"Please, take Arla and Alise in as your own," pleaded Blair, as she clung to Erin's knees. "I know they'll pass the exam. They won't bring any question on you or Lindsay. Please, you know I can't take them in myself. My mutations are already obvious."

Erin, clutching her stomach, looked down with pity. Partially hidden by her bedraggled hair, the growths over Blair's eyes were grotesque. The webs between her fingers seemed like those of a monster.

"How can you forget that I was the one who protected your daughter when you were quarantined after your husband died. I nursed her during that time and even afterwards when your milk had dried up from your abuse in quarantine. Please," Blair's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, "I gave your child her life. I've sheltered and cared for her as my own. Please give my children the same chance I gave yours. The domes will be sealed in less than a month and you know I'll be denied entry. Even if I could manage to sneak in, my children would be exterminated along with me if we were caught. How long do you think we could hide? If you don't take them when you register, you are condemning my children to death."

Tears welled in Erin's eyes as she looked down at the woman who had become more than a friend. Blair had willingly put her own infant at risk to save Lindsay. Erin, like many mothers, had lost her son because he became allergic to the synthesized formulas. Erin couldn't have lived through the death of her second child. Blair had been a savior.

"Next," called the entry official in a tired voice. Erin shuffled two toddlers forward with one hand while pushing a carriage with two sleeping infants. "Papers," demanded the woman as she held out her hand absent-mindedly while looking at the monitor in front of her. Erin hesitantly placed the red folder containing her future in the woman's hand and sat on the chair in front of the desk. She quietly gathered the toddlers to her side as she gently rocked the carriage. Erin couldn't bear to look at the woman for fear that she would be found out; knowing for certain she and her own children would be denied admittance if the woman discovered the truth about her three extra children. "Let me see here. I see that you are missing two birth certificates and your application states that you requested admittance for two adults and only one child. Can you explain why the proper applicants are not present and why you have three extra children with you?" The woman gave Erin an annoyed look over top of her half glasses.

Erin took a deep breath to gather her courage and remember her speech, hoping it didn't sound too practiced. "I haven't received the official birth certificates for my twin daughters yet. As you know, we may not apply for them until the children are six months old and then the applications can take up to nine months to be returned. The girls are just a year old this month. My son's birth certificate was lost in a fire and I have applied for a new one. A copy of that application is in there instead. It's taking especially long because hospital records were destroyed in the same fire. Lindsay's birth certificate is there. As for the problem with my application, when I filed my admittance application they wouldn't allow me to list my son without his new birth certificate. They said it could be dealt with at the in-processing center. In regard to the twins, I submitted my application eighteen months in advance as required in my district, which was before I became pregnant. Finally, the second adult was my husband, but he died eleven months ago of radiation sickness." Erin drew a nervous breath hoping her explanation would work.

"Where is your certificate of quarantine and your certificate of clearance?" the woman demanded hastily as she started leafing through the pack of papers.

"They're in the other side of the folder with all the children's medical clearances," Erin replied pointing to the side the woman was not leafing through and becoming even more nervous.

"Ah yes, here they are." The woman continued to review and account for pieces of paper and then suddenly stacked them all neatly, tucked them back in the folder and looked up at Erin as she folded her gnarled hands on the closed folder. "You should've filed an amended request for admittance with all these irregularities. I'm sorry but I'll have to send you back through processing. Hopefully there will still be time to approve your application. Here are your papers. Please go to room 111 to file your updated admittance request," finished the woman matter-of-factly as she handed Erin the folder.

Erin erupted from her seat, knocking the toddlers to the floor, as she grabbed the red folder. "Please don't do this to us. You know we can never make the deadline for the closing of the domes if you send us back through processing. Please, please don't you have children of your own?" Erin plucked the whimpering toddlers from the floor and gathered them on the edge of the woman's desk while still trying to keep her attention. She recognized the moment of remorse she'd hoped for flood the woman's face.

"My child died two years ago of radiation sickness and malnutrition," whispered the woman. "My milk never came in and he couldn't keep any formula down." Erin saw the distant look on the woman's face and knew she had struck a nerve. Carefully she whispered as she wrapped her arms around the toddlers between them.

"Please, ma'am, help give my children a future. If we're left on the outside, my children will die a horrible death, too. Please, for the memory of your son, help me. Please?" Erin held the woman's gaze for a moment longer as she saw tears well up in the woman's eyes. Erin dropped her face on to the toddlers' heads and closed her eyes; afraid she had lost everything. Pleas and bribes were racing through Erin's mind when she realized the woman was typing on her keyboard.

"I've entered a correct application for you and your children. I doubt when all is said and done if the paperwork will ever be double-checked. And even if it is, papers get lost more easily than main system files." The woman looked at Erin with a sad smile. "Here are your entrance cards. You may proceed down that hall over there and please, take good care of them."

"Thank you so much. I'll never forget you. I'll always be grateful," finished Erin as she scooped up the toddlers and hustled the carriage down the indicated hall.

Blair refused to go to the domes the day they were sealed. She knew there would be hundreds of people begging to get into the domes and that they would turn violent with anger and desperation. The authorities wouldn't hesitate to use deadly force, since they considered everyone left outside dead anyway. It was a bittersweet day for Blair since her children had safely entered a week ago and the closing meant she'd never see them again. But she refused to dwell on the negative. She had given her children a chance and now she must make one for herself.

Blair had never quite believed in her heart what the authorities were saying about the lethal level of the environment. True, there were increasing numbers of deaths, and unusual mutations, but some of the research data she had been working with just didn't seem to add up. But of course, she couldn't be sure since all the data from her lab was periodically collected for "higher analysis", or so they said, making any conclusions difficult and impossible to verify; but that didn't matter now. Blair believed she could organize a community that could survive and she was ready to initiate her plan. She had carefully packed her bike wagon that she would pull herself. Her electric car was a luxury they couldn't afford. Everything she'd need to establish the new pod would have to fit into wagons and carts. They would be like the earliest pioneers venturing into the wilderness with only a few comforts for the home they hoped to create.

The urban span was a thorough pile of rubble from the quakes of 2120 and the firestorms and civil unrest that followed. Constant scavenging of the rubble and its residence rapidly dwindled any remaining resources. Rising levels of toxicity from solar radiation and chemical pollution were causing a frightening increase in the death rate. The rising domes, with their lethal electromagnetic shielding, and the threat of savage scab gangs made an easy decision of moving to the wilds. Not that establishing a pod and living in the nearly barren wilds would be easy, but it would certainly offer more hope. Their last bit of technology would be a one-year supply of compact, high nutrition food to sustain them until other food sources could be developed. Minimal clothing, minimal amenities to establish housekeeping such as cooking needs and bedding, and a few personal items, were all they could afford to take with them.

No one was at the meeting place when Blair arrived, but she carefully pulled her wagon to the side, content to wait. She wasn't naive enough to believe that everyone she had spoken to would be willing to come but she knew there were enough that would choose her option of hope. All the people she had spoken with had exhibited a specific kind of mutation or none at all. This would give them the best chance of genetic survival.

Blair's patience was soon rewarded. A young couple appeared with their tiny share of worldly belongings. Three men soon arrived, followed closely by a group of five young women. Ten minutes later, two more couples arrived; the first was extremely young and carefully carrying a newborn baby along with their meager share of belongings. The second couple was middle aged and carried a sleeping toddler. The last to arrive was a group of four children. The leader of the group, a lanky teenaged boy, attentively escorted a fiery-eyed girl, about ten, who was mothering a little boy and a little girl. They were a motley crew to be sure, but all valuable to the group for who and what they were.

Half an hour later when no one else had arrived, Blair stood and sighed. "Will everyone please gather over here? We need to get acquainted so we can get moving. We have a long way to go." Blair was sure her voice sounded far more confident than she really felt. She waited a moment while everyone settled on the boulders scattered about the area. "I'll start the introductions. I'm Blair Tipton. I used to work in a genetics lab. My husband died nearly 2 years ago from radiation poisoning. My children are.... "she paused and contemplated what to say about her children. 'Do I say they are dead? Do I admit I smuggled them in under false pretenses and risk their lives if ever the truth were known?' Blair considered all this in a matter of seconds. "My three children are gone." Blair managed to whisper as she swallowed hard and wiped her face with her sleeve. 'Let them think what they will.' "You can see why I'm here," she finished as she held up her hands and pushed her hair from her face.

The group members each fidgeted uncomfortably and looked around to see who would go next before one of the first men stood up. "I'm Daniel. My wife and children went to the domes. I couldn't go because I scan with low-level radiation from an operation I had to repair a broken collarbone. The metal pin was contaminated." He sat down, folded his arms tightly to his chest and stared off in the distance.

Two men stood up together. "I'm Aida McGregor..." "...And I'm Ethan McGregor. We're twins, if you haven't already guessed." A soft chuckle whispered its way through the group. "Ethan and I both sent our wives and children into the domes. I think you can see why we weren't permitted in." Both men held up their hands to show the webbing growing between their fingers and then sat down.

The husband of the middle aged looking couple stood and gently helped his wife up by the elbow so as not to disturb their sleeping toddler. "I'm Nicholas Brooks," he said in an unexpectedly soft voice. "This is my wife Maria and our son Walter. You can see for yourselves," as he held up his hand with extensive webbing, "why we didn't get in. My wife refused to leave me even though she and the baby were cleared." He stood a moment more almost expecting someone to impugn him and then sighed heavily and helped guide his wife back onto the rock.

The lanky teenaged boy popped up from his seat near the back of the group and strode forward to stand in front of the group facing them with his hands planted on his hips. "I'm Emrys Freeman. I'm thirteen years old and that's my sister Brittany Freeman, she's five. That's Constance Locke, she's ten and her little brother Jordan is five. We've all been taking care of ourselves for the past two years since our parents was lost in one of the firestorms. We ain't got no mutations, but the 'pigs' wadn't allow us to apply 'cause we couldn't prove our parents was dead. But it dudn't matter, 'cause we can make it better out here where we're free." He nodded his head with finality and without further comment crossed the group of murmuring adults to gather his little group to his side.

The oldest of the group of five women stood and brushed her auburn hair from her face before speaking. "I'm Lynda Kosh and this is Maggie Lord. Both our husbands left us when they saw our mutations start to appear. They both later died from radiation poisoning. This is Kinsey Quelm, Pearce Green, and Caitlyn Graham. Maggie and I bought them away from a scab gang with some fake dome passes about six months ago after the gang had their way with them. Caitlyn, as you may have noticed, has a little more to remember the pukes by. She figures she's due in about three months. We aren't sure because she wouldn't see a doctor. She was afraid the government would try to terminate the baby since she tests positive for genetic mutation." Lynda sat and put her arm around Caitlyn who had started crying softly.

Next to the women sat the last of the group to introduce themselves, two young couples. Both husbands looked at each other before one stood to do the introductions. "Hi, I'm Richard Parks and this is my wife Nancy. She just had our daughter about three days ago. We named her Hope. We were rejected because our whole housing complex was declared a high radiation zone. They never bothered to test us, just automatically denied our application. Joanne and Paul Topsail," Richard continued as he pointed to the couple seated next to him, "were our downstairs neighbors. They had moved in only two days before the government issued its 'ruling', so we asked Miss Tipton if we could bring them with us. None of us have shown any sign of mutations, yet." Richard sat down after he finished speaking.

Blair moved to address the group again. "Thank you. I have invited you because I believe you are all survivors. I believe that if we leave this area, we can make a better life for ourselves. I was a cellular biologist and have seen how we are being mutated. In most cases, it's not as lethal as the government would have you believe. Our manifested mutations have the lowest death rate, only about 20%. The cellular mutation is not nearly as pervasive as you would think." Blair paused as she made a mental note not to mention the other strange phenomenon that accompanied this group's type of mutation. Telling them there was something going on in their brains would unduly alarm them. "My hope is to create an offspring with a 75% better survival rate. Our mutated genes will never go away, but they are recessive. This means that even if you carry a mutant gene, it may not show up in your children. We aren't going just for outward appearance, but trying to avoid future lethal mutations." Blair took a minute to scan the group to see if everyone was understanding and found almost no one. "Look at it this way. I selected almost all of you because of who and what you are. Every one of you has your own genetic material to donate to our new group. With a careful breeding program we can insure the survival of our children." The group broke into an agitated rumble.

Emrys jumped on top of a boulder and stood with his fist raised in the air. "What are we a bunch of lab rats? Where's your portable lab so you can create your race of genetically pure children? I don't think I like what you're talking about, Woman, I'm not going to be part of some experiment."

"No, no, no! You don't understand. We can't change what has or is happening to us right now. Hopefully, as we leave most of the harmful environmental factors behind, we can try to stabilize our genetic community. No, I don't have any lab technology, but it will be very apparent when we get the right and wrong combination of genetic material. I know this all sounds so impersonal, but do we want to create children that we have to watch die before us?" Blair took the moment of silence, while the group looked at each other, and especially at the children and Caitlyn, to carefully consider how to propose what she must suggest next to the group. "I no more want to be part of an experiment than you do. I want you and our children to grow up and live long happy lives and have their own children, but ... what I'm saying is that we must at least agree in principle to creating children that have the best chance for survival. We cannot imagine how hard life will be on our children, much less the women of this group who have to bear the children. Considering we will essentially be living as our ancestors did, we can't even give even odds to survive a pregnancy much less expect all our children to live past age three. And that doesn't even take into account how genetically screwed up we have become." Everyone was silent as Blair paused, holding her breath before she proposed the final insult that must be suggested for survival purposes. "Ideally," Blair began slowly as she watched her fidgeting fingers, "each woman should consider having children with more than one mate." Blair was afraid of the looks she knew were there; seeing any hope for a future evaporating with the morning mist. Everyone in the group erupted into loud conversation at once.

"And what if we refuse?" asked Nicholas standing up to challenge Blair and shouting to be heard above everyone else. The group quickly quieted to hear the loud discussion. "Are you going to keep us out of the group just like the government kept us out of the domes?" Nicholas finished by pointing to the looming dome on the horizon.

"Yeah, and what if we can't have children or they are born muted like us or worse? Are you going to tell us we can't have any more or toss them away like an unwanted piece of trash?" Lynda asked rising to her feet. "Are you going to select our mates? How are we going to tell who the father is if you expect us to run around and sleep with every man like a whore? Who are you going to whore yourself to or are you above this?" Lynda finished taking several steps forward and pointing at Blair. Blair returned the angry gaze with hurt and surprise.

"I don't plan on telling you or making you do anything you don't want to do. I was merely stating that the more children we have by different fathers the better the genetic pool becomes. I'm not even suggesting we take the humanity out of our lives. I'm making you aware that to retain our humanity we must come to grips with a different, and difficult for some of us, set of moral standards. There's a 25% chance that any muted will die an early death, which means at least five of us. When you add in the harsh life we will have to endure in the wilds how long do you think it will be until we have more graves than people to dig them? We must have as many children as we can support and due to out genetic circumstances we should try to have children with the best genetic survival rate. No. I don't have a genetic lab in my wagon. No, I can't check each and everyone of you to determine who would be the best partner for you to produce the best child. So our safest and best method is to vary intimate visits, with the restriction that a woman should not have more than one man in a month. I'm not saying that we all walk around like bitches in heat. We can devise a more civilized way in the future. But the most important thing right now is that you consider it a possibility. We can work out the details later; perhaps extended families could be worked out. The group fell silent. Everyone looked to each other, waiting for someone else to say something. Blair sighed and spoke softly. "I can't and won't tell you how to run your lives. I can tell you what we need to do to survive, but I plan on doing more than just surviving. I plan on making a life for myself, and anyone who chooses to join me. If you want to take that chance, then come. If you can't live with these possibilities ... I wish you well wherever you go."

Blair turned to her wagon of worldly possessions and pulled it into the road. She paused to look back at the group, that still sat looking between each other, and then slowly started walking. Fifteen minutes later, Blair looked over her shoulder. She smiled at the sight of everyone slowly following her like a procession.

"Eleanor! Hold the kid still so I can re-sedate her," shouted the chief medical officer.

"Ow! I'm trying, Tony, but she keeps biting me!"

Tony tossed the hypo on the tray at his side while still battling to control the six-year-old with his other hand. "Grab her legs! Strap 'em down!"

Instantly the moment became surreal as Tony watched Eleanor collapse with a purple lump growing on the side of her eye. As he moved to help her, the flailing child's fist squarely hit Tony in the mouth. The taste of blood in his mouth and the shooting pain in his lower lip instantly snapped Tony's frustration into blind rage. Unaware that his right hand had sprung above his head to form a tense spread weapon, he suddenly saw it plunge into the small girlish face. He felt the fragile nose crush under the palm of his hand; saw the look in her eyes as he dealt her a deathblow. Tony's hand sprang back from the girl's bloodied face, ready to plunge again, when reality hit him like a falling wall. He had killed a child. He had broken his oath and taken a life. Tony's knees weakened and he leaned on the table to remain standing.

"Dear God, what have I done?", he half whispered aloud looking at the girl twitch for the last time. Reaching for the emergency button, he saw his right hand covered with blood. Quickly he wiped it on his pants, reaching instead with his left hand to press the button. A sense of urgency moved Tony around the table to Eleanor's crumpled body. He should attend to the living; he knew there was no hope for the girl. Tony reached over to check Eleanor's carotid pulse, unaware that blood remained on his fingers, he smeared her neck. He sighed in relief. She had a pulse; very weak and irregular, but she was still alive. Tony carefully straightened Eleanor's unconscious body so he could clearly look at the purple lump growing on her temple. Startled by the door bursting open, Tony looked up to see two of his friends come into the room to help.

"Paul, Dave, help me! She won't last much longer. Paul, get the grav-bed so we can get her to surgery." Dave rushed to Tony and Eleanor on the floor. As Paul turned to get the grav-bed from the other side of the room, he spotted the girl on the procedure table.

"What the hell happened in here?" He moved to the girl for a closer look. "My God, Tony, you've killed her." Both of the assistants looked at Tony in disbelief, as Tony's eyes searched both faces for some hint of sympathy. Their appalled declaration of his deed seemed to push a knife deeper into Tony's heart.

"I, ... I, ... I'll explain later," snapped Tony as Eleanor started to twitch in his hands. "She's starting to convulse. The kid kicked her in the temple. We have to get her to surgery," commanded Tony. Shakily, Tony slid his hands under Eleanor's twitching body and lifted her into his arms. Dave moved quickly to help support both Tony and Eleanor. Paul guided the bed between the two men and under Eleanor. He then moved quickly to the intercom near the door and pushed a small red button below the speaker. A woman's voice immediately answered,

"How may I help you?"

"This is Paul Tooks in procedure room two. We need an emergency surgery team, a visual brain scanner and a portable stasis field in O.R.1, STAT. Also send a security team to procedure room two immediately," instructed Paul and then moved to open the door. Tony and Dave quickly pushed the bed out of the room and down the corridor. The emergency surgery team met them outside O.R.1 taking charge of Eleanor. Paul and Dave turned Tony and guided him away from the O.R. by the shoulders. Dazed, Tony willingly followed their direction.

"Let's get you cleaned up. I'll have Dave go in and take care of the girl. He can take her down to the morgue security bay where no one will bother her," Paul consoled. He then turned to Dave and spoke quietly. Both men, evidently agreeing on what was said, started in separate directions. Paul guided Tony to the nearest officer's lounge. "The first order of business is to get the blood off you," said Paul as he directed Tony to a sink. "Here, let me look at your lip. Oh, you're going to need a cold shot and a stitch or two. Any loose teeth?" Tony shook his head no and turned to scrub his hands. "Where's your locker and what's your pass code? I'll go get you a new set of greens and pick up some stuff to take care of that lip."

"It's down in section 3C, number 112, FLIGHT," answered Tony absently.

"I'll be right back. No one will bother you in here." Paul closed the lounge door behind him. Tony scrubbed his hands long after they appeared clean. He took the small nailbrush from the shelf above the sink and meticulously scrubbed under each nail. Finally satisfied, he looked into the mirror. His lower lip was badly split in the middle and very swollen. Blood had started to dry on his chin. He reached for a disposable washcloth and wet it with some warm water and antiseptic soap. Cringing a little at the sting from the soap, Tony paused to look at his face in the mirror. A stranger looked back at him, one who had committed the worst of all atrocities, killing an innocent child. As Tony stared at himself in the mirror, he was suddenly aware of a dark figure leaning against the wall behind him.

"Maybe we shouldn't have reversed your programming. You seem to have such a talent for termination." Tony glowered into the mirror, his seething anger fed by the appearance of the man who had shattered his life for curiosity.

"Go away," Tony hissed through clenched teeth. "Or what? You'll crush my face like you did Lisa's? Tch, tch, tch. That's no way to talk to the man who gave you a second life."

"You don't exist," Tony spat and then chanted under his breath. 'Mary had a little lamb.' "You aren't real." 'Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.' "You're just a remnant, a program fragment." 'The little dog laughed to see such sport.'

"Oh, make no mistake my finely honed tool. I exist and you are far more than I ever hoped for." In less than a breath, Tony turned to strike but found only air. Tony looked back in the mirror to see only himself, poised to kill. As realization overcame him, he stumbled to support himself on the sink, dropped his head and began to sob. Paul called from the door and then quietly appeared behind Tony.

"Come on, we need to finish cleaning you up," said Paul softly. "We'd better take care of that lip before you change into your new greens," firmly grasping Tony's shoulders and turning him toward the lounge.

Paul guided Tony to a chair and then pulled up a second one in front of him. He started to work on Tony's lip while he calculated what to say next. He didn't want to upset Tony any further. The news of Eleanor's death would bring no comfort. The news that officials had started looking into the matter would be even worse. He decided to start by seeming to take Tony's side.

"Here, let me give you this cold shot first. Those misaligned procedure kids can get really rough. Good there aren't too many of them. I had one just the other month that popped up in recovery and started running around. It took us ten minutes to get hold of him. You're never quite sure how long the sedation will hold those kids. You just pray that you can realign them before they go snaky. So, I guess yours popped up at you?" asked Paul cautiously as he finished tending Tony's split lip and gave it a second cold shot.

"Yeah, you could say that." Tony gingerly touched his lower lip. "We were just about ready to realign her when she started kicking and thrashing like a wilds' loon. I didn't think we hit the motor section, although we were darn close, amazing what the difference of a millimeter or two can make." Tony stopped a minute and looked down at his hands. "I just don't know how it happened," he continued in a low voice looking at his hands. "One minute everything was going fine, the next we were fighting to keep the kid on the table and then suddenly, Eleanor was collapsing on the floor. I must have frozen for a minute when I saw her go down. My God, the next thing I knew, my hand was dripping with blood and the girl's face was a bloody mess. Paul, it's not my fault. Help me make them understand," pleaded Tony. "They told me that they had erased all the killer programming. I didn't know what I was doing. It was as if I were helplessly watching someone else crushing that girl's face." Tony started to sob again and wring his hands.

Paul quietly considered what Tony was saying. He shouldn't be openly admitting to that kind of programming. Walls have a way of having ears. Shadow programming and de-programming was designed to prevent agents from divulging their identity. It would be totally unthinkable for someone who had willingly taken an oath to accept death as a daily occurrence to be here at the SBC. Paul thought for a moment longer before coming up with a plausible excuse.

"Under the code of the Shadows, you weren't responsible for any deaths you inflicted, because of your programming," stated Paul in a hushed whisper.

"But I renounced that oath and was subjected to months of de-programming and have since taken an oath to preserve lives. I broke my oath and violated my programming. I should be wiped," finished Tony dejectedly, looking off into a swirling black hole that only he could see. Tony saying he should be wiped distressed Paul. Tony was a like a brother and very important to him. Paul searched his mind for a solution to his problem.

"Listen, Tony. I don't want to hear you talking like this. You need to consider the possibility that your programming wasn't completely erased and if this is the case, you should still be permitted protection under the code of the Shadows. I'll quietly make arrangements to have your programming reviewed." Paul was trying to find logic Tony could accept and calculate his next objection.

"But, I broke my..." Tony started to object loudly.

"No," interrupted Paul as he shook his head. He continued in a softer voice, "You believed your duty to the Shadows ended when you were de-programmed. Right?" Tony just nodded his head. "So," continued Paul, "you weren't being hypocritical when you took your oath of preservation and accepted re-programming. You have been a model of that oath for all the years I've known you." Tony looked into Paul's blue eyes wanting to believe that what he was saying was the truth. He was finding it increasingly more difficult in his own mind to justify that he was not morally responsible for the child's death. He wasn't sure he could live with himself if he didn't.

"But how can I be sure that it was the programming and not some instinct I have?" implored Tony in a low voice as he scrutinized Paul's face to see how he felt about what he had done. All he could see was concern. Paul looked around the room and over his shoulder before he moved closer to speak to Tony in a very low voice.

"Tony, I've watched you work with hundreds of kids. You don't have a killer instinct. You go out of your way to save people's lives. You say you can't even remember killing the girl? That's a classic Shadow programming technique. You should know that by now. You've done enough programming to know the difference between an instinct and programming." Tony sighed heavily as his gaze dropped to his hands.

"Maybe you're right," he whispered. "I guess first, I should contact the SBC IA and inform them of the accident. My records must have some kind of obscure annotation that will prove that I was once..."

"I'm sure there is and it won't be hard to exonerate you, especially with injury to Eleanor and her subsequent death." Paul instantly realized that he had said more than he had intended to at this time.

"Eleanor is dead?" Tony stared open mouthed at Paul. Paul dropped his head and closed his eyes, mentally scolding himself for his carelessness. He knew how fragile Tony's state of mind was right now. He sighed to gain control of himself before he looked into Tony's tortured face.

"I saw the surgical team coming out of the O.R. on my way back from your locker. They said the parietal bone was crushed causing a hemorrhage too massive to control in time. They didn't even have time to establish her in the stasis field before she started to straight line." Paul paused for a moment and then added, "They said she didn't suffer. I'm sorry, Tony."

Tony stared at Paul in dumbfounded disbelief.

"Another death on my hands," he whispered aloud.

"No, Tony!" growled Paul as he sprang from his chair and grabbed Tony by the front of his shirt and shook him. "You didn't kill her. It was a freak accident, a hazard of the job. There was nothing you could have done for her. No one knew that girl was going to come up at that moment. Eleanor was doing her job. You were doing your job. You are not responsible for her death," Paul hissed. Tony was startled by Paul's vehemence. He blinked several times to clear the tears away from his eyes as Paul slowly released him back into the chair and clasped his shoulders. "Do you understand me, Tony?" finished Paul still holding Tony's eyes with his own and slowly releasing Tony's shoulders.

"Yeah, okay, just give me a minute to clear my head," sighed Tony. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. 'Dear God, forgive me and please help me make them understand,' he thought to himself and then said aloud, "Okay, let's go."