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irony - perhaps only in a place like this, on the battlefield and in anyone's military academy really cared who he was and what he was like, and could pass for anyone, and that gave him certain advantages.

Sasia looked at him puzzled obviously understanding his train of thought.

- When a man loses himself, he needs to go somewhere. That's first and foremost. The depth of his feelings didn't matter. Friends don't either - they're just companions in this world, and sometimes in the next.

- "You need to stop thinking about shit," she encouraged him. "It's bigger than you. Don't mow. You won't change. Just accept it and that's it. Look you've come this far."

- "So I'm a dead man alive," Mark muttered, "if I have to hide in a place like this, we've become so few close friends. That's the truth."

- "Look, I'm not going to leave you," Sasia rubbed her shoulders somewhat lightly, and in her gaze he met friendly concern. "You're like a brother to me. What we've been through together makes us stronger, doesn't it? Don't you ever forget it. Never! Why do you have to carry someone else's pain on your shoulders? Doesn't that bring relief! The road to Calvary is a strange one, but we must each walk it in our own strength.," she shook his shoulders.

- "You're right," the former hero encouraged himself.

- "Zorin is lost somewhere, but I have no idea where he might be," Mark voiced his concerns. "We need to find him. I've called Durnyam as well. He'll be along in a moment."

CONSCIOUSNESS

CHAPTER FIVE: CONSCIOUSNESS

 

"The deep neurophysiological scars of consciousness are not yet fully known."

Unknown author

 

Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn, however, did not quite agree with this statement. In his lectures on anthropology and General neuroscience, he had a very different perspective on the matter. A very special and almost irrefutable one. He had figured out that with certain processing in his special lab, Zegandarian children could summon terrible monsters into our world. This of course was done by the thalamus, which was responsible for conscious reactions. In a dream state they could contact the afterlife and transcend certain forbidden places. Since sleep, as we well know, is a special form of semi-consciousness this was not impossible. The "Gate of Dreams" was not closed as many thought with the elementary reasoning of disinterested bums accustomed to the new well-regulated and secure social system that provided their livelihood.

In so-called cybernetic sleep, unsuspected brain functions were being unleashed that under normal circumstances remained dormant. People could go on a rampage or go straight into a waking coma, but they retained particular activity in certain parts of their brain. And that was what the ingenious doctor was counting on.

He had graduated from Nal Rhys Moon, a special high-security lyceum in Embodzan, a new small suburb of Imgradon where the most impressive medics in this part of the Galaxy were trained. The selection to enter there was downright murderous, but he succeeded and became the most celebrated neurologist doctor in the entire Star System. His knowledge was vast. His deep drive was to cross the forbidden boundaries of consciousness and unlock unsuspected powers that could also be disastrous. This was what attracted him and drove his feet towards the Otherworld. That was the name given to all that lay beyond the edge of the explored universe. But what lurked there no one knew! Some called it the Voice, others the Most High, and still others simply the Thing. But this absolute indeterminacy inspired only fear. Fear primal and inexplicable. Fear that could have grown into murderous terror.

Death can take many forms, but few had faced its true face. Few had dared to read the incantations of Sacklin, a great and not-so-loved mad genius who had died not of old age or madness, but killed by this same Thing.

Gad ‘Di Enn had been doing neuroscience for most of his conscious life, and felt no particular form of satisfaction when he had to answer questions like how to get at this Thing. How does a planet keep its morale high and struggling to survive in a state of economic crisis. Somewhere in there, deep down, he knew that this same Thing was looking for a way to connect with the souls of the people of this world, and it would be an honor for him to make such a scientific "breakthrough". The Doctor, however, suffered from a small complex - underappreciated by his colleagues as a plagiarist and pseudo-scientist with insufficient originality, he was classified as a technocrat. In his own mind, darkness had crept into one part of his brain and he clearly understood that he would succumb. This was his only chance to be noticed and become a Thing. Maybe he was supposed to become its servant.

Hans' teachings, as his writings were known, were nothing more than an initial guide to help him in his research. He knew he had to tread carefully. He wanted to be a true innovator for once - even at the cost of his life. Where, pray tell, was he going to get a second chance like that? The various ravings of various post-modern doctrines came to him in excess, he felt nauseous even at the thought of them. His conscious chance for advancement was just that. But he didn't want to take such a huge risk all alone - he needed the help of Kazuk Mon, a powerful psychic who had developed his abilities to unsuspected heights. He was going to do something significant - to face his fears and erase so many shameful stains from his existence.

He had personally been involved in two murders of high-ranking doctors who wanted to perform autopsies on several of the children who served as subjects for his dirty experiments. That was his first major crime. The second was luring the Archmistress of Synthros to his side. Although he had concentrated a vast and impressive amount of power in his hands, it was impossible to pass over lightly his strength and deep confidence that he would become his indispEnsable assistant. Yes it was also through him that he exerted pressure on Kazuk Mon and his sect that threatened to overwhelm the planet.

- Hans, dear Hans, you have opened my eyes. Something tells me you're not dead - just because you're gone from Our World doesn't mean you're gone at all. Not in the least. You've just passed into another form and consciousness. Your notes may prove invaluable,“ he uttered, locked in his filthy hospital ward. There, there was no doubt, he felt in his own waters. So aware was he that death lurked around every corner. So sure was he of the rightness of his path that he just seemed to lose patiEnce at times.

- "Doctor, they're calling you in for surgery," one of the nurses bellowed on a frenetic note. "You have no time to waste. You must come immediately!"

It was a case that could not be delayed. A particular form of biopsy[5] that required experienced hands. The causes of the insanity of one of his specially treated children had to be discovered. Something in his neurons had malfunctioned and his brain had given out 'short'.

- "Looks like a simple reimplantation of memories," he had said.

- "Why don't you just engage some of the available assistants in the ward? I can't waste my time with these cases," but he suddenly softened his tone and realised he had to be careful.

- "Where are they?," he asked impatiently. "I want to see them at once!"

For a little he might have brought suspicion upon himself, and that was not desirable.

He went to the operating-room and looked round at the dying. It was obvious that someone's inexperienced hand had touched their narenzianan chips and damaged them so that they would not be so easy to idеntify. The embedded Peosian integrated circuits in their brains also looked strange.

"That's the first time I've seen anything like that!," the doctor blurted out to himself. "Chills crawl up my back even thinking about what exactly they were looking for. The serial numbers on the circuit boards appear to be from our manufacturing facility in Embodzan. Just awful."

Then he remembered a Schiller’s poem:

"Who would wish for shadows to enjoy, With which the essence of strangeness receives an appearance. And cheat thee hope with false power? To behold the truth naked I will!"[6]

In these words he seemed to find much more meaning just now. It was something new. An unfamiliar sense of clarity and insight.

He performed all the routine procedures and somehow found himself in a peculiar situation, as he could not tell the exact cause of death. The case bore the marks of several different illnesses and even frankly resembled schizophrenia. This was rather trivial, as the peos integrated circuits were anything but causative of this kind of illness. Apparently things were getting quite peculiar.

Archibald Peos was the original discoverer of the chips in question - they'd even engraved his name somewhere around the outskirts of Emus Nor, the new district of the rich in Imgradon.

"Why is there an unsolvable mystery before my eyes, and I can clearly sense that the answer is somewhere close!"

The doctor's assistant Ursula von der Lan was always by her boss's side. Many could not pronounce her strange name, which seemed to have some noble tinge. But no nobility ever flourished in front of people like the doctor! That was the law! Somewhere deep in the nothingness, the fates of all his subordinates were intertwined - they had one mission, namely, a breakthrough in the name of science. So many different people had stopped and poked their heads in the very place where they had already paved the way for other inquiring minds. But now the problem at hand was to see who was behind the grisly murders. The summoned ghost warrior survivors weren’t specialized in exactly this sort of activity - they were trained in sabotage and instant enemy defeat, as well as counterintelligence - but that had to be done here by a specialist in exactly those matters - a medic and a detective at the same time.

They couldn't find anyone for a long time, but finally, settled on Edward Boss, a dirty and arrogant bastard hailing from the suburbs. A small and evil man who knew well what it meant to get the job done on time.

Boss was up to his ears in credits due to his excessive greed and insolence. He was a hell of a bastard, as if he had come out of hell. You just couldn't blame him, but he was definitely a great professional.

After the autopsy was performed, Gad ‘Di Enn invited him into her office and offered him a seat.

He naturally accepted and looked somewhat quizzically at the doctor from under his ruddy eyebrows. He thought any new order was utter nonsense and didn't hang around the wreckage of Imgradon's former quarters like Enzok Ra, for example. He despised parvenues, and the Doctor seemed to belong to that caste. But there was a common interest between them - and that was to catch the killer, or at least some clue.

The real reason, though, was that he vaguely suspected that this assassin had been sent

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