Where am I? It wasn't the first time his thoughts strayed to this single question. His attention was pulled to the bus driver who spoke in German over a crackling intercom with shorting speakers - then to the odd, fluffy cat that wandered up and down the isle, meowing piteously.

     Maouri once had a cat like that - Treebeard she called it. It had reminded her of the beloved Ents in Tolkien's fiction. Though how his wife had crossed a tree and a cat was beyond him. The last time he'd seen Treebeard was that horrible morning...

     "Are you ready to begin?"

     The voice came unexpectedly and clearly - to his right. Mac turned to see Mark sitting beside him. Gone was the Versace suit, replaced by a rough-hewn hooded robe of chocolate brown. Mac felt his brow crease. "Mark?"

     The Chorister pursed his lips. His skin was smooth - no creases marred his perfect complexion. "Mark? Yes...you can call me that if you will. It is a good name, strong and Biblical." The Chorister's accent was definite Austrian, and not the lilting drawl of Mark Davins.

     "You're..." Mac's left eyebrow arched. "You're not Mark?"

     "No. But I believe I resemble this Mark because it is easier for you. Do you know a Celestial member named Mark?"

     Mac nodded.

     "Then there is the answer. He is probably the only connection you have ever had to one of our Tradition, no?"

     "No," the Adept closed his eyes and shook his head. "I mean, yes," he opened his eyes. "You...Mark..."

     The Chorister held up right hand. "Please, I understand. But in the end, my question still lingers."

     "Question?"

     "Are you ready to begin?"

     Mac shook his head. "Begin what?"

     The man gave the Aept a patient smile. "Come with me, Mr. Cooper." He rose and with a swish of robes, stood by the door of the bus.

     He called me Cooper. Mac frowned at the Chorister but obliged by standing. Anything was better than remaining on board this creaky bus.

     Abruptly he and his guide stood on a grassy area beside a tall, iron gate. Lights from a church on the other side cast shadows against the birch inside on the other side of the fence. Mac could just see the tower of the church rise into the night sky. "Where are we?"

     "On the edges. This three-nave building is Augustiner. There is the chapel of St. Gerogskapelle, which was constructed in 1337. The altars in this church contain paintings by Johann Gottfried Auerbach, Johann Michael Rottmayr and Michelangelo Unterberger. Three of our most esteemed members."

     "All Choristers?"

     "Yes, as were the men who commissioned this church built." He smiled. "Come..."

     And abruptly they stood outside another church. This one stood higher, and Mac could just make out a mosaic of beautiful artwork along the top to the sides of a giant cross. "Where...?"

     "This is the church Kapuzinerkirche. Built in 1622. Within its tombs lay 140 members of the House of Habsburg. Maria Theresia, for instance."

     The Adept took in as much as he could of the church - his eyes just catching the fading glimpse of something...else. A light that danced around the building's borders. Whatever it was, it was pure in its feel, and contained nothing evil or unwanted.

     The Chorister took him to seven more churches around Vienna, each new one more magnificient than the last. And in the lesson, Mac understood the enormity of what was implied.

     Vienna was a safe haven - perhaps the only place one could hide from the Union. For they had kept out the Order of Reason for centuries.

     As they stood outside the St. Stephens Cathedral, an immense chapel of tall spires and tiled mosaics, a laughing couple walked past he and the Chorister. As Mac watched them he became aware he could see a small twinkle of light surrounding each of them. With widening eyes, he turned around and watched other people passing by. Around each of them he saw the illumination.

     "You are dreaming, Adept."

     Mac turned to the Chorister. "The light..."

     "Prime," the pseudo-Mark smiled, so much like his friend. "You are with me in dream, and so you may see what I see. It is necessary to show you these things."

     "Necessary?" Mac couldn't stop himself from staring at people as they passed. So this was how Mark saw Prime? "Why is it necessary?" Something else the Chorister said caught his attention. He looked in the man's eyes. "I'm...dreaming?"

     "Yes. This was the best way for us to contact you."

     "Contact me...for what? Who is contacting me?"

     But the Chorister put up a finger. "That could be more complicated to explain, rather to just accept. I am here to show you Vienna."

     The Adept blinked. "Vienna?"

     "For your safety."

     Mac rubbed his chin. "Okay...now you've got me more confused than I already am." Is that possible? "Okay...let me get this straight. You're here, in my dream, to show me Vienna for my safety."

     The Chorister nodded. "Yes."

     He opened his arms wide. "Why? For me in particular? Or are you here to warn us about what we're planning on doing tomorrow?"

     "I am here for you, specifically."

     Oh.

     "Mr. Cooper..." the Chorister clasped his hands behind his back and began to stroll down the sidewalk beside the church. "Vienna once was the very core of the Celestial Chorus Tradition. In the beginning, when the two factions you know as Tradition and Technocracy formed, and worked together for the common good, we settled here. This is our home." He unclasped his hands and held them up as if to praise God. "This is the city we have defended for thousands of years."

     Pseudo-Mark sighed and lowered his hands. "But...when the Order of Reason declared war upon the Traditions, many of our churches and strongholds fell," he held up the index finger of his left hand and looked directly into Mac's eyes. "But not all. We held firm, and slowly, through the centuries, we have retaken Vienna."

     "So..." Mac's attention faltered again when a tall man in similar robes passed them to the left. He seemed to glow with an inner fire. "Uhm...you're saying there are no Union bases here? In Vienna?"

     "Oh no....there is one bastion still present. Uno City."

     "Say again?"

     "No," the Chorister held out his hand. "Let me show you."

     The world of quiet repose and reflection vanished the moment he touched the man's hand. The buzz and hum of an electronic world filled his ears and Mac put his hands to the sides of his head. He tried to push the sound out of his head. It filled his Navigator, shorted his audio to the point of feedback that eched inside his mind. "Uhnnnn..."

     "You see?" the Chorister's voice cut through the cacophony in his head. "How very dangerous it is here for you?"

     "I...can't..." Mac went down on his knees, his head bent as he pressed his hands to his head. My God...what is happening? It feels as if my head is going to explode.

     "Alan..." the Chorister said, his voice soothing. "Relax. It is only a dream."

     A dream.

     I can.... stop it.

     The noise ceased with an almost deafening blow. He pitched forward onto the palms of his hands. His heart pounding inside his chest. His breathing came in short gasps. He hadn't realized he'd nearly stopped taking in air.

     A hand came into his view. The Chorister's smooth, long fingers. Mac reached out and let the man help him up. They stood together in the center of a modern artistic sculpture. City spires rose in silver and glass majesty around him, giants whose surfaces reflected the light to create day from night. Cars rushed to and fro, as did the people, all dressed in suit and tie, all burning with the cold metallic blue of Union.

     And he and the Chorister stood in its direct center.

     "The noise..."

     "Your enhancements," he reached out and touched Mac's left temple. "If you were really standing here, in this city's center, they would know you were here. Your iteration hardware is sending out a signal, though a very low one - and if they detected it - they would shut it down until they found you."

     "D-do they know I'm here now?" He searched the Chorister's gentle eyes. "Is that why the intrusion clones came after Johnny?"

     "Mr. Meyer is an enigma in his own right, Mr. Cooper. His presence is felt through mistakes of his own doing. My showing you Uno City is a courtesy to you only." He narrowed his eyes and looked about him. "You don't know enough about your own enhancements to protect yourself from them, much less anyone else. Do you really understand why, just now, you experienced pain - in a dream no less?"

     Mac looked at the ground and shook his head slowly. "No..."

     The Chorister nodded, his gaze finding Mac's. "Every member of the Technocratic Union has an implant referred to as a Digital Enhancement Implant, or DEI. This implant is what allows Union Members enhanced night vision, pattern recognition, enhanced memory, 3D spatial mapping, enhanced hearing, online reference and access to global positioning systems. The DEI units connect into the user's mind at a sublevel of integration - which means it connects with the user's mind and makes available the knowledge there. It creates an ever changing index of resources." He paused. "You have a variation of this implant - though yours is highly experimental. It operates at a higher speed and is much more integrated into the "wetware" of the Progenitor connections."

     The night turned colder as Mac listened to the Chorister. What he said made absolute sense, and on an unconscious level, the Adept agreed. But... "You're...you're not a Chorister...not really. How could you know these things?"

     Psuedo-Mark tilted his head to one shoulder. "I never said I was a Chorister in specific terms. This image is simply the one your subconscious chose to see me in. I am closer to you than you know."

     The man's words chilled Mac and he hugged himself as a breeze ruffled his hair.

     "Now you must listen to me carefully, Alan. The DEI is only one part of what was called the Minerva project. The Global Communications Package within it is one of the most advanced systems that ITx ever placed into the field. Your DEI runs in two modes called hot and warm."

     Mac's eyes widened.

     "In hot mode, the DEI is in constant communication with other Union members, therefore sharing all visual, aural and life sign information, as well as tracking any magical effects, positions of potential enemies, etc. Connection to the main network is minimal - but it is present. The Union uses this mode for full combat situations where teamwork is required."

     The Adept shook his head. "I - I'm wired into the Union network?"

     The Chorister continued on, though not ignoring Mac's question. He took a step toward the Adept. "The second mode is the warm mode. It is more restricted. Only simple life sign and locational information is relayed to the other members of a team. Communication with the larger network is limited, but none of the user's resources are made available. This mode is intended for cold operations, where lack of detection and stealth are important. You're in between these modes of existence. Unfinished. The one who installed your hardware," the Chorister gave a small, slow smile, "wasn't given the freedom he needed, nor was he given time alone. Because your implant is experimental, and runs much faster than the norm, it cannot connect to the wider network. And so, its signal garbles, causing a feedback inside your head. That feed back will be detected until you shut the operational system down."

     Mac took a step back. "You...what are you? How can you know this?"

     "My suggestion to you is to communicate with the Void Engineer - he is operating with his own DEI in silent operation. If you cannot find the switch to throw, then ask him where it is."

     A laugh escaped Mac's lips and he held his hands out from his side as if embracing the night. "Oh. Really? You obviously haven't met Nicholas Calen. That man'd rather shoot me than help me."

     "Perhaps...perhaps not. If he feels his own life is threatened by your inept education in the processes of your enhanced state." The Chorister folded his hands over his chest, his sleeves draping down to the hem of his robe. "You might find Mr. Calen a bit more accommodating than you realize."

     Mac rubbed at his temples. Will I remember this in the morning? This is all craziness. I'm being taught the goings on of my own head by a...a Chorister. "Why...why are you telling me this?"

     "Because you serve a higher purpose - a greater good. As do all of your cabal. They in turn should receive messages in their own fashion. I am here to warn you to not enter Uno City. For your own protection, as well as your team mates, until you get this system off."

     Mac smiled. "You're not going to tell me who you are, are you? Who do you represent?"

     As the man turned and looked around, so did Mac. He was impressed with the level of technology here in the middle of Austria. The city of Vienna itself was filled with aged beauty, landmarks to man's achievements and its unending nerve to survive against all manner of atrocity. But here, technology ruled supreme, to the dismissal of everything else. It was like standing on the strip in Las Vegas, only someone had erased all the color, muting everything to metallic tones.

     But it had become obvious he wasn't going get a straight answer from this...man. "What Conventions are here?"

     "I'm sorry?" the Chorister turned a questioning face to Mac.

     "Conventions?" he pointed to the ground. "Here."

     "Progenitor mostly."

     Mac's left eyebrow arched. "Oh."

     "Oh yes, very large contingent here." Pseudo-Mark looked up at the building on their right, the tallest of them all. "Very cold place, isn't it? And if you look carefully, you can see the decay that has festered within, rotting down to its very roots, and yet the flower that has bloomed above the ground does not know or suspect the worse is yet to come. Within a matter of a few years, it will all be gone."

     "Gone?

     "Destroyed," he looked at Mac. "By man's greed, his unwillingness to learn. Or by science implemented without regard to human life. The Churches in Vienna were built with dedication and time and love. And they still stand today."

     But the artificial works of man today will not ask questions of future travelers. Mac looked again at the high towers, and he felt the creep of the noise returning. The drone of electricity, the peripheral flash of the lights. Something cold and icy crept along his spine, as if chilly fingers had seized his shoulders and tugged at him to return.

     Come back...

     "I want to leave."

     The Chorister nodded.

     And again the scene about them changed. They stood together on a hillside, beneath a star filled sky. The Chorister sat down with a solid "uhmph" and began to spread his robes about him. Mac continued to stand, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his black pants. The wind blew at his hair, causing his bangs to brush against his forehead.

     A part of him was afraid to move, that the serenity of the moment would be gone and he would be again inside Uno City. I am glad he showed me this. I'd hate to think I'd walk into that fortress of Technocracy unaware.

     Light from an unseen moon gave Mac enough illumination that his optics could open wide and make the night into day, though the shadows remained.

     "You have a question?"

     Mac pursed his lips and turned to face the Chorister who now sat a few feet away. "The Progenitors...they can prolong life?" He thought of the coversation he and Syd had had the day before while in VR.

     "Yes. They can. It is rumored that several of their order - the originators from the earliest of times, are still alive. You might call them the Progenitors of the Progenitors." Psuedo-Mark gave a small giggle.

     "Socrates? Plato? The greats?"

     "Oh heavens no... those men are dead. Who told you they were still alive?"

     Mac smiled. "A friend." So Syd doesn't know everything. He at least had the information right, if not the facts.

     "They at this time, hold the very power of life and death. And they guard their secrets." He pointed at Mac. "The stuff in your head, by all natural laws of the universe, shouldn't exist. It shouldn't co-exist with the living flesh it's attached to. But it does. That's Progenitor Science. Only we call it Life Sphere."

     "So..." Mac began, his thoughts turning in wild patterns. "They can cure cancer? Leukemia? Aids? Even the common cold?"

     "Certainly...but where would that put the cold and flu industries, hmm?" He laughed and then stretched. "The Syndicate makes quite a killing from pharmaceuticals, both serious and recreational. Well, it is time to be going. I have remained here too long."

     Mac put his hands out as if to stop the Chorister from rising. "Wait...I have more questions."

     "And I'm afraid I don't have those answers." He smiled as he stood and brushed off his robe. "Those are questions you'll have to ask directly."

     "But..."

     The elegant man reached out with his right hand and placed it firmly on Mac's shoulder. "Remember what I've said. Find a way to shut down from warm mode - remember that Uno City is the center of the Union in Vienna, yet the rest of the city is safe for all of you, and remember," he winked at Mac. "Sometimes the path is right under your feet, if you care to look."

     "But no...I have to know why..."

     And he was gone. No fanfare of smoke or audible pop. The world of the grassy hillside and the beautiful view of Vienna disappeared slowly, as if someone had turned down the fade to nothing.

     I have to know why...

     He awoke to stiff muscles, his face pressed into the couch cushions. Someone had covered him with a blanket during the night and removed his shoes. His gun lay on the coffee table, the barrel pointed at the door. With a groan he brought his arms forward and pushed himself up and over. He sat back on the couch and rubbed at his face with his hands, wiped the sleep from his eyes.

     I slept hard. Except for the dream, he doubted he'd moved. And he had Arden to thank for that. The tune of her lullaby lingered in the corridors of his Navigator. He wasn't sure what she'd done or how, but he intended on taking her up on her offer of help.

     If the woman can sing me into that deep a sleep, I need her to teach me how to prevent anyone else from doing it.

     The dream remained in his mind, unlike his nightmares that faded with the dawn and left a foul taste in his mouth. This one he remembered fully - down to the pain he'd experienced in Uno City. That was real enough.

     The Chorister's words came back unbidden. They at this time, hold the very power of life and death. Life and death. Dealt by the Progenitors.

     Again came the question - the one the Chorister refused to hear.

     If they can cure disease, and they control life and death...

     Mac leaned forward and put his hands on his elbows. He stood and walked slowly to his bedroom, past the still made-up bed and into his bathroom. He flipped on the light and stared at the pale, gaunt face that stared back at him.

     If they can cure disease, and they control life and death...

     "Then why did my father let my mother die?"

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