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He is able to stumble toward The Four Zero outer barrier and falls to the floor
outside the black onyx wall. Aloysius alerted to a possible core failure is outside with a medical kit already aghast at his own and Mr. Eight’s behavior. A tourniquet
around his arm he sutures the wound closed strapping a pressure bandage over the palm. Sitting cross legged besides The Pilot he opens the S.X. Skytrax’s official ship’s chronometer and sees the vessels momentum is ticking away in synch with the
natural time of the tonic scales. The double running Circle of Fifths separating the perfect scales and the well-tempered scales; has tangled, snarled, and snapped the harmonic system of paradome lightmachs, intraphasing the information speeds from
instantaneous to pure zero: the collapse is a quickly settling soon to become frozen snapshot of The Totality.
Inside the core ATM is satisfied the Eternal Presence is safely recorded and stored in the monument. He dispatches ten thousand ships to the odd numbered stacking slots by the twenty consoles fronting the Four Zero Barrier. The remaining four hundred
and eighty ships are positioned on the X-Corridor that is the keel of the S.X. Skytrax’s circular hull. He jettisons the giant ten mile wide flying wing the
central disk rests in and prepares to exit The Construct.
Rising to a seated position ATM lifts himself until standing on the monument clearing the ceiling of arc outs and crumbling lightmach set assignments. The ten thousand ships dock and ATM walks up the four substratum stairs above Platform One stopping
three feet away from Trevor and Player One. The young native touches his right index and middle finger to his heart sweeping it away in a broad arcing motion and ATM reciprocates and then nods. Trevor puts his hand out to shake hands and
The ATM salutes
him. The greyish brows, straight nose and chin line briefly visible. He lifts the floating ring back onto its axis and reclines into contemplation.
Pierce suddenly wakes in the van realizing something is wrong. Trevor left and
has not returned. Alex hearing a sudden flutter of motion is awakened and he nudges Harris. “I’m awake.”
McBain arises in mid turn an electric jolt arching his spine. Sure he fell asleep by accident and almost foolhardily fell into the Grand Canyon on his first visit. Opening his mouth to cry out: no sound issues forth. He remembers
the horror of the
light in the dark striking him from the sky in his dream; then slipping on the roots of the tree. He tries to call out but there’s still no sound.
Hearing Daniels and Mathias scurrying down the hard scrabble incline he waits
for assistance.
They appear out of darkness, the moon still not risen; closing fast. Trevor points to the distant horizon “Look! Just look!” McBain made little progress and is a few scant feet from a deep free fall into the canyon. They approach their incoherent
associate cautiously. Pierce and Alex stand on either side of Trevor resting on
a small patch of level gravel. Unable to speak again he points.
Standing three abreast looking north across the great emptiness three strange
lights the size of
their fists at arm’s length appear at fifteen degrees above the horizon and many miles away.
Trevor watches The Mystery pulsing slowly out of synch with each other. Looking
left he knows by the shocked expression that Pierce Daniels can see and feel the powerful presence. A quick glance at Alex Mathias tells him that he sees them to. Able to
speak again and shaking his head he says out loud. “Doctor Ruhig’s going to
have a tough time wrapping his head around this!”
Looking with satisfaction at the immobilized paralytic expression on Alex’s
face he whispers to his traveling companion three times, “I’m not crazy.”
Turning to Daniels he does the same thing again watching as Pierce stares at the radiant
spectral anomaly incapacitated. Trevor feels relief.
For reasons unknown Trevor lifts his arms slightly and both of his associates
slip an arm through his. Standing three abreast arms linked they witness the restart point of The Construct.
The fortress assigned to consortium observers on the right side of the four unit line makes a tight ninety degree turn once inside the sealed gate on lightmach-24. It remains kitty cornered diagonal to the gate to protect it. The
other three fortresses
walk abreast halfway down the hill stopping to quantify how much motion they have consumed. On board the Body Fortress they are approximately one thousand feet in the air looking downward at a small fieldstone stadium with four restaurant courtyards
outside the main exits. In the center of the inner amphitheater there is an octagonal structure with a smaller octagon floating above it. The entire surroundings they are immersed in; is a spherical diamond with a one mile diameter.
Two one hundred thousand divisions circle the Body Fortress that is positioned at the halfway point. Inside the blast zone the white light can’t penetrate. They carry their own which can be seen by the clear and dark light. Two fortresses and one
million troops inch their way forward.
The stadium, the amphitheater, and every desk surrounding The Octagon are filled except for one. This trap was designed to incarcerate a large number of players. High above the mobile fortresses, the ad hoc dome that formed when The
Zero surged outward
is littered with debris from unsuccessful attempts to blast a path into the giant crystal skull of failed computations.
The two fortresses diverge towing half a million troops per unit; one to the south key and one to the east key. The Octagons floor is a four pie slice configuration that opens a hairs width to inject a core of zero circles and points into a magnetic
pit; that powers the thirty-six primitive consoles.
When the containment device gave way the horizon expanded until it achieved equilibrium.
A black hole is a two dimensional circle that contains a one dimensional Origin
Point. The devastation at The Octagon is many two dimensional spheres unable to
unwind to a circle or line.
Whatever happened inside the blast zone has never actually happened in the real
natural world.
Pierce and Alex are remaining silent holding McBain’s arms. Each great engine is pulsing at a different speed. The one on the left accelerates and evanesces into The Totality of The Construct.
It is operating at every speed, from absolute zero motion to instantaneous; able to expand to the size of The Construct, and contract to the size of a grain of sand, and far smaller to a sizeless object; instantly injecting and subtracting: ideas,
objects, beings, events and locations without resistance. Each great engine is a complete mirror of The Construct in minute detail, recording itself and reducing those recordings to sizelessness, establishing an infinite storage capacity. McBain is back
to feeling extremely relaxed, almost whimsical again, but he maintains the presence of mind to stay alert and try to absorb every detail.
At the Harland building Michelle has shopped and cooked a pot roast and a two
layer lemon cake covered by chocolate frosting, hand sifting the sugar to insure there are no lumps. She is tidying up Pierce’s apartment., finding no
place to put the
barrels full of numbered Polaroid’s from Doc’s most recent experiment; photographing the replacement of the forty foot steeple above the bell house, on the church across the street. She remembers the tiny enclosed indoor fire escape, complete with
perpetual lighting, a radiator on each floor above each landing’s window, and
space just wide enough for one person to walk down in an emergency. The door is
half the width of a normal closet. Fumbling with the floor bolt and side bolt she leans into
it and it springs outward. A dread covers her when she sees Doc his been emptying the Polaroids barrel by barrel into the same hiding place she considered using. The midget sized hidden escape route is now filled from the ground floor fire door to the
fifth floor with only three stairs remaining.
She wants to cry but hears Mr. Eight approach. She leaves the barrels and closes the fire door.
Eight is carrying the paperboy’s bag loudly singing a sonorous, “ Lydia the
Tattooed Lady.”
Three medium sized computation engines appear outside the diamond lattice equilibrium containment sphere. The AR20 Commanders can see Trevor has succeeded where everyone else has failed. Juzya Kydd and Azrok Steppe decide to
capitalize on the increased
mobility. Each examines one of the unmanned giant steel keys locking the floor of the octagonal dungeon at the west and north. The new engines formulate a forcible ingress and enter the toxic submergence.
Two engines orbit The Octagon counter-clockwise and one orbits clockwise. They trace out a circle spiraling through each other. Accurate records of the invaders allow the engines to recreate each person continuously; restoring freedom of motion within
a perimeter of eight hundred yards of The Octagon in all directions. Aloysius transmits the keystrokes for the metal keys and they are withdrawn from their slots; until they rest in the levering position used to part the four slices.
McBain watches the far left engine reappear and synchronize its oscillation rate with the middle engine until their visual pulsations are exact. Both prodigious unfathomable engines withdraw.
Trevor looks at both Alex Mathias and Pierce Daniels for eight to ten very long
seconds each. He is still so relieved they are witnessing this phenomenon that he is not overly concerned for their emotional or physical well-being. They remain arms locked
watching the slowest engine.
Mr. Eight knocks on Pierce’s door with comportment and a polite demeanor. He is wearing a soft blue cotton coat, covered with baseball patches, from the American and National leagues, above freshly washed, slightly worn, flared blue
jeans, half
covering a new pair of desert boots.
Michelle is wearing a thin white cashmere sweater and a black silk dress above medium cut black leather heels. Mr. Eight genuinely, “Something smells good.” Michelle politely, “Thanks.”
She leads him into the kitchen and he relaxes seeing the same kitchen table he has splattered Pierce and Alex’s brains across a few thousand times per player. Michelle serves him dinner.
Savoring a home cooked meal Mr. Eight affects a theatrical flourish cleaning the tasty gravy off the plate with his index finger. Michelle is smiling mischievously eyes wide, “Are you ready?”
Eight stands up finally removing his jacket hanging it on the chair. Michelle retrieves the implements of destruction from a parlor cabinet. A sheet across the floor with a padded bar stool atop it Mr. Eight mounts his diminished throne. Michelle puts a
towel snuggly around his neck and using freshly sharpened sewing shears reduces
his shoulder length hair to a boy’s regular cut in short order. Dusting him off she points to the bathroom door concealing a freshly scrubbed claw footed bathtub with two
feet of warm water. Michelle cleans up while Mr. Eight enters his bath. A triple toot of Templeton’s horn on the street five floors below announces an early arrival
for Lisa and Aurian. Michelle tosses the keys out of the kitchen window into the garden where Tatianni breaks their fall and retrieves them. Miss Faversham’s presence is a pleasant surprise.
The arrival at The Octagon of the three engines, spurs a change of strategy, with The Old Chief
bringing all four Body Fortresses under the engines, circling the broken clock:
to recharge them. With: Kydd and Dormante at the south key, Mercurius and Azrok
at the east key, The Old Chief and Augustus at the West key, Maurice and Moses at the east key;
the men in unison push the levers in a slow circle counter-clockwise raising each quarter of the granite deck opening a small path at the center. A bright light shines on and off from below. Scrambling to the aperture above the chamber; the rescue team
receives two flight bags with live infants, a bowling ball size black spherical
diamond, with the system failure logs and memory dump recordings, before a young native boy, carrying a soft black leather gripsack, hoists himself out of
the fractured
vacuity of The Octagon’s breached lightmach set producing chasm. Major Danes the effect of the sedative wearing off sees the grotesque undulating one mile sized face staring from the western perimeter.
The mouse escapes the trap with the cheese; waving a sturdy pouch filled with
numbered gemstones removed from the Zero Point reactor’s shell liner. He hand
signals to The Old Chief it is safe to close the covert cavity and tighten the keys back into
their shafts. Sister Francis exits the southern Body Fortress grabs hold of the two crying flight bags and beats a hasty retreat back inside. The grotesque
phantasmagoria staring at the rescue party from above has unsettled her nerves and she is ready
to go home. The children in her care dream nightmares of DATAFACE.
Back on lightmach-23 at the Harland Building Michelle is trying to wash Mr. Eight’s hair.
Bemoaning Pierce’s acquisition of the amber books, “A careless watch invites the thief.”
“All cats are grey in the dark.” Michelle implying the books know how to defend themselves.
“A close mouth catches nae flees.” Mr. Eight is warming up for an argument about assets.
Michelle knowing the boys arguments fill libraries. "A shut mouth keeps me out of strife."
“A cock's aye crouse on his ain midden-head.” Mr. Eight blusters he is The Boss of Bosses.
Michelle is satisfied there previous agreements stand, "A cock is valiant on his own dunghill.”
“A' complain o' want o' siller, but nane o' want o' sense.” Mr. Eight approves of the settlement.
Challenging Mr. Eight to contain DATAFACE “A coward's fear maks a brave man
braver,”
“A crackit bell will never mend.” The Octagon is annihilated, Vulchario’s supply lines are cut.
“A' cracks mauna be trew'd.” Michelle thinks Dr. Vulchario’s monster may be unstoppable.
“A clean synd's better than a dirty dry.” Mr. Eight protesting; let this bath restore your faith.
"A clean thing's kindly," quo' the wife when she turned her sark after a month's wear.”
“All that is heard must not be believed.” Eight nervously knows Faversham
is approaching.
“A crafty man's ne'er at peace.” Michelle lets go satisfied her fears have been soundly heard.
He waves her out of the bathroom dressing quietly wishing the hatch next door
was readied.
The two synchronized engines reappear and Alex and Pierce’s arms grow momentarily limp and fall away as each man becomes alert again. The fundamental
triad of The Great Mystery reconvening over the Grand Canyon begins balancing the three versions of
The Construct using the slowly oscillating reference engine on the right; as an
accurate measure of what existed prior to the stalemate between Mr. Eight and The Owl. Adjustments calculated and stored, the final outcome assigns; three small engines to
aid demolition of the blast zone created by The Octagon.
Minor insignificant battleground accommodations were made to contested citadels, barriers, blockades, and strongholds: so Michelle could officially relinquish total consortium command of The Organized World Liberation (OWL) and
its subsidiaries; to
Professor Vladimir Vulchario.

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