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  And here, once more, the next installment of TWIL.
This might deserve a lime tag, who knows.
Screw meets his maker, serious questions are answered, 
universe blows up due to inconsistency in space time 
continuum.

  Enjoy.







"Okay nurse, I'm taking the patient out of the bathroom now
 and putting him in the water. There you go. Now
 hold on to these power lines. Hold onto them.

 Oh and here's some bread."


                               - Doctor Octagon







 (  :P  )
    








    5

  Das Uberdog was the name of a political activist who was 
famous for showing up Malcolm X with less preaching and more 
violence. They had both been killed in gang hits, but in the case of 
Das, it was widely believed that the Special Forces had been 
directly involved. It was certainly believed in the ranks of the gang 
that bore his name. Against the teachings of X, they included gang 
members of every race, united by their hate of the system. As long 
as they didn't hurt civilians, they had my support too.

  So as not to leave any evidence of their involvement in the 
firefight, the men from Das carried their two dead away with them. 
Chris led Weirham and I through the subway tunnel, along a thin 
walkway on the inside wall. There were five other gangsters with 
us, all armed with police issue automatic weapons. They were 
more or less silent, unlike the Taurs they had just cut down. It 
wasn't that they did not use all manner of drugs, but just that they 
did not need accelerants to keep them alert. There were no boys 
here; it was clear that you became a part of the gang for life. Chris 
had mentioned that he had dealt with them before, but neglected to 
say how far. 

  "Chris, why do you show up whenever I'm getting shot 
at?"

  "Maybe you're just lucky."

  "I'm not sure that's it," I said. "So what were you doing 
back there at the station? And where were you yesterday? You 
missed my fifteen minutes."

  "We were tailing your worthless friend here. Thought he 
might lead us to Wells' boss, but the Taurs got to him first and 
chased him here all the way from the Plaza. When he ran off with 
you we didn't know what to think. So we just kept following until 
the gun fire started and then intervened."

  "To hear him tell it, Rufius want's him dead too," I said. 
"Thinks he betrayed Wells, I guess. I promised to get him away 
from the gang boys in return for some info. Since you saved us 
both I'm sure he won't have any problem telling you too."

  "He had better not." Chris looked sort of grim. "I've been 
all over him ever since you killed our other lead."

  "Who?"

  He was urbane enough to give me two seconds and not 
answer.

  "Oh. Guy Jinn, you mean." I said.

  "Yeah, that's the guy."

  "So you did see me fly," I continued. "You weren't much 
help then."

  "We found the real Jinn's body in a warehouse on the west 
side, about half an inch thick. He was hung up like wall paper on 
the inside of an office. There were gang markings spray painted on 
him, maybe to throw the cops on the wrong track. Too bad I know 
every tag from here to the Aqueduct. We had suspected the 
possibility of another surrogate like Wells for some time."

  "So you were on the case before I met you?"

  Chris chuckled. "Yeah, for a few months or so," he said as 
we walked through the damp tunnel. "It was extremely hush-hush 
at first, you know, before little incidents like yesterday began, out 
in the open eye of the public and too hot to cover up. You weren't 
the first person Wells went after. When we found out he was 
working as a wet man for the I.M.R.H. we made stabilizing him 
our main priority. That's what I was doing when the two of us ran 
into each other at the man's house last week."

  I raised an eyebrow questioningly.

  "Not that I wouldn't have hollowed out his 'pan, given a 
clean grassy knoll."

  "So this was you working with Das Uberdog? Is that the 
faction you had mentioned before?"

  "Actually, no. The guys from Das do a lot of work for us, 
but they are not really part of the committee. It was the old woman 
who started the Cabal many years back. Back when she wasn't old. 
--As old. She admits to having had some personal involvement in the 
creation of the newest generation of Mandate tyrants. I guess this is 
why she got into this line of work."

  "They aren't really tyrants, you know." I said.

  Chris looked at me. "You know, the old woman would 
agree. If only the people would speak. She knows more about it 
than I. Don't let any of these guys hear you say that, though."

  "What's her name?"

  "Ah...I always called her the old woman. But I think I have 
heard her addressed as Mrs. White."

  I stopped and stared at him.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  "Oh, please. Mrs. White? Let me guess, she's currently 
unmarried?"

  "Yeah, why? You know something?"

  "Nevermind, I'm sure I'll have to get into it later."

  "Well, whatever. She's waiting. Come on, we gotta catch 
up."

  The two of us ran up the subway tunnel to where the rest of 
the gang was climbing into a van parked outside the tunnel we 
were in. Somehow we fit ten people inside, with a healthy eighty 
percent still alive. The van took us eastbound on the turnpike, and 
then north toward Ventiss business park. The buildings here were 
the tallest found anywhere in the city, and by far the most 
nondescript. These were where high school graduates who had 
made it big in industry lived and worked. They ran everything the 
Mandate would let them, and they showed it off. 

  We found a shorter building among the giants which was 
completely rounded in heavily tinted glass. Even the glass door 
was indistinguishable from the rest of the windows. Inside, though, 
the d�cor was early Italian Vogue. Like all aesthetically minded 
gardeners, the Voguists believed in chiseling angles sharp enough 
to sever flesh. Incomprehensible bronze statues and busts filled the 
three story atrium we entered, while wall hangings portraying 
vague exultant imagery served as a background to the warped 
aestheticism. But overall it was very absorbing, and I marveled at 
the precision with which the pieces had been chosen and placed so 
as to create the chaotic effect. 

  The Kafkan forest came to a crescendo at the center of the 
large room where a short, pretty Asian woman sat with a slight 
smile on her face. She had no desk or chair, but sat on the edge of a 
concrete fountain. Behind me, Das Uberdog went through a large 
door carrying their fallen brothers, and shut it behind them. 

  Weirham sat down on the floor and closed his eyes, with Chris 
standing nearby holding his weapon. So as I walked closer, I was 
the only one who saw the brightly colored piranhas swimming 
around, two inches below and behind her delicate form.

  I pointed to the water behind her and said "Doesn't that 
scare you?"

  She smiled even more and said, "Yes."

  "Then my next question may seem a little blas�, but-"

  "Why am I sitting here?"

  I nodded. She turned her head down at the water in the 
fountain and took a deep breath, still smiling almost amusedly. 

  Then, before I could do anything, she stuck her finger in. The 
surface of the water became a living blender and every fish in the 
fountain swam toward the disturbance. After a second the water 
became pink with blood, and I reached forward suddenly, yanking 
her arm away.

  "What the hell was that for?! Are you insane?!" I screamed 
at her.

  She slowly raised her hand for me to see. Five fingers, a 
little wet, not with blood. I raised my arms and said, "Ok, so 
what's the point here?"

  Still smiling, she replied, "The point, Mr. Screw, is that the 
fish want blood, not death. Each fighting through the others to take 
the first and only bite, none succeeded. If the ribbon is too short, 
no one wins the race."

  She stood up, and continued. "You must be careful what 
you read in your antagonists. Is it you they want, or merely your 
position? It is not because you are replaceable that your life is in 
danger. And there will be more after Rufius. It is because he is one 
of many that his position is so dangerous."

  "What do you know about it?"

  "A little, Mr. Screw. There is an elevator on 
the other side of the stone ship behind me. Take it all the way up, 
and when it stops, take the stairs. When you can't go any higher 
without climbing on the roof, exit through a pair of wooden double 
doors. The Cabal has been assembled and is expecting you."

  I turned to shout to Chris and Weirham, but the small 
woman shook her head. "They will join you soon. Now Go."

  I raised an eyebrow at her, and she sat down again on the 
rim of the fountain. But before she did I took her hand and kissed 
her little finger.

  "Don't lose sight of the nature of the beast either," I said to 
her. I walked around the fountain, under a marble sculpture which 
might have been a pirate-ship if it didn't look so much like a giant 
dog, and into a pair of posh elevator doors. The appropriate music 
played softly in one ear and out the other. And this time, I didn't 
mind at all.

  The building was a lot taller than one would imagine. The 
elevator took me half way up, and then I had to hit twenty-six 
flights of stairs before even coming to the air lift. I was not 
rewarded for my effort, either. 

  The mechanical elevator hum followed me throughout the 
halls and stairs, becoming selfishly perceptible, like a petulant 
child. But of course I was tired.

  Wooden doors concealed thirteen white haired women who 
were not happy to have been awakened in the middle of the night. 
But they sat around a marble table, and acted irritable. I sat and 
answered questions about my name, home, and recent occupational 
history. Eventually the other two followed me up, and the meeting 
of the Cabal began.

  At first Chris did not even acknowledge me. He sat to one 
side and listened inattentively while white haired women discussed 
the recent increase in Mandate restrictions on private and public 
business. Weirham stood in a corner and occasionally let out a 
little noise from under the fresh bandages over his arms. I tried to 
pay attention, but I was impatient to meet Chris's benefactor. I 
figured she was one of the women here, but none seemed to exude 
authority over the rest. My head hurt from all the running, and my 
ears still rang from gunfire. I was dripping with rain water, too. My 
expression slowly changed to that of an ugly frown.

  When the direction of conversation swung his way, Chris 
stood up seriously. "The procedure tonight became much more 
complicated than we had calculated," he started. "Hand-men of the 
Taurs tried to get to Weirham first, as we knew, but they eluded us 
back at the Plaza. I left Stitch in charge of the reconnaissance and 
protection, and he did his job well. Still, we tried to cut off 
Weirham's car as they chased it south on the Turnpike, but a 
second group ambushed us near the exit ramp to West Main Street. 
Again Stitch dealt with them. By the time we were clear of them, 
Weirham and the other trio of Taurs was gone."

  An old woman with a bonnet politely asked, "And up until 
this point there were no faults? Everything was handled within our 
means?"

  "Yes." Chris shifted his weight uncomfortably. "The wild 
card of course was Screw. There was no way of knowing that he 
would emerge at the right moment and help Weirham escape so 
successfully. All of the Taurs were necessarily killed. None of 
them are currently being followed."

  The women looked at each other. "What would you say is 
the likelihood of public reprisal?" the same one asked.
"Reprisal is certain. The procedure concluded itself on a 
subway train, full of South-side citizens. Screw can tell more than 
I."

  When I heard my name mentioned I jerked my head up, 
and thinking that I had dozed, quickly met every eye that was on 
me. They were smiling at least. Nice old women. "What? Oh. You 
want me to tell them what happened now?"

  "Yeah," said Chris, looking annoyed. He wiped the sweat 
from his forehead and sat down.

  Well, they didn't need to hear about Alethea, so I started 
with, "I was walking south on May Drive from a friend's place, 
when I saw a strange car accident." I explained what had happened 
in the few hours before, and left out unnecessary dialogue 
concerning my deal with Wierham. The women were very patient 
with me and did not interrupt at any time, so I got into physical 
detail I had not planned on mentioning. They ate it up. And of 
course they seemed especially attentive when I talked about my 
use of psionics to fight the gang boys. But not overly surprised. 
Chris' look of stress remained. When I finished, all thirteen women 
looked back and forth between Weirham and I, and then turned 
back to Chris. I yawned.

  "I brought them here so you could question them yourself," 
Chris said. "He (pointing to Weirham) is ready to talk if we give 
him some sort of asylum from the Taurs. Screw will also tell you 
what you need to know. They are both under my watch and 
protection, so don't even think about surgery."

  My jaw dropped and I stood up. But the white haired 
women just laughed quietly and one of them told me to sit down.

  "It is alright, that would never do for one of Chris's guests. 
Please do not be alarmed. Chris?"

  "Yes, ma'am?"

  "Take the bandaged gentleman to a guest room, and then 
see to both of your injuries. Are the boys back?"

  "Yes, they are tending to their fallen brothers right now."

  "Oh! I didn't know. Send my deepest condolences, will 
you?"

  "I will. The rest of Das is on their way right now from the 
house. I will make sure the Practitioner sees to them as well."

  "Very good. Goodnight, Christopher."

  "Goodnight, ma'am.

  He took Weirham by the shoulder and led him out the 
doors we had entered. They shut behind him, and I turned around 
again. The women of the Cabal were watching me and it looked 
like I was going to have to sit through another long meeting. I 
became even sleepier and my vision shimmered. The ringing in my 
ears was no longer remnant gun fire, but became the full blown 
piercing blare I heard only when the power was being used 
excessively. My head began to spin.

  "Oh, dear," said one of the women. "Mr. Screw is reacting 
to the merusion. Help him out of the chair."

  All the women were starting to look and sound the same. It 
added greatly to the dizziness. 

  "I, I'm..." I tried to say something, but my mouth was 
numb, and I was so tired.

  The air in front of me clouded up in bright patterns of 
color, tunneling vision, and I passed out. I came back briefly to see 
a few of the old women helping me onto a couch, and them poking 
me in the chest with something sharp. But I lost consciousness 
again and did not wake up for the rest of the night.

  

---------------




  I dreamt that I was sitting on a worn leather reclining chair 
reading a book written in my own handwriting. It was incredibly 
boring. And yet I kept reading without interruption. Moreover, it 
felt right not to question it. And when it feels right not to question 
yourself, that means you're already doing the right thing. Right?
Needless to say, I was kind of relieved to wake up. A 
shadow stood over me in a large room. Then he flipped on the 
lights.

  "Lazy Bastard. When was the last time you made it through 
a whole day without fainting?"

  "Fuck off," I said, sitting up under silk sheets. "What's this 
thing?"

  "It's my new cell phone. Dial it like this." He pointed to 
a textured gel pad.

  "Who do you want me to call?"

  "Zig. He caught me late last night asking if I knew where 
you were. I just told him you had decided to crash at my place. Let 
him know you're alright."

  I climbed out of the king size bed and Chris went to the 
door, crossing a white shag carpet. I could smell the lemon scent of 
wood stain around me. The room was very nice, and I felt entirely 
better, the exertions of last night the furthest thing from my mind. 
Better, except for my chest where there was now a large Band-Aid. 
I peeled it off, and saw a small circular scab.

  "Hey! What's this?"

  "Oh, that. The old woman told me she gave you something 
to sleep better. Personally, you didn't look like you need it. She is 
waiting for you in the lab. It's on the thirty-third floor. Hurry up." 
He opened the door to leave.

  "Wait! One more thing. Did Zig say anything about 
Alethea last night? Is she home yet?"

  Chris changed expressions strangely, and said, "Yes, she's 
home."

  "You're kidding."

  "See you later, Screw."

  I was confused and wondered why he was in such a hurry 
to leave. Looking down, I was in my shorts, and wanted to go see 
the old woman looking decent, so I started to search for my black 
canvas pants. I found my racing jacket hanging on a coat rack in 
the corner and was surprised to see that it was freshly washed. I 
also spotted a bureau, and figured my other clothes were in there.
As I crossed the room, I saw that my bed sheets were piled 
up on one side of the bed though I did not remember leaving them 
like that. 

  I stopped moving and stared at the bundle for a few 
seconds. Sure enough, it moved slightly after a bit. There was 
someone hiding there.

  Opening my jacket slowly, I pulled out my gun. It was still 
empty, but they wouldn't know that. Then I kicked myself, and just 
set it on the bureau; I was getting way too paranoid. I walked up to 
the bed silently.

  It was Alethea. She opened her eyes, and saw me staring 
down at her with a look of shock and spilling relief. She was still 
cradled with sleep, but reached up to touch my face with her hand, 
then changed her mind. I saw then that she was mostly disrobed, 
except for a pair of white knee socks. She lay still on the sheets 
with her neck slightly arched, in indecisive anticipation. Still in 
my shorts, I climbed onto the bed, and straddling her with my legs, 
bending down to kiss her mouth. Silent as I performed the 
obeisance, I felt, as I had feared, the weak unresponsiveness she 
first exhibited. But I was undeterred.

  "How did you get here?" I asked finally.

  "I took your cyc. I was going to get it back to There was 
nowhere to go, and this is where I ended up."

  Her eyes looked everywhere but at mine, until I ran my lips 
softly over hers again, and the tan skin around her neck and 
cheeks. I needed to know it was really there. My instinct fought 
with my considerations on how to respond, so I did nothing but 
wait for her to continue. 

  "Mrs. White brought you in here after she said you passed 
out. Your mouth was bleeding, and I cleaned you off." 
She paused. "I didn't know what else to do, and I didn't 
know whether you wanted to see me here, either." She turned away 
again, and I let her.

  There were a million things I could have said to get my 
point across, not to mention a few I would have regretted later. It 
was finally clear to me that Zig had been exactly right all along 
about her. She was like a child lost in a crowd of strangers. 
Insecurity, lust, fear, and the carnal desire to live outwardly like 
everyone else were feelings I knew only too well, and had faced in 
my youth. But the fact that her trust in me had died as soon as I 
lost it with her just once, made me realize the solemnity of the 
situation. The bead of tears that rolled down her cheek almost 
wrenched my heart in half.

  "Alethea, I-"

  She pulled my head down and I lay on top of her. She put 
her face in my shoulder and I felt the moisture from her eyes.

  "I never stopped wanting you. The other night was entirely 
my fault, and I've been burning with regret ever since. I am here 
right now because I went looking for you last night, and was 
chased around by the mob. All I could think about for the last two 
days was what you really felt and if you would come back."
She looked up at me, and I brushed her cheeks with my 
hand. She was angelic in the dim light. Flawlessly demure.

  "Honestly?" she asked.

  "Yes, honestly. Please, don't think of me as the things I've 
done. That is nothing compared to who I've become. I want to take 
care of you and protect you. It has to be me. It-it's just that... you 
are so perfect and beautiful and pure that I feel a better man even 
touching you. Shit, I have to, I'm sorry. I-I-"

  "You're babbling," she said. "You never babble."

  I shook my head. "I'm sorry again. God, it's just that I 
never ever meant for you to think I didn't want and need you. I 
couldn't take it if I found out that you ever saw me as someone 
else."

  I kissed her hard, and told her I would never hurt her again. 
We talked when it was necessary, and shut everything else out the 
rest of the morning. This time, though, it was more than that. There 
are times when all the talk and communication cannot say as much 
as a touch or a brush of the cheek can. I traced my lips along the 
pink scar line that curved under her chin. The sensation. She 
opened me up in ways she couldn't have before, and I followed as 
best I could. There were still things that both of us hadn't figured 
out for ourselves, but I thought that we had helped each other. 
Again, the lethargy I felt vanished, and it worked as ointment for 
my mind and soul too. 

  Prana.

  I had suffered my share of depression, usually caused by 
arrant boredom and supposed helplessness. I was at the place in my 
life where my happiness was always within sight, but beyond 
reach. It was a constant state of mediocrity that made my heart 
yearn for more, and not notice the things I did have. I was racing 
again, but I was suddenly unable to compete with others. I had 
found the girl I so desperately needed right now, yet was made to 
fear for my life and hers every minute. Fear makes you objectify 
things and that was the last thing I needed more of. It made me so 
frustrated, and it is in frustration that all manner of radical acts are 
done.

  In my past I lacked a basic element that tied depression to 
physical acts of self hatred. From what I remembered, faith had 
been rewarded before, and this was something I did not disregard. 
Using perception to predict my future is a faulty way of doing 
things. Nature always throws a wrench in the gears, and it was this 
openness of possibility, this freedom and randomness that kept me 
hanging on to the crude sketch of a happy ending. Maybe it was 
just my stubborn side, but I never wanted to give up when the goal 
was just a little farther. Sometimes having to reduce my thought to 
the ravings of a scorned child, I persisted. This, the current 
moment that I held Alethea's head in my hand, I knew my life was 
unfinished business. For the sake of fate and destiny I could not 
quit now. The security I felt around me was fleeting. When the 
time for action came, I would be counted among them. I thanked god 
that every time around every corner, that feeling still ran deep.

  A speaker buzzed from a small console on a night table 
next to me. Mr. Chris.

  "Screw, I guess you found Alethea. The old woman is 
waiting in the lab right now and wants to see both of you. I'm 
going to come down and show you where to go."

  "Ok, just give me a couple minutes."

  "No problem. See you in a few."

  I sat up in the bed, and Alethea slid onto my lap.  She asked 
me what I was thinking, and I said, "Oh, just resolving the course 
of my life."

  "And what does the future hold?"

  "Hard to say. Up until now it seemed like I was only 
planning for contingencies."

  "Like what?" she asked.

  I really didn't want to answer that. 

  But I had to be honest this time.

"The thought that it isn't always going to be like this. There 
may come a time in the near future where we have to choose 
between Life and the rest of our lives."

  "No, don't ruin this..." she started.

  "Alethea, I just want you to know what's going on. And 
what's gonna happen."

  "Screw, what are you trying to do to me? First it's five 
times around the room, and then you immediately start in on how 
your 'duty' means you have to kill yourself? I don't understand 
you!"

  "Who says I'm gonna kill myself?" Like I said, it was like 
she could read my mind.

  "That's where these little talks always go! I don't care 
about the past, I care about what it makes you do right now! I 
mean, the effort to overthrow the government does not rest on you, 
no matter what Chris has you believing. That's just egotism. 
They committed themselves long before anyone, including yourself, 
even knew about smashing each other with invisible thoughts. 
It has nothing to do with us! Can't you just stay here for once?"

  "Alethea, that isn't the only thing going on. There is more 
to this than a revolution."

  "How do you know? You don't know anything!"

  "Baby, it's there. Wells was a god damn peon, and look 
what he was able to do. If Rufius is as bad as they say, he might be 
invincible, and he's not hanging around delivering pizzas. I can't 
stand back and watch him wipe them out. There may be a war and 
I have no doubt that it will tear this city apart. I don't want it any 
more than you do. But if Rufius kills them all, I lose my friends 
anyway, and he is still out there waiting for his next chance to put 
a bullet in my head!"

  "But they know what they are getting into! You want to 
save their lives, tell them not to go at all. If they don't listen, its out 
of your hands anyway. And what makes you think the Special 
Forces aren't going to stop Rufius by themselves? Please, let Chris 
or the old woman go, you don't need to throw it all away!"

  "Alie--"

  "Don't you want what we have here to last? You said you 
wanted me, well here I am. If you go and get yourself killed for 
nothing, what am I going to do?"

  "You know I can't let that happen. But I'm the one Rufius 
wants, and I am in a unique position to get close to him. It won't be 
over until I confront him. It's now or it's later, and always on his 
terms. I am sorry, but I just can't run anymore. Holding you in my 
arms after thinking I may never see you again has shown me that. I 
have to know what he is. We can't live in fear of the man. Please, 
just trust me."

  Her shoulders dropped and she looked at the ceiling. "Why 
does this always happens to me?"

  "Nothing's gonna happen to you. Or me. When I finally get 
time to go on my vacation next month, I'll take you somewhere a 
hell of a lot nicer than this. Just you and me. Maybe Zig. I 
promise."

  "I've heard that before."

  "I know. I hate saying it."

  She sighed deeply. "It was all going so well."

  I took her hand. "Look at me." She did. "Alethea, I won't 
let this end."

  That pink lower lip.

  Somehow, I would never get far enough. No matter how 
much we both wanted it.

  I had to speak, to show how much I meant it. Pain is love, a 
wise man said.

  "Get dressed. Chris will be here any minute to take us to 
the old woman."

  Ten minutes later, Alethea, Chris, and I were stepping out 
of an elevator onto the building's thirty third floor. It had been 
briefly explained to me that one of the white haired women I had 
met before usually stayed in the lab. She dictated orders to the rest 
of the Cabal each morning in private meetings. Chris was one of 
maybe a dozen other members who were in charge of 
commandeering men and weapons to do whatever needed doing. 

  Das Uberdog was a great part.

  Chris left the two of us at the lab door. "The old woman is 
in there now."

  "Which old woman?" I asked.

  "Mrs. White. I told you about her yesterday, remember?"

  "Yeah, and you also said I was going to meet her last night. 
Instead I met thirteen of them. Was she one?"

  "Didn't she tell you about that last night? What did you talk 
about with her?"

  "Nothing! I blacked out a second after you left."

  "So you don't know about the chamber?" Chris asked.

  "No."

  Chris took a step back. 

  "Ask the old woman," he said.

  Chris stepped back in the elevator, and Alethea and I were 
left outside tinted glass doors marked 'Laboratory.' 

  I raised my eyebrows at her and said, "Shall we?"

  She knocked without a word, and the gates were opened.




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