FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

by Hector Scofield. Edited and corrected by Ben243.

This story is part of the MFM series.

It was a sunny summer day in LA. A bit dry for Jordan Greenwald's taste, but perfect to give their new swimming pool a proper first trial. His son J.J. inflated the air mattress and his Mom stood in the kitchen, preparing the meat for their later BBQ. Kate insisted on handling the grill this time, so her husband could finally relax a bit and enjoy his long overdue holiday.

Work had been rough these last months with the economy crumbling and all that, forcing Jordan to push harder to keep his company up and running. If it hadn't been for his family's support, Jordan would have lost his hope a long time ago, and to thank them he pulled some strings, called in a few favors and bought them the pool. All he had to do now was to lean back and enjoy a cold one in the Californian sun.

Kate was about to wash some lettuce in the kitchen sink when she heard some splashing noises from outside. She assumed J.J. had jumped into the pool. That boy! He'd just eaten a sandwich a few minutes ago and was supposed to wait. And now he was making all this commotion. She called out for him to stop, which he did. Suddenly. She still had no idea what just happened!

A minute or two later she went outside to surprise her boys with some fresh pressed Orange juice. The sun blinded her, so at first she couldn't see clearly. She just saw the silhouette of her husband, standing in front of her. Glancing over towards the pool, she call out for J.J.. In that moment she lost the grip on the Glass carafe, which fell on the hard floor, spilling pieces of glass, ice cubes and orange juice all over the place. Her heart skipped a beat, as she was looking in horror at the lifeless body of her son, drifting head down in the pool.

She couldn't help him. There was no time! Even before she could scream in despair she felt the sudden sharp pain of a blade in her back. Looking up she saw Jordan, who had a strange, unfamiliar cold grin on his otherwise friendly and warm face, saying: "Heathen scum". She was perplexed. In pain. Dying.

Half a minute later Jordan entered the living room, took the phone from the hook, dialed a number, waited and said "Falcon 1 arrived. Delta 6 Alpha 9. I'm on my way!" He then took a long relaxing shower to get rid of the blood.

Listening to the radio as he put on some fresh clothes, he heard about recent developments in congress and at the White House. The news reported a sudden change of heart concerning foreign policies and harsh tones, even from known Leftists, against immigrants, the LGBT community and other minorities. Jordan grinned knowingly. He packed some clothes and walked calmly to the black Ford parked in front of the house.

Scenes like that happened all over the states that day. A young mother in Boston, about to fetch her kids from school, just passed them by and went on at full speed. A barista in a Starbucks in New York just walked away from his counter. When his manager tried to stop him, he tossed boiling hot coffee in her face. A police officer in Chicago searched the database for names and addresses, of one person in particular...

***

"Al, mate!! There you are!" He looked up from his drink and gave Lesley a barely convincing smirk. "Get ready for some karaoke, I told Russell we're next!" she yelled over the loud music. Some pale Neckbeard on stage was currently struggling with Morrisey. Al took a short look at her and just said: "No, thanks!" But Lesley felt there was more behind her old colleague's brooding:

"What's up, champ? You got promoted today - Assistant Manager!!! Why're you hanging at the bar all alone, instead with your friends and colleagues. Today's a day to celebrate, not to be blue!" Al should have thought about his next words, but he was drunk and felt the need to speak with someone, even if it was someone as impulsive as Lesley:

"Have I ever told you about the time I jobbed as a waiter on a Cruise Liner? Or the time I was working Au-pair in Sweden? Or when I applied as a Crime Scene Cleaner but couldn't handle all the gory stuff? Working with you guys is great and I love you, you know that... but... it wasn't supposed to be like that - not forever! Just another Odd job, to earn some money and go on. Instead I got stuck. I got older, too comfortable. And that's it! That's my life now!"

Lesley's face got dead serious: "So you're saying Assistant Manager isn't good enough for you anymore! That WE're not good enough for you!" - "Nononono, you got me wrong, honestly! It's just... not... what I..." She poured the rest of Al's drink over his head and started to walk away. Al knew he had messed up big time. It was for the best he wasn't following her though. He would have made things worse most definitely. So instead he stood up went to the bathroom to dry his hair. He stepped back into the bar just in time to hear his colleagues start singing "I will survive". Shaking his head he left the bar, heading home.

It was a warm and clear summer night. The streets to his apartment were mostly empty, barely any cars or pedestrians were around this late. It gave Al time to reflect a little more about his current situation. What would happen next? Would he met a girl, marry her, have some kids. A house, a dog, his own car? Would he be happy? Would he be even himself anymore?

He barely noticed the Police car following him and the cop on the inside aiming his gun on him. What finally tore him out of his deep thoughts wasn't the loud BANG of the officer's weapon, nor the siren of the Police car, but the noise of a van ramming it with full speed over the sidewalk and down a steep slope.

Al was perplex and about to head downwards, to help the injured Police officer, when he was stopped by the Van's driver - an elderly man with a white beard. "Get back, you idiot! That guy just tried to kill you!" - "Wha... why would ... what are you talking about?!! Are you out of your fucking mind!" - "I have no time for this!" With this the old man draw a gun himself and motioned for him to enter the rear of his van. Al was frightened to death, but did as he was told. Before the stranger closed the door, he knocked Al out with a swift hit from the handle of his gun. Al collapsed onto some plastic sheets, and remained motionless.

***

Al had barely begun to regain consciousness when he was rudely awaken by a sudden sharp pain in his neck. That old mad man seemed to have injected him with something. A microchip, as he was told. "A microchip for what?" Al demanded answers, but he was strapped on something that looked like a dentist chair, barely able to move a muscle. "Where am I? Why am I here?" The old man ignored him and instead typed something on the keyboard of a huge console.

Al glanced around and realized he was trapped underneath a giant machine. His field of view was filled with a maze of cables running around and through pipes, banks blinking buttons, monitors, and impressive looking racks of circuit boards. He wasn't sure what this thing was, but he knew it wasn't going to be good for him.

"What is this monstrosity? You're not seriously probing me or some shit?" The old man looked up and explained: "This is the most sophisticated machine in human history - so show some respect!" Was he for real? This maniac had just injured, maybe even killed a police officer, kidnapped some innocent bystander, was about to do god knows what to him... and now this?! Seriously?!!

Al needed to calm down! This man had obviously some mental issues, so it wouldn't help to just insult him. What was needed was some diplomacy and politeness. He took a deep breath and said, as calmly as possible: "I'm sorry! It wasn't my intention to be disrespectful! So, let's try again: My name..." - "...is Aldous Bates, I know! Now: Hush!" It was at this point Al was really concerned. Nobody knew his full name, except for his Mom and she'd just chosen it because she'd read Huxley at the time of his birth. He kept it a well hidden secret, because he hated being called Aldous.

"How do you know my real name?" he asked. "Who are you anyway?" The old man couldn't ignore him any longer. He looked at him, deciding what he could tell and for a while neither of them said a word. Then finally: "There's a group of bad people out there - really bad people - and they want to kill you! Not for the man you are, but the man you could become. You see: You're not the one they're searching for, but a mere doorway!" - "And what about you?" The old man pointed at the machine over their heads and just replied: "I'm the doorman!"

With this he ran behind another console to the right of Al and started the machine. Everything above Al began to hum and make a lot of noise. He wasn't sure what would happen, anything at all could happen, and he was frightened to death. "Let me out, you maniac!" The old man ignored his words and, looking at his monitor, mumbled: "Damn, they've killed a lot of you already! I had hoped they'd missed one that could be of any assistance..."

The buzzing noise became louder and louder. Al started to feel dizzy, but he was unsure if it was because of the machine or his growing panic. "Please, stop!!! I'll do anything!!! I'll give you money, I'll g... wu... what is this? Where am I?" His voice had changed. The old man heard it and stopped his machine.

"Where is Emily? What is happening to me?" - "Stay calm, everything is fine, I will answer all your questions! Just tell me: Do you know who you are?" - "My name is Colonel Paul Ad..." the man began, but suddenly reconsidered. "No... wait... I remember now... my name is Professor Aldous Bates... how did I...?" He looked at the man in the shadows. "Hartford?!"

***

Jordan got picked up at the airport by a subordinate, Sanders, who greeted him with a firm "Praise the Lord!" before leading him to his car. On the way to HQ he briefed his superior about the latest developments. "There is some resistance, but the new bill is on its way. Soon there will be a complete ban for all Muslims and other Heathens." - "And plan B?" - "Underway! Cartwright has successfully infiltrated the Pentagon. The codes should be ours in No time!" - "Excellent! What about Holden?" - "He's in hospital right now, with two broken ribs and a mild concussion, no serious damage." - "Has he told the other cops who attacked him?" - "No, sir!" - "Good, the last thing we need are some amateurs standing in our way! And he's sure it was Hartford?" - "Not entirely! But who else would have known about..." He paused.

The nervous look on his face made Jordan suspicious. "Tell me, how exactly DID he find out?" - "Well... erm..." - "Sanders?!" Jordan's voice got cold, threatening. Sanders gulped. He had heard about the General's reputation. He wasn't just a Crusader in the name of the Lord, he was a freakin' psychopath! In an attempt to save his skin Sanders turned right up to the Highway, in hope his superior wouldn't hurt him while driving with full speed.

"We got tipped off Hartford would be in a small motel 3 miles outside of town. It turned out he was prepared for us. He detonated a bomb, not strong enough to kill, but enough to heavily injure our men. He knew exactly what to do!" Jordan took a deep breath, he was really struggling not to lose his temper.

Sanders, a bit hesitant, continued: "That's not all, I'm afraid! He tortured their driver, Donovan. We have no idea what he'd told the Professor, but when we found him he was..." - "What?" - "M... mooing, sir! No idea how he did it, but there was nothing left to send back!" Jordan was honestly surprised and, as he had to admit, intrigued. He would enjoy killing this sick bastard - slowly and painfuly!

Ten minutes later they finally arrived at HQ, an old abandoned Office building. They walked down the halls, passing several people in black Special ops uniforms, all of whom saluted as he passed, shouting "Praise the Lord!". Jordan wasn't interested. He stepped up to Colonel Philips who had been in charge so far, as if to get an answer for the latest occurrences, but before the man could even blink he'd been shot right in-between the eyes.

Philips fell down like a sack of potatoes, his face a smoking crater of burned flesh and blood. No one dared to move a muscle, everyone focussed on Jordan's orders: "Search the system! Give me every little camera you can get, even the tiniest webcam! I want Hartford and Bates, before sunrise! Have. I. Been. Clear?!!" - "YES, SIR!" they shouted in unison. Pointing at Philips he added: "And clean up this mess!"

***

The two scientists sat in Hartford's kitchen and talked over the quiet sound of a nearby radio, playing Rock classics. Bates spoke about how - in his reality - he invented his own version of the MFM to manipulate other people's memories. How he ran from the US government and finally ended up taking the place of a soldier named Paul Adlin. A role his unfortunate counterpart would have to fulfill for now. "My device should still work! As far as he and everyone else is concerned he's still Colonel Paul Adlin. It's just like I'd never left... actually sad, when you think about it..." He tried to distract himself by examining his chubby new body. All that hard training to get fit for duty again and now this...!

During all that Hartford starred in his coffee, trying to digest what he was hearing. He had known how dangerous his research was, yet he'd never thought the Mandela field could be used to manipulate people's memories this way. Maybe it was a mistake to get this version of Professor Bates. On the other hand: He had no choice! He needed any help he could get! "So that's the reason they couldn't find you!" he mumbled. Bates was intrigued: "Who are 'they'? What are you talking about? Why am I here?"

Hartford made a dramatic pause, stood up, turned around, took a deep breath, and facing the viewing window to his mighty Mandela Field Manipulator, he began to tell him the whole story:

"When I invented this machine some years ago, I knew it was too dangerous to tell anyone about it. So I kept it a secret and went on the journey on my own. I visited so many versions of reality, versions of myself. Saw so many things from a different perspective... it was amazing!" He paused. "But then I encountered the AIO - the Agency of Interdimensional Order. Missionaries from a fundamentalistic dimension, driven by the idea to invade other universes, and spread their questionable ideology, destroying everyone who stands in their way.

I saw what they're capable of. The horror of their reign. The wastelands! The labor camps! I tried to stop them, to build a resistance against them. For a while I succeeded, but they were spreading too fast, and I didn't have the time nor the resources to start over and over again in each and every universe I visited. I got help though! In one dimension I encountered another Aldous Bates, a freedom fighter. The bravest man I had ever met... We were a good team, for a while. Together we worked on a way to modify the Mandela Field Manipulator, so it neutralizes the Mandela Field, but they killed him before we were able to finish it. And every counterpart of him they could find, so I was unable to team up with one of them again.

Now they've finally reached my world and tried to get this world's Bates too. So I had no time to lose! I barely rescued him, I had to kidnap the poor guy and place him onto this chair. No time for explanations! I had to find you, because..." Just now Bates realized why his colleague was facing away from him: He was crying! He had done everything in his power to fight these people and now that they'd reached his world, he was finally out of options. Bates was the last straw of hope he could cling to!

Bates himself was speechless. He knew how bad things were. Even in his own world he'd heard rumors about a soldier who had got caught hacking the Pentagon for launch codes and couldn't remember anything afterwards. The strange thing was that he hadn't even been properly trained in IT. He could barely handle Excel. Now that Bates knew about the AIO the whole thing made much more sense. Also the recent changes in governmental behavior. The sudden racist comments from people who'd dedicated their lives to help others. They'd been infiltrated - literally!

Bates considered what that meant for his world. Specially for his... for Adlin's family. For Burt. For Emily. Even if he helped Hartford finish his work somehow, there was no way he could save them. If he returned he wouldn't remember any of this, just be Adlin again. Hartford was dead in his reality, so they couldn't swap places either. And anyone else was hard to trust these days. It was clear to him Hartford's solution would just work on this world he was currently in - and only this world!

His eyes fell from Hartford, to his half emptied cup of Tea that began to get cold. Meanwhile the kitchen radio was playing some old tracks by Jimi Hendriks. Bates would've barely noticed, hadn't it been for some irritating Guitar feedbacks. Suddenly he had an idea, and he was sure Hartford wouldn't like it...

***

While inspecting the facility Jordan was surprised to see his old partner in crime, Lieutenant Sarah Hayle. One of the few crusaders not afraid of him and a trusted ally during many many operations. He never thought of her as attractive though. She was always more the masculine type and in one instance, she'd even occupied the body of a man. He'd barely noticed the change back then.

But this time it was different! This time she was hot, had more curves than the streets of Monaco, long blond hair instead of her otherwise shaven head and eyes like the holy Madonna herself. This feelings irritated him and he tried to avoid her. Yet he couldn't get her out of his head, even at the Evening mass. So he called her to his office, told her he couldn't focus on his task and that there was only one way to fix this problem. She agreed. In a way, she always waited for a moment like this.

Under other circumstances they would have thought of protection, but these weren't actually their bodies, so who cared if she got pregnant! They had to kill the hosts afterwards anyway. He would've to cleanse, to flagellate himself though. And Sarah, that sexy beast too! On the other hand: His family was rich! They could easily afford to sacrifice some of their slaves to appease the Lord.

Jordan enjoyed their hot, sweaty, moaning bodies colliding in ecstasy. Three times to be precise. It was a sinful, but most pleasurable endeavor. He was about to come a forth time when they're disturbed by a knock at the door. Jordan tried to sound calm: "What is it? I'm busy!" It was Sanders: "Excuse me, Sir, but we got Bates! We found him in front of his house, waving a white flag!" - "Waving WHAT?!!" This was rather unexpected "Shall we...?" - "Bring him in! Maybe he knows where to find Hartford!"

Half an hour later he sat face-to-face with Bates in their improvised Interrogation room. His opponent was a chubby guy in his 40s, a nerd judging by his sloppy clothes. Yet his face was in sheer contrast to his appearance. These eyes were confident, had seen conflict, that much was sure. Something was odd here and Jordan was determined to find out more about this strange person, before breaking each and every bone in his body.

"So, Mister Bates!" he started. "Let's make it simple: Where is Hartford?" Bates, a bit battered by the AIO agents, grinned calmly and answered: "I would tell you! But then, what keeps you from killing me?" - "Oh, you will die, rest assured! The only question is: How?" - "Of old age I would hope!" Jordan laughed. "No chance!" - "What if I told you I'm on your side?" Jordan replied sarcastically: "Oh, are you now?! Well, in this case just tell us where to find Hartford and I might show some mercy - using a knife instead of a spoon!" Bates' grin got brighter. "I knew you would need some convincing! Just tell me: When was the last time you had contact with your Home world?"

This question surprised Jordan, who began to stare at his opponent, as if to see behind the curtain of his unexpected play. Bates looked back at him, seemingly unimpressed. For a few seconds none of them said a word. Until Jordan stood up and left the room. He ran down the corridor and met up with Sergeant Dorn, who was assigned to build a bridge between their world and this one. He ordered Dorn to activate the device on his wrist that should bring him right back to his body. According to protocol Dorn had to be restrained by the guards, to keep the host in check as soon as he resurfaced, but Jordan insisted he proceed immediately! Dorn, a little startled, did as he was told. He pressed the button... but it didn't work! Everyone in the room was speechless.

This turn of events disturbed Jordan. He ran back to the Interrogation room, drew his gun, aimed at Bates and demanded to know what had happened. Bates calmly explained: "Hartford was working on a way to modify his MFM, so it neutralizes the Mandela field. To keep you folks out of this world. He had some problems getting it done and kidnapped me to help him finish it. Which I did!" This revelation seemed not helpful for his case. Jordan was about to pull the trigger, when he realized: "We're still here! You said Hartford tried to get rid of us, why would he trap us here then?" - "Well, it wasn't his intention - it was mine!" - "Why?" - "Because, as I said, I'm on your side! I knew you wouldn't believe me, so I needed a bargaining chip: I'm the only one who can undo Hartford's efforts! If you want to leave this world, you need my help!"

Jordan warily asked: "Why should I trust you?" Bates got dead-serious and looked him deep in the eyes: "I've seen some really messed up shit in the past. Death and destruction, crimes against humanity in the name of a corrupt, godless government. There is no real order, no honor... I'm sick of it! I have enough! I was about to loose hope, when Hartford told me about you. Who you are, what you believe in... I saw an opportunity to change all this for the better. But I found myself already on the wrong side, so I had no other choice than to set things up as they are now. Give me a chance! Let me be a part of this and I promise you won't regret it!" - "We don't need your help!" Bates leaned forward, so the gun touched his forehead, and replied: "Then kill me, here and now! And live with the consequences!"

Jordan was baffled. He saw no fear in his prisoner's eyes, it seemed his words were sincere. Slowly he lowered his gun. "Alright! One chance! But I warn you: If you try to trick us you WILL regret the day you were born!" With this he left the room, to brief his staff about the next steps. They would get this son of a bitch Hartford and with this end the Resistance once and for all.

***

Hartford had taken a nap on the sofa in the kitchen. He'd worked a lot the last few days and was in desperate need for some sleep. Suddenly one of his Monitors began to beep. He woke up, looked at it and discovered Bates standing in front of the Warehouse. He stood up to let him back in.

With the push of a button a huge Garage door opened and offered a good view to the surrounding area: A mostly abandoned Industrial district outside of town, the night sky red from light pollution. Bates just stood there and, to Hartford's big surprise, held a gun in his right hand. "Bates? What's that supposed to mean?" - "Keep your hands up, where I can see them!" With his left hand he pressed a button in his ear and said: "Go!"

Hartford was horrified to see a couple of black vans arriving, heavily armed AIO agents jumping out of them, some of them coming over to cuff him up. The good professor was so overwhelmed by the events, he could hear his own heartbeat, from the adrenaline pumping through his veins. "You betrayed me!" he muttered in disbelief. "For them! After all I've told you..." Jordan was the last to enter the Warehouse. With a grim smile he looked down at the elderly Scientist, and after teasing him a bit, kicked him in the head with his heavy boots.

The kick left Hartford with a long gash that was bleeding all over his face. Bates had to remind Jordan not to kill him, because they still might need his help with the Machine. His new superior agreed and two of his men carried Hartford, while everyone was following Bates to the MFM.

Once they neared the controls, Bates explained what to do next: "Too reestablish the connection we need a lot of energy. More than this machine alone has to offer. Fortunately we have an advantage: You!" He pointed at Jordan and his men. "If we use this machine to send one of you back to his own body, that's already connected to your MFM, we generate an Energy feedback loop between them, strong enough to reconstitute the Mandela field to its former glo..." He was interrupted by sudden laughter.

It was Hartford. Jordan gave him another hit and demanded to know what's so funny about that. Hartford, spitting blood replied: "It won't work! The decay of the Field is far too advanced at this point! Sure, you may be able to send ONE back, but the Field will most definitely collapse behind him, leaving the rest of you stranded here - forever!" The AIO agents began to look at each other. Jordan turned to Bates, furious: "Is that true?" For the first time it seemed Bates had become a little nervous. "Well... according to my calculations we have a chance of 80 % to succeed!" - "Pah! 30 at best!" interrupted him Hartford. Bates glanced at him in anger.

Jordan looked around. He knew his men had friends and family back home, but he was the highest ranking officer and the choice was his. "I'll go!" he decided. It was not a hard choice. There was no chance he would let himself get trapped in this universe of savages. While approaching the MFM he passed Sarah, who looked at him with glassy eyes, hiding her disappointment. He loved her, the sex was breathtaking. But compared to him she was nothing and if she thought otherwise, it was about time she woke up!

Seconds later he sat under Hartford's Mandela Field Manipulator. A primitive design compared to theirs, but it would do the trick. Sergeant Dorn was instructed to assist Bates with the adjustments, to enter the exact coordinates and also to keep an eye on him. He had lost the little bit of trust he had in Bates and his men were instructed to kill both scientists as soon as everything was over.

The MFM turned on. The familiar buzzing sound was spreading through the room. Jordan took a last long look at his men, recognizing the huge disappointment behind their brave facade. He felt no remorse. He was better than all of them! It was his God given right, his privilege toOOOAAAAAA... what was thaAAAAAA... he felt a sudden tingling sensation in his head. Something was wrong! Something...

Jordan Greenwald was a bit baffled. The last thing he remembered was him lying at the Pool, watching J.J. inflate his air mattress. Now he was... what was this place? "Kate?!! Where am I? What's happening to me?" He saw a bunch of men, soldiers, heavily armed, aiming at two other men. One old, beaten up. One a bit younger, chubbier. "No wait!" the latter yelled.

The tingling sensation came back, and so was General Greenwald: "Stop, somethin... don't shooOOOOOt... ong with the MaAAAAAAA... Argh, my heaAAAAAAA..." He and his counterpart were switching places, over and over again, faster and faster. Luckily enough his men realized what happened before they could execute Bates and Hartford. Dorn yelled at them: "What have you done?!!"

Hartford and Bates smiled. "Exactly what I told you I would do!" said Bates. "I created a Feedback loop between your MFM and ours." Hartford took over: "This, of course, generates a massive energy surge that's about to overload the system. Which means both of our machines are about to blow up in a huge explosion. And with them each and every AIO agent currently connected on your side. Ending all invasions of yours, all around the Multiverse - in an instant!" Suddenly the floor began to shake and sparks of lightning came out of the Mandela Field Manipulator.

Bates continued: "That should leave quite a crater! Of course, your machine must be much much bigger than ours, to process so many people at the same time!" - "The radius of the explosion should be the size of... what do you think, Bates? Manhattan?!" - "New York!" - "City?!" - "State!!"

Sergeant Dorn began to panic and raised his weapon to shoot at the MFM, so he could hopefully stop the process. However before he was able to pull the trigger, he was gone and replaced by the rightful owner of his host body. And so was anyone else. The AIO was gone and all what's left was a bunch of ordinary people who had no idea what had happened to them and why they were dressed like a SWAT team.

Neither of them had time to think about it though, because the giant machine in front of them was bursting into flames, about to blow up any second. Hartford ordered everyone to run for their lives. "What about him?" he was asked, referring to Jordan who was still sitting in the chair, seemingly having some sort of stroke, in reality constantly shifting between the two versions of himself. Faster and faster, until both their minds occupied the same place at once and overwhelmed his brain. Bates replied there was nothing they could do!

At this point the both Jordans became one. And remembered two lives. A life in luxury, with distant, cold parents and cult-like teachings. A life of hard work and a loving family. A life of meaningless sex and murder in the name of a false god. A life full of joy, happiness and meaning. He remembered arriving in this world. Murdering J.J., drowning him in the pool. Stabbing Kate with a knife in cold blood. Leaving them without any remorse. And it broke him!

The last man had barely made it out of the warehouse when the machine finally blew up, vaporizing a good chunk of the building. Everyone starred at the burning remains, still puzzled about what just had happened. Both the men that could have answered their questions were gone. They'd just escaped in one of the black vans.

***

The sun was rising. A new day had begun. Hartford looked at Bates, who was driving them far far away from all this. The threat of the AIO was over, but Bates knew from experience how important it was to get a head start now from the government. "You're still here, aren't you, Bates!" - "Seems that way!" - "How is this possible?"

"The microchip!" Bates replied, pointing at his neck. Hartford had done some modifications to amplify its field, to hinder the AIO agents from leaving this world. To trick them into believing what Bates had told them was true. In reality the two Scientists hadn't even started their efforts to neutralize the Mandela field. Instead they followed Bates' dangerous, but nonetheless ingenious plan B, to get one of those bastards into the machine and create the destructive Feedback loop.

Bates continued: "You've warned me that stunt would drain the batteries. In the end, I could feel it! Dragging me back, slowly but surely. Then suddenly, when the Feedback loop happened, there was this strange tingling and ever since I feel even more present then before." - "You mean...?" - "A complete Mind swap!" Which meant he would keep this body and his counterpart was bound to stay Colonel Paul Adlin forever. "I don't pity him!" said Bates. "It was a good life! And a wonderful family!" He was glad, but also a bit sad about this.

Hartford rubbed his shoulder and for a while, nobody spoke a word. Bates thought about his past, all the things that had happened. When he found out about the Mandela Field, how he invented his machine, ran from the government and the years he'd spent as Adlin, with his beloved husband Burt and his daughter Emily.

"What now?" he asked. "What shall we do next?" - "Rebuild the MFM of course!" Hartford suggested. "It's the only way to be sure we truly got rid of those bastards!" - "But we can't use it! They've killed most of our counterparts!" - "In this case we have to recruit some people, I guess. But it's your choice! You could alternately turn back and live an ordinary life again." - "No, I'm in!" he grinned. And Hartford was glad he accepted his offer.

***

Shortly after the returned senators scheduled an emergency meeting and distanced themselves from their strange behavior over the last weeks. In the meantime there were massive investigations underway to figure out what had just happened. They found traces of a huge conspiracy all, found the missing people from the exploded warehouse and that there'd been a huge machine of some sorts. But its exact purpose, and who that other men were that had escaped, was still a complete mystery.

Months later. A serious looking, pale man named Agent Hanson walked down the corridors of a Top Secret Medical Facility. He stopped at door 19, and without knocking, entered the room. In an old hospital bed, wrapped in bandages like a mummy, he found the heavily burned stranger they had salvaged from the remains of that ominous warehouse. Hanson approached him. The man still smelled like burned flesh, which the agent tried his best to ignore.

He tried to question the man again, without result. He refused to talk. As always. After ten minutes Hanson gave up. He stood up, about to go, when he remembered something he was told by one of his colleagues. Maybe... it was worth a shot! He turned around and told the man about one of the people that had rescued him. That couldn't remember what had happened to them. One of them, a young secretary named Sarah Hayle got impregnated at the time of her blackout. "You wouldn't know, by any change, who's the father?"

The man said no word, but Hanson recognized the glassy look in his eyes: He knew something! "Anyway, she's thinking about abortion! Understandable under this circumstances, don't you think?" Hanson turned around to leave once more. "Wait!" he heard the man whimper. Hanson smiled.