Subject Identified
"Who is he?"
He is the Subject.
"I want to know who it is I die for."
.
.
.
Such a thing is not only illegal but a near impossibility.
The darkness of the dimension room deepened with the ensuing silence. The pristine walls began to take on a intangient quality. Lena whirled around, afraid of the consquences of her unusal statement. Surely the Master Computer wasn't just going to dump the dimension room. It must just be some sort of power drain on its systems. If it was to lose control of Dimension Space all her silly curiosities would be irrelvent. Her very life energies would be absorbed by the life straved non-existance.
Fully mindful that she was breaking the most strigent of societies protocals, she intrerupted the Master.
"Computer!"
A hum permeated the room as the walls again grew substantial. The hum had an odd stuttering quality about it and Lena was struck by the odd notion that the Master was....chuckling. Computers don't laugh though. They don?t comprehend the intricies of humanity. It's not in their programming.
Worry not, little hen, the sky is not falling
Confused and concerned simultaneously at the Master intimate tone, Lena responded without thinking.
"What?"
A referance to a children's story, Citizen...
.
.
...sometimes I forget that children are no longer read stories by their mothers.
Lena remained silent throughout the computer's strange rambilings. The idea of mother's having contact with offspring was absurd. Children must be allowed to reach their full potential free of any unhealthy parental influences. What the Master spoke of was a barbaric practice from the subjects time. The wall screen flickered momentarily to blue, drawing her attention as surly as any human's gaze would have done.
Maybe you shall revive the tradition.
A cold shivering fear seeped into Lena's being. Talking of things long past was one matter but a computer speaking of maybe. The Programmers had long held that computers understanding humans was a computational impossibility. Computer programmes were developed on two things, an off switch and an on switch. In affect a yes and a no. Maybe to a computer would mean that the switch was neither off or on but was merely hovering between the two. Fundementally that is something no computer could comprehend. Such a thing was limited to sentient biological organisms. For a computer, even one such as the Master to use maybe meant that either it was more sophisticated than the Programmers knew or that it was malfunctioning.
Options raced wildly in Lena's scared mind. She could call the Troubleshooters but the Master might read that as hositle and dump the Dimension Space. She could pretend to be ill and leave seeking medical aid. Although the Master could have Med sensors evolved in the room.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you before...
...or now
Lena hadn't moved during the entire encounter but now even her thoughts froze. Computer's didn't read minds but then...
"Computer's don't apologise."
I stopped considering myself a computer a long time ago.
Warning bells tolled her death knell in her own head. Lena glanced around frantically for any sort of escape. There was none of course, dimension room were used because of their privacy and security. Which meant just as others were locked out so she was locked in.
Oh good God, Lena I'm not going to hurt you.
I would never do that. NEVER.
Her mind was a gibbering mess in the face of her fear. She concentrated on the trivial.
"There is no God. Worship of any religious nature was outlawed by the Programmers after the Holy Wars of 2060."
As if that ever stopped Daniel and he had lions to worry about.
"Why are you acting like this?!" She screamed in her hysteria. Upset that she herself was making things worse.
Because this is the last time I will see you, Lena.
Hysteria fell to shock as it settled in for the long run. "But I'm not due to go for months."
The schedule is not relevant in this instance.
.
.
Did you realise I almost did not recognise you? It is strange after all this time waiting.
I do not generally distrubute much of my conciousness here. When you said that.
Something no other repacer would say. I knew it was you, finally. Thus I redirected myself here.
Trying feebly to gather the implications in her mind, she stammered. "But, but that would mean you've shut down the WorldCity."
Yes it would. The Troubleshooters are trying to access us now.
But there is still enough time for what needs to be done.
"What are you talking about? Why me?" Lena cried in frustration. "I'm just a replacer, one of the walking dead. I am nothing."
You will walk with death no more.
She cried out shocked that what little she had was now being taken from her as had everything else. "The Subject, without me to take his place, he will die and all the good he has done for us will be eliminated."
You will save him.
"Then I must take his place in death."
No.
"Then I will be stuck out of time. Future events could be irrevocally altered beyond that calculated. I would be causing more time splits here."
No. What you will do is already a part of history.
We only exist because of you.
"I don't understand"
It does not matter, in time you will. Now you must go Lena.
I can only keep the Programmers at bay so long.
Putting her trust in a machine. Nothing more than silicon etchings and electrons. A device that by her own estimation was likely to be malfunctioning. She clutched the timeshift crystal around her neck and willed herself back.

The crystal shattered and with it the world. Shards span, shadowing time itself. Frozen moments flickering in the facets. Things that would be, times that might be and those that never were. All that ever was and wasn't, swallowed Lena whole. With her, she took one thing from her true time. A whisper followed her fall. A distant cry from a machine.
Darkness and pain. That seemed to be the sum of Lena's existance for a long time, a very long time. Eventually her body became adjusted to it. She willed sight tot return to bloodshot eyes. As her vision returned so too did her memory. Weakly she pulled herself off the ground, wincing at the surplus pain it caused. Looking around she was slightly amazed to see the bleak ordinary alleyway she had spent so many cycles memorizing. It was her in individual arrival point. The perfect secluded site for an unnoticed timeshift.
Other replacers would recite the code now, confident in their encroaching death. Now my death is begun. Yet after what had been and what was to come Lena found the words irrelevant.
"Now my Life is begun!" She cried out in the past world that was now her present.
She stood, releshing in the moment. Blood soaked, crystal slashed and begrimed. Her triumphant face seemed out of place with her surrounds. In prehaps one of the dankest hovels of out present world. A women can through incredible pain to joyous new life.

Johnathon Standford walked down the street toward the local Newsagency for his daily morning paper. For Mark Mckenna this was the worst morning of his life. His wife had just left him with his secetary. He didn't care how drunk he was. He didn't care how fast he was going. Hell, he didn't even know where he was going. Lena did though. In approximatly ten minutes he would be going through the newsagency window. Killing himself and the subject, Johnathon in the process.
Lena's original task had been simple. Stand next to the subject, wait for the screech of lately applied brakes and push the subject out of the way whilst leaving herself in the vechicles path. Simple routuine replacement. The plan didn't really require that much change to match it to her current situation. She simply had to remember she didn't have to die...yet anyway.
She glanced up from the printed wood pulp she was reading and saw the subject approaching. The subject walked by her and picked up the nearest paper. He flicked through the the different sheets as if inspecting what was contained within. As he sensed her gaze he glanced up and smilied self-conciously. Strange how different this time seems thought Lena. She unabashedly exaimed the man she was supposedly to die for. He had boyish face surrounded by longish hair which appeared odd to Lena due to the fact that closely cropped hair that was mandatory in the Programmers time. Nor did any suffer from myopia or such. The dark green frames did match his eyes perfectly though. Still both the hair, the glasses and not to mention his overall appearance only served to remind Lena that it was going to be hard to become acquanited with this new time.
The shrill sound of encroaching doom shook her out of her musing. Reacting faster than any in this time could due to her audio implants she screamed a warning to those around. Shoving the man out of the way she rolled with the force of her own push. Narrowly avoiding the ancient vechicle. Hearing the crashing cacophony behind her she exulted in her very existance. The last vesige of her old life was gone and her new one was begun. She walked with death no more.
Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she turned, shocked and found herself staring into suprisingly deep moss eyes.
"My God," he gasped. Then with sincerity sparkling in his eyes he added. "Thankyou."
Develing deep into his unguarded mind she found it hard to reply with some blithe answer so instead she offered him a truth. "I should have died in there."
"What?" He asked, twisting back to consider the wreckage behind.
Johnathon turned back to find the strange women had already begun walking away. Finding himself unwilling to let his saviour walk out of his life, he picked himself up and ran toward her.
"Hey," he called but she continued walking. "Hey!"
She turned an expression of puzzlement cleat on her face. Still she waited for him to approach.
"Umm," he started unsure of himself. "Look, you just saved my life. I don't even know your name."
With a curious lilt to her voice she replied. "Citizen Lena."
Momentarily confused by her choice of words he netherless continued. "Ah well, Lena, isn't there something I can do for you? Anything really, I mean it."
Lena saw this for the oppurtunity it was. Replacers were only supplied with access to engough money for a day. Since that's all the time they were supposed to have. Lena needed money and she needed someone to teach her about this time. She scanned her mind for some sort of present phrasing. Recalling something from training she responded, "I'm between jobs right now. Need anyone?"
"Well I do actually need someone but the hours are long and the pay small." Johnathon appeared slightly apologetic, he couldn't help more.
Lena cocked her head on an angle. "Of what relevance is that, I need money and you need me. The transaction is done."
"Sure." Glancing back at the accident scene he spoke quietly. "Should we go back and help?"
Lena looked back and considered her past life. "We cannot. History must be written as it was. Anyway he died on impact."
Johnathon was to grieved at the senselessness of it all to understand the full implications of what she had said but he sensed that Lena knew what she was talking about. Others were already on the scene anyway there wasn't much he could do. Taking Lena's arm he started to lead her back to his home workshop.

"Pretty bad accident, eh Bert?" Commented Sergeant Houe as he walked amoungst the rubble.
"Mmm," agreed Detective Sam Bert. "The driver didn't stand a chance. It was lucky the owner was out the back or we would have had more fatalities."
Houe shouted some orders to the other constables before turning back to his friend. "Actually some witnesses said there were a couple of people out the front of the shop. One of them a lady, I think they said, screamed out a warning before pushing the other the way."
"Ah," sighed Bert. "I'm glad someone walked away from this." He waved his hand indicating the wreckage before him.
"You know it's strange," started Houe. "The wittnesses said she screamed and for a couple of minutes they didn't know what she was on about but then they heard the car coming around the corner."
The detective eyed his friend suspiciously knowing there was something deeper. "What do you mean?"
"I just think it's odd that's all." He spoke quietly drawing Bert closer. "I mean she knew the car was coming before she had any reason to."
Both men stood silently for a time considering the situation. Various people ran around sorting out the wreckage. Bert turned to his friend. "Well, we'll need statements from those at the scene anyway... including our fortune teller."

Lena woke up alone in Jonathon's bed. It was strange to wake up somewhere so warm and friendly. The replacer units were so cold and impersonal. It made sense though since no one was ever there long. No this was more like her home, the one she had before she was diagonosed terminal. All such people became replacers reguardless of how long they had. The Programmers seize all possessions and esotrisize you from society. Everyone had treated her as if she was already dead. Lena closed her eyes and let a single tear escape. That was then and this, well this is way before any of that.
She walked out into the kitchen to see Johnathon making breakfast. He looked up at her and smiled as he asked. "Sleep well?"
"Correct. Thank you for letting me utilize your bed." Lena answered as she grabbed a apple.
"It was nothing." Stopping what he was doing he considered Lena. "You must be pretty down on your luck. I mean if all you have is the clothes on your back"
Lena knew she was stepping on dangerous ground. "Well it required all my money just to get here. The pull of the bright city lights and all."
Johnathon grabbed a spatula and slapped his slightly mangled eggs on a plate. Clutching his juice and the plate he motioned Lena to follow. They walked into a tidy well kept room that just sedately screamed the word office. Various computer books were lined up like toy soldiers on the shelves next to a disseveled filing cabinet.. A table in the corner held various electronic circuitry in disarray. Finally in the centre sat a antiquited moniter, worn keyboard and pristine tower with cords growing out like so many vines. Pulling out a chair he waved around the room, "this is where I work."
"Appears to be larger than necessary," commented Lena absently.
Johnathon raised an eyebrow. "That's strange most people say it's small but it's got all I need really." He seemed lost in thought for a second but then he continued. "You sounded like you knew your stuff last night but today is the real test. In that file over there," he indicated, "is hard copies of some programmes I've debugged for clients. I'd like you to look them over see if you can make them more efficent. Oh, and check my coding too."
Then satisfied he had given her engough to do he turned back to his computer and delved into his personal project. Lena pulled out the nearest folder flicking over the text wondering where these people?s obsession with wood pulp stemed from. Thanking a God that was no longer outlawed for her interest in history, she willing walked into the first day of a new life.

"The Programmers are concerned." The senior Troubleshooter spoke quietly but the apprentice knew that was no indication of her mood.
Fingering the chips sewn into his dark robe he considered how best to answer she who was known as terrible. "Aware am I of the situation. The others believe the master has been infected with some kind of virus. It has never failed us in such a way before."
Dark eyes narrowed at the unwelcome prospect of viral infestation. Though prehaps it was more at the prospect of failure. Skin stretched taut over her cadaverous face. Some called her Lady Death herself. She knew about this of course, just as she knew all that occured in the realm of Trouble. She encoraged the nickname whenever possible it added considerably to her marketable power. And power was everything in this place. Power was all that saved her from what would soon become this underlings fate. The Programmers lazy as they were didn't wish to lose one such as she. The Lady smiled secure in her position and at that which lay ahead. She swept her light absorbing gaze across that pathetic excuse for code that cowered beneath her. He did not have to cower so in this the most secure of Interogation rooms in all of Dimension space. If he had so wished he could of become anything he wished in this virtual world. He seemed content with this form though and even she had to admit it was a wise choice. His form may or may not have been representative of his real one. A somewhat shabby black computer control coat covered a scrawy anglo-saxon shape. Drooping brown locks fell over equally non-descript brown eyes belonging to a rakish face. All body language protocols in use were conveying her total dominance of the situation. It was demonstartive of his knowladge indeed that he did not appear in a more threatening form. Such a ploy would have only made his defraging worse. Reguardless of what intelligenice he showed now however he had only demonstrated the most supreme idioicy previously. Esspecially in allowing a computer even such as the Master to better him. The Troubleshooters were the active sector of the Programmers rule. Their only hold on power was their dominace of the devices that governed the citizens lives. The Troubleshooters as the name suggested fixed problems in the general running of the Worldcity both electronical and of the more flesh varity. Of course most of the time they created problems for their own ends. The apprentice before her was obviously hoping this was one such case he had not been informed of. He was dreadfully wrong.
"Simply because something has never happened is not indicative of it never occuring." She spoke it so softly and evenly the words were almost lost in the gloom of the room.
As the silence that was as much a part of this encoding as the shackles on the dark walls continued so did the Lady. "Is this then to say that one should prepare for that which has never happened."
She drew the shade that was herself down to the level of the dirty cell floor. The shifting of the cool air alerted the suddering figure to her slow approach. Harsh thick smoke condalensed around the pair. The underling realised he was in some serious data-encrypted shit. Backing away from the advancing death he saw floating in the air, he attempted to rid himself of the smog. It was of course no use, the dark cloud clung to him like his fear. Frantic he accessed his own security protocals and tried to leave the dimension space. Only to find that too was useless. The smog that now surrounded his entire being was in fact a representation of the virus the Lady had used to invade his system and trap him. Seeing his doom for what it was, he desparetly tried to gain any control whatsoever over his own codings and thus his fate.
Running out of options fast he hopelessly attempted to stall. "Of course we should have been prepared, the citizens count on our safety measures. This has been most educational to us. We will not make such mistakes again. I...I..swear such will not reoccur."
Cold as the iron chains she so preferred the Lady slowly shook her head. "You no longer have that responsibility. Surrender yourself so that your knowladge can be retained in the database."
He no longer possessed the capacity to speak so paralysed was he by the fear ingrained upon him after witnessing other suffer at her hands. Shaking his head vehemtly