The rattling and clanking of machinery coughing to life suddenly interrupted her reverie. After a long sequence of grinding and clattering, an elevator rose into view and clanged to a stop as it reached a level with the platform. The doors opened slowly and a stooped form of a wizened old man shuffled out. He wore a heavy, monk-like hooded robe and leaned heavily on a staff of badly wrought iron. Head bowed against the wind, he took no notice of Ari until she stepped directly in his path. Upon seeing her, he raised his head slowly to look directly into her eyes with a steady, unflinching stare. His face was the color and texture of old parchment and crisscrossed with countless scars. The right eye, or what was left of it, was concealed beneath a large black patch. Wisps of white hair blew out from under his hood and played around his withered features like restless ghosts. Merely gazing into the eye of Old Praetorian was an effort for most and Ari quickly bowed her head and looked away. When the old man spoke his words were as slow and grating as his walk.

“It’s rather late for one so young to be out in the cold.”His voice was soft and coarse, but gentle and almost grandfatherly. “One should be at home and at rest, rather than outside braving the elements.”

“I could not sleep, sir, for my mind is troubled.”Ari chose to use the formal style of speaking appropriate for addressing an elder. Normally she would not bother with formalities for the sake of a street scavenger, but normally she wouldn’t be out looking for one in the middle of the night either.

“And you thought Old Praetorian could ease your trouble with his years of gathered wisdom?” The old man raised an eyebrow inquisitively, and Ari thought she saw a twinkle of amusement in the dark depths of his eye.

“Sir, I…”

“The formalities are unnecessary.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Ari actually had no idea why she wanted to see Old Praetorian. It had been more of an impulse, a compulsion she could not explain which had forced her rise from her bed, deactivate the Psychonomicon and come out into the freezing night to meet a mysterious old man to whom she had never actually spoken.

“You dress warmly, yet you shake more than is warranted by this cold. Perhaps it is something in your mind that chills your flesh?”

“One of my friends is dying.” Ari had not expected to mention this, and was surprised by her own words. Wraith wasn’t really a friend; she wasn’t even a real member of the circle. She was a pariah who had stumbled into the circle almost by accident. Ari had only spoken to her once.

“There was a fight then?” Praetorian was now genuinely interested. There had not been a fight—at least not a real one—reported for nearly a decade. There were the occasional small scuffles that were quickly dealt with by the Enforcers, but these rarely resulted in serious injury. In Ari’s nineteen years no one, at least not in Oceania, had ever been killed.No, Wraith had not been in a fight—that would’ve been unnerving enough. Her brain had simply shut down, plunging her into a coma. The medics had said it was a surprisingly common occurrence—they even had a fancy name for it—but Ari had never seen anything like it before. Old Praetorian was right; she was scared. But she could do was shake her head no.

“You are afraid of something, are you not?”

‘I don’t know,” Ari managed faintly. “It was just so sudden. She was alive and talking and laughing, and then she was lying there.” She paused. “I just don’t know. I suppose I’m afraid I might be next.”

“And you want Old Praetorian to tell you how to survive,” the old man said slowly. It was not a question. Ari nodded hesitantly.

Old Praetorian shook is head. “I’m not sure I can tell you anything you have not yet heard. I can tell you how to survive cold and hunger, radiation and fire, days in the wilderness with only a thermal shield and a rad-suit, nights in the depths of Cocytus at the furthest edge of the force dome. I can tell you how to survive plague and war and anarchy and even the Enforcers. But,” he said with emphasis, “I cannot tell you how to survive the things you now face.”

Ari stared at him helplessly.

“I have lived long, and can remember many things.But even I cannot remember the age before the Laws of Peace were passed and the deadly games began to be played.”Ari shuddered. She new about the Games—everyone did—but like everyone else she implacably denied that they actually happened. To think that it was happening to her circle was almost unthinkable. “Isn’t there anything you can do?” she blurted out, sudden terror erasing any pretense of formality. Praetorian sighed and started to shake his head, then paused.

“There is a man I once met,” he said reflectively, “a man of such strength as you or I could only dream, a man able to defend against any attack whether from word or sword. I know not if he still walks this earth, but if you would risk a journey to the Underworld, to Cocytus, there you may seek him who is called Abraxas. I know not where he calls his home, or even if he still breathes, but should you find him he may know the answers you seek. Should he refuse audience with you, tell him you were sent by Old Praetorian, for I have done him a good turn he would not so soon forget.” With that, the old man turned and shuffled away, leaving the poor girl more confused and frightened then ever.

The Underworld was a dark, eerie place, officially known as the city of Cocytus. It formed the foundations of the great city of Oceania, and supplied the power and industry that both cities required. It was a subterranean jungle of twisted pipes and detritus, soaring girders and winding catwalks, massive mountains of steel and rubble soaring hundreds of feet into the air to support the enormous platforms of Oceania’s surface, their faces illuminated by a grim red glow from the roaring industrial blast furnaces before being lost in the gloom overhead. Its inhabitants were as twisted as the city itself—inevitable accidents resulted in metal prosthetics and horrifically disfigured forms. It was in this dark, unpredictable world that Ari found herself, struggling between alternating realms of blistering cold and searing heat, coat pulled tightly around her as if for protection, the translator earphone she had traded for earlier that day banging uncomfortably against her thighs through her coat pocket. It had seemed a good idea at the time—the chance that this Abraxas spoke Unison as opposed to one of the various Underworld dialects was very small—but it was awkward to carry and labeled her clearly as an Overworlder. This would no doubt provoke some hostility, as citizens of Oceania and Cocytus had a long history of bad feelings between them. Although it was against the law for Underworlders to commit violence just as it was for her, they tended to get away with it due to the fact that the Enforcers could rarely distinguish between casualties of combat and casualties of industrial accidents. Her body might not be found for weeks, or months, or even at all—there were enough furnaces and mine shafts to amply dispose of any evidence. There would be a full investigation, of course, but the chances of catching the perpetrator amidst the industrial maze were incredibly small.

A sudden blast of frigid wind halted her morbid train of thought and nearly blew her off her feet. Glancing quickly around, she saw that she was standing directly outside what appeared to be some sort of restaurant. Deciding that it would at least be warmer inside, and she couldn’t avoid the Underworlders forever if she wanted to find Abraxas, she took a deep breath and walked inside.

The “restaurant” was hot and stuffy, and reeked of illegal moonshine whiskey. Some insightful soul had sprayed the words “Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here” above the makeshift bar. Ari slipped in unseen and sat at a rickety table in a dark corner, pulling her collar up to hide as much of her face as possible. There were only five or six patrons, all shady-looking characters whose bodies appeared to be more metal than flesh. None of them paid her any mind, a fact for which she was grateful. Even when the place began to fill up as workers arrived from the mines she remained unnoticed, except for a girl about her age with nearly three quarters of her face covered by metal plating who sat down next to her and proceeded to ignore her. As more people came in, the air became filled with conversation in a plethora of dialects, from Underworld gibberish to remnants of Old World languages. Unable to resist, Ari quietly pulled out the translator and held it up to her ear. She had discovered soon after she acquired it that the vocal channel didn’t work, so she could only listen, but that was just fine for the moment.

She sat listening or a long time, fascinated, until she was startled by a touch on her arm. The girl had moved closer and was gesturing frantically and jabbering in a metallic-sounding dialect that the translator didn’t recognize. No sooner did she comprehend that the girl was warning her to hide the translator immediately than she noticed four large miners with gigantic metal claws in place of their arms and reeking of moonshine stand up and walk slowly towards her. She dropped the translator and quickly edged towards the door, but the menacing figures had gotten between her and the doorway. She shrank into the corner helplessly, frozen in terror, when the door crashed loudly, causing everyone to turn and look. She only just glimpsed the figure who strode into the room as he paused a moment to get his bearings before he crossed the room in three strides, seized a wiry figure seated at one of the tables and hurled him headfirst over the bar, spraying moonshine everywhere and causing the bartender to dive for cover. Ari winced, then glanced at the door, expecting the Enforcers to arrive immediately as they would back home. It was a few moments before she realized they wouldn’t be coming. The thugs had lost all interest in her by now, and the largest of them was engaged in a vicious argument with the newcomer. Ari crawled across the floor to where the translator lay and, against her better judgment, picked it up and pressed it to her ear.

“…What you think you’re doing,” the leader was shouting, “but we don’t need any <unintelligible word; Ari later learned it was a rude reference to the Enforcers> coming after us, not after the last time you <unintelligible word> you were lucky to get away that time, but next time they’re gonna <unintelligible word> you and all the rest of us are gonna be <unknown expletive> ‘cause they’re gonna <unintelligible word> you until you won’t be able to…” his tirade was abruptly cut off as the newcomer stepped forward and closed his mouth with a sucker punch to the lower jaw. The big man staggered backwards for a few steps before hitting the floor hard enough to shake the entire building. The newcomer moved to stand over him, flexing the huge pincer that replaced his right hand, his heavily scarred face contorted in a sneer as he prepared what looked to be a killing blow. As the leader struggled to stand, Ari saw that the lower part of his face had been crushed like an overripe melon. She gagged, the translator falling from her limp grasp as nausea twisted her stomach. The room whirled and she felt darkness closing in on her brain like a lead blanket. Then the three remaining thugs charged the newcomer with a chorus of drunken shouts, a path was suddenly cleared to the door, and she was running, running through the door and out into the storm and away from that place as fast as she could, wind pulling at her clothes and whipping her hair into her eyes, running past yawning furnaces and piles of scattered rubble until something caught her foot and she fell heavily, too stunned to move, sobbing for breath as her mind whirled precariously on the brink of unconsciousness.She lay there for moments or hours, it was impossible to tell, totally alone except for the howling wind and the sound of her own strangled breathing.

“You’ll freeze to death out here.” The voice was warm, gentle and completely unexpected. Ari started, then rolled over to stare up at the figure bending over her.

“It will be dark soon. If you don’t get inside, you’ll freeze,” the figure insisted. “That fancy coat of yours won’t help much.”He held a hand toward her as he spoke.

Ari squinted, then finally brought the figure into focus. He was tall and thin, but powerfully built and very muscular. The right side of his face was covered in a metal plate, behind which a faint green glow indicated a bionic eye replacement. His left hand was covered in a black glove, and attached to his right arm was a clumsy-looking, rectangular device bolted directly into his flesh. Tubes and cables ran out from the device and disappeared into the skin of his arm and shoulder. His face was lean, his jaw square, his high forehead accented by his short, close-cropped hair. His one remaining eye was dull green and sparkled with obvious intelligence. He wore no coat, only a sleeveless black vest of synthetic leather, yet he seemed unaffected by the searing cold. Ari fumbled for the translator so she could answer, realized she didn’t have it, realized it wouldn’t work anyway and finally realized that the stranger had been speaking perfect Unison with no trace of an Underworld accent. She stared up at him in surprise. He gave her an exasperated look, then leaned forward and repeated his statement slowly, as if speaking to a very small child.

“I said…you’re going…to freeze.” He raised his eyebrows as if to question her comprehension ability. “When it gets dark, it gets cold, see, and when it gets cold we have to get inside so we don’t…”

“I heard you,” Ari said suddenly, cutting him off and beginning to rise to her feet. Her mind was clearing now, and she remembered where she was. “I’m just, well, kind of lost at the moment, so I don’t know where inside is, and…” suddenly she realized the full implication of what she had just said: she was lost. She was lost and alone in a strange world full of dangerous people whose language she couldn’t speak with no realistic hope of finding her way home. She would be dead, either from cold or worse, before any Enforcer could find her. She sank slowly to the ground, her mind reeling, and was abruptly aware of moisture on her face. No! She could not be crying. Angrily she wiped the tears away, but fresh ones quickly replaced them. She was dimly aware of a hand on her shoulder, then a pair of strong arms pulling her to her feet. The stranger supported her until she found her footing, whispering something in what sounded like Old World English. Although she couldn’t understand the words, they had a calming effect on her. Soon her tears stopped and she was able to stand on her own. 

“I’m sorry,” she managed as soon as she found her voice. “I’m not usually like this. I just…” The scene in the bar flashed before her, and she trailed off, overwhelmed by the memory.

“You just saw a fight in a bar, and since that was probably the first time you ever saw real violence you had a mild episode of psychotic shock,” the stranger finished with a hint of amusement in his voice. Ari looked at him in surprise.

“How did you…?”

“I was there. I followed you when you left. You’re a very brave girl, miss…”

“Ari. My name is Ari”

“You’re a very brave girl, miss Ari. There’s hardly an Enforcer in all Oceania who would come down here alone, much less enter a place like that. You must have some very pressing business.”

“Actually, I’m looking for someone.” She paused. “Do you think you could help me find him?”

“That depends greatly on whom it is you seek, miss…can I just call you Ari?”

“Yes, of course,” she said quickly. “I never bother with formalities, anyway. What should I call you? Do you have a name?”

“No,” he said smiling in response to her startled glance. “At least, not that I know of. You can call me Abraxas. Now, who exactly are you looking for?”

“That’s odd. The person I’m looking for is also called Abraxas.” Ari was actually more surprised than she let on. Abraxas was not a common name, even for an Underworlder, and the chances that there were two of them was incredibly small. Yet she had expected a venerable old man, wealthier in years than even Old Praetorian. The last thing she had expected was someone barely older than herself.

“It would seem, then, that you have found him.” Abraxas stepped back and made an exaggerated bow. “How can he be of service?”

The Database was a massive supercomputer that was accessible via satellite uplink from anywhere in the world. It provided access to most of the knowledge preserved from the Old World; it also powered the Psychonomicon and provided a means for communication between the city-continents. Since travel by land or water was prohibitively dangerous and travel by air was impossible, it was the only way to keep the world united. This being said, personal computers were a luxury that was only available to the upper classes. Ari had one of her own, which set her apart somewhat even from the rest of her circle. The fact that her father held a seat in the Global Senate allowed so many privileges that the computer seemed insignificant. It almost made up for the fact that he had gone to Rome and she would likely never see him again. After all, most people her age had long since left their homes to begin apprenticeships, so her situation was by no means unusual. However, growing up without a family—her mother had died giving birth to her—had left her far more dependant on the circle for support than most, and this made her feel vulnerable. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if it collapsed, which was why Wraith’s condition unnerved her so. Ari knew about death, of course—but it was something that always happened to someone else, someone you didn’t know, and above all someone far older than you. With violence all but eliminated from the society, the only time someone died was of old age or, on rare occasions, accidents. If it had been, say, Old Praetorian in Wraith’s place, Games or no, the situation would’ve been much easier—but the poor girl had been only eighteen years old, one year younger than she was. It no longer only happened to someone else. It could quite easily happen to her.

The Database also contained identification records for all citizens of the New World, and Ari was using these to try to confirm Abraxas’ identity. She still found it hard to believe that Praetorian had meant for her to find someone her own age. Everyone, even Underworlders, who had been born in the New World since A.W. 14—fourteen years after the treaty of Zion had officially ended the War—had been entered into the system, and so it was surprising, although not entirely unexpected, that the system had never heard of him. To not be in the system was rather unusual, but then again Abraxas was likely a rather unusual character. All citizens of the New World were marked with an identifying symbol at birth, which was tattooed on the back of the left hand, behind the right ear, and somewhere else on the body which varied between individuals. At the same time, cell-sized microchips were planted into the subject’s body. These could be used to trace the subject’s location, a system that proved invaluable to the Enforcers both in locating casualties from fights and, eventually, the perpetrators. Underworlders typically managed to avoid this final procedure, which was just as well since the trace program did not function well amidst the metallic jungles of Cocytus. However, they did receive symbols to aid the Enforcers in at least identifying casualties. Ari frowned at the screen and typed the name into the search program a second time. The machine thought for a moment, then the screen flashed a “subject not found” error message. Ari sighed and sat back in her chair. It was getting very late, and her efforts were proving futile. A second person with the name Abraxas would be unusual enough, and for neither one to be in the system increased the odds to impossibility. For the time being, Ari was forced to assume that the young man she had met and the mysterious man she sought were one and the same. She absently browsed through the list of symbols, looking for interesting ones or for people she knew. Normally when a person died, their symbol was simply erased and re-issued to a newborn subject, but sometimes an especially influential person might have their symbol “retired,” or stored permanently in a separate library. Ari scrolled through these aimlessly—most were senators, none of whom she had heard of. There was also a library of symbols that had been assigned posthumously to honor prominent individuals who had died before the system was established. Some of these dated back to even before the War, and Ari examined these with interest. She found the name of the last of the American presidents, as well as several other Old World leaders whose names and countries she did not recognize. The names of the scientists who developed the Gravitron bomb were listed, as well as the name of the pilot who had dropped it on Beijing. She knew the names of the leaders of the countries that had eventually lost the War from her history lessons, but she could not find them listed. She did find a rather large symbol consisting of a circle with seven stars surrounding crossed sabers that bore the label, “in memory of the lost company of the Delta Chi.” Ari had never heard that name before. Curious, and with nothing better to do, she performed a quick but futile search of the Database for any further reference. Giving up, she signed off and calibrated the machine to run the Psychonomicon. In addition to the usual lessons in calculus, history, and Old World geography, she set the device to transmit any information it could find about the Delta Chi. As she climbed into bed and slipped the shiny metal helmet of the Psychonomicon over her head, she felt a stab of anxiety as she thought of the day ahead. Rather than risk another trip to Cocytus, she had asked Abraxas to meet her at the Institution where Wraith lay dying. Now that she was as sure as she would ever be that he was the right person, she hoped he could figure out what was going on and tell her how to beat the Games if necessary. Deciding to let tomorrow take care of itself, she reached over and tapped the keyboard. A single command turned off the lights, and a second later the soft drone of the Psychonomicon filled her ears:

“The city of Oceania covers most of once was once known as Canada and the United States…”

Ari fell asleep to the monotonous sound of Old World geography, but it was a troubled sleep filled with horrific visions of steel-handed giants, of spilled blood, of shadowy figures pursuing her along gloomy passages and of a stoic, indomitable figure with glowing green eyes who stood shrouded in darkness whispering unsettling omens of violent death.

Wraith lay in a cramped, sterile, white-walled room on a small bed surrounded by a dozen massive gleaming machines all charged with the task of keeping her alive. Always of diminutive stature, the presence of the hulking machines surrounding her emaciated frame made her seem impossibly frail. Ari was unprepared for the sight and halted at the door, suddenly feeling weak and dizzy. Abraxas, impervious, glared at the orderly who had shown them in to indicate that her presence was no longer required before stepping forward to gaze into Wraith’s unresponsive face. Ari recovered herself and followed slowly. Wraith had awakened earlier that morning, according to the orderly, and had been slipping in and out of consciousness all day. Although awake, her vital signs were weak and a recovery was highly unlikely. Despite this, she still looked the same as she had when she collapsed, a fact that unnerved Ari all the more. She was about to insist that they leave immediately, that the visit was pointless, when a soft sigh from the bed caught her attention. Wraith had opened her eyes and was staring at her, her expression listless and uncomprehending.

“Dorian?” She whispered, her voice weak, hoarse and barely audible. Ari caught her breath. Dorian was a member of the circle—actually, a former member—and he was the one who had done this to her. That she could still love him even now was beyond Ari’s comprehension. She could only shake her head no. Wraith exhaled slowly and began to close her eyes again when she suddenly caught sight of Abraxas leaning against the wall and watching her. She stared at him for a moment with a confused expression.

“Hello,” she said at length, her voice weak and toneless. “Do I know you?”Her speech was slurred, as though she had been drugged.

“No. No, you don’t.”

Wraith seemed satisfied with this response and turned her attention back to Ari.

“Tell Dorian…” Her voice abruptly stopped in an airy, gasping cough. Ari moved forward to try and help, but Wraith recovered before she got there. “Tell Dorian,” she repeated, her voice a hoarse whisper, “Tell him I want to see him one more time, before I…” She stopped, and her whole body convulsed with a fit of coughing. Ari watched, helpless, as the small body jolted and shook with unbelievable force. Abraxas moved over to the bed and steadied her vibrating frame until the fit subsided. “I know he’d want to see me,” she finished, her voice barely audible. She relaxed against Abraxas’ grasp and laid back, eyes half closed. Ari walked over and stood beside Abraxas, looking down into her friend’s face, tears blurring her eyes. She did not know how to tell Wraith that Dorian had no desire to ever see her again, that he had left the circle, that he would never know or care when she was dead. To tell her would’ve been horribly cruel—better for her to die believing that he still loved her as he once had. Wraith’s soft, liquid gray eyes opened, and for a moment locked onto Ari’s with an expression of infinite sadness.

“He left, didn’t he?” Ari couldn’t bring himself to nod, but her expression must have betrayed the answer. Wraith paused a moment, expression unwavering, then asked, “Is he with Aurora?”This time Ari managed a small nod before tearing her eyes away and rushing to the far side of the room, staring back with eyes blinded by tears. Wraith managed a small smile even as tears welled up in her eyes. Abraxas, still kneeling beside the bed, now stood and gazed down into her eyes, his face twisted by an unnamable emotion. Wraith returned his stare unflinchingly. “At least he’s happy now,” she whispered to nobody in particular, then relaxed and closed her eyes.

Abraxas reached out and gently touched her face, brushing white-blonde hair away from her eyes, gazing down at the sad expression she still wore. Suddenly a long shudder ran down the length of her body, the small form convulsed, and an alarm connected to one of the machines sounded a pulsing, irregular tone before terminating in a monotonous drone. “Sleep well, child,” Abraxas said softly, then tore his gaze from her face and glared at the floor.

Red lights flashed in the hallway, and a medic accompanied by several orderlies and an Enforcer rushed in. The medic took a long look around, at Ari huddled in the corner sobbing uncontrollably, at Abraxas standing over the bed like a frozen statue, at the machine flashing the alarm, and finally at the still figure on the bed who lay as though asleep with a peaceful expression on her youthful face. He shrugged helplessly and turned to the Enforcer, who nodded his consent. One of the orderlies walked over to the cluster of machines and flipped a switch. The alarm suddenly stopped, and the room was silent save for Ari’s strangled sobs. Then Abraxas turned abruptly and strode out of the room, pushing past the small crowd in the doorway, his face contorted in what could only be described as controlled fury. Then the medic and orderlies filed out, their services no longer needed. As they left, Ari heard one of the orderlies comment offhandedly to a colleague, and his statement sent chills up her spine:

“It seems” he said casually, “that someone’s been playing Games.”

Gleaming in the sunlight, the glass and steel towers of Oceania stretched off into the distance as far as the eye could see. This city was the lifeblood of the New World, the hub of the global economy. All of the corporations of the world held central offices here, and the steel shells of the trade centers buzzed and pulsed with constant activities like gargantuan metal beehives. Here the spoils of capitalism were displayed and flaunted before the world, which could only stare in awe at the magnificent display of opulence. The whole city shone as a beacon of wealth and prosperity, a shining silver blanket that effectively masked the horror that was the derelict city of Cocytus from the rest of the world. The suite that Ari shared with her circle was located near the top of a massive skyscraper, with a view that faced away from the force dome towards the gleaming expanse of the city. Staring out of her window, the sunlight reflected of countless polished-glass spires forcing her to squint, she was grateful for that separation. It was easy to forget that there was such a place as Cocytus, to think that all the nightmares of the Underworld could be simply dismissed as dreams. Then she thought of the now-empty room just down the hall where Wraith had once lived, and something caught in her throat. This wasn’t a dream; the horror was very real, and it was happening to her. She had not seen Abraxas since he had left the Institution the day before, and she quite honestly didn’t care if she never saw him again. She just wanted to board up that old room, curl up in the safety of her own bed and pretend that none of this had ever happened.

A knock on the frame of the open door and a polite “Good Morning” turned her attention from the view out the window. “Hello, Adrian,” she answered dully, then turned back to the view. Abraxas was down there somewhere, and with him were all the horrors of the past few days. She knew in her heart that it would be impossible to avoid him, that as soon as she ventured outside he would be there waiting.

Adrian quietly crossed the room and gently laid his hand on her shoulder Suddenly weak, she turned and allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace. It was terrible that now, when she needed the circle the most, she could least afford to depend on it. Adrian was different though; she knew he would never turn on her. She felt moisture on her face, but for once was not ashamed to cry. She had shed enough tears in the past few days to last a lifetime. A few more would not make any difference. Adrian would understand. Unlike the rest of the circle, he had grown up on the edge of the Underworld, working with his father as a cross-border merchant. He had aspirations to become an Enforcer, had already completed the rudimentary levels of training, and had seen more violence and death in his twenty years than most Oceanians would see in twenty lifetimes. Standing there with him, Ari found it easy to forget about Abraxas and Cocytus and Wraith and the Games, so much so that when a voice from he hallway alerted him to some urgent business and he left after a few quick words of reassurance she found her tears had stopped and a new sense of confidence ad been imbued. Her roommate, Kara, was nowhere in sight, and Ari realized with a start that it was nearly noon. She also realized that she has slept in her clothes the night before and she was generally a mess. Resigning herself to face the day ahead whatever it held, she closed the door and headed for the bathroom to clean up.

After a vigorous shower and a change of clothes, Ari felt much better. Staring at herself in the mirror, she found she hardly looked the haggard and frightened tramp she had felt only an hour before. Although unlike Kara she could not be described as beautiful, she was attractive enough, with a soft oval face, large brown eyes, ears that stuck out slightly too far for her liking and teeth that could’ve been less crooked, but with long, straight, lustrous black hair that contrasted nicely with her bronze skin. She walked out into the room and saw that there was still no sign of Kara, but Adrian was pacing back and forth looking very agitated. Behind him, in the doorway, stood the shadowy form of a figure she had hoped to never set eyes on again.

“He showed up here asking for you,” Adrian said helplessly. Ari gave him a look that said “I’ll deal with you later,” then walked past him and spoke directly to Abraxas.

“And what exactly are you doing here?”

Abraxas ignored the question. “It seems your friend Dorian is quite the Catalyst,” he said dryly. “Look.” He tossed a data transcript down onto Kara’s bed. Adrian picked it up and read slowly.

“Transcript from the United Medical Institutions of Greater Oceania, c/o Precinct Commander Torquemada-32373m, Oceanic Office of Law. Subject: One Aurora-73121f reported deceased as of 0200 hours…” His voice trailed off and he stared at the paper in disbelief.“When did you find this?”

“This morning. It happened yesterday.”

“And you think Dorian killed her?”

“He killed your other friend, didn’t he?”

“It could have been anything,” Ari objected suddenly. “You don’t even know how she died. I mean, it could’ve been an accident or something.” It was a hollow argument, but at least it provided some reassurance.

“Cause of death is listed as ‘comprehensive and spontaneous rupture of the Cardiac muscle’,” said Adrian tonelessly, still staring at the transcript. Then, under his breath, “That dirty son-of-a-Haemovore…”

Ari snatched the transcript away and tried her best to read it, but it was mostly legal and medical jargon that made little sense to her. Anger and frustration welled up in her, but it was mixed with a sense of relief. Yes, Aurora had been a dear friend and her death came as a shock, but if Dorian was the Catalyst than her circle was safe. She looked at Adrian, who shrugged and turned to Abraxas with an expression that said, “What do we do now?”

Abraxas read his face perfectly. “We kill him,” he said.

Ari and Adrian looked at each other in shock. “You…you can’t do that,” Adrian spluttered. Ari nodded vigorously in conformation.

“You would rather let him live to kill again? And again?”

“That’s some other circle’s problem.”

“So what will you do when he comes back here?” And with that, Abraxas turned on his heel and strode out the door, leaving them staring after him in surprise and confusion.

The windswept platform was dark, deserted, and freezing cold. A power failure somewhere in the massive electrical complex below her had forced the city to pull the power from the safety markers, and the darkness outside the force dome’s halo was complete, jagged mountain peaks merging seamlessly with starless sky. Ari stood alone facing the elevator shaft beneath the weak flicker of a dying emergency floodlight. The city behind her lay in shadow, with only the glaring blaze of the odd emergency light to separate it from the greater blackness. With agonizing slowness, the archaic machine ground it’s way upward and finally came to a lurching halt at the platform level. Old Praetorian had barely stepped out before she ran up and grabbed him by the arm. He turned slowly, his eye reading her face with an expressionless stare.

“Hello again, young one,” he said levelly, with no trace of surprise. “What brings you to so desolate a place at so late an hour?”

“I need to ask you about Abraxas,” Ari said bluntly. Praetorian nodded.

“So you have found him, then.”

“Yes, I found him. Please, I need your help.”

“And what are these things that you wish to know?” asked Praetorian in a slightly irritated tone.

“Things like who exactly he is and why he’s talking about killing people as if it was something he did every day!” Ari fairly shouted.

Praetorian held her eyes with a hard, unyielding gaze. “It’s very late, young one, and the elements are inhospitable. Perhaps some other time would be more appropriate for stories.” He turned away with an air of finality. Ari caught him again and spun him around with a force that surprised even her.

“No. I need to know now. The cold doesn’t bother me, and it’s not like you have anywhere warmer to go, is it? I need your help. Please.”

Praetorian sighed heavily. “Sit down then, child, for the story is not short in telling. But before it begins, there are things you must know. Does the name of the Delta Chi hold any meaning for you?”

It did, of course, but Ari knew little beyond the strange symbol she had found. She knew from the Psychonomicon that they had been somehow involved in the military forces of the Old World at the time of the War, but the machine had not been overly helpful in the way of useful information, and she said as much.

“Very well, then,” said Old Praetorian briskly. “That is where the tale shall begin. As you undoubtedly have learned from your history lessons, the Old World nation of China invaded the country then known as America in the fairly early stages of the War. You are also familiar with, I assume, the branch of the old American military known as the Marines. They trained several companies of highly elite soldiers to perform reconnaissance and sabotage missions behind enemy lines. These units were so secret that they were referred to only as ‘X teams.’ The Delta Company was among the most well trained, as they served as guerillas, saboteurs, and assassins as well as spies. They were trained to act on instinct, and combat became second nature to them. Delta Company of project ‘X’ became known in shorthand as Delta ‘X’ or Delta Chi, and they were greatly feared among the enemy commanders.

“According to records from that time, this unit was dispatched for a routine reconnaissance mission. Before they had even reached the enemy lines, the command center received a desperate static-filled message from the company requesting emergency backup. Despite static and gunfire, the soldier was able to give his position before the connection abruptly went dead. A rescue team was quickly scrambled, and do you know what they found when they reached the position?”

Ari, staring at him with wide eyes, could only shake her head no.

“They found nothing,” Praetorian said emphatically. “Nothing except spent shell casings, scattered supplies and weapons, and a com-link that proved to be in perfect working order.There was no trace of the men or of the enemy they had been fighting, neither was there evidence of a struggle. The men’s tracks were found leading to the site, but there they stopped. They were simply gone.

“No one ever discovered why the com-link failed or who the mysterious enemy was. No bodies were ever found, none of the men were ever heard from again. Due to the sensitive nature of the project, the incident was quickly hushed up, but the fate of the Delta Chi remains the greatest unsolved mystery of the War.”

“That’s very interesting,” said Ari as soon as she found her voice, “but what does that have to do with you or Abraxas?”

“Patience, young one. All will be revealed in time,” said Praetorian in a maddeningly calm voice. Ari choked back her exasperation and waited for him to continue.

“As you probably don’t know,” continued the old man, “I was once an scavenger and explorer of the wilderness when such a trade was profitable. I led an expedition of men to map the edge of the deadzone and discover what artifacts lay in the uncharted wastes. Every night we would return to the shelter of the force dome to escape the Ion storms and creatures of the night.”

Something howled off in the distance, and Ari shuddered. Whatever indigenous life had survived the War had been mutated into horrific monsters, known as Haemovores, which were a favorite subject of bedtime stories to terrify young children. Enforcers armed with powerful electroplasmic weapons stood guard at the outskirts of the dome to guard against the unlikely event that one of the creatures should attempt to enter the city. The monsters were the single greatest reason why the wilderness, although theoretically habitable, was almost universally avoided.

Praetorian ignored the chilling sound. “We walked the same route, day in and day out, for months,” he recalled slowly. “We would walk until the city was out of sight, then choose a direction and follow it, carefully marking out way. As time went by, we would stay out for days at a time despite the danger. Sometimes we found ruins of ancient settlements, wrecks of old machines, windows into the Old World. Most times we found nothing. And one time, as we returned from a fruitless weeklong search along a path we had created that same day along the edge of the deadzone…” he paused for emphasis. Ari held her breath. “…We found a young man laying across our way, a man with one hand and half a face, lying where no man had been at our last passing. His tracks led off into the deadzone, and none of us were foolish enough to follow them further.”

Ari stared at him disbelievingly. The deadzones were areas where the radiation level was so high that nothing could survive in them. For someone to be able to walk out of one, even for only a few steps, should have been impossible.

“If you think we were surprised then,” Praetorian said, reading her face with a hint of amusement, “You can only guess how we felt when we found he was still alive, albeit delirious and barely conscious.”

“I didn’t want a bedtime story,” Ari interjected. “I want information. I don’t need to sit here listening to you make stuff up.” She started to rise to her feet as she spoke.

“You can ask him, if you like,” said Praetorian dryly, “although he claims not to remember. He has no memory beyond finally waking up in an institution several weeks later.” Ari fell silent and sat back slowly. Praetorian frowned at her, then continued.

“His body was badly irradiated, but not more than our suits could handle. We carried him back with us, hoping to discover who he was and from whence he had come. However, as I have said, he was delirious. He could say nothing beyond a few garbled phrases. He had no identification whatsoever on his person, and so the most we could learn from him we learned from his clothing. He wore the tattered uniform of an Old World soldier, which we identified as standard issue American combat fatigues. The insignia was rather intriguing, however—a triangle with an ‘X’ through the center. The insignia of the Delta Chi.”

Ari was speechless.

“We took him back to the city and put him in the best institution we could find in Cocytus. He did survive, but our questioning proved futile as he could not remember anything that had passed before.”

“Did you find out what happened to the rest of his unit?” Ari stammered as soon as she recovered enough to speak.

“No. He has no memory of them or what happened to him before he awakened. He does not even remember his own name. And, although we searched for months afterward, no trace of any others was found.”

“What happened to him after that?”

“The medics fitted prosthetics for his hand and face as best they could. The computer gave him a name and symbol, just like the rest of us, and he was sent to live as an ordinary citizen. I have not heard from him since.”

“So why did you send me to him?”

“You wanted to survive. He has fought in the War, survived a mystery beyond the knowledge of any man, wandered the deadzone, and existed for years in the depths of the Underworld. If anyone can teach you of survival, it is he.” Praetorian turned and started to walk away.

“Wait!” Ari called desperately after him. “Why is he trying to kill people?”

Praetorian paused, then turned slowly. “Delta Chi was a genocide unit,” he said flatly. ”They were trained to kill men, women, and children, soldier and civilian alike, without hesitation and without mercy. Now if you’ll excuse me.”And with that he turned and hurried away and was swallowed up by the darkness.

Adrian had been awake since before dawn, making routine repairs on his hovercraft. There was a large shed on the roof of the building, and Adrian had converted it into his personal workshop. The sun was already high when Ari found him hard at work, trying unsuccessfully to concentrate while maintaining an animated dialogue with Kara, who was sitting in the pilot’s seat pretending to drive. She was almost eighteen, the minimum age required for a driver’s license, and Adrian had promised to teach both her and Ari how to drive it. Although Ari had no need for transportation—she worked for the Office of Knowledge, whose task it was to regulate and update the Database, and did everything over the computer—she had always wanted to learn how to drive. The hovercraft was Adrian’s contribution to the circle. He had come from a much lower social class than any of them and he felt a need to earn his position, and it didn’t matter how many times Ari and the others insisted it was unnecessary. As long as he was the one with the vehicle and driver’s license, his position in his own mind was unquestioned. Ari stood in the door of the garage, watching him work with silent fascination, listening to Kara’s excited chatter with amusement, glad to be among her friends where she felt at home and safe. Soon Dorian and Abraxas and Praetorian would be nothing more than distant memories. Abraxas would kill Dorian, and then the Enforcers would kill him, and she would be free of them both. She smiled at the thought and almost laughed, but quickly suppressed it into a choking gurgle. Adrian heard her anyway and turned around, somewhat startled, then relaxed as he saw her.

“Well, it seems Sleeping Beauty is finally awake.” He walked over and kissed her playfully on the cheek. She laughed and pushed him away. “I was just about to call the medics. You wanna help? You’ve always been interested in machines” He grinned and held out a grease-coated wrench.

“Oh, no. I have no idea what to do. Besides, I’ll get dirty.”

“Oh, you mean dirty like this?” Adrian caught her and held her close, grease from his hands smearing all over her shirt. She yelped and pulled away, laughing, then grabbed an oil rag and threw it at his head, smearing his face with grime. He picked it up with a surprised expression, then grinned mischievously and ran at her, brandishing the rag like a weapon. She ran, but he was faster and caught her with little trouble, rubbing the oil into her hair as she laughed and tried half-heartedly to push him away.

“Hey, guys, looks like somebody needs to shower.”

Both of them froze, then turned to see Kara grinning like a fiend and aiming a hose at them from other side of the garage. Then a high-powered jet of water hit them both in the face, and they were running across the floor shouting and laughing, and then Adrian had the hose and had chased Kara into a corner, and then Ari came up behind him and dumped a bottle of engine lubricant on his head, and then he was chasing her around the hovercraft until both she and Kara jumped on him and wrestled the hose away and sat on him while they sprayed him in the face until he finally managed to get up and turn the water off. For several minutes all they could do was lie there, exhausted, panting, and soaking wet.

“Well,” gasped Ari when she could finally breathe, “I suppose that’s one way to deal with a dirty old man.” She grinned at Adrian, who lay on his back on the other side of the garage.

He grinned back. “You’re lucky you didn’t melt, witch,” he retorted as he laboriously pulled himself into a sitting position.

Ari pulled off one of her shoes and threw it at him, missing by several yards. She kicked off the other one, then pulled off her soaking wet socks, wrung them out, and tossed them aside. She stood up, walked over to Adrian, and held her hand out to him.

“Truce?”

“Truce.” He grabbed her hand and climbed to his feet, moved to embrace her, then stopped. “Eww, you’re all wet.”

“Look who’s talking. You’re wetter than I am.” She turned away quickly, swinging her hair into his face. He caught her and spun her around to face him, then pulled her close to him.

“You better watch it with that hose, girl. Next time the Enforcers might show up.”

Ari laughed. “You wouldn’t let them get me, would you?”

“Nope, I’d hold them off, all by myself.”

Across the room, Kara stood up and cleared her throat. The both turned to look at her. “I think I’ll go downstairs and change now,” she said in a small voice, then turned and ran out of the room. Ari started to follow, but Adrian grabbed her arm.

“Don’t. It won’t do any good.”

Ari reluctantly obeyed. She could only imagine how Kara must feel. She had lost her two best friends in the space of a week, and now the two remaining members of her Circle were shutting her out. A cool breeze blew through the room, and she shivered.

“Can we go outside? We might dry off in the sun, and it’s cold in here.”

Adrian nodded, and together they walked out onto the roof. The city lay spread out like a gleaming blanket as far as they could see. Behind them, the translucent halo of the force dome reared up into the stratosphere until it became indistinguishable from the layered gasses it contained. These gasses not only made it possible to breathe without a respirator; they also trapped the heat of the sun and held the city in a state of perpetual spring during the daylight hours. The magnetic field not only contained the atmosphere but also repelled the ion clouds that blanketed the rest of the planet, so the sky was a clear blue with only a few faint wisps of white vapor clouds. The steel plated surface of the roof felt warm to her bare feet, and she could feel the rays of the sun pulling the moisture from her clothes and hair. Adrian took her hand, and they both stood silently for a long moment, wondering at the breathtaking landscape.

“You think she’ll be all right?” Ari asked suddenly.

“Kara? Sure, she’ll be fine. Don’t worry about her.”

“I don’t know. She’s been through a lot lately.”

“So there you have it. She’s just stressed.”

“It’s more than that, and you know it, Adrian,” Ari said with exasperation.

“So what are we supposed to do?”

“Well, maybe we could start by being a little nicer to her.”

“Ok. Fine. But that’s not the easiest thing in the world to do, you know. She’s been a bit hypersensitive ever since her friend kicked it!” They were facing each other now, their voices rising with each statement.

“That’s just it, Adrian, don’t you get it?” Ari screamed. “We are the only friends she has left, you understand? If we shut her out now, the same thing will happen to her that happened to them! I’m sure you don’t care, but I really don’t want to see any more of my friends die, okay?”She was breathing heavily tears had begun to blur her vision, but she still glared at him defiantly. Adrian’s face twisted into a grimace of fury and he started to respond, but he suddenly caught himself.

“You’re right.” He said slowly. “I guess we’re all a little high strung.” He shook his head despairingly. “The circle’s too small. We’ll tear ourselves apart if we don’t find some more people.”

“Perhaps I can help you with that particular problem,” said a new voice from the stairwell. Both Ari and Adrian turned in surprise.

Dorian was standing in the doorway, watching them with a neutral expression.

For a long moment, nobody said a word. Ari wiped her eyes and stared in disbelief, Adrian looked as if he’d just seen a ghost. Dorian never moved, only watched them warily. Ari was first to find her voice.

“Wha…what are you doing here?” She stammered, still not fully believing what she saw. “I thought you left, I thought you were gone, I thought…” Her voice trailed off.

“Yeah, what exactly are you doing here?” Adrian cut in. “Did you just think you could waltz on out, kill a few people, and then just come right back whenever you felt like? Is that it?” He started walking menacingly towards him as he spoke. 

“Whoa!” Dorian held up his hands and began backing down the stairs. “Take it easy, man. You don’t really think I killed those people, do you?” He looked desperately at Ari for support, found none. “You do think so, don’t you?” He turned back to Adrian. “Look, man, I understand how you feel, but it’s not worth your life, man. You hurt me, they’ll come for you, and you know it. Think of yourself, man. Think of your girlfriend, for heaven’s sake.” He gestured toward Ari, who still stood silently watching.

“Stop it, Adrian,” she said suddenly. “He’s right, it’s not worth it.” Adrian obeyed reluctantly. Dorian hesitantly emerged from the stairwell and, keeping a wary eye on Adrian, spoke directly to Ari.

“Look. I know it’s been hard for you. I can only imagine what you’re feeling right now. You probably hate me more than any person on this earth. But you have to believe me. I did not kill them. Wraith, Aurora, they did it to themselves. It takes more than one to play Games, you know. They lost. It’s not my fault; you’ve got to believe me. Please. You know I would never want to hurt them.” He held out his hands imploringly.

“Of course not,” said Adrian sarcastically. “You only meant to rip those poor girls’ hearts out and stomp them on the floor, but heavens no, you didn’t want to hurt them.”

“Oh, don’t you even pretend like you cared about them, Enforcer,” Dorian shot back. Adrian caught his breath sharply and started to reply, but a harsh look from Ari stopped his retort before it came out.

“What exactly happened to Aurora?” she asked, more curious than accusing.

Dorian sighed heavily. “Well, she was a drifter. As you know, she grew tired of this circle and wanted to move on. I decided to go with her. The new circle she found didn’t take too kindly to me; if it weren’t for her I’d probably be the one in the morgue. Anyway, I became almost completely dependent on her friendship. Needless to say I was rather uncomfortable with that, but what made it worse was that she thought it was…well, something more. In any case, she got tired of them and was ready to move on, but I had already had enough of drifting and wanted to come home.” He shook his head sadly. “We got in a big argument, and it ended with me storming out the door and heading back. The next morning I learned she was dead. I was afraid to come back, then, because I knew what you guys would think.” He glared at Adrian as he finished, who returned it unflinchingly.

“Why should we believe you?” he snarled.

Dorian turned back to Ari with a look of desperation. “C’mon, guys. I’m supposed to be your friend, remember? If you won’t take me, who will? Pretend you’re me for a minute. I can’t live as a pariah. Haven’t you lost enough friends for now?”

Ari watched him silently for a long time, her face expressionless. Then she slowly spread her arms and walked towards him. He hugged her gently, then tentatively held out a hand to Adrian, who stood stoically off to the side.

“Come on, Adrian. Please.” Ari said gently. “I’m tired of people dying. I just want to end this. Please.”

Reluctantly Adrian took his hand, but his face never softened, neither did he follow them inside to break the news to Kara. He remained alone on the roof, watching them go with a cold, emotionless expression.

The Enforcers were the guardians, protectors, and arbitrators of the citizens of the New World. Once human, their fragile bodies had been enhanced with a bionic exoskeleton that boosted their physical capabilities considerably. Their brains contained a cybernetic implant that allowed them to scan, store and access data in the same way as a computer. This implant also contained an uplink to a global network that allowed them to communicate with both each other and the Office of Law by a sort of technological telepathy. They could access information from the database at will and also make use of the GPS-based citizen tracing system. Individual Enforcers patrolled the streets of the cities of the New World, ensuring that order was kept and laws were obeyed. They stood at the entrances to the city to guard against the creatures of the wilderness. They monitored the institutions and their consent was needed before any medic could terminate life support on a dead or dying subject. They monitored surgical procedures to ensure that any accidents were genuine. They held the otherwise unobtainable License to Commit Violence, and were authorized to dispense justice at their own discretion. They were well equipped for this task even though ballistic weapons were not permitted due to possible crossfire victims. The principal weapon of the Enforcer was simply called a Talon, and consisted of two long blades strapped to the back of the wrist. Pneumatic pistons controlled by a neurokinetic impulse allowed the blades to be shot out over the hand at a moment’s notice and used as swords, cleavers, or simply stabbing implements that could be retracted when not in use. In addition to their armor, a powerful electromagnetic shield device also protected them in case the victims should try to defend themselves. They were highly trained in the art of combat, and it was fear of them that forced even the most rebellious citizens to adhere to the laws. As far as Ari knew, no one who had faced them in a confrontation had come out alive, or even in one piece.Watching Adrian, she couldn’t understand why he would possibly want to become on of them. True, they possessed power beyond what most citizens would dare dream of, but even that seemed a poor exchange for the loss of one’s humanity. She didn’t like the thought of Adrian being surgically implanted into a metal sarcophagus and given a computer for a brain. Would he still feel the same way about her after all of that? More disturbing still, could she still love him? Would there be enough of her friend left for her to recognize beneath the generic metal shell? Ari forced her mind away from the subject. The circle was finally returning to normal, and she wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. 

The four of them stood on a maintenance deck directly over a throbbing generator coil, watching the sun set over the mountains. The weather had taken an extremely rare turn, causing the ion clouds to temporarily dissipate and allowing a clear view of the sun, which could usually not be seen when low on the horizon.Kara had returned to her normal, cheerful self soon after Dorian’s return, and the pair of them had developed a strong friendship. Even Adrian’s adamant distrust was beginning to fade. Ari was personally glad of Dorian’s presence; it allowed her to spend that much more time with Adrian without feeling guilty about leaving Kara alone. They stood together in silence, watching the last rays of the sun begin to disappear and taking in the rare view of the stars spread out over the wilderness.

“Guess who I saw today?” Dorian said abruptly.

“Who?” asked Kara absently, still wondering at the landscape. Ari and Adrian watched him in anticipation.

“One of the girls I used to work with. Nobody you would know…it was just interesting to run into an old acquaintance. We don’t see a lot of new faces these days…anyway, she said their circle just lost a drifter, and…”

“And what?” asked Adrian suspiciously.

“And she asked if I would care to join them.”

“You said no, of course,” said Ari levelly.

“Well…” Dorian sighed and shook his head. “Oh, what the heck, I was gonna have to tell you sometime, I guess. I’m leaving sometime tomorrow.”

Adrian stared at him, than put a hand to his ear and stepped closer. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I heard you. Care to repeat that?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dorian shot back. “Look around you, man. You guys are falling apart, and I don’t really want to be around when you fling yourselves to pieces. I just needed a place to stay for a few weeks until I found another place to go.”

Ari and Adrian stared in disbelief.

Kara reached out tentatively and touched his shoulder. He wheeled on her, causing her to jump back. “Can…can I go with you?” She asked in a small voice.

“No. No, you can’t,” he said curtly. Then, more gently, “They don’t want to just include anybody. They’re afraid of Catalysts.”

“You’re the flipping Catalyst!” Adrian yelled. He took a menacing step forward.

“Hey. Take it easy, Enforcer,” Dorian sneered. “Man, you should see yourself right now. Thinking you’re gonna hit me. Man, you don’t have the guts.” He stood up straight and spread his arms. “Go on. Hit me. Hit me good and start running. You’ll have five, maybe ten minutes before the Enforcers catch up with you and drag you off to rot in a correctional institution.” Adrian stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowed and breathing labored. Dorian moved to stand directly in front of him and laughed in his face. “Ha! See, the poor helpless little Enforcer can’t do a thing. Man, I love this country.” He turned to leave. “Well, I guess I’ll see you all around.”

“Wait!” Kara called weakly. Dorian stopped but didn’t turn. “What am I going to do now?” she asked pleadingly.

He half turned. “Don’t know. Whatever you want to, I suppose. Fall over in a coma if you like. I honestly don’t care.” With that, he spun sharply on his heel and strode off the platform, his laughter echoing back across the platform to them.

Kara stared helplessly after him, her mouth open in shock. She made a strange choking sound and lunged forward as if to follow, but pitched forward after only a few steps and fell in a crumpled heap, whimpering. Suddenly her body convulsed and she let out a series of short, piercing, agonized cries before she finally lay still. Adrian watched, helpless, then quickly glanced around the platform, his gaze finally falling on a large iron rod. He picked it up and started purposefully for the stairs that led back up to the city. Ari caught his arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She demanded.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Adrian snarled, shaking himself free.

“Adrian, no!” He ignored her and headed for the stairs again. “Adrian, please! You know you can’t get away with it. Think of me. Think of…”

She was cut off abruptly by a shrill scream of pain and terror from somewhere above her. It was a piercing, inhuman sound, yet it had clearly come from a human throat. Adrian turned to her with a questioning look, and then they both bolted up the stairs, Adrian still gripping his weapon. As they turned the first landing, they both froze, staring in shock at the sight that greeted them. Dorian lay halfway up the flight of stairs, a look of sheer terror on his face, blood trickling from his nose and mouth. At the top of the stairs, glowering down like a demonic gargoyle, stood the silhouetted figure of Abraxas, his face contorted into a grimace of rage. The last rays of the dying sun reflected of his metal faceplate, the blood red light casting the rest of his face into a contoured shadow. Dorian staggered to his feet, then bolted past them down the stairs, whimpering in fear. Abraxas hissed angrily, then with surprising agility vaulted the railing and landed lightly on the lower flight of stairs directly behind his fleeing victim. With a hard blow to the spine, he sent Dorian tumbling down the stairs to land in a heap next to Kara on the platform.He lay stunned for a moment, then began crawling towards the far edge of the platform. Abraxas followed slowly, reveling in his prey’s feeble attempt to escape. He crouched down beside Dorian and looked at him calculatingly, then abruptly punched downward toward his victim’s shoulder blades. Dorian let out a sharp cry that ended in a gurgling cough. Ari was confused until Abraxas abruptly stood and backed away, and then what she saw caused bile to rise in her stomach. She now saw what the mysterious device on Abraxas’ arm was; dripping with blood, the twin blades of an Enforcer’s talon gleamed a dull red in the fading light. Abraxas stooped, grabbed Dorian’s collar, and hauled him to his feet, holding him at arm’s length. The floodlights above the platform suddenly turned on as the sun disappeared, and Ari saw that the blades of the talon had punched cleanly through his chest. She turned away, suddenly sick, then forced herself to look back just in time to see Abraxas slash him violently across the torso, exacting another scream of agony. He drew his arm back for another blow, this one aimed squarely at the face. At the last second, the blades retracted and his fist landed squarely on the bridge of Dorian’s nose. There was a wet crack as Abraxas released his grip and allowed the force of the impact to carry Dorian’s limp form across the platform, where he somehow managed to grab the low railing and hold on for support. Abraxas crossed the platform in two strides, picked Dorian up bodily, yelled something in English which Ari didn’t understand, and flung him over the railing into the high-voltage generator coil. There was an enormous cracking sound and an explosion of sparks.Dorian’s body was on fire, yet he was somehow, horribly, still alive, his anguished screams drifting up to Ari along with the acrid smell of burning flesh. Abraxas stood watching the spectacle silently, his leering features footlighted by the strobing flashes of electrical lightning. It was too much for Ari; her mind went numb, all her instincts screamed for her to run away, far away. She was running, but was unaware of the action or where she was going. She heard sirens and saw the hulking figures of several Enforcers running past her, and then the world was an incoherent swirl of lights and shadows as she reached the city, running blindly through streets and alleys until she had no strength left, at which point she fell to the ground at the back of a dark alley and lay there, sobbing bitterly, her brain reeling in horror.Presently she realized that Adrian was standing a few feet away, his face ghostly pale. As he saw her turn towards him, tears still flowing freely down her face, he gently reached out and pulled her to him wordlessly. She pressed her face into his shoulder and cried harder, her tears soaking through his shirt. He stroked her hair gently and tried to reassure her, but she could tell he was shaking. 

“I didn’t want that to happen,” he said softly. “Not like that. He deserved to be hurt, but not like that. Oh, God.” He held her tightly. “We’re finished now. The circle is gone. Kara’s dead…” his voice died in his throat and he seemed almost ready to cry himself. “I love you, Ari,” he whispered hoarsely. “Whatever happens now, I want you to know that.” His voice choked off.

Ari heard him, but the voice was surreal and distant. She tried to say that she loved him too, that it would be all right, but no words would come, only tears. Then her mind lost its precarious hold on consciousness and a welcome emptiness enveloped her.

The air was heavy, still, and bitter cold. Far off in the distance, over the mountains, ominous black thunderheads were accumulating, growing denser by the hour. The Office of the Exterior was tracking a gigantic ion storm traveling towards the city, and communication with the Administrative continent had already been lost, but Ari did not care. The initial shock and horror of Kara’s loss and Dorian’s death had slowly worn off, leaving a dull empty ache in their place. She had not seen Adrian for nearly a week; he now spent all his waking hours at the training facility, drowning his emotions with physical strain. Ari knew that he was struggling as much as she, but she needed him to be there to comfort and support her. Staying in her room working at the computer and trying not to notice Kara’s belongings, none of which would ever be used again, had only served to heighten the gnawing pain that did not abate over time. The city and all its opulence became repulsive to her; the shining sun and gleaming buildings only served to remind her of a happier time that was lost to her forever. She fled to the Underworld, seeking safety amid the twisted darkness from her oppressive memory. She walked blindly, not caring where she went or who she passed. Alone with her thoughts, her mind kept returning to her old friends: Wraith, the shy, frightened Pariah who had seen the circle as a second chance for life, now dead; Aurora, the feisty, impulsive, self-sufficient Drifter, also dead; Dorian, the Catalyst, mercifully dead; Kara, her best friend, always cheerful and full of life, now dead or nearly so. And Adrian—Adrian, who she had loved so dearly, who had always been so gentle and caring, now consumed by rage and hatred against an enemy he could never face, driven by an insatiable desire to kill and destroy. The ache in her heart suddenly stabbed violently and she cried out, falling to her knees as tears sprang to her eyes. Gradually, the pain faded again and, as she looked around, she saw that she was outside the run-down old restaurant where she had been on her first visit. The place was dark and deserted; it had obviously been empty for quite some time. The door had been violently broken down and boarded up, and sealed with the insignia of the Office of Law. Apparently the Enforcers had made a rare appearance and decided to shut the place down. Ari shook her head. It seemed that wherever she went, ruin and destruction had preceded her. She wandered aimlessly on, with little idea was headed and caring even less. Her lightweight clothes and did little to keep out the cold; only the heavy coat she wore offered any measure of protection. A sudden feeling of hopelessness welled up inside her and she stopped, unwilling to go any further. The ground around her was covered with mounds rubble and broken glass. A shallow pool of stagnant water had collected amidst the detritus, and this was covered with a thick sheet of ice that gleamed in the half-light like a crystal mirror. Ari was only dimly aware of her surroundings; the ache in her soul grew until it threatened to overwhelm her. She had to do something, anything, to make it stop; the pain cut stronger and deeper than anything she had ever felt before. Her breath came in ragged gasps, condensing into soft mist in the frigid air. Deliberately, she slipped off the sandals she wore and walked barefoot toward the ice patch, broken shards of glass and metal ripping unmercifully into her flesh. She welcomed the pain; it took away from ache inside her. She knelt down at the edge of the ice and shrugged her coat from her shoulders, feeling the cold cut like a knife through her thin shirt. She leaned over the ice and stared at the reflection of her face. The image she saw back was a pathetic sight; eyes that had once sparkled with life stared back at her listlessly with a dead, empty expression, windows to the soul beyond. By chance, a fragment of metal frozen in the ice formed a rough semicircle around the right eye and obscured a good portion of the cheekbone. Ari tore her gaze away and huddled down, shivering uncontrollably. The agony searing through her body dulled the pain in her soul somewhat, and the little relief it provided made her discomfort insignificant. She knew somewhere in the back of her mind that she was in danger of freezing to death, but she did not care. All that mattered was to make the pain go away.

“I’d give you five, maybe ten minutes before you freeze,” said a disinterested voice. Ari slowly raised her head and glanced dully at the speaker, then turned back to the pool.Abraxas sat on a pile of rubble about ten feet away, watching her with a hint of amusement.

“What do you care?” she asked flatly.

“I don’t. But I thought you might.”

“Why would I?”

“Because we both know you don’t really want to die,” he said softly. Ari raised her head to stare at him. Tears that she had been unable to suppress had frozen to her cheeks, forming a mask of shimmering crystal.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Abraxas continued. “I’ve seen it done countless times before in many different ways. In the Old World they used to cut themselves with knives. That’s not allowed any more, of course, so we’re forced to improvise. I’ve heard of some very creative methods, but I must admit you’re the first person I’ve heard of doing it this way. Very ingenious of you.”

Ari said nothing.

“As I was saying, you have a simple decision to make. You can sit there and freeze, or,” He stood up abruptly and pulled a hose away from a large metal device, which began spilling a pungent liquid onto the ground, “you can put your coat back on, and I’ll show you a better way to deal with your problems.” The blades of the Talon shot out and he slashed the side of the device, producing a shower of sparks. The liquid ignited, and a raging sheet of fire sprang up around him. Ari flinched as the heat from the explosion hit her, and she instinctively held up her arm to protect herself. Abraxas strode unharmed from the center of the inferno, picked her up without resistance, and carried her closer to the fire, setting her down gently close to the life-restoring warmth. Emotionally drained and half-dead from cold, she slipped smoothly into unconsciousness.

It was impossible to judge how long she had slept. She awoke with the distinct sensation of sharp objects digging into her back, and her body was stiff and cramped. She had been covered with her coat, and her shoes lay nearby. The fire was still burning briskly, although in a much more controlled manner. She sat up and glanced around, and noticed Abraxas standing with his back to her, gazing into the distance like a sentry. He took no notice of her as she put on her shoes and coat, stood up, and walked over to him. It wasn’t until she gently laid her hand on his shoulder that he turned his head just enough to see her, acknowledged her with a nod, then turned back. Ari moved to stand next to him, her hand still resting on his shoulder. He was nearly a head taller than she was, and she gently rested her head on his arm. He didn’t move.

“Thank you,” She whispered softly. He turned to look down at her, and she raised her head and forced a smile. He nodded.

“We should get inside before it gets dark,” he said flatly, and started walking briskly away. Ari went after him, and he slowed to match her pace. They walked silently, Ari limping slightly as the fresh wounds in her feet began to make themselves known. The pain in her heart had faded into an apathetic emptiness, and so she barely noticed that she had no idea where she was or that they were headed deeper into the bowels of the city. Presently they stopped before the entrance of a small concrete building with no windows and a single door of reinforced steel. Branded into the metal was a strange symbol consisting of a triangle with an “X” centered on the base. Ari caught her breath and looked up at Abraxas, but he didn’t notice. Instead, he reached out and hit the door three times with his gloved hand, producing a deep clanging sound.

“Who goes there?” Demanded a faint voice from the other side of the door in heavily accented Unison.

“A stranger from the east seeking that which was lost,” Abraxas responded in English. Ari was about to ask him to translate, but the door abruptly swung open and he gestured for her to enter, then stepped in behind her and shut the door behind him. 

The room they had entered was small and unfurnished, dimly lit by a weak incandescent light hanging from the low ceiling. On the floor in the opposite corner was a cast-iron structure that looked like the top of a stairway. The person who had let them in was standing behind the door. He was taller even than Abraxas, with a metal helmet over his head and a camera-like device over one eye. One of his arms ended in a large metal claw. Numerous cables snaked from his back, ending in smaller claws. A particularly large hydraulic arm arched over his head and supported a large drill-like device. As he saw Ari, he hissed in anger and reared up as if to strike, all his limbs ready. Fortunately for her, Abraxas stood between them and pacified the aggressor with a series of sharp words in a language she didn’t recognize. Her would-be assailant shrank back, but kept a wary eye on her as she and Abraxas descended the stairs to a second room below. This room was enormous, with walls and ceiling constructed of steel girders welded together in a complicated interlocking pattern. Bright spotlights placed at intervals along the walls divided the space into regions of intense light and abrupt shadow. The floor was littered with crates, scrap metal and all manner of machinery. A low electric hum indicated a generator nearby, and Ari guessed that they were very near the base of the force dome at the bottom of the city. She could see people moving among the machines, but could not make out what they were doing.

“Don’t worry about Scorpios,” Abraxas whispered as they reached the ground. “We’re all a little cautious about outsiders here, especially Overworlders. He won’t dare hurt you now, though. He knows full well what I could do to him.”

“What is this place?” Ari asked, not particularly reassured.

“You’ll know soon enough.” He gestured to a pile of crates scattered off to the side. “Sit.” Ari obeyed, not willing to argue. Abraxas dragged another crate over and sat a few feet away facing her.

“Goldstein called you the seeker, but I know not what you seek, save for a man called Abraxas. Him you have found, yet still you seek. What is it now that drives your search?”

“Who’s Goldstein?” Ari asked, more confused by his flowery language than the question itself.

“Better known to you as Old Praetorian, no doubt,” said Abraxas in an agitated tone. “What I want to know is what are you looking for? Why did you come back down here to find me again?”

Ari was just about to answer that he was wrong, that she hadn’t been looking for him this time, but suddenly she was not so sure of that fact herself. Why had she come to Cocytus, of all places, following the same road she had taken scant weeks before, if she had not been secretly hoping to find him? “I only wanted an answer,” she said softly.

“But you know the answer simply by realizing that there is a question.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You want to know why. Why there is such a thing as a Catalyst. Why your friends died. Why you’ve only ever really known six people in your entire life. And, I believe, you want to know why you and Adrian are still alive. Does that pretty much cover it?”

Ari nodded dumbly, still not understanding.

“The question you have asked is, ‘does it have to be this way?’ And in the process of asking, you must realize that for the question to make sense there must be another way. If there is another way, it doesn’t need to be how it is. Does that make sense?”

“I think so.” Actually, it did seem to make a twisted sort of sense. Her depression was beginning to be replaced by curiosity. “If it doesn’t have to be like this, then what’s the alternative?”

“This I believe you also know.”

“No, really, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do, but don’t realize it. Or rather, you don’t what to admit it, because it runs contrary to everything you now take for granted. The truth is, Ari, you can’t imagine any way of life other than the one you know now. So you’ll second-guess your instincts until someone else shoves it in your face. Don’t look at me like that; you know it’s true.”

“You’re probably right,” she sighed. “And I suppose you’re going to shove it in my face now. Is that correct?”

“Only if you want to see it. Do you?”

Ari hesitated a moment before whispering, “Yes.”

Abraxas nodded and shifted his attention off into the shadows along the wall next to them. Ari followed his gaze and was surprised to find that they were not alone. Standing facing away from them was a slight figure wearing an oversized, badly worn jacket. Long, dirty-blond hair, which had been badly cut at about shoulder-length, obscured any possible view of the face. Abraxas cleared his throat, and the figure turned slowly to face them. Ari gasped in shock and nearly fell off the crate. “KARA?”

It was indeed Kara, but she had changed almost beyond recognition. She seemed to have aged years since Ari had seen her collapse on the platform. The omnipresent smile was gone from her face, replaced with an expression of grim resolution. Her eyes were those of one who has endured a lifetime of pain and simply waits for death, all trace of the former mischievous glitter gone. These eyes fixed Ari with a cold stare, offering no trace of emotion or recognition.

“What are you doing here?” asked Ari, incredulous. Kara dropped her gaze but said nothing.

“Your friend has not yet found her voice,” said Abraxas softly. “She is still in the process of letting go. Her presence speaks for itself.” Then, to Kara, “You can go now.”

Kara nodded, then turned back to Ari and tried to smile. Her eyes spoke of such suffering that Ari almost wanted to cry just looking at her, but Kara’s eyes remained dry. Then she turned and slowly shuffled off into the darkness, quickly vanishing into the shadows.

“I thought she was dead,” said Ari at length, still staring after her friend.

“No. Even if she had remained in the state in which you saw her last, she would not be dead yet. Obviously, she has not.”

“I thought Dorian killed her on the platform that night.”

Abraxas shook his head. “The Catalyst has no power to kill outright. It is the victim that destroys himself.”

“That’s not true,” Ari interjected. “Aurora died of a broken heart. You saw the report yourself. That’s what always happens.”

“That’s what usually happens, although not always the same way. But you are mistaken about the medical examiner’s report. While it is true that the cause of death was a rupture of the heart muscle, it was not spontaneous. The report failed to mention that she stuck a knife in it first.”

Ari’s eyes widened. “Why…why would she do that?”

“She was driven by pain the likes of which you cannot begin to imagine,” Abraxas said darkly. “In the Old World they used to call it suicide. You have no word for it in Unison.”

“Why didn’t they report that then?”

“I believe there are two reasons. First, they don’t want to admit that it happens, and second, they don’t want to posthumously slander the victim.”

“Wraith didn’t do that, though, and she died,” Ari objected.

“Indeed she did not. That is what normally happens. The victim simply loses the will to live and slowly fades away. But either way, the Catalyst does not actually do anything to them. They do it to themselves. This is the secret to beating the Games—simply to realize that the penalty for losing is of your own devising and administered by you alone. Once you realize this, the Catalyst has no power over you.”

“Why do they do it, then? The Catalysts, I mean.”

“Power,” said Abraxas flatly. “Beyond that, no-one is certain, not even the Catalyst himself. Goldstein especially had many theories, and for the most part I agree with him. But I won’t bother you with that now.”

“No, please, tell me,” Ari pleaded. “I want to know what’s going on.”

“Very well.” He sat back and closed his eyes reflectively. “When Goldstein was a young man, about your age, he fell in love—in Unison that roughly translates to ‘playing Games’—with a girl in his circle. Yes, we do have circles down here, or at least we once did. At any rate, it was going along fine, rather like you and Adrian from what I understand. Do you follow?”

Ari nodded.

“Goldstein was a Drifter,” Abraxas continued. “Incidentally, this girl’s best friend—unfortunately I was never told their names—was also, and so the three of them left and went off to find another circle. They never did, because the friend turned out to be a Catalyst. Goldstein survived, as he didn’t care for her much anyway, but the other was not so fortunate. Driven to madness, she threw herself into a blast furnace.

“Normally the shock of that loss would have destroyed Goldstein, but some people’s spirits are stronger than others, and he escaped alive. However, the shock severely damaged his mind. He made himself believe that the Games had not existed in the Old World, that it was a result of the Pax Doctrine, and that artifacts from the Old World might show a way to either defeat the Catalysts or overthrow the Administration, or both. He became a wilderness scavenger, searching further and longer than any others, believing with his entire being that the answers lay buried in the ashes of the wasteland. One day, after a week of futile search, he fell to his knees in despair and cried out to whatever power there might be to hear him to send him an answer. That very day, as he wearily dragged himself back to the city, he discovered a young man lying in his path who had not been there before. You have heard this, have you not?”

“Yes, he told me.”

“The sign of the Delta Chi was his divine inspiration. He was to mount a crusade against the Pax Doctrine itself, the root of the problem as he saw it. He cast aside the name of Goldstein and became known as Praetorian, the warrior who would lead his army against the Office of Law—in those days, the Enforcers were in the earliest stages of experimentation, and human officers patrolled the streets. He gathered the fruits of his searches together with those who would follow him here, and began building his weapons and training his army in preparation to “resurrect the Second Horseman,” as he called it. In short, he wanted to make violence legal again.”

“But why?” Ari asked, too shocked to say more. She had been taught that violence was the most terrible invention that humans would ever be capable of producing. That it had even been legal once was hard enough to imagine. That someone would want it legal again was beyond her comprehension.

“To understand his logic you must understand his theory,” said Abraxas, somewhat amused by her response. “Before the War, many people thought of violence as you do now. They believed that the abolishment of weapons, particularly guns—do you know what those were? Never mind then, it’s not important—would end all violence on its own. This was the thinking behind the Pax Doctrine, the Laws of Peace. Those people believed that people were naturally inclined to be nice to each other, and that this weapon was somehow responsible for what the wielder did with it…I don’t really understand the argument. It never interested me when Goldstein tried to explain it. At any rate, the Pax Doctrine was written—but as you may or may not know, it was written in stages. First it only abolished military weapons, such as nuclear missiles—you don’t know what those were either, do you? —and guns. After that citizens began killing each other with knives, so it was modified to outlaw knives, then almost immediately all bladed weapons such as hatchets and pickaxes were added to the same clause—I’ll let you try and figure out why. It’s not pretty.”

Ari shuddered.

“After that, people started killing each other with bows and arrows—tell me you know what those are. No? Don’t they teach you anything anymore? Never mind. Anyway, after they started beating each other with clubs and rocks, the Administration put its foot down and outlawed violence in any way, shape, or form. But the natural desire to kill, or at least to injure, did not die along with the weapon. Praetorian at least believes that the people who were killing simply found better methods, methods not covered by the law. They became the Catalysts.

“The theory as to why is of my own devising. It is, as I said, Power. The driving force behind every action of every human is the desire for power, whether conscious or not. Don’t shake your head at me. Why does your friend Adrian want to sacrifice his mind, his friends, and his humanity? Why did you risk your life to come search for me at our first meeting? Why, indeed, are you here right now? You desire power over the Games, over your own mind, and you will sacrifice anything—your circle, your friends, even yourself—to get it. The Catalyst is no different; he desires power over others. When he works his way into the heart of his victim, he becomes like God—he holds that life in his hands. He has the power, with a word, to crush that life beneath his feet. And power is useless if it is not used.”

“Is that how you feel when you punch your Talon through a still-beating heart and drink the blood as it pours out?” Ari snapped.

“In a word, yes. It is a great satisfaction to be the whale that swallows the fisherman, the hunter that devours the predator, the player who beats the master at his own Games,” said Abraxas dryly. “But you don’t begrudge me what I did. You would have done the same if you had the strength.”

Ari was silent. He was right, of course. She had seen Kara’s face as she fell, and in that moment would have gladly ripped out Dorian’s heart with a screwdriver. Only fear of the Enforcers had stopped her, and forced her to stop Adrian. As she thought back, she suddenly realized that, although the Enforcers had come, they had done nothing to Abraxas. She opened her mouth to ask how he had survived, but he had anticipated the question. He raised his arm, and Ari heard as soft metallic swish as the blades of the Talon extended. He rotated his wrist slowly, watching the light glance off the shining steel. Then he turned his gaze back to her.

“I’m not afraid of the Enforcers,” he said softly. The blades retracted and he lowered his arm. “Should I continue the story?”

Ari had thought the story was over. She nodded hastily.

“Praetorian spent many years gathering his forces, but he knew he could never lead the army alone. He was growing old, and his sanity had not improved. He resigned himself to believe that he was chosen only as the instigator, that the torch must be passed to another who would complete the revolution.I was his choice to succeed him. He knew I bore the mark of the Delta Chi and that, even as he had aged, I remained young and strong. But I did not share his beliefs that the crusade was necessary; In fact, I had endeavored to be an ordinary citizen, bound under the law as one born here, and would not accept the position. Before he could convince me, the first prototypes of the Enforcers were created and pressed into service. Praetorian saw this as the sign to strike, and led his army personally into combat. They were defeated, the army destroyed, their weapons taken and soldiers killed or imprisoned, but Praetorian himself escaped at the cost of an eye and the use of one leg. From that day on, he has considered himself a failure and has never forgiven himself for leading the attack himself against divine mandate, or me for refusing leadership. And, as far as anyone could see, that was the end of it.

“It would have been the end, save for a certain female Catalyst whose name I have not bothered to remember. I was a naïve civilian, as you are, and never gave any thought to the ramblings of an insane old man about gloom and doom. I refused to believe in the Games, as you do, and I paid the price. But my spirit was strong, and I did not die. I was consumed by pain as you were, on the brink of madness, when I suddenly realized the truth I just related to you moments ago. My pain was replaced by anger, a rage so intense as I had never felt before, fury of such strength that you could not begin to imagine it. I was consumed with a desire to injure, to wound, to rend and destroy. I found out later that took an iron bar the width of my arm and with it destroyed a backup power generator, but I was aware of nothing at the time save my fury. An Enforcer found me thus armed and in that state, and proceeded to attack. My rage was turned against him, and I cast my weapon aside and attacked him barehanded. Enraged as I was, I could not penetrate his armor, and he fought with great strength and skill. His bladed arm took my hand at the wrist, and then took the side of my face. As I lay there with my lifeblood pooling around me, and as my enemy moved in to take my life, something awoke in me that had long been forgotten. I rose to my feet and found I knew how to turn his blows, and where and how to strike him in return. Crippled as I was, he could not lay hand on me, as I knew his every move. My anger kept me alive as I beat him back to lip of a raging furnace. There I tore from him his weapon and cast him into the fire. There I was found, lying as though dead, and brought to an institution for healing.” He pulled the black glove off his left hand as he spoke, revealing a skeletal metal prosthetic. “At my request they fixed the Talon to my arm, for none dared oppose me. When I left that place, I came here, to the ruin of Praetorian’s old fortress and the remnants of his army. I cast aside my name, and never thought on it again. In a collection of books that Praetorian had found of the Old World I discovered a name, a name that represents the culmination of the breaking of a world to achieve a new level of understanding. That is the name by which I am now known.”

Ari was too shocked to speak. As far as she knew, it was impossible to kill an Enforcer, yet here was a man who claimed to have done nothing less, and with his bare hands. “Praetorian said you had those injuries when he found you,” She finally managed.

“Praetorian knows nothing of that encounter. His mind is so deranged that, when I told him I would join him, he could not remember if I had had those wounds previously. Since he allowed himself to believe that I could not be injured in any way, he assumed I must have always been like this.”

“So you did join him then.”

“No, I did not. I had no more faith in his ranting than before, but I needed his army to begin my own crusade. Not against the Administration, but against the Catalyst himself. Praetorian did not agree but could not object, for the name I had chosen was of great significance to him. It was the name of a god, and indeed he this is how he had begun to see me, the incarnation of the power that had inspired his foolish campaign in the first place, and so his confidence in me was complete, however misguided. As I knew then, if the Catalyst were given back his weapon he would proceed to kill as he always had. He must be denied both his weapon and his victim, and that is what was built here, in this place.” He stood up and made a wide, sweeping gesture with his arms. “Behold, the bane of the Catalyst. Here is the circle he can never touch, where hearts are closed to his deceit. Here is the circle of the future, the circle that will see the fall of the Games.”

Ari stood and glanced around, but saw nothing that caught her attention. She turned back to him with a confused expression.

Abraxas leaned over and spoke softly directly at her face. “Trust, Ari. Trust is the key. Trust is the weapon of the Catalyst, the door into your heart. Before anything else, you must trust him. Before then, he can do nothing. Any person, however kind and well intentioned he or she may seem, is potentially a Catalyst. You have no way of knowing before it is too late, and so you must suspect everyone. Everyone. Do you understand?”

Ari nodded.

“That is what we have created here. In this circle we do not take each other for granted. We do not hold any one higher in our eyes than any other, and we are ready and willing to turn against any of our number as enemy should the need arise. We suspect each other continuously and are suspected in return.”

“I don’t understand. You’re not making sense. Can you say that any other way?”

Abraxas paused. “I’m not sure,” he said at length. “You simply don’t know the words. I mean, there aren’t any words in Unison to describe the…wait a minute, let me say it this way. Do you understand how the Games are played?”

“Somewhat. I’ve seen whole scientific theories on it, but they’re all really vague and contradictory.”

“Let me explain, then. Most circles, like yours, are a small group of people who depend completely on each other, whether they realize it or not. This is the circle in its most stable form; however, it is not possible for ordinary people to exist in this state. People relate to individuals, not to social abstractions. Does that make sense?”

“What’s a social abstraction?”

“The circle itself. As long as you exist in a circle, it doesn’t matter who the individuals are that make it up. That is the philosophy of the Drifters, and it is also what we have tried to create here, although we move a step further, as you will see.

“As I said, people cannot relate to the circle itself, but rather to the individual members that make up the circle. This itself constitutes Games, but most do not realize it. They call it ‘friendship.’ Normally this bond exists between all members of any given circle, and is not especially dangerous. All individuals are significant, but not so much as to have satisfying results if the bond is terminated.

“The Game becomes more intense when a pair or group forms their own circle within the circle, if you will. These people are still friends with everyone in the circle, but they form a closer friendship within their smaller group. Depending on the individual, this may or may not provide the opportunity for the Catalyst to strike. Unless the victim is especially weak-spirited, or overly trustful, the Catalyst must be able to…I suppose one could say ‘fake’ the friendship, or risk doing as much damage to themselves as to their victim when the bond is severed. Therefore, this is not common, but usually effective.

“Neither of these are the Games as you have been taught to know them. You are familiar with the most common, and the most deadly, version. Can you tell me what it is?”

Ari shrugged. “A couple of the opposite sex?”

“Exactly. You have no word for it in Unison. In the Old World it was called love. The nearest translation, other than playing Games, refers to a close friendship and has no romantic connotation. You know exactly what this is like, and I don’t need to describe it. Suffice to say that one person meets another and for some reason they are strongly attracted to each other, and they become so absorbed in each other that they unknowingly become fully dependent on each other. Sometimes this is the end of the story, and the Game is beaten. More likely, however, one of the partner’s feelings of attraction toward the other will begin to fade, if it even ever really existed in the first place, while the other remains obliviously devoted. You know the rest.”

“So how did that…whatever that word was…work in the Old World?” Asked Ari.

“Exactly the same way. That’s the irony of it. The people of the Old World glorified this thing called love, gave it supernatural attributes. Love could, among other things, end wars, unite enemies, and bring back the dead. There are whole volumes from Old World literature devoted to the subject. There are an equal number of volumes about men and women fighting, dying, killing each other, and pining away unto death for the sake of love. This supernatural phenomenon that was supposed to provide an alternative to fighting, indeed to end it, brought about more pain and desolation than any number of wars combined. For, as you yourself have experienced, physical pain is nothing compared to the agony of a broken heart. Finally someone came to his senses about the subject and realized that this love was nothing more than intensified friendship and, when Unison was created, the translators agreed with him and did not translate the old word for love, but created a new word that you now use in its place.”

“So they actually used to kill each other that way?”

“Yes! Despite what you have learned, not all Old World people killed each other wantonly with weapons. Most were as loathe to use them as you are. But that one weapon was readily available to all, and no laws governed its use. The Catalyst is not a creation of our age; he has existed ever since humans became emotionally advanced enough to be attracted to each other. The fatalities, however, were far less than they are now. The people of the Old World were exposed to violence to such an extent that their minds became callused and non-reactive compared to ours. While we go into shock if exposed to emotionally traumatic situations, they generally did not. They were hurt, certainly, but did not die. Their emotions were better suited to recover.”

“So what does all this have to do with your little circle here?”

“I told you, we attempt to maintain a circle at its most basic level. However, the key to success lies in stopping the whole process before it starts. Humans are under the delusion that they need others to survive; they will therefore form friendships to fulfill this ‘need.’ This thinking must be destroyed. Emotions are humanity’s natural weakness; they are the check placed on us to preserve natural order. Given intelligence, humans became lords over all other creatures and none could destroy them because of the devices they fashioned to protect themselves. So it was that, along with intelligence came emotion, which caused them to turn on each other. Think about it, Ari. What war, what feud, what argument, what conflict was started by reason alone? Emotions flare, jealousy, anger, bitterness, and self-righteousness come to life, and the human race, otherwise safe at the top of the food chain, turns to destroy itself. These emotions will be the death of us, Ari. Work against them. They are strong, but they can and must be resisted. Emotion will inevitably bow to reason. So it was that we came to depend not on each other, not even on the circle, but only ourselves for ‘emotional’ support, for there are no others who can be trusted. We are, in effect, a society of Drifters which, if it were dissolved tomorrow, would have no effect whatsoever on the individual members.”

Ari was puzzled. “So you’re saying that what I feel for Adrian isn’t real? And not only that, but it’s bad? How does that work?”

“Oh, it’s real. It’s very real, as I fear you will find out all too soon. However, it is only real in your mind. There is no physical bond that holds you together; it exists only in your heart, and that is where the only effect will be when that bond is broken. You and I both know that that will destroy you. In that light, yes, it is bad. But you have the power to dissolve that bond yourself, simply by realizing that it does not exist. When that happens, you will be safe.”

Ari thought for a moment. “No,” she said finally. “No. I could never do that to Adrian. Because there is a bond in his heart, too, and it would kill him for me to break it.”

Abraxas’ eyes narrowed. “Child!” he hissed. “Open your eyes! That bond is dissolving as we speak. Already you have sensed that he is drawing away from you. And do you really believe that he will cast his dreams aside for your sake? Your circle is gone. He may stand by you until he completes his training, but what then? He will throw you aside like a broken toy. Your choice is simple; if you want to live, you must turn on him before he turns on you. If you do not, you will die. If you do…” He paused.

“Then what?” asked Ari softly.

“Then you will be on your own, and your future will be in your hands. You can drift and begin the whole process over again, or you can join our circle here and be free of the Games forever. The choice will be yours.”

“Ari slumped down in her seat, feeling suddenly very old and tired. “I want to go home,” she whispered, her voice quavering. Abraxas nodded.

“I will take you as far as the border. You can find your way from there. Should you wish to find me again, you know where to look. I will know and I will find you. Now go home and rest, for you have a difficult choice to make.”

Ari lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, as the monotone whisper of the Psychonomicon filled her ears. She knew the machine would work most effectively if she was asleep, but she did not bother to turn it off. The abstract lines of information ringing in her ears provided welcome interruption from her troubled thoughts, and sleep was out of the question.

“The Administration was created by the survivors of the War and the millennial holocaust that followed to guard their New World against the failings of their ancestors, to ensure that never again would the human race be cloven by the horror of war…”

“The horror of war which pales in comparison to the horror of existence. In war we know our enemy. Now the enemy walks among us unseen.”

“…From the ashes of desolation was forced a mighty pact that sealed the doom of the art of war. The document we call the Pax Doctrine is the fabric that holds our world together, that binds us close to each other and makes us stronger than any that preceded us. It is the duty of the Administration to see that that fabric remains unblemished and secure, lest we suffer the fate of our forefathers…”

“The Office of Law. The Administration is the Office of Law. Those whose sacred duty it is to suppress violence instead drag its stench through our streets and carry its shadow to our cities. They fight fire with fire, and the fire will consume them. The Administration plays with fire because it needs the fire. The Catalyst plays with fire because he needs the fire. Power is like fire. Love is like power. The Catalyst plays with love because he needs love. I play with love because I need love. I am a Catalyst.”

“…Without violence, there can be no pain, no suffering, no needless death.”

“While love exists there will always be pain, suffering, and needless death. I am a Catalyst because I need love. Love does not exist except in my mind. I need what does not exist. I do not need what does not exist.”

“…When we destroyed the weapon, violence died with it. Freed from the oppression of the tools of war, the natural goodness of humanity was free to spread…”

You destroyed the weapon, but the actions lived on. You erased the word, but the actions lived on. I play with fire because I need the fire. I do not need what does not exist. The fire does not exist. The fire must not exist or it will consume me .The fire exists, but in my mind it must not. The Catalyst wields fire. I run from the fire in terror and seek shelter in flames. Out! Out!”

“…for if the means to an end does not exist, there can be no desire towards that end…”

“The desire will never die while the fire still burns. As long as there is desire, a means will be found.”

“…and desire towards that end is to root of all violence, all strife, indeed all the ills of humanity…”

“Love is the new means towards the end. The desire will never die, and while love exists so shall all ills of humanity exist. Love is the most terrible weapon of all.”

Ari finally drifted into a troubled sleep, but the soft drone of the Psychonomicon did not stop. Eventually, the history of the Administration came to an end, and the second subject she had requested began to play. It was very simple; she only wanted to know the meanings and background of a certain name.

“…The name Abraxas refers to a fictional deity of Old World literature who was in equal parts good and evil, not a combination of the two but wholly encompassing both, being simultaneously in nature holy and demonic, neither nature influencing or detracting from the other…”

Ari lay there, oblivious to the words being firmly implanted in her memory. She slept soundly now, untroubled dreams or worries. She had made her choice.

Pulsing blue light filled the room, the air was filled with the crackle of electricity and the acrid smell of ozone. Ari bolted awake, screaming in surprise and pain as an unmercifully loud roar of static stabbed deep into her brain. She ripped the helmet off her head and staggered to the door, Later she would be grateful that she had chosen to sleep in her clothes, but now she was too confused and frightened to think of anything. She ran blindly down the stairs and outside, then stopped and stared in awe at the sight that greeted her. The sky above her was alive with writhing blue tongues of fire, bolts of lightning hundreds of miles long arced over the city and disappeared over the horizon. The entire city was dark save for the eerie flickering blue light from the fiery chaos above. Sirens wailed, people ran in panicked groups through the streets, Enforcers swarmed everywhere, trying to keep order. Ari soon gathered from fragments of overheard remarks that the breaking ion storm had been more powerful than anticipated, and had come close enough for lightning to strike the force dome. The generators were failing, she could see the fires from the generators as they overloaded and the coils exploded. Someone grabbed her from behind, and she turned to find herself face to face with Adrian.

“What do we do?” She yelled, struggling to be heard over the storm.

“We go down!” Adrian yelled back, gesturing towards the ground as he spoke. “The dome could go down any minute. We’ll be safer in Cocytus.” He grabbed her hand and began to run towards the entry point.. Ari followed, trying her best to keep up. The elevators were not working, of course, so they had to climb down through the maze of ladders and scaffolding that held up the platform. Enforcers were everywhere, ensuring that no one took advantage of the confusion to start an uprising. They reached the Underworld, and now Ari led the way, running along the path she had come to know well, until at last they came to the dilapidated old restaurant. Adrian broke open the door with a powerful blow from his shoulder, and they huddled down in the darkness as the storm broke far above them. Later they would hear about how the dome flashed brighter than the sun before it collapsed, and how people caught in the open were atomized in an instant as the charged particles in the atmosphere tore their bodies apart, and how the lightning set entire city blocks ablaze and reduced soaring skyscrapers to molten slag. But the lightning could not penetrate the city this deep, and the ions were neutralized long before they drifted down into the depths of Cocytus, and so for the time being they could only sit and wonder and fear for their lives.

Because she was sitting with her eyes tight shut, knees clasped to her chest, Ari was not aware of the fact that, when Adrian presently stood and walked across the room, that he was no longer beside her, nor did she realize that they were no longer alone until she heard Adrian address the newcomer, who responded in a familiar voice. She opened her eyes to see Adrian standing in the center of the room addressing Abraxas, who leaned casually against the doorframe.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, more curious than accusing.

“Waiting,” came the reply.

“Waiting for what?

Abraxas did not reply, but turned to look straight at Ari. Adrian followed his eyes, then turned back to him sharply.

“What do you want with her?”

Abraxas slowly looked back at him, meeting his gaze with a level stare. “Nothing.”

Adrian turned to look at Ari, who hastily scrambled to her feet. “What’s going on? Do you know what this is about?”

“Adrian, I…” she paused and looked desperately at Abraxas, but he had taken an intense interest in something outside and did not look at her. “I need to tell you…I know you want to be an Enforcer and all that, and…well, the circle is gone, and I…I can’t keep playing with fire anymore, you under…stand?” Her voice trailed off, and she looked at him helplessly. Adrian’s eyes narrowed.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m sorry, Adrian,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m sorry. You would have done it to me. You would have had to. I can’t…we couldn’t…” She stopped and turned away, fully expecting tears to spring to her eyes., but to her surprise none came. She turned back and stared miserably at the floor.

Adrian stared at her in shock. His mouth opened and closed, as if he was trying to speak, but no sound came. Suddenly gave a strangled cry and rounded on Abraxas, who snapped his head around to face his attacker.

“You.” Adrian’s voice was strained, yet cold and steady. “You put her up to this!” He stepped forward menacingly.

Abraxas stood up straight and faced him squarely. “Her choice and actions were her own,” he said evenly. “I could not force her, only show the way.”

With surprising speed and strength, Adrian hurled himself into Abraxas, knocking him outside and onto his back, then staggered out after him. Ari, terrified but helpless, ran to the door to watch. As Abraxas climbed to his feet, Adrian seized a long, pointed, iron bar and charged at him, slamming the weapon with all his strength against his right cheekbone. The force of the impact twisted his head sideways with a sickening crack, and he fell limply to the ground, scant feet from where Ari stood. Adrian stood over him, raised the bar above his head, and drove the pointed end down through his chest with all his strength. There was a dull metallic thud, and the bar was wrenched from Adrian’s hands as he staggered backward. Gleaming amidst the mass of bloody tissue, Ari saw the shining metal implant that served as Abraxas’ heart before he reached out, seized the bar, and wrenched it from his chest. She watched as he slowly pulled himself to his feet and cast the bar aside. His metal faceplate had been badly dented and a trickle of blood ran down his abdomen, but he seemed otherwise undamaged as he turned to face Adrian, who stood watching with wide, unbelieving eyes.

Adrian quickly recovered from his surprise and charged Abraxas again, clearly intending to kill him with his bare hands if necessary. However, for all his Enforcer’s training he could not penetrate his opponent’s defenses.Abraxas never struck, although in his fury Adrian allowed him many an opportunity, but merely deflected every blow. So it continued, until three Enforcers arrived and seized Adrian and bound his hands, at which point the fight left him and he did not resist as they began to lead him away. Abraxas stood and watched him, but it was to Ari that he finally raised his eyes, and they spoke of sorrow and defeat.

“I would have given it up for you,” He whispered, and then he turned away and allowed the Enforcers to take him away, never looking back. Ari watched them go, expecting pain to sear her heart at any moment, surprised that it did not come. She felt a strange lack of emotion, although she knew full well what would happen to him. He would be taken to trial, found guilty of committing violence, and most likely terminated.

She turned to look at Abraxas, who met her gaze for a moment, then turned and began to walk away, along the road that led down into Cocytus. Ari watched him for a moment, then turned her eyes to the path by which she had come. She knew she had to make a choice, but she also knew that there was only one choice to make. Without a backward glance, she turned to follow Abraxas into the future she had chosen, into the only future where there could truly be peace.

The End