DISINTEGRATION

Chapter XIV

The Night Everybody Talked

On her way home, Arone gave Mike two flickers which he didn't take. She sighed as she drove by a TR platform, onto which a moment later Matrix and Stallone teleported. They headed for 'DigiDiner' and the minute they entered it, Microsoft passed the restaurant in his hovercar ignoring his flickering SC.

He didn't go to Rawotzki's mansion, but flew around the office buildings and headed for the opposite side of the city - the Art Quarter. He passed some kooky buildings that seemed to grow out of the ground or hang upside down in the air. He drove smoothly through off-kilter streets, writhing and zigzagging among the weird buildings and monuments, fountains and art oases. 
He finally pulled over at a skin-art parlor in the shape of a tiny fortress with a huge dragon sticking his enormous head out through its gate and breathing fire. Mike parked his car at one of the magnet poles on the ground and entered into the dragon's mouth, a pleasantly warm wave of virtual fire swallowing him. 
Inside, the parlor looked like a dragon's stomach (at least, as the artists imagined it would look). Red walls striped with huge ribs joined over Mikes head in a glowing white solar plexus that sent soft lambent light in all directions. Every rib was an exit to a client room. In the middle there were tables with a few people who drank and ate quietly to a low beat of music that seemed to come from everywhere. The dragon's tail accomodated the counter. An old but very handsome man was on a bar hover chair in front of the counter. As he saw Mike entering, he widened his eyes and started applauding.

"Burn me whole and eat me ashes! Old bugger, I thought you were dead!" The man jumped off his hoverchair and shook Microsoft's outstretched hand, punching his shoulder with the other.

"Happy to see you again, Rafael," said Microsoft.

"Hey, Rembrandt," someone shouted to Rafael across the room. "Client in Rib 10."

"I can't. Give it to De Riz when he's done," Rafael shouted back and turned to Microsoft, examining him from head to foot. "I should be killin' you right now, you know that, bugger? Five bloody years - not even a flick! You lost your memory or what?"

Microsoft scoffed in spite of himself.

"It's complicated."

"It's better be, 'cuz you're gonna have to keep me bloody entertained while I drink my Inferno."

He waved a hoverchair over for Microsoft and scrolled the surface menu on the counter. Two red cocktails popped up out in front of them. Microsoft took a glass and the drink burst into flames for a second, then the flames subsided and turned into a thick glowing red lava that was icy cold and spicy.

"They call you Rembrandt now?" said Microsoft trying to change the topic.

"They call me all kinds of names. In fact, I could give you one. Which d'you like best - damn self-centered bludger or Adam Henry's bloody shitheel?"

"I'm fine with my own name, thank you very much, Raf."

"O'right, then. After all, I'm just a pestilent ol' fart, I wouldn't call on meself, if I was you!"

"Well, you didn't seem to look for me too hard either, for that matter."

"I ain't no girl, bugger. You didn't want to come visit, I damn sure ain't gonna go chasing you 'bout the city."

"It's not exactly that I didn't want to see you--"

"Spare my stomach muscles."

Mike couldn't help smiling. Rafael's favorite phrase stirred memories of the old days, though it was hard to understand at that point if Rafael meant 'don't make me laugh' or 'one more word and I'll be sick all over you'. The old man's wrinkled face was soft and magnetic, emitting kindness, which was why people found it hard to take offence of the inventive names he liked to give them.

"Anyway," he went on. "I never even knew you last name, or your essie UIN. All I knew is that you hung out with that piece of scum Rawotzki. When he showed his soddin' face here he asked me 'bout you, ya know. 'You seen him?' he asked me. 'Like hell,' I said. 'But right now I can see right through you, you slippery son of a bum,' I told him. 'And if you ever step your filthy foot into my parlour again, I'll take my laser and burn your promiscuous little danglings off!' I told him. He legged it like a shot wild boar, I'm tellin' ya." He chuckled and Mike smiled, realizing that he had missed Rafael more than he thought he had.

"When was it?" Microsoft asked.

"I guess 'bout a month after I last saw ya."

"Look, I'm really sorry I have disappeared for so long, but it wasn't my fault. There were circumstances."

"Nah-h, keep you long fancy words for your sweet lady. I'm pissed off, that's true, but I ain't your daddy, innit?"

"I wish you were..."

"Come again?"

"Nevermind. Look, I hate to ask you, but I need a favor."

Rafael frowned and looked away, draining his glass in one go.

"Did nothin' change? Tell me, did nothin' change at all?" Rafael studied the bottom of his empty glass.

"Everything changed."

"Why're you goin' to that gadget-stuffed eel then? That's what you want from me, innit? That's a favour you ask after what he did?"
Microsoft hated the thought of facing Rawotzki, but with everything he remembered now, there was no other option. Rawotzki was the only one he could talk to about Ford.

"It's the first time in five years I swear, I really have to see him--"

"My effin' goodness, boy, have life taught you nothin'?" Rafael put his glass on the counter with a loud bang. "He's still the same slug who banged your wife! Remember the last time you were here kissin' the cups, tipplin' your wits away? I'd told you what he was before and I told you that night - he's a sneaky-leaky little bastard."

"I don't trust him either." Microsoft was calm and sincere. "It's business now, I'm not going to see him as my friend, I need him and it's just business."

Rafael didn't look convinced; he spat on the floor, watched the white spot being absorbed into the surface, and got up.

"Just business, you say, eh? Fine, old bugger, that's your life. I've no right to try and save you from your own naffness."

Microsoft sighed inaudibly with relief.

"I owe you," he said.

"Oh, you owe me so much o'ready, I should of put you in irons, get a steel whip and have you haulin' rocks off my plantation."

"If you had a plantation." Microsoft grinned at him.

"Don't you worry, I'll come up with some hard labour for ya." Rafael grinned back and led Microsoft into Rib 7. It had been a long time since Microsoft had a tattoo, and he only had it to have an excuse to visit the parlor. This time the patch Rafael put on the right side of his neck was different.
"You updated technology?" he asked.
"You may say so." Rafael finished patching and took a step aside. "If you aren't back in 20 minutes, take it off yourself or it'll burn through."

"What will it be?" 

"I'll let you be surprised."

"Too many surprises this week for my taste...aw!" Microsoft winced groping the grained surface of the tattoo patch. "No anesthesia, are you kidding?"

Rafael smirked, opening the back exit.

"I'm still mad at ya, you little wheedler. Off you pop."

Microsoft rolled his eyes and went through the opening into a tunnel, rubbing the patch that started to burn harder. At the end of the tunnel stood a black car that looked like a little model of a submarine with no windows. This was a new type of cars called a hoverblimp. Hoverblimps were very convenient in the city because of the small size and they were best for long journeys due to the good wind shape. They were also perfect if you wanted to blend in. The side of it slid open, and Microsoft got in.

"I never liked those things," said Rivers looking at a black hoverblimp that whizzed past DigiDiner. Matrix followed her gaze and shrugged.

"Quite convenient I'd say. You could fly almost on the jet level in a hovership like this."

They fell back into the awkward silence they'd been trying to break through for 20 minutes. 
The terrace of the diner was beautiful, as was their glass table. DigiDiner looked like it was made of thin air that glowed softly now and then with different colors like aurora borealis. Everything was transparent - the furniture, the dishes, the ceiling and the floor, and it seemed that people inside were suspended in the air. 

"Mat," Stallone said, taking her eyes off the glowing walls. "You haven't been yourself lately. Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm fine," he lied avoiding her stare.

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it, after all, I'm not your close friend or...anyone close, but...I'd like to be."

Matrix turned his head towards the road watching the cars hovering to and fro.

"I'm worried about you," she went on. "Whatever's going on in your life, I'm happy to be at least a minor distraction."

He finally met her eyes. He struggled to hold back, but burnt inside to talk to her, or maybe, talk to anyone, just to get a load off his chest. She put her hand over his, he winced as if with pain, but didn't take the hand away for a while. Several silent moments later he freed his hand from under her delicate fingers, unblocked his SC display, slid some menus here and there until he felt a little pressure on his ears.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"I've put up a jammer, a magnetic dome around us that keeps sounds inside. It might be a little hard on the ears."

"I didn't know you could--"

"You can't. It's just...let's say I made a few developments on my essie." He lifted one side of his mouth. 

"Ok, but why--" He clasped her hands in his, and she froze.

"I'm about to tell you something...that I mustn't. Or shouldn't." He released her and leaned back rubbing his forehead and running his fingers through his hair as if about to tear it out.

"You don't have to be alone in this, Matrix. You can trust me, you--"

"When I was away for 2 hours during the conference," he began talking, so abruptly that she startled. "I was supposed to go to Microsoft to get the ring fixed, but I spent less than 10 minutes there. Before that I’d talked to Ford."

"S-s-so?" There was nothing bad about talking to Ford, or suspicious for that matter. However, Stallone leaned closer.

"He called me halfway, told me to teleport. I didn't recognize the coordinates, it was some office, I think, I don't know. We were alone, talking about the rescue mission."

"Is he worried about time-traveling? That we all may go be exiled for this?"

"There's more to it than just meddling with the law. The whole process is dangerous. I tried to talk sense into him. I told him we don't have this kind of technology to calculate the exact steps in order to prevent any changes to the future. They used to call it a butterfly's effect - anything we change in the past may affect the future in ways that can be even more perilous than leaving the things alone as they are."

"Yes, I heard about the effect, but do you really think it will go wrong?"

"I don't think, I know. You see, time-traveling is not exactly what you can study in a book, there are much more things to know. When I worked for the secret service, I've been through...a lot. I also learned a lot. Do you remember the dimension crisis, when the Anti-timetravel Law was enforced?"

"Eh, kinda. To be honest, I slept through my history lessons."

"Well," Matrix said. "Before the crisis, time-travel was considered the greatest invention of all times. Everyone was crazy about the idea. There were numerous attempts, but none of them successful until a genius from the Far East traveled secretly in time and recorded his experiment in the hope to become the richest man on earth. He managed to travel 4.1 millennia back in time. But then there was this volcano eruption."

"The Castle Rock volcano? I remember that."

"Well, it seems you didn't sleep through all history lessons, did you?"

She smiled. "The eruption didn't happen that long ago."

"Anyway, the volcano eruption was the direct result of the changes the time-travelling scientist had made back then. He might have just moved a rock, and the changed chain of events caused the volcano to erupt thousands of years later. The UN panicked; they exiled the man, engaged in tremendous propaganda of anti-time-travel. Then they put their heads together at a secret meeting of sorts and came up with this idea to make time-travel the highest international offense, but they kept the technology to themselves and continued researching it."

"But how are we supposed to proceed without the technology?"

"Well, that's where Ford's idea comes into play. He wants me to break into the secret service system and get the program to investigate the chain of events."

"Can you do that?"

"Unfortunately, I can. And he knows it. But that's not the point, like we're not in a mess enough already... Even if I get the program, it will take months to analyze the chain of events for the journey to go as we want without affecting anyone else. It's been almost a week since the boy got stuck in the tunnels - an enormous amount of time to calculate all the possibilities."

"But we don't have months--"

"That's exactly what he told me. And now he wants me to do something which I definitely can't do."

He buried his face in his palm.

"What do you have to do, Mat?" she asked.

The hoverblimp dived into the garage beneath the mansion, and when Microsoft stepped out, his heart sank. The smells, the walls, the baffled noise of the street overwhelmed him with familiarity. The driver was intending to show him in, but Microsoft waved him off, saying, "Thanks, cap, I know the way."

He walked up the dimly lit corridors resisting the urge to touch them. He used to love this place, he knew that now. It used to be the place where he would spend time with the only friend he'd ever had, the only friend he could tell everything to, who was eager to sacrifice everything for him... who betrayed him. Causse was waiting for him behind the opening. 

"Hello, old friend, long time no see," Microsoft said to the old concierge. 

"Mr. Stevenson." The concierge bowed his head. 
Microsoft followed Causse feeling like he had an audience with a king who was about to knight him. He desperately wanted to turn back, forget all about it and imagine he had never remembered anything, but then Ford’s face loomed, menacing and ugly, at the back of his head, like a face of an orc. He dismissed the memory and entered the main room leaving Causse behind the wall. 
Nothing had changed there either - same white walls, red flowers growing out of everything imaginable and the sofa... Microsoft tightened up when his eyes found the sofa and the man sitting on it who was looking at him intently, completely void of emotions. Rawotzki was dazzling as usual in a cinder unbuttoned suit, shirtless, showing off his dark-skinned torso with some intrinsic symbols tattooed across his abs. He was still; only his shifting bare feet gave away his agitation. Celestro was the first to speak; his voice sounded low and hasty.

"How've you been?"

"Fine. You?" said Microsoft.

"Pretty lonely." Pause. "I'm so sorry." 

Something in the tone of Celestro's voice and the way he had breathed the words out told Microsoft that he'd wanted to say that since the unfortunate night. 

"Microsoft, I'm glad you're here...finally."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I just thought you would never want to see me again. It's been five years of silence, I've almost reconciled with the idea of losing my friend forever."

"Are you kidding me?"

Celestro raised an eyebrow, and a shadow of doubt flashed through Microsoft's mind.

"You seriously want me to believe you didn't know why I haven't showed up till now?"

Celestro raised both eyebrows, now looking curiously at Microsoft without saying a word.

"I don't believe it." Microsoft slumped on the sofa beside Celestro.

"Mike, I don't know what you want me to say. I mean I understand I screwed up big time, I--"

"And you hiring Arone at the exact moment when it all comes back to me is just a coincidence?"

"Yeah, that. Look, I'm really sorry, but she's the best designer in the whole country. It was her who came up with the idea of flowers growing out of furniture. I thought after five years I could... there's no one better, really. Also I hoped I could...maybe, see you. We never talked properly after--"

"So, you're telling me you had no idea I didn't remember anything?"

"Didn't remember what?"

"Yeah, man, you screwed up so big that I lost my memory for five years. How about that?"

"Do you mean…Do you mean it was all in vain - me, feeling guilty, avoiding you? And you didn't even have a clue all these years?"

"Aw, don't turn the tables on me. Besides, Arone blabbed about your little adventure in the garden, so I still had a reason to hate you, don't worry."

"So, you're saying, now you do remember everything?"

"I do, but please don't think that I've come as a friend. " Microsoft rubbed the patch that started to burn harder.

"I see our good friend Rafael gave you a warm welcome." Rawotzki squinted at the patch.

"From what he tells me, your welcome wasn't warm when you showed up at his parlour. He'd also probably kill you if you called him your friend to his face."

"Yeah, we had a... conversation."
"And quite an eloquent one, I hear. "
"I remember, he didn't mind taking my money."
"I should of guessed you paid for his silence."
"He said he'd say nothing out of respect for you. I guess you are his friend, right? Have you paid him too? Because after an eloquent tirade about respect and ties of amity, he still took my very generous offer."

"Look, I don't have time for blabber, the patch's really burning. I've come to make you a deal. But first I'd like to see them."

"Them who?"

"The papers, Ford's rejection."

"Why--"

"Just give them to me, will you? I have a right to have them, don't you think?"

Celestro got up, fastened the only button on his jacket. The jacket glowed red like real cinder. Celestro touched his ear SC, and a projection of his office appeared around him. He walked towards the safe, put the finger to it and made some movements as if he was drawing a Chinese character. The safe opened. He took out two plates, closed the safe, and slid the plates along the projection wall to what looked like a portal. In a second, music started playing from the real portal near the hearth. Celestro switched the projection off and opened the portal. Mike didn't have to look twice to know that they were exactly the documents he had seen five years before. 

The plates felt cold and rough. They were also transparent, and the dark silver letters were embedded into each of them. Microsoft traced his fingers across them, mouthing the words: “I, Evos Mondeo Ford, first being duly sworn...I am the natural father of the minor child, Microsoft Stevenson... hereby relinquish care, custody and control...my relinquishment is irrevocable, voluntary and is given freely in a clear mind...give my consent should there be a person willing to adopt...I further waive my right to make any enquires, see or contact this child, or to financially or emotionally participate in his life and development..."
Microsoft turned the plate over - the letters weren't visible on the back, there was only a half-transparent 3d holographic image of an eagle against the backdrop of the national flag. Thin red fiber threads were running down the back of the document - it was definitely real. The other plate was a duplicate of his birth certificate and it had the same sprawling signature in governmental ink color incorporated inside. Microsoft knew the signature very well. The plates were painfully real. 

There was a long pause. Finally, Microsoft looked up, not because he wanted to say something, but because a new visitor had stormed into the room through the opening, about two seconds later followed by Causse Gantier wearing a panicking expression on his face. 

"You have a lot of explaining to do, br--" the visitor yelled, but froze seeing Microsoft.

"Mr. Stevenson?"

"Miss Takano." Microsoft put the plates on the table before him and leaned back on the sofa. "Well, it gets more and more coincidentally interesting."

DISINTEGRATION

Chapter XIII

The Day of the Statko Effect

The conference ended in a long debate on the ethics of teleportation, the term whose popularity spiked in a matter of hours the following day, as did ZP's ratings accompanied by poignant Rawotzki's quotes. The debate transitioned into infinite threads, both written and vocal, that captivated social lounges.

Ford was quiet and brief, exploding at a slightest irritant and turning the office into an enclosure of tiptoeing jittery lemmings and surreptitious whispers. Matrix seemed to be the only one who could speak to Ford without turning a hair. However, he got sulkier with every conversation which often turned into arguments ending up in Ford thumping away in strides and Matrix bumping his back against a wall, his eyes shut tight. Icon kept bugging him to tell her what was going on, but he would wave her off with a surprising persistency characteristic only of Icon herself.
"Soft Mat's gone rigid," joked IR Herschel. 

The team was taken to the next level; the training started. It was a wearisome chain of lab experiments with whoever was free serving as a guinea pig. The first day the ones to be in tubes with chips and pieces stuck to their temples were Microsoft and Stallone Rivers. Rivers was standing quietly in her tube like it was something she did every day, while Microsoft felt like a total simpleton since he didn't understand a thing of what was going on. 
IR and Augustine teamed up with Wireless Fitzgerald and were constantly enthusing over endless strings of numbers and letters scrolling to and fro around them, then mind-typing frantically. Microsoft was truly amazed as it was the first time he saw mind-typing 'in action'. The commercial for that new frenzy depicted an Apollo-looking tall macho clicking his fingers and causing several SC's of beautiful girls around him to light up with an instant message. The girls flocked around him and started kissing him all over the place. The commercial ended in the man's salacious voice saying, "It's like you're reading my mind". IR was far from a macho-type guy, let alone Augustine, and a tiny WiFi was hardly an image of a sexy girl, still the words buzzed inside Microsoft's head every time they clicked their fingers sending each other formulas, pictures and other jibber-jabber beyond Microsoft's comprehension. He realized he was bored to death. 
He yawned and turned his head to Matrix who sat in the corner of the training room, leaned to one side, tapping nervously on one knee, his other hand tracing his upper lip as if trying to wipe away an invisible crumb. Microsoft had been meaning to speak to him since their brief meeting at his house, but the training sessions started as an avalanche after the conference, and he got swept in them along with the other members of the team. Besides his resurrected memories and the anticipation of the meeting with Rawotzki had thrown him off his stride a little. 
Now, though, sitting in a tube like some sort of an embryo and boring himself out of his mind, the sight of Mat started rubbing Microsoft the wrong way, especially the looks he would give Microsoft at times - the looks a mother would give her child who is about to get an extremely painful injection. Mat had been a good friend to him all those five years of oblivion, it would be a pity if anything Microsoft wanted to do to Ford somehow affected Matrix.
"...Mike!" rang inside his head and he jumped up banging his nape against the tube wall.
"Are you mad?" he yelled back to IR. "I can hear you without the SC."
"It's not an SC, it's a different type of connection, and no, you didn't hear me the first two times I called you," said IR.
Microsoft mechanically grasped his right wrist: he'd completely forgotten that they'd had him take off the SC before entering the tube. The wrist felt strange without it. IR pursed his lips that gave his disheveled look a touch of juvie.
"Oh, sorry." Microsoft caught another anxious glance from Matrix and felt a little queasy.
"Is something wrong?"
"No," said IR. "I just wanted to say that we're going to try out something in a minute, so get ready, it may be a little... weird."
"No kidding! Weirder than a half-naked grown-up man sitting in a tube for hours doing nothing?"
But IR wasn't listening anymore, he had got absorbed in a new portion of figures and letters.
"Okay, guys, lean back and try to relax," rang in Microsoft's head.
He tried to relax and failed, then shivered, although he wasn't cold. Rivers was sitting propped against the tube wall, her eyes closed. Mike did the same, still sick with anticipation. Nothing happened for solid 10 seconds. Then there was something like a tidal wave that covered him and for a moment he thought he'd forgotten how to breathe. He was still in the room, still in the tube, but it was as if he was doing several things at once: sitting quietly, yelling at IR, asking Matrix what was wrong with him, making fun of Rivers, banging against the walls in panic and lying on the sofa in his apartment sulking at the whole world. Then the sensation (or rather the perception) ceased.
"Wow, what was that?" he exclaimed.
"You, my friend, have just experienced the Statko effect," said Augustine with a proud clap of his hands. There were a few things that made him happy, causing people to admire his work was one of the few.
"What effect?" Microsoft asked.
Augustine opened his mouth to explain, but was interrupted by WiFi.
"Statko effect is an artificially induced state of mind wherein a person exercises every possible option of behavior at a given point in time. Discovered and developed by Everest Statko in 2053."
"Great as the mount itself," said Augustine and an article with that same headline popped up to his right forcing apart the stripes of code. 
"Yes," continued Wireless. "But while his experiments were limited to the subconsciousness of a given person, ours has a multidimensional objective approach."
"That is, an objective list of all your potential life choices, so to say," finished Augustine.
"Incredible," said Rivers who'd just woken from the shock of the new sensation. "So, it means we had the same set of options, Mike and me?"
"Not exactly." Augustine stood up and began pacing like a college professor, raving in the opportunity to teach the inferior minds. "See, though the program is objective, working through the fifth dimension, it can't but take into account your personal knowledge and abilities. For example, if a child would want to know how chocolate's made, Statko effect wouldn't trigger in its mind a choice of signing an employment contract with a chocolate factory, because the child wouldn't know there is such an option, but in a multidimensional system that is an option since a child is potentially capable of writing his name of a piece of paper and working at a chocolate factory. This is the brilliance of it - the complete array of options."
"Yeah, it's way hi-fi, for sure, I mean I felt pristine, but what good does it do us?" said Microsoft.
Augustine stared at him, a mixture of shock, disbelief, contempt and annoyance in his face. Microsoft almost regretted he'd even asked.
"What good does it do? Are you serious?"
"Augustine." IR put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry to disappoint you but not everyone is a genius like you. Let me explain." 
He got up moving his eyes from Matrix to Microsoft and back, getting more and more excited with every word. "This is actually genius. Mat, you have to listen, this is actually brilliant. Augustine came up with this during the conference. So, you all know Zeno's paradoxes stating that the space and time regarded as space are infinitely divisible, that's what we applied for Diod Medina. The program regards him as a 'motionless arrow', in other words, it virtually divides every half of the the space and time in half on and on, infinitely moving to the point where he...you know...is supposed to eventually split up."
"Now you're talking like WiFi, get to the point." Wireless looked up at the sound of her name but didn't seem to get what Microsoft said.
"Anyway," IR continued. "What if we could induce multidimensional Statko effect for every individual atom of his body and rule out the options where any part of his organism is damaged, then we could 'unfreeze' him and reintegrate without any damage whatsoever! Just a simple decision-making, only we do it for him, so to say, and presto! - he's out."
IR illustrated his last words with a clap and grinned at everyone as if awaiting applause, but none followed. 
"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," said Microsoft. Stallone looked equally confused, so Herschel turned his pleading look to Matrix in the hope he'd understood. Matrix put his hand from his mouth to his knee, sighed and shook his head.
"I'm not sure it's possible." 
IR looked devastated, as did Augustine, even Wireless perked up a notch or two. 
"Matrix, you have to see the formulae, it's not as complicated as it may sound, we've done all the calculation--" Wireless broke off, because Matrix kept shaking his head. 
"Don't you think I've considered this?" he said sweeping his eyes over the room. "I've spent hours and hours thinking about what we can do. And yes, I saw your calculation, and I was impressed. It was indeed our only hope and I thought we'd found it. I've spent last night figuring out if it may work, but it doesn't." He stopped Augustine from speaking with a raised hand. "It doesn't, Augustine, there is no way we can make Diod do anything, because there's no interaction, no feedback, and you know it. Even if we have a perfect software to do this, it'll be inapplicable. We can measure, we can analyze, we can watch, but we can't change the outcome at this or any instant of time in the future. I know it's hard to accept, but be reasonable. If we meddle in, it can be fatal."
IR sat back down, and Augustine hid his eyes under his ginormous eyebrows. Wireless sank back into her codes, the air displays surrounding her made her fade and look like a projection. Microsoft decided to break the icy silence that had seized the room.
"So, what do you suggest we do?"
"We do what we're doing, but we'll take it a step further. If we can't go into the future, and our hands are tied in the present, we go into the past."
"So, time travel, ha?" Augustine appeared from under his eyebrows, steaming. "This is possible, right? Do you understand the principle of multidimensionality? We'll have to put a person into a reality without time or space where he'll be experiencing every minute of his life, including his future, in all the possible options all at once, and make him follow a very specific route, making sure we don't mess up the subsequent events."
"Don't teach me the string theory, Augustine. I've been in the secret service, I know exactly what it's like and what we're up against."
"Do you really?"
"There is a training process, and it's risk-free. With enough practice and right algorithms the target will be able to do exactly what we need."
"The target! Listen to yourself, it's not the federal army here." Augustine started pacing again, but now alarmed and angry.
"I'm sorry for my wording, but I know what I'm talking about."
"Do you? Do you?"
"Stop it!" IR jumped to his feet and went between Matrix and Augustine.
"What are you even arguing about? It doesn't matter if it's possible or not. The point is, it's illegal! We've ruled it out, Matrix, you said so yourself."
"Calm down, IR, I know the law implications of this."
"So, what are you saying? We're coming back to where we started? Time travelling right into jail? Or worse - exile?"
Microsoft shuddered.
"This is not my decision!" Matrix was yelling now. "Do you think I want this? We're all on edge, but you have to understand - this is our only option. We do this or let the boy die! I've tried to argue my case, I've really tried. But as much as I may say about the whole legal side of it, this is the truth - we take the risk or the boy dies!"
"He has a point," Stallone said. She had got out of the tube and was sitting on a hoverchair next to Wireless.
"So, correct me if I'm wrong," began Microsoft. "If we do this 'time travel' as you've put it, and anyone finds out, we're all going to jail?"
"Most likely, but--" Mat put an emphasis on the last word and glanced around the room again to make sure he had everyone's attention. "The Old Hundred is willing to take the risk. You all know he'll be the first to go down if it all shutters, but it's a secret operation, and we have an official theory thanks to you." He pointed at Augustine with an open palm. 
"However, it's your choice to stay on the team or walk away. That's why Ford wants to talk to everyone of us personally. If you don't feel like you can be in on it, the team will be reassembled to include those who are willing." 
Everybody was silent for another painful minute before Matrix decided to call it a day and give his colleagues time to mull things over. 
"Anyway, let's sleep on it, tomorrow is a new day and we'll talk about it when we're rested. After we've all gone through the interview and made a decision, those who've stayed will stick to the crisis plan - we'll continue training in multidimensional reality. We'll find one of us who's been the closest to the crime scene on that day, go on with decision-making practice, and make everything else ready."
Augustine threw his hands in the air and left the room. IR followed him without a word. Microsoft wanted to go too, but Matrix stopped him by the arm.
"Mike, how's your...are you okay?.." He asked the question but it sounded wrong, as if it wasn't what he meant to say at all. Microsoft turned to him, grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it lightly.
"Mat, don't worry, I'm in. I won't leave you alone in this." He meant it as an encouragement and hoped to trigger at least a feeble smile on the darkened face of his friend, but Matrix got even more sullen. 
"Yeah, thank you, it means a great deal to me." 
"I'm in, too," said Stallone.
"Yeah, appreciate it," said Matrix in the same dull tone of despondency and went back to his chair. He sat down and sank his head into his hands rubbing the forehead with the tips of his fingers. 
Microsoft thought that maybe he could talk to Matrix right then and there, but he checked the time putting his SC back on - it was late already and he had to be on his way to Rawotzki soon. He had to put off the friendly banter once again. He pulled his climate-control shirt over his head, bid his goodbye, leaving Matrix and Stallone alone in the room. 

There was Wireless of course, but she might as well have not been there. She was so absorbed in her work (obviously, working on the new plan) that she ran one of the air displays right through Stallone's head. Stallone jerked back as a glowing table of figures slid through her face and froze behind her head expanding double size at the movement of WiFi's hand. Stallone walked towards Matrix waving the displays aside. They closed back in after she passed, wrapping Wireless up in a flickering and shimmering membrane of colorful symbols, numbers and objects. When Stallone was close enough to touch Matrix, she reached out her hand precariously, but pulled it back changing her mind. He hadn't seen or heard her coming, so he startled when looking up.
"I'm sorry I scared you," she said.
"No, it's fine." He looked at her in confusion.
"I...I know you must be tired, but...but would you care for a...for a cup of...something?" 
He raised his eyebrows processing what she'd said and when it dawned on him that she was asking him out, he opened him mouth, but no sound would come out. He cleared his throat.
"Why...not?" 
She made a few clumsy incomprehensible movements as though deciding whether to sit or stand or jump or clap. She was sure it looked like she was experiencing the Statko effect all over again. Stallone clenched and unclenched her fists and breathed out: "Good". 
"Let's...um...let's go then." He got up. Another 'good' under her breath. 

They left the training room, and as soon as the wall filled in the opening, WiFi said out loud, "Hey, Mat, there's a tiny snag, though...Mat?" She raised her head and looked around surprised to find no one in the room. "How does that happen all the time?" she muttered and turned back to her codes.