Not more than a few months ago she had entered a contest via a piece of paper through the mail. Mostly out of sheer boredom. It hadn't even occurred to her that she might win. Ironically, she had.

Her best friend, Mark, had come running up to her a few weeks after she had sent the entry form in. He'd handed her an envelope, big and crisp and white. Curiosity piqued, he had stayed to see what was in it. Very few of the orphans ever received personal mail.

Marks parents lived in a house a few miles from the orphanage that housed Zan. His parents dropped him off there mornings because they didn't think it was wise for him to stay alone that far from help in case of an emergency. They picked him up again on the way home from work, so he often stayed very late.

Her prize came the next week in the mail, in a large, heavy box marked all over with FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE.

A computer! She owned a computer! She'd read every book on computers she could get her hands on, even fiction. She had a good portion of the C catalog drawer memorized. (tho she rather suspected it was out of date, since it was, in fact, a drawer.) On one such trip to the library, she had found something interesting. She'd shown it to Mark, who also had an afinity for computers, and they'd set to work.

Someone had apparently come up with an idea that seemed simple enough, but was apparently impossible to build. It was this: to program and operate a computer or machine by voice communication.

Theoretically, it was possible. In fact, she had found it in a magazine of current science. But the two had neither the materials, nor the experience to do it.

That challenge, combined with the fact that they were beginning to get slightly bored wth the computers single program (a game of some sort), and the prospect was irresistable. They diligently slaved over what was probably an impossible task.

One day, while working on the computer alone, Zan, out of weary frustration, had begun haphazardly connecting wires together. When she brought three wires together that had no business being together, she fully expected an electric shock. She did receive a shock, tho not exactly what she had expected. The speakers she and Mark had earlier hooked up to the computer blared suddenly, sounding more than a little drunk.

"Blea--wor--grfnt." Zan had been so happy she'd almost dropped the wires before she'd gotten them soldered together. She'd hollered for Mark, and while she held the wires together, he soldered them.

At the time, Mark hadn't known what she'd accomplished, and the look on his face when he found out still made her grin.

However, for all their work, the computer was useless. No response at all when she attempted to teach it anything. Although she was sure she'd succeded in getting the computer to memorize what she'd taught it, it didn't seem able to use the information.

As Zan rested her chin on her hand she smiled as remembered how she had made a bet with Mark that they could change that little detail. He had smiled and said, "And if we do not?" in his odd, accented way.

A knock on her door interrupted her reverie. She knew it was Mark, he was the only person that bothered to knock, and with that odd, light sort of tap.

"C'mon in," she called, still contemplating the bowels of the computer.

She heard his footfalls on the thin carpet, and felt the pressure of his hand on the back of her chair as he leaned over her to peer into the jumble of wires.

"Hm. Stymied, are you?" he asked. As he did, he set a warm mug of cocoa on the desk to the side of the computer.

"What's this for?" she asked, eyeing the mug.

"It being as cold as it is, I thought perhaps this would warm you," he replied.

And it was cold. It was winter, and the heating in the old building had taken to periodic rests. And to add to that, it had been pouring freezing rain outside for the past few days. And still was, Zan noticed as she glanced out the darkened window.

"Thanks," she said, as she cupped the warm mug in both hands. The blanket draped over her shoulders had kept her relatively warm, but the cocoa warmed her insides.

She looked over at Mark. He didn't seem at all affected by the weather, other than dressing a little more warmly, that is. He wasn't complaining anyway. But then he never did.

"You're welcome," he said, the smile in his voice matching the one in his eyes.

In the few years she had known Mark, the way he formed his words had never ceased to fascinate her. His voice had a tranquil effect, sort of soft and airy. Almost a British accent, although she was pretty sure he had been raised American. His parents were foreign, she thought, but she couldn't remember where they were from. Mark didn't talk about them, and she had never met them, as they didn't come in when they picked him up or dropped him off.

He was different. And because of this, Zan thought bitterly, he had been alienated from everyone their age but her. She rather liked his curious ways. He was quieter, more self controlled, which seemed in total contrast to the way Zan herself was.

She was bold and outspoken, yet not loud. She, too didn't have many friends, as she was impatient with stupidity, even in herself, and didn't partake in any of the other girls' petty pranks and meannesses. Perhaps it was this reason she had taken a liking to him, and he to her.

"Is something wrong?" Mark asked suddenly.

"Huh? Oh! No," Sha said, blushing as she realized that she had been staring at him. "I was just thinking, that's all."

"Well now, if that be the case, then you'd best direct it at that," he said, indicating the mass of wires with a slight motion of his chin.

Zan sighed, again resting her chin on her hand. still holding the mug in her left hand, she returned to staring at the bowels of the computer.

"Tell me, do you really think you can give this computer a personality?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow at her.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I can try. Keeps me from being bored, anyway. But i was thinking, maybe if we--" A sudden bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, followed almost instantly by a tremendous crash of thunder. Startled, Zan jumped. And in doing so, she splashed hot liquid onto her hand.

"Yowch!" she yelled, jerking her hand away from the heat, dropping the cup.

Hot cocoa spilled onto the exposed computer panel.

Zan shrieked as the side of the computer exploded in her face, sending sparks everywhere. She slumped forward.

"Zan!" Mark yelled, just as the power in the house started to go, the lights flickering. The computer was still sparking.

Mark grabbed Zan, pulling her chair back and away from the still sputtering computer.

"Zan! Are you alright?" He called loudly and firmly, staring hard into her face. Zan didn't answer.

The computer finally stopped sputtering and became quiet as the power went out completely. Smoke drifted upward.

Zan stirred and coughed.

"You OK?" Mark asked worriedly.

She wrinkled up her nose, and rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. Coughing, she nodded.

Mark relaxed, thinking it had been a good thing all the adults were in th other wing with the smaller children because of the storm. The rooms next to them had been cleared for some new girls who were comming in the next day. The smoke was beginning to fill up the room, so he got up and opened a window. It was still raining hard, but the large overhang kept most of the water out of the room. A strong, cold wind rushed in, scattering the remaining smoke. It was still dark.

"What happened to the lights?" Zan asked fuzzily.

"I don't know. Happened right after the computer went berserk. Probably blew a fuse."
"Oh! The computer!" She cried, dismayed. "So much for personalities, huh?" She shook her head to clear it, but she still felt strange. The flashes of light coming from the window weren't helping. "I don't feel so good..." she said slowly, then she toppled sideways out of chair.

Mark quickly caught her before she hit the floor. The chair tipped over and he barked his shins on on of its legs in he semi-dark. Muttering in annoyance at the chair, he checked Zan over. She was breathing light and shallow, like she was asleep. He wondered if he should call one of the matrons after all. Zan muttered something and he looked down at her. She didn't seem to have any burns from the sparks, though she was a bit sooty, and he thought her color was returning. But then, it was difficult to tell with the odd lighting, too.

Satisfied, he carried her over to her bed. There were three beds in the room, and he wasn't sure which was hers. Not that it mattered, since the rooms two other occupants were having a sleepover with some other girls in another room.

The door opened and Missy, one of Zan's roommates, stuck her head in, followed by her body, and a bright beam from her flashlight. She held the flashlight so it was pointed up at the ceiling, illuminating a good portion of the room around her.

The mess on the desk caught her attention, and she gave it a disgusted look. Pointedly ignoring Mark as he pulled the covers up around Zan, Missy got the extra pillows she had come for.

Tucking them both under one arm, with the flashlight in her other hand still pointed upward, she finally turned to Mark, as if just registering his presence. "My, aren't we up late?" she asked cooly. "Matron catches you in here this late, you're in for it good," she added, smirking at him.

Mark only sighed, and decided the mockery was not worth the exceptional comment that came to mind, nor any other, for that matter.

As she left, her dainty little nose stuck up in the air, as usual, he shook his head and smiled. He almost felt sorry for people like that.

The next morning, before the sun rose, Zan woke up, hurting all over. She tried unsuccessfully to remember why. She lay there for a while, thinking of nothing, till the memory of last night came back to her, slowly. The thunder, the explosion. She bolted out of the bed as she remembered spilling hot cocoa on the computer. She started for the door, hoping that nothing would trip her in the dark. She stopped after a few steps. It was pitch black, and freezing. she needed light, and her robe. And she needed to check the computer. The curtain over her open window rippled, and she shivered in the breeze.

She stumbled to the wall and flipped the light switch. Nothing happened for a moment, but then the lights flickered on. She went to close the window deliberately not looking at the computer. She shrugged into her robe, dicideing to go see if Mark was there yet. She made a move to turn off the light, when the bulb flickered and died. She flipped it anyway, annoyed, and hurried out into the darkened hallway, muttering under her breath. She didn't dare turn on the lights the hall. She knew who'd blown the fuse. She was going to get into big trouble.

Zan made it to what served as a common room for this wing of the orphanage without waking anyone. She saw a largish lump sprawled across a couch in the dark. 'Good' she thought, he'd been dropped off early this morning. She moved over to the couch and touched his shoulder, knowing that would be enough to wake him.

A disheveled Mark sleepily opened his eyes, then shook himself awake on seeing Zan. "The computer?"

"I haven't looked at it yet," Zan whispered.

"Come. Let us see what we can make of it," he suggested with a smile, and started quietly down the hallway toward her room. Zan shrugged, and followed him.

When they got there, Zan opened the door and headed in, Mark right behind her. He paused to shut the door behind him, so when he turned, it was to see Zan staring at the computer in amazement. He came up behind her, and merely raised an eyebrow at what he saw.

They were seeing a blinking purple screen, information scrolling across it faster than they could absorb it. As they watched in fascination, the computer began making assorted odd noises, and emitting what sounded like parts of words. A moment later, the screen went black, and the computer shut down.



Mark leaned over the computer, Zan behind him, looking over his shoulder. Hot cocoa had gathered in a pool around the scorched frame, a congealed, sticky mess. Some still remained on the actual wires, burnt and crispy.

Zan wrinkled up her nose at the sight. The sparks had melted some of the wires together.

"That's probably what did it," Mark said finally, indicating the melted parts. "At least in part. Perhaps that in combination with the wires you had separated from their appropriate places."

"Maybe if we just tweak it here..." Zan suggested, connecting two loose wires that were barely touching, although not enough for a real connection.

She yelped as the computer came back online, blinking purple again, but this time there was no sound. She looked at Mark.

Mark returned the look. "Well. Perhaps we should begin looking for more such loose connections?" he questioned.

"Ya. But lets keep track of what we're doing, so if we do something bad to it we can put it back."

Mark agreed, and the two set to work.



"Hey, you know the new girls they're bringing in?" Asked Mindy without preamble as she and Charlotte entered the room.

"What about them?" Zan asked, thinking it was a good thing they had unplugged the computer until they figured out what to do with it. It was forming sentences now, although they didn't make much sense yet. A few more connections......

"There's 20 of them. Apparently some little home burned down or something, and they're all coming here." She added at Zan's surprised look. Even a home as big as this didn't get THAT many girls all at once! "I heard it'll be at least six months till they get funding to rebuild, so they just decided to move the girls permanently and place new ones in the other place when it's rebuilt."

"Um. And you're point is?"Zan replied dubiously. Mindy wouldn't be telling her this if it was going to be a good thing.

"Her point," Charlotte interrupted, "Is that they're putting all of them in these three rooms, since the two on either side are already clear. They're installing bunks so the girls can get used to us gradually. You know, they all room together, so they don't get lonesome. We gotta clear out."

"Where are they putting us?" Zan asked. Some of the other rooms weren't big enough to put her computer in.

"Well, me and Charlotte are being put into spare beds in other rooms. You and the two extra girls i don't know what they're doing with." Misty replied. "You're supposed to report to your supervisor for instructions."

"She's in the office," Charlotte added helpfully. All the rooms had a supervisor to report any problems to. There were 6 supervisors in all, so they didn't have very much time to devote to the girls individually.

Zan nodded, heading out the door.

Zan dropped her bundle of clothes on the bed, next to the things she'd recovered from storage in the basement. The supervisor had said that she could either bunk on the floor in a room (which was what the other two girls were doing. Girls came and went on a weekly basis, so a bed would free up quickly), until better accommodations were available, or she could sleep in one of the attic rooms. The attic rooms weren't well insulated, and the heating didn't always work, so the woman had tried to discourage this, but Zan had convinced her that she could get Mark to lend her a space heater. The prospect of having her own room had been fantastic! there wouldn't be any problems working on the computer, and Mark could stay till his parents came without her roommates throwing him out so they could fuss over hair and make-up and clothes. If she picked the right room, he'd be able to see the drive, so he could be in the common room where he was supposed to be after 9:30pm. Plus she'd just wanted her own room!

She happily flopped down in an old chair she'd found when she had been cannibalizing the other rooms for furniture. There seemed to be so much room with just her stuff and only one bed. She sighed. She couldn't wait till Mark came in the next day, so she pulled herself over to the desk and began working on the computer again.



Zan looked up in surprise as Mark walked into the room. "What are you doing here?" she asked, startled. It was Tuesday, and Mark's mother had the day off, so he usually stayed home.

My Mother is here, too," He replied, sitting on her bed and grinning at her. "They're making me go visit my aunt Sylvia, and since there is nothing out there, not even stores, they're letting me bring a friend. Mother is talking to the Board to see if they'll let you come with me." His grin got bigger at her stunned expression. "Oh," he added, "I told them i already talked to you about it, so go along if they ask."

Wouldn't your mother know you didn't already talk to me if she just told you about it?" Zan asked skeptically.
"I told Mother that Father told me about it, and vice versa. They won't bother looking for another explanation, they don't really care." he replied calmly.

"Oh..." Zan replied awkwardly.

"Mother always gets what she wants, so you might as well start packing, we'll be leaving for the airport tonight."> Mark said, his grin returning suddenly.

"So soon?" She asked, startled. "And they just told you about this yesterday?"

"Last night," He corrected her. "They forgot. They forget me a lot."

"They can't forget you that much, they remember to pick you up and drop you off every day." she said quietly. she had always envied Mark his parents. It had never occurred to her that he might not be happy with them.

"Driver does that," he answered.

There was a short pause while Zan digested that. "I didn't think you had that much money," She ventured finally.

Mark grinned again. "We don't," he replied. "It's a three hour commute to the city, and they hire the driver so they can work on the way. i guess the profits justify the cost." He shrugged, not really knowing any more than that.

There was another silence while Zan tried to think of a way to change the subject. "Well, it won't take me long to pack, but what are we going to do about her?" she asked finally, indicating the silent Moriah. They had finally found all the loose connections, or at least they assumed they had, and to their surprise, not only had the computer been voice programmable, but it had developed a personality as well! Mark and Zan had come to like the computers' acerbic wit.

"Take me with you of course," was the prompt reply.

"I believe there is a weight requirement on airplanes Moriah," Mark replied, "And you're rather heavy."

"You can't take a train?" the computer demanded, "Surely They wouldn't mind how much i weigh!"

"There's no trains out there," Mark answered, "I told you, there's nothing, not even a grocery store within about 50 miles. Mother had to hire somebody from town to drive us out there from the airport."

"There has to be something Mark, otherwise how does the woman eat?" Moriah responded acerbically. "She has to get her food from somewhere!

"Now she does have money. She pays to have groceries airlifted in once a month. or so i've been told," was his enigmatic reply.

"Oh."
"Well." she said slowly.

"I don't really need the monitor," she volunteered after a pause. "And the second speaker is a bit redundant since i don't have stereo capability anyway." She paused again.

Zan sighed. "This is a cheap computer, it doesn't weigh that much all by itself."

"Erica has been drooling over my good speakers since i brought them here, "Mark suggested. "I could trade them for her cheap ones. One of them weighs less than a couple of pounds. That would probably bring the whole thing down to about 20 lbs. That should be acceptable." He paused. "Now the only question is how we convince my Mother that we should take the computer along when Aunt Sylvia has a much better model already out there. Particularly as we are leaving most of the important bits behind."

"How long are we going to be out there?" Zan asked suddenly.

"A month. My parents won't be able to afford another car to go out to bring us to the airport again until then, and Father refuses to allow Aunt Sylvia to pay for it."

"So you brought a lot of luggage?" She asked.

"A fair amount, yes," he responded.

Good." She said cheerfully. "Go get it."

Mystified, he obediently went downstairs and fetched his luggage. He set two large suitcases on the floor in front of the bed, and looked at Zan expectantly.

"Which one of those has the most room in it?" She asked, rooting through her drawer and pulling out most of the contents.

Mark indicated the smaller suitcase, and Zan grabbed it as she walked past. She put it on the bed, opened it, and began throwing her clothes into it on top of Marks.

Finished, she attempted to close the suitcase, whick adamantly refused to be closed. Not surprisingly, since it had been mostly filled to begin with. "Shut this," she demanded impatiently.
Mark reached in and began taking out her things, rolling them into neat bundles and replacing them one by one. "Why are we packing your things into my suitcase?" he asked after a moment, curiosity overcoming him.

Zan got down on her hands and knees and fished around under the bed for a moment, not answering. She pulled out a small suitcase, legacy of some foster home or another that hadn't worked out. She couldn't remember which one. Not for the first time she thanked the powers that be for getting her her own room. She would have had the suitcase in a storage room in the basement for lack of room otherwise. "I'm going to put Moriah in here," she said. "She should fit with the smaller speakers." Mark nodded. "I'll go and fetch them then," he suggested, "I'm going to disconnect you and take theses with me," he told Moriah, "just in case she takes it into her head to be spiteful about letting me have them now that i want them. She won't be able to resist if she can see the speakers themselves." he continued, quickly removing the heavy speakers and hauling them out the door.

Zan looked at the overflowing suitcase. "Well, sometimes the old-fashioned way works best," She said after a moment. She closed the lid and sat down on it, zipping the suitcase closed underneath her. The she unhooked Moriah from her monitor and set her into the suitcase. She frowned. The computer was slightly narrower than the case, she'd have to find something to keep it from banging around. Although that would be convenient also, as it would allow them to keep her hooked up while she was in there. she considered that the speaker should make up the difference on the side. Mark returned a moment later, bearing two small speakers.

"Here they are," he said, tucking one into the case next to the hard drive and hooking it up to the back of the computer. He started to hook up the other one as well, but Zan placed a restraining hand on his arm.

"They're really cheap speakers, and they're not made to be compatible with the computer," she pointed out, "We'd probably better keep one as a reserve in case this one blows."

"Good idea," Moriah volunteered from the suitcase."

Mark nodded, placing the other speaker above the first without connecting it. "You'd probably better be quiet from here on out," he suggested. "That's assuming we find a way to keep you hooked up in there, of course," he added, unplugging her from the wall. "I'm going to take the luggage downstairs so they don't wonder why it was up here in the first place."

The others agreed, and he took the two smaller suitcases down first, figuring he could explain having one suitcase up there by saying Zan didn't have enough room in her own to fit all of her clothing, so they'd put some in with his. But not unless he had to, as he was almost certain the Board would not be pleased at them sharing a suitcase. As it happened, they were both waiting in the common room for about 45 minutes before Marks mother came out to fetch them.

"You're leaving in 15 minutes, children," she said brusquely, "Be sure you're ready and waiting out front, the cab isn't going to wait for you." Then she walked out the front door, got into the car, and left.

Zan snorted inelegantly, looking disgusted. "She didn't even say goodbye."

Mark shrugged. "Wasn't really expecting her to," he replied.

He picked up his luggage, "Come on, we'd better get out front, then." Zan just followed him, reflecting that maybe she was lucky not to have parents after all.

Zan hung on as they went over another large bump. "Holy cow, no wonder nobod--y lives he-ere." she said, trying to talk between jolts.Mark just grinned at her, not even bothering to try.

The road smoothed out suddenly, becoming what looked like a long driveway. "We'll be there in another ten minutes or so," the driver volunteered, "You'll be able to see the house in less than that. Wonderful old place."

"How big is it?" Zan asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Not too big," answered the man. "Tho there's a lot of land around the place. The house itself is only a two story."

"Bigger'n i'm used to living in with just three people," Zan grinned. The driver laughed. She settled back into the seat cushions, admiring the view the rest of the way there.

The driver set the luggage down in the entryway, and waited. Mark pulled a check out of his pocket, filled in the amout, and handed it to the man, tipping him with his own money.

"Thanks" the driver said cheerfully, climbing back into the car and pulling away. The two turned to regard the woman they would be staying with for the next month. She didn't look very pleased to see them.

"I want to make one thing very clear at the outset," she said sharply. "Your parents," she continued, pointing at Mark, "Wanted you to come. I did not. I don't like children. If you stay out of my way, we'll have no problems. I expect you every evening at seven for supper. If you're late, you'll have to fend for yourself. Don't make a mess of my kitchen. Your rooms are upstairs, you can sleep wherever you like, except the room at the end of the hall. That's my studio, and i won't have you mucking about in there. Are we clear?"

"Yes, ma'am" Zan replied. Mark just nodded. The older woman left without another word. Mark looked at Zan. Zan snickered. "This could be fun," she said. "No supervision for a while month. I'll be so spoiled when i go back they might have to throw me out."

Mark laughed. "Come on, let's go find rooms and let Moriah out of her cage. And then i want a nap. I'm exhausted."

Zan yawned. "Me too, now that you mention it," she sighed. She picked up the medium suitcase. "You can have it back when get my stuff out of it," she said when Mark raised an eyebrow at her. they climbed the stairs, peeking into the rooms at the top. Zan chose the second one she came to, what looked to be a boys room. Done in blue, with plain wooden furniture, it seemed to suit her. Blue was her favorite color, too.

Mark dropped off Moriah and went to look at the other rooms. He chose a room towards the back because it had a large bay window that he liked. He'd used it the last time he'd been here. He put his suitcase down, and went back to make sure Zan was settled before he went to sleep.

Zan had the case open, and was talking. "...better keep quiet while we're in the house, so she doesn't get suspicious or anything. If we're lucky, we'll get to spend most of the time outside anyways. I'm sure i can rig up a battery or something for you." she continued.

"Car battery, Mark suggested, "I think i saw some in the shed last time, we could see if they still work."

"After we sleep" Zan added. Mark agreed, and returned to his room for a nap.

Mark shook Zan awake. "Wha...?" She said blurrily.

"Look," he replied, pointing out her window. She blinked, surprised. "What is that, Aurora Borealis or something?" She asked, confused.

"I don't think you can see the northern lights from here," Mark replied. "I was thinking we might go see. I can't sleep anyway. I think that nap the first day we were here threw my clock off or something."

"I could sleep," Zan said dryly. "But i want to see what it is anyway." She climbed out of bed and shooed Mark away while she got dressed.

Mark returned to his own room to dress. After a few minutes, he knocked on Zan's door.

"Come in," she said softly. He entered to find her dressed and holding the case Moriah was still kept in. They'd found some kind of small battery in the shed. Mark thought it might go to a motorbike or something, but he wasn't sure. In fact, he wasn't sure motorbikes even used batteries. But it worked, and it was much smaller than a car battery, so they'd fashioned it into a power source for Moriah with a few cables and some car parts they'd found. They'd tucked it in where the extra speaker had been. It had just fit when they took the cardboard they'd used to keep the computer from sliding around out and tucked the cables in where it had been. Sylvia's room was right by the front door, so they slipped out the back and went around the house. Mark had thought to bring the flashlight that was kept by the kitchen door, and a pair of walkie-talkies that he had left there when he was younger. They walked for what seemed like forever, following the odd light, talking quietly when they spoke at all. After a while, they crested a steep hill, stopping dead in their tracks. They just stood there and stared for a minute, not believing what they saw.