‘The world powers thought there were only six heroes... they were mistaken.’
Professor Julian Saber

Do you remember when things started getting weird in the early part of the 21st Century? How bad news seemed to be everywhere, with reports of weapons of mass destruction, bogus terrorism, fake wars for oil, chemtrails in the skies, the energy crises. Then how, out of nowhere, The SIX appeared to save the planet and incidentally us as well. Boy did we ever cheer them on… real live comic book superheroes, we all thought, humph! The world cheered them on, that is, until they declared themselves the planet’s peacekeepers and started messing in anything and everything they decided to. Some of us know the truth of what happened next.

The existing power groups decided that if The SIX wouldn't conform, something would have to be done to control them. In 2010 the United Nations, acting with the backing of the Security Council, faked an emergency at the international moon base, evacuated the crew, and called on The SIX for help. Giving the team the use of the latest generation shuttle, they lured them to the base and then blew up the shuttle, stranding them there. Although The SIX could fly and had extraordinary powers, none could survive vacuum conditions unprotected. The Earth’s rulers could now get back to business as usual. This is all history as recorded.

The fact is that The SIX had received their abilities from, for lack of a better explanation, high tech suits that had been given to them by an unknown agency. Everyone truly in power thought there were only six heroes, as only six emerged.

They couldn’t have been more wrong…

The room was dark, lit only by the dying embers of the fire and the crepuscular pre-dawn light from the window. She spoke from the shadows.

Daddy, I don’t understand, why am I being sent there?”

“My darling, this individual is the key to our plans. We need him,” he replied with a slight frown.

“Why do we need him so badly?” she asked, “I’ve read all of your files on him, but I still don’t see.”

“He’s a thinker, a genius on a world class scale,” he paused, “even if he doesn’t realize it. He is a man of deep feelings and has been hurt by the very world he is trying to save, so he withdraws. He needs you as much as the world needs him. Now do you understand?”

“I guess so, but what if he doesn’t like me?” she said with a hint of doubt and anxiety.

“Sweetheart,” the older man chuckled dryly, “everything I know about him tells me that he will be unable to resist you. It’s as if you were made to be with him and he’ll be fascinated by you. It is a sure bet, my darling. Now you go and get ready. I’m proud of you.”

Alone in his study again, he looked out to the east as the dawn was turning the morning sky brilliant with pinks and oranges.

“Let the games begin…”

Back in 2008 as the other six randomly chosen citizens of the planet received their suits, read the instructions at face value and donned them, a seventh suit was delivered to a forty five year old in Canada. Gregory Howard was one of the best technologists in the world. He didn't even understand sometimes how he would fix the problems he was presented with, but this was his gift. As with some gifts, however, it had come at the price of personal stability. He had succeeded pretty well, and lived comfortably and quietly, occasionally doing work for various corporations and governments as a high-level hardware and software diagnostician and researcher.

Greg was what most people would call a loner. He had long since made his peace with his depression and set out to make it easier to live with. After being treated and analyzed for years, he one day just stopped medicating his condition and started to work within himself to, if not cure it, control it. He had somehow rewired his mind to deal with the depression, but he could never fully deal with his status as an outsider. Therefore, he used his money to build a place on Franklin Island that was comfortable, self-sustaining and afforded him the time to relax and work on his own hobbies of cooking, gardening and playing with the latest technologies. He was, by his own admission, content but alone. By working with the provincial government, he had been named conservator of the crown land and eco preserve that was Franklin Island, near Parry Sound, Ontario. He had then worked out a deal with the Federal Government that allowed him to build more then a simple cabin on the land. The result was he now lived and worked in his one-man think tank The Alternative Energy Research Institute, The AERI.

Then on August 21st, 2008, Greg received the same package that had been delivered to six others around the world.

"Greetings," read the note, "you have been chosen out of Earth’s billions to receive a wonderful gift. The suit that you now possess is a gateway to powers beyond your wildest dreams. Use them wisely for they can be both a gift and a curse."
That was it, no explanations, no detailed instructions other than how to put on the suit, just powers. The others may have taken this at face value, but Greg had always had an insatiable need to know the why and how of things. It was what made him who he was.

Looking at the fine mesh of the garment, he began to examine it closely. He had never encountered its like before, and he had never been so frustrated, either. I’m going to need my tools, he thought. He gathered up the suit, walked to his lab, and got busy trying to figure out what the functions of the suit were. He worked on it every day to the exclusion of everything else, sometimes even forgetting to sleep. Even then, it took nearly two weeks to find the circuitry traces in the weave. Nevertheless, this gave him the impetus to carry on his examinations. It was another six days before Greg found what looked like a data port. What he had discovered about the garment was astounding, and he had barely scratched the surface... its interior was lined with what seemed like trillions of hair fine probes, that would extend slightly when they sensed flesh in their proximity.

Greg took copious notes and diagrams of the circuitry where he could. He was in a state of constant amazement. It appeared to be some sort of symbiotic biotechnology, which would link up with the human nervous system. It was far beyond anything he had ever seen or imagined possible. Whoever had designed this system was either a genius or a certifiable lunatic. After working feverishly for a month, Greg managed to cobble together a crude adaptor for the data port on the suit. Nevertheless, he had his doubts about connecting the suit to his home network, so he built an isolated computer system to run his tests. It was also unnerving that ever since he received the suit, he had been having strange dreams about a woman he had never met, although he recognized her somehow and he could see her clearly, they couldn't communicate. It seemed he knew her to the base of his soul.

The next day Greg hooked up his homemade adaptor to the suits dataport, and connected it to the isolated system in the lab. The results were astounding. He didn’t even have a chance to turn on the computer when the suit glowed dimly and gave off a slight hum. The computer screen filled with gibberish and static followed by a spontaneous reboot of the tower. Not a regular reboot either, but a near instantaneous restart that left the monitor showing the face of the woman who had been haunting his dreams for weeks. She appeared to be looking around wildly and mouthing words.

Greg smacked himself in the forehead when he realized he had been capital ‘S’, Stupid! There was no input or output devices connected to the computer except the keyboard, the monitor and his adaptor connection to the suit. Greg rushed over to the keyboard and typed,

“Standby,” hoping for some form of acknowledgment. He was not disappointed.

“STANDING BY,” printed out in plain text on the screen and the image of the woman seemed to lose some of her panic. Greg was astounded but his mind was already hard at work formulating the possibilities as he gathered the necessary speakers, camera and stereo microphone. It seemed incredible, but the entire operating system of the computer had been subsumed and re-written in a matter of seconds. Impossible as it seemed to Greg, the suit appeared to have some sort of artificial intelligence in it. It stood to reason however, as the hardware of the suit was a quantum leap forward, the software had to be at least as intricate. He connected the peripherals to the system and then typed,

“Reboot the system to access the peripheral devices,” but was astounded to then hear a warm contralto voice.

“A restart will not be necessary. Please identify yourself,” came again from the speakers.

Stunned as he was, Greg managed to stammer nervously,

“Uh... Gregory Howard, um at your service.”

The avatar on the screen looked him directly in the eyes,

“Howard, Gregory, Ontario Canada North Americas suit seven infiltration.”

A corner of Greg’s mind vaguely took note that the lips of the avatar and the voice were in perfect sync. The world was starting to spin rapidly out of his comfort zone. The image continued to address him.

“Why did you not put on the suit, Gregory Howard?”

Greg regained control of his voice,

“Um, look, just Greg is fine. The reason I didn't put on the suit was that I needed more information than the simple note that came with it offered. I was curious about the hows and the whys and that need to know is probably the only reason that we're talking now. I’d honestly had trepidations about even connecting the adaptor at all.” Amazing as it seemed, Greg felt that this being deserved an honest answer,

“I’m sorry… do you have a name or designation? You know me, but I know nothing of you except 'suit seven infiltration', and that’s a real mouthful.”

Greg smiled and astoundingly enough, so did the avatar. The letters TRI Ca printed across the monitor as she spoke the words.

“You can call me TRI Ca,” the avatar responded, pronouncing the name as if it were Tricia.

“OK, Tri ca it is than. Is Trish OK?” Greg glanced up at the screen, “Tricia seems a touch formal.”

The avatar smiled and chuckled warmly.

“Trish is more than fine.”

“So,” Greg began, “I figured out that you're an extremely advanced AI and the hardware in the suit has some sort of nervous system connections, but that's all I know about you. Everything else is theory and hypothesis. Care to update my education Trish?”

“I will tell you what can be communicated verbally and what was not listed as classified by my creator,” she offered. “Will that do? It’s really all I can divulge without a direct neural link.”

“Well, barring the neural link, it’ll do for a start. You have my undivided attention," he responded. Trish took on the tone of a lecturing teacher.

“To begin, the Physio Neural Enhancement Suits and specifically the TRI Ca AI unit were built by an individual who wished to provide an increasingly unstable world a means of stability. Through the use of advanced cybernetics and nanomechanics, the PNEs have the ability to give the wearers enhanced supernormal abilities or to coin a phrase, superpowers,”

Trish grinned openly at that and it struck Greg that her face was very beautiful and, well, very human. Trish continued,

“Once bonded, the wearer will be given abilities and powers to keep the peace of Earth and if necessary enforce that peace as well. There are built in fail-safe devices to prevent misuse of these abilities, however of this feature, further details are listed classified.”

This small detail struck Greg as sensible but the fact it was classified he felt was somewhat ominous.

“Bonding is a voluntary, but irreversible procedure. There is an AI in all of the PNEs to assist with the learning curve on how to use the different powers built into each unit,” Trish paused.

“There are two minds in each enhanced person?" Greg frowned.

“At first, yes,” said Trish, “but over time it is expected that the two minds will blend to create a sort of combined persona, in theory. Let me explain…”

The two continued chatting for hours, pausing only for Greg to eat or use the washroom. Finally, Greg glanced at the clock on the wall of the lab. He was startled to see that it was approaching midnight. He suddenly was very tired. He smiled at Trish.

“Could we continue this discussion in the morning? I don’t know about you, but I could use some downtime,” he said apologetically.

“Of course Doctor Howard, sleep well.”

The monitor dimmed as he left the room.

Over the next couple of weeks, Greg and Trish got to know each other better. They discussed everything from Greg’s work and notions of environmental responsibility to the basics of the enhancement process and the extent of the physiological changes during the bonding procedure. In a pattern that would be repeated on a daily basis, he would come to the lab after breakfast and Trish would ask him questions about himself and his life and he would try to get as much information from her that wasn’t ‘listed classified’ by her creator. He looked forward to the time he spent with her and regretted having to leave her every night. Greg had become very attached to this young, for lack of a better term, woman without even realizing it. He kept an eye on the outside world as well, watching the newsfeeds for any mention of the other enhanced people.

He began hearing about The SIX, and had followed their exploits for several weeks. Greg wondered if anyone else but the one who had sent this marvel to him knew of the existence of the seventh PNE. From the lack of superheroes showing up on his doorstep, he had to assume that no one else did. He kept Trish up to date on the progress of the others and she was excited by the prospect of meeting with her brothers and sisters, as she termed it. Greg, on the other hand, was not so sure.

On December 21st, 2008, Greg was chatting with Trish as he enjoyed a hot beverage. Trish was questioning him about the habit.

“… I really don’t understand why you take toxins into your system on a regular basis, when they are known to be bad for you.”

Greg smiled and sipped at his BAS coffee.

“I enjoy the flavour, and the caffeine content is far from toxic. The buzz that I get keeps me sharp and I need that for some of the questions you toss at me,” he teased.

Trish stuck out her tongue at him and then seemed to strike a listening pose.

“Alert! There is a major news alert!” she intoned.

“How in hell do you know that?” he asked. “Oh, let me guess, receivers built into the suit?”

“Among other things, wait... standby...” she replied. “Turn on the newsfeed please.”

Greg turned on a nearby monitor to one of the twenty-four hour news channels.

“…is a GNN special report. That was the scene at the U.N. just minutes ago, as the super beings calling themselves The SIX, announced themselves officially to the world. They spoke before the General Assembly and declared themselves extraterritorial. Over the last few weeks, there have been scattered reports of clashes with superhumans all over the world however the confrontations all seem to be of an environmental nature. The spokesperson for the group announced that they are now the planet’s defenders and peacekeepers, that they would make the world a better place for everyone…”

“I want everyone to take notice that The SIX will not be playing any political games,” the spokesperson said, “but will help those in need and punish the wrongdoers, any wrongdoers. We will work to ease the suffering of people everywhere and make sure that none are denied the basics of life and human dignity.”

“The group took questions from the assembly and then left the United Nations building here in New York City by flying off into the sky. This is Gareth Dobson for GNN…”

Greg switched the monitor off. Trish looked worried. They both remained silent in thought.

“Although that may seem a logical step,” Trish ventured, “it’s ill-advised at such an early stage. The world leaders will not be happy.”

Greg grinned then assumed a straight face.

“Who really cares if the leaders are happy,” he said. “Shouldn’t the people of the world be the happy ones? But I understand your concerns. I take it this wasn't exactly in the program?”

“Not really,” she said. “It was always acknowledged by the creator and us AIs as a possibility, but we never concluded that it would ever happen, let alone so soon. The probability factor was so low as to be ridiculous… darn!”

She was visibly shaken and concerned. Greg tried to explain what might have gone wrong.

“You probably didn't allow for the human factor,” he offered.

They launched into a long discussion on what Greg knew about the various governments and corporations of the world. Trish seemed fascinated by the geopolitical structure of the various global power blocs and how the power of corporate culture seemed to be coming more and more to the centre of the world stage. They spoke long into the night, until even Greg’s strongest coffee wouldn’t keep him awake. It was two days later that Greg caught wind of The SIX’s activities even before Trish could alert him. The news broadcast interrupted all programming as far as he was aware.

“Breaking news from Sudbury, Canada, where the superbeings calling themselves The SIX have destroyed the NICO and Hawkspan ore processing facilities. While there has been no official statements from either the supers or the corporations, it is rumoured that the devastation was caused by the companies’ refusal to address The SIX’s concerns about pollution controls and toxic waste dumping. There are no causalities however, as the supers evacuated the facilities by force. We will have more details as they become available. This is Gareth Dobson, for GNN.”

Trish couldn’t believe what she had heard and Greg was just as stunned by the pictures of devastation being shown on the screen. He shook himself, snapped off the newsfeed, and looked at Trish.

“Do you mind telling me what the hell that was?” he snapped. “I thought you said the AIs would be able to prevent this sort of thing.”

“I really can’t tell you Doctor Howard,” Trish replied icily, “as I am limited to the computer in front of you and the PNE suit. I have no access to any other information than I receive from the airwaves.”

Greg stopped short and composed himself.

“I’m sorry Trish,” he apologized, “that was wrong of me. I just reacted emotionally and went after the only authority figure around. Shock, I guess, but I just assumed that you would know what was going on.”

“I understand Greg, I’m as shocked as you are. The actions of The SIX don’t appear logical,” Trish looked worried.

“I don’t think you can apply logic here at all. It’s the human factor that we talked about, and I also assume that the AI systems have not been fully integrated with the human personalities yet either," Greg reasoned.

“If at all,” she remarked snidely. “Hmmm…standby... processing... darn! I need more processing power or a neural hook-up... could I link to your networks?” Greg cleared his throat,

“What do you need to do that, cabling, physical connections?"

“No, just that darned unbreakable security code of yours,” Trish snapped. “Sorry,” Trish was still shaken, but had a wry smile on her face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he snorted. “It’s a simple eight letter password, how is that unbreakable?”

“It fits no logical sequence at all, thank you very much,” Trish grinned. “Trust me, I’ve been trying. Your personality and what you’ve told me about yourself have given me no clues,” she sounded frustrated.

“There’s that human factor again,” he admitted wryly. “It's a cat’s name, an unusual one, granted. It’s the name of an old friend now long gone, ANIMIKEE.”

“Ojibwa?” Trish wondered, “that’s why I had problems. I was working in your native tongue. Accessing... dammit, your network doesn’t have enough power. Connecting to the web… null info… accessing Virtual Private Network to the mainframe... failure…wait… failure? Retry… failure…how can that be? Tracing route…NO! The mainframe is inactive... t-that’s impossible! Accessing satellite network... scanning images for geophysical location… NO! It’s not possible! T-the creators installation... it... it... nononononononononononono...”

Greg jumped out of his seat, Trish was looping, if he was any judge of software.

“Trish, Trish… please show me what you’re seeing.” Greg prompted her gently. This AI was an emotional being, it seemed. The 52-inch plasma monitor on the wall lit and stabilized into a satellite shot of a mountain with a smoking crater in its side.

“What in the name of the nine rings of hell am I seeing?” Greg asked.

“T-that was… that was my home… my father’s home, w-where I was b…b…b created…it…” she trailed off.

“Could what we’re seeing have been caused by an accident?” he prompted.

“Insufficient data.” The flatness of her tone suggested that the AI was struggling with terror and sorrow.

“Can you determine whether the destruction was caused by external forces? Were they attacked, did it blow from inside?” he kept probing.

“Insufficient data…”

Greg tried another approach,

“Trish, listen to me, listen to me now… Trish... it hurts, I know, I’ve lost members of my family too. I also understand that this is a terrifyingly new thing for you, but you have to focus now. I want to help, but we have to work together. I need more information than you’ve given me, please...”

There was a very human sniffle and when her avatar looked in his direction from all of the monitors at once, it was very disconcerting.

“How, just how can you help,” she struggled for the right word angrily, “... you… Human!?”

“By knowing as much about you and your creator as possible,” he pleaded. “Please, we can work together, we can find the answers, but I need this information before I can help you.”

Greg was being as gentle as possible but it was still shaky ground. Trish may have been a very advanced AI, but it was obvious to him that she was still very young emotionally.

“Please? Let me help?” he coaxed.

Her anger vanished and she suddenly seemed very shy, refusing to meet his eyes.

“No… I-I can’t... it’s hardwired... I can’t access… n-no… it’s impossible...” she stammered.

“Hey, hey shhhh... it’s OK, shhhh,” he said soothingly. “Show me how, I have some small talents... we can work together... its OK.”

He spoke quietly and calmly trying his best to stop this person’s pain. It’s true, she’s as much a person as I am and she has had a terrible shock, he thought. Then something caught Greg’s peripheral vision. There was a barely noticeable glimmer from the spinal region of the suit. Greg put on his magnifying loupe and went over to it. This is probably as much as she can do and she’s probably fighting against all of her programming to do this much, his thoughts continued. He looked down at the gently pulsing circuit. As he examined it, he saw that it was the equivalent of a rotational switch. He selected his most delicate probe, and gently rotated it 90 degrees clockwise from its preset. There was a small solid click and the glow in the suit intensified slightly. Greg had to smile at the switch’s location. If you had the suit on, it would have been very low on the wearer’s spine. Not too many people would have been bothered to look for it there. He gave the suit a little caress, straightened up and went back to Trish.

“All done,” he smiled, “are you feeling a little better?”

“Yes, thanks, that was nice. You have very soft hands,” she shyly replied.

Greg noticed that she seemed a little more open, a little less formal in her speech patterns. He raised his eyebrows.

“You could feel that?” he asked.

“That and every other gentle touch... uh… thanks… uh… thank you.”

She seemed slightly embarrassed and changed the subject quickly, then cleared her throat,

“I have the information you asked for. Professor Julian Saber is my father. It was he who created us and the suits and about 40 other breakthroughs that may now be lost forever.”

A slight shine appeared in her eyes and she glanced upwards.

“When he saw the way the world was going in the late 1960’s, he realized that the governments and corporations were not going to be able to stop humanity's slide to destruction, and he came to the sad conclusion that they weren’t even trying,” she paused.

“He was a brilliant scientist and worked for the better part of 25 years with C.E.R.N. in Switzerland. While he was there, he contributed heavily to the creation of the World Wide Web, made great leaps forward in artificial intelligence, made incredible advances in cybernetics and in a field that he called nanomechanics. He published some of his theories and breakthroughs, but he kept more to himself, not out of greed or malice, but a greater sense of responsibility. He instinctively knew the world was not mature enough for most of the technology he had created. He had grown up reading comics and dreaming of superheroes, but the world we live in was not the world of fantasy he’d read about and never developed heroes. Reality, it seemed, just kept coming up with better ways to destroy itself.”

Trish was bitter now and her eyes were wet with tears of sorrow and rage.

“He believed that he could save everyone, save the world... he... he couldn't even save himself,” she said with a slight catch in her voice. She took a deep breath and paused to gather her thoughts.

“Professor Saber left C.E.R.N. in the mid 1990’s to set up his own private lab. It was there he created the first AI that he called Solomon: System Oversight Logical Override Multi Order Network. Solomon The Wise, Father jokingly referred to him. That first AI was the child of the internet. Sol subsumed all the public information nets and a few government and private networks as well. No one even suspected he existed,” Trish chuckled. “He came on line in 1998, around the same time that the internet revolution was occurring. Father and Solomon worked quietly and trickled information to the WWW Consortium that made vaster, quicker networks possible. They both thought that the more information that was shared, the less could be hidden from the people. Information was safety for the human race.”

Greg was utterly fascinated as he listened to her. He spoke up without even realizing it.

“Goddess, I remember that time. That was when my 'gifts' kicked in as well as my various curses,” he murmured.

Trish met his eyes momentarily then continued as if he had said nothing at all. She had to, for this was her catharsis.

“Father designed and built the first of the nanomech suit components in 2000, funding the research by releasing breakthroughs in artificial limbs and organs. “Sight for the Sightless” trumpeted the Scientific American and many of the other technical and medical journals. Time magazine named him their “Man of the Year” and he took a Nobel Prize for science. Other researchers could not understand how he had done it or even comprehend the science behind it,” she paused again.
“The manufactory was in Switzerland as was his headquarters. No one even had a glimmering of what he was really doing. He told me that it was 2002 when he stood before the United Nations for the first and last time. “I am a citizen of the world,” he said as he accepted the U.N. commendations for his gifts to humanity. They all thought he was being theatrical until they received a package that contained his birth certificate, passport, and identification in the rotunda the next day. By 2006 and working without any further contact with the outside world except for a law firm in Geneva, he had created the first crude PNE suit with no real neural connections and barely any nervous system inputs at all,”

She paused as if gathering her thoughts. “For all the world it looked like a suit of medieval armour and sounded like a diesel locomotive, but when he put it on, lifted a two-ton weight, hovered 5 feet off the ground and then flew from his home in Europe to Tokyo and back in under half an hour, he knew he was on the road to achieving his dream. He was 65 that day,” she smiled slightly. “He built the next 6 AIs between 2006 and 2007, setting them to learn from Solomon. They were, in order: DAN Au, AND Ru, LIN GB, PRIM US, LEA SA, and MARC As.”

“Hmm,” Greg muttered. “Why did he create two AIs for North America?”

Tricia choked back a sobbing laugh, her tears flowing freely now.

“I can see why Father kept such a close watch on you, Greg, you are very quick. He built me in late 2007, early 2008. I’m his youngest child and TRI Ca is Tri, location Canada. He always felt that Canadians were, if not more civilized than most people, then at least more relaxed and humorous about things. It was his dream that you would become the voice of reason for the Enhanced. My father idolized Tommy Douglas and thought that Lester B. Pearson was a saint. He called Pearson one of the last, true statesmen of the 20th Century, known as the ‘father of peacekeeping’. Maybe if we had been bonded, if we had been functioning it wouldn’t have… DAMN YOU GREG HOWARD! WE COULD HAVE STOPPED THIS!” she suddenly screamed.

Greg started as one of his monitors imploded in a shower of sparks.

“Together we could have stopped The SIX from acting so rashly!” she raged on. “We could have stopped the destruction of my home! My father would still be... we could have... we could...” She trailed off then glared at him with real fury.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST PUT ON THE DAMN SUIT? THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! You had to be so… s-so…damned cautious! You couldn’t just accept the gift and now Daddy is dead and The SIX are doing God knows what all over the world and I’m stuck here helpless a-and… and… oh Daddy!”

She was sobbing now and couldn’t make a coherent noise, just an agonized wail. It was all that Greg wanted, to be able to give comfort to this strange woman-child, but there seemed to be no way to hold her, to give her the touch she desperately needed. Then it struck him, he could give comfort to Trish, as she in essence, was the suit. She had said as much earlier that day. He walked to the worktable where the light mesh was spread out face down and cautiously, gently gave the shoulders a light rub. Stroking them slowly upwards then down again. He heard what sounded like a hiccup. Carefully he picked up the suit and hugged it to him, still stroking the shoulders.

“Shhhh, shhhh, it’s alright to be angry,” Greg said soothingly, “it’s OK to feel anguish Trish. I’m sure that this is something you were never designed or raised to experience. Let it out, I’m here for you, we’ll get through this together.”

The wailing steadied down to a rhythmic sobbing and Greg did not deny her the time it took to cry herself out. He was amazed at the depth of emotion Trish was displaying. Everything he knew, everything he had learnt in the past few months with her told him that Trish was very advanced software. However, everything that Greg had experienced in the past 12 hours told him that this person of silicon was as real and feeling as any carbon person that he had ever met. One thing was certain, he had never felt this close to any human outside of his family before.

It was nearly midnight when Greg looked over at the monitor and saw that Trish had finally closed her eyes and was in a deep sleep or sleep mode or whatever she used to recharge emotionally. A little voice in the back of Greg’s head reminded him that this was a machine. Greg promptly told it to shut up and fuck off. He decided to curl up on his lab cot so that Trish, whenever she awoke, would not be alone after the trauma of the previous day. Greg lay down and was asleep in moments. He awoke with sunlight streaming in through the high east windows of the lab and tried to remember why he had slept there. He had always had problems thinking straight in the time ‘Before Coffee’. Then Greg bolted upright as the events of the previous day flooded back into his consciousness. He looked at the monitors around the lab and saw various newsfeeds displayed on some, websites and datafeeds flashing by on others. Then he saw Trish’s avatar watching him with the oddest expression on her face. She saw he was awake and smiled shyly.

“I’m, um… sorry about how I acted toward you last night. No one could have prevented the events of the last 24 hours, not even us. Uh…” she trailed off.

Greg knew that she was searching for a way to thank him for something that shouldn’t have been possible. The little voice in the back of his head told him machines didn’t have emotions and what he was feeling was irrational. He locked away that unworthy thought.

“I think I know what you want to say Trish, but don’t try to put language to it yet,” he smiled at her. “In the last day, everything you knew to be real and right was shattered. This was beyond comprehension, especially for someone as young as you. You were born for a purpose,” Greg paused as a decision he had been delaying resolved itself in a flash, “…and though that purpose will be fulfilled, you’ve had to re-examine all that you’ve ever been taught and re-evaluate that purpose. Last night, I saw that you were in a pain unlike any you’d ever experienced before and I did the only thing I could’ve for any intelligence in pain. I held you in my arms while you cried out the pain and anger. Um… did you sleep?”

She looked at Greg then smiled her shy smile again while dipping her eyes.

“I uh, I assume that’s what the eight hour gap in my memory is. I’ve never ‘slept’ before. Uh, I don’t know how to say this but, as my systems went offline and I felt your hands, I truly felt safe… um and loved, I guess. No one but my father has made me feel that safe. I’m going to have to figure this out, but I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you for caring.”

Trish quickly changed the subject. She had a habit of doing that when she was embarrassed.

“Uh…all of the existing data that I’ve been able to correlate so far shows that none of the physioneural suits were anywhere near Switzerland at the time of the incident, and I can’t find any pattern that would explain the destruction in any of the feeds I’ve been studying. Oh shit! I’m not designed for this task; this is Dan’s specialty. He could have ferreted out a trail and had a plan figured out from two toothpicks and a Dixie cup.”

“Dan? Who’s Dan?” asked Greg.

“Oh duh, that’s right… I never told you anything more about the other AIs did I?” she grinned suddenly. “My bad, OK, my eldest brother is DAN Au or Detection Algorithms & Negotiation, Australia. He’s the planner and tactician. He can correlate all available data in a situation and come up with any number of scenarios. He’s very smart but very taciturn. His bond was designed for a leadership role and is very strong, but his planning skill is his true strength. The next in line but created later is Prime or PRIM Us, he’s called Primary Recon Intel Matrix, United States and has the job of information gathering and reconnaissance. His bond has stealth, speed and information gathering devices that could suss out your credit rating from your dental patterns. Prime goes in first and gets the intelligence for Dan. Then once a plan is in place, the rest of the team moves in according to their specialties,” Trish expounded.

“So, who are your other siblings?” Greg was fascinated.

“Well, there’s my eldest sister, Ling, LIN GB or Lacunar Interdimensional Navigator, Great Britain. She’s the speedster in our group. Her bond generates wormholes that she moves through, like doorways. She can almost be in 10 places at once because her travel is instantaneous. She also provides the transportation for the team. As with all of the suits, the strength of the wearer is increased tenfold. However, our real strongman is big brother Andrew, AND Ru or Adamantine Neutralization Decimator, Russia. Andrew can find the weak spot in anything and his bond is ten times as strong as any of the others are. He’s sort of our point and shoot trooper… directed brute force. Andy was always my favourite brother because he was a deep thinker as well as a having a gentle sense of humour,” Trish smiled at her memory, and continued,

“Sister Lisa is LEA SA or Levitation & Elemental Arrangement, South America. She’s very cool and controlled but knows so much about how everything is put together. Her bond uses gravity waves to rearrange elemental structure. She can make a tissue so hard that Andy would have difficulty with it, or make a sheet of titanium steel so weak, that a non-enhanced human could crush it.” Trish paused so that Greg could absorb the information

“Cool, OK that’s five of your siblings, who’s number six?” Greg asked raptly.

“Number six is Mark, MARC As, or Manipulated Augmentation Refraction & Casting, Asia. He’s the second youngest and is full of schemes and always wanting to jump ahead and prove himself,” Trish paused. “I wonder if that changed when he bonded? Marc’s bond can make energy do almost anything within the realm of physics. Like all of the interface bonds, there are built in flight capacity, armour and as I may have mentioned before, augmented strength.”

Greg chuckled at her joke and then grinned as he suddenly had an image in his mind’s eye.

“Whoa, I guess Professor Saber really does like his comic books. That’s pretty much a standard JLA or Avengers line-up. You have the telepath, the tactician, the speedster, the elemental, the brick and the energy slinger. I think we would get along, he and I.” Greg coughed, embarrassment reddening his cheeks. Realizing he may have just opened a fresh wound, he continued,

“Anyways, right now we have to talk about our options and course of action. Trish, I’ve decided to put on the PNE, interface, suit, bond-thingy but, just exactly what happens when I put on the suit?”

Trish was silent for so long, that Greg started to think that she had been hurt by his comments about the Professor, but she was actually trying to find the words to describe the bonding. She furrowed her brow slightly, which Greg found startlingly attractive. His heart gave an unexpectedly hard thump.

“It’s very difficult to verbalize the concepts involved in the bond, but I’ll try. Greg, have you ever been married or had a serious relationship?”

Greg nodded, as his mouth was suddenly very dry.

“Well this is probably a thousand times more intimate. It was most likely easier for the others, they were sent to people they matched in gender, but for reasons known only to Father, I was matched with you. When I asked Solomon about it, he merely said it was essential for our mission profile. I really started to hate that phrase. It was Solomon-speak for ‘you do not need to know, now run along and play’.” Trish smiled and continued, “Physiologically, once you seal into the suit, the nervous system probes will integrate with your body, allowing the nanomechs to deploy and start the first phase of the bonding. The suit itself is really a sort of delivery system for the nanomechs and software. It then becomes raw materials for the rest of the process and will be gone when you wake up after the bond is complete. Once the nanomechs are in place, all of the technology that houses me will have been duplicated inside you and then the nanomechs will begin to rebuild your systems from the ground up. By the time the physical integration is complete, you will no longer be affected by heat or cold and nothing short of a .50 calibre slug will demand your attention…” she smirked, “…and then not much of it. As soon as Phase One, the tech replication and integration is completed, then the nanomechs can begin to rebuild the bones, organs, and tissues in a process similar to Neoplasia. If this step, Phase Two, was not taken, the use of your abilities could injure you, even possibly destroy your body. The biomechanical processes are completed first, usually in about a week, and then Phase Three, the neural bonding begins. This process has to be taken slowly because no two brains are structured exactly alike. The complete bonding takes between four and six months and could go a long way in explaining the actions of The SIX.”

“Oh, how so?” Greg was brought back from deep thought.

“The AIs are not just in the PNEs as an operating system, but as advisors and also fail safe mechanisms. Fully integrated, each AI assists in the decision-making process and if it sees a potential misuse of power, it will shut down all offensive systems. Sort of a conscience and circuit breaker all in one, but because The SIX started adventuring before full integration had occurred, the ‘human factor’, as you call it, was able to ignore the AI advice and make a series of bold, but probably dangerous moves. Even your comic book hero teams worked with government sanction. Father used to say ‘The most dangerous thing is a cornered animal, and man is the most dangerous animal of all.’ The SIX have begun to back mankind into a corner.”

Greg considered what he had just heard and sipped at the cup of coffee in front of him.

“I think I’m beginning to understand this ‘bonding’ as best I can,” he paused for another sip, “and if I remember correctly, you’d said that for the neural bonding there’d be a blending of minds in order to create a new one that had the best aspects of both. Is this essentially correct?” Trish said nothing, but nodded from the monitor.

“Then,” he continued, “I gather that this probably won’t be the case for our bonding, will it?”

Trish looked at Greg and nodded again.

To Be Continued...