He wasn't jacked into the Digital Web, but simply running a program from his computer. Yet he could feel the transmission's pull toward the net. Perhaps he should have elected to simply read the message instead of 'experience' the VR. This version was meant for an Adept with a higher Quintessence. He was going to pay for this little ride. Great - well, there's nothing I can do about it now.

     A voice he didn't recognized and probably never would again began to speak as the images around him changed.

     A holographic keyboard appeared before him. He wasn't wearing any gloves or socks to manipulate VR. Yet, his fingers flew over the keys with practiced ease and he looked at each of the screens as the information revealed itself. Maybe this is all part of the program - to make me think I'm in control and I'm not.

     I've got a bad feeling about this.

     To the left an elderly man in a gray suit spoke in a pointedly London accent. "The author respectfully submits this document with the assertion that it cannot answer the question of the Rogue Council's identity. Rather, it gathers together what data is available to date on this mysterious organization and attempts to sort for further study.."

     Above him a tall, statuesque woman appeared, her hands crossed over her chest. She too was dressed in gray. "The emergence of a new player on the political scene has caused quite a stir in some circles. Several of the Traditions have ordered their mages to immediately report the receipt of any transmission that might have come from this entity. Wisely, none of the Traditions have yet to make a proclamation of who or what they believe is behind the messages..."

     The Gray Man continued speaking to Mac's left. "When the Avatar storm swept through the Umbra realms, it caused great damage and changed the face of the Umbra forever. We have little to no contact with many areas where we once traveled freely. Horizon, our political, spiritual and magical center, remains our greatest loss...."

     Mac's attention shifted from one screen to the next and back again. He never missed a word or inflection. He felt as if the information was being downloaded into his very mind, as well as his harddrive for storage. He used the keyboard as a guide to lead him through the data, to sift to what he needed when and to speed or slow down the messages.

     But I'm not in control.

     The Gray Man continued. "So many took the damage wrought by the avatar storm as a sign that either the Technocracy has finally won the war or that humanity has ceased to care entirely..."

     The Gray Lady continued. "To my knowledge, the current leaders and elders of every Tradition have met to discuss this emerging power. Whereas, as far as I know, the Cultists of Ecstasy have only met once - "to celebrate this new contender's balls for shoving our own inadequacies in our faces" - other Traditions have convened several times, with much more serious discussions on the agenda..."

     On a fourth screen, log upon log of missives appeared, the files scrolling up to disappear past the image itself. Some missives were recieved as email, some as phone calls, some as notes left on car windshield wipers. They all bore the same standard.

     The Sphinx.

     And all the messages were helpful in some way to those who adhered to their instructions.

     The Grey Man continued. "These transmissions originate from an unknown source. To my knowledge, no one has managed to backtrack along the Pattern trail to find out where they originated. We have very little to go on. We have, however, identified seven qualities that all the missives have in common..."

     The Gray Lady continued. "Chorister theories seem to vary between individuals, but they all express discomfort with the anonymity. God, they claim, works in the open. They wonder why a force for harmony would be afraid to show its true face."

     More missives continued to scroll.

     As Mac's gaze flew from one screen to the next, a small pain began between his eyes. He was taking things in too fast. He needed to slow things down a bit. And here the reality of his situation gained substance. He really wasn't in control, as he'd suspected. It was all an illusion - part of the program.

     The Gray Man continued. "First, the transmissions come from an exceptionally knowledgeable source. Whoever is sending them knows things that the standard sleeper wouldn't suspect in their wildest dreams.

     "Secondly, the transmissions guide the receiver in some way. They reveal Technocracy hide-outs or give hints to Marauder plots. They have saved lives by warning the Awakened of imminent attacks. For now, the senders seem to be on our side. Though we do suspect that copy-cats have begun to send out their own less-than-reliable directives, so proceed with caution..."

     The Gray Lady continued. "A Dreamspeaker recently told me that their surviving elders were only passingly interested in the anonymous party sending the missives. They have more important things to do than dandy with politics. Some believe it's a bad sign, whiles others are worried that the spirits have offered up no explanations. It has been suggested that the source of the missives is so powerful that even the spirits fear it."

     The pain in his head increased in intensity, almost in volume, if headaches could be measured in such a way. He wanted to stop the VR, to pull back and releax, pause the run, but nothing he tried worked. The information continued. There was no ESC key.

     The Gray Man spoke. "Thirdly, the senders use coincidental effects to deliever the messages. We have no concrete indication that the senders are Awakened, aside from the amount of knowledge they have about magic.

     "Fourth, the transmissions cannot be traced. No Sphere has allowed us to trace any transmission back to its source. The transmissions arrive clean, and that in and of itself is a mark of powerful mages."

     The Gray Lady continued. "The Verbena have apparently splintered. They have been celebrating the arrival of new political forces even as they mourn the loss of the old Council of Nine."

     The Gray man continued. "Fifth, the senders target mages from all the Traditions. We have found no evidence that they belong to any one Tradition or favour any above the other.

     "Sixth, somewhere within the message, the senders 'sign' their missives with a particular symbol. The symbol is a graphical representation of the sphinx.

     "And lastly seven, a majority of the missives contain two phrases that either send together or separately. They are, "Enigma takes us where dogma cannot" and "We do not create the path to Ascension; we explore it".

     Mac felt his breathing quicken in the physical world. He felt his real knuckles tighten on the chair's armrests. The messages continued to play, but the pain that had started as an ache was quickly becoming a full blown migrane. He was going to need to stop. If he didn't...

     "....like you McGyver," the Gray Lady was saying. Mac narrowed his eyes and looked up at her screen. "I am a collector of information, and I am the VA response to this encrypted entity that has inserted itself into our system. I was asked to gather data, and I have. Once we have a good sum of data to examine, we will begin to manipulate it and extract all that we can from it. The VA in general see no need to panic. We continue to focus on challenges following the recent crash and whiteout of the Digital Web. Our own problems with Sleepers, Technocrats and other beings intruding into what was once our domain (the digi-web) has made some of us wonder whether this anonymous messenger is actually Awakened or not. Most others have assumed that it is either a single Awakened being or a group of Awakened. We are not so convinced. We learned our lesson. No place or knowledge is sacred or safe."

     Somehow her words seemed more ominous than Mac knew they were intended to be.

     The Gray Man continued. "But let us explore and understand the mixed meanings and interpretations of the sphinx, which appear in many places in history..."

     Mac's head continued to throb. When I come out of this, my head's going to feel as if it's been slapped with a lead pipe.

     He watched and listened to the lessons of the history and mythologies of the sphinx, though some terrified him. He had no idea the creature had appeared in so many civilizations and in so many forms. Dangerous were all of them if not obeyed, and the riddle unanswered.

     And he wondered...were these missives...and he looked again at the scrolling screen...the riddle to be answered? And what if we fail? Then what?

     He shook his head. He shouldn't panic. He should wait and listen and learn. And get this file uploaded to Trent as soon as he got into Nevada.

     As the information continued, he ceased attending to it as before. The ache was now a ringing in his ears. The file would complete, the program done, and he would save it to his hard drive. He had no fear of any self-erasing on this transmission. It was from his own Tradition leaders, though its scheme and VR makup was more superb than what he'd experienced before. It's length was its downfall, for he was young and only two years Awakened. A much more experienced VA could handle such an info dump.

     I'm out of Virtual Shape.

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