Spreading Wings
Sequel to 
Angel On Her Own


Mark Engels

A quiet melody.

Peaceful, tranquil, reverent.
Inviting the soul to know harmony.

Suggesting through its very composition that all in the world is as it should 
be.

Everything is in its right place.
Everything is in its right time...


PLONK!


Everything, perhaps...except that one damned note!

ÒDAMMIT!Ò, she hollered, pushing herself away from her keyboards with both 
hands.

Hmph!   Stupid G minor key signature, anyway.

C'mon, Alita...you can do better than that.  Sitting back in her chair, she blew 
her breath out forcefully, puffing her cheeks as she did so.  Going through the 
motions as she had a hundred times before tonight, she flapped the sheets in 
their binder to the beginning of the piece and interlaced her fingers, bending 
them backwards to keep them limber and nimble.  Wiggling her fingers as her eyes 
found their place at the proper measure, she emptied her mind, preparing to run 
through this piece one more time.   Just as her fingers made contact with the 
keyboard, she jumped; her peripheral vision had caught sight of an intruder in 
her space.

SWARNK!!   A heinous sound emanated from the twin three-horn speakers she had 
plugged into her  amplifier.  Snarling, she looked up, scowling toward the 
perpetrator of  yet another interruption.  CÕest la vie, she shrugged.  Her 
expression softened as she waved her visitor in, for she had been anxiously 
anticipating him since she had hung up the phone.  She didnÕt know what he was 
so excited about, but she was looking forward to finding out.

John hadnÕt seen the inside of AlitaÕs old room his last time in IdoÕs house.  
Taking a look around, he recognized several pieces of equipment he had loaned 
her.  A mixer board here, an amplifier there; he knew when she asked to borrow 
them that they would be put to good use.  He hadnÕt been using it of late 
anyway, what with his working overtime and all.  John said a silent prayer, 
thankful that Alita had been so attentive to doling out the necessary chores to 
keep the library open.

His sudden thought of the library sent pain through his psyche like a lightning 
bolt.  String had been the closest thing John had ever had to a son.  

Alita didnÕt see him wipe a tear from the corner of one eye.

She watched him wander aimlessly round the room, glancing at this, poking at 
that.  He looked tired, like a man held at the limit for too long.  SheÕd seen 
John only a few times since StringÕs death, and those times had been in passing 
at the library or, occasionally, on Front Street.  She knew that a lot had been 
on his mind of late.  

ÒYa know, StringÕs sure proud of you, wherever he might beÒ, he said, 
reflective.   ÒHeÕs glad to know you were carrying on his legacy...despite 
everything...Ò  His words trailed off as he trudged over to a speaker deck; John 
hopped his bum up onto it with a noticeable grunt.  Dangling his feet over the 
side wearily, he turned to face the window.  ÒAlita, I miss him...I miss 
String...so much....Ò  he sighed, letting his words trail off.

ÒI know, John.  I know.Ò   Alita had been missing him, too.  Her music invoked 
bittersweet emotions:   joy at playing and recalling happy (heh!) times with  
String, sorrow at the remembrance he was gone.  But, what was it he had told her 
before his passing?

Alita came up behind him and placed one hand on his shoulder.  ÒHeÕs here, John.  
HeÕs here with us, all around, all the time.  In everything we do...and I like 
to think heÕs in the music most of all.  When we play, and we remember what he 
did for each and every one of us, StringÕs still alive, JohnÒ, she said, giving 
his shoulder a firm squeeze for emphasis.

He sat pensive for several minutes, staring blankly out the window.   ÒString 
was always saying what a bright one you are, Alita.  Heh.  Guess IÕm just being 
selfish or something...Ò  Chuckling all to once, he turned to face her; his 
whiskers notwithstanding, Alita could tell he was beaming.  

 ÒAnyway, thatÕs not what I meant when I said on the phone I had to talk to you, 
Alita.  I need to know what plans you have for the next couple days.Ò

ÒWell...I, uh...Ò, she stammered, taken aback.  ÒN-nothing much, I supposeÒ, she 
said absent-mindedly.  ÒWhy do you ask?Ò

His eyes brightened as he spoke.  ÒWord came down from Factory 37 that they need 
to transport several large pieces of structural steel to where the new 
processing plant being built up near Farm 310.Ò

ÒYou mean you finally got that contract youÕve been after for months?   ThatÕs 
great, JohnÒ, she said, smiling again.

ÒYeahÒ, he continued, Òbut thatÕs not the half of it.  Guess where YoshiÕs 
gotten himself to these days.Ò

Her smile shaping itself into a knowing grin, she looked cattily at John.  ÒAre 
you thinking what IÕm thinking?Ò

ÒYou betcha!   A sharp one, you...Ò, he said as he got to his feet again.  ÒI 
just got off the phone with Yoshi about an hour ago.  I rushed over here to tell 
you so we could be on the road by nightfall.  You in?Ò

The speakers issued a loud snap as she powered down the keyboard.  ÒIs a deckman 
ugly?   Of course, IÕm in.  I gotta go with to keep you out of trouble, right?Ò

John laughed heartily.  ÒItÕs settled, then.   Meet me at my place at 20:00.Ò  
Turning to leave, he thought to add, Ò...and pack enough clothes for three days 
or so.  ItÕll be a dayÕs trip there and back, and itÕll take me at least a day 
to rig up the structural steel weÕll be taking with us.Ò

Alita watched him go, walking slightly taller than when he left.  HeÕs a real 
cut-up, a prankster and a braggart, she thought, but heÕs my friend.  

Moments later, the deep rumbling sound of a diesel engine brought her to her old 
roomÕs window.  In the street below, Alita could plainly see the ÒMaid MarionÒ 
easing its way through the parked cars.  ÒMarionÒ was JohnÕs pride and joy...his 
unmistakable niche in this contorted excuse for an economy the Scrapyard knew.  
John knew every square centimeter of the rig...from the sloped down engine cowl 
all decked out in cobalt blue and neon yellow lightning stripes, to the center 
split windshield he wiped down daily, to the cab doors he had lettered with his 
own hand, to the integrated sleeper the lightning stripes expanded to cover from 
top to bottom as the graceful cowl and cab lines progressed toward the rear of 
the tractor.   She knew he greased the fifth wheel once a week, had just 
replaced all the trailer lights (all thirty-five of them!) with high powered LED 
arrays, and just finished steam cleaning the sleeper cabÕs interior.  Heh.  ItÕs 
an honor just to be asked to sit in the cab, never mind riding shotgun!, Alita 
thought as she made a mental inventory of the things sheÕd need to take with her 
on the trip.  

John sat in the driverÕs seat, navigating the narrow streets like an old taxi 
driver.  Cranking MarionÕs leather wrapped steering wheel hard to port then 
starboard, John eased Marion through a sharp right turn around the buildingÕs 
front, missing parked cars by mere centimeters.  After checking his mirrors to 
ensure the trailer had cleared, John goosed the throttle; Marion howled in 
protest.  By virtue of the fact the low-boy trailer was unloaded, John was able 
to skip every other gear, and soon he and Maid Marion were rolling toward the 
open road.

Alita mulled that while other Factory bosses liked to be chauffeured around in 
fancy cars,  John Little, the president, CEO and sole employee of Little Feat 
Engineering, seemed perfectly happy to drive himself.

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

Covering her mouth with both hands served two purposes...one to hide the 
mischievous grin there, another to morph her voice into the tinny, monotonic 
drone of an intercom.

ÒDoctor Ido, paging Doctor Daisuke Ido...Ò

Ido rolled his eyes and sighed.  ÒHow long have you been waiting there this 
time?Ò

ÒFour minutes 27 seconds.Ò  Alita lurched off the door frame and gave Ido a hug 
in greeting.  Even before she had left, she had loved to sneak into the OR while 
Ido was finishing his work and see how long it took him to notice.  His quickest 
was three seconds.  His slowest was 45 minutes, at which point Alita had become 
so bored she tiptoed over to the work bench and started rearranging his 
supplies.

She looked around the room.  The patient was still unconscious, so they could 
talk in normal voices.  He was splayed out face down on the operating table, 
with the telltale brand new backside of a spine transfer.  ÒAnother one?Ò

ÒYes.  And I've got another one tomorrow,Ò sighed Ido.  He slipped off the outer 
layer of gloves, squirted some acetone across his forearms, rubbed them down 
rapidly in hopes of getting any inorganic liquids off, then moved to the sink.  
ÒWhat have you been up to today?Ò

She told of her invitation to come on John's trip.  Ido was pleased by the idea.
ÒThatÕs fine, Alita.  Hope you have a great time in the Outlands.  Ask Yoshi how 
his legÕs holding out, would you?Ò

ÒI will.Ò  Alita watched as Ido  took some surgical instruments out of the 
autoclave.  ÒIdo, what's the matter?  You look kinda lost....Ò

ÒJust work,Ò he replied.  ÒSpinal thefts are up yet again...when people lose 
something important, they'll come in and have me perform all the work that 
should be done already, since I won't charge them for separate visits.  But even 
though they're prompted to come in, that still doesn't take away the trauma of 
what they have gone through.  Some of these people have been badly hurt.

ÒSo they come to me with all the more problems, and each replacement can take 
two, three hours  longer than normal because of that.  That lost time means I 
can't help as many of the responsible people who hurry over when something 
really DOES go wrong.  By the time I get a backordered column for a man who 
needs a leg-and-pelvis and a new ankle servo also, so much time has been 
frittered away...Ò  he chuckled heavily, and smiled at her wearily.  ÒSometimes 
I wish I'd been a musician instead.Ò

The remark wasn't intended to hurt her, or be ironic at all; but it felt ironic 
and hurt her just the same.  Alita bid Ido a quick goodbye and promised to pass 
along his message to Yoshi.

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

The hubbub of the busy street was drowned out by her own musings as she walked 
back to her place.   Hmph.  ÒI sort of wish IÕd been a musician, insteadÒ, eh?, 
she brooded.  She suddenly became aware of how much his comment had affected 
her, and she took pause beside a lamp post to ponder why this was so.

WhatÕs this void I feel inside?   Why do I feel like a jigsaw puzzle thatÕs 
missing that last piece, the one that seems to have been misplaced?  

W-why did String have t-to--

Her reverie was interrupted as she heard footfalls rapidly approaching her.  She 
turned just in time to see Ido standing there, his breathing barely faster than 
normal.  He was only slightly winded; hunting bounty three or four nights a week 
these past several years had kept him in shape enough to afford him these brief 
spurts of exertion from which a man less fit would have certainly collapsed.  
Leaning against the brick wall as he rested, he offered Alita the piece of paper 
he held in his outstretched hand.

Alita took her hunting license from him.  ÒYouÕll need this at the security 
checkpoint at the Hydro Wall.  IÕm sure JohnÕs paperwork will be in order for 
him, but youÕll need this to be allowed to pass.  The Factory gives Hunters 
privileges like this due to the fact sometimes bounties make it to the Outlands 
before they can be brought in.  Make sure you grab a pulp copy of escapees, and 
just point to one of the faces when you present this to the guard.Ò

ÒOh, yeah.  RightÒ, Alita said, folding up her license and tucking it into her 
jacketÕs inside chest pocket.   As she turned to go, Ido reached out to put a 
hand on her shoulder.

The spriteful expression sheÕd had in the OR had been replaced by a solemn one, 
causing Ido to inquire, ÒAre you OK?   I mean, youÕve been awfully distant the 
last couple days...Ò

She turned to face him, a quizzical look in her honey-brown eyes.

ÒIt seems that all youÕve been doing since StringÕs death is teach class, hide 
out in the library and practice your musicÒ, he explained, Òalmost like youÕve 
been avoiding something...Ò

Alita rolled her eyes.  IÕm not in the mood for the fatherly lecture bit, Ido.

Breaking the pregnant pause that ensued, he asked again ÒIs everything all 
right?Ò

ÒI guessÉÒ

ÒThis isnÕt like you, Alita.  IÕm a doctor, and your...well, I know symptoms of 
depression when I see them.  Gonzu and I are...concerned...for your well being, 
you know.Ò  

ÒI know, Daisuke.  I guess I...Ò

Alita hesitated, looking down at the pavement momentarily.  A moment later she 
turned excitedly to Ido.  ÒSay, have you ever heard BeethovenÕs ÔUnfinished 
SymphonyÕ?Ò

ÒNot recently...what does that have to do with---Ò

ÒIt has everything to do with what IÕve been feeling!   The piece finishes 
abruptly, just as it approaches the pinnacle of symphonic ecstasy.Ò

Befuddled, he stammered, ÒBut I still donÕt---Ò

ÒBeethoven had started in on something of great significance, something of 
depth, of substance, Daisuke.  Only, he never completed it...and the piece's 
elegance and beauty was left unfulfilled.  Unknowingly, String did the same with 
me---Ò

A sob stuck in her throat, cutting her off.  Clearing her throat, she continued.

ÒHeÕs started me on a path toward self-discovery, one that I hope will take me 
somewhere where I can answer all these questions I keep thinking about...that 
IÕve never been able to answer...like Ôwhy am I here?Õ and Ôfor how long?ÕÒ 

Her eyes flashed as she turned to Ido.  ÒBut, even though String got me started, 
heÕs...heÕs not here for me anymore.  Yeah, IÕve held myself together well the 
last couple weeks, but that was mostly for the benefit of John and the others.  
Not a day has gone by since then that I havenÕt felt that I came so close to 
taking a giant step toward knowing who I am and why I am...only to have that 
victory snatched from my hands...Ò

Ido gasped as he saw the anger flare in AlitaÕs eyes.  Fists balled with rage, 
she screamed through clenched teeth , ÒGoddammit, Daisuke...ITÕS NOT FAIR!!!   
HOW COULD I HAVE COME SO CLOSE AND NOT MADE IT?   WHY DID STRING HAVE TO DIE?Ò.  

Alita became suddenly conscious of the eyes of onlookers upon the two of them.  
Sniffling slightly, she unshouldered her duffel and took IdoÕs hands in hers.  
ÒCan you understand what IÕm saying, Daisuke?   Have you any idea?Ò

Knowing he was outclassed, he simply shook his head.  ÒTake what time you need, 
Alita.  IÕll be looking forward to your return.Ò  Ido picked her duffel up from 
the sidewalk.  ÒPleaseÒ, he said, reaching around behind his neck to remove a 
small pendant and chain.  ÒTake this.  For safe travels.Ò  A small grin appeared 
on his face as he handed it to her.  Taking the chain in her hand, she examined 
the small pendant closely.  On it was the image of St.  Christopher...

...the patron saint of travelers.  

She gave her raven black hair a toss as she fastened the clasp securely around 
her neck.  Turning it over, she could plainly read the inscription on the back:

ÒBehold St.  Christopher, and go thy way in safety.Ò

She again turned to Ido with a warm look in her eyes.  Taking her duffel from 
him, Alita gave Ido a small hug.  ÒThank you, Daisuke.  I knew youÕd understand.  
I--Ò

ÒI know, Alita.  You donÕt need to explainÒ, Ido said, putting his hands in his 
pockets.  ÒYou know I feel the same way about you.  Now...go.Ò

He returned AlitaÕs wave as she trotted down the sidewalk, only turning to leave 
as she rounded the corner.   Before his attention returned to tomorrowÕs 
appointment schedule, he prayed silently, known to no one save he and God.

Alita, I pray you find what youÕre looking for.

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

The engine came to life with a throaty roar, and once again, ÒMaid MarionÒ was 
called forth from her stupor.   Her stackÕs single flapper bobbed merrily up and 
down as John completed the last of his pre-trip.  Satisfied, he double checked 
the coolant and oil levels before dropping the cowl down with a chassis-shaking 
THUD!    He waved to Alita, indicating he was ready to check the lights.  She 
was sitting in the driverÕs seat, and set the four-ways.  John walked to the 
rear of the trailer, thumping the tires with a hammer as he went to check their 
inflation.

Alita gave herself pause momentarily to consider the eveningÕs events.  

Just what is it I am looking for?  

Is there any real point to this trip?  

Can't it have some kind of meaning to me?

She sighed as little voices whispered such doubts and misgivings into her mind's 
ear.  Alita felt her heart begin to go numb.  Had her knuckles been flesh, they 
would have been white by now, as her cybernetic fingers clenched the steering 
wheel tighter and tighter as her mindÕs muses woefully sang their dirge.

ÒHey.   HEY!!    ALITA!!!Ò, John cried as she returned to the here-and-now.  
ÒSet the left turn signal, would you?Ò

She chuckled slightly she reflected on her momentÕs pensiveness.  ÒSure, John.   
Just yell when you want me to set the right signal, OK?Ò  Seeing the concern in 
his eyes she  flashed him a smile to assure him she was all right.  ÒYaÒ, was 
all he said as he walked around again to double check the lights.

After she had set the right signal, she left the driverÕs seat and slid across 
the cab to the passenger side.  Staring absently at the gear shifter and its 
myriad of buttons and levers used to select the various combinations, she knew 
that many would see a lot of use this trip.  Their route to Farm 310 was to the 
north, through the Great River Valley, whose myriad of hills John hoped would 
offer him the chance to test out Marion's recently rebuilt transmission.

She was still marveling at the painstaking detail John had taken to keep the cab 
tidy when he popped the door latch and jumped in the driverÕs seat.  Pulling the 
driverÕs door shut behind him, he reached for the shifter and took it in his 
hand.  He pressed a series of buttons on the shifter's front, and Alita turned 
to notice a whirring sound coming from the mirrors as they moved to their home 
positions.

Alita took her position in the passenger seat and belted herself in.  ÒYou 
ready?Ò, John asked, a slight grin coming to his face.  She simply nodded, to 
which he replied, ÒRight then.  LetÕs get on, shall we?Ò.  Not waiting for an 
answer, he put down the heavy clutch with his left foot, dropped the shifter 
into the middle top hole, and gave Marion a little throttle with his right.  
Marion responded smoothly to JohnÕs gentle goosing, and carried the two of them 
out onto Highway 35.  John then began the ritual of running up through the gears 
while wisps of black smoke blew MarionÕs stack flapper up to the twelve oÕclock 
position, as if Marion were gleefully announcing her return to the open road.

The two of them said nothing for quite some time, content only to watch the sun 
sink beneath the horizon far to the west.

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

About an hour and a half after sunset, Marion with her crew and cargo glided up 
to the Hydro WallÕs guard post.  After handing John his clipboard, Alita pulled 
her hunting license out of her jacket pocket and neatly unfolded it.  Marion 
bellowed as John reached out and switched on the exhaust brake, and they rolled 
slowly up to the checkpoint.

A cyborg in a Rent-a-Gun padded up to the truck as it pulled in an empty 
examination spot.  He casually clambered up face-to-face with John.  ÒNumber of 
passengers?Ò

ÒTwo.Ò

ÒDestination?Ò

ÒFarm 310.  Both of us.Ò

ÒMmm-kay.  Please get out of your vehicle.  Are you aware of the standard search 
and examination procedures?Ò

ÒYes,Ò John said, and swung down from the cab.  The Rent-a-Gun cyborg waived two 
lackeys over to the truck.

With one guard taking JohnÕs paperwork and the other taking AlitaÕs license, 
they walked to the front of the truck and began a thorough inspection.

ÒWhat's the deal, John?  Are they worried that we're smuggling cyborg parts into 
the Outlands?Ò

ÒNaw.  People.  Bounties, runaways, or just about anyone without the brains to 
come up with a decent excuse.Ò  He was hunkered down on his haunches, idly 
beating out a rhythm figure on his thigh.  ÒThey say that it's for quarantine 
purposes.  Personally, I think that if you splashed a little of the Scrapyard's 
water around out there, it'd kill before it could infect anything.Ò

After checking the cargo, the guard that had taken AlitaÕs license motioned for 
her to leave the cab.  Keying the door and stepping down, the guard scrambled 
past her to shine his light into the sleeper cab.  Seeing nothing unusual, he 
clambered down, and turned to face Alita.

The guard handed back AlitaÕs license to her.  Making his face out in the dim 
light was difficult; Alita couldnÕt tell whether he was sneering as he said ÒSo, 
what makes you think youÕre any different than all the rest, eh?Ò

Taken aback, she stammered ÒWh-what are you talking about?Ò

ÒOh, come on, donÕt play coy with meÒ, he shot back.  ÒYouÕre going to Farm 310 
to try and seek out that mean bitch up there with the ¢100,000 bounty on her 
head, just like every other goddamn Hunter-Warrior thatÕs gone through here in 
the last six months.Ò

Alita had absolutely no idea whatsoever what he meant.  Interpreting her silence 
as her reaction to his intimidation, he continued.  ÒTell you what...every 
single one of them high-and-mighty Hunter-Warriors have come back through here 
in itty bitty pieces, too.Ò

Alita scowled.  She could taste the flavor of her rage in the back of her mouth.

ÒYep.  That mean bitch ripped every one of them to shreds.  What was left of 
them looked like beef jerky.Ò

She squinted as he shone his light in her face.  Laying his hand lightly against 
her face, he said, ÒToo bad.  Us border guards donÕt get a lot of sweet young 
things like you coming up this way.  Whaddya say you forget that crazy bounty 
idea and spend a little time here with me?   ItÕs been too damn long since I----
Ò

ÒI don't believe it's too damn longÒ, Alita cut in.  She seized his gonads and 
yanked  them towards her.  The guard let out a pained yelp as she looked down 
and then back up, letting out a disappointed sigh.  Ò 'S what I thought.  I've 
seen ramen noodles that made me hornier.  NOW--Ò, she barked as she blocked and 
painfully wrenched the hand he'd just desperately attempted to haymaker her 
with.

Ò--motherFUCKER, how would you like to be on the receiving end of 
necrophilia???Ò

 He yelped as she swatted the guardÕs hand away forcefully.   Crouching down on 
the ground to nurse his badly bruised hand, he huffed in agony as she continued,  
ÒFor your information, IÕm not looking for a woman.   See?Ò.  She was pointing 
at the face of one of the male bounties on the list last seen in the area of 
Farm 310.  She didnÕt even know his name or what the bounty was, she just wanted 
to put up enough of  a ruse to avoid suspicion.

ÒThis guy thought it would be real cute to go assault a few little girls I know.  
And, I've got to tell you, I'd never believe a guy with no arms and one leg up 
his own ass could outrun me, but somehow, he managed.  Now I've got to go out 
and kill him.  You think I'm in a bitchy mood now?   Just try getting in my 
way.Ò

ÒOK, OKÒ, the guard whined.   Still squatting on the ground, he waved to his 
comrade with his one good hand to let them pass.  Alita was back in the cab 
immediately, John joined her a moment later.  He eased Marion into gear; they 
left the Hydro-Wall check point without a single backward glance.  

John knew discretion was by far the better part of valor.  He decided to let her 
cool off rather than egg her on.

No words passed between them for some time.

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

ÒDo you know how to play 'Questions'?Ò

With the checkpoint over an hour behind them, John had decided it was time to 
loosen things up a bit.  Alita stared out the window gazing at the stars shining 
in the night sky, chin in one hand.  She ruminated about what the guard had told 
her about Farm 310, and about the Òmean bitchÒ there.

She did not know if the guard had a clue that this trip was not for ÒbusinessÒ, 
but at the moment, she did not care.

Lost in thought, she had inadvertently ignored John once, but turned towards him 
after he had repeated his query.

ÒWhat?Ò, she replied, unsure of what he had said.

John chuckled.  ÒSee?   I told you youÕre a sharp one!   You already know how to 
play and I havenÕt even told you the rules, yet!Ò

Alita turned away from the window and shuffled herself into a more comfortable 
position.  She sighed.  

Might as well humor him.  

ÒSo, John, how do you play this 'Questions' game?Ò

ÒYou mean to tell me you never played 'Questions' before?Ò

ÒWell, would I be asking you if I knew already?Ò

ÒWhatÕs it worth to you?Ò

ÒWould my undying gratitude be enough?Ò

ÒWould you be willing to throw in your buying breakfast in the morning?Ò

Alita was becoming agitated.  She growled inside.

Damn him...he can be so annoying when he sets his mind to it!

ÒJohn, are you going to tell me how to play or arenÕt you?Ò, she said, ignoring 
his previous question.

ÒWhatÕs your hurry?   Are you going someplace?   A hot date tonight...is that 
it?Ò, he chortled, his whiskers unable to hide the smile on his face.

I've had about enough of this!

ÒARE YOU TRYING TO PISS ME OFF, JOHN?Ò, she barked.

ÒPissed off?   Who said anything about your being pissed off?Ò  John could 
barely talk as he stifled his laughter.

Alita roared.  ÒJOHN, GODDAMIT, TELL ME HOW TO PLAY THIS STUPID GAME ALREADY!!!Ò

John laughed hysterically as Alita glared at him.  ÒFive rounds!   Pretty good 
for your first time!Ò  

Alita grabbed his shoulder, smoldering.  ÒJohn, being a pain in the ass isnÕt a 
bounty-level crime, but it should be.  Now...tell me the frigging rules.  Or 
IÕll get out and walk.Ò

ÒThatÕs a statement,Ò said John, shaking his head.  ÒCanÕt say that.Ò

ÒWhat do you mean--oh, wait, ÔQuestionsÕ, that makes sense.Ò  Alita took her 
hand off JohnÕs shoulder and thought for a moment.  ÒAre there any other rules?Ò

ÒWhy donÕt you use common sense?Ò

Alita, not for the first time since she had met John, let out an exasperated 
sigh.  ÒWell, I guess no repeats, otherwise youÕd go over the same--oops,Ò she 
groaned, ÒStatement.Ò  John smiled with her.

A minute later, Alita said, ÒJohn, can I ask you something?Ò

ÒWhatÕs on your mind?Ò

ÒWhat do you think about quantum physics?Ò

John smiled.  

Overconfident Alita...she just doesnÕt know who sheÕs dealing with.  

ÒWhich quantum physics?Ò

Ò....what do you mean, which quantum physics?Ò

ÒWhich kind of quantum physics?Ò

ÒThereÕs more than one?Ò

ÒShouldnÕt you figure out before you ask the question?Ò

ÒDonÕt I have a right to know about all the different types,Ò she took a deep 
breath, Òof quantum physics that there are?Ò

ÒWhat makes you so sure I know all of them?  ArenÕt you the serious student?Ò

Alita was thrown off, but recovered quickly.  ÒArenÕt there other things than 
the hard sciences for people to study?Ò

ÒSuch as?Ò

ÒWould music qualify?Ò

ÒAnd why shouldnÕt it?Ò

Alita found herself at a loss, and gave up.  ÒBeats the hell outta me!Ò

She fumed for the better part of an hour.  

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

A few hours before dawn John turned Marion off of the main road into a wayside 
stop.  Little more than a paved lot to park on, John explained that he usually 
avoided the larger stops.  ÒLess of a chance of a mugging with fewer people 
aroundÒ, he said, laughing as he saw AlitaÕs eyes go wide.  ÒJust kidding!   
Just kiddingÒ, he replied as she glared at him.

As he pulled down the spare bunk from the back of the sleeper, he bumped up 
against his duffel, resting on the shelf to his right.  He didnÕt notice as a 
disk fell from it, landing at AlitaÕs feet.  Securing the bunk, he turned as 
Alita held it up.  ÒWhatÕs this, John?Ò

ÒOh.  Yeah.  That.

ÒI was meaning to give that to you when we got to Farm 310.Ò  He sighed.  ÒI was 
planning on having a speech prepared, with all kinds of thoughtful and poignant 
things.  But, I guess inspiration seeks, and avoids being sought.  So, being 
that I canÕt come up with anything with little sleep this time in the morning, 
happy birthday.Ò

Remembering that her ÒbirthdayÒ (she and Ido had decided that hers would be the 
annual occasion of the date  which Ido had first breathed life back into her 
inanimate form) was almost half a year away, Alita looked at John in askance.

Eyes beginning to mist over, he replied to her silent inquiry.  Ò Ôs from 
String, Alita.   He left instructions for me to give it to you in a time-delay 
email that I read about four days after his death...almost as if he knew he was 
going to...Ò  He choked as he cut himself short.

ÒExcuse me while I get ready for bed, OK?Ò, he said, pulling closed the sleeper 
cabÕs curtain.  Holding the disk in both hands as she observed the cab lights 
reflecting off its shiny surface, she realized that suited her just fine.  All 
to once, Alita could not breathe; a sensation that the cab was closing in around 
her filled her senses.  With barely enough wherewithal to grab her disk player 
and headset, she yanked the door latch and bolted from the truck like some kind 
of crazed animal; free at last from its cage, running like there was no 
tomorrow.
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------

The night seemed to drag on endlessly as Alita marked the passing of every stray 
moment.  

A full moon was out tonight, filling the clearing with its muted silver glow.  
Her eyes adjusted quickly in the dim light after she had stopped running to plop 
down in a grassy patch in the clearing.  Alita lay spread eagle on her back, 
staring skyward.  

Memories came back to her in a flood of emotion.  Tears began to well up in her 
eyes, finally brimming over to flow down the sides of her face.  Her face 
glistened as the gunmetal grey beneath her eyes reflected the pale moonlight, 
better now that they were wet.

Of course, Alita was oblivious to this.  She lay moitionless save for her eyes, 
which moved only enough to take in the grandeur of the stars above.  She had to 
wonder if they or her mind raced faster.  

Focus, Alita.

Sitting up, she popped her disk into the player and donned her earphones.  She 
pressed play and let String's voice still her body.  She was no longer there.

ÒAlita...what can I say?   IÕve had these headaches for several weeks now, and 
IÕve had my suspicions as to what might be causing them.  I almost donÕt need to 
have Doctor Ido tell me what they are, so IÕm pretty sure I donÕt have a lot of 
time left.  IÕve already recorded instructions for John in the event of my death 
that heÕs to give you this disk when you are somewhere you can reflect and be 
contemplative.  Because Alita, I have all the faith in the world that you're 
becoming someone wonderful, and I love you for it.  I'm excited to watch the 
changes that are taking place in you.  I wanted to give you this one final 
tribute to your spirit while I still can, and I wanted you to be in a place 
where itÕs message will speak to you the loudest.

ÒWhat you are about to hear is a recording I put together with you in mind, 
Alita.  Yoshi and John helped out in their various parts, but neither of them 
really knew what I intended to use it for.  I played guitar during the original 
recording, then transposed the keys over top of them...trying my best to mimic 
the fresh, exciting style your skills have helped you develop.  YouÕve been 
quite an inspiration to me, Alita, and it is your love, your spirit, your 
soulfulness, that allows me to leave this existence knowing that my dream shall 
live on...live on Alita, in you.Ò

Her stomach knot with emotion.  She pressed PAUSE long enough to allow her time 
to sob softly.  When the wave of pain and sorrow had passed, she began to play 
the disc again.

ÒHere it is, Alita.  It was originally recorded many years ago, and I found it 
way in the back of one of those old songbooks we had at the library.  ItÕs 
called 'Give to Live', Alita, and I give it to you that you might live life to 
its fullest, Alita.

ÒAlita, please don't forget me.  I'll keep you close to me, even in the next 
life.

ÒMay our next meeting find thee well, my little warrior...Ò

The song began forcefully, StringÕs guitar, JohnÕs bass, and YoshiÕs drums 
laying down a moving picture of sound.  StringÕs overlaid keys were in there 
too, and allowed them to transition into the start of the lyrics with the 
introspectiveness String had wanted Alita to hear.

Oooh....I can see that youÕve got fire in your eyes
and pain inside your heart
So many things have come and torn your world apart
Oh baby baby baby
DonÕt give up
DonÕt give up
DONÕT GIVE UUUUUUP!

John and Yoshi helped out on the refrains, while String focused on the songÕs 
message.

IF YOU WANT LOVE...

If you want love...you got to give a little...

IF YOU WANT LOVE...

If you want faith...you just believe a little...

IF YOU WANT LOVE...

If you want peace...turn your cheek a little...

Ohhhhhhhhh

John, Yoshi, and String sang as one for the refrainÕs end.

YouÕve got to give
youÕve got to give
youÕve got to give...to live.

Alita broke the tight ball sheÕd had herself curled in, only now realizing that 
she been gritting her teeth ever since String started singing.  Blowing her 
breath out forcefully, she lay on her back again, forcing herself to focus on 
the moon as it continued its journey towards its zenith.   Moonbeams shot from 
it in all direction as she gazed upon the moon through tear-filled eyes.

An empty hand, reaching out for someone...
an empty heart takes a little to fill.
ItÕs so much easier to push instead of pull.

Oh baby baby baby donÕt give up
DonÕt give up
DONÕT GIVE UUUUUUP!

IF YOU WANT LOVE...

If you want love...you got to give a little...

IF YOU WANT LOVE...

If you want faith...you just believe a little...

IF YOU WANT LOVE...

If you want peace...turn your cheek a little...

Ohhhhhhhhh

YouÕve got to give
youÕve got to give
youÕve got to give...to live.

The tempo changed slightly as String went into the bridge.  

Each patch a country in its own right
OOOH everybody needs a friend.
One friend...one God....one country....no man need be feared....

Yeah!

AlitaÕs crying had stopped as she continued to listen to the song.  Focusing on 
the words, she all to once felt StringÕs presence next to her.  A new sense of 
resolve was welling up inside of her, telling her that what sheÕd told John 
earlier had been true.

IÕll be there every time you listen to music, or sing, or play, Alita...IÕll be 
there...

I believe in fate and destinations
but so much of that lies in our own hands.
If  you know what you want...just go on out and get it...
Oh baby baby....just donÕt give up....
No NOOO
Oh, donÕt give up!
Yeah yeah!

IF YOU WANT LOVE...

If you want love...youÕve got to give a little...

IF YOU WANT LOVE...

If you want faith...you just believe a little...

IF YOU WANT LOVE...

If you want peace...turn your cheek a little...

Ohhh...

If you want love...youÕve got to give!

IF YOU WANT LOVE...

Ohhhhh...give to live!

IF YOU WANT LOVE...

YouÕve got to give, youÕve got to give, youÕve got to giiiive to live!

IF YOU WANT LOVE...

OOOh, Ooohh,  

IF YOU WANT LOVE...

Ooooh, oooh..

IF YOU WANT LOVE...

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooohh...  

Alita again turned her eyes skyward.  Addressing the heavens might have seemed 
folly to anyone else, but she knew that her voice was going to be heard.  
Speaking with conviction, she proclaimed boldly, ÒYouÕre right, String.  So much 
of our own fate lies right here in our own hands.Ò  DawnÕs red-orange fingers 
were just beginning to take hold above the eastern horizon.  Alita stood tall to 
greet the day.  ÒToday is the first day of the rest of mine, String.   IÕll 
venture forth and find the answers I seek...and truly live the life thatÕs mine 
to live!Ò

She shook her fist at the sky, shouting ÒAnd if You've got a problem with that, 
then strike me down right here and now!Ò

She listened as her voice echoed across the prairie;  its many replies came in a 
chaotically random fashion.  A crimson streak began to break over the horizon, 
announcing daybreakÕs pending arrival.  She made her way back toward the rig 
with great long strides, her feet moving in time to an unheard cadence.  Her 
head held high, her eyes shining with a new sense of purpose, she said one last 
prayer of thanks to the memory of the man whoÕd filled her once again with hope 
and faith...

Thank you, String...thank you so much.

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

Midday was not far off as Marion, her crew,  and cargo gingerly made their way 
down the switchback leading down into Farm 310.  Situated below the surface of 
the arid prairie, Farm 310 was nestled along the fertile banks of an ancient 
river at the bottom of hundred-foot high limestone cliffs.  The Farm stretched 
for miles up and down the river valley.  Every possible square inch of usable 
land was utilized for the growing of crops, primarily corn and soybeans.  

The only exception to this rule were the huge concrete slabs that lay strewn 
along the river's edge.  Before the Factory realized the tri-annual flooding 
left behind some of the most fertile soil to be had anywhere, Farm 310 had been 
a Factory Mine known as Delta Sierra, one of the prime sources of limestone used 
for the production of steel in Factory hearths.   The conversion had taken place 
almost fifty years before, and now the slabs played host to the myriad of food 
processing plants used to consume the Farm's produce and convert it into 
sweeteners, oils, and ethanol.

A myriad of trucks and transports ferried the raw material and by-product from 
one station to the other, clogging the roads for miles.  This was all due to 
change, however, as the Factory had decided that it would not only be more 
efficient and cost less to centralize the production and refining facilities 
into one location, but that the land consumed by the new facility would actually 
be far less than the land gained after the twisted mass of roads connecting the 
current plants was ripped up and seeded.

Barges of all sizes and shapes lined the river, and tugs powered by a soybean 
extract similar in composition to diesel fuel spewed black smoke into the air as 
they shuffled the barges into position for loading.  Raw grains, mash and silage 
not consumed in the farm's tasked product production processes were hauled 
downstream to neighboring farms and mines in exchange for foodstuffs and durable 
goods intended to propagate the farms self-sufficiency (and hence, its high 
degree of autonomy).

Alita guessed another season was drawing to a close as she watched the various 
harvesters wandering to and fro across the narrow fields.  One could notice the 
familiar chill returning to the air, and beans and corn still standing were the 
familiar golden brown that told farmers for centuries harvest time was nigh.  
She figured soon the tugs and barges would be dry-docked and life in the fields 
would come to a standstill as winter took the valley of this great river once 
again into its icy grip.

After what seemed like hours fighting the congestion on the roads the new plant 
was supposed to eliminate, Marion finally reached her destination.  The 
construction site of the new plant was a blur of activity during the day, as 
earthmoving equipment of all colors, shapes and sizes buzzed across the site, 
hastening to finish the earthwork before the snow flew.  One knew better than to 
walk around the site then, because the workers had thrown safety to the wind in 
light of the promised monetary bonuses for early completion.  Alita stayed put 
as John located the spot he was to leave the trailer with the structural steel 
despite the fact it was close enough to the main structure to afford some relief 
from the intense activity elsewhere.  John lost no time in rolling down the 
landing gear and pulling the pin on the fifth wheel.  After uncoupling the air 
hoses and stowing the trailer's electrical service, Marion, sans trailer, was 
once again bouncing across the site.  Her occupants were most anxious to 
complete their obstensively secondary objective.

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

ÒAnybody home?  Yoshi?Ò, Alita said as she and John walked into the room.

Her inquiries met with silence, John cupped his hands to his mouth and bellowed, 
ÒANYONE HERE?Ò

Alita had walked over to YoshiÕs drum kit.  With the exception of a few synth-
pads and a cowbell heÕd added, it was still the same kit heÕd always had...just 
as she and John remembered.  A small note, blaze orange with black ink on it, 
was lying on his snare in plain view.  ÒHey, John, lookit...Ò, she said, picking 
it up.  ÒLooks like Yoshi left us a note after all,Ò John said as Alita glanced 
over the notes contents.

ÒBand and I in town...back soon.  Make yourselves at home.  Love & 
Kisses....Yoshi.Ò

A grin appeared on his face as he swung his guitar case onto a table and popped 
the latch.  He wasted no time shouldering his bass guitar and jacking in to the 
nearest amplifier.  The amp responded beautifully to JohnÕs plucking, and 
turning a few knobs on his bass to his satisfaction, he glanced at Alita.   She 
picked up on his cue, and nodded in assent.

 ÒHeh.  Very well.  Let's have a little fun, then...Ò

Alita unshouldered her synth case, smiling wide as she began setting it up 
immediately across from where John stood with his bass.  ÒGood call!   Say, IÕve 
been working on another selection from those songbooks in the library.  I 
havenÕt had a chance to scribe the bottom line for it, but I think youÕll catch 
on, IÕm sure.Ò

Her synth on its stand before her, she activated its remote transmitter and 
tuned a nearby crate to receive on the same channel.   She slapped a MIDI card 
sheÕd taken out of her bag into the synthÕs socket, and changed around a few 
tempo settings.  Playing a few notes for a volume check, she turned back to face 
John, who stood ready with his bass.

ÒI dunno....just come on in when the bass line comes to you.  This is just a 
practice game, right?Ò  Grinning broadly, she began to play.   John cocked his 
head slightly to one side to listen.

Alita began playing a rather catchy rhythm, full of melancholy and soulfulness.  
John was liking it already.  Several times she almost began to sing, yet checked 
herself, letting out only a brief breathy sound.  All to once, inspiration 
filled her, and she began.  

IÕm broke but IÕm happy
IÕm poor but IÕm kind
IÕm short but IÕm healthy, yeah!

John listened intently, and even closed his eyes as he placed the fingers of his 
right hand onto the four strings.   Alita gasped as she began the next passage.

IÕm high but IÕm grounded
IÕm sane but IÕm overwhelmed
IÕm lost but IÕm hopeful, baby!

His eyes suddenly going wild with excitement, John nodded to Alita, indicating 
he was ready.  She nodded again, and continued...

And what it all comes down to

John came in boldly with a slow moving bass line that served to underscore 
AlitaÕs voice, giving the additional depth and texture it deserved.

is that everythingÕs gonna be fine fine fine
And IÕve got one hand in my pocket
and the other one is giving a high five!

Alita beamed as John made up the bass line.  He was plucking slowly, yet 
appropriately, like they were reading off the same invisible music sheet 
somehow.  Seeing her approval, John began to funk things up a bit, giving Alita 
an incredible high as she sang on.

I feel drunk but IÕm sober
IÕm young and IÕm underpaid
IÕm tired but IÕm working, yeah!

I care but IÕm restless
IÕm here but IÕm really gone
IÕm wrong and IÕm sorry, baby!

And what it all comes down to

Alita looked at John jammed from his place where he leaned casually against the 
wall.  He truly enjoyed this sort of musical introspection, and she chuckled to 
herself as she envisioned his face for what she had in store...

is that everythingÕs gonna be quite all right

Her synth responding to her every touch, it issued forth yet another voice...one 
that could be heard through JohnÕs live bass and the recorded drum MIDI track.  
It carried AlitaÕs voice upon it...its sweetness, poignant; its effect, 
profound.

ÔCause IÕve got one hand in my pocket
and the other one is flickinÕ a cigarette.

John had turned toward the window, but swung swiftly around when he heard yet 
another new voice join their choir of two.  There was Alita, both hands free of 
her synthÕs keys, playing the very same harmonica String had given her mere 
weeks before!   He forgot himself completely as he gawked in realization of her 
newly-discovered potential, and it wasnÕt until Alita dropped a hand from her 
mouth to wave him on that he began to play the bottom again.

At the right time, Alita placed the harmonica onto the synth deck and canceled 
the automatic mode with one swift motion.  She never missed a note as she 
continued with the song.

And what it all comes down to
is that I havenÕt got it all figured out just yet.
ÔCause IÕve got one hand in my pocket
and the other one is givinÕ the peace sign!

Responding to her eye signals, John cut out for the next verse, looking all the 
world like a puma ready to pounce as he waited for her cue to begin again.

IÕm free but IÕm focused
IÕm green but IÕm wise
IÕm hard but IÕm friendly, baby!

John came back in with the same, simple rhythm heÕd used before.

IÕm sad but IÕm laughing
IÕm brave but IÕm chicken shit
IÕm sick but IÕm pretty, baby!

What it all boils down to
Is that no oneÕs really got it figured out just yet
Well IÕve got one hand in my pocket
and the other one is playing a piano!

And what it all comes down to, my friends...yÕknow
is that everything is just fine, fine, fine!
ÔCause IÕve got one hand in my pocket
and the other one is hailing a taxi cab...

Alita picked up the harmonica again, John and her closing a study in musical 
introspectiveness.

JohnÕs whiskers once again proved incapable of hiding his smile as he and Alita 
finished their jam.  He fed off of the way Alita threw herself headlong into her 
music.  Her soulfulness in her musical expression was only bettered by String 
himself.  Still, John knew that String, even now in his own way, was proud of 
his favorite pupil.  He walked with his bass guitar still strung across his 
middle over to where Alita was admiring the rather ornate setup YoshiÕs new 
keyboardist had constructed.  Alita appeared duly impressed with the quality of 
the equipment.

ÒWell, lookÕs like your company has arrived, YoshiÒ, a female voice said from 
behind them.  Alita and John swung around just as a woman entered the room, her 
long blonde hair trailing behind her like the train on a wedding veil.  Walking 
over to the rail, she leaned forward on it, placing one booted foot upon the 
lowest railing.  ÒAnd taking in a little practice besidesÒ, she said, flashing a 
smile to them both.  She was dressed in a manner appropriate to this backwoods 
community; her outfit consisted of a beige flannel shirt and black denim pants.  
Alita reasoned that the woman toned herself down like this deliberately, for her 
measurements lent themselves well to the kind that could easily draw unsolicited 
male attention sporting a skirt and blouse.

For some reason, Alita took to liking her almost immediately.  She cast an aura 
of peace and tranquillity around her, and never seemed to move or act in any way 
that seemed extraneous.  Yoshi entered right after her, and joined her at the 
railing, saying, ÒPlease forgive me for not making the introductions earlier, my 
friendsÒ.   ÒSave it, Yosh-man, IÕm a big boy, ya knowÒ, John replied, giving 
his friend a wink.  Offering his hand to the woman, he introduced himself:   
ÒJohn Little, maÕam.  So glad you liked our set.Ò

She next turned to Alita, who offered her hand in kind.  ÒIÕm sorryÒ, Alita said 
as the woman clasped her hand firmly.  ÒI'm Alita...but I didnÕt get your 
name...Ò

ÒIÕve been called many things, but you all can simply call me Asrial.Ò

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

Laughing and happy voices could be heard in the darkened room from beyond the 
door.  All to once, it flew open; the autoslave bid them welcome and brought up 
the lights.   Asrial led the way into the room, and shucking her jacket, invited 
in her friends, recent and otherwise, to join her.  Alita was the first to take 
up on the invitation, and sat down on the sofa, leaving enough room for John to 
join her.  She blathered on uncharacteristically about the eveningÕs 
performance, using words like ÒincredibleÒ and ÒawesomeÒ to describe the show 
Cutting Crew had just performed.

ÒThe story goes,Ò said Yoshi, Òthat after what seemed like my whole adult life 
with Noise, I wanted something different.  I wish that it didn't have to happen 
this way, but I think String would approve.Ò

ÒDAMN STRAIGHT!Ò  John roared.  Alita recognized it as a final spurt of energy 
before mellowness kicked in, so she took her cue.

ÒString would have loved that set you did, I know he would love CC.  You 
guys...it's kind of like what String was always talking about, about messages in 
music.  But you're different from Noise, you're great, and you're different, 
too.Ò

ÒI think it's more like it's a different philosophy, really.Ò  Yoshi found it in 
his heart to sober up, though his body was still excited from the show.  His 
hands were twitching deliberately, like he was trying to direct a chorus of 
marionettes.  ÒBeautiful Noise was all about having people rise above their 
problems, and find a common ground.  With CC, we're darker, not hopeful.  We're 
not talking about evilness, that's crazy.  The music we play is different.  It's 
like that.Ò

ÒAllow me.Ò  Asrial placed her hand on Yoshi's shoulders, and the touch helped 
return him to reality.  ÒEveryone has lighter and darker sides in their persona.  
I believe, deeply, that we should act upon the light and not act upon the dark.  
Having said that, it's not so easy.Ò  She leaned down and reached around the 
edge of the sofa, pulling forward a cooler.  She lifted off the top and set it 
carefully aside.  After offering bottled water to all present, she finally 
opened one for herself and sipped it carefully.

Something in Alita caught the subtle mannerisms.  Asrial was different from 
other people she had met.  Shumira, for instance, would have leaned over the arm 
of the sofa, flipped off the top, grabbed a bottle for herself and then asked if 
Alita wanted something to drink.  Asrial was more....refined...than anyone Alita 
could think of immediately.  The word elegant came to mind.

Asrial carefully replaced the top, then continued.  ÒHow do you define what is 
light and what is darkness?  It only makes sense that the characteristics of one 
are antithetical--excuse me, opposite--of the other.  But that's a foolish 
definition, if you don't know what either really is.  So, when I perform--when I 
write songs, mainly--I try to come to understand goodness and evil.  Though evil 
gives me pain and goodness gives me pleasure, I try to understand them both on 
the same terms.Ò

Alita was agog.  ÒWhat?  I--I don't understand, that sounds...Ò

ÒAwful?Ò  Yoshi laughed.  ÒThat's what I first thought when I met Asrial.  But 
it's kind of hard to explain with words, it's like--you don't promote anger, 
fear, frustration, any of that stuff.  You come to understand it through the 
music, and then you're able to make peace with it in your spirit.Ò  He half-
turned.  ÒAsrial, do that version of 'Sober', the one for solo piano.Ò

ÒUH?Ò  John grunted.  He was fading.  ÒIzzat da one wid all da bass?Ò

ÒPrecisely.  First set, third song.  I saw your eyes light up.  Not everyone can 
appreciate what a beautiful instrument the bass guitar is, but I'm glad you 
can.Ò  Asrial seated herself at a keyboard, changed the voice to piano.  
Everyone moved themselves into an attentive position, and Asrial slipped a 
headset on.  ÒTesting...testing...slip and slide, slip and slide...very good.Ò  
She looked at Alita.  ÒI rewrote the lyrics myself.Ò

The opening theme began as a two-note trill, very high; the synthesizer played 
notes that a piano would have had difficulty with.  The trill fell with a grace 
note into a string of arpeggia, then found the main theme.  In the right hand, 
the higher notes, it was an ethereal two-chord variation that wandered in 
between the pentatonic and the blues scales.

The blues must be Asrial's own addition.  

 The left hand, the bass line, was almost distractingly simple.  Two chords.  
Repeat.  Two chords.  Repeat.

There's a shadow just behind me
Shrouding ev'ry step I take
Haunting ghosts cannot remind me
Sowing pain within my wake
Innocence is torn by fury
Finger on the trigger rests
Murder now the young babe, must we
For the tale inside my breast?

Father, won't you lay your hands on
Something that is past and done?
Father, heal the scars of battle
Quick, before the sun is come?

Why can't we not be sober?
I just want to start this over
Why can't we drink forever?
I just want to start this over.

In the set earlier in the evening, she had swelled for the chorus; but this time 
Asrial actually lowered her voice.  Alita noticed her care with the song became 
almost maternal for the four lines of the bridge.  

She's so sensitive with her music...and she's so, I don't know...cultured.

Alita sighed.

I wish I could be more like her.

Asrial continued.

He is just  a worthless liar
She is just an imbecile
I will serve to crucify you
Trust in me and fall as well
You will find a center in me
You will beautify and leave
I will work to elevate you
Dare you come down to receive?

Mother Mary wouldn't whisper
Speeches but the past and done
Father Joseph, come to comfort
The Lamb of God upon the run

Why can't we not be sober?
I just want to start this over
Why can't it sleep forever?
I just want to start this over
I...

Once again, Asrial deviated from the earlier performance.  Rather than let the 
music fade, both hands began to chase one another, up and down the keyboard, 
building scales of every different nature, each one a simple segue to the next.  
Asrial half-spoke, half-sang:

I am but a worthless liar
I am but an imbecile
I will only complicate you
Trust in me and fall as well
I will find a center in you
I will hide within and live
Trust me...trust me...trust me...

She looked into Alita's eyes.

Don't trust me.

Alita gasped with shock at the suddenness of Asrial's behavior, and stopped 
listening, needing the moment to contain her emotions.  Asrial's scales slowed, 
then bridged into the original theme:

Why can't we not be sober?
I just want to start this over
Why can't it sleep forever?
I just want to start this over
I want what I want
I want what I want

Alita stared blankly as Asrial closed her eyes and ended--rather than on a crash 
of chords--with a soft, even glissade.  She was half-frozen, enraptured by the 
fading sounds of the piano, her head tossed back, her hair away from her face.  
Alita looked at that face, at the wide eyes, the rounded shape, and wondered if 
she ever looked as beautiful as Asrial did.

Before she could reprimand herself for her jealousy Asrial (still frozen) 
murmured, ÒI think Yoshi has faded away from us.Ò

ÒHuh?Ò  Alita said.  ÒJohn, has Yoshi gone to sleep?  John?Ò

Alita was about to repeat herself when a quiet snore issued from JohnÕs 
slumbering form.  Guess they've lost their tolerance to staying out all night, 
she chuckled to herself.  Asrial pssted to get her attention, and nodded towards 
the door.  The two women excused themselves to continue their talk beneath the 
canopy of stars the cloudless night afforded.

ÒDo you smoke, Alita?Ò  asked Asrial, reaching for their windbreakers.

ÒN-no.  No, I don't.Ò

ÒNor I.  It's an abominable habit.Ò  Asrial chuckled and handed Alita her coat.  
The jacket was folded neatly across Asrial's forearm.  ÒWe'll have to come up 
with some other excuse to be out late at night.Ò

Alita was quick to think.  ÒI want to see the construction site!  Can we walk 
over that way?Ò

The young woman looked at her guest.  Alita's eyes were wide open; her smile was 
almost simpering.  She was crumpling up the collar of her jacket in her hands 
and letting the sleeves and tails drag on the ground.  Asrial had to laugh.  

She's trying so, so hard to make a good impression on me...and she's doing it, 
too.  

ÒOf course we can.  When we come back, you're welcome to sleep on my futon if 
the truck doesn't suit you.Ò

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

The construction site of the factory was like a giant creature from another age, 
suspended in space and time.  The girders, of course, were the bones; and they 
made for the largest share of the similarity.  There were other, more subtle 
cues.  The massive earthworking machines lay idle all around, like kindred 
fossils, across the  site.  Darkness hid their edges, making them seem to be an 
emulsion in the liquid shadow, or half-lysed cells encased in a bed of coal.  
There were more evident signs of a human presence:  the foreman's shack, 
portable toilets, litter, the odor of stale beer, a hundred thousand minutiae.

Asrial spoke.  ÒI've visited the site before...at night.  I fancy it more when 
the sky is overcast, beautiful though it may be with the stars.  When there are 
clouds, it seems more like the Earth and the sky all form a single womb, and 
this is a child in that womb, growing with the aid of tiny machines in place of 
cells.Ò

ÒWow,Ò murmured Alita.  ÒWhere in the world did you think of that?Ò

Asrial shrugged dismissively.  ÒSomething was bound to come to me sooner or 
later.  I've been about before, as I said.  And, would you believe it?  I work 
here as well.Ò

ÒYou're kidding!Ò

ÒMm-mm.  Ò Asrial shook her head and leaned up against the chain link fence, her 
hands in her pockets.  ÒMy job is--no, I won't tell you.  I want you to guess.Ò

ÒOK, gimme a minute.Ò  

She works at a construction site, but she's an  artist...she wants to do 
something kind of unusual.  No, wait--if she did, she'd have told me right away!  
I'll bet anything she's got a perfectly usual job!  

ÒYou drive one of the rigs around, don't you?Ò

ÒYes.  Well, not really.Ò  Asrial was laughing with Alita.  ÒI drive a front end 
loader.Ò

ÒNo...get out!Ò, Alita laughed, giving her new friend a playful jab.

Asrial and Alita laughed together, reveling in their joke.  After a moment, 
Asrial held up one hand, shushing Alita.  ÒI do this routine for all the boys; I 
think that you can appreciate it.Ò  She rolled back her shoulders and bent her 
knees; then she began to mime the basic actions of driving the shovel around, 
complete with sound effects, lurches, and a few choice words for unseen co-
workers scrambling around her: ÒHey, you inbred sheep's rectum!  Watch where 
you're stepping, or I'll scoop you into ground beef!...yeah, I know Schwartz is 
in the tacos, let's see if you know how to move your legs!Ò

After a few minutes and a fair amount of hysterics on her audience's part, 
Asrial stopped her clowning.  ÒIf you've still got your wits about you, I can 
take you into the site proper.  We can poke around under the superstructure 
itself.  It has a strange kind of beauty from the inside, I predict that you'll 
enjoy it also.Ò

ÒSure,Ò said Alita.  She was sniffling and trying to control her breath, but her 
paroxysms of laughter hadn't brought her to the ground.  She was standing on her 
own an arm's length from the fence.  

ÒThen come along.Ò  Asrial turned and started to lead the way.  ÒWe have to go 
aro--???Ò

From behind her was a viff of fabric flapping through the air, then a heavy 
thud.  Asrial looked back to see Alita crouched on the ground, giggling at her 
friend's amazement.  ÒRace ya!Ò

ÒYou---I didn't just miss you jump over a security fence, did I?Ò

ÒYou wouldn't have if you didn't turn around,Ò teased Alita.  To demonstrate her 
athletic prowess and cybernetic abilities she repeated the effort.  ÒMy 
landlady, Mrs.  Jimenez, she's always getting on me for coming indoors like 
that.  'Alita, the window is NOT a door!' I never hear the end of it.Ò

Asrial didn't hear her.  She pensively tugged at the braided leather belt she 
wore, and glanced suspiciously toward Alita as they walked towards the gate.  
ÒTell me, are all the cyborgs in the Scrapyard as good at that sort of thing as 
you are?Ò, she said, regarding Alita cattily.

ÒNo.  I mean, you meet people who know some gymnastics, or who can do some Tai 
Chi, but pretty much...everything in the Scrapyard is all about doing a Factory 
job, and nothing else.  'The screech of steel machines is louder and shriller 
than the course of creation.' Nobody does anything cul--Ò

ÒThat quote!Ò

ÒEh?Ò

ÒThat's from 'The Ship', by H.  H.  Jahnn, isn't it?Ò  They had reached the main 
gate, and Asrial could hardly take the time to undo the padlock.  Any 
nervousness from the past few moments was gone, replaced by indelible 
excitement.

ÒI'll be damned, NOBODY in this town knows who ten authors are, let alone HIM!  
Wherever did you hear about him?Ò

As they walked onto the construction site, Alita told Asrial of her relationship 
with Stringfellow, and of the changes that had been going on inside her.  She 
tried to remember everything she could about the library.  Asrial was spellbound 
as she listened to Alita's description.

Ò...'The Ship' was the second or third one of his I read.  I like...I don't 
know.  He kind of leaves you guessing, doesn't he?  What's going to come next?  
The fiancee is walking through the ship's hull, then he's talking with the 
ship's cook, and after that, doesn't the father find out?  Or something?Ò

"'Maybe...I can't remember when he found out.  It's been a while.Ò  Asrial 
kicked a few pebbles with the toe of her boot.  All about them was metal--I-
beams, rivets,
corrugated iron, the boom of a crane visible outside like the bill of the bird 
it was named for.  ÒSomething about the father's behavior seemed unreal to my 
mind.  If I was a father, and I found out that my daughter's fiancee was aboard-
-and in her cabin, no less--I would be much more angered, I would think, than 
the ship's owner was.Ò

ÒAsrial, c'mon.Ò  Alita sat down upon a stacked pile of I-beams, and Asrial 
joined her.  "They were engaged, it doesn't make that much of a difference...Ò

ÒYes--Ò

ÒI mean, it's still commitment, they love each other.  If the dad's going to do 
something weird, then his--being weird--Ò 

Eagh...I should mind my grammar!  I sound like I've been hangin' out with 
Shumira...

 Ò...it's...ah...er...it's just the way he behaves, Asrial.  People don't break 
character for no reason.  If you haven't seen something bad or good in a person 
before, that doesn't mean it never existed.Ò

ÒIs that so?Ò  There was a tenderness in Asrial's voice that Alita hadn't caught 
before.  She thought she was walking into raw territory, and she wondered if 
Asrial had been hurt in a relationship some time in the past.

ÒYeah.  I mean, look at yourself.Ò  She jumped up off their seat and gestured 
with both hands toward her friend.  ÒYou're a warrior--you're probably the only 
woman in your job.  You're also a romantic, you love the fine arts.  And 
you...I...gosh...Asrial?Ò

Asrial gave no reply.  She simply turned to gaze at the stars shining in the 
clear moonlit sky.  Alita smiled in admiration at her.  

How does she do it?   How does she face her fate so calmly?   

What is it she knows that I donÕt?

Several minutes of silence passed as the two women drank in the majesty the 
clear night sky spread out before them.  Her previous question having been left 
unanswered bugged her momentarily, but was soon forgotten as another inquiry 
formed in her mind.  After a time, Alita again seated herself next to Asrial, 
who still stared skyward.

ÒAsrial?Ò

ÒHm?Ò, she replied, turning to face her.

ÒHow is it you stay so calm?   How is it that you---Ò, she trailed off, trying 
to recall the right word, Ò---exude such an aura of peacefulness about you?Ò

ÒYou mean, how can I be so equant?Ò, Asrial replied.

ÒYeah.  Equant.Ò  Where have I heard that word before?

ÒSimple, really.  Eight hours of sleep a night and three squares a day, for 
startersÒ, she laughed.  Alita began laughing with her as she continued.  ÒOne 
must have a firm foundation upon which to stand.Ò

Before Alita could reply, Asrial broke into a full sprint toward the steel 
skeleton of the half-finished building and leaped up upon one girder, then 
another, until she was at least a full ten meters above the ground.  Alita 
gulped.

I sincerely hope Asrial knows just WHAT she's doing.

Asrial raised her voice as she addressed Alita.  ÒOf course, there is something 
to be said for balance, also.   Light and Dark.  Hot and Cold.  Good and Evil.  
Um and Yeung.

ÒEqual but Opposite.Ò

Alita watched dumbfoundedly as Asrial proceeded to do a full cartwheel on the 
girder.  She allowed herself a grin at the sight of AlitaÕs slack jaw.  ÒLike 
right now, Alita.  The current system is in a state of low entropy, as is the 
nature of things.  Gravity is balancing perfectly against the force of my 
muscles and focused directly above the fulcrum...the contact point between my 
feet and this girder.  Even if I attempt to upset the system, it always seeks 
equilibrium in earnest.  It always returns to zero.Ò

With that, Asrial spread her arms wide and fell backwards.  She watched in 
horror as Asrial plummeted earthward, then doubted her own eyes as Asrial 
performed tucked herself into a ball.  Alita was agog as Asrial performed a 
perfect double somersault and  landed with hardly a sound.

Straightening herself, Asrial turned back to Alita, still gawking at her in 
total wonderment.   ÒLiving in harmony with the forces at work around us, Alita.  
This is how one can achieve equance.Ò

AlitaÕs eyes had grown incredibly wide, and Asrial reflected a moment at how 
pleased with herself she was to have impressed her so.  She had barely time to 
hear Alita yell ÒAsrial!   Behind y--Ò before her world went black.

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

It was his lucky day.

HeÕd been in a slump for six months.   And now, he thought as he rolled over his 
stunned prey, preparing for the killing blow, the world will see just how great 
a bounty hunter Sacuud really is!

Savoring the moment, Sacuud sat back on his haunches aside AsrialÕs limp body.  
HeÕd whacked her over the head good all right.  Not enough to kill but enough to 
induce internal hemorrhaging, of that he was sure.   ÒFeh!   I donÕt know why 
those other guys had so much trouble bringing her down...these full wetware 
bounties donÕt stand a chance against us Ôborgs anyway.Ò  He figured it was only 
a matter of time before nature took its course and she expired, but Sacuud, ever 
the impatient, decided to help speed up the process.

He straddled Asrial and drew forth the long knife he kept at his side.   ÒYouÕre 
about to find out firsthand why they call me ‘Sacuud The Savage', babe.Ò  He 
popped the buttons off of AsrialÕs blouse with the knife tip one by one,  
laughing giddily like a schoolchild at recess.   He laid her chest bare with one 
flick of the knifeÕs razor sharp point, a thin line of blood down her chest 
tracing the path of the blade.  Sacuud brought the blood-covered tip of the 
knife to his face, savoring his victory as he licked her blood with his tongue.

Sacuud felt the adrenaline rush coming as he drooled over his quarry.  He palmed 
his knife, turned it point down, and, taking it with both hands over his head, 
drew back to deliver the coup de grace.

ÒSACUUD THE SORRY-ASS, YOU MEAN!Ò, a voice thundered from out of nowhere.  
Startled, Sacuud looked towards where the voice had come.  

Alita had crossed the site in three bounds, and now stood before Sacuud.  She 
remembered him as a hunter-warrior wanna-be, an underhanded, unscrupulous excuse 
of one at that.  This display would have normally sickened her, of course, but 
would not have been sufficient stimulus to predicate her intervention.  

But this time's different!   This is Asrial...this is my friend...

The ramifications of what would happen to her if she intervened (like 
potentially becoming bounty herself) were far from her mind as she glared at 
him, fists clenched.  

Sacuud, you bastard...I will NOT permit you to hurt my friend anymore.

A vision came to her...a vision of Clive Lee, the ÒWhite Hot PalmÒ, ripping Hugo 
to shreds.  It seemed like so long ago...

In that instant, her last ounce of restraint vaporized; she bit her lip so hard 
had it the capability it would most certainly have bled.   Decision made, she 
sprang.

Alita drew a bead on SacuudÕs head as she launched herself into a flying side 
kick.   At the last possible moment, Sacuud ducked.  She had cleared him before 
she realized what was happening, but by then it was too late.

ÒS-SH-SHIT!Ò

She landed on her buttocks, skipping across the construction site like a flat 
stone on a calm lake until she crashed into, and through, the cyclone fence and 
its accompanying barbed wire.

Tut.  Now THAT was REALLY careless, Alita thought as she attempted to free 
herself from the jagged metal.  She managed to turn enough to look back at where 
Sacuud still crouched atop Asrial, realizing as the bile built up in the back of 
her throat that she had failed in her attempt to save her friend.

Oh, good God, Asrial, IÕm so sorry...how couldÕve I been so---

Her self-reproach was cut short as she noticed Sacuud wasnÕt....moving.  HeÕd 
slumped over top of her, and had been motionless since.  Before Alita could 
process what had happened, Sacuud shrieked.  He threw his arms out wide and 
threw the knife carelessly away, landing point down in the earth nearby.

Alita watched mouth agape, as Asrial rose and roughly swatted Sacuud away.   He 
fell to the ground, coiling up into a fetal position as he grabbed at his crotch 
feverishly.  It was then that Alita saw the blood.

Blood spurted from the wound as Sacuud desperately tried to staunch the blood 
flowing from his crotch.  AsrialÕs face was covered ear to ear with blood, 
giving her almost the look of an evil clown from some ancient horror story.  All 
to once, she spat something out of her mouth...Alita watched in horror as two 
ovular objects bounced after hitting the ground.

Asrial had castrated him.

Alita continued to watch as Asrial calmly walked over to where Sacuud cowered, 
whimpering slightly.  Alita looked on unmoving as Asrial unclasped the belt she 
had been wearing and gave it a sharp flick.  The belt grew to double its length, 
uncoiling itself with a loud CRACK!

Asrial stood with her whip at the ready, towering over SacuudÕs trembling form.  

ÒYep.  That mean bitch ripped every one of them to shreds.Ò

The bloodwrath had taken Asrial wholly, body and soul.  Her eyes completely red, 
Asrial subjected Sacuud to agony the likes of which would strike fear into the 
heart of even the most stalwart Hunter-Warrior.

F33-405 was no exception.  Alita stood aghast at the sight before her.  He 
cowered before Asrial like a dog silently pleading to its master to cease 
beating it.  

Sacuud's shrieks were barely audible above her whip's crackle as Asrial 
proceeded to rip his artificial epidermis completely off.

One patch at a time.

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

Alita was still in a state of shock as she wandered back to where Asrial stood.  
She had finally managed to free herself from the knotted mess of sharp steel 
wire that formerly was a cyclone fence.  Her clothing was torn in several 
places, including a gash down the front of her blouse that came very close to 
completely exposing her midriff.

Asrial was standing over SacuudÕs body.  In her fury, her whip had completely 
ripped off his garments, his artificial skin, his protective undercoating, 
everything.  

Death had not been slow in coming.

Ò...what was left of them looked like beef jerky...Ò

Alita came up just in time to hear Asrial mutter to no one in particular, 
Ò...just when I get settled somewhere new, THEY have to show up again.  I wish 
theyÕd just leave me a---Ò.

Alita noticed that Asrial had cut herself off in mid-sentence, and turned to her 
in askance.  ÒIs something wrong?Ò  , she inquired, only to have her question 
answered when she saw AsrialÕs expression become one of utter damnation.  

Asrial said nothing.  Instead, she stared iclily at Alita, eyes fixed on the 
pendant that had slipped out from under Alita's shirt through the torn fabric.  
ÒAsrial, what is --?Ò

ÒNo....Ò, Asrial said weakly, her knees trembling.  Her eyes remained locked on 
the pendant.  Alita could almost feel the temperature drop as their eyes met.  
In one awful moment she realized the musician, the literata, the young woman 
known as Asrial she had only begun to know was nowhere to be found.

In her place stood the sum total of all hatred, which, at this moment, glared at 
her with eyes colder than blue steel.

Her lips forming a thin line, Asrial spoke in measured tones.  

ÒWhat...have...you...done...with...I-do?Ò  

Ido?   What the hell does Ido have to do with anything?   As she drew away from 
AsrialÕs advance, Alita stumbled.  She recovered, and felt the pendant thump 
back into place on her chest.  All to once, the realization came to her.

ÒBehold St.  Christopher, and go thy way in safety.Ò

Alita looked down at the medal briefly, then up at Asrial, who closed on her 
menacingly.   Her mind aflutter with the incredulous notion that Asrial actually 
knew Ido foremost in her mind, she was a split second late in reacting as Asrial 
lunged for her throat.

The stars were bright indeed as the back of AlitaÕs brainbox slammed up against 
the girder behind her with force enough to have certainly killed a non-cyber.  
Asrial stood before her, one hand clutching her throat, the other on the whipÕs 
pommel in a manner not unlike the previous moments as she ruthlessly used it to 
cut Sacuud to ribbons.  Alita swallowed hard as AsrialÕs cold gaze regarded her.  

Dear God, what brought THIS on?

The realization and subsequent action took place within a quarter second.  Alita 
crossed her hands over top of the arm that restrained her and brought them down 
and in, hooking Asrial and drawing her close.  Taking care not to inflict damage 
upon her, Alita thrust down AsrialÕs arm, forcing her to the ground.  Alita 
jumped over Asrial as she lay prone on the ground to take up a defensive 
position to her back.

ÒAsrial, I donÕt know how you know Ido, but he saved my life.  HeÕs been like a 
father to me...he's a cyberdoctor and a Hunter-Warrior and a--Ò

Her words stuck in her throat as the thing that had once been Asrial turned to 
face her.   

And roared.

Alita knew terror, the terror of the darkened amphitheater of madness.  Asrial 
was no longer herself.  Her eyes were now protuberant red masses, with deep 
black pupils within them.  Her cheekbones had raised and the flesh on her face 
was now pulled back.  Asrial's canine teeth had lengthened into horrible fangs; 
talons replaced what had once been her fingernails.  Her ears elongated and 
stiffened with new cartilage, but remained close to the sides of her head.  
Alita's mind, focusing on this triviality, realized that it was to make any 
attack on her outer or inner ear difficult.  Asrial had changed her shape right 
before Alita's eyes.

Asrial roared again as she bore down upon Alita.  Eyes consumed with bloodwrath, 
she leapt into the air and snapped the tail of the whip close over AlitaÕs head.  
As Alita crossed her arms above her in defense, little spikes impaled themselves 
into her forearms and legs.  Alita shrieked, succumbing not to physical pain but 
rather to mental anguish.  The sensation of pain from the strikes never 
registered as she came to the horrible realization that Asrial meant indeed to 
kill her.

The whip coiled itself around AlitaÕs middle as Asrial struck again.  This time, 
however, Alita was prepared.  Taking the whip with both hands, Alita pulled her 
hardest, jerking Asrial off her feet and sending her headlong towards her.  She 
was just about ready to grapple her when Asrial balled herself up and rolled 
right between Alita's legs.  Asrial was up like a shot, and launched herself 
vertically with incredible force.  As she flew up, Asrial tucked in her legs and 
loosed them into a two-footed kick that sent Alita headlong into one of the 
buildingÕs primary beams.

The THUD of AlitaÕs primary impact was immediately followed by the FA-WOOM of 
the explosion.  The whipÕs needles, still impaled in AlitaÕs frontal area, were 
finely shaped shards of piezoexplosive crystal, and had detonated from the force 
of her impact.  Alita moaned an wordless sound of agony as her battered body 
slammed into the beam opposite.

Neither combatant heard the groan emanating from the structural steel that 
carried the building's load.  Alita had induced just enough stress into the 
system to cause an imbalance, and, true to what Asrial had previously spoken 
about, the system was now attempting to return to equilibrium.

By whatever means necessary.

Slumping down against the bent girder, she shook her head wearily.  In that 
moment, she thought of  String...and of Ido...and of John and of Shumira and of 
the library and of all the things she had to do when she returned to the 
Scrapyard, all the people who she loved and who, each in their own way, loved in 
return.  She knew she had to survive, for them if not for herself.  

So many questions remained to be answered.  So many questions remained to be 
asked.  

Asrial, I'm not prepared to die before I find out what's possessed you!!!

Alita howled like a rabid animal as she lunged headlong toward her opponent.  
Asrial prepared a defense, but at the last possible second, Alita changed 
course.  Grabbing the scruff of her neck and pant waist as she tromped by, Alita 
took Asrial off her feet, throwing her headlong into a nearby brick pile.

Asrial's bestial mind had not yet came to the realization Alita resolved to win 
this bout strategically.  Alita could tell that Asrial was in a berserker rage, 
and all she needed to do was avoid her long enough for the fight to go out of 
her.  It didnÕt even bother Alita when Asrial sprang from the pile of broken 
bricks, landing to grab her whip about fifteen feet away.

Alita heard the telltale sound of the main beam failing as it began to buckle.

Asrial did not.

As Asrial cradled her whip, Alita sprang.  Lunging herself at Asrial with full 
force, she slammed into her with enough momentum to propel the two of them into 
the far corner of the building's half-completed first story.  Asrial coiled 
herself underneath Alita, and was making to deliver a double-footed kick that 
would certainly have caved in AlitaÕs artificial internal organs, but, 
responding to some little voice inside her, she hesitated.

Half a second later, the ceiling above the spot where the two of them had 
previously been disappeared as several tons of concrete and steel came slamming 
to the floor.   Both of their senses were assaulted as the deafening roar and 
stifling dust cloud enveloped them.  The impact was so great the concrete slab 
cracked and buckled, sloping the remaining floor at a sharp angle toward the 
center.

Several minutes passed before the dust had cleared enough for Alita and Asrial 
to stop coughing.  Alita stood and offered Asrial her hand.  ÒCÕmon,  weÕve had 
enough fun for one day, wouldnÕt you say?Ò

Asrial was dumbstruck.  The bloodwrath had left her, and she looked quizically 
at Alita as her facial features returned to their normal form.  Her eyes had 
returned to their normal pale blue, her ears had shortened and drawn themselves 
away from the sides of her head.  Her teeth sunk back into their sockets in her 
jaw, permitting Asrial to speak again instead of merely growl.  Recollections of 
the events of the last several minutes rocked her to her very core.  This young 
cyborg woman, practically a stranger, had been the undeserving recipient of a 
rage that had been building for far too long.  She had almost killed her, the 
only person in the last five years who had been brave enough to help her meet 
her past head on and overcome it.

Asrial began to cry with joy that she had been unsuccessful.

Alita threw one arm around Asrial as she helped her limp away from the rubble 
pile.  Tears were still streaming down either side of her face when she turned 
to Alita, stammering ÒI donÕt know what came over me, Alita.  IÕm so very 
sorry...please, believe that.Ò

ÒI do, Asrial, I do.  Your emotions had taken hold of your senses.  You were 
simply out of control.  I wouldnÕt begrudge you for that.Ò

Just as Asrial was about to say something else, a support truss above them 
creaked, then gave way.  As it snapped like a dry twig, Alita threw Asrial 
harshly to the floor.  ÒBALL UP!   NOW!Ò  she screamed; Asrial had regained 
enough presence of mind to obey without question.  Falling down over top of her, 
Alita dropped down on all fours, covering the debris and rubble from the second 
cave in.  Hearing two more secondary trusses wail a final dirge as they sheared 
in half, she knew that this cave in would be this buildingÕs death knell.  
Beneath her, Alita noticed Asrial was mute with shock.  Recalling the St.  
ChristopherÕs medallion still hanging around her neck, Alita said a silent 
prayer that they might live to look back on this day.  A vision of the two of 
them sitting together drinking tea and laughing uproariously appeared, and Alita 
managed a wan smile.

Her smile left abruptly as a stray chunk of concrete struck her squarely on the 
back of her head.  The happy scene there only moments ago faded away as the 
blackness crept in from AlitaÕs peripheral vision, quickly obscuring everything.

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

At first, John and Yoshi had been too shocked to move.

Having woken up alone in Asrial's flat only minutes before, the two of them had 
just began to wander the streets of Farm 310 to find Asrial and Alita.  John had 
just tapped Yoshi on the shoulder to tell him to look over at the construction 
site, but then hesitated as he tried to make out just what it was the two 
figures he thought to be Alita and Asrial  had been doing.  

Have they been fighting?   N-no, of course not.  That's ridiculous, John.  Get 
hold of yourself, man!

John hadnÕt had the chance to ruminate.   Just as heÕd realized that the fight 
had gone out of the two of them and they were coming back, the building had 
collapsed on top of them.

The dust had barely settled when John and Yoshi regained their wherewithal, and 
they immediately sprang into action.  Leaping atop a nearby dozer, Yoshi 
reflexively grabbed the handle on the cab door and turned it.  Throwing the door 
open, he was just about to step inside when he stopped and looked behind him.  
Dozens of onlookers had appeared out of nowhere at the bone-jarring sound of the 
collapse, and now stood staring at him in askance like so many lost sheep.

His face flushed as his rage peaked at their dumbfoundedness.  ÒCÕmon, you 
stupid morons!    Help me out here!   There are at LEAST two people trapped in 
there, including one of our own!   DonÕt just stand there gawking!   
EVERYONE...GRAB A SHOVEL...GRAB A PICKAXE!   TIMEÕS RUNNING OUT!Ò, he bellowed.

All around him, people were beginning to mobilize.  Yoshi cranked on the dozerÕs 
starter, and it sprang to life with a throaty roar.  He ran the throttle up to 
wide open, picked up the blade, and grabbed the clutch handles so hard his 
knuckles turned white.    The great dozer began lumbering across the job site, 
reaching the caved-in entrance at the same time other people began swinging the 
pickaxes and shovels they had picked up at Yoshi's urging.

He caught a glimpse of a puff of smoke in his peripheral vision.  He glanced 
just long enough to see John at the controls of a excavator equipped with a 
hydraulic shear in place of its bucket begin nipping at a twisted mass of steel 
rebar.  Yoshi allowed himself a quick smile, then returned to the task at hand.

Good God, I hope weÕre not to late,  he thought, refusing to let panic wrest his 
senses and judgment from him.  Hold on, you two!

Hold on...

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

The darkness wouldnÕt have been so bad by itself, but this darkness was 
accompanied by  the pungent odor of concrete dust and the stink of stale air.  
In this most inhospitable of places, Alita and Asrial were laid out roughly on 
top of each other, both unconscious.  No one was witness to their death-like 
torpor both were in, and there was no one around to rejoice as consciousness 
slowly returned to them.

ÒUnnghÒ, was all Alita could manage, as she painfully began to lift herself off 
of AsrialÕs body.  

Hope this is covered under warranty.

She chuckled slightly at her own wit, until she discovered that laughing, 
literally, hurt.  

Ooooh...mustÕve bruised a few ribs.

Alita determined that if she could still feel pain and her sense of humor hadnÕt 
been affected, then she would be all right.  She raised herself up to a kneeling 
position, slowly so as not to bonk her already pounding head against something 
above.  Bringing her legs around to a sitting position, she gave her head a 
shake, as if to clear it.   

Oh dear God...I hope Asrial is--

Alita's thought was cut short as whatever she was sitting on caved in and rose, 
several times in rapid succession, each time accentuated with a cough that was 
not her own.  Immediately, she felt relived...Asrial was still alive.

ÒAlita...  koff ...get off my stomach, would you?  koffÒ

ÒOh.  Sorry.Ò    

Something went thump, and Alita cut loose a string of profanity enough to 
embarrass even the most vulgar Hunter-Warrior.  She sat back down and rubbed her 
head gingerly.  Asrial, her eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness, did not see 
what happened, but inquired if Alita was okay just the same.

ÒYeah, I guess.  You?Ò

ÒIÕve got a knot on my head the size of Tiphares, but IÕll be fine...  koffÒ   

Silence.

ÒTheyÕll be awhile in coming, but theyÕll come, just the sameÒ, Alita remarked.

ÒWhat are you talking about?Ò

ÒJohn and Yoshi, of course.  TheyÕre bound to have seen what happened, and IÕm 
sure theyÕre even right now preparing to dig us out of here.Ò

Alita heard Asrial begin to sob.

ÒWhat...what is it, Asrial?Ò, Alita asked, fumbling around in the darkness until 
her hand found her friendÕs.  She clenched it as hard as she dared as a 
demonstration of their solidarity.

Asrial didnÕt hear her.  She just kept crying as years of bitterness and pain 
came forth from her battered psyche.  Alita merely held her hand and let the 
pain channel its way out of her spirit.

After a time, Asrial gagged and spat up something.  Yuck, Alita thought, 
grateful that the darkness prevented her from seeing what it was.

All to once, AsrialÕs crying stopped.  Alita did not see her turn to face her 
general direction as she began to speak.

ÒI wanted it to end, Alita.  Despite who you might think I really am, the truth 
is, you have no idea.Ò

ÒYouÕre rightÒ, she replied.  ÒI donÕt know who you really are.  I thought I 
did...Ò

Asrial chuckled.  ÒThatÕs because IÕve been putting on good show these last five 
years.  IÕve been on the run almost as long as I can remember.  I just wanted it 
to end...I just wanted the running to be over...Ò

She cut herself off as another sob caught in her throat.

ÒWhy do you run, Asrial?   What do you run from?   From whom?Ò

Alita heard Asrial blow out her breath.  ÒA long time ago...it all began so long 
ago...Ò

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

Asrial had difficulty getting started, but eventually composed herself enough to 
divulge to Alita the struggles of her last five years.  Asrial explained her 
being a shapeshifter, 
capable of morphing herself into whatever mammalian form she chose.  

Thoughts her Scrapyard tangle with Megil the Pharmacist came to mind, and 
that...that...thing he had morphed into courtesy of the lycanthropazine.  Alita 
shuddered.

She listened intently as Asrial described the state of the Scrapyard at that 
time.  The Factory depended on Scrapyard labor for the production and 
distribution of goods to Tiphares, given the infrastructure to support a high 
degree of automation of the manufacturing and distribution process was in a 
state of disrepair.  As the infrastructure base declined, labor organizers used 
the sheer weight of their follower's numbers as a bargaining ploy.  The labor 
movement made bold demands the Factory to meet their terms for higher wages and 
better working conditions.  Factory analysts had recommended the Factory 
officials initially concede to their demands, for to quell the opposition by 
force would result in enough casualties to prevent the Factory from making its 
production quotas in several key areas.  The organizers of the moment were sly, 
however, they kept themselves well hidden, even to the monitoring faculties the 
Factory normally used to track the whereabouts of surface-dwellers.  The Factory 
administrators were counseled by their Tipharean counterparts to meet their 
current demands, but to keep Tiphares apprised of the labor situation.

A young investigator in the Material Control Bureau had been placed in charge of 
developing a counteroffensive to the perceived threat Labor posed to the 
uninterrupted flow of goods to Tiphares.  Subtlety was called for, and he knew 
this well.  A surgical offensive was required, designed to specifically 
eliminate the labor leaders in such a manner as to make their deaths appear 
accidental.  His ambition was high indeed, and he knew that to do so would 
demoralize the opposition enough to induce the disbanding of the movement.  He 
reasoned, in private and before his superiors, that this would be equivalent to 
crushing the head of the snake, and would most assuredly return the flow of 
goods between the Scrapyard and Tiphares to normal.

Bigott Eizenberg always had a way with words.

Upon further study, the ambitious bureaucrat had commissioned a team of 
Tipharean scientists to construct a Tipharean servant that would serve as the 
executioner of the Scrapyard's Big Labor leaders.  He needed skilled people, 
that was true.  But Eizenberg needed those naive enough to believe that the 
results of their research would be applied in a manner in line with the values 
all Tiphareans held dear.  By creating a series of humanoid drones tasked with 
collecting demographic information about the Scrapyard and the neighboring Farms 
and Mines, he explained, Tiphares would be better able to influence material 
delivery and production scheduling of durable and consumable goods.  Eizenberg 
looked to his peers in academia, for he believed them to posses the devotion to 
the Tipharean way of life and the high degree of naiveté he needed.

Given these metrics, Eizenberg recruited two young physicians he believed were 
far and away the best choice.  Not even a year had passed since Daisuke Ido and 
Junia Chiren had taken the Hippocratic Oath.

Ido and Chiren had collaborated with others, but Asrial explained this was pair 
that were to play the greatest role in her life.  Work began on developing a 
simulagent, one that would have the ability to change shape, allowing the agent 
to blend in well with the remainder of the Scrapyard population, hence, able to 
get close enough within Big Labor's inner circle to execute the opposition 
leaders.

Quick, easy, effective.  Eizenberg had done a great job selling the Council, 
especially Kappelmann, on the idea...so much so he was appointed director of the 
newly formed Ground Intelligence Bureau.  Everything short of the entirety of 
Tiphares' resources was placed at the disposal of ÒChief InspectorÒ Eizenberg to 
complete the development of the Assassination, Surveillance, Reconnaissance & 
Intelligence Anthropomorphic Lifeform.

A.  S.  R.  I.  A.  L.

Events began to take a perilous turn.  Ido had a revelation, one so powerful he 
would never view surface-dwellers in the same manner again.  At a visit to his 
friend Councilman Kappelmann's flat for a relaxing evening of stargazing, Ido 
realized the surface-dwellers were HUMAN, no more or less so than himself or any 
other Tipherean.

He did, however, keep these opinions to himself, until, of course, after getting 
good and drunk with Russell after one of the major project milestones had been 
reached.  He and Russell had developed quite a relationship by that point, 
enough to ensure that Ido's sentiments never reached Eizenberg's ears, but not 
enough for Ido to have confided in Russell his innermost desires.

To love.  To kill.

And then, something went terribly wrong.

The Velveteen Rabbit became real.

Asrial did not know the hour nor the day, but there came about a time...that 
incredible first moment in which the world around seemed more than individual 
constituents or datum points.  Him.  Her.  It.   She discovered that there was 
greatness and wonder in the world, and then she found greatness and wonder 
within herself.    Alita found herself nodding her head in the darkness; she 
could relate all too well.

Asrial recalled happy times in which Ido was conducting Òintegration testingÒ to 
evaluate her social skills.   They would be given liberty to enjoy a picnic 
beneath the spreading broadleafs in the part or enjoy an evening dancing, often 
sans Dr. Chiren (Asrial figured, correctly, as would be determined later, to 
Chiren's behest).  And, yes, Asrial had gotten to know Junia Chiren quite well, 
thank you very much.  Alita didn't ask, Asrial did not tell, but Alita could 
tell no love had ever been lost between the two of them.  Given her own 
recollection from what Ido had told her and her own dealings with his infamous 
former colleague, Alita was sure Chiren would not have stood by idly and merely 
allowed Asrial to come between her and Ido.

Something, however, changed.  Some one had spoken when silence was needed, or 
moved when pause was called for.  She found herself slated for "merciful 
release" after Ido was taken from her, sparking her first berzerker rage.  

Tiphares had not seen destruction on the scale she caused before nor since.   

Alita chuckled at Asrial's cleverness as she told of her escape, and realized, 
in one incredible moment, that she and Asrial shared a very special bond indeed.

Asrial had recieved the St.  Christopher's medal Alita wore in the first place, 
only to return it to him before his banishment.  ÒThat he would never forget 
me...his creation...his ch-childÒ, she sobbed.

If Ido created me, and Ido created her...are we...s-sisters?
  
Asrial and Alita sat in silence for a long time.

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

Alita began to giggle, which progressively developed into a full guffaw.  ÒPray 
elaborate, just WHAT are you laughing about?Ò, Asrial said sardonically.   
ÒOoh...this is just TOO perfectÒ, she replied, pleased with her crafty idea.  
ÒListen, Asrial...IÕve got a plan...Ò

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

ÒHey!   HEY!!   OVER HERE!!!Ò

A cheer rose through the crowd as the rescuers heard AlitaÕs voice.  Tired, 
dirty, and almost completely demoralized, they tore through the rubble with 
renewed vigor.  Within minutes, they had pulled her from the wreckage.  Her face 
grey with concrete dust and smeared with dirt,  she limped slightly from her 
bruised ribs as they helped her from the rubble.  Wrapping a blanket over her, 
they eased her down on a gurney as the local cyberphysician was beginning to 
examine her.

John and Yoshi were there almost immediately.  Yoshi stood next to John as he 
took one of her hands, almost completely lost in his, and clasped it firmly.  
ÒWe almost had you figured for a goner, Alita.  I would have never been able to 
look Ido in the eye again had anything happened to you.Ò

Alita managed a chuckle, until she was reminded that laughing hurt.  ÒJohn, Ido 
knows IÕm a big girl now...but thanks, just the same.Ò

Yoshi couldnÕt contain himself anymore.  He spoke for everyone with but a single 
word.  

ÒAsrial?Ò

Alita closed her eyes and shook her head.  

That told everyone what they needed to know, but had dared not think about in 
the hopes that there might have been a chance.  

Cries of hysteria came from several members of the gathered, and Alita got a 
glimpse of just how much Asrial meant to this community.  She caught snippets of 
conversation, all speaking so highly of Asrial...all lamenting just how they 
could possibly carry on with her gone.

The sky began to lighten in the east.  

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


"This is to be the resting site for Factory Farm Worker 310-012-481.  She is 
survived by no immediate relatives, only her true friends and co-workers.  Her 
passing shall be missed."

Yoshi stood before an assembly of dozens, gathered to remember Asrial before an 
enormous pile of twisted girders and broken concrete.

"Asrial came to us with nothing more than a set of three-days-dirty clothes.  
She didn't tell us much of why she had come.  Sometimes, she'd let on about a 
dead father, or an abusive mother.  It's not right to pry.

"We all took her in--every one of us--at some time or another.  We gave her a 
place to spend the night, or some work to do.  She loved to pitch in.  It seemed 
like, at times, just working here in town was the only thing that kept her 
going.

"I think the happiest day of her life was the day she got herself onto the 
Factory Work roll...

"The second happiest was her first recital.  Not everybody here knows it, but 
when she first came to town she'd take all her spare change and feed the 
jukeboxes in the bars around town.  Sometimes she'd sing along...Mike?  Where 
are you, Mike?  Show us where you are."

A nondescript man in the back of the crowd stood up on top of a car's hood and 
raised one hand.  "Mike Gharin, everyone.  He overheard Asrial singing down at 
Lyon's Den, and offered to be her voice coach.  Next thing you know, she was 
playing three instruments, and she read music even before she picked them up.  I 
don't think anyone here will ever know who she was, but we're mighty lucky to 
have had her."

Yoshi was silent for a moment, steadying himself.  "I knew her, even before I 
came to town.  Mike sent me a demo tape...oh, geez, it must have been at least a 
year ago now.  She sang simple tunes...the ones you knew as a kid...but she sang 
them like they were new things, fresh creations, that she was just watching, 
like you'd watch the sun rise.  How could I not want to come to know her better?  
I've only been here a couple of months now, coming to know her as a true friend; 
but I know her as good as anyone, because she is the kind of person I always 
wanted to be!

ÒBut--"

He was cut off by applause from the gathered crowd, and had to struggle to keep 
the memorial from ending in that moment.

"But even though I know her, I know that she wouldn't want us to be tied back by 
what's happened.  Asrial always believed that things were changing, and you--
how'd she put it--'you have to be quick or be dead'.  This town is changing, 
even as we make the change.  And like she lived to help this town...this town IS 
Asrial.  All the corn out in the fields, all the ethanol we distill, all the 
grain we send down the river..."

Yoshi paused to wipe his eyes.

Ò...Asrial will be right here, in spirit.  Just like she always was.Ò

ÒJust like she always will beÒ, a male voice said from the back of the crowd.

Various crowd members were heard to mutter ÒAmenÒ and ÒDamn straightÒ.  Others 
merely nodded their assent.  

Carlo, the burly site foreman, came forward from the crowd.  Into a small 
crevasse in the rubble, he placed a steel doughboy bump cap.  Bright yellow at 
one time, it wore the battle scars from steel and concrete construction workers 
wore as proudly as war wounds.  Setting the dented cap down in the crevasse, he 
turned it to face the crowd, allowing all to see the dirty red letters painted 
proudly onto the brim.

ÒSteamroller AsrialÒ, they read, one word above the other.

Sniffling slightly, Carlo turned and nodded.   All around the site the sound of  
earthmoving equipment turning over could be heard as their operators keyed their 
ignitions.  Black smoke poured forth from everywhere as each operator wound his 
machine up to red line.

Maid Marion was there, too.  With John's goading, she growled in tune with her 
diesel- and ethanol-powered brethren, joining in with the dirge of the machines 
Asrial loved.

Alita stood leaning against Marion's fender, the quiet of her demeanor 
contrasting sharply with the screaming machinery all around her.

ÒThe screech of steel machines is louder and shriller than the course of 
creation.Ò

And I think it best we drown it out right now.

Carlo held up his balled fist, the universal sign for solidarity.  From across 
the site, horns and whistles began blaring as every operator and his machine 
said goodbye to their fallen comrade.  The wailing and howling somehow blended 
together singing the funeral hymn sung many times before; the same one, each 
operator mulled to himself, that would be played for each and every one of them 
one day.

He dropped his fist.

The explosion sent up a wall of dust and smoke, obscuring the entire site.  

Asrial's memory was commended to the ages in a pile of twisted metal and broken 
concrete.  Playing out a scene performed countless times throughout history, the 
construction trades once again bid goodbye to one of their own.

Why can't we not be sober?
I just want to start this over...

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

Yoshi embraced John tearfully as John and Alita prepared to leave.  ÒHope next 
time you make it up here itÕs a little more non-eventfulÒ, he said, wiping his 
eyes.

ÒYeah.  I guess you guys really brought the house down,Ò he chuckled, until he 
noticed that Yoshi wasn't laughing.   John cleared his throat.

Alita stood away from the two of them looking longingly toward the north end of 
the valley.  John had noticed she'd been uncommunicative all morning, but 
decided better to let her grieve in her own way...give her the space he knew she 
needed.

Word had come from the Factory that the collapse was due in part to the area's 
unstable tectonics caused from hundreds of years of flooding.  Construction was 
to be postponed pending the location of a more suitable site, making the outlook 
of a Ònext timeÒ coming anytime soon dismal indeed.

John gave Yoshi a playful punch on the shoulder and hoisted himself into 
MarionÕs cab.  He turned the engine over as Alita hugged Yoshi carefully (her 
ribs still hurt) and gave one last look northward.

Alita sighed disappointedly.   John could tell sheÕd been uneasy all morning, 
and looked to her in askance.  ÒYou okay, Alita?Ò

ÒEh?Ò, she blinked.  ÒOh, yeah.  I was just --Ò

A dogÕs bark cut her off.   Any trace of her pensiveness vanished as Alita 
smiled broadly and a golden retriever ran up to her.   She stooped low to the 
canine, and it playfully began to lick her face.

ÒOh, THERE you are!   Silly dog!   We were just about ready to leave without 
you!Ò

John and Yoshi stared as her dumbfoundedly.  ÒOh.  Right.  This dog had been 
trapped with us under the rubble...Ò

Alita paused momentarily as she choked back a sob.

ÒAsrial died in a cave-in she made trying to free her.

ÒJohn, can she ride with us?   I want to take her home with me...and have a 
little reminder of our friend Asrial always near.Ò

John appeared pensive.  ÒWell, I dunno, I...Ò

ÒOh, cÕmon, JohnÒ, Alita replied, cutting him off.  ÒIÕll vacuum the cab out 
myself if youÕre worried about her shedding everywhere.Ò

John looked to Yoshi, and Yoshi nodded.  ÒVery well, then.  But that dog even 
THINKS about it in this cab IÕll--Ò

ÒOK, John, OK!   Trust me, sheÕll be fine.  WonÕt you, girl?Ò

ÒWOOF!Ò

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

Alita came through the door all at once, not even bothering to knock.  She knew 
from her phone call that Ido would be waiting.

Ido rushed to greet her.  Embracing her so as not aggravate her healing ribs, he 
began rambling, ÒAlita!   IÕd heard about the collapse and I was so worried 
about you and I--Ò

He had gripped close to him, only to draw back incredulously as he made one 
terrible realization.  

This...this...person...was not Alita...at least not the one he knew and loved.  

True, the young woman had Alita's build...her raven-black hair, her brown eyes, 
her pursed lips...but one inscrutable fact remained.

A fact that horrified him.

This person...was human.

He hadn't even begun to find his voice when...she...spoke.

--At the sight of you, my heart leaps, Ido Daisuke!   Time much has passed since 
last we--

Ido fainted.  

I guess I'd do the same if a ghost from my past returned, the real Alita thought 
as she stood in open doorway, one heel parked up against the jamb.

ÒAh....Asrial?Ò, she said to the figure who bent to revive Ido.

ÒHmm?Ò

ÒHeh.  I see you need to...er...ah, change...Ò, she chuckled.

Asrial hmphd.

ÒLet me run over to my place...I'll be back soon.  You think he'll be...Ò

Asrial looked at Ido's form before her.  ÒHe'll be fine, I'm sure, Alita...don't 
worry.  Take your time, my friend...he and I have a LOT to get caught up on...Ò

Alita excused herself, leaving Ido and Asrial alone...they would be up late, she 
figured.  In the meantime, she had some catching up of her own to do.

As she walked down the corridor of IdoÕs lab, she mulled to herself the events 
of the last several days.  She had left seeking fulfillment, and she had 
returned with a friend.  

And Ido had been given another chance to close a circle he had begun so long 
ago.

Even trade, I guess.

She slammed the door to the street shut behind her.  It was an exceptionally 
clear day, this one, and Alita smiled as she began to walk down the crowded 
street, with no particular destination in mind.


An old man...turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery...and died the next day.
It's a black fly in your Chardonnay
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late

And isn't it ironic?

It's like rain...on your wedding day
It's like a free ride...when you've already paid.
Its the good advice...you just didn't take.
And who would have thought?

It figures...



Fin.

The Author would like to thank the many who assisted and persisted in bringing 
this work into reality, especially:
Kristopher Wilson
Scott Sandwick
ÒRed SonjaÒ
Duane Rowland
Cynde Callera

and last, but far from least,

Daniel Snyder

who, literally, without whose help this story would have never been told.  
Thanks, Odd-- and Fiona, too!--for filling in when my hand cramped and my mind 
knotted...

To give credit where credit is due, I need to cite my sources of musical 
inspiration.

Sammy Hagar, ÒGive to LiveÒ, I Never Said Goodbye,  © 1987 Geffen Records

Alanis Morissette, ÒHand in My PocketÒ & ÒIronicÒ, Jagged Little Pill,  © 1995 
Maverick/Reprise

Tool, ÒSoberÒ , Undertow, © 1993 BMG Music

And, as always, the best is yet to come!

Like what you read here?   Make sure you hit ÒSeraphim of the ScrapyardÒ ...

http://death.berkeley.edu/~snydder/seraph/seraph.html

...and read where I drew inspiration from.  Comments on my work and GUNNM in 
general are always  welcome...mail me at:  

mark_engels@rocketmail.com.

Or, if you like, just stop by  the New Kansas Chat Room !
(http://www.tama.or.jp/~ryup/cgi-bin/g-chat2.cgi)

...and be looking for the guy with the beer (SNIK!)  (^.^)

C YA @ NU KS !!!  (^.^) .|/

© 1997 Mark Engels.  Permission granted to distribute in any digital/binary/e-
mail form; however, any physical printing is prohibited.  Based on characters 
created by Yukito Kishiro in GUNNM.  Translations by Fred Burke and Toshifumi 
Yoshida, published as BATTLE ANGEL
ALITA from Viz Comics.  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely 
coincidental.  Lyrics are copyright of their various artists.  My thanks to all 
them for sharing their inspiration with me...

"There's nothing in this world of value...nothing worth risking our lives 
for...except, perhaps, what little we can create ourselves...Ò  - Daisuke Ido