by tpmwrites

Prologue

On their twelfth birthday, children are assimilated into the Civil Network: they're fitted for their cerebral augmentations and given their System Authority Identification Codes. However, the most important module is the Progeny Port. This component is strictly controlled by the government so as to prevent overpopulation from overloading the network. The number of Progeny Ports freely offered to families is three, though more expensive plans could be purchased up to a hard cap of twelve.

This left a young Leben Täuschen, born the thirteenth child of the family, in a tight spot. Without another Progeny Port, the boy's father worried for his son's future. He wouldn't last long in this world without access to the Civil Network so Mr. Täuschen sought out a sponsor, someone to be his son's point of access.

He searched high and low and he found many viable candidates, from men who built the system to men who abuse the system. He didn't want to leave his son to the men who instituted the very limitations that drove him to this. Nor did he want his child left to men who flagrantly violate the law. He needed a sponsor who was part of the system, not above nor below it.

Then he found him.

It took longer than he anticipated, but just before Leben's thirteenth birthday, Mr. Täuschen met Sensenmann. Sensenmann was an Internal Assessment Officer within the Hardlines and also a renowned and respected Professor at the university which boasts the greatest coding program in the country. A fair man with a strict code of conduct. Just what Leben's father was looking for. Sensenmann, having no children of his own, not only agreed to become the boy's sponsor, but he also promised to bring him fame and fortune. But all contracts have conditions.

Birth

Leben had been staring at the same line of code for six hours now. It was times like this that made him wonder how the hell the original writers even built the system in the first place; it was so damn complex. With a huff, he got up from the interface and walked out of his apartment. He needed some fresh air.

He watched the city skyline blink awake as the glass elevator dropped the thirty-two floors to the ground. Looks like he accidentally pulled another all-nighter. He ran a hand through his hair and tugged at the tips, a habit born of stress. The doors slid open and dumped him into the main lobby. After waving a good morning to the groggy front desk attendant, Leben made his way out to the street. Thanks to a macro he developed himself, his eyes automatically adjusted themselves to the new level of light, even adding a few shaders to make everything more crisp. It was a simple and straightforward code, but tedious. He'd actually sold it to a few acquaintances who couldn't be bothered to make one for themselves.

He was walking on autopilot at this point, rolling that difficult code around in his head. His feet led him to his favorite coffee shop out of habit. He wasn't really one for coffee, but he loved the smell. There was something about it that helped him think. He walked past the counter toward the tables, the cute girl behind the register gave him a smile. He smiled back; nice to be a regular.

"Hey Leben! Over here," said a gruff and familiar voice.

Leben turned to see a man sitting at the table nearest the window, a simple black coffee in front of him.

"Oh, hey dad."

"I was starting to wonder if maybe you forgot again," his father said.

He definitely forgot again.

"Don't worry, I said I'd remember this time!" Leben sat down across from his father, "Sorry, I've just been so busy."

"That STREAM program Sensenmann got you in is really putting you through the ringer, huh? You're still enjoying it though, right?"

"Oh yeah, I love it! It's tough, but I like the challenge. And I think I've really got the brain for it, y'know?"

His father absently stirred his coffee, which Leben found odd since he never even puts anything in it to begin with.

"I'm glad to hear you're doing well, son. It's just... It's hard on your mother. She never liked this city, you know. Made her feel uneasy, even as a child. That's why we moved out to Sicherheit before we had you kids."

"Auswahl is a perfectly fine city, dad," Leben spoke soothingly, trying to assuage his father's anxieties. "It's one of the top five safest cities in the country. They showed the rankings in last month's issue of the Red County Herald. I'm sure you and mom saw that?"

"Yeah, we saw it," he began. "But just because someone says it, doesn't make it true. I've always trusted your mother's gut instincts more than some ink-pusher."

"Dad I—"

His father stopped him with a raise of the hand, "I'm not trying to convince you to come home, Leben. No need to argue. I just want you to be careful, that's all. Can you promise me that?"

Leben slowly exhaled through his nose, "Yeah dad, I promise."

His father nodded, a sense of finality in his face. He stood up from his seat, "Well, I'd better get going. It's a long way back to Sicherheit, even by train."

"Alright, I have to get over to the university anyway. Sensenmann wanted me to come by his office first thing. Said something about prepping for the final project." He started pulling at the tips of his hair again, "It was good to see you, dad. Have a safe trip home and give my love to mom."

His father waved his hand in such a way that let Leben know the feeling was mutual. He walked to the doors and pulled them open, his parting words drowned out by the noise of the bustling street:

"I pray I made the right choice all those years ago... Be mindful of yourself, my little surprise..."

*********

Auswahl Polytechnic University was located uptown, about a ten minute speedrail from Leben's apartment. The buildings were arranged in the shape of a C with a large quad nestled in the center. Leben didn't have to go through the quad to get to the Programming building, but he always took a brief detour through it. It was one of the few places in the entire city that was filled with bright and lush greenery. When he breathed in the smell of the soil and heard the rustling leaves, he thought of home. He thought of his mom. He felt safe. A family of woodpeckers lived somewhere in the trees, though he could never figure out where. He listened to their frenzied percussion for a moment and allowed the stress to melt away before resigning himself back to the world of concrete and glass. Though he brought the smell with him to meet his mentor.

To the inexperienced eye, Sensenmann's office was an aggressive mess. But Leben could see the purpose behind the chaos. Everything was where it was supposed to be. Like everything else in his life, Sensenmann's special sorting system was entirely unique to him. When Leben entered the room, his sponsor was typing away at his interface with a sort of measured rhythm which Leben had grown accustomed to over the years. He waited patiently for him to finish. With a final definitive stroke, Sensenmann spoke.

"You're late, Leben. First thing means first thing. Not second thing, not third thing."

"Sorry Professor, I forgot I was meeting my dad for coffee this morning."

"Mmh. No matter."

Sensenmann walked past Leben and out the door, stopping only to motion for him to follow. They both stepped into the elevator. To Leben's surprise, the elevator wasn't going up to the coding labs. Instead, it was going down to the senior faculty levels. Students weren't allowed down there, not even if they were in the STREAM program. He wanted to ask what was going on, but he knew Sensenmann despised pointless questions, so he stayed silent. He kept anticipating that the elevator would stop at the next floor down, but it kept descending until the absolute lowest level. With a cheerful ding, the doors peeled open. On the other side was a coding lab, but not like the ones upstairs. Something was different about it, though Leben couldn't quite put his finger on it. He followed Sensenmann to the console in the center of the room. Out of habit, he went to scan the chip in his thumbnail to sync with the system, but Sensenmann caught him by the wrist.

"Not yet," he said firmly.

"O-oh, sorry."

Sensenmann was always serious, but his current tone reached a depth that Leben had never heard from him before. The professor scanned his own chip and logged into the system. With a flurry of keystrokes, he carved a path through the code. Leben had trouble even keeping up. He saw certain words flash by on the screen: RESTRICTED, AUTHORIZE, NEW USER, SHARE. Then Sensenmann stopped typing and the screen finally stilled. The page was just a landscape image of a beautiful garden, vastly green and blooming. In the center of it all was a single iridescent flower with bent, white petals drifting lazily in a breeze. On either side of this flower were two text boxes. The first had the word "AUTHORITY" above it and it was filled in with Sensenmann's security code: BG0004. Then the other had the word "ALLOW" above it and a blinking cursor inside.

"Now," Sensenmann said.

Leben scanned his chip and his code popped up in the box: BG1812. When he saw it, his stomach dropped. But was it anxiety or excitement? He couldn't tell. Sensenmann touched the flower and it turned its bloom toward them and then the screen went white, the word "SUCCESS" flashing across it in large green letters.

"What I've just given you," Sensenmann began, "is the key to a prosperous life. But even prosperity must be bound by rules. So I need you to listen closely."

Leben drew his lips into a tight line and leveled his gaze to show his sponsor that he was listening intently.

"This is an all-purpose medical program, a miracle cure of a sort. Any and every virus that can afflict someone, known and unknown, organic and cybernetic, can be overcome with this program. Equipped with this, you will become a well-known and respected doctor, an Augmentation Technician. Fame and fortune will be yours."

"What? Really?" Leben couldn't help but smile giddily at this. "That's incredible! I didn't know a program like that could even exist. How does it work? God, it must have thousands of lines of conditional codes. No, millions! But then to keep all those straight and functioning it must have—"

Sensenmann raised a hand to silence him, "I'm not finished."

Leben fell silent.

"It can heal anyone, but it cannot be used on everyone. Do you understand?"

His brows knit themselves together, "Not really."

Sensenmann sighed, "There are foundational rules which you must obey if you're to use this gift. You need not understand them, but you must obey them."

"Okay, yeah. I get it. So what are the rules?"

Sensenmann held his gaze for a moment before continuing, "The program comes with a contingent protocol. It will tell you whether or not you're allowed to use it on a specific patient by flashing an hourglass in your right eye. If the sand is at the top, then you have permission to install the program. If the sand is at the bottom, then you are not to install it."

"O...kay? But if it's a cure-all, then why can't I always use it?"

"Because those are the rules."

"But what if—?"

"Those are the rules."

Leben glanced down at his chip. He had long since grown accustomed to its presence, barely even noticing the rough edge where it met his nail. But in this moment, that wafer-thin motherboard felt heavier than it ever had before.

Life

"Thank you so much, doc! We were worried that—" the young father, tears glistening at the edges of his eyes, looked down at his daughter's messy blonde head. "Anyway," he started again while pulling her tightly against his side, "thanks, doc. I really appreciate it."

Leben met his gaze with a kind look, "Don't worry about it Mr. Verschont. I'm just happy I was able to help."

With a final wave, the man and his daughter left and Leben was once again alone in his office. He looked out the window and saw himself reflected back like gossamer against the city skyline. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the imprint of the hourglass in the dark of his mind. He let out a breath of relief. Thank god it was full, he thought. He honestly didn't know if he would've had it in him to let that precious little girl die. She had come in pale as a ghost and wobbly on her feet, yet when she noticed the little bandaid on his finger she asked him if he was alright. There are no hearts of gold except those of children.

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands causing stars to explode in his vision. When he opened his eyes again, he saw his assistant standing in the reflection of his doorway.

"Yes?"

"Your next appointment is here, Dr. Täuschen."

"Thank you, Botin. Send them in."

The assistant nodded and pushed the door open fully and made room for the patient to pass in front of her. It was a young girl, college age if Leben had to guess. She sat down on the examination table. Her legs dangled off the edge, toes barely brushing the floor. He gave her a long look before speaking.

"What brings you in today Miss..." he flicked his eyes towards the file on his interface, "Verurteilt?"

The young girl loosely crossed her arms in front of her, cupping her elbows with her hands.

"I uh..." She bit her upper lip before continuing, "I've been getting these sort of... migraines? I guess would be the best way to describe it... It's in my temples, but sometimes it spreads to my forehead. It completely incapacitates me until it subsides..."

"And how long do they usually last?"

"Few hours. Sometimes more."

"Could be a displaced connection with your neural augmentations," he typed her symptoms into her file. "Have you suffered any head trauma lately? A fall? An accident?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Interesting." He typed this up as well.

"Alright," he stood from his desk and approached the table. "Go ahead and lie back for me. I'm gonna do a quick scan of your systems and see what they tell me, okay? You may experience a slight buzzing in your head, don't be alarmed. That's just your augmentations answering my questions."

"Okay, doctor."

Her voice wavered almost imperceptibly. He could hardly blame her, he never liked medical exams himself. There was just something about the whole environment that sets your bones on edge. The cold, hard table and the bright, white lights...

Her authorization code was already linked to the system the moment she checked in. So when he reached her side, an interface popped up between them. He scanned his own chip and her whole life opened up before him. Nothing jumped out at him at first. The hardware was all good and functioning properly. He removed that layer from the screen. Now he saw it. Something was in the software, something malignant. No wonder she was referred to him; viruses like this are complicated to deal with. Well, complicated for normal doctors. He pulled the Flower Program from his cache and placed it on her file. The whole screen flickered with code for a split-second before blinking closed. Now Leben was simply looking at the young girl on his table. In his right eye, an hourglass flashed. His heart dropped. The sand was at the bottom.

He tried his best to keep the disappointment from his face, though he doubted he was doing a very good job of it. He touched her shoulder gently.

"Alright, go ahead and sit up, Miss Verurteilt."

She did so, though it was clear she was hesitant to ask the question. Leben silently cursed to himself.

"Is anyone here to take you home?" he asked instead.

"No, just me."

"Parents?"

"We don't speak. Falling out, years ago."

He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

"Miss Verurteilt," he said finally, "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for you. There's a... a virus in your system and it's already progressed too far. I can give you a prescription for a subroutine that can help combat the migraines. But that's all I can do. I'm sorry."

Yeah, so sorry. A doctor withholding treatment. What a cruel joke. Worse than incompetent, worse than negligent. Killer. Monster. Virus.

"But..." she said, her voice barely a whisper, "but you're the best... you're renowned..."

"That may be... But some things can't be fought... I'm sorry..."

"Is that all you can say? You're sorry?" Her eyes went glassy, "But you're the best. You can fix me."

"Miss, please—"

"Why won't you fix me?"

The girl on his table slipped away, replaced by a petite porcelain doll that was cracked beyond repair. Her little voice box looping and looping like a glitch.

"I wish I was able..."

She stood suddenly, tears brimming in her eyes, "You are able; you have to be! Fix me!"

Leben took a step back, but just as quickly as her outburst bubbled up, it simmered away. She slouched back down on the edge of the table, the tears finally running down her cheeks.

A security guard opened the door.

"I heard a shout. Everything okay in here?" he asked.

"Everything's alright," Leben responded. "But since you're here, would you mind escorting Miss Verurteilt down to the lobby please?"

"No problem." The man's voice was gruff, but it softened when he turned to the young girl, "Come with me, Miss. I'll walk with you."

She gave Leben a pained look, despondent and pleading, but ultimately nodded to the guard. He offered his arm to steady her and she accepted it. Their footsteps were a steady drumbeat getting more and more distant before fading entirely. Leben collapsed at his desk, cradling his head in his hands.

"You alright?" Botin asked gently from the doorway.

"How many doctors did she see before they sent her to me?"

"What?"

"How many?"

Botin tapped away at her tablet for a moment, "Twelve, sir."

"Twelve..." he repeated, the word heavy on his lips.

"Waive her bill," he said after a moment.

"Yes, sir." His assistant had grown familiar with this particular request.

"And pay for her other medical bills as well. All twelve."

Botin's fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before continuing on, "Yes, sir. Anything else?"

"Go ahead and fill out that prescription for her."

"Already done, sir."

"Very well. Thank you, Botin."

"Of course. If there's nothing else?"

Leben waved a hand to dismiss her. She walked out of his office, pulling the door shut behind her.

*********

Leben didn't often do house-calls; it wasn't exactly something that established medical professionals did. He had to make an exception though, APU had specifically asked him to do this as a favor. One of the conglomerate bigwigs who was a major donor to the school had fallen ill. Now that Leben was thinking about it, it suddenly occurred to him that he actually took a handful of classes in the building named after the man: Schummeln Hall.

Now he was on an elevator headed to the upper floors of the Schummeln company building. Apparently the uppermost floors were where the Schummeln family lived. Convenient, living above the company you run. Leben chuckled to himself at the absurdity of it. The lift attendant gave him a sideways glance, but didn't say anything of it. As the elevator slowed down, Leben cleared his throat and put up his professional front.

The doors opened and he walked right into a living room. Opulence. That was the word. He saw plush couches and ornamental crystal vases. The new attendant who was guiding him through the place had to slow down because Leben kept getting distracted by the beautiful objects on display. But there was one item that stopped him in his tracks for a moment: a beautiful painting of a man standing at the apex of a mountain looking down at the other mountaintops jutting out from the clouds below.

"Wow..." he whispered.

The attendant now stood at his side, "Caspar Friedrich. Wanderer above the Sea of Fog."

"It's beautiful."

"Quite."

"Wait a minute," Leben poked his head closer to the piece, "Those are brushstrokes! This is a real painting!"

"It is, sir," the attendant spoke matter-of-factly.

"Bu— How— Everyone does digital recreations now. Where did he find someone to—"

"It is the original, sir."

Leben stood speechless for a moment, resisting the urge to reach out and trace the brushstrokes with his fingers. He didn't fully grasp just how rich this man was until this very moment. Rich and powerful.

"If you're finished, sir?" The attendant asked plainly.

"Yes, yes. I apologize for the holdup. Please continue."

Leben took one last look at the painting before following the man through a door at the end of the hall. A large bedroom opened up before him, equal in splendor. The room was lined with wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows, which bathed the whole room in brilliant light. The attendant led him to the bed in the corner of the room where he was then passed off to yet another attendant. Though this final one looked like the head of the bunch. His suit was neatly pressed and, while the rest had bowties, he wore a tie, complete with a very expensive looking tie clip and matching cufflinks. He looked at Leben with a brusque severity in his eyes.

"Doctor, glad you could make the time." He spoke sternly, though not angrily.

"Of course," he responded, quieter than he intended.

"This is Mr. Schummeln." He waved a hand towards the figure lying in the bed.

Mr. Schummeln was a large man with a slight roundness in his face. His hairline was receding and his goatee was beginning to gray. The lines in his face spoke not only of age, but also of experience. This was a man who lived life and fought for what he's earned. There was something about him that reminded Leben of his own father, though they looked nothing alike.

The head attendant spoke once more, "He informed me that you may begin your examination now. There's no need to wait for him to wake. And for your trouble, he is prepared to reward you handsomely. Whether it's money or anything you saw in this building that you liked. You may take your pick."

"Really?" Leben almost choked on the word.

"But only," he spoke slowly, ensuring he was being heard, "if you can cure him. If you can't, then you leave with nothing."

"I will do everything I'm able," Leben assured the man.

As he was about to pull up Mr. Schummeln's files and tap his own chip into the local system, one of the side doors to the bedroom burst open and a girl of about 21 ran into the room toward the bed. Her pastel pink hair was a mess, as though she had just woken up.

"Are you the doctor?" she asked as she reached them.

"Miss Schatzi, please return to your room. The doctor is about to begin his examination." The head attendant spoke gently to her.

She sidestepped him and grabbed Leben's hand, "Please, doctor. Please save my father." Tears filled her eyes, "I can't bear to lose him..."

The head attendant tenderly gripped her shoulders and began to walk her from the room with kind words and encouragement. She looked back at Leben, a question in her eyes.

"I'll do everything I can, Miss," he assured her as the door closed between them.

The room was silent for a moment. Leben was unsure whether or not he should wait for the head attendant to return to proceed with the examination. He glanced to the previous attendant who was now stationed by the door to the hallway, but he offered no insight.

"She's such a good girl, don't you think, doctor?"

"Mr. Schummeln! I apologize; I didn't mean to wake you."

"Ah, that's alright," he said. "Not your fault. My daughter's had a knack for disrupting my life since the day she was born." He chuckled tenderly.

Leben laughed too, "Yeah, I can see that."

"Well doctor, should I just remain like this for the examination?"

"Yes, that's perfectly fine."

"My file's already loaded up for you. You should have access to everything you need from right there beside the bed. I'll be quiet now so you can work."

"Alright, sir. This shouldn't take too long."

Leben pulled up the interface and sorted the files to his preference. The other doctors had been thorough, every millimeter of his augmentations had been accounted for and all connections verified. They recorded the virus's effects and trajectory. They just couldn't combat it. His whole system was shutting down. If left untreated, he'd be dead within the week.

He dragged the Flower Program and dropped it into the file. It began its scan. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to read the files. Or even sincerely studied medicine to begin with. It didn't matter what the file said or whether or not he understood it. He was a slave to the Flower anyway. He supposed it was because this way he at least felt honest. If he couldn't save everyone, he would at least have the decency to look them in the eye and truly see them.

The hourglass flickered to life in his eye. Empty.

"Damn it..." he mumbled.

"What is it?" Mr. Schummeln asked.

"It's uh... It's pretty serious, sir."

The head attendant returned to the room as Leben uttered these words.

"Well," he started, "serious or no, you will cure him. Or you will not be paid."

"You will be paid, doctor," Mr. Schummeln said flatly. "You just won't be rewarded. I know it's serious... That's why I called for the best. Please, doctor. Do what you can. If not for me, then for my daughter."

Leben chewed his lip. What could he do? He wasn't allowed to use the program. That was the one rule. If the hourglass comes up with the sand at the bottom, then he wasn't allowed to cure them. He hated this feeling. He thought he'd at least grow accustomed to it one day, but it seemed that would never happen. He cursed silently to himself. His hand absently wandered up to his head, scratching at his scalp and pulling at the tips of his hair. Then it came to him.

"Give me one moment, Mr. Schummeln."

He pulled up his own interface and began typing away. The hourglass continued to flash in his right eye, it would remain that way until he closed the program. He maneuvered to his optic network and quickly crafted a macro for the augmentation in his right eye. It was simple and rudimentary, but it would do. He clicked INSTALL. Suddenly, the vision in his right eye flipped upside down and with it, the hourglass. He turned back toward the bed slowly, careful not to let his altered vision make him lose his balance and stumble. Now when he looked back at the file, it looked as though the hourglass was full. He smiled slyly and ran the program. After a moment, the hourglass vanished and he uninstalled the macro, correcting his vision again. He watched as the Flower began devouring the virus bit by bit. It worked. He disconnected from the network and powered down the interface.

"Alright Mr. Schummeln, you should be feeling good as new in a few days. It may take a little while for the program I wrote to fully take effect. In the meantime, I imagine you'll feel pretty tired. It's forcing your systems to work hard, that side effect is to be expected."

"You actually did it? What all those other doctors couldn't do?" Mr. Schummeln looked at him with brightness in his eyes.

"I believe so."

He knew so.

The head attendant spoke, "Well, we'll have to take a few days to verify. Then you may have the reward of your choosing.

"Nonsense, Treu." Mr. Schummeln said. "I believe the doctor. If he says he's cured me, then he has. You can tell just by looking in his eyes."

Treu cleared his throat and placed his hands behind his back as though to say very well.

"What would you like, doctor?" Mr. Schummeln asked.

Leben thought for a moment. He didn't want to appear uncouth by asking too much. Though he did feel he should be rewarded for going around the rules for the man. He went back and forth in his head, losing ground with each rally.

"Honestly Mr. Schummeln," he started, "I'm just happy I was able to help. Whatever you choose to pay me, I'm certain it will be more than generous."

"Come now, son. Surely you can think of something more creative than that. Did you see anything on your way to the bedroom that tickles your fancy?" He spoke jovially now. Though that was hardly surprising, it was as though a great weight had been lifted off his chest.

"Of course, sir. Your collection is exquisite. It's just that I hardly think I'm worthy of owning such fine objects." Leben said meekly.

"Nonsense," Mr. Schummeln waved a hand at him and with the other he gestured to the attendant standing beside the door. "Gier!" He called. "Was the good doctor particularly interested in anything?"

The attendant walked casually but swiftly to the bedside, "He seemed quite enthralled by your painting, sir."

"The Friedrich?"

"The very same."

He eyed Leben with a newfound interest, a wolfish grin on his face. "Good eye, doctor."

"If that's too much, I'll gladly choose another, sir." Leben felt blindsided, struggling to backtrack. "Like I said, I'm perfectly content with whatever price you decide on."

"You may take it."

"Re-really?"

"Of course! The material is... immaterial. You were drawn by that painting just as I was when I first laid eyes on it. I'd be happy for you to have it."

"Thank you, sir. That is just— that is more than I deserve."

Mr. Schummeln laughed his hearty laugh, "Think more highly of yourself, son! You healed me when no one else could; you're a gifted doctor. And as such, you deserve a little luxury. Wouldn't you agree?"

There it was again, that little conflict within him. Why shouldn't he be rewarded for all he does? He's a good man, he helps people. What's wrong with a little something-something every now and then?

"Thank you again, Mr. Schummeln."

"No, thank you, doctor," he said with glistening eyes.

Leben simply bowed his head slightly as a way to dismiss himself, then did the same to Head Attendant Treu. He then followed Gier out of the bedroom and down the hall back toward the elevator. On the way, Gier informed him that The Friedrich requires a delicate touch and careful packing, all of which they would handle themselves. He should expect the painting within the month.

As Leben stood there watching the numbers above the doors swiftly climb upwards, he was suddenly gripped tightly from behind and squeezed gently. He craned his neck in an attempt to see who it was, but all he saw was a blur of pastel pink hair.

"Miss Schatzi!" Gier scolded her slightly. "Please release the doctor. This is very rude."

"Thank you, doctor," she said with a squeak and a sniffle.

He simply touched her hand with his own, "I'm just happy I was able to help, Miss."

She slid something into his hand before letting him go, a small piece of paper folded in half. He kept it concealed instinctually and then turned to face her. Her eyes were rubbed red and her nose dripped slightly. He smiled at her and she reciprocated. Then the elevator dinged and he boarded. Gier wished him well, reminding him again about the timeline of the delivery before the doors shut and he descended to the lobby. He didn't dare check the paper with the elevator attendant there so he slipped it into his pocket. He'd look at it later.

With another ding, the elevator slowed to a stop and opened into the lobby. Leben departed, thanking the attendant. As he approached the glass doors at the entrance, he stopped dead. The car idling at the valet station was Sensenmann's matte black sports car, the passenger door ajar. This couldn't be good. Sensenmann only did this if he had something urgent to talk to him about. Or if Leben was in trouble. Usually it was both. He looked around, but felt dumb for even thinking he could avoid this somehow. He let out the breath he'd been holding and walked through the doors and got in the car. As soon as the door shut, the car peeled out of the roundabout and got on the highway. Sensenmann was sitting in the driver's seat, but the self-drive system was enabled so he sat with his arms crossed in front of him.

"You broke the only rule."

A chill went down Leben's spine. All he could manage to stutter out was, "H—how do you—"

"Because I know everything. I see everything. Quite a loophole you found, Leben, but that's not how it works and you know it."

"What loophole?" Leben challenged, though he couldn't even convince himself of the lie.

Sensenmann simply stared back at him, disappointment in his eyes. He reached over and wrenched Leben's arm toward the center console. The next moment, Leben's network appeared on the car's interface. Sensenmann zipped through the files with one hand while the other locked Leben's hand in place. Leben's heart sank when his mentor made his way to the optic cluster.

"This clever little code you crafted right here." He pointed to the visual inversion macro flashing on the screen. Next to it was a little text box which read: Last Applied 10 min ago.

He didn't know what to say.

"This is serious, child."

"I know, sir! I'm sorry... I just—" am tired of letting people die when I know I can prevent it "They offered me money, you see..."

"Mmh." Sensenmann was silent for a moment, pondering. "So it was greed."

"Yes, sir. Plain and simple."

"I see. I suppose you're only human." He thought for a moment longer. "Can you promise me that this won't happen again?"

"Yes, yes of course."

Sensenmann studied his pupil's face, "Very well."

He released Leben's hand and the interface vanished. With a few swift inputs into the console, Sensenmann changed the car's destination. It veered off the highway just to get back on again, but in the opposite direction this time.

"I'll drop you off back at your office, Leben." He finally turned his gaze from Leben now, watching the other vehicles pass by out the front windshield. "Remember this conversation."

"Yes, sir. I understand."

Leben watched the sun disappear behind some clouds through the passenger window. Funny, he thought, they said clear skies all day.

Death

Leben stood in front of the Friedrich where it hung prominently in the foyer. He often got lost in those painted clouds, gazing into their wispy shades like the wanderer on the mountaintop. Though he often found himself wondering whether the wanderer was looking down on the clouds below or up into the unveiled heavens above.

"Honey, you're gonna be late for work!" called a voice from down the hall.

"Don't worry dear! I'm leaving now!" he called back. He then glanced to the small frame beside the Friedrich which housed a little note with a crease running down the center; a note that read: Give me a call. Schatzi Schummeln TR8080.

Schatzi sauntered out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped over her chest, steam followed her into the hallway. She walked up behind Leben and wrapped her arms around him.

"Y'know, I don't really understand why you just stand here staring at that painting so much. It's just a bunch of clouds. Go look out our bedroom window, you can look down at the clouds hanging over the city."

"Nah, that's different."

"How so?"

"I know what's below those clouds."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, it's not important; just in my own head."

"Mmm, you're always in that head of yours," she rubbed her cheek against his back and squeezed him tighter.

He spun around in her arms to face her and lightly kissed her lips, a hint of mint hit his tongue and the scent of her edelweiss shampoo filled his nose. He breathed her in deep.

"Well I'd better go, my little Miss," he said.

"Mhmm, should you now?"

"Yes."

"Then why aren't you letting me go?" she crooned.

He kissed her again, deeper this time. She threw her arms around his neck and melted into him. His lips traced their way down her throat until they met her collarbone; she could hardly contain the small giddy squeal that slipped from her lips.

He leaned in for more, but hovered just a whisper away, "I'll never let you go," his voice was like smoldering embers just daring to be fanned, "Even when I have to."

He pulled away from her, their hands tracing the others' arms until their fingers thread through one another and dropped into the empty air between them.

*********

"Doctor, would you like me to send the next patient in?" Botin asked with her standard professionalism.

"Give me a minute, Botin. Please. Just inform them that I'm running a bit late and I'll come out and retrieve them personally when I'm ready."

"Yes, sir." She shut the door with a light click.

Leben rubbed his eyes with his palms and then watched the clouds pass outside his office window. Dreary day. He hated days like this, they made everything feel heavier, made it harder to ignore the burdens. Though it's been a good day so far, patient-wise, but that only made him dread the next patient all the more. His luck was gonna run out sooner or later, this he knew.

Well, he couldn't put it off forever. He stood from his desk and walked toward the door, but Botin hastily pushed it open before he reached it.

"Doctor—"

"Don't be so impatient, Botin. I'm com—" He noticed the worried look on her face, "What's wrong?"

"Your wife."

"What? What about her?"

"I don't have a lot of details. All I know is that she collapsed suddenly and someone brought her to the ER. She's downstairs."

Leben blew past his assistant and clear through the waiting room. He turned toward the elevator, but quickly decided to double back to the staircase. The stairway door crashed into the wall with a resounding bang as he pounded down the stairs. The floor signs became passing blurs until he saw the letters ER in his peripheral vision. He burst through the door and onto the slick tile. Which direction was new arrivals? He tried to contain the whirling in his mind, but his feet wouldn't stay still a moment longer. He bounded up the hall to the right and skid to a stop at the nurse's station.

"My wife," he said between breaths. "Where's my wife?"

"Dr. Täuschen!" The nurse sitting at the desk could barely hide her shock. "I just got off the phone with Botin. I hardly expected you to get here so—"

"Just tell me where she is!"

"Right!" She tapped away at her interface for what felt like an eternity, though in reality it was less than a moment. "She's in Privacy Suite 4. Just go back behind me and take a right."

"Thank you!"

He was off again, pushing his way through the halls until he reached the room labeled with a large red 4. He burst in. Schatzi was laid up on an examination table, unconscious. The nurse tending to her looked up as Leben entered the room.

"Doctor—"

"What's wrong with her?"

"We don't know, sir."

"What do you mean you don't know?!"

"We examined her. Her augmentations have gone dark. We don't know why. There's just... nothing..."

"How are her organic systems?"

"All functional."

"Did you check all the connection junctions? And I mean all of them."

"Yes, sir. Twice."

"Virus?"

"Can't verify that without communicating with her network."

"Damn it..."

The room fell silent. Leben approached his wife's side and gently stroked her cheek. She was burning up.

"Get out." He told the nurse.

"Wha—"

"Get. Out."

The nurse left without another word.

"It's alright, dear, don't worry. I can fix you."

He synced himself with the examination table. His stomach dropped. The whole interface was just black. Her file was present, but empty. It was like someone just erased her entirely. But that didn't matter. It was either a cybernetic issue or an organic issue. And the Flower could handle both.

Her file was still there, which means he still had a place to drop the program. He pulled it from his cache and ran it. The interface flashed and blinked as the Flower took root in her network. Her augmentations flickered to life in response to the examination. Leben shifted his gaze to see through the interface to his wife's sweat-streaked brow. He bit his lip, begging the program to work faster. Then the hourglass flashed in his right eye.

Empty.

"No..." He collapsed forward, catching himself against the side of the table. "Damn it. Damn it damn it DAMN IT!"

He wouldn't lose her; he refused. He'd perfected his little loophole long ago, but he had told himself that he never intended to actually use it. It just made him feel better to know that he could. But now that changed, now he had no choice. He rubbed at his right temple until he located the minuscule bump. Then he pushed it into place. The virus he designed assaulted his network, everything within him buzzed as the firewalls were kicked into overdrive. His vision blurred at the edges, but remained upright. However, the hourglass twitched and flickered before being flipped upside down. It worked. He quickly activated the Flower program and watched his wife's entire system slowly bloom back to life. He fell to his knees; he knew the virus would take a toll, but he never expected it to be this draining. It was worth it though, it had to look genuine. His body was hot all over. Thankfully, the moment the hourglass vanished, so too did the virus.

He reached up and grabbed Schatzi's hand, "I've got you, dear, don't worry. I've got you."

The nurse from the nurse's station entered the room, "Um, doctor?"

"What is it?" he asked without looking up at her.

"There's a man here to see you."

His heart stopped. The sweat on his brow chilled against his skin.

"He says it's urgent."

"Did you get his name?"

Please please PLEASE.

"Sensenmann, I believe he said."

I guess it didn't fool him, he thought. Leben tightened his grip on his wife's hand. He refused to respond. Maybe he could just ignore him. Maybe he can just hide in here. Maybe—

"Come on, son." Sensenmann's voice cut right through Leben's bones. "There's something you need to see."

*********

The sound of the roaring rains and whipping winds was muffled more and more with each floor they descended past until it fell away entirely. Leben had never been in the Central Hardline building before. He knew this place housed the main body of the Civil Network and he knew that this was where Sensenmann worked, but that was the extent of his knowledge. It felt odd to be here. This place ran his whole life, everyone's lives. Every single interaction anyone has ever had has gone through the very lines that reside in this building. It was almost like seeing god.

The elevator stopped, but the doors remained shut. A prompt popped up on the screen beside the doors. It asked for proof of authorization. Sensenmann tapped his chip against the scanner and typed in his code. To Leben's surprise, the doors still didn't open. Instead, a panel slid open above the screen and a different scanner protruded out. Leben had never seen one like it. Sensenmann leaned forward and positioned his right eye in front of it. A bar of light travelled from right to left across his eye before receding back into the wall, the panel sliding back into place over it. The screen blinked green and the doors opened up.

Leben followed his sponsor into the largest room he'd ever seen in his life. It reminded him of the Grand Ballroom of the Speicher Hotel where he and Schatzi were married. But that was just the size of it. It looked more like an archival library. Rows and rows of bookshelf-like structures lined the room, spanning multiple levels. There were too many to even begin to count.

Sensenmann led him past several dozen rows of these structures. Leben tried to get a good look at them, but was afraid that stopping would only anger Sensenmann further. Though his little peeks told him that they were at least electronic, something akin to hard drives, but he'd never seen anything like them.

Sensenmann took a hard left down a row. Leben nearly missed it as he was looking down the rows on his right, but he glanced back just in time to catch it. He followed. Then Sensenmann stopped abruptly.

"What do you see?"

Leben took a closer look. His initial observations seemed to be correct, they were hard drives of a sort. But each one varied slightly from the ones on either side of them. Cables were connected in different places and lights flashed at different cadences. But what caught his eye was the bar of blue light on each of them. Some ran the length of their container, burning brightly. Others were mere slivers, winking dimly.

"I see some sort of storage units? Hard drives for the Civil Network?"

"Correct. Or at least, not incorrect."

"What do you mean?"

"We who work the Hardlines call these 'Life Caches.'"

"Life Caches?"

"Have you ever wondered what the Flower Program checks for before it gives you its answer?"

"It's crossed my mind."

"This is what it checks. Each cache is dedicated to a specific individual once they are given their System Authority Identification Code and assimilated into the system. At assimilation, you're given a blank cache. As you live, you fill it. Once it's full, it's pulled. You die. Your cache is erased and recycled back into the system to be reused."

"Wait, I don't—"

"So what the Flower checks for is remaining storage space. If it determines that that individual's cache will be pulled soon anyway, then it will deem its use unnecessary."

"Okay, I think I'm starting to—"

"But do you even realize how much trouble you've caused for me?" Sensenmann's voice grew grave. "If you heal someone who's supposed to die, then I have to prolong their life somehow. And I can't just magically give them more storage, that's not how it works. No, the space has to come from somewhere. So what I'm forced to do is take someone else's cache," he released the clasp on a cache and pulled it from its slot, "and give it to the person you saved." He then took a connector cable out of his jacket pocket and linked the pulled cache with one of the installed caches.

Leben watched as the replacement cache swayed slightly back and forth in front of the hard drive. He looked up and saw it: System Authority Identification Code TR8080.

"That's Schatzi's Code!" he said, the realization finally hitting him.

"Precisely. You saved her and now this random stranger has to die. Do you see now?" Sensenmann's voice seemed to fill the room.

"But— That's not— I didn't—"

"You didn't what? You didn't know? Does that matter? Would you have made different decisions?"

Leben fell silent. Would he have made different decisions if he knew?

"For greed. For love. I thought you better, boy." He began walking further down the row, "Come."

He followed obediently, almost absently. They passed many drives of varying life expectancies. Leben found himself wondering if anyone he knew was in this very row. He stopped when Sensenmann stopped. And when Sensenmann gestured towards a specific drive, Leben raised his eyes to meet it. BG1812, his own drive. Then he looked at the Life Cache; it was nearly full.

"You've lived quite a life, though young you still are. And that virus you designed was complex. Costly. I'd say that pushed you right over the edge."

The anxiety building in Leben's chest turned to full-blown panic, "No, no, that can't be! I feel fine!"

"Of course, I suppose I could do for you what you did for your dear wife. It would be simple enough. After all, what's one more, right?"

"Yes! Please! Please, Sensenmann! I promise I'll never break the rules again! I'll live a life that'll make you proud!"

Sensenmann reached over to the cache beside Leben's, gripping the clasp between his fingers, "Simple enough, yes."

Leben watched with fear as Sensenmann's hand let go of the stranger's Life Cache and unclasped Leben's instead.

"But I refuse."

He pulled the Life Cache and Leben's world went black. 

If you enjoyed this story, you'll love tpmwrites other works! I can personally testify that The Withered Kingdom is an excellent read. It's the ideal fantasy novel!