Apotheosis:

A New Story Of

Bubblegum Crisis

Part One

That one.

Oops, maybe not. How about--

Ack! Gonna have to get the new version, that one's--

Yikes! Nearly lost it --

EEEP!

ATTENTION UNAUTHORIZED USER, YOU ARE IN VIOLATION OF NUMEROUS STATUTES

AIE! GETOUT getout get out!

REGARDING THE EXTRATERRITORIAL NATURE OF CORPORATE COMPUTER SYSTE--

Nene cancelled the telnet session she'd set up in the Vancouver mainframe using the ghost account from the Geneva freenet, and hoped like heck that Genom's cyberwatchdogs wouldn't be able to backtrack her through the twenty or so steps she'd gone through before making this month's attempted invasion of the zaibatsu's primary secure data haven.

She slumped at her desk, rubbing the bridge of her nose. It was sooo frustrating, knowing that the skill and training that she'd spent most of her life honing wasn't enough to do the ultimate run. She'd been sooo sure that this was it, that she'd stocked her toolbox with exactly the right mix of utilities, that she was finally going to PENETRATE the defenses and get INSIDE the system and be able to SCREW things up ...

"Hoo boy ..." Nene muttered, reconsidering the images that had just passed through her head. "Maybe Sylia's right; maybe I am a pervert ..."

She gazed blearily at the digital clock that remorselessly told her that it was 2:31. Let's see. My shift starts at eight. My scooter's in the shop. The bus takes an hour. With all the Coke I've been slamming back, I probably won't get to sleep for another hour and a bit. It takes me about half an hour to get ready to face the world. Therefore, if I hit the hay now, I'll be getting a little under three hours sleep.

Maybe I should just have some more Coke ...

Nene's common sense kicked in at that point, and dragged her back to bed.

Her dreams that night were unusually vivid. She started out watching characters flash across a computer screen. Then her view pulled back until she could see herself typing away at a manic speed, wearing a blank-eyed smile. There was a phone cord trailing from under her "dream body's" hair to the terminal. Suddenly, the hands fell away from the keyboard, and one of them reached up and unplugged the cord from the neck. The dream body slumped over, as if it were dead weight. The computer sprouted a pair of very large bare feet, and walked away, playing a rather familiar song. Then Priss and Linna showed up, wearing devil costumes (complete with horns and forked tails) and carrying pitch forks, dancing around Nene's dream body, singing "Nene is a silly head" over and over in tinny voices. And then Marlon Brando showed up in a blood stained toga, and began to do an incomprehensible oratory. And things were beginning to get really weird when the alarm went off.

Nene crawled out of bed, dashed through her shower, and wolfed down her breakfast, washing it down with her first cup of coffee. She grabbed the newest issue of Cyberprep magazine, which she hadn't had time to fully read, and raced for the bus stop.

She examined the magazine while waiting for the bus. Its major article was on the next generation of datajacks.

Nene barely suppressed a shudder. Glimpsing the pictures that accompanied the article, including a diagram of the surgery involved, was probably the inspiration for last night's nightmare. While having a direct fiberoptic link between one's brain and the computer was the current vogue among the elite "system crackers", replacing the tried and true sensory simulation goggles and gloves, it was still an extremely untried procedure. All sorts of urban legends about people managing to accidentally upload their consciousness into a computer mainframe were told. They were almost as frightening as the horror stories of bionic research of the late twenties -- the tales of the man who bites his tongue, Billy Fanward, or of Iris Cara, who had ... but that story was just too bizarre to be believed ... even if it was true, and was the reason that the ADPolice had adopted their stringent "no chrome" policy.

So even if Nene did subject herself to the pain and expense of having a datajack implanted, she would have to keep it a secret, which would of course make the darn thing completely useless to her in her career with the ADPolice.

But what about your other career?

The voice was that of a voice actor in one of the shoujo anime of Nene's childhood ... seductive, compelling, with more than a hint of menace. But Nene had taught herself to ignore that voice, the voice of her own unhealthy fascination with danger ... at least, usually.

And yet, she couldn't quite get away from the thought that an implant would make it so much easier to slip into Genom's data banks. The problem was ...

The bus finally arrived at the stop, and Nene got on board.

The problem was that she didn't know how the others would react.

It was strange. She'd never have dreamed, when she replied to that help wanted ad nearly three years ago, that she'd meet the four people whose opinions of her were probably more important than those of any of her so-called "peers". What would they say if they found out she'd had cyber-surgery?

It was pretty easy to guess what Priss would do; Nene almost cringed as she listened to the imaginary, cynical, sarcastic, cutting comments that Priss would make on hearing the news. "Well isn't that just too damn cute? Now she can get so much closer to her true love ... ain't science grand?"

Linna would be just as sarcastic, but more subtle, and yet possibly even nastier. "Say, Nene, why don't you have them put in some kind of gadget in your stomach to increase your digestion? Deal with those flabby thighs of yours that way!"

Mackie would come after her for the tech specs. Which would be very annoying, since apparently he could think with either his brain or with his ... um, other faculties, not both. So he'd be thinking of her as tech object, not as another kind of object ...

And then there was Sylia. And Nene didn't have a clue what Sylia would do if she found out that one of her tools of vengeance was turning herself into something less than human.

The bus pulled away from the curb, and then stopped suddenly. Great, thought Nene sourly, some perpetually late twit ... why do people like that have to make life difficult for people like me?

Nene curled up in her seat, and closed her eyes. She felt someone slide into the seat beside her. The aforementioned twit. Nene resolved to ignore him.

"Are you interested in cybertechnology?"

It was a woman's voice. Nene opened her eyes and looked.

The woman sitting next to her was the most beautiful person she'd ever seen. She had large, deep blue eyes that seemed to sparkle in the early morning light. Her golden hair was drawn up into two buns on either side of her head, around two bright gems, behind each of which trailed a long tail of hair. She was dressed in a basic black suit. Even beyond her physical attractiveness, there was some invisible presence about her, that made Nene's heart speed up as she looked, gaping at her.

"Is there something the matter?"

"Ano ... no, nothing wrong ... how'd you know that I was interested in --"

"Your magazine."

"Oh! Yeah-heh-heh, that'd be a dead giveaway wouldn't it?" Nene, the voice of her superego murmured, you're making a fool of yourself. Bite me, she told her superego.

The woman was studying the article. "Hm. `Direct cyber- neurological connections' ... Goodness. It that not dangerous?"

"Well, yeah."

"Why, then, are you interested in it?"

"I'm not ... really. Just curious. It'd be a big help in ... some things that I am interested in, but I'm not obsessed enough to consider that sort of thing."

"Ah ... I see. You are a ... what is the term? A `cracker'?"

"Uh ..."

"Oh, please do not be worried. I have no intention of running to the police, shouting `Nene Romanova is the notorious computer pirate you have been looking for!' That would be horrid." She giggled, and Nene couldn't help but join in.

The woman examined the article for a few more seconds, and sighed. "It seems like a great deal of risk for a very small benefit."

"Yeah ... but some crackers will do pretty much anything to grab an edge -- even a little one ..."

"But not you?"

Nene thought about it, and shook her head. "No. There's things I wouldn't do for an edge. Lots of things."

The woman smiled sadly. "Then I hope that you find an edge that does not demand too great a sacrifice, Nene-chan. Ah, we are coming up to my stop."

The bus was approaching an old junior high school, surrounded by construction machinery. Nene blinked. "I don't remember passing this place yesterday," she muttered.

"Today is an unusual day, Nene-chan." The woman stood up. "Expect the unexpected."

"Uh ... who are you, anyway? I never caught your name."

She considered. "Just a stranger on a bus, trying to make my way home," she finally replied with a small smile. Then she walked off the bus, giving Nene a goodbye wave with her hand held in a "V-for-victory" salute. As the bus pulled away, she stood staring up at the school, which according the sign was going to be demolished later today to make room for a new Genom housing development.

The bus had gone two blocks before Nene realized that the woman had known her name without having to be told it.

* * *

Man fears what it does not understand.

Man fears what it cannot control.

To control, one must understand.

To understand, one must experience.

To experience, one must not fear.

This was the paradox.

Another paradox was that Aethan, who had no need to fear the cold, had nonetheless sat for two weeks on the exposed face of the Himalayan mountain where he made his abode, without even coming close to the understanding, and thus the control, he sought of the powers of cold.

This was rather frustrating.

He gathered his thoughts again, preparing to enter a deeper meditation.

Aethan, we require something of you.

He did not bother to open his eyes. "Go away."

You know we cannot do that. We need you.

"Find someone else."

There is none else who can do what must be done. And you have an obligation to do it.

"I have cleared all my obligations to you and yours some time ago. I have no more debts."

Not to us. To the Romanoffs. Or the Romanovas, as they are now known.

Aethan opened his eyes.

There was no one there.

"Anna Romanova has been dead for twenty two years," he stated.

She had a son, Aethan, and that son had a child of his own. It is that child, twice-great granddaughter to the one to whom you swore your oath, that we are concerned with. Her name is Nene, and she is not unlike her grandmother in her features.

"What of her?"

A power is aborning within her. A new power, unlike any before. We must understand this power, and guide its host.

He was silent for a long moment. "I am no mystagogue. Find someone else."

There is none else, Aethan, known among the councils of the wise as the Grey. You are the last.

The statement stunned him, but he did not let it show. "Until she awakens to her power?"

No. Then you are the last of the Old Magi. And she will be the first of the New. Please, Aethan.

He closed his eyes once more. "Where is she?" he asked, sounding very tired.

Tokyo. Or rather, Megatokyo, as it is now known.

"Of course. It would be there. For the past forty years, very little of note has transpired anywhere else ..."

Will you aid her?

He rose from his lotus position, to stand. "I, Aethan DeGales, Magister Ipsissimus of the Order of Hermes, shall guide the steps of Nene Romanova, until she awakens to her power. Do I fail in this, may my name be thrice-damned." He was silent for a moment. "Satisfied?"

Only you know what your oath is worth, Aethan.

He turned away. "Which one are you, anyway?" he asked as he went to dress.

One who loves you.

"That rules out Mars ... Venus? Is that you, Minako?"

The intangible voice was gone.

Aethan DeGales, vampyre and self-proclaimed archmage, shrugged, and continued to dress. When he was done, he opened the gate to Tokyo, and stepped through.

* * *

It is cruel to do this to him, the intangible voice whispered.

"It is necessary, as well," the woman from the bus replied.

You are not the innocent whom once I watched sleeping.

"That girl died long ago, Madeline."

Can you not even give him the hope of peace?

"We each make that for ourselves. A case in point."

And she began to methodically disassemble the internal structure of the Jyuban Junior High School.

To Be Continued

The characters and world of Bubblegum Crisis were created by Kenichi Sonoda, Toshimichi Suzuki, and others, and brought to North America by AnimEigo. The woman on the bus was created by Naoko Takeuchi and brought to North America by DIC. Aethan DeGales was created by Chris Davies. The preceding story, while incorporating aspects of motion pictures held under copyright by others, is copyright 1996 by Chris Davies.

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