B-12

The electronic voice droned on about childhood of the youngest child of the Magus family who would one day grow so popular that he would shame everyone with Magus in their name into hiding, but Min wasn't really listening. Something was nagging at the back of his head, something important that he had seen but was yet to realise the meaning of. And strangely enough, the electronic voice was pushing him deeper into his head.

And then, he heard it.

"Porto wasn't one to simply accept a place in the shadow of his brighter brothers."

"Stop," he ordered.

And there was silence.

He knew what it was. What he heard. What he saw. What he missed.

The shadow.

He closed his eyes and the previous page filled his eyes inside his head. He saw the manifesto in clear, bold letters, floating on the grey wall with the brown bricks. It wasn't obvious because he was seeing from much too close. He pulled back until the page was the size of a portrait floating in front of him. At that size and from that distance, it was clear. The entire page was as if under a tall shadow.

He remembered his words from the document.

They are friends. You can trust them. You can call them the shadows.

"I know you," he said to the white circle.

A few seconds passed, and the answer came.

"Yes."

It was the same electronic voice, but there was something.

Fool.

He cursed at himself. It was obvious. He had seen it. And yet, was so blind to it.

The letters were the same, yet different because of the tiny imperfections. They were there because the letters weren't written by human hand. They were there to guide him.

The electronic voice had tiny imperfections too. There were syllables that sounded different, that had feeling, that couldn't be non-biological. And they too were deliberate.

Even more importantly, the irregularity of imperfections meant that he was speaking to a person. That was what had been nagging at him.

"You know me?" He asked.

"Yes," came the answer, in a voice that sounded electronic but was unmistakably human.

"I'm Min," he said, hesitantly.

"I know," was the unhesitant answer.

"You are?"

"Men."

"Are you serious?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes," came the answer in the same voice sans hesitation.

"You know what is going on."

It was a statement.

"Yes," was the confirmation. "You are confused. Let me help you. Yes, this was deliberate. Yes, you deleted your memories yourself. I got you Sia's Blank. The program by itself wasn't of use for our purpose for it wasn't designed to act on biological intelligence. We had help. I borrowed a friend's gate. We made it happen. Yes, it was all a part of your plan. And no, I am not aware of the plan. Our relationship has always been clear. You draw up the plans. I get you what you need and monitor implementation. You told me you would arrive here. And this would be the beginning."

He nodded. He needed a moment to process the surge of information. Everything made sense. It did seem like him. And Men truly seemed a friend.

"What now?" He asked.

A window opened next to the circle, showing the feed from the cameras around the outside of the library. It showed Sia, walking with purpose toward the building.

"You need to leave," came the answer in the unfeeling voice that was suddenly anything but unfeeling. "See the map. Head to the old library. We setup a bunk on the third story, on the corner of the south east. Head down to the first story, hide behind the Econ books until Sia walks up. And then rush out, silently. Start now."

He committed to memory the map that appeared on the other side of the circle with a glance. Superimposed it upon the map of the academy he had already saved to memory, and charted the path to the old library. Committed Men's directions to memory. And started off when Men asked him to.

He had only taken the first step when the screen went blank and then disappeared. He rushed down and stepped behind the rack bearing the Econ books just as Sia walked in. She walked past him without turning her eyes away from the stairs, and walked up with certainty. As she disappeared onto the upper story, he slipped out of the building.

It was a seventeen minute walk to the old library along the circuitous path. Wasn't the shortest but was the safest with the least number of cameras to avoid and providing the most cover behind bushes and under trees. He was walking faster than the pace he was most comfortable with, yet it took twenty three minutes. It was only now that he realised how good he was at counting even the time. He didn't miss a second.

He took a deep breath, and disappeared into the decrepit building.