I nodded solemnly, not trusting myself to speak yet.
"Spirit never dies," Ariel said, her breezy manner abandoned momentarily. "Like energy it can neither be destroyed nor created, only transformed."
I turned away to watch the stage. The podiums and cameras were in place, and the crew had left the stage. A hush permeated the concert hall, which was filled to capacity. Nearly everyone had taken a seat. "Do you know what time it is?" I asked Raphael.
"Six on the dot," he said.
The lights dimmed, and a young man stepped out onto the stage. Clearing his throat nervously, he said, "Reverend Letourneau's plane has been delayed."
The crowd rippled with disapproval.
"It should only be a matter of minutes," the nervous aide assured the audience. "Rabbi-Senator Grey has nobly offered to begin with his opening remarks."
From where we stood, I could see the senator standing behind a heavy velvet traveler curtain. Like his name, his hair and beard were a steely gray. Though his body was trim and athletic, he looked at least sixty, perhaps older. Even from a distance, I could see the sharp glitter of his eyes; he looked meaningfully at the four of us, as though he understood the significance of our presence.
The crowd rumbled again. Like a roll of thunder, the noise started in the far end of the hall, growing louder and angrier as it moved up the rows.
"It's starting," I murmured, watching as the back row staggered to their feet. The maliciousness of Letourneau's plan made me laugh. "That bastard. LINK-Michael will cause a riot, and then some stand-in for Letourneau will show up just in time to pretend to calm the beast, making it look like Letourneau saved the day. Clever. Evil, but clever."
"What should we do?" Raphael asked.
"Keep the rabbi from physical harm," I said, pointing at Grey. "I'm going to see if I can distract the LINK-angel before any damage gets done."
The angels leapt up onto the stage as one. They made a strange sight: Muslim in turban and tux; Israeli Jew in full military uniform; and Asian New Age drag queen striding purposefully toward where Grey waited in the wings. To his credit, Grey seemed unafraid.
Security met the angels halfway across the stage, but was quickly distracted by the possessed audience swelling toward the podiums.
I settled into a crouch in the corner where the stage met the wall. Attaching the filament to my receiver, I entered the uniform.
Page? I scanned the uniform's contents for the AI.
Here, the page said, popping into view. Still the small mouse, his avatar looked rested. His whiskers quivered, testing the air. What's going on out there?
Michael has ... I choked at the mention of his name, my mouth drying like a desert plain. I swallowed my grief, and started over. The LINK-angel has been released. I'm going to try to stop it.
The mouse shook his head, and this tail quivered in fear. What are you going to do, Dee?
I sighed, but squared my shoulders. I don't really know. I'm hoping it will come to me.
The mouse icon blinked. A shake of its furry head transformed the mouse into a human image, with a face full of bewilderment. That's your grand plan? It'll come to me? Great. We're screwed.
You have a better idea?
The page's face scrunched up in thought. He was silent for mere seconds, and I wondered how many scenarios the page was able to run in that time. How about a blackout?
Can you do that?
I have access to Mouse's power connections, but I can't affect anything in the physical world.
An idea sparked, and hope surged briefly in my heart. So, what you're saying is that we need some terrorists. Someone who could, say, physically smash the black boxes in the subway system. I was thinking of Rebeckah or even the Gorgons.
The page frowned. If LINK-Michael has been unleashed, it might be difficult for me to get a message to anyone.
I'll worry about that. You do what you can to screw up Mouse's system.
The page beamed with pleasure. Okay. Sounds like now you've got a plan.
I nodded, even though the page couldn't really see the expression. We opened the connection to the LINK. Darkness subdued the usual glitter of the space. The angel's presence oozed around us, dampening the normal vibrancy of the space.
Shit, the page whispered beside me. This is worse than I imagined.
Go, I said. I'll get the message to Rebeckah.
With a cascade of light, the page disappeared into the ether. I stepped out into the LINK. The LINK-Michael had infected the crowd through the entertainment and news channel. My avatar interpreted the sensation by showing thick, slimy tentacles undulating through the ceiling of a tunnel and disappearing into the floor. The air held a charred smell, like wet burned toast. I grabbed the nearest feeler and yanked hard. Moist flesh slithered through my fingers.
You're not going to make this easy for me, are you, Mouse? I said. This time I punched at the waving palp. Continuing to pull and punch, I danced through the narrow band, calling him out. Are you afraid to fight me? Are you scared I'm going to kick your ass just like I did Phanuel's?
That got a reaction. Rearing out of the floor, two tentacles reached out. Their slippery wetness enveloped me. Curling around the body of my avatar, the feelers hugged me tightly. At first the feeling was welcoming and warm – dark, but not threatening, like snuggling under a feather comforter at night. Suffocating heaviness descended next. Panic rose in my throat, but the pressure in my skull squeezed tightly, pushing my consciousness deeper and deeper. I fell back into that place that I watched myself from when I was a practicing wire-junkie.
The distinct, floating part of my mind became aware of my body shifting in real time. The LINK-angel twitched my muscles, as if testing out the controls of a new machine. Through the angel's senses, I felt a familiar heaviness in my breasts. Observing my body in this way, I understood what had happened to Rebeckah's male sysops. Most men were still socialized to be able to distance themselves from their bodies – wire-wizards even more so. The more into the machine you could go, the faster your interface was. Thus, the LINK-angels were able to devour them whole.
On the other hand, most women were brought back, once a month, like it or not, to the sensations and needs of their bodies. That's why Sharron had been able to function where Rebeckah's male hackers had not.
Feeling the heaviness in my womb, my body was telling me I was pregnant ... pregnant with Michael's child. Michael had sacrificed to get me here, and I refused to let me down. No matter how hard and how deep LINK-Michael pushed on my consciousness, part of me stubbornly clung to the physical realm. I used that to my advantage now. Opening my eyes in real time, I thrust my back firmly into the corner, resisting the angel's command to stand. My body twisted with the effort and flopped hard against the floor. At the same moment, I sent out a plea for help to Sharron, Rebeckah, or any Malach on the web. As double insurance, I sent out a message to Dancer via Michael's credit counter. I told her that if she could gather enough friends to smash Mouse's boxes in the tunnels, I'd find a way to get her in the front door of some restaurant.
Before I could get a response, I was yanked away by searing pain.
Curse you, McMannus, Mouse said, with LINK-Michael's deep echoing voice. I don't want to hurt you – not really.