When your stars are baked And your rivers fly Do you ever believe you were stuck in the Sky When your castle breaks And your feet are dry Do you ever believe you were stuck in the Sky Do you believe When you're high That your life is Dry Don't you ever get stuck in the sky Don't you ever get stuck in the sky Don't ever get stuck in the sky, When you're high "Peephole", by System of a Down [0] The sound of groaning metal filled the silence around the Rascombe building. This was shortly followed by a thunderous *clunk* as the door of a massive safe fell to the ground. The faint whirring of the Antikythera Mechanism could be heard faintly; the dozens of odd devices also occupying the safe muffled the noise. In the darkness, two small, pale hands gripped the Mechanism and drew it out. All without making a sound. Except for the groan of the metal and the thunderous clunk, that is. [0] "Mr. President?" R.E.D. Ink said quietly, stepping into the Oval Office. A thick sheaf of important-looking papers shook in his quaking hands. "Yes, Ink?" Patsy said. Behind him, Jacques adjusted something on his machine. This caused the live-feed video camera in Ink's tie to activate, as well as all twenty-three bugs in the Office. "Well," R.E.D. Ink began. "I have good news and bad news." Patsy scowled and pulled a bottle of Merlot from a drawer and popped the cork. "Bad news first, Ink." "Where'd you get the-" "Jacques gave it to me!" Patsy grunted, glaring. "Go on, tell me what's happened now!" "First off, we've lost all contact with the Mole. The last report the crew sent us was when the Jaws of Death were deployed. After that, nothing." In the background, Jacques made an Internet connection to the French government. "Wonderful," Patsy sighed. "What's the good-" "Uhmmm..." Ink muttered. "Yes?" "I'm not done with the bad news." He cleared his throat. "We've also discovered a new way into New Haven. If you look here-" he unfolded a massive map, laid it on the President's desk, and pointed. "-the red circle is the barrier, and the blue right there is the docks. See that? There's about fifty feet of water on the inside, which means..." "We can invade by sea!" the President cried, grinning triumphantly. "What's so bad about that?" Ink shuffled his papers. He handed over an underwater picture of a very big, very scaly, and very hungry-looking fish-thing. "The underwater exploration team who discovered this opening relayed this to the surface-" Ink said. "And?" Patsy growled. "-just before the fish-thing ate their vessel," Ink finished. "Oh." Then it dawned on the man. "Oh fuck," he said. His voice was devoid of emotion, the way someone in shock talks. "That means they're escaping. Into the open seas. And they've already been doing it for who knows how long." R.E.D. Ink nodded. "Yep." "We're screwed." "Yep." The President crumpled in his seat. He took a long look at his bottle of Merlot, then drew a bigger, wider bottle of Vodka from his desk drawer and began to chug. "Bring it on," he slurred. ===================================== New Haven ------------------------------------- the restitching of the fabric of time Scene 1-11: Technomancy for the Ages by Matt "Zeroin" Maldonado ------------------------------------- Marty T. Ideawasgood clutched his massive briefcase fearfully as he scrambled across the rubble of a once-magnificent skyscraper, now burned and smoking. When he realized he could no longer hear the proto-hominids and their victims, he sighed happily and headed into the destitute building. Inside, he took no note of any of the charred bodies covering the floor. He picked out a fairly flat block of stone and set his briefcase on it, unconsciously unlocking it as he kneeled on the floor. Marty took a out three green blocks, and unfolded each in the same way you unfold a map. Now he had nine squares, and connected them. The surface of the thing was covered in LEDs, transistors, capacitors, resistors, chips and those little line thingies that serve as wires. It was a massive circuit board, in fact, though an unusual one, because all the green on the board was overshadowed by the clear red lines of a pentagram, dominating the board. After reassuring himself that all the connections were in place, Marty drew several iron spheres from his jacket pockets and placed them all on the floor by the board. He took one and set it in the exact center of the pentagram. He hooked a large battery to the end of the board and activated it. While he was waiting, Marty contemplated on his own genius. The iron spheres had a ruby pentagram lodged in the center, a reverse of the ruby spheres that gave his Jaws of Death life. In fact, the iron in both were the same: it was a simple thing to have a bit of one thing trade places with the bit from another thing. In this way, he could control the Jaws by remote, even if it *did* leave him with only a few commands. *BEEP* *That's one down*, Marty thought. [0] A mere twenty feet from Kramer's shop, a Jaws of Death froze in mid-roar. It stood there, puzzled, then turned on one thick heel and dashed away. [0] "Well," Kramer said with a small smile. "We sure showed him, didn't we, Ned?" The greater of the lesser demons gave his companion a pained look. "You're holding a butter knife, Kramer. I doubt it was you that scared him off." Kramer 'hmpf'ed and went back into his shop. Ned rolled his eyes and sipped his tea. "Humans." [0] Marty put the first sphere back in his pocket, simultaneously replacing it with the next. [0] With both Charlie and Karen distracted, Johnny decided things had gone far enough. In seconds he had his arm wrapped around Karen's neck and a Magnum pointed at her head. "We're going!" He yelled. "Don't follow us, or I'll blow her fuckin' brains out!" he screamed, trying not to let just how very little he wanted to do that. Charlie, who had taken the orb from Johnny shortly after catching up to him, shook his head. "Why do you want her, anyway?" "*Don't* ask questions! You're better off not knowing!" "Why?" Charlie asked, stepping closer. Desperate, Johnny decided to threaten again. "I'll shoot her!" Karen rolled her eyes. "Oh, *please*." She slid her leg back and hooked it behind Johnny's ankle. "You are *such* an idiot." "What?" Johnny said, just before Karen's head slammed back into his chin. He let go of her neck, giving his hostage all the opportunity she needed to pull her leg forward, knocking him onto his back. "Ouch," Johnny whimpered. Karen kicked his side, turning him onto his stomach, and cuffed him. Charlie applauded. The Jaws of Death that was eyeing them from up the street roared. Charlie looked up, held a single finger to his lips, and said: "Shh! This is a noise-pollution area! Do you want to be fined?" Karen fought the urge to bash her brother's head in and took Johnny's gun. [0] *BEEP* "Next," Marty said jovially. [0] Before Karen could even get the monster into her sights, it was gone. "Huh," she said, then looked down at the gun. "Hey! The safety was never off!" She glared at the now-unconscious Johnny. "Idiot." "What shall we do with him?" Charlie asked as he pocketed the false soul. "Surely we can't leave him here?" "Why not?" Karen barked. That's what she'd *wanted* to do. "Because Harlukia or Jebdorn or whomever might find him and start asking questions. I don't think he'd mind spilling the beans on us." Karen glared at her brother, but saw his point. "Maybe Kramer can help us." Charlie nodded. "Let's go back." He hefted Johnny onto one shoulder. "I wonder why he did that?" "I'm more concerned about who the hell he *is*," Karen muttered. [0] Sarge watched as the strange, mutated human-like thingies formed a growling, slurping, warbling circle around him. He reloaded his gun; he wasn't about to die with the knowledge that he'd left *unused* bullets on his corpse. That was a waste of ammo, and against all his morals. With only a single floodlight, bolted onto the Mole, for light, Sarge could only barely make out the oddest aspect of the proto- hominids: a mass of throbbing blue-green ooze that covered the top of each and every one of their heads. Sarge had only a few seconds to wonder what the hell that goo was before he was sliced in half by a scythe-like bladed arm. The circle of proto-hominids stared at the Mole. The ooze glowed bright green, then rolled off the creatures onto the ground. Like thick topaz snakes they slid across the rock. The first blob of goo met the Mole. It slithered around on the metal surface, then slid into the machine. The rest of the ooze followed suit. After a few seconds, the Mole began to glow a soft green. And then it began to contort wildly. Hi-ho. [0] "Hold on, hold on!" Father Edgewood panted, collapsing on the steps of a nearby house. "Let me rest for a few...hours." "I agree entirely," gasped Father Bruno, plopping down beside his colleague. "Don't you think so, Archbishop?" Silence. "Archbishop?" Bruno repeated, looking around. "Alberto?" Additional silence. He turned to Edgewood. "Where's the Archbishop?" Edgewood coughed. "How am I supposed to know? Am I my Archbishop's keeper?" Before Bruno could reply, another Jaws of Death roared. "Maybe *that's* where he went," Edgewood muttered before zooming away down the street, Bruno not far behind. The Jaws of Death would've given chase, but a higher power told it not to bother, and instead return to its master. [0] "Three down," Marty said, reading a copy of Spider Robinson's *The Callahan Chronicles*. "Three more to go...Oh, poor Pyotr!" [0] The question of where Alberto Luccini was presently located was a tricky one, indeed. Physically, you could say he was walking up the road to Coltrane Park, with a dozen Geistenkinder as an escort. Mentally, however, the man was riding a fluorescent octarine llama on the rings of Saturn, singing "The Song That Never Ends" while pumping himself full of morphine. As the Geistenkinder and the Archbishop walked through the park, all the mutated plants and animals that had once ruled it with iron vines and claws began to fade from green to yellow to smoking brown. At which point they were a sort of brown sludge. The Geistenkinder, normally as childish as their namesake and more preoccupied with games than old people were about their grandkids and "When I Was Your Age," were silent. Not a grin was to be seen in the eerie group. "Come with us, Father," said the leader, a thin, pale boy with coal-black hair. He wore a billowy white shirt and black pants. His self-given name was Rache. In his hands was the Antikythera Mechanism. [0] A Jaws of Death duo paused, confused, in the middle of mauling a giant mongoose. The Master was calling...and they must answer. [0] Marty took a bite of his sandwich and set another two spheres aside. "Last, but not least..." he said, reaching for the final sphere. Grope. Grope. "Where is it?" Marty muttered, not bothering to look. Grope. Grope. Gropegropegropegropegropegropegrope. "Maybe I left it in my jacket," he said, putting down the sandwich and thrusting both hands into different pockets. There was a fist-sized hole in his inner jacket pocket. *Shit*. "I've lost one," Marty said hollowly. [0] A very angry, very soggy and *very* smelly Harlukia staggered out of the hospital. His own smell and the hives were making the vampire weak and dizzy. Harlukia did not *like* being weak and dizzy. *THMP* Harlukia blinked, the groaned. It was with great disdain that he discovered himself lying flat on his back, a bump rising on the back of his head, and blood gushing from his tongue. For a second, he seriously considered cannibalism. Grumbling something unintelligible, he sat up, and looked around. There, in front of him, was the sixth iron sphere. Now, an ordinary person would say "Oh, look. A nice, gleaming, polished iron ball. I think I'll put it up on my mantle." Harlukia, being a vampire and, thus, very familiar with magic, could see the Aura of the Occult, a shifting red cloud, floating around the sphere. The bump and his own sickness forgotten, Harlukia took the sphere and exerted his masterful, vampiric will upon it. And as he watched, a deep purple Aura joined the red one. [0] When the final Jaws of Death woke up, it was not pleased to find itself lying in a pool of--of--of *filth*, burned like that piece of chicken you forgot to take off the grill, and missing all it's spider- like arms. But it had no time for complaining; the New Master was calling. [0] Sapphia growled with bloodthirsty intent as she came upon the spot where Alicia and Micheal Lime of the Fortean Times had been. She smelled charred meat, but she could tell, by the trail of ash that stained the sidewalk, that whoever had been there was gone now. "Where *IS* that daughter of Satan and a salamander?!" She bellowed, frightening off some of the deadly, poisonous, rotting pigeons that had been thinking of using Sapphia as a firing range, of sorts. As soon as the angry consort had finished her sentence, a mass of hair and teeth launched itself from a nearby building. It landed five feet from Sapphia, and snarled. Sapphia turned to look at the newcomer, and smiled. "Hey there, handsome," she purred. [0] Jebdorn blinked. Was this angelic beauty complimenting him? Was his charm, his beauty, his Adonis-like physique, was it all finally being recognized? "H-hello," he stuttered, cursing himself on the inside for sounding so weak. "You know," Sapphia said, stepping closer to the furry fiend. "My...boyfriend...just dumped me. How'd you like to pick me up?" Jebdorn grinned behind his bushy beard and did just that. [0] Back in Coltrane Park, the Geistenkinder and Archbishop Luccini stood by the statue of city founder, Stephen Carroll. Alberto Luccini began to mutter in Latin. "Now," said Rache. "We, the Sacrifices, shall enact our revenge upon the dread family Carroll." He held one white fist in the air, and grinned. Evilly. His fellow Geistenkinder nodded solemnly. "For four decades, we have waited for the right time," the child continued. "The *exact* time to ruin the plans of those fools, the Carrolls." Alberto Luccini continued to mutter in Latin. Rache looked far too serious for someone of his apparent age. "They wanted to connect the World of the Living with the World of the Dead. They wanted the equilibrium set up by the Makers to fall into pieces. They wanted the *Makers themselves* to bow to their stupidity!" Scowls fluttered among the faces of the Geistenkinder. "Now WE, the Spirit Children, shall use the Mechanism of the Unmaker, Antikythera, to call upon those who will destroy the foolish Humans, who poison their once-beautiful planet by simply *existing*." His speech done, Rache stepped behind the statue. The Archbishop took his place in front of it. Rache glanced down at the back of the pedestal on which the statue stood. The Mechanism rested inside, the clock hands spinning wildly. It strobed, changing from glowing red to shining gold to gleaming silver, over and over again. All twelve of the Remaining Geistenkinder spread out around the statue in an even circle. They dropped the façade of normality, the color in their bodies replaced with translucent blue. Their feet left the ground. As one they began to spin, counterclockwise, a ghastly ring of lost souls. Rache began to utter the Call of the Damned, speaking simultaneously with Luccini. As they did so, their eyes began to glow blue. The circle of spirits spun faster and faster, soon becoming a solid ring of blue ether. Beneath the ring, Roman numerals, numbering from one to twelve, appeared on the ground. With the Call of the Damned completed, Rache and the Archbishop faded from existence, and the eyes of the statue burst into flames. Hi-ho. [0] "What the *hell* are they doing over there?" Alicia whispered. She and Michael Lime were hiding behind a pile of rubble, watching the goings-on in the Park. "Michael? *Michael*, are you even *listening* to me?" "Wha? Oh, sorry. I was working," Michael said vaguely. He continued scribbling in his notepad. "Whatever." Alicia looked back, and paled. "Are you watching this?" "Damn straight I am," Michael said with a grin. He'd found a way around his Writer's Block! [0] The statue blinked, and then remembered who it was. It raised one stony arm into the air and bellowed in voice like the scraping of gravel. "Spirits from beyond our earthly skies!" Statue-Rache cried, his fist glowing. "NOW IS YOUR TIME!!!" [0] At the top of the protective bubble, a hole thirty-feet wide opened up, releasing a blast of red and gold light into the sky. It shot up and up, into the bowels of space. Once again, Hi-ho. [0] Back in the tunnels, the ooze-less shambling proto-hominids began the journey back to the surface. They were heading *away* from New Haven. [0] Author's Notes: Ah...it feels good to be doing something like this again. One of these days, I'll get around to finishing that one story of mine... But I digress: This was fun. I went back and read ALL the previous chapters, just to look for some new plot points or contrived thingamabobs I could use. Lo and behold, in the first chapter, within the first hundred words, they mention a dock. Everyone seems to have forgotten about it, so I made use of it. Also, the Geistenkinder have been ignored for a few chapters, so I brought them back. And the priests. And I turned Johnny into a rat fink, too. Much thanks to Mark Poa for pre-reading and pointing out that I needed a lesson in formatting. Thanks to black dub, for his advice and thoughts. Additional thanks to Jae-Chan, the nicest pre-reader ever! Anyway, black dub is up next, God bless him. Hope he has fun with what I've done! See? Your friends all signed up for New Haven; why don't you? EVERYONE does it...c'mon... Okay, so peer pressure doesn't work so well through text. It was worth a shot, right? Right? You too, man. Don't use that kind of language with me. Matt "Zeroin" Maldonado, or "He Who Must Not Be Flamed".