This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.5/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 543 Howard Street, 5th Floor, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA.

Copyright 2005 Jim The Cactus

For the latest copy of this work please visit http://www.nqig.net/~jtc/projects/nanowrimo05/

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Prologue

In the beginning, before there was plot, there was the author. The author looked upon the screen and saw nothing. This disappointed him, so he clicked "New Document", and one was created. He looked upon it and saw that it was good. Then he created a scratch sheet with plots and characters and titles, and when he was done, he looked upon his creation and saw that it was good. He then selected a plot from his scratch sheet and entered the title into the document, naming the document "Terminate and Stay Resident". And when this had been done he saved and rested. And here our story begins...

Chapter 1: A Quiet Beginning

"Lunar base likely to become uninhabitable due to long period of disuse" the headline of the science section read.

"Today in a press conference held by Bob Jacobs, head of NASA, Jacobs said that 'after the Lunar-4 rocket accident that took the lives of 3 crew members destined for the moon last year, we have grounded the project so that we could asses the Taurus launch vehicle for the cause of the life support system failure. But because of this, the Troy lunar base has been unmanned during this period. As a consequence the base has been falling into a state of disrepair. We have an unmanned supply and support robot launch scheduled, but without humans occupying the base, the life support systems have been decaying and will need expensive repairs that are difficult to justify. Without resolution the base may end up being nothing more than an automated mine.'"
- Gilbert Tejas, Staff Writer, Dover Post

Terrance put down the paper and finished off his toast. It was going to be another droll day. Seeing as it was time for work, he got his stuff together, put on his shoes, and started out the door for work.

"Uh uh uhhh, aren't you forgetting something?" a woman's voice called out from behind the counter. It was the voice of Lauren. Housewife, mother, lover, and bridge enthusiast, Lauren was the shining light in Terrance's life that gave him the strength to move on through the day. Slightly hotheaded however, Terrance would frequently find himself on the couch if things didn't progress the way she liked them too.

"Indeed I am, something very important," Terrance said sauntering over to his lovely wife and placing his arms around her. "But sadly they won't let me take you with me for show and tell." He kissed her softly.

"Awww, you never let me come," she pouted, curling out her lower lip. "But if that's how it must be then I'll just have to sit by the window and wait for my little boy to come home and play with me."

"I promise to come home soon," he said, and releasing his embrace and kissing her one last time, he headed out the door.

Work was pretty much the same as always. Terrance, like his father before him, had become an animal control officer for the city of Dover. The hours where reasonable, but people, and the mangy critters that they seemed to call pets, however, were not. Many a day would find him lassoing some riled up animal in a neighbors yard and dragging it back kicking and screaming to the owner, who never, it seemed, could understand why Snookums would act that way; they where always such a nice rooster. Not that they could explain how the rooster had got loose, or why they where keeping a rooster in a small 2 bedroom house in an suburban neighborhood. And today was no exception, his on board computer beeped.

"Dispatch Notice," The female voice of the computer chimed out.

"Details," Terrance commanded.

A man's voice, recorded from a telephone, came through the console speakers, "I saw this crazy thing rummaging through my garbage"

"Can you describe the animal please sir?" the female voice of the call center replied.

"Um, it's large and furry. It's brown and has a bushy tail."

"A raccoon sir?"

"Ya that! Send someone over here to do something about this!"

"We will sir."

The female voice of the computer returned, "Address: 407 Grunsby Lane. Date and Time: 9:30 AM, today, April seventh, two thousand forty-six. Call back number: (555) 555-7761."

"Will respond," Terrance replied and began making his way uptown, the computer beeped happily in response and brought up a map. He was familiar with the region. There had been several sighting of 'coons in the last few weeks and he hoped this time he would be able to follow them back to their nest and get the whole family this time.

He arrived at the home of Mr. William Brevard at around 9:50 AM. He looked around, sighing deeply at the marked absence of anything raccoon like, though noting the obvious damage caused by the hungry critter. He knocked on the door.

"Hello? Oh! It's you! Took you long enough! The blasted thing already left, no thanks to you. Made a hell'ave'a ruckus," the irritated looking man said, trying to keep whatever modesty one could muster given the limited amount of clothing he could heap on before coming to the door.

"Would you mind if I looked around a bit?" Terrance muttered as he looked around the corner of the house towards the pile of garbage strewn along the man's driveway.

"Sure, anything to make sure that thing doesn't come back!"

"Well, I can't promise that, but I'll make my best effort at it," Terrance remarked over his shoulder and he wandered off to his truck for some rubber gloves and a small forensics kit. Nothing so fancy as in the shows, but you never know when a few Ziploc baggies and some paper tissues might be handy.

Stuffing the small kit in his pocket he returned to the garbage bin and began looking for evidence of which way it had gone. Though no master, Terrance did fancy himself a fair tracker and reasonably quickly picked up the trail of tailings and followed the beast till he got to a privacy fence. He tried to follow the trail past that point, but he came up short.

"Damn bastard must have walked along the fence," Terrance muttered to himself. "I'll get you, I swear it."

Terrance returned to his truck, and spent the better part of the day listening to some music on the radio. He ran across a stray dog and returned it to Mrs. Johnson giving a warning and enjoying some of her delicious lemon squares (he would swear that woman waited for him to drive by and let Ginger loose just so she'd have some company.) Clocking out at the station he got back into his car and went home, cursing the lousy traffic and 10 minute drive even though he only lived a mile away from the station. Arriving at home he found his wife and son Charlie waiting for him at the dinner table.

"Running late today I see." Lauren said to him as he kissed her while taking his seat.

"Ya, traffic was miserable. 10 minutes to go one mile is beyond ridiculous. But there was this accident and James was out there directing traffic."

"So things weren't exactly flowing smoothly then?" Lauren said with a chuckle.

"With James directing traffic does it ever? Oooh, spaghetti!" Terrance said taking a few bites, "So Charlie, how'd the game go?"

Charlie, a strapping young man at the age of twelve, had been playing with his food this whole time, and flinched at the question. "Good."

"Aw, what's the matter champ? Didn't you guys win?" Terrance said, half chewed meatball sticking out.

"Nothing's wrong, we did win."

"So why are you so down?"

"Its just that..." Charlie gave his shoes a glance.

"Well?"

"It's just that, that... Well, I really don't wan'na play any more."

"Really?" Lauren said quixotically, "I thought you loved playing volleyball."

"I do mom, but, well, see the guys at school called me a wimp for not playing football. They said that volley ball is a girl's game."

"Volleyball! A girls game?" Terrance exclaimed, "Just ignore them. They don't have any idea what they're talking about. Volleyball is very much a man's sport! They just aren't old enough to understand the reasons yet." Terrance shot a sly glance to Lauren and went on grinning and eating his dinner.

"Don't worry about what they say honey. They just aren't able to appreciate the sport because they refuse to play it. Don't let them get to you. If they where comfortable with themselves as football players, they wouldn't have to pick on you to would they"

"That's not much comfort mom." Charlie said, winding the stringy noodles on his fork and taking a small bite.

"I know honey. I wish there was more I could tell you or something I could do to make it go away, but part of becoming an adult is learning to deal with life's minor inconveniences and move on."

"I know mom, I know."

"Well," Terrance said in a falsely cheerful voice, "That was yummy, Who's up for a game of Plumber Party?" 

"Ya!" Charlie said, perking up at the mention of his favorite game.

"Charlie? Don't you have homework to do?"

"Aw but mom?"

"Well... Okay, just this once" Lauren said.

Charlie and Terrance jumped from their seats, placed their plates in the sink and ran over to the new Immersatech Higher Reality 2 game machine. They placed the football helmet shaped device on their heads laid themselves down on the comfy floor mats and got themselves cozy. They flicked a switch on the helmet, closed their eyes and waited for the game to load.

Chapter 2: A Higher Reality

“External induction brain sensor/stimulator technology (EIBSS for short,) developed by a conglomerate of professors at the Michigan Institute of Technology, was man's first successful attempt at creating a "virtual reality" by the use of an external device to stimulate and read the brain directly. First tried on humans in 2028, EIBSS used resonant nanoantennas to allow an external transceiver to stimulate or detect the stimulation of groups of neurons classified by key binder site proteins. Approved for general use seven years later, EIBSS, now colloquially known as SimSense, (after the brand name used by the first manufacturer of the EIBSS technology for a fringe PC accessory in the same year,) has become the up-and-coming replacement for desktop displays.

However, at the cost of 3500 dollars a helmet (which roughly resembled a mini fridge on your head) and requiring the medical application/calibration of the nanoantennas the SimSense device saw little market penetration. However, in 2039, a breakthrough in the nanoantenna deployment technique allowing for the ingestion of the nanoantennas coupled with a revolutionary new method for positional approximation in the software allowed the device to be built in a manageable package for a price that consumers could afford and no longer needed the aid of a doctor to use. 

The Higher Reality game machine was introduced in response to demands from consumers for full emersion reality simulations. Developed in 2040 by Immersatech Gaming Systems, LLC., the Higher Reality used the innovative new technology to bring the most realistic gameplay experience ever to the users. Ushering in a new era of connectivity the Higher Reality brought people together in ways not previously known to man and allowed for communication in real time as though people where actually gathered. However, the same year, the device was pulled from shelves for being "an all too real simulation of violence and sexual matters," by pressure from parental advocacy groups and laws where passed in most first world countries placing explicit limits on realism and usability.
 
Responding to this Immersatech developed the Higher Reality 2 the following year. Essentially a crippled form of the original Higher Reality with some minor software improvements, the HR2 (as it has come to be called in juvenile circles,) rekindled the many communication circles that had been operating in secret on tunneled networks since the Immersatech network had been shut down. A cultural explosion has since occurred, introducing several new art forms and cultural types based on the new form of expression. Scents, sounds, and even body positions could be encoded as sensory data and transmitted via the SimSense interface.

But with all of this power, the SimSense systems (except for the rare few grandfathered by the laws,) where still crippled, so most people, instead of appearing as people (which would have been too realistic for the laws,) found themselves choosing cartoony shapes and forms, abstract objects, and even animals as their avatars on this new plane of existence.”
- “On the modern marvel and it's society”, Dr. Karl Freeman, Ph.D of Social Science, University of North Carolina

With a slight tingling sensation, Terrance felt himself slip from his body into a dream like state. He opened his eyes to see the Immersatech hover lightly above the floor that he was apparently now standing on. A progress bar on it scrolled slowly around it. He looked around the room. The dusty gray floor was bordered on all sides by a red felt wall, reminiscent of a royal greeting room. On the wall behind the logo was a automatic sliding door. Then after a few moments the logo flashed slightly and a woman's voice spoke, “What is your username?”

“Fragzilla” Terrance replied calmly.

“Please wait, verifying identity...”

A few moments passed, the logo was spinning slightly.

“Identity verified. User 'Fragzilla' approved. Welcome.”

Terrance watched as his hands became visible in the form of humanoid furry orange paws. His attention shifted back to the computer when it spoke, “What do you wish to do?”

“Plumber Party please.”

A light suddenly came on illuminating the door which then opened. “Enjoy,” the woman's voice said. 'Fragzilla' stepped through into a large lobby where he could see two or three dozen people looking at various doors, apparently pondering their options.

“Dad!”

Fragzilla turned and saw a viscious looking dragon coming his way. The dragon had a light green name over his head proclaiming he was “HotFoot”. Fragzilla waved happily, “Hey HotFoot! Find any rooms that look fun?”

“Ya, this one over here! Hey, using the calico avatar again?”

“Ya, no matter how many times I try to find a better one I always seem to end up coming back to this one.”

“Whatever dad.” HotFoot said walking off to one of the doors.

Fragzilla followed HotFoot over to one of the many doors spread around the room. He looked at the sign on the left, It read:

Bring a friend, No N00bs
2/4 players
Game Type: Team Deathmatch

Fragzilla looked at HotFoot, “Sounds like a plan to me,” he opened the door, “After you.” He cracked a smile. HotFoot wandered in and Fragzilla followed. The room was similar to the login room. It had a logo in the center and red velvet walls. However, unlike the login room, there where three doors (two on one wall and the one he came in on the other side,) and now three other people in the room with him. “Ready?” the logo said, glowing as it said it.

“Yes.” they all said, matter-of-factly. The doors on the far side of the room opened up and the four players walked through, the other players, a man sized hippopotumus with humanlike hands named “CommandoHippo” and a very disneyesq looking princess called “NinjaPrincess”, stepped in through one door, while Fragzilla and HotFoot walked through the other.

Inside they found a rack of various implements, all of which where plumbing themed: a pipe wrench, a crossbow with a quiver of plungers, and more. Both selected their weapons of choice, HotFoot selected a pipe wrench, which was quickly replaced by another from an opening behind the wrench which opened and spit out a new one. He also selected a scrub brush launcher that fired off flaming scrub brushes.

Fragzilla also selected a pipe wrench but chose a pair of clog'b'gone blasters from the rack to complement his heavy blunt object. He then stood on a pad in the center of the floor and waited. A sign next to the door showed four dots in two groups, three of them where green and one was blinking red. A muffled “Come on!” passed through the wall, startling HotFoot who then stepped on his pad. Two holes opened in the ceiling and the pads lifted up through the holes.

Fragzilla found himself in a large arena shaped like a sink with several object discarded casually in it. He was standing on the rim of the sink on one side and his opponent was standing on the other. The ran off the edge and into the sink bowl. Fragzilla took up cover behind a rubber ducky and HotFoot took up a position behind a capsized toy boat. Fragzilla gestured quickly to his son and they both jumped out from behind their cover. No enemies where visible, so Fragzilla motioned to advance. As the moved forward, the crafty opponents ambushed them from their left flank swooping out from behind a bar of soap covering them fire from a pair of well aimed automatic pipe edge launchers.

Fragzilla felt several taps against his skin and he felt like he was moving through molasses. Shortly thereafter he felt himself loose control of his body and things go limp and dark. When he awoke he was back at the equip station. He grabbed the same weapons and headed out. While he was grabbing his guns HotFoot appeared a short distance away. He stood up and looked at his father, “They're good.”

“Yes they are son, but all that means is that we have to be better right?”

“YA!” HotFoot said, grabbing his guns. “Plan B?”

“Plan B.” Fragzilla said, as the two stood on their platforms and rose up into the arena. The both took off in opposite directions, each running along the edge of the bowl. As they got to the half-way mark, they both turned down into the basin with their pipe-wrenches pulled. They met in the middle with the two opponents trapped in the middle. Each met a slow, wrench in stuffing loss at the hands of their assailants.

The fight, and several like it continued for an hour or so when Fragzilla and HotFoot heard Lauren through the environmental communication interface “Charlie! Time's up. Time to do your homework.” 

HotFoot's voice echoed in everyone's head, “Aw... Man, well I have to go. Mom's yelling at the meatbod again. I'll talk to you guys later.” The large dragon clapped twice and faded out of the arena. CommandoHippo grunted over the general com, “Dude, it's no fun with only one opponent.”

“Agreed, I'm gonna log out and do some web surfing.” replied Fragzilla. “Laters peeps. Good game.”

“You too dude, we'll play again sometime.” Fragzilla clapped twice. The arena faded to black and he found himself in the login room again.

“Hello Fragzilla, what do you wish to do?” the woman's voice said.

“Show me the Internet browser please.”

Again, the light came on and the door opened. This time he found himself in a room with a comfy chair in the middle with a mouse and keyboard tray, a projector producing a highly legible screen on one wall, the door he came in and an additional door that was currently not lit. He sat down in front of the keyboard. Sure there where several sites now that had immersive content and user navigable sites, but most where still using the older html text site layouts. SimSense had given the world a whole new way of looking at computers, but also, as an ironic twist, had given the world a whole new way of doing the same old stuff in a new way.

“Navagent, pull up the Dover public library.”

The door on his left lit up and opened. He stepped inside and found himself surrounded by book after book. Immediately as he walked in he was greeted by rather hawkish looking automated agent.

“Welcome to the Dover public library Mr. Covendale. You currently have 1 item checked out and can check out one more.”

Terrance walked passed the agent and on to the sci-fi section. He had recently read all of Issac Asimov's works on robots (with a bit of a chuckle) as well as some of the new stuff done by Lenard Yavenmore, though getting his hands on Yavenmore's “Traveling Visions” series was quite a bit of work as it was currently all the rage. He wandered over to a classic film called Serenity and read the review. Deciding that it might be a good watch for later he walked over to the agent with the tag for the movie and checked it out. “Your movie will be ready to watch when it finishes downloading.” the agent said. Terrance walked back through the door and into the web browser room. The door closed.

“Navagent, could you please show me my e-mail.” Terrance commanded. The computer chimed happily, promptly displaying a list of e-mails as requested. “Read them to me, or play them back.” Terrance said, settling into his chair and fiddling with his furry orange tail.

A mans voice became audible in the room, “Hey, this is Bob. Was wondering if you where up for a game of bridge Sunday. I know Margret would love to play and I can't see Lauren saying no. Get back to me when you can. Ciao.”

“Navagent, reply.” Terrance waited a moment for the happy beep signaling he could begin recording. “Sure Bob, I wouldn't see things going any other way. I'll have my navagent put it on my schedule so I don't forget. The only question is your place or mine. Navagent end message.”

The computer beeped happily. “Next E-Mail” the female voice said, “Text only: Hey, Terrance. I haven't had a chance to look at those reports yet, but if I get a chance I'll get back to you. In the mean time, we'll just have to hope the critter's not got rabies and let the callers whine for a bit. Anyway, see you at work. Signed Gary Roberts. Private and confidential. If you are not the intende...”

“Navagent, skip the rest.”

“E-Mail skipped. End of new e-mails.”

“Move them all to the old mail box”

“Mail moved”

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome Fragzilla.”

“Navagent logout.”

“Good bye.”

The world faded to black. Terrance opened his eyes, looked about a bit and stretched. No matter how many times he had used SimSense he just couldn't get over the feeling of waking up after an restless sleep every time he logged out. The busy light blinked steadily on the HR2 as it downloaded the classic work.

“I think I'll get a cup of coffee.” Terrance said.

Chapter 3: Mumblings
“In the early parts of the 21st century, mankind struggled to achieve voice recognition and language recognition with reasonable reliability. Then in 2030 a man named Johann Donalds, a professor of neuroscience at the University of Colorado stumbled upon an amazing discovery. While studying lingual response in the autistic children using the newest electroencephalograph technology that allowed him to see almost instantly what parts of the brain where activated, he noted that a particular region of the brain was activated every time someone spoke to the child. Further research yielded what had never been understood before, how man comprehended language.

Armed with the knowledge, a small army of grad students, and a fresh government grant, Donalds worked round the clock to reimplement this methodology using computer programming. Once the project was finished, the university spun off a company under the name Clear Speech to produce products and services based on the new language recognition system. However, it wasn't until the leading operating system manufacturer of the time purchased a license to use the system that the product actually began to see serious implementation.  By 2035 almost every computer in every person's home could readily speak and understand common English, (or suitable equivalent.) Translation software advanced by leaps and bounds with the availability of semantic aware language processing software. The world could finally communicate freely in any language without significant penalty.

This would ultimately harm several industries, but these are considered by most to have been worthy sacrifices to the cause of humanity.”
- Jacobson et. al. “The Talking Machine.” Random House Press. 2037

Terrance walked over to the coffee pot, and glancing into it's vast emptiness, decided that instant may be the better way to go. Reaching into the cupboard he pulled down a mug and filled it with tap water. He placed it in the microwave and tapped in three minutes. He pulled down the instant coffee and got a spoon from the drawer. 'Three minutes is a long time' he thought to himself, pondering what to do with the remaining 150 seconds. He figured he's go check on Charlie, see how his homework was coming. 

Terrance knocked on the door. "Charlie, how's the homework coming?" Terrance waited a bit. But didn't receive an answer. Terrance swung the door open, "Working pretty hard aren't we..." Looking about, Charlie was nowhere to be found. A half completed homework assignment sat quietly on the desk, the lamp still on. "Hey Honey! Have you seen Charlie?" More silence. Terrance knocked on the bathroom door, peeked in. Nothing. He checked their bedroom nothing.

The microwave beeped. "Must've stepped out for something." Terrance mumbled to himself. He pulled the cup out of the microwave and stirred in some instant coffee crystals. The crystals dissolved into a murky froth. Terrance sat looking into the swirling liquid. He took a sip and walked over to the couch. Terrance sat there taking in the quiet. Rarely did his busy life offer him luxuries such as quiet time to himself. 

"Download complete" the female voice chimed from the HR2 in front of the TV. Terrance eagerly picked up the remote control and turned on the tube. Then selecting the freshly downloaded movie Terrance settled in with his coffee and eagerly watched the classic film. However, as the film dragged on, he couldn't help but wonder where Charlie and Lauren had gone. Typically they did everything as a family, not always mind you, but often enough to usually leave a note when they had to go. Plus you would usually wake up from the SimSense if someone yelled, or at the very least you would hear it through the environmental comm. Why would they leave without telling him? Before everything was said and done he had missed the special scene he was waiting for and had to rewind.

When the movie finished it was late. Terrance was getting worried, but he knew the protocol. Wait at least 24 hours before you call or you're just going to get a lecture on patience from the operator. And who knows, maybe he had just forgotten something they had told him about and he should have known they'd be out. Work the was a bit trying since he had stayed up so late waiting for them. But he figured they'd be waiting for him at home. But quitting time came, and no one was there when he got home.

He tried calling all of their friends, including the few of Charlies friends that he had numbers for (Usually Charlie wrote it on a scrap paper and Terrance would end up loosing it shortly afterwards,) however, none of them had seen either of the two for at least a day. Not even at school. Terrance was now genuinely worried. He called the police, who promised to look for them. They asked if there was anyone who could stay at the house and watch for them, and he replied that he was alone, so the asked him to stay there and wait.

Terrance waited at the house all night, and even called in sick the next day so that he could be home just in case. But still nothing. A whole week went by and he nor the police, nor any of their friends had seen hide nor hair of either of them. Terrance was completely out of ideas, and his hope was waining fast. He sat on the couch, holding his knees, wondering what he could do.

"Incoming Call from the Dover Police Department" the Immersatech brand female voice proclaimed in a cheery tone.

"Pickup!" Terrance Snapped. The machine made a telephone off hook sound. "This is Terrance."

"Mr. Covendale?" a man's voice said through box in the middle of his living room floor, "This is Sargent Wallace at the Dover Police Department. We have some news on your wife and son. If you could come down to the police station we'll talk about it."

"Already on my way," Terrance said, grabbing his keys and wallet, "Thanks. Autonav, hang up."

"Call terminated." the woman's voice informed him.

Terrance headed out the door, locking it. Having trouble avoiding speeding in his eagerness to get to the station, Terrance tried turning on the radio, but it did little to calm his impatience. 

Arriving at the police station, Terrance half sprinted up to the steps to the civic center. “Been a while since I was excited to be coming here.” Terrance mused to himself. Arriving at the front desk Terrance was instructed to go back to the police desks by Mary the cute receptionist, but her expression troubled him. He could only assume the worst.

That was, until he turned the corner and saw Charlie sitting with Sargent James Wallace. Terrance beamed, “Charlie!” but he just sat there. James got out of his chair and intercepted Terrance, pulling him off to the side. “We managed to find Charlie wandering though an ally muttering to himself, he hasn't stopped since. We found Lauren's body as well not too far from the scene in a dumpster,” Terrance stumbled backwards a bit, “We're looking for any clues right now, but it's not looking like we're going to have a lot to go on. If Charlie was in better shape, we might be able to get some good leads, but he won't respond to us. He just sits there mumbling to himself.”

“Any idea why? Or what about?”

“No. It sounds like he's running though a conversation with Lauren. We can only guess that he watched what happened to Lauren and he's not taking it very well.”

“What happened to her?”

“I'm not sure you would be so eager to hear the answer to that if you knew what happened,” James said, taking the opportunity to notice how shiny the black and white tile floor was.

Terrance didn't know what to say. He knew that they wouldn't say that unless there was something particularly gruesome involved. He would have to work with Charlie, but at least for the moment he felt he probably wouldn't be able to handle the explanation himself. “I'll take your word for it then James. I might ask later,” he said wiping a tear from his eye, “but for now I don't think I could deal with that.”

“I understand,” James said, “We'll continue the investigation, and when he calms down, we would like to talk with Charlie and get his account of the events. While we have you here, we would like to ask you about what you know.”

Terrance sniffled, “Sure... If I can help I will in any way I can.”

They spent the next several hours grilling Terrance about what he had been doing, how their love life had been, any information about enemies, what she did in her free time, the works. More than once they had to stop to let him get himself back under control, a task which he found very difficult, though that wasn't exactly unexpected all things considered.

“Well, I think we've covered all we can for the moment. Would you mind calling us if Charlie feels like talking?” James said with an exhausted look.

“Sure. And thanks for looking for them for me. I just wish you could have found them in time.”

“As do I Terrance. Lauren was a good woman, it's a shame to see things end this way.” James said, “Here's my card, not that you really need to be reminded of the phone number here, it's always nice to have one on hand later, at the very least as a bit of scratch paper.”

Terrance forced a troubled giggle, “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it. Go home, get some rest. There's little more we can do here.”

“Right. Sleep. Charlie?”

Charlie didn't react. He continued mumbling. Terrance went up and tapped him on the shoulder. He glanced up, mumbled to himself a bit, got out of his chair and followed Terrance to the car. On the ride home, Terrance tried several times to strike up a conversation, but to no avail. Once Charlie looked up at him when he said something, but the look in his eyes terrified Terrance. He looked as though someone who was asking for mercy from some great agony. Charlie then returned to mumbling.

Once home, Terrance lead Charlie to bed and tucked him in. Then he went to his bed and cried himself to sleep. Charlie was excused from school the following morning for the rest of the week. Terrance took some leave time to try and get himself together. During the week Charlie grew steadily better. By Thursday the mumbling was almost gone. He would regularly react to people talking to him, and he would reasonably respond to questions asked of him.

The funeral was held on Friday. It was obviously a closed coffin event. The friends and family all came. Uncle Chris gave the eulogy. However, Charlie's behavior worried Terrance. During the initial parts of the ceremonies Charlie kept giggling and pointing at the coffin. Then during the eulogy he spent quite a bit of time mumbling to himself. He disturbed many of the family members around him. Terrance spent some time explaining what had happened and the family members seemed to understand.

Chapter 4: The Watchful Superego

The children at school, however, turned out to not be so understanding. The issues became so severe that Charlie ended up being scheduled to see the school councilor. The councilor advised Terrance that Charlie would likely benefit from some professional psychologic councilling. So Terrance planned to use some of the money from Lauren's life insurance policy (most of which had gone to the funeral and paying off the loan on the house,) to hire a psychiatrist.

Despite the help it may have been to him though, Charlie was far less than enthusiastic.

"I don't want to go to a Psychiatrists! They... Um... They scare me! Ya, that's right, they scare me!"

"Don't you think that it might help, at least with the kids at school if you saw someone who could work with you on this whole mumbling business? You have quite a few of your relatives worried. And I'm worried too son. I love you, and I loved your mother too, but do you think she would be happy knowing that her son spends all his time mumbling to himself, and because of it, people at school pick on him, his aunts and uncles snicker about him behind his back, and he can't go out into public without drawing a few stares?"

"No. No she isn't."

"Huh?"

"Wouldn't. Sorry."

"Well then? Don't you think that she would think it for the best?"

"No actually. I think she'd say 'Psychiatrists are quacks. They take what is an otherwise complex thing like human emotions and render them down to a simple diagnosis and then prescribe some drug to make you not care about your problems, rather than addressing them.'"

"Okay, I'll give you that point. She would say that. I can't make you go, but I really worry about you. I hope you'll make the right decision. I want to help you through this, but I can't help if you won't let me. Please, think it over."

"I will dad. I promise."

Charlie headed off to his room and closed the door. 'I'm sure he'll make the right decision.' Terrance headed off to the living room to see if he couldn't find any cases similar to Charlie's. He suited up and laid down for a quick net run.

"Welcome Fragzilla," the female voice answered after logging in, " what do you wish to do?"

"Pull up the web browser please."

The light came on and the door opened. Terrance walked in and took his seat at the keyboard. He didn't suspect that this time he would be finding too many new higher reality enabled websites on this search. He spent hours wandering through various websites, puzzling over the various examples noted before by psychologists where the subject had suddenly come down with mumbling following a severe event in their lives. Almost all of them turned out to be an example of post traumatic stress disorder, with them mumbling to themselves part of the event that occurred, playing over the trauma again and again. 'Makes sense' Terrance thought to himself. 'Charlie must just be dealing with things. But he really needs to be counciled. We'll just have to see. In the mean time I think it may be best to wait for him to ask for help. I've thrown him a line, he has to pick it up.'

In a brief moment of insight Terrance called out over the environmental communication system “Hey, Charlie, you do your homework yet?”

“Ya dad.” came back the response. Terrance couldn't ever remember hearing that response before, but Charlie wasn't typically one to lie.

“Really?”

“Really Really dad.”

“Oh... Well, want to join me for some Plumber Party?”

“Sure,” the enthusiastic answer came back.

“Well, hop on!” Terrance said, glad that he could spend some time with his son.

They played for a while, but it soon became apparent that something was wrong.

“Dad, it's really laggy today. I feel like I'm teleporting around the arena.”

“Ya, I hear you, our connection must be bad today. I'll call the ISP again. I thought they had this fixed.” Terrance said over the point to point communicator. Terrance clapped twice. The game arena faded away and the login room again became visible.

“Navagent, please dial Web Services.”

“I cannot do that is there are no available system resources.” the chipper woman's voice chimed back at him.

“No available resources? I've done that several times. There's only me and Charlie logged in.”

“I show 3 people logged in.”

“3 people? Have we been hacked?”

“I don't know.”

“What users are logged in from this terminal?”

“Fragzilla, HotFoot, and BenevolantAngel are currently logged in.”

“I don't recognize that third account. Disconnect them from the system.”

“I cannot do that as the account is of higher priority than yours.”

“Patch me through to HotFoot then.” Terrance commanded.

“Connected by voice chat to HotFoot on the Plumber Party Teros server.”

“HotFoot, I think we've been hacked. I'm going to shutdown the system. Please log off.”

“Um... Okay dad.” HotFoot replied, hesitating slightly.

“Navagent, please log me off and shutdown.”

“I cannot do that. An administrative override is in place.”

“Then just log me out.”

“Goodbye Fragzilla.”

As Terrance came to, he swiftly took off the helmet and unplugged the HR2. The machine's fans, which had been making an uncharacteristic amount of noise spun down and the machine grew silent.

“Well, I think I'm gonna have to fix it. See if anything was affected. In the meantime, however, I think I'm going to have to ask you not to use it.”

He looked at Charlie. Charlie had a frozen look of horror stricken look on his face. “It isn't that bad Charlie. I'll have it back on it's feet soon, I promise.

Charlie unfroze, like someone had been holding him in place. He looked at Terrance much more calmly and said, “Okay dad. I hope you get it fixed soon though.”

“I promise I will. But for the meantime it means that we're not able to play Plumber Party.”

“It's alright dad. I've got a project for school I should get a head start on. My teacher wants me to grow some been sprouts.”

“Been sprouts? Sounds like a fun project.”

“Do you think I could do it in mother's garden?”

Terrance froze for a bit, Lauren's garden. Next to bridge, gardening was Lauren's favorite hobby. Terrance's first instinct was to say 'No, that's your mother's. Keep it as it was.' but he quickly realized that it would be folly, and the garden would do nothing but reinforce the pain he felt at her death.

“Su...Sure. Go ahead.”

“Thanks dad,” Charlie said without hesitating for an instant, “I'm going to go to the store and get some seeds.”

'Wow, when he's not mumbling to himself he seems very calm about his mother's death.' Terrance thought to himself, 'Half the time it's like she never died, and the other half it's like he can't do anything but relive her death.' Terrance puzzled over it for a while before ultimately deciding that he would have to trust Charlie and getting to the process of checking out the HR2.

Chapter 4: The Garden Is Growing Well.
“... The bombings in 2007 of the White House and Pentagon caused a major paradigm shift in US information policies. The bombings, which where ultimately tied to the Cult of the 9th wonder, a terrorist group supporting the free availability of Internet access to all groups, where the direct cause of modern Internet content controls. Following the bombings, the United States Congress passed the Information Networks Control Act (INCA) of 2008 with the intent of cutting off the terrorists from the network that had been used in the planning process of the bombings. With it, the United States deemed that the Internet was no longer an arena of free speech and was subject to direct regulation by the newly created Telecommunications Regulatory Council (TRC). In the same year, the UN moved it's headquarters to the newly established premises at Nuremberg, Germany.

The TRC wielded the power to directly request, with no warrant, the contact information for any person connected to the Internet and where free to monitor all Internet communications without limit. The construction of the US Central Telecommunications Observatory in 2009 marked the beginning of a frightfully Orwellian information culture. Some amount of deviant traffic made it through the systems, but since all forms of encryption where deemed military grade munitions and consequentially banned by the INCA, this traffic was limited to only the smallest elite of hackers.

Accordingly, almost all intellectual growth in the United States came to a relative halt for several years. In this period, Japan, South Korea, and several developing nations overtook the United States in both technology and wealth. The crushing trade deficit caused by the high demand for higher quality foreign goods, coupled with the nearly non-existent privacy in the US caused many companies to relocate to developing countries. 

The decline lead to extremes of poverty and unemployment. Finally, in 2012, the civil unrest caused by the poor conditions ultimately lead to rioting in the streets. The government mobilized the national guard to combat the rioting, but since the government had little resources remaining from maintaining the ongoing Iraqi occupation, the underpaid national guard barely was able to keep the larger majority of the fires under control, and eventually the capital fell to anarchy, leaving the military unsupported in Iraq. The now mature Iraqi republic offered them asylum in exchange for bolstering their ranks.

For the 3 years following, what had once been the United States existed as nothing more than a fiefdom of controlled by a variety of various warlords permanently locked in territorial conflicts. In the historic New Philadelphia meeting of 2015, most of the warlords gathered together to establish a new constitution for the mutual betterment of their lands. Focusing on the ideals of freedom of religion, freedom of access, and freedom of speech, the constitution of the newly created Republic of the Free North American States (or the F-NAS) worked to learn from the lessons of both Colonial Great Britain and the United States.

A new period of freedom was established and an intellectual boom soon followed, leading to the advent of many new modern technologies, including semantic speech recognition, the photonic interconnect microcomputer, affordable and effective zero emission automobiles, and the highly popular Pencroix cola.”
- Webber et. al. “F-NAS History.” Lydon Press. 2039.

Charlie, now in a more manageable state went down to the police station and gave his deposition as to the course of events. But apparently the assailants had used some kind of knock out fluid to incapacitate him, so he had very few details on where they had been taken to or who had taken him.

“When you woke up, where where you?” James asked.

“I was in a dark room only a short distance from where you found me,” Charlie said, “They had me bound and gaged. Mommy wasn't in the room with me. I could hear them talking in a room further down, something about the Jung project.” Charlie paused, “Jonk, Jint, Ging something like that,”

“Jung project?”

Charlie paused in a moment of thought, “Ya. I didn't really get any of the details. All I know is that they really wanted mommy to talk about the 'research' and whether or not it could be used for their needs.”

“What needs where those Charlie?” James asked with a suspicious eye.

“I didn't hear. Something to do with their m.d.mail program.” Charlie responded innocently.

“Haven't heard of it.”

“Me neither, but you asked me what I heard, not what I knew about.”

The conversation continued on for several hours. No he didn't see where they took her. No, he did not get a chance to see his captor's faces. Yes, he had seen them kill her, they had used some kind of monofilamant wire to cut her up. They threw him on the street shortly afterwards, etc.

James spun around in his chair and got up. “We'll call you if we need anything else Charlie,” he said walking over to the door and opening it. “Oh... But Charlie?”

“Yes?” Charlie asked inquisitively.

“It would probably be best if you didn't take any out of town vacations.”

“'Don't leave town' Eh? Interesting thing to tell a twelve year-old isn't it?” Charlie said with a defiant arrogance.

“Ya, well, we're trying to cover all the bases. You're the only lead we got...”

“... And you can't rule me out. Ya, ya. I know.” Charlie said over his shoulder as he got up and walked though the open door.

James turned to Terrance and whispered, “Definitely a different kid than before all of this.”

“Ya, I've just been kind of assuming that it was part of how he's coping with things. Occasionally he acts like the preteen I expect him to be, sometimes he's uncharacteristically adult, and sometimes he's just flat out arrogant, like he has somewhere to be. I've been trying to get him to see a psychiatrist, but that just isn't working out.”

“Well, if he starts doing anything unusual could you tell me? I want to try to keep tabs on him. I'm worried and want to make sure he's okay.”

“Sure James.”

Charlie yelled out over the whispering, “Hey! Are we going home or is silent social hour? I promise I'll behave.”

“You watch that lip son.” Terrance scolded.

Charlie arrogant look held on for a few seconds before phasing out to a scolded look. “Sorry father.”

“Well, I'll see you tomorrow at work James.”

“See you Terrance. I'll call you if we figure anything out.”

“Thanks. Bye.” Terrance replied as he turned the corner past Mary and headed out the front door.

Over the next several weeks Terrance noticed that Charlie spent most of his time in the garden. Every time he'd come home, Charlie would come in all covered in dirt. “Just tending to the sprouts” he would say. The project had ended a week or two ago when school did. Despite his affliction, which had in the meantime improved tremendously, Charlie had somehow managed to pull straight A's. 'It's not unusual for Charlie,' Terrance thought to himself, but it puzzled him how Charlie could be such a wreck and still get A's.

Charlie's on again/off again behavior troubled Terrance. In general Charlie was actually better behaved, but every so often he would get that uppity attitude which would leave Terrance no choice but to scold him. More troubling than any of that was how few friends Charlie seemed to have. In the months since the incident, Charlie had basically stopped playing volley ball altogether and had become a recluse, preferring to spend all of his time in the house then out with people.

He had friends over, mind you, but nothing like he used to. Normally it was a vast entourage of various children, but now he only saw one or two people, and then only occasionally. Moreover, after the hacker hit the HR2, Charlie no longer played video games with him. “What if we get hacked again? What will happen?” 'I don't know' was the answer that always followed since how could Terrance know all the different things a hacker could do? He himself had worries about what the hackers could do, but he had resolved that even though the hackers COULD come back, it was pointless to fear the machine just for that. He could get sick but that was no excuse for not living, so why should that extend to the HR2?

But Charlie had issues, so he figured that with time, and a little but of coaching everything would be alright. But that latter bit proved more than Terrance could handle himself. Every time he would attempt to work with Charlie, Charlie would hide away in an emotional shell until the danger of having to talk too deeply about his mother's death passed. Then he'd be right back to his post accident self, lost in thought somewhere.

The summer had mostly passed when Terrance finally gave up. He had been waiting, hoping that Charlie would come to him and ask him for help and get over his fear of psychiatrists. But nearly 6 months had passed since the incident and Charlie wasn't going to ask, despite the fact that he obviously needed it.

So one day, Terrance placed a phone call to Dr. Jennifer Phillips. In his research, Lisa's name had come up repeatedly in the treatment of traumatic patients in his area. She was especially good with children, having dealt with dozens of rape victims, children of divorcees, and orphans.

Terrance opened the door and walked inside. “I'm Home!” he shouted. Charlie came in from the patio covered in dirt.

“Hey dad. The beans are almost ready for harvest.”

“Great!” he said, patting Charlie on the head. “Oh, and I want you to meet someone. Terrance stepped into the house and a stunning young lady stepped in filed in behind him. About 5'8” tall and with a well toned body and tanned skin, she could easily have competed in local beauty shows and done well. Her knee length skirt and professional looking blouse did little to hide her spectacular feminine figure. Her brunette hair was cropped neatly at her shoulders and shined in the bright sunlight.

Much to Terrance's surprise, despite having expected it, Charlie's reaction was that of bitter anger. His face was flush and he grit his teeth. “Who is this – Woman, that you've brought home?” Charlie growled.

“I'm Dr. Jennifer Phillips, Child Psychiatrist. You're Charlie then. I've heard you have some issues with psychiatrists, so I know this is hard, but I'd like to help you,” she said, kneeling down to look Charlie in the eyes.

What she saw though surprised her. The original expression of pure loathing had turned to that of complete fear. Charlie snapped at his father, “I TOLD YOU I HATE PSYCHIATRISTS! HOW DARE YOU BRING THIS WOMAN HERE! I HALF HALF A MIND TO JUST WALK RIGHT OUT OF HERE THIS INSTANT!”

“Easy Charlie,” Dr. Phillips said, gently placing a hand on his head, “I'm not going to hurt you.”

Charlie knocked her hand off his head and his glance shot back to Dr. Phillips. “Not going to hurt me indeed! I assure you young lady that there is nothing you could do to make things any better at all.” 

“Now Charlie, give this lady a chance,” Terrance said, hoping to calm him over, “I mean look at yourself. Ever since mommy died you've been like this. I know it hurts, but without help you'll never get better.”

Charlie's angered glance shot to Terrance, lingered for a while, and calmed slightly before returning sharply to Dr. Phillips. “I will work with you, but only to appease my father.”

“Thank you Charlie. Without your cooperation this will be very difficult, but I suspect with time, we will make some inroads into the matter and maybe you'll come to trust me,” Dr. Phillips said with a caring look.

Charlie looked over to Terrance for a moment before returning an icy gaze back to Dr. Phillips. “I doubt it,” he said, “but if it makes the man happy then so be it.”

Chapter 5: Dr. Phillips and the Lurking Shadow
“Despite the great advances in psychology during the 19th and 20th centuries, the field would see no time of greater advancement than the first half of the 21st century. The advent of the nanoantenna in 2017 and the later invention of EIBSS in 2019 opened the doors of the brain to researchers for a wide variety of animal subjects. The study of chimpanzees using this new technology lead to the first use of an external sleep paralysis inducer in 2020, and was followed by the complete mapping of all major functions in the brain of a chinchilla lanigera in 2023. Further experimentation showed that with the new EIBSS could be readily used to override the sensory data of a mammal's brain and effectively create a virtual world to work in.

However, more valuable to psychologists was the ability to detect mismapped or malfunctioning systems in the brain. The technique, pioneered in 2032 by professor Glenn Bykes at the University of Singapore, Brain Mapping Automated Pathology, refered to as B-MAPping, allowed the trained psychologist to use nanoantenna technology to understand the workings, and malfunctions of a living brain. Furthermore the technique provided a resolution approaching that of a microanalysis autopsy, without requiring the extraction of the brain of the subject.

Many theorize, however, that the operator's role in the diagnostic process is minimal at best, and several groups have lobbied for the release of the design documents to the public at large, but have failed due to concerns posed by lobbyists acting on the behalf of the profession of psychology stating that self diagnosis, without the consult of a doctor, is unwise and will lead to misdiagnosed patients.

Because of this closed information policy held by the manufacturers of the various B-MAP systems, this advancement has not seen any use in the F-NAS where only open source health systems are legal. This being a major shortfall for a population who has typically suffered the most from various ailments of the mind and brain.”
-Brian Willams. “Psychology Today.” Natural Science Publications. Mar 2042.

“I'll be right back. Let me get my equipment,” Dr. Phillips said before running out to her car. Charlie blushed slightly then suddenly looked away. Terrance noticed this and felt a small level of concern, but decided that the tips of his ears where also glowing and he had little room to speak. 

Dr. Phillips returned with a large bundle of fancy looking equipment. She sat down next to the HR2 and started plugging things together. In a few short minutes she had assembled her equipment and had all of the various bits bleeping and buzzing. “Charlie,” she asked, “which one of these helmets is the one you use?” she said, pointing at the two football shaped helmets on the floor.

Charlie looked at her with a glance of passing disgust, “the one with the flames sticker on it.” Dr. Phillips unplugged the helmet from the HR2 and plugged it into a similar port on her equipment.

“That thing uses the off the shelf SimSense helmets?” Terrance asked, giddily watching her put everything together.

“Yes. Despite being usable for video games, it is quintessential that the HR2 systems use medical grade equipment. So essentially, what you have here is the same thing I would have brought with me. Mine just costs me a whole bunch more since mine has little hooks for disposable liners and has a nifty little “For Medical Use” stamp on it.” She giggled slightly as she finished the last connection. “Okay Charlie, put on the helmet and let's get started.”

Charlie begrudgingly placed the helmet on his head and laid down on the comfy mat they had setup for the extended use of the HR2.

“Now just relax and close your eyes.” Charlie complied with the order and was soon in a device induced sleep paralysis. After several minutes, Charlie awoke, took off the helmet, and stretched. He looked rather calm and looked over to Dr. Phillips.

Dr. Phillips, however, had quite a different reaction. With Charlie waking up, Terrance looked over to see Dr. Phillips looking at her monitor with a deathly fear. Terrance, obviously quite unnerved by this asked, “What's the diagnosis doc?”

Dr. Phillips sat there for a moment and replied, “I don't know. The readings I'm getting from the scan are at the very best confusing. It will take me some time to parse through this. I'll need to consult some of my colleagues on this one. Would you mind if I called again tomorrow?”

“Sure. That okay with you Charlie?”

“Not really, but I don't suspect I have much of a choice.”

“Sure you have a choice!”

“Then no.”

“But don't you think that you should find out what she's learned?”

“Not really.”

“But Ch...”

“Like I said, you're not giving me a choice.” Charlie interrupted.

“You... No... I guess not. I'm not giving you a choice on this one.”

“Then it's settled,” Charlie said, “I'll see you tomorrow.” Charlie made his way to his room and closed his door.

“Well, then, um. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then.” Terrance said, watching Charlie walk out of sight.

“Ya,” Dr. Phillips said, staring off into the distance. She snapped back into reality, “Sorry, those scan results really have me puzzling. I think I'll be going.” She began walking out to her car when Terrance noticed her equipment laying on the floor.

“Mam! Your scanner!” Terrance shouted down the sidewalk.

“Oh... Ya, silly me.” she said. Terrance helped her pack up her stuff and she was off.

As promised, she returned the following day. “Welcome back.” Terrance greeted her as he opened the door. However, he was taken aback be the difference in her appearance. Her bright cheerful smile had been replaced with a more sleep deprived variant that came across more as a yawn when she talked than anything else. Her hair was uncombed and 

“Hiya,” she said walking through the entryway and taking a seat at the dining room table. “I need to talk with you guys.”

“Okay.” Terrance said and called to Charlie out in the garden to join them in the kitchen.

Having everyone gathered together Dr. Phillips began speaking.

“Okay first of all I'd like to apologize for my appearance. I was up rather late chatting with a technical support representative over at JamisTech trying to figure out what's wrong with the machine. All of the tests they had me run show that the machine is working, but clearly the results I'm getting are wrong. So the representitive suggested that your helmet might be broken, so I've brought over mine to test. But I would like to ask your a few questions first Charlie before we do another scan.”

“Shoot,” he replied with an indignant, arrogant look on his face. 

Dr. Phillips pulled out a pen an paper pad and looked at Charlie intensely.

“What is your favorite color.”

“Blue”

“What is your favorite thing to do?”

“Play volley ball.” Charlie flinched slightly saying this.

“Play volley ball huh? When was the last time you played volley ball”

“Um... I play it all the time at school.”

Terrance popped in, “That's not what your teachers are telling me. Your coach called about two weeks ago asking if you where going to join the team this year since you didn't show up for tryouts.”

Charlie paused a moment and responded, “I didn't show up to tryouts because I didn't know when they where holding them. I really haven't had a chance to talk with the guys on the team this summer.”

“Why haven't you?” Dr. Phillips inquired.

“Because between the work I've been doing at home and their busy schedules there just hasn't been any time where we could hang out.”

“Projects?” Dr. Phillips asked, scribbling something on her pad.

“Ya, like my garden project. I've been growing some beans in the garden.”

“What other projects are you working on?”

“Not much really.”

“Not exactly busy are you? I know that my petunias really only need to be looked at once a day or so. I guess your friends have jobs then?”

Terrance hadn't really thought too much about it. He was trained in the ways of the Animal Control specialist, so he was by no means a horticulturist. Lauren had always spent her time in the garden, so when Charlie spent so much time in the garden, he really hadn't thought two bits about it.

“Ya,” Charlie responded, “Ted works at a bakery all day and Ian is a life guard at the local recreation center.”

“Wow they do have busy schedules,” she said shooting a nasty glare over at Terrance who was moving to speak. “I'm guessing with all that attention those beens are growing very well.”

“Yes they are.” Charlie said, beaming.

“Would you show me?”

“Sure.” Charlie said, leading them into the late summer heat.

The garden was a small twelve foot by 6 foot chunk of dirt surrounded by the large fence surrounding the patio and a low divider wall that separated it from the rest of the concrete. The plants where carefully planted, each painstakingly arrange into rows. The rows where divided in half along the middle and the gaps between the rows where where the rows where on the opposing side.

“Wow, what a pretty garden.” Dr. Phillips remarked.

“Yes, they've grown well.”

“Why did you make the rows split that way in the middle? Doesn't that make irrigating them difficult?”

“Ya, but when I planted them I didn't realize that it would be a problem, and by the time I did, there wasn't anything I could do about it.”

“Ah,” Dr. Phillips said with a bit of a giggle, “Well, ready to re-run the scan?”

“Whatever suits ya,” Charlie said placing his hands behind his head and strolling into the house.

After the scan had finished, she looked at the screen and then over to Charlie, who finished taking off the more bulky scan helmet Dr. Phillips had provided.

“Well, I think we need to talk Charlie.”

“About?”

“Well, first of all, then scan data I got this time matches the scan data I got last time.”

“Seeing as you haven't said anything to me about the scans, am I to presume that they aren't exactly what you expected to see.”

“Well initially that was the case. Your scan came back as something I had never seen before.”

“And? Last time you where shocked, this time you're not.”

“You're right, I'm not. But I've learned something in the mean time. Charlie, do you know what Sibel's Touch is?”

“Sibel's Touch? No. I don't.”

“Sibel's Touch is a combination of a drug and some HR2 software that allows gamers to have a 'second mind' that works to allow them to cheat in certain video games. Using a protein emitting nanoantenna and the appropriate software, someone can cause the remapping of the brain by stimulating neuron interconnects that wouldn't normally be formed. By causing a second set of interface points, a person can have more than one 'player' in the game at the same time, and can use it to spy on the other team, giving them an unfair advantage.”

“Fucking bastards! This is what they're using the Jung project for?!” Charlie yelled out, standing up and slamming the table.

“Who Charlie?” Dr. Phillips said with a calm expression.

“Um. No one.” Charlie said sitting back down in his chair.

“Anyway,” Dr. Phillips continued, “there are several side effects that naturally come about with the introduction of a simultaneous consciousness living in the same brain. First, some amount of neural tissue has to be remapped from whatever purpose it was serving before to make up for the tissue needed to form the second consciousness. In children this is usually gleaned from the memory regions of the brain. Since they have experienced so little, there's little lost in the process.”

“Second there is a period where the two consciousnesses have to work out how they're going to work together. The better the software that builds it, the easier this is, since the amount of work required is directly dependent on the ability of the major consciousness to enslave the minor one. Good design of the new consciousness, which right now is haphazard at best, can make this process more reliable, and help to ensure that the major consciousness is ultimately in control.”

“And lastly, the process gives the person nearly infinate company, to the point of completely loosing privacy, so people who've used Sibel's Touch are prone to becoming recluse. Any of this sounding familiar Terrance.”

Terrance shot a desperate glance at Charlie, pleading for him to explain. Charlie looked at his dad and then calmly responded, “Well, that excuse is better than anything I've got. Let's pretend that I've used this Sibel's Touch procedure on myself and consequentially driven myself insane.”

“That excuse? Care to explain Charlie?”

“Not really. Besides the fact that you're not likely to believe me doctor, I don't think it overly wise or healthy for you to know the truth anyway.”

“Healthy? What makes you say that?”

“Experience. People who know the truth in this biz seem to have painfully short life expectancies.”

“The game exploit biz?” She inquired.

“No, though I hear that's true to some extent too. Now if you'll excuse me,” Charlie got up, “I think I'm going to be crazy in my room now.”

Chapter 6: Project Jung
“New in the lineup of things to frighten parents is the up and coming 'Sibel's Touch' craze. First encountered in the wild 4 months ago and now becoming extremely popular with upper middle class children, 'Sibel's Touch' is now a pandemic for first world countries. Created to help video game addicts and net junkies preform better than normally possible, Sibel's Touch has hit every corner of the country. From Scotland to Wales, Holyhead to London, young people everywhere are giving themselves an alter ego to help them get that little edge over their friends.

However, the new drug is known to cause a wide variety of mental illnesses and can lead to all sorts of various behavior changes. Sometimes even leading to the death of the recipient. Immersatech systems' public relations officer, Tiffany Brown, reported that as this story is being written, so is a patch for their widely popular Higher Reality 2 media console that will make the use of Sibel's touch impossible for online activities and hopefully stamp out the further spread of Sibel's Touch before any more children have to die.

When asked about the legality, Great Britain's minister of public health said that 'the distribution of the drug used in Sibel's Touch, HR 20-117, is, and has been illegal since it was deemed unethical and dangerous to the public to rewrite the brain by this agency three years ago. The insurgence of HR 20-117 into the wild as a street drug indicates the influence of organized manufacturers, which we suspect at present are operating overseas.'

Many parent fear that this new form of 'body alteration' will lead to the corruption of an entire generation of young people who are not mentally sound, though given the high cost of the drug and the procedure, it is this reporter's opinion that it will be a long time before the procedure leaves the realm of the wealthy.”
-Dick Clarkson, Freelance Reporter, London Tribune