Martha stood inside the bubble
Outside was a fractal pattern of her memories.
There were new edges.
They filled out the parts of her that were empty before.
They were sharp, jagged and distorted
The bubble flew up
Into a more solid section of this fractal self.
This is where she entered, where she fell through.
And what had been a hole, a fractal of herself, was now a tunnel passage.
Still a fractal but now the opening was to the side
Martha Crisp
'This bubble must mess with gravity.'
gravity
In front of them was a cube that reflected no light
Martha saw that growing light and met it with a growing sense of worry
Martha Crisp
'Why would Rossin want you dead?'
The more she thought about it, the more she didn't think that was the case.
He was in her, after all, her death would have meant his.
Thoughts of the scorpion and the frog crossing a river danced fleetingly in her mind
The bubble approached the cube
Darkness encompassed all around them
The interior lights in the bubble flipped on
Which were along the metal rings at the perimeter of the bubble.
As long as they went straight, Martha was sure, they would reach that hallway
Martha Crisp
'In any case, we have Flanagan here -'
Martha heard a rhythmic thumping behind her
She turned to Flanagan
Flanagan wasn't moving
Sonny was pumping his chest
Martha Crisp
'Well fuck!'
Sonny looked up at the captain
Lana Alacira
"Don't worry, he probably got out..."
Flanagan's body melted into the hardwood floor of the bubble
It crumpled to dust, and glittered into non-existence
Gerald Whitewater
"See, that's a good sign, actually."
Lana Alacira
"Gerald. ahead."
Alacira had her hand out
Gerald lowered a lever; the bubble slowed
Martha Crisp
"There it is."
Martha saw it - as a lone concept - a hallway in the darkness.
Around it could have been anything.
So Gerald piloted the bubble to be right next to it
He put it into park
Lana Alacira
"Everyone out."
They flooded out, Alacira and Martha in front.
Martha led the way, extending her hand to find the handle
She waited until all were outside the bubble
Martha Crisp
"Close that interior door."
Wilbert closed the door leading to the link
It was cramped, but the six of them fit inside the dark hallway.
The spiders had room on the ceiling.
Not that Martha could see any of them.
She waited until she was sure it was closed
Then she opened the door.
She flipped a switch at the side
A faint buzzing died.
A brass bridge met them, followed by wooden doors, and a hallway made of lead
They crossed it, and after their passage Martha flipped another switch
A faint buzzing came to life behind them
Martha closed the door
Martha Crisp
"It's a long way up."
She was not looking forward to the climb.
As they started up the stairs they heard chittering behind them.
Sonny with her spiders had stayed back.
A short while later Martha heard shouting from behind her
Gerald Whitewater
"Gangway!"
Sonny was in a hammock of silk.
Which both spiders were carrying by its ends.
From the ceiling they which were racing up.
It was a spider makeshift gondola lift
Sonny made a few more chitters as she passed by Martha
Rossin
'She is asking if you want a ride as well.'
Rossin was besides her
Martha Crisp
'Rossin knows how to speak spider, sure.'
Martha shuddered
Martha Crisp
'Does that mean I know spider, deep down.'
Gerald Whitewater
"They'll be back for us - one at a time."
Martha took the last one.
She was hesitant about riding the spider lift.
She used that to cover her hesitancy to speak to Rossin.
She wrote on the console to her right
"Flanagan is dead."
Rossin
'Well and truly, or is he going to come back?'
Gerald was second to last to go up
"Probably the latter..."
Martha Crisp
"Was Wilbert born here?"
Gerald Whitewater
"What?
No.
He is from a dream."
Martha Crisp
"And he's in the real world now."
Gerald Whitewater
"Martha, life is but a dream, and don't think about it too hard, such thoughts are dangerous."
Martha Crisp
"Dangerous?"
Gerald sat down in the web
Gerald Whitewater
"I'll tell you up there."
Rossin
'Martha, is something wrong?'
Rossin paced in front of her
She was the last one below, and the spiders well out of earshot
Martha Crisp
"That much Algera would have killed me."
Martha nodded upstairs
Martha Crisp
"Captain Alacira up there."
Rossin
'You have a rather large hole in you.
Made bigger by that thing in your head...
And me isolating of that thing in your head.
You were, are, an empty bucket.
Most of your person has been been eaten by that thing already.
A sponge, you would have been fine.'
Martha Crisp
'Flanagan was not fine...'
The spiders came for her
'Flanagan had about 1/8 billionth of the stored Algera - and he died'
Rossin grew quite
Martha Crisp
'1/8 billionth: as in...'
"Everyone."
Rossin
'And Flanagan died?'
Sitting in the web hammock, Martha saw Rossin keeping pace with her.
He didn't have legs - he just floated there besides her, racing up
Rossin
'Wait, you mean...
Everyone?
As in, you gave it to everyone?'
Martha nodded
Rossin considered
He slowly nodded too
A short time later they were in Flanagan's study
Alacira ruffled though Flanagan's desk
Gerald was just across the room, inspecting the decanter on the table
Pouring himself some brandy, Gerald sat down
The leather in the chair creaked
Gerald Whitewater
"Thoughts themselves can be dangerous.
They have a shape, you see.
Some shapes can have an edge, the more you look at it - the sharper it gets.
A fact leads to a counter-fact, leads to a counter fact.
An infinite fractal, that burns into your identity.
It grows sharper the more you think about it, and it cuts deep between things."
Wilbert
"Does he have a date on that desk?"
Lana Alacira
"February 18."
Wilbert snapped his fingers
It sounded wet.
He had stuffed his hands into his pockets before Martha had a chance to see
Martha Crisp
'Not halloween.'
Martha suppressed a smile, and realized, that was probably the only time he could easily go out in pubic.
Without being killed or becoming famous, that is
Martha Crisp
'No, wait...'
['They could just do that tattoo brand thing Felix had',
'he could wear a hat' => 360 view of a namshub,
]
Martha Crisp
'A hat might blow off, and a branding, or tattoo is a bit much, but still: something.'
Rossin
'We used helmets, for people like him.'
"People like him?"
Lana Alacira
"I don't see any notes about Al-tok."
Gerald Whitewater
"Then what's the plan?"
Lana Alacira
"We wait it out, algera has a tendency to pool.
When it is safely soaked back into a few people, we retrieve the ship."
Alacira walked to the coffee table and couch and sat down
Lana Alacira
"But I don't know how long that will be, so Flanagan has some guests for a time."
Gerald poured her a drink
%%%%
Robert Glass of the tok refocused the microscope
Scientists were in a row: repeating a chemical process.
Around Robert were other shells like itself.
The problem with being a smaller part of a bigger thing is the inability to know that larger thing.
But being so interconnected you knew a lot more otherwise.
Al-tok wanted to grow: more it did not want to abide any limits.
There were things as, or stronger than Al-tok, but bound from interfering.
Al-tok took advantage of this hesitation
And the moment it grew strong enough to strike....
The shell that was Robert Glass was in it's sister's lab.
It, along with more husks: working on the serum.
All Al-tok, and yet, none were exactly Al-tok, more siblings
Robert Glass of the Tok
'No, more like leaves on a tree.'
Soaking in attention - growing the trunk
Robert Glass of the Tok stepped away from the microscope
A brethren took its place.
It felt as though it should be able to place it.
The thorn in their side
Robert Glass of the tok walked toward the exit
A needle in the haystack of themselves.
The problem was it had the view of one of the straws.
Each of them had that view.
And none of them could find it
A centrifuge spun down
A delight to all their ears.
If one of them could find that needle while it was still...
Robert of the tok froze
They all did.
It was gone.
No more algera to drain: that was everything.
That stabbing pain faded to a dull memory
Robert Glass of the Tok
'Good luck finding it now.'
What little pain there was to guide them to that needle was practically gone.
This tok, what it was, what it and its siblings made up, kept still a sea of anger.
A hurricane bottled by an impenetrable calm
Robert Glass of the Tok
'It does not matter.'
It reflected on the progress it was making, a new batch was ready
Robert Glass of the Tok
'We can find more algera.'
It was hindered, delayed, but critically not stopped.
It would find enough Algera again to call the walker
Robert Glass of the Tok carried a tray of syringes upstairs
Robert was a face for Al-tok.
An interface for the public.
They all had their roles, like bees, ants, or societies - they all had tasks.
Robert was to recruit
Robert Glass of the Tok
'A public currently asleep...'
They could just invade, take over, but no
Robert took the syringe
That would be over too soon
Robert Glass of the Tok
'More than that.'
Beyond the serum Al-tok needed a hole, a space to grow in
Robert walked out the door
It was time to go for a stroll.
Robert had the pick of the litter.
It was raining, and most of the car fires had been put out.
The air smelt of a rich texture of ozone and smoke
Robert Glass of the Tok
'It was better to have the subject in the correct state of mind.'
Easier for Al-tok to get in that way, when it was invited
Robert Glass of the Tok
'Sleeping will do.'
At least sleeping wasn't active resistance
Robert froze
They were all awake.
People on the street, examining the wreckage of cars.
Searching for survivers.
But more than that:
Robert saw in the distance saw a new group of people approach the ones looking for survivers.
He saw one leader in that new group
The group descended upon those looking for survivers
It was over in a few moments: the searchers not even aware of what the stakes were
Robert Glass of the Tok
'They are using namshubs...'
It was one person, the leader - collecting a drone army.
Growing exponentially.
Al-tok understood at that moment where the algera had been placed
Robert Glass of the Tok
'Into all of them...'
Everyone was in their own world, and trying to force everyone else to join them.
But by pulling equally in all directions: commonalities appeared, ripples and echos of coherence.
Harmonizing waves in a sea of minds bound the desires of the outliers, often in persecution.
Robert of the tok turned and walked back inside
If that group was any indication, The algera would congeal onto few hosts again.
It would just take a little time.
But if it couldn't find that needle, it would not be able to hold the algera.
So Al-tok, all of them, searched, and waited.
There was a sense of urgency, of desperation, of winning at all costs.
So it gained ground how ever it could.
And it kept searching for that needle
%%%%
Flanagan was free.
From his physical body, from that old age.
It wasn't his first body, nor would it be his last.
He was looking for a new one.
Slim pickings
Flanagan
'With Martha in the link, that leaves.'
To his surprise he could not find Uri or Ozmind.
Uri would have been perfect
Flanagan
'He was hollowed out by Ozmind.'
He considered briefly the Relux, and dismissed that as a bad idea.
He conceded that any one of them would be stronger than him, and together: so much faster.
Felix
Flanagan
'Ah, where is Felix?'
Felix could be a good host, at least temporarily, Flanagan reasoned
Flanagan
'He is close by too.'
Flanagan was in the link.
It was blossoming anew.
A moment of awakening, new connections being made.
He found the connection he needed.
It was old: it was the scaring of his rooms into the mind of Felix.
A connection Felix would not be able to remove himself
Flanagan entered through a window
Into his mind, into his rooms, a version of them, at least
Flanagan grabbed a small remote from the side of entrance, then opened the door
The front door, from his perspective lead to a void with only a few doors.
He had the impression: once, this was filled
He pulled the door to Felix's mind to him and opened it
Felix's attention fell on the door
Flanagan strolled in
Felix Danabrus
'What are you doing in here?'
Flanagan pressed a button on the remote
It was full of prepared namshubs, isolating the mind, binding it to the back, overwriting controls
Flanagan
"Things went south in the link, I need a body for a bit."
Felix Danabrus
'Get another body!'
Soon Flanagan was in control, and Felix in the the back of the mind
Flanagan
"Slim pickings, I'm afraid..."
This was not without a struggle, Felix had implemented a deadman switch.
If Felix lost control of his body: it would go catatonic.
Flanagan riffled through Felix's memories.
And he found the implementation of the deadman switch
A moment later he disabled it.
Flanagan took in a lungful
It tasted and felt like steak
Flanagan gagged
Kent Barbado
"Oh come on, I just fixed that!"
Flanagan punched at his new chest
A few coughing hacks later the chunk of steak flew out.
He was on a bed, rolling down the street
Flanagan
'Where have you been?'
const brain_crawler = (person)=> SORT(LIST(
FILTER(MEMORIES(Person),Flanagan.lists.interesting_things)
),item.rating)
Kent Barbado
"You alright there?"
Flanagan in Felix Danabrus
"Fine, just fine."
They were deep inside the park.
Kent was watching all around
Flanagan in Felix Danabrus
"What's wrong?"
Kent Barbado
"We're taking a little detour through the park.
We have a bit of company around us."
Flanagan lean up
Around him just the park
Kent Barbado
"So, people are awake now, they seem to be able to control anyone around them."
Flanagan in Felix Danabrus
"Everyone?"
Kent nodded.
Flanagan gripped the side rails
The bed had bounced against a particularly large hole in the sidewalk.
Was that movement to the left?
Kent Barbado
"Some people wanted to help, another group..."
Kent stopped, watching the treeline in central park
Kent Barbado
"They took them over.
It was one asshole at the helm.
He wasn't the only group doing that."
Kent looked down at Flanagan
Kent Barbado
"You got any idea why they're doing that?"
Flanagan in Felix Danabrus
"The sooner we can get to Flanagan's the sooner he can explain."
Flanagan, in Felix's body, pointed towards his home