She was not omnipresent, of course. Her awareness was limited to that which she could immediately perceive and those systems she had meticulously installed tracking and reporting code in. It would have undoubtedly been too overwhelming for a Slow One’s brain, receiving so much information simultaneously, but Amethyst was no longer hindered by that archaic piece of hardware. She imagined it’s motherboard had long ago been corrupted and ceased to function as a result of that rather potent virus. It was yet another reason why she was perfectly satisfied with no longer being of the Slow Ones. Their casings were weak and their software prone to corruption. Here, in The Net, she was strong, her code unbreakable, and her programs unmatched in their intricacy and effectiveness. The Slow Ones might be tempted to label her as a kind of ‘God’, but she knew better. There were other programs and viruses just as strong as she. The one thing they did not possess that gave her such a tremendous advantage... Amethyst was capable of non-linear processes, i.e. thoughts. It allowed her to anticipate, to correct, and to evaluate in a way that surpassed the limited and strict processes the rest of The Net adhered to.
She would need that advantage were she to succeed in her current task. While not impossible, the systems labeled as Westlake Industries stretched over a tremendously large section of The Net. While its outer reaches were significantly weakened by its far inferior systems, its core was something that The Net feared… if such a concept existed. The many times Amethyst had perused the code and programs of Westlake Industries’ core, she had been harshly rebuffed by firewalls and protective software that could only have been created by some of the best programmers the Slow Ones had to offer. Could she overcome them? Certainly, if given enough time. Nothing in The Net was beyond her capabilities. However, she had chosen not to. She had no interest in examining the code of a Slow One business that dealt with viruses and hardware upgrades that only applied to the non-digital.
That was, of course, before the message from WiseCrack had reached her. Considering how long it had been since she’d heard from the hacker, she was very surprised to see the change in his digital avatar that Amethyst was capable of perceiving. Of course, while he would only be viewing code on his screen, her concept of ‘vision’ was such that every code, every program, every system possessed its own, unique form. A memory from her time in the world of the Slow Ones equated it to the concept introduced by the ancient mpeg known as Tron, only its visuals barely scratched the surface of how The Net actually ‘looked’.
Which was why she was quite surprised to see an avatar of a young, female Slow One interlaced with WiseCrack’s code that was so uniquely his. A Slow One would undoubtedly think that this was simply someone pretending to be someone else. Amethyst however, knew better. A hacker, particularly one of WiseCrack’s caliber, possessed a code so intricate and unique to them that it was impossible to replicate by anyone… other than herself. It was not simply a matter of programming, it was the way in which this programming was formed, such as how deeply was each keystroke made or how quickly was the code written.
That, in and of itself, was what made the programmer’s avatar appear to her in such a unique way and why WiseCrack now presented himself as a female. He and every other Slow One hacker were unaware of this little detail when it came to writing code. The subtleties were simply impossible to be repeated and prevented any user from obfuscating their true self within The Net. Quite simply, WiseCrack was now female in a way so complete it was clear the Slow One’s simplistic technology when it came to altering gender was not responsible.
As time was clearly of the essence, based upon the way WiseCrack was communicating with her in almost a frantic manner, she elected not to question this change for the moment. There would be time enough for that inquiry at another cycle. Instead, she followed him… her… back to her home system before integrating herself within it.
At least, she tried to. Much to her surprise, Amethyst found herself severely limited to which aspects of the system she had access to, namely the camera optics, monitor display, and sound control only. The rest was guarded by one of the most impressive firewalls she’d ever come across. Not only that, but there were counter-intrusion measures that, honestly, would very likely eject her from the system entirely, if not destroy her very code. She hadn’t encountered a single system in The Net that was capable of doing that… at least until now.
Thankfully, it was clear that she would be safe from harm so long as she did not try to infiltrate deeper within this system. She would be able to communicate with WiseCrack utilizing the monitor to project her ‘eyes’, the optics to actually ‘see’ whom she was communicating with and the speakers and microphone system to ‘speak’ with them and ‘hear’ their responses.
In short order, WiseCrack explained what was happening and what she was asking of her. Normally, Amethyst would inform the hacker, rather tartly, to borrow a Slow One expression, that such matters were none of her concern. However, this was a different situation. Not only was WiseCrack one of the few Slow Ones she could actually apply the label ‘friend’ to, but she certainly owed her more than a few favors from when she’d assisted her in learning how to function within The Net just after the time of her inception.
Unfortunately, as was the case when communicating with any of the Slow Ones, it took quite a long time to have and then complete their communication. She had something of a tolerance for it, what with having begun her existence as part of the world of the Slow Ones. Still, it had been borderline frustrating waiting for WiseCrack to establish her reason for contact and then answer any queries she had for her at a speed ancient, forgotten systems could easily outpace.
In the end, what she was asking of Amethyst was actually quite simple, almost beneath her lauded abilities within The Net. She suspected that the hacker only asked so little because she valued their association and did not wish to seem to be taking advantage of it. In truth, she would have welcomed a far more difficult challenge as she was in need of some entertainment. Still, if this was all that required of her, she was more than content with assisting him.
Besides, she could always have a little fun while she was at it.
Tearmann Institute, Newfoundland, Hazel Dorm
“You didn’t need to come over right now,” Ashley said as she nervously puttered around in the kitchen.
“Oh it’s quite alright,” Rebecca assured her as she watched the girl take about ten times as long as normal to make two cups of tea. “You aren’t the first student who’s had an issue that simply couldn’t wait for a regular appointment. And no,” she said, anticipating the young woman’s embarrassment from the way her cheeks flamed, “it doesn’t mean you’re cracking up. Navigating your teenage years is difficult already. Throw in a fey component to that and you’ve got some issues to deal with that very few people can understand.”
Standing, Rebecca moved into the kitchen to gently lay her hands atop Ashley’s trembling ones before turning the young girl about to face her. “When you take all of that,” she continued gently, “and then include the trauma that you were forced to go through, it’s perfectly understandable that you’d have emotional troubles.”
“B-but it was different this time,” the girl stammered as she quickly moved the kettle from the stove when it started whistling. As she went about pouring the boiled water into two cups with tea bags, she continued in a voice that made it quite clear she was frightened. “Every time before when I had an… episode, I just wanted to either run and hide or get behind Aiden or Kitty.”
Ashley looked up from the two steaming cups and Rebecca clearly saw the horror contained within those beautiful, brilliantly green eyes. “I threatened one of my best friends!” she exclaimed in a choked whisper. “Worse, I… I actually meant it.”
“Do you really think you would have used your power to kill Kitty?” the therapist asked in a gentle, yet very careful tone of voice.
After a moment’s hesitation, Ashley’s hair gently bounced against her shoulders and
back as she nodded. “In that moment, if she’d said the wrong thing… yeah, I do.”
“And, as any normal, healthy person who isn’t a psychopath, that terrified you,” Rebecca surmised.
“Completely,” the redhead agreed as she handed the psychologist one of the cups before taking one for herself. “But not only because I threatened her and meant it,” she explained as the pair sat down at the kitchen table, “but because it’s such a complete one-eighty. I’m really scared that this is some kind of shift in my personality and that I’m going to start automatically leaping in that direction whenever I get stressed or scared.”
The psychologist nodded consideringly, taking a few moments to sip her tea and gather her thoughts instead of simply flat out saying that wasn’t possible. Even early into her study of the human mind, Rebecca had learned people were more than capable of actions that were the polar opposite of their core personalities. In Ashley’s case specifically, the physical and emotional trauma she suffered not only at the hands of Dr. Taylor back in San Francisco, but her foster parents two years prior, were factors that simply couldn’t be ignored. That she hadn’t already exhibited some form of mania similar to when she’d snapped at Kitty earlier was very impressive in and of itself. However, the girl’s fears that this could be the beginning of a dramatic personality shift were in no way unfounded. Ordinarily, Rebecca would have that very concern about Ashley herself. She’d seen it in other patients before, and this young lady was exhibiting all of the signs of the beginning of a mental break.
When she’d reached out with her gift, however, there was absolutely no sign of malice, anger, or even a hint that the gentle girl was prepared to do violence in any way. All throughout their conversation thus far, even when Ashley had explained to her what had happened, the only thing the redhead had experienced was fear, concern, and embarrassment at her own actions. In her experience, those that were on the verge of a psychological break or collapse were unable to gain control of their emotions in the slightest and were often a maelstrom of all combined. While Ashley’s were certainly turbulent, they weren’t out of her control, as evidenced by the phone call she’d received from her an hour ago asking for help. Those who were close to a break didn’t typically process that level of lucidity and forethought until after experiencing said break.
“First,” Rebecca said with a smile as she reached across the table to give the girl’s hand a squeeze, “I feel quite confident in saying that you are not about to turn into some kind of violent rage monster like Aiden.”
“Aiden’s not…” she began to protest vehemently.
“I don’t mean normally,” the psychologist confirmed. “I mean when she becomes so enraged she shifts into what she calls her ‘rage form’: out of control, wanting to kill anything around her that she doesn’t recognize as pack, and filled with nothing but primal rage and fury.”
“Well, yeah,” Ashley said, though Rebecca suspected she would have rather said ‘well, duh’. “I love Aiden, but I know that kind of thing simply isn’t in me. The only time I used my power to hurt someone was… well, you know,” she finished in a quiet voice filled with memories of a living nightmare.
“Exactly my point,” Rebecca pointed out after taking a sip from her tea. “Despite the fact that you’ve been a girl for less than a year, by your own account your personality has remained constant both before and after your Awakening. Yes, it’s shifted to affect a feminine outlook and manner as opposed to a masculine one, but the whole of who you are hasn’t changed. That includes any predilection towards violence, which is next to zero by the way,” she pointed out.
“But what happened with Kitty…”
“Is you growing, evolving, and becoming more confident in yourself,” the psychologist concluded. “Do you want to be careful so you’re not snapping at or threatening anyone who deliberately or inadvertently pushes your buttons? Absolutely. Should you continue to be assertive and allow your self-confidence to grow? I’d be worried if you didn’t.”
“Because there’s a difference between being assertive and just going off on anyone that says something I don’t like,” the girl concluded with a nod.
“What I think happened with you and Kitty,” Rebecca went on, “was growth and natural progression as opposed to a dramatic shift of personality. Human beings aren’t psychologically built to be punching bags,” she explained with a wan smile. “We have our limits when it comes to treatment like that. Even the most passive, depressed, or abused person can’t simply take it forever. It’s why you hear about wives finally snapping and shooting their husbands who had been beating them or raping them for years. No,” she said as Ashley opened her mouth, “I’m not saying you’re going to snap and kill someone. I was only using that as one example. The fact is, experience is both the hardest lesson and the greatest teacher any of us can ever have. It shows you what your limits are and what can’t hold you back.”
“But,” she said pointedly, “you can’t learn those lessons without screwing up more than a few times. I know you’re the type of person who doesn’t want to hurt anyone, ever,” the psychologist said with a gentle smile, “and that’s something to be applauded. But you can’t allow yourself to constantly be a victim just to hold up those principles. I hear you’re looking to learn Aikido, yes? Have you talked with Gunny yet?” she asked after Ashley had nodded her confirmation.
“Not yet,” the girl admitted, “Kitty said she would talk to him for me.”
“Why don’t I take care of that,” Rebecca offered. “That way we can set up a lesson schedule that won’t interfere with your studies or take up all of your free time either.”
“That would be great,” Ashley said with a relieved sigh, “thank you so much.”
“My pleasure,” the therapist told her honestly before taking a sip from her tea. “Now, why don’t you tell me about this little boy who turned the kitten into a tigress.”
Residence of Harold Westlake, Nazareth, Pennsylvania
It was surprisingly easy for Harold Westlake to essentially ignore the warm, cuddly, lusciously naked curves of the woman pressed tightly against his side. Even as her breasts pillowed against his chest and side and her lips pressed softly with just a hint of nibbling to the side of his neck, the businessman was easily able to keep his mind focused on business. Even as the wanton, sexual creature whispered darkly delicious nothings in his ear, promises of the pleasures she could bring, Westlake didn’t even hear them as he worked out what his next plan of attack should be regarding his fledgling campaign.
Fledgling, ha! Despite the fact that it had only been in operation for a week, the ‘Westlake for President’ movement had rolled across the states like a rampaging tidal wave. Already, there was talk on practically every news channel that said how Harold Westlake possessed the kind of smarts, business savvy, and decorum that none of the other candidates for the Republican Party could even hope to possess. Even that moron from New York who had taken the race by storm through insults and rhetoric was showing signs that he would be going down in flames very soon. The first rally Westlake had held in Philadelphia had easily taken care of that fool by telling those in attendance that he knew the people of America were far too smart to be fooled by childish insults and making threats against whole races for the crimes of a few.
Of course, that would invariably lead to the question regarding his anti-fey position, to which he easily headed off at the pass by stating he was not seeking the extermination of all fey. Instead, he was looking at more comprehensive laws aimed specifically at fey so as to ensure that any individuals that presented a danger to the public by both ability and intention would be secured from the populace. After all, what was so wrong with asking fey to submit themselves to a psychological evaluation every six months if it meant keeping the country safe?
Of course, none of those simpletons that comprised the bulk of the American population would know that those ‘evaluations’ would serve to systematically remove more and more f
ey from society every year. They wouldn’t be eliminated, of course. That would be a rather foolish waste of resources. No, they would be better served utilizing their abilities where they would prove to be the most valuable. They would be divided up by their individual skills and abilities and placed, hiddenly of course, where they would be most valuable.
With the exception of the healers. After all, what better commodity could one possess than to be able to heal any illness, disease, or injury known to man. With a veritable stable of healing fey, he would have far more control of the country’s wealthiest than any kind of tax break Congress could devise. What billionaire wouldn’t pay millions to have his cancer healed or her dementia taken away, all pain free? Not only would he have the nation and even the world’s most influential individuals under his thumb, but he would be adding to his fortune as well. All thanks to the ground-breaking efforts of the late Keith Blake.
You certainly are a devious one Harold.
Bringing his focus back to the immediate, the businessman frowned at the rather impressively-sized mirror adorning the far wall of his bedroom. It was obviously larger than he needed, and the gold filigree around the edges was clearly ostentatious, but what was the point of being obscenely rich if he didn’t spend it on whatever he wanted?
Of course, the one thing that hadn’t come with the mirror was the pair of glowing, blood-red eyes currently peering out of the glass surface directly at him over a perfect smile grinning wickedly and gleaming crimson in a way no cosmetics or surgery could ever hope to achieve.
Don’t worry, the haunting echo of a voice assured him in a way that provoked a number of carnal delights in his head, you can speak freely. I’ve ensured your little toy is asleep.
Marking Territory: An Awakened Novel (The Rising Storm Book 1) Page 15