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Frank Harris is sure the time for action has come but unsure which path shall
be followed.
“Trevor.” McBain looks up from the detailed manuals of system operations and indexing of the 2085 command structure, “Frank.” Harris begins slowly, “Every gold plate has been expanded and bound. There is a library section set
aside for that
next to the music room to the west. Once many years ago I had Disk-2, but I had
the wrong vault and the system’s process stalled.
Dr. Vulchario was able to retrieve Disk-2 because he knew the Main Index code and could summon the disk. I had it stored in a bank and they thought a meteorite hit the building. It was unable to navigate its way out; so it bored its way out.” Frank
slides two sturdy laminated cards with the index for both disks printed on them; one index per side.
Trevor slides one card back and holds one of the cards up indicating he would
like to keep it.
“I could call Disk-1 with this card but not Disk-2 because it is in the tower a lightmach higher?”
Frank is watching Trevor slowly twirl the card while mulling his options; preparing to decide.
“If we go right in with the vault and code we could summon the disk and update the system before The Vulture can exit the time constraints of the Crystal Spring. There’s a brief window of opportunity from the moment he hides the disk: until he is
on the battlefield or a command post.”

The Rainbow Bridge

No one has raised an alarm that Lisa, Auri and Pierce are missing or might be
in one of the tower’s pits of oblivion. Harris is unsure if they are gone or safely asleep upstairs. Not knowing gives him a point of view, that safeguards him from a plea
of urgency; or sense of desperation.
He leaves through the portico to get the vault, the only person besides Artrex that can open the repository. Artrex would have preferred Trevor carry the vault and continuously jump from location to location until the vault was updated and the new core
complete and fully activated.
Barring a quick expedient outcome; Artrex in concert with Mr. Eight and Aloysius hope that Frank, Alex and Ted can shepherd McBain forward and steer him towards victory.
Harris returns to find Ted, Trevor and Alex washed and freshened up and he does likewise indulging in a shave. Alex goes to a storage closet under the stairs and takes two footlockers expertly packed with side arms, assault weapons, ammunition and
explosives. Michelle hearing the shuffling and scuffling of their preparations hands Ted and McBain two shoulder bags of provisions. Going upstairs to retrieve the two hand trucks and straps she reassures Grigori and Morbiditus that all is well and not
to let the nights goings on disturb their arrival or privacy.
Morbiditus quickly recounts recent events, she replies, “It was expected.”
Grigori adds with a plainness of speech; “I know you’re in a hurry. We prefer death to lingering forevermore in a dying version of The Core and a broken version of The Construct.”
Michelle looks to Morbiditus her eyes intense but thoughtful. Morbiditus can sense Igor’s desire.
“We have overheard enough. Let him serve as their guide. I’ll go through the bridge. Igor can close it from this side. If they could return they would’ve done so by now,” affirms Morbiditus.
“Let’s hurry then,” Michelle says to the brothers wanting to avoid delay while momentum is in place. Morbiditus has Michelle follow along with him
to the northeast watch as Grigori walks to the southeast. Jack and Stephan Barret wandering the
grounds reacquainting themselves with the old Victorian residence have seen the
bridge flicker on and off several times and come up the outer staircase as Grigori and Morbiditus are pulling the lead wheels, used to short circuit and close the bridge, out
of their exterior cupboards on the west side of each Widow’s Watch.
“I’m going to see if I can ascertain if the broken gates are a stone thrown at random or a set location.” Morbiditus confides in Barret. “I’ve
noticed were a couple of players short tonight.”
Jack moves towards Morbiditus “You know the tower, if there’s a way out you’ll find it. I saw Pierce enter the bridge and came to find out why. I’ll go with you and Stephan with Grigori.”
Michelle heads back down stairs with the hand trucks as Ivan The First and Jack Barret cross the gate into the bridge. Grigori and Stephan roll the lead wheels across each threshold retreating down the stairs; the bridge comes to a colorfully
flickering, but uneventful full stop: and closes.
Michelle has the gear strapped to the hand trucks. Stephan lets the assembled
explorers know he is accompanying them; after Michelle informs them Grigori is willing to serve as their guide. Trevor polls Major Danes, Alex, Harris and Grigori for the
best set of options and Grigori’s suggestion to start in the Parkland zone where The Courier and The Dove functions have been commandeered by The Alliant is chosen.
Michelle steps back as Trevor directs the team into a circle in the broad main hallway under the small chandelier before the elevator and stairs. Each players left hand rests on the next man’s right shoulder. Danes and Alex have
hold of the lockers
on the hand trucks, whilst Harris and Stephan hold provisions duffels. McBain holding The Vault, “ Vault - Misty Hob – Parkland.”
The party of six disk seekers land dead centered between the three quarter circle of heavy wood and stone green park benches. The Alliant is taking a drink from the bubbler to their right.
Frank Harris steps forward introducing himself as if they have not met before. The Alliant nods faintly toward Frank and speaks to everyone “I have a Core Code for Mr. Trevor McBain.”
Testing Frank’s resolve to proceed as planned. Trevor steps forward in a serious state of mind knowing this individual exercises an authority over outcomes around the tower. “I am Trevor.”
The Alliant grabs his wrist pulling his hand forward and Trevor relaxes his palm. McBain looks at the other members of the team and they turn away. The Alliant inscribes a six letter name chosen for The Core and its Origin Point. He asks Trevor, “Is
that acceptable for long term use?”
The new cores name felt like a small sip of water on a desert trek, the connection between the old core and the new seemed to merge imperceptibly into one another like the hues of a prism.
“I can live with that.” Trevor looks toward the team with the vague thought of flying through the process without a care or a hitch. McBain likes that early rush of confidence and enthusiasm.
He recognizes its fleeting quality is like a stick match used to ignite the kindling under the logs in a fireplace. The Alliant is the match. This team equal in proportion to the number of letters that were inscribed on his hand: are the logs; the tower
and its complexes the fireplace.
“Your associate, Lucian LaGrange was here previously, to briefly scout the tower personally before launching his forces. I defeated him as: The Alliant verses The All; so that the 2085 can move to a set of more fundamental imperatives; that it
requires to advance its own possibility of surviving this conflict.” The Alliant looks at Grigori pointing to the bubbler holding his hand out. Grigori unwinds six wingnuts on the bubbler’s wide base removing the four heavy iron bar keys used to
raise the metal compass; the team has been unknowingly standing on: off its rim
gasket.
This metal compass and facilities below, were long ago mated to the Roulette Gate, inside the passenger terminal at Oldwood Station; before Library City became a genuine rival and threat to the 2085 system and its operation. Trevor,
Danes, Harris and
Alex unscrewing the lid triggers the vortex paradome dynamos within. The cover rises, hovers, resizes its outer rim and floats down two feet; lining up with its storage shelf; it withdraws leaving a wide blue steel staircase in view.
“I’ll be quartered here in the underground terminal. This tunnels outlet is available for battle.
This ninth attempt to restart The Construct is the last time that would involve
The Players. If you should fail the amount of continuity you would lose would be catastrophic: no 2085 Player on lightmach-23 is in possession of less than ten thousand books.
The Book Of Life is represented as a Bridge Of Light terminating in a small white ship from whence a being can deploy a version of its consciousness. Libraries of personal ships are sortable, stackable and combinable from within All Transit-20 and All
Transit-64 . Defeat of The 2085 System by any means removes all continuity. All
books are erased to protect The Existent’s ability to start from scratch and begin again using design tested procedures. The possibility of the same anomaly
occurring twice
is rare. Hence the building of The Core around a new Origin Point is a ten disk, ten stage process.
These five interacting levels, of competing processes, form The Core’s computational health:
One Vs. Three
ATM Vs. The All
The Core Vs 2085
The Alliant Vs The Existent
All Transit-64 Vs All Transit-20
This is an Origin Point. Each disk-sphere anchors an inward and outward breath and they ignite.”
The Alliant waits to see if anyone has any questions before showing the small
team down into the underground station. Trevor sees a wide-framed oak, antique train station, departures and arrivals board, marking this locale as Bell Tower
Station.
Moving back towards the stairwell he sees the wide mouthed, red brick and block
stone archway, facing inward towards the towers center, quickly degenerates into roughhewn granite passageways, lit with loose strung wires and bulbs inside cages, under
pancake shields. unlit Kerosene lamps are seen on many shelfs from an even earlier era.
Michelle is closing doors and windows at Misty Hob removing any oddities from
plain site that might arouse suspicion. Grigori’s and Morbiditus’ supplies and belongings have been placed in the eaves of the gymnasium and covered with faded throw rugs,
to protect unwary snooping by any busybodies, meddlers or detectives; in that order. This is a new section of uncharted territory for all the individuals drawn into the conflict. Misty Hob is still operational but has resumed its disguise as rarely
lived in. Going to the cupboards, Michelle separates the dynamo and pyramid components Mr. Eight used against her as a flight and traveling restriction; placing them in metal cookie tins far enough apart to mark them as decommissioned to both the old and
new core.
Standing she cuffs in and out of her owl body several times then test her other arms Malta Line functions for long distance transits. Mr. Eight has left her wired into Train World’s relay system in case of his death insanity or deletion by 2085. She
is in and out of the still darkness of the new core currently under construction. Locking the front door she puts the key under the mat before walking down the winding half mile to the front gate. She steps into the underbrush where the aqueduct slopes
upward again after passing under the driveway. Stepping onto its roof she peers
into a small lancet that views The Presence. “Find Alliant True Mystery and protect him.”
The twenty foot thin vertical line appears fifty feet north of Oldwood Station. The Old Chief knows only he and Michelle have that level of access to The Core. Mr.. Eight is nonplussed by her change in travel. She could have dispensed with the
restriction long ago. The only time it served any real value was in the short period between the old cores failing health and the new cores initialization. Artrex, Aloysius, Lucian and Mr. Eight are sitting on the long bench in front of the station
waiting for her. Train loads of RN6 armaments are quietly passing entering through the repaired gate a mile south just beyond the perimeter of the blast zone.
“Templeton and Tatianni went into the original zero gates at Misty Hob and were delayed so Pierce went in after them and then Morbiditus followed to see if he could assist.” Michelle spoke efficiently without grave concern. She knows it would take
a lot of tricky stratagems and dirty work to kill Trevor or Pierce but the 2085
may have listed Lisa and Aurian as expendable.
Eight queries 2085 for Pierce’s coordinates and receives, “278 Mulberry Street, Clocktown.”
He announces the response to The Captain, The Navigator, The Owl and The All.

“If your good to go, maybe you, Artrex and Aloysius could rabbit punch your
way in and then we could pull Pierce out. I don’t want to leave Body Fortresses unattended and have them turned against us.” Eight offers a strategy that doesn’t
conflict with his battle plan agreements with Lucian. Michelle knows if she locates Pierce she’ll need a fortress or Artrex to move Pierce and the girls if they can be moved. Aloysius suggest Michelle ride in with him and he’ll follow her once inside.
Michelle decides to go alone and gets a nod from each Origin Player. Everyone
present knows Lisa Templeton is the old cores human representative and Aurian Tatianni is the human representative for the failed attempt to create a new core. Most
importantly Michelle is in possession of ten thousand of the compact ships from
the old core; a formidable weapon.
Michelle asks the boys and Lucian to scout Clocktown periodically after deploying and wishes them good fortunes in battle. She enters the old fairgrounds through the active Roulette Gate and departs for Clocktown from the
top of the hill. Just before
leaving she allows herself a moment of reflection gazing down on the stadium and amphitheater’s ocean of black tarpaulin covered diamond dust statues. Calling out the locale given to her by Mr. Eight she lands in the middle of the
street in front of a
hundred foot wide, yellow brick, eight story building titled, “The Swain” inscribed on the mantle above the double wide, tinted glass in chrome frame doors. Each floor’s border is a ledge of inlaid gold time pieces. A pile of rifled luggage is
holding the doors open.
Pierce calls out from a third floor balcony, “We’re up here having a bite
to eat, doors open.”
Michelle waves and requests 2085 relay “Four Travelers Secured” to Mr. Eight and receives a picture of Goldilocks and Three Bears in reply. Mr. Eights
mild sarcasm understood clearly.
Michelle tidies up the luggage closing it and moving it inside the Art Deco era lobby.
No one looking out the windows she summons the Evac-One Fleet. The ten thousand
small
triangles surrounded by a delta wing encased in a floating ring fill the street. Michelle calls out silently, “Lightmach-25” docking them cloaked; a
single command away; one lightmach higher.
Surveying Mulberry Street her eyes have a twinkle of reminiscent pleasantry thinking about her beloved Miss Faversham. She tunes her ears to listen to the buildings sing with a sweet vibrating intensity of their secret existence as information brokers.
The scope of Gretchen’s imagination is a plentiful cornucopia of treasured memories, woven into elaborate improvisations. Guessing lightheartedly Michelle
estimates each building on the street is holding no less than ten thousand conversations with its
neighbors. Even the bare limbs of the late autumn trees are alive with airy thoughts. Eight buildings on each side of the street make a pleasant menagerie of eras and styles.

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