feel of the space. It was inhabited with a sense of love and the distinctive emotion of belonging.
“Carver, I’m in a spot of trouble,” she stated simply.
Before he could inquire, she added, “And I feel that if I wasn’t in such trouble I wouldn’t be here, now.”
The confused and hurt look in Carver’s eyes was more than Lexi could take. She studied her hands like they were the most important things on Earth.
“The last seven years...there’s something wrong with me, Carver..I can’t remem...” Lexi’s voice caught in her throat, and she took several moments before she tried again.
“I can’t remember anything, and the only reason I remembered you was...I...because of what happened....” Lexi raised her gaze and finally looked Carver deep in the eyes and asked, “How could I not remember you, Carver? How could I be missing seven years of my life?”
“I remember now, being here, and I remember my schools, but I only remember because a catalyst sparked the memories, like a match in the darkness.” She shifted uncomfortably on the cushy seat as she continued, drudging up thoughts which had previously only been teasing the deepest recesses of her mind.
“I attributed the...” She squinted, struggling to find the words, “The darkness of those years to a psychological disorder, a defense mechanism to moving back to New York, to the revolution, not having my parents,” Lexi breathed anxiously, finally brining to light thoughts she’d reserved until she’d met with Carver. “Those things certainly happen, right? There have to have been cases where...”
Stopping herself, Lexi refocused what she was trying to say. “But after what’s happened these last few days...I’m not so sure, Carver.”
Hearing the desperation and raw helplessness in her trembling, British-thick voice, Carver was nearly in tears himself. Only now, also, did the cuts on her face and lip register. “What, Alexia? What has happened? For God’s sake, girl, what’s wrong?”
Looking down again at her hands, removing hair and specks of debris from her pants that weren’t there, she fought to find the words. “I’m remembering things I shouldn’t.”
Through the next several hours Lexi recounted with as much clarity as she could, what had happened since her arrival at CyberTech, seemingly eons ago. Spanning her escape, the meeting with Jean, the explosion after the brief interlude with Amber, the running, the paranoia, The Twins; she spared no detail.
After she was finished, Carver stood, and without a word walked into the kitchen that was connected to the den via a sweeping archway. He didn’t shamble, but moved with the calculated stride of someone in careful thought. Lexi heard dishes and glasses tinkle, and finally Carver’s voice, strained and melancholy floated in from the adjacent room.
“Would you like something to drink, Alexia?” He asked softly.
The syllables of that final word, her full name, collided with her consciousness like a sledgehammer. The invisible blow unexpected and instantaneous, doubled her over as she gripped her head and hair in a ferocious grip.
“That’s good, Alexia!” The gravely voice shouted, laced with malice.
“AGAIN!”
Eyes fierce, the green globes balls of anger, hatred flowing through her veins as blood, Alexia spun deftly as she took her body through the motions of a death strike again, her right hand whipping around as her left tucked close to her body.
“HAAAAA!” She screamed, her voice just a nudge away from bordering madness.
Lexi blacked out.

Fuzziness filled her head, thoughts swirling back into the stark, penetrating darkness that had befallen her. Eyes feeling as though they were constituted of cotton balls and lids heavy as leaden weights, Lexi finally managed to flutter them open.
At first she could see nothing but more darkness and -mentally panicked, her mind set still lingering in the foolish realm of dreams- feared blindness. After a few moments, however, her vision adjusted and Lexi found herself lying on Carver’s couch, draped in a hearty duvet in the dead of night. How long she’d been out she couldn’t be sure.
Lexi sat up slowly, letting the blanket slip down her shoulders and droop across the arm of the davenport as she shed herself of the sheath of sleep as well. The fireplace crackled and popped at the other end of the couch, casting a gentle warmth throughout the room as the soothing sound of the fire calmed her nerves.
Across from her, nestled in the wrinkles and folds of the reclining chair, were her three cats. Lexi smiled faintly to herself. Carver must have seen to them after her blackout.
She shifted her eyes to the window, her milky skin and delicate curves bathed in firelight, her gaze fell upon the moon beyond that had come calling in a ghostly white. The Flitters, MagTrams, and the dazzling architecture around and within which they glided, were iridescent with the enchanting moonlight that sparkled off of their steel and glass bosoms.
The scene beyond reflected in her clear green eyes; the world dancing in crystal clarity between her blinking lashes and Jade oceans , Lexi stared- her mind lost in places far and away.
It was Caver’s firm, comforting grip on her shoulder that jolted her from her trance.
Lexi let out a startled laugh, and clasped her hand upon Carver’s as she rested her frilly, unkempt black locks on the old man’s slim hand.
“What’s wrong with me, Carver?” She whispered.
After a moment he came around and sat at the end of the davenport. Lexi cuddled herself against him like a lost little girl, folding his arm protectively around her chest as she rested her head on his, closing her eyes again.
“I don’t know, child; But we’ll find out together.” Was his hushed reply, nearly lost to the deafening darkness of the night and the crackling of the flames licking up out of the fireplace.

CHAPTER 9

Sitting at the dining room table, a dark mahogany piece with inlaid glass top, Lexi’s teeth crunched down on the warm English Muffin. Decided that, for the moment anyway, that she was safe from Section 7, Carver had forbidden talk of her plight until they had gotten caught up with each other again. More than happy to comply, Lexi sipped from her cup of tea as she crossed her legs and smiled at her cats who were running amuck in the rolls of the couch in the other room.
“So did you ever find anyone, Carver?” Lexi asked as she glanced over at the form hunched over the stove, fixing eggs.
There was a moment of pause before his answer, then Carver said, “No. My writing was more than enough to keep me busy.”
“Finished anything recently?” She inquired.
“A plethora of unfinished projects that I insist on putting off,” He gave her a grin over his shoulder, “The usual.”
He glanced over again after a silence, and seeing that Lexi was puzzling herself over something, added with a flippant wave of the spatula, “ I plan on finishing them all of course.”
She smiled at him and he winked before turning back to the eggs.
“No,” She began, “I was just thinking that all I ever saw you do when I lived here was write. No job, no lady friend...”
Carver scooped up the eggs-over-medium and slid them onto a plate that he set before Lexi, dropping the two remaining eggs onto a plate of his own. He returned the skillet to the oven and turned it off, slipping into a chair at the table.
“I made enough money with my first batch of books, about twenty I wrote over the span of ten or fifteen years, that I retired completely a little while before you arrived,” He explained.
“Sounds hard to believe, but at the time I was the biggest name there was in my field; my work went for a lot. Not novels, mind you, but more of a treatise format.”
Lexi tore off a small bit of her English Muffin and dunked it in the egg, tearing the thin veil of white to get to the milky yellow inside.
“What was your field?” She asked, her interest piqued, as she took a bite.
“Philosophy, of course. Haven’t I ever told you this before?”
‘Not that I can remember.”
“Well, you were just a girl then, I suppose. Yes, Philosophy. Mainly dealing with the perceptions of reality, alternate forms of consciousness, that sort of thing,” He said.
“Like dreams?” Lexi asked quietly, whisking away another bite of muffin and egg.
“A good portion, yes. Why?”
“No reason,” She said.
Carver mixed in some sugar with his tea as he asked, “Ah, but I want to hear more about this David character. How long were you two together?”
She let out a small laugh as she leaned back in her chair, raising her eyes in thought.
“He was like a dream,” Lexi recalled fondly. “ We were with one another almost a year, I think,”
The sunlight licked into the room in wispy trails of luminescence, and as she gazed into the beams of light she couldn’t help but think of the man who’d left her so long ago. She set her meal down and smoothed out the oversized button up shirt of Carver’s she’d slipped into the night before, and spoke again, softer.
“We used to sit like this all of the time, in the mornings before work. We’d talk about our days to come, our days past. From books to aliens,” Lexi laughed, “We talked about everything.”
“May I ask what came between you?” Carver asked politely.
As he asked, Lexi pondered the same herself. They had seemed a perfect match, or at least, as perfect as a match could come. Hardly ever did they fight or bicker about meaningless and trivial things. Always they showed affection and love for each other, giving flowers and gifts, and giving gifts that couldn’t be had with material things.
Carver’s innocent question had forced her to dig deeper in that black hole of memory, and she finally she said to him; “Whatever it was, it has something to do with this.”
An eyebrow of Carver’s raised. “I can’t see how you mean.”
Lexi set down the tea cup she’d begun to lift and sighed as she continued.
“We parted ways seven years ago, Carver. He said that he thought I had changed somehow; I wasn’t the person he fell in love with anymore. That is one of the last things I remember before working at CyberTech. It isn’t as though I suddenly woke up seven years later, but rather all that time was a blur- there but not.”
Eyes narrowing as she found her point amongst her own jumbled thoughts that were racing a mile a minute, she said, “I believe these last few days I’ve been remembering things from those seven years. Something’s triggered it, and whatever it is I’ve forgotten is whatever made me that different person,” She finished.
“Memories of what? How to fire weapons and fight? That doesn’t make any sense, Alexia,” Carver said skeptically.
“The question I think is, Carver: who would teach me that,” She said, resting her elbows on the table and leaning forward, “And why?”
“And you never thought of that before you arrived here? Now?”
Lexi smoothed the hair behind her ear that had fallen into her eyes and answered firmly.
“Honestly, I’ve put off thinking of it- even from myself,” Lexi said, pausing before continuing as she decided on how to say what she was thinking without sounding convoluted.
“A few weeks ago I had a dream...and ever since then there has been a feeling of loss, of emptiness, like I should have something that I don’t. I’d compare it to walking out of your flat without your billfold. You know you are missing something critical but for the life of you it won’t come to mind.”
“Go on,” Carver encouraged.
“After that dream I began to think of those seven years. When I first arrived in New York I had a rough time, Carver. Very rough. I was without parents, the technological revolution was still rocking the globe, the Plague was still a threat...honestly I thought that after David left it was the last straw in the delicate tower that my psychological state had been teetering in, and it had collapsed. I lived those seven years somehow without any of it sticking to memory. It sounds infeasible and foolish, but what was I supposed to think? I was too scared to get help so I just let it go and forgot about my forgetting, if you’ll forgive the horrible play on words.”
Lexi uncrossed her legs as she fought to get comfortable in the chair that had suddenly become intrusive.
“Until that dream, that is. Then these past days? It has to be related. I denied it until last night, when you used my full name.”
“Alexia?”
“Don’t use it. Call me Lexi, Please, Carver,” She said, raising her hands.
“The spell I had...it was definitely my past, and it was something I never remember doing. It has to be from those years. It has to be, Carver. And whatever happened it couldn’t have been good.”
“What was the dream?” Carver asked somberly as he tried to soak it all in.
Sighing deeply, Lexi took a small mouthful of tea before continuing, shrugging her shoulders.
“It doesn’t make any sense. There is this dark city, nothing but buildings, really, but there was a feeling of corruption-I don’t know how to say it better than that. At the center of this place is a large pyramid and there was an eye atop it- looking across the land,” Lexi paused, thinking, “As if it owned it, I supposed.”
A snowy eyebrow raised as Carver asked, “An eye?”
“As odd as that sounds.”
“And that was all of the dream?”
“Yes. Well, no,” She corrected herself. “Right before I woke up there was a feeling...”
Her gaze rose to meet Carver’s. “Belonging.”
A rumbling from his throat signaled that Carver was deep in thought as he prepared himself a second cup of tea.
Lexi fidgeted with the buttons on her shirt for a moment, watching him, before finally she broke the silence, exasperated. “Well?”
The corner of Carver’s mouth turned up in a half-smirk at her anxious expectations of him. “Well I’m going to take my dose of serum for the day and grab an old book of mine, something strikes me as familiar,” he said as he rose from the table.
Lexi’s heart froze dead in her chest as the old man’s words hit her like a sledgehammer to the ribs.
Serum! Good God, she thought, it’s been days since her last serum dose. Her mind spun as she considered all that must be happening to her; organs degenerating, motor functions seizing, vascular atrophy: she tried to remember what she’d learned about it in school, but the textbook pages infuriatingly eluded her.
She leapt up from her seat at the breakfast table, nearly toppling the chair as she backed away from Carver and crazily began checking her arms, legs, stomach, any bare flesh she could find for skin lesions, sores, anything of the sort. Lexi stopped when she realized the scene she must be making, and glanced up at Carver as she said between huffing breaths, “I haven’t taken any in over three days, Carver!”
The man’s face settled into a harsh gaze that looked normally reserved for handling insults or dishing out the same. “That’s impossible. You’d have been dead before seventy two hours.”
The words were delivered with confidence, but coupled with the stone face it sounded more like he was telling an onlooker from a Flitter crash that it wasn’t possible, those things just don’t happen.
She shook her head, hair pulling loose from its neatly tucked position behind her ear and flipping this way and that. “There’s no way I’m fine, there’s no way. It’s been days! I need to find a clinic,” She said as she bordered on complete panic.
“Lexi,” Carver said with authority.
She stopped.
“You’d have been dead long ago,” He stated simply. “If, by some perverse miracle of science you had the bad luck of still drawing breath- that’s about all you would be able to do, and not even well, at that. Your skin would be sloughing from your bones; you wouldn’t have any hair left, anywhere; you would not even be able to see your plight as your eyes would have long since given out and begun to decompose, and your organs would have the distinctly unpleasant task of eating themselves in a desperate attempt to keep you alive. Lexi, you’re fine,” He finished.
Her eyes searched his, but there was no uncertainty in them. She was fine. Suddenly she was angry, enraged, by what was happening to her. She had seemingly no control over her own body, her behavior, or even her own thoughts if the dream and flashback were any clue. Why?
“How!” She screamed, through a cloud of tears that pissed her off even more.
“GODDAMN IT, HOW AM I FINE!!”

Chapter 10

10.1|Observation

A sickly pool of blood gathered lazily beneath the man bowed on his knees in the middle of the apartment, a dark maroon slowly oozing into the bright red and mixing in gentle swirls of macabre art. Hands bound behind his back by thin plastic strips, he shifted painfully as they added to his agony by digging further into his dainty wrists.
Mr. T stepped around the man, who was really more a boy. His long jacket whispered as he brushed it aside his knee as he crouched, the heel of his slick dress shoes clacking on the tiled kitchen floor as he brought himself down to the prisoner’s level. He lifted the boy’s lowered chin with his index finger, forcing him to meet Mr. T’s harsh gaze.
“What did you say your name was again?” The voice thundered silently.
There was a sputter of blood from the boy’s lips, red inking its way down the corner of his mouth before he replied, “Martin.”
“That’s right. Martin,” Mr. T said as if he had forgotten.
“The name must have slipped my mind for a moment, lost amongst the mental list of all the other street filth I’ve been forced to concern myself with of late,” he continued.
Mr. T, normally a man of few words was now instead excited, enticed, by the prospects of torturing this fresh meat. No more than fourteen, this was by far his youngest subject. His only regret was that he was forced to conduct himself in this, his prey’s apartment, rather than amid his usual chambers at the U.N.
With his counterpart, Mr. S, in the field tracking leads, Mr. T had decided to stake out the woman’s apartment building. He had been hoping that by dumb luck or by sheer stupidity on Dickson’s part, he would catch her returning to her home. When days had passed with no results he had decided to come up and investigate; learn a little about the target he hunted. Or rather, learn what she’d become.
Mr. T had expected an empty apartment, and instead had found a haggard street youth holed up in the flat, sleeping on the kitchen floor wrapped in several blankets and dressed in simple ragged clothing that he was surprised stayed on the boy’s frail frame at all.
He’d made the boy regret falling asleep, and now he’d make him regret keeping secrets from him.
“I’ll ask you one last time,” Mr. T growled as he reached behind and snatched one of the boy’s hands, “How did you get in here? What connection have you with Alexia Dickson?”
“I’ve already told you- I swear!” Martin pleaded, trying to yell but managed only a meek whisper. “She paid me...to get her cats and I, she forgot her keys. I-“
He was cut off as Mr. T steadied the boy’s hand, and with a clenched pair of steel pliers he’d found in a kitchen cabinet, yanked violently downward, ripping out the index fingernail.
Martin’s piercing scream filled the air, echoing off of the walls. Trying to ignore the blinding pain and not think about the fresh blood splashing out onto the floor, he spoke at a furious pace, this time managing more than a whisper.
“It was cold outside so I used her keys to get in! I got separated from my parents and couldn’t find the entrance! I got lost so I! I slept here! I used her key! I...I!”
Mr. T stopped the foolish sniveling with a strong backhand that lifted the boy off his knees and crashing back down onto his side, nose bursting and spraying blood everywhere.
“Her cats?” He repeated, incredulous. “A woman on the run from Section-7, an enemy of the government...stopped back by her old place to collect,” Mr. T paused, reaching down and gripping Martin by his throat and lifting him back to a kneeling position, “Her cats?” He finished in a tone that widened the boy’s eyes more so than they already were. Which Mr. T had to hand it to the little street urchin, was quite the feat.
His grip tightened around Martin’s skinny throat. “Stop. Fucking. LYING TO ME!” He roared.
Before he could take another fingernail though, he paused, reflecting on the boy’s other words.
“What ‘entrance’ couldn’t you find, Martin?” He asked calmly.
By the way the boy reacted he knew he’d struck a nerve. Something important that had slipped through in the heat of the moment. Mr. T removed his hand from around the boy’s throat, prompting a gasp and then coughing as he choked on the blood flowing from his ruined nose in rivers.
“I’ll give you a moment to collect your thoughts. Think carefully about your answer.” Mr. T cautioned as he stood.
He turned and disengaged himself from his subject, strolling nonchalantly through the kitchen to the other half of the quaint apartment as he let the broken boy writhe about helplessly. On his immediate right as he exited the dining area was a wall-sized window with the shades pulled, and a bed with rumpled blankets beneath. He didn’t bother fussing with the shades; infinitely familiar with the city and what it had to offer he knew what lay beyond, his fascination with the nightlife long passed. Mr. T inspected the bed, and the chair pulled up beside it, and found nothing but an ear-ended book and what looked to be a worn grey t-shirt. A woman’s size.
The man was about to turn away to peer through the changing area when a few fibers on the shirt caught his eye. He leaned, tipping his Fedora as he gazed at what appeared to be a cluster of white and greyish black hairs. Cat hairs.
Mr. T rose. The little bastard was telling the truth after all. The Alexia he knew so well would never concern herself with cats. She really had changed, he mused.
What a pussy.
He glanced again at the cat hairs and mentally smirked at the silent pun.
The man turned back to Martin, appearing a hulking shadow slipping through the darkness, seemingly larger that a normal man by nothing but sheer menace; his naturally commanding presence making him tower. Black swept around him, flowing through the crevices in his hat, through the wrinkles in his jacket, gleaming off of his silken tie, and filling the space beneath his Fed