The party inside "The Wonderful Place" had barely begun, but already it 
was earning its reputation as the wildest venue in the area. Bright purple and 
yellow lights were tracing lissajous forms through the windows out onto the 
crowded street below. The chaotic rumble emerging from the speaker system 
was frantic and festive, enticing even the most self-conscious of the folk about to 
writhe and gyrate under its beat. Ethanol was flowing, voices were laughing; 
"The Wonderful Place" did justice to the moment, allowing its patrons to forget 
their problems, for a time.
	Fisk Frenner was well aware of his problem as he managed to pull himself 
away from the scene. After 47 years in wetware and another, well, almost 15 in a 
cyborg shell, he was old. Sure, he could dance, even some of the steps of the day; 
and he was comfortable enough to afford a decent-looking body, one worth 
maintaining appearances in. But he had noticed it first a few years ago, and was 
well-aware by now, that he didn't think like the kids today. What they spoke of 
in loud voices--jealousy, ambition, even injustice--Frenner was, as often as not, 
likely to ignore. Whenever he offered advice, kids didn't have the patience to 
listen, and he didn't know how to make them see his way. All his friends were 
within about a decade of his own age, and they all talked in the same voice of the 
same things--things that kids thought trivial. Kids. He'd been calling them that 
for some time now, and never before with such derision. Deep down, he knew it 
was envy.
	Well, Frenner thought, best to get it behind me. Dwelling on it won't 
change things. So, with determination in his mind, he turned his back on the club 
and made his way off towards home.
	He hadn't gone more than halfway up the first catwalk on his usual route 
when a voice called out, "Sir?"
	Frenner turned. There were two young men standing off to the side of 
the catwalk, one holding a bottle of oil, one a chamois cloth. They were dressed 
in working clothes, and had fume masks on--ideally suited for work with 
chemicals. "We'll change your oil for you. Top grade silicon oil, with Teflon."
	"And we'll throw in a body wax for free."
	For that strange reason that all sales rely on, Frenner found himself 
enticed by the appeal. There was always the chance it would make him feel 
better, and there were no duties keeping him. "Hmm, that might be just what I 
need today. How much?"
	"Three hundred chips, sir. It's a good deal."
	"All right then, I'll take you up on it."
	"Yes sir! Absolutely!"
	"This way, please, sir."
	The kids seemed so eager to please. Frenner chuckled to himself as he 
seated himself on the stool they had provided, watching them scurry about with 
their tools. A moment later he felt the caress of the chamois against his lower 
arm. The kid clearly knew what he was doing. Frenner let out a satisfied sigh, 
and half turned to the fellow behind him. "You know, my shoulders have been 
really squeaking recently. Terrible..."
	"Ah, yes--well, you're low on oil, that's all. I'll be sure and add a drop 
more." Frenner felt the tip of the oil bottle stick him between the shoulders. The 
young man with the chamois drew back to add a little more wax to the cloth. 
"Now, I'll do this very carefully," came the voice from behind him.
	A moment later a burst of electricity rent his nervous system. For an 
agonizing moment, Fisk Frenner felt every single nerve in his body, be it his 
own or the cybernetics'. Then, mercifully, pain erupted in his head and he passed 
out.
	As he struggled to come around, he became aware that his body was 
immobile below the neck; but such was the state of his mind that he didn't 
appreciate what it meant, and instead attempted a frantic twitching on the 
ground. His eyes grew used to the dark of wherever he was, and he now saw a 
light reflected on the blade of an ax, shining directly into his eyes. He heard a 
tenor chuckle from whoever was holding it.
	"You're awake already."
	"Wh-what are you,,,?"
	"Sorry, man." The ax flashed a goodbye as it was lifted up out of Frenner's 
field of vision. "But, at least we don't want your life." There was an abrupt, 
sickening 'thunk' as the blade fell into the cyborg's neck.

	Less than a minute later, the boy at the alley's edge rose and turned to 
greet his partner, coming out of the shadow.
	"Well?"
	"No sweat." The entrant to the scene held up a glass canister, about one 
meter long, with a sealed top. Inside the canister was a light blue liquid. Inside 
the liquid floated a human spine. "This'll get fifty grand at least." From back 
behind the pair came an odd scraping sound, indicating the revival of their 
victim. Neither of the two was terribly perturbed; experience had taught them 
that it's hard to move around without a backbone. "C'mon, let's scram." The pair 
ran off, side by side, away from the bright lights and scenes of human activity.

	"Kybernetik Reparaturwerkstatte, this is Dr. Ido."
	"There's a person dying in an alleyway in Block 26. Save him!"
	*Click.*
	"Oh, for the love of the Heavens, not _another_ one."

	The young man emerged from the phone booth to join his companion 
and their plunder. "You know, it feels so good to have saved someone's life!"
	"What are you babbling about?"
	Hugo pulled down his mask and repeated his observation. He and his 
partner Danji enjoyed a laugh, then fled.

	It was late that next afternoon. The sun lay low on the horizon, spreading 
a little more warmth and light, and with it reassurance, to the denizens of the 
Scrapyard. Before long, his twin the Moon would take her turn, providing a 
blighted hope to those lost in the sward of the night. Their change was still an 
hour or two distant, and the multitude still labored, hoping that they might fulfill 
their responsibility, their obligation, or what they blindly believed they had to do 
to define themselves, before another day slipped into the ether.
	Down in the Scrapyard, sweating under the waning heat, Hugo 
maintained three points of balance on the ladder leading to the windmill and its 
turbine. With a socket wrench in one hand and three screws in his mouth, he 
labored to remove a fourth from its housing. It was a clean, steady rhythm he 
maintained in his work, and in only a few seconds he was scooping out the last 
screw.
	Alita looked up at him from the roof's edge, a smile on her face. "Hugo, I 
had no idea you came to tune up our windmill every month!"
	"Yeah, well, it's a job." He flipped open the back of the turbine, placed the 
four screws to one side out of harm's way, then abruptly stopped. For some 
reason he felt himself becoming dizzy, and he paused a moment. He took in a 
few deep breaths, and half turned toward the girl. "So, are you living here at the 
doctor's place?"
	"Yep!"
	"Good deal." Refreshed, he reached inside and set to work on the machine. 
"As for me...I've got to save up a whole lot of money! Then I'm going to Zalem!" 
He went on, talking about some sort of fellow he knew, but Alita wasn't listing. 
She was watching the wind blowing through his hair, and the way the golden 
light made his eyes almost pure gray and white. She found her thoughts refusing 
to stay focused, tripping from image to feeling to hope. Alita was envious of 
him, but she admired him, too. "If only...if only I could share his world!" she 
thought.
	Down below her feet, out of the highest window in their apartment, 
Gonzu let out a deep chuckle. He took a swig from his bottle and leaned back 
inside. "Well, Ido...it looks like spring has come for Alita, hasn't it?"
	Ido turned his attention from the auxiliary life support system he was 
attaching to his patient, and looked somewhat reproachfully at his companion. 
"It isn't nice to eavesdrop, Gonzu." He turned back to Mr. Frenner and plugged 
in the cerebrostatic chemical [2] drip.
	"Eavesdrop? Me?" Gonzu let out another chuckle. "I'm just...admiring 
spring, that's all. You know, Alita has seemed so...um..."
	"Sparkling?"
	"That's just it! She's seemed so sparkling recently. And if this is the reason, 
well--I think that's great."
	"Indeed. But you know, Gonzu...I worry."
	"Not jealous, are you?"
	"Oh, you can't be serious!" Ido turned his attention to a biofeedback 
computer. "I'm all in favor of whatever brings Alita happiness--love, hunting, 
anything! But still..."
	"It's more parental concern, huh?"
	"Yes, I suppose that would be closer to it." Ido straightened from his 
labors, smiled at the satisfying "beep" from the computer, and went to clean 
himself up. "Alita has tremendous potential. But potential can be used for good 
or evil...and I'm afraid she could get hurt."
	Frenner cleared his throat. "Um, Doc...will I be operable soon?"
	Ido took a seat in front of his patient, wiping his hands on a towel. "Well, 
since you ask, it's going to have to be a while. Spinal columns are scarce these 
days, I haven't located one in your size..."
	"Damn those punks!" Frenner snarled. His head thrashed about on its 
tripod, doing little in the way of revenge but managing to vent some of his 
frustration. "That must be why they stole my backbone--!"
	Gonzu had another pull on his beer. "Spinal column theft, eh? It's the 
trend these days, isn't it?" 
	Ido nodded in agreement. "Black market demand is up for all illegal parts, 
and the factory doesn't keep a close eye on the private sale of cyborg parts. 
Seems like everyone's cashing in."
	"So what'll I _do_?" wailed Frenner's head.
	"Well, Mr. Frenner, I've contacted the Factory, so you won't be in trouble 
at your job...and you've got insurance on your body, so the repair is covered. 
Room and board is free, so my advice would be just to relax until we get that 
column." Ido stood, a reassuring smile on his face. "OK?"
	"...F-fine. Thank you, Doctor."
	The conversation was interrupted as the lights in the room brightened, 
and some of the building's machinery whirred back to life. "Hm, the backup 
power's off," Gonzu observed. "I guess those two--?" His thought was cut off by 
a series of footfalls on the ladder outside the room, and a moment later Hugo 
was standing in the doorway. "Your power generator's all set, Doc Ido!" he said.
	"Great, Hugo! Hey, do you have time for some tea or something before 
you go?"
	"Well, actually...I was wondering if I could get some advice from you." He 
looked a bit self-conscious. It wasn't the fact that he was holding up a 
conversation in the presence of a man he had savagely attacked the night before, 
it was only that he didn't feel it was quite polite to be consulting a business client. 
"Could you take a look at this thing on my chest for me?"
	"Sure, sure." Ido turned to his patient. "Mr. Frenner, if you need anything 
else, just ask Gonzu here. He's a little rusty, but he's a qualified cyberdoctor."
	"Y-yeah." As the two walked out of the room, Frenner turned as best he 
could to Gonzu. "Could you check my audial circuitry?"
	"Oh, I s'pose I can. What's the matter? Dizzy?"
	"No, I think I'm hearing things." Was that the voice of the punk who 
attacked me?

	"All right, Hugo, turn towards the light." Hugo shut his eyes tightly and 
turned on the stool as Ido took a close look at the mark on his chest. It was a 
single irregular blister, perhaps four centimeters across. It was a ruddy red, but it 
was otherwise unremarkable. "Does it itch?"
	"No, not really. It kind of hurt earlier, but it's stopped."
	"I see...Now, you say you were wearing a pendant with some kind of 
stone on it last night?"
	"Yeah, from when Alita and I met in that old factory, did she tell you?" Ido 
shook his head. He stood up from his examination and walked over to the 
instant camera as the photo began to develop. "I mean, it didn't dig into my chest 
or anything."
	"Do you know what kind of metals you used to make the setting?" Ido 
moved to turn off the light.
	Hugo opened his eyes.  "The what?"
	"Where the stone was held."
	"Oh, some silver wire."
	"Hm...and you said the stone fell off?"
	"Or something, I couldn't find it this morning..." Hugo drifted off, his mind 
wandering on something he couldn't quite picture, merely a feeling. "Hey, Doc, 
could you open the window? I'm kind of dizzy."
	"Certainly." Ido pushed open the pane of glass, pausing for a moment to 
stare out into the Scrapyard. An idea was beginning to form in his head. "I don't 
suppose you brought the rest of the pendant with you?"
	"Yeah, I did." Hugo fished into his pocket, and pulled out a silver-plated 
chain with a twist of wire on one end. "I figured, maybe I'd see another stone in a 
shop on my way over. I didn't want to waste the wire."
	Ido lifted the wire up to the light. Silver, he knew, is a relatively unreactive 
metal, so it was probably something else..."Hugo, if you do find that stone, bring 
it in to me. I think you might have an allergic reaction to something in it."
	"What?"
	"Well, some people can be allergic to metals. Many gems have small 
quantities of metals in them. I'll have a better idea of what your problem is if I 
know what kind of gem you found. In the meantime," he continued, sitting 
down in front of the boy, "just put a little calamine lotion on it if it starts to hurt 
again. And try and eat better, you look like you could stand a few good-sized 
meals in your stomach." He returned the chain.
	"Sure thing Doc." Hugo began to put on his shirt.
	"You have my number, for when you find that stone."
	"Yeah. But Alita could probably tell you as much as I could about it until 
then." He turned and faced her as he tied on his bandanna. "Right, Alita?"
	"Wha...?" Alita said. She was standing in the doorway, her back discreetly 
turned, but she moved inside at the mention of her name. "Oh, well, I guess so...I 
mean, I could try, there isn't THAT much to say..." She was so flustered she 
almost tripped over a chair. At the last moment, she flopped down into it 
instead.
	"All right, then. Listen, I've got to be going. I work nights, too." He shook 
hands with Dr. Ido, and waved a goodbye to Alita. "I'll see you around, OK?"
	"S-sure." Alita managed a wave back, and watched numbly as Hugo 
walked out the door. As soon as it had closed, she hung her head on her arms 
and let out a moan.
	Oh, by the Heavens above, thought Ido, I should have been prepared for 
this. He walked over to her and pulled up a chair at her side. "It's Hugo, isn't it?"
	"Oh, Ido!" Alita wailed. "I--he--well--" She let out another moan, then 
managed to say, "...do you think Hugo could fall in love with me, even though 
I'm a cyborg?"
	"Of course!" Ido said, without a moment's hesitation. "That's nothing to be 
worried about!"
	"That's right!" continued Gonzu, from the doorway. "In this town, being a 
cyborg is taken for granted!"
	Alita didn't feel any better, for some reason.

	Hugo emerged onto the street below the apartment building, lost in his 
own thoughts. He felt that the dizzy spells were getting worse, and noticed some 
awful kind of a taste was forming in the back of his mouth. He wondered if 
maybe Dr. Ido had made a misdiagnosis, and that it was the anchovies that he 
had eaten for lunch. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud whisper off to his 
right.
	"Yo, kid. Over here."
	It was a cyborg seated on a _very_ conveniently knocked-over garbage 
can. His face was pale and angular, with a sharp nose in its center. He had a 
shock of scraggly yellow hair on his scalp and a strange kind of a cross tattooed 
on his forehead. His clothing was dirty and ill-chosen, giving him the overall 
appearance of a vulture or an obscene jester.
	"Yeah--" Hugo's mind darted to the tazerpick in his pants pocket. "What's 
up, mister?"
	"That girl's bad news man, forget her. Her last boyfriend came home in a 
bucket. She blew up a tank of hydrogen underneath him."
	"What the fuck are you going on about?" Hugo was feeling rather 
confused, and his sense of balance was starting to leave again. "I'm _trying_ to 
do my job!" He started to scamper off, but had to stagger for a few moments 
before he regained control of himself. Zapan forced himself to chuckle as he 
watched the youth's departure, then resumed a more sobering train of thought. 
He looked up into the sky, where he imagined the girl to be now, and spoke:
	"Alita...I haven't forgotten the humiliation you put me through back at 
'Kansas'. I'm a vindictive man. I'm not ashamed of it at all. I vow...to make you 
cry...to taste your tears." He stood up from his ersatz throne, his face blank. "In 
time." He made his departure, hands deep in his pockets, mind in a whirlwind.

	"Hello, Mr. Vector?"
	"This is he...Hugo, is that you?"
	"Yeah. I-I'm not going to be able to work tonight."
	Hugo was sitting alone in his room, as alone as he had been every night 
since his brother's death. The walls of the shanty he now lived in were painted, 
but the different layers had peeled so much that it was impossible to tell which 
color was most recent. Clothes, trash, and a token few personal goods all vied 
for space on the dirty floor. Hugo lay on the limpest of mattresses, buttressed by 
a number of cheap cushions, holding his head in his hand.
	"You sound terrible. What's the matter?"
	"I went to the doctor, and he said it was some kind of metal 
poisoning...but I think it's maybe food poisoning also, or something."
	"That's bad. Do you want me to tell your day boss not to expect you 
tomorrow?"
	"Uh..." Hugo hesitated. For a moment, it seemed as though his pride, not 
his health, was on the line.
	"Listen, Hugo. You're the hardest-working guy I know, bar none. If 
you're not able to work, you shouldn't push it. Stay at home, try and get some 
rest. I mean," Vector started to laugh, " I've known you--about three years now, 
isn't it?--and you've never even taken a day off.  You've got plenty of comp 
time. Take a break for once, for as long as you need."
	"Well..." The young man tasted bile in his throat, as if his own body was 
threatening his mind. "OK, Mr. Vector."
	"Now, try and relax tonight, Hugo. I'll tell Tanji not to expect you. He can 
work with Danji and Van."
	"Thanks. And tell everyone I said hi."
	A moment later Hugo lurched foreword and hung up the phone. The 
effort was greater on his psyche than he had prepared for, and he found himself 
almost nauseated. He struggled to regain his composure; the walls were starting 
to lose their strict symmetry, and gravity was no longer his ally. By pressing his 
back up against the wall to give himself a focus, Hugo managed to slip down 
onto his bed. True sleep was not fast in coming, and his dreams were of a restless 
and unpleasant nature.

	"Good evening, Dr. Chiren's office."
	"Dr. Chiren? Hello, I'm Doctor Kalyami." The man speaking to her over 
the phone leaned back in his chair and glanced towards the note card in his hand. 
"I believe we met about two years ago, through the Scrapyard Literary 
Collective [3]?"
	"Hm...I do remember the 'SLC', as it was called, though I don't recall you 
per se...is there something that I can assist you with, sir?"
	"Yes, there is. It's a patient of mine." The man rose from his seat and 
walked over to where Dr. Ido was seated, and took a small photograph from 
him. "Now, I know that you specialize in cyborgs, doctor, but I hoped you could 
help me identify a skin rash. Everyone talks about your talents, I was hoping 
you could at least take a look at this picture I have of his chest."
	"Well, I suppose I could try." Dr. Kalyami nodded, put his hand over the 
receiver, and whispered "It worked!" across the room. Ido smiled a rather pitying 
smile. "You do not have the patient with you at the moment?"
	"No, I'll send you a fax of the picture I took. I'm sending now..." A 
moment later Dr. Kalyami went on. "Now, if that photo's enough for you, that's 
good. I suppose I could also get some blood and tissue..."
	"This-this patient of yours," Dr. Chiren interrupted, "is a cyborg? Or is he 
all wetware?"
	"Oh, he doesn't have any cybernetics. No, he doesn't," said Kalyami, 
responding to Ido's head-shaking. "Why? Do you have an idea of what it is?"
	"A vague one. I can tell you what I will do..." Chiren trailed off, then 
murmured something under her breath. The sounds of papers being rifled could 
be heard in the background. Kalyami waited in expectation, holding up his hand 
to stifle Ido. After about a minute and a half Chiren returned to the phone. 
"Hello? Yes, let me give you the electronic mail address for a former 
acquaintance of mine, he might be able to give you some help." Kalyami took a 
pen off his desk and jotted something down on one of the note cards. He read it 
back, offered a thank you, then hung up.
	Ido walked over and joined his colleague. "Thank you for calling her, 
we've never been on good professional terms. What did she say?"
	"She might have had some idea of what it is, but she didn't say. She's got 
an e-mail address for some professor she used to know." Kalyami offered Ido 
the card. "She sounded kind of hesitant to give it out, must be a private server or 
something."
	"What kind of an address is this?" Ido wondered aloud. The card read 
'dnova@voxdei.org'.

	Alita picked her way through a neighborhood unfamiliar to her. This part 
of the Scrapyard, out on the very edge, didn't have a good reputation. She 
wasn't worried about her own safety, but it would be inconvenient if she had to 
fight off anyone on her way to meet Hugo. She had seen an address on Hugo's 
tool box, and now hoped that it wasn't the address of the factory. She wandered 
down avenue and alleyway, dimly conscious of the world around her waking 
from stillness, gaining inertia to start another day. Stillness, naturally, is a relative 
term. It would be difficult to blot out the drone of cranes in the scrap, laboring 
night and day alike, turning over the cast-offs of the City in the Clouds for a 
reason that even their operators had never been told of. The noise was enough 
to effectively cover the footfalls that followed in the girl's path.
	At last, Alita found a promising cul-de-sac off of a one-way street. She 
turned her steps and began walking along the left-hand side, trying to see the 
numbers on the hovels. "388, 342...that must be him at the end of the block," she 
murmured. She began to walk towards a large, cylindrical building that looked 
for all the world like an abandoned water tank, intent on finding a place to 
wait..."he had said he worked nights"...Abruptly, she stumbled over something 
lying in the street.
	A head peered up from its torso and looked about for a moment. "What 
was that?"
	Its companion head leaned up also. "What's going on?"
	"Someone kicked us!"
	"What nerve!" The two heads glanced about on their necks as their torso's 
arms pushed them into a leaning position. Embarrassed, Alita presented herself 
to them after a moment.
	"Oh, a girl! You must be here for Hugo then?"
	"Y-yes."
	"He's in. Didn't work last night."
	"I think he's ill."
	"You might go see if he's up."
	Alita thanked the two for their advice. She walked up the steps to the 
building and pressed her ear to the door. Sure enough, she could hear the 
rustling of sheets , punctuated by a few quiet groans. Alita's heart rose into her 
throat--Hugo was clearly in need of attention, but what kind? Would he 
appreciate it? Should she knock? She vacillated, and she stepped away from the 
door to contemplate her next move.
	Any plans she might have had were forgotten as the door flew open and 
Hugo staggered out. Oblivious to the presence of another person on his 
doorstep, he gazed blankly around him for a moment, then dropped to his 
knees and vomited. Exhausted by the effort, he slumped backwards up against 
Alita's legs, vaguely aware that her hands were wiping some fluid off his face.
	"A-Alita...is that you?"
	"Yes. Hold still for a moment." She deftly lifted him over her shoulder and 
carried him inside, allowing the door to slam shut behind them. The force of the 
sound made Hugo cringe. Alita took extra care as she brought him down, first 
cradling his body in her arms then letting him roll onto his cushions. Even with 
this tenderness, his head rolled into his cushions and he let out a moan.
	"Ow...my head...hurts."
	"I'm sorry, Hugo."
	"Don't worry...what time is it? Seven?" He looked curiously up at Alita. 
"What are you doing up at this hour? Why are you over here anyway?"
	"Um...well, I...Ido and I...were worried about you. We wondered how 
you'd be feeling this morning." She sat down beside him on the bed. It sagged. 
"Ido told me he's going to talk to a specialist today, and then we're going to 
know just what to do for you. OK?"
	"...I don't know what to say. I can't thank you two enough."
	Alita blushed a little. "How are you feeling?"
	"Not great. I...I honestly couldn't tell you if I slept last night." Hugo was 
truly a picture of misery. His eyes were bloodshot and bleary, accented by the 
clamminess of his skin. His hair was matted with his own saliva. He clearly had 
slept in the clothes he had gone to bed in the night before, and he was beginning 
to smell a bit.
	"Well, we'll get you to the doctor's office somehow. Here." She handed 
him a glass of water from the cooler by his bed. He took it in both hands and 
began to drink slowly, taking long gulps. Even as Alita watched, his spirit 
seemed to be rising.
	He finished the last few drops of the glass and handed it back to her. 
"Thanks...could I have another one?" Alita smiled, and turned for a moment to 
refill the cup. Hugo leaned back on his pillows and stared at the ceiling. It seemed 
miles above his head. The paint was less peeled there than on the other walls, 
and he could count the irregular bumps of its surface, almost. He felt as though, 
if he looked at it for long enough, he could begin to understand what was wrong 
with the world. "Alita...do you have a dream?"
	Alita chose not to tell Hugo about one particular dream she had that 
involved the two of them, and Hugo went on. "I told you my dream. It's to go to 
Zalem, nothing less. My brother wanted to go to Zalem, too...but a hunter-
warrior killed him." He said the last clause with such bitterness that Alita drew 
back in shock. Hugo looked up at her and went on. "It's like everything I do, it's 
because Zalem says so...I live here because Zalem lets me. I can pay the rent, or 
buy food, because I have a job...a job Zalem lets me have. If I try to run away, 
bounty hunters--recruited by Zalem--will kill me. Isn't there anything more than 
this?
	"You see, Alita...I don't want to go to Zalem for the luxury. What matters 
is...that I go there at all. The sky is just such a far away place, I'll be able to see 
whole new views. Maybe, just maybe, if I can get on Zalem's side--if I don't have 
to be down here taking orders, just be alongside the people who give them--I 
can beat the Scrapyard."
	Something about this seemed both appealing and unnerving to Alita. She 
tried to coax him on. "What do you mean, 'beat the Scrapyard'?"
	"Oh, you don't understand. The Scrapyard has taken everything that was 
important to me--my brother, my childhood. Yeah, my childhood. For years I 
ran around on the streets, doing nothing but vandalizing stuff just because I 
couldn't get back at the Scrapyard any other way. But now, I've got another 
way. If I can't beat the Scrapyard--show that I'm better than all the scrap out 
there..." he waved his arms, indicating the world around him; but the effort had 
been too much, and he collapsed back onto his bed with a groan.
	He saw Alita leaning over him, offering him more water; but she seemed 
very far away, and getting farther all the time. Then Hugo realized she was 
staying still, so still that the Earth was turning underneath her, and he was being 
dragged away from her with it. He tried to reach out to her, but his arm began 
to wither into fungus and disintegrate into the atmosphere. Alita was looking at 
him with a slightly confused expression. He tried to scream a warning, but his 
mouth was fusing closed; he could feel his tongue being absorbed into his palate. 
A ringing in his ears began. The planet was beginning to spin out of control. 
Hands reached down from on high and tore him from its surface. The mush that 
had been his arms groped for a holdfast, even as he was flung into the cold 
uncaring cosmos.
	"I-I..."
	The stars were dancing around him, yes, dancing, for the ringing in his 
ears was now establishing a single timbre and volume. As Hugo saw them--his 
eyes were wide, so very wide open--they bowed before him, writhed before 
him, cried to know the taste of his strength. Then they scattered, and Hugo was 
alone in a nullity that only his being defined.
	"I...aah!...I've..."
	The ringing, that symphony played by pressure run beyond its righteous 
borders, hammered into his consciousness. In madness he reached for it, fearing 
that in a moment there would be nothing at all, and that the nature of his 
insanity would be lighter than absolute death. Innocent of its nature and blind to 
its consequences he exalted in the ringing, taking its beating on as his own. 
Whirling, cavorting, tripping, a cyclone in heat, he was destroyer and destroyed 
as he sought to bind with the nuclear matter of the sound's energy.
	Even as he writhed, the sound began to permutate. Two hundred idiot 
monks began polyphony, chanting thirteen beats in devotion. Hugo changed 
with the rhythm, finding himself assuming a consciousness again--daring to look 
upon the face of their god. It came as a nothing, a great all-color void...then, 
power, cousin to electricity and fusion...two eyes...a central nervous system, red 
with blood or heat or contamination...the boy was so young...
	"Hugo, what is it?"
	She addressed a demigod.
	"I...I...I've got AKIRA!"