Metropolitan Magic - Gabe Lorden of Philly, Pa

A story about a technologically advanced world in chaos, where magic is persecuted and feared. When a teenage boy named Lorden is caught practicing his magic alone, he is arrested and taken to his death. Will he manage to escape?

Lorden

Prologue

Lorden was hunkered down, in a dark alley, concealed by a grubby wheelie bin and he was practicing magic.

If his guardian knew where he was, she'd be phoning him up on his PI straight away. But thankfully he'd used a cloaking spell so she couldn't track him. She'd just think he'd turned it off.

He was leaning against the crumbling wall of a tumbledown Accommodation Block, his green eyes obscured by his shock of raven hair. It was a cold night; ice was crystallizing on the old wheelie bin opposite him, but the pungent smell of rotting rubbish still perforated the frigid air. His friends had just left for their own houses - he could hear their voices fading away, insignificant in the bowels of the city of brotherly love. 

Lorden had told none of them about his ability. Everyone knew what had happened when the Compliance Teams had caught up with Alo Parkin the other day, when he had been reported controlling fireworks with magic. But Lorden wasn't scared - no-one was bringing him to ground.

He shot a small fireball at a crumpled crisp packet on the floor beside him, half filled with moldy crisps. He watched with mild amusement as the crisps inside crackled angrily as the flames devoured them.

It hadn't been all too long ago that he had discovered his powers. Luckily, no-one had been there. He had been angry with his guardian, who he simply knew as Aunt - he had been yelling at her for searching his PI for incriminating texts - he had gestured violently, and the telescreen behind her had blown up, singeing her vase of fake flowers on the sideboard. She had been annoyed - Lorden knew she still suspected him, but that did not matter - she had no proof.

The crisp packet had congealed into a mangled blob on the floor before him. He raised his hand carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration ... and the blob wobbled ... it rocked ... and it rose into the air.

Concentrating harder now ... he raised his hand and pointed at the nearest plasma lamp. It went out with a pop but the crisp packet fell to the floor ...

... and then he heard footsteps. Getting to his feet, Lorden watched as an Officer of the Red Lamp District Compliance Team emerged at the entrance to the alleyway, his silhouette sharp and threatening in the shadow of the brightly-lit main street.

RedLamp District Compliance Team 

At once, Lorden began to back away, even as the Compliance Team Officer shouted "Stop, magician!"

By now, Lorden knew he would have activated his GPS alarm. The Compliance Team would know exactly where he was and what he was.

Instead of running on to the left or right, Lorden dived out of sight behind another wheelie bin. The CTO came forwards cautiously, his rushlight scanning greedily for any sign of the boy. Lorden could easily hear his gruff breathing over the thrum of the levs in the main street.

As the CTO's rushlight came sweeping behind the wheelie, Lorden dived from cover, tackling the CTO's legs before he could be tased. Caught by surprise, the CTO fell to the ground, his rushlight cutting out in a muddy puddle, even as the sirens announced the arrival of police levs in the street not one hundred yards away.

Lorden turned wildly, desperate for an escape route - more CTOs were tramping down the back alleys from all sides, tasers drawn, ready to fire their red plasma bolts at him - and they would not stun, but kill, for the Compliance Teams of Dartoc-6 never showed mercy with magicians and too right, the red blasts of tasers set to kill mode were soon scything down the alleys, throwing eerie spots onto the damp walls and illuminating the copper pipes on the wall of the warehouse. Lorden ran down the one unmanned alley, the one that ended in a dead end and the CTOs followed him slowly, almost lazily, knowing there was no escape. Lorden's mind was racing - they would string him up, torture him, kill him slowly and painfully, blindfold him and bind his hands so there would be no casting magic to save himself.

And Lorden panicked. And he waved his hand crazily, his thoughts spinning out of control and his mouth fell open as the nearest CTO was blasted off his feet, backwards down the alley, into his fellows, who were knocked flat on their heels. Lorden ran to pick up his dropped taser, and let loose a siphon of plasma bolts which ricocheted around in the narrow space then solid bullets came plinking in his direction. Riot teams were here as well, spraying the corridor with machine-gun fire. Lorden dived away again and sprinted into the next street.

CTO

He completely overlooked the CTO hiding in an alcove. Before he could react he was punched full-on in the skull, which then bashed into the wall opposite. Head spinning in pain and confusion, he put his hand out to break his fall and it landed in a pool of oil, which immediately caught fire - his magic was slipping out of his control - the control he had been so carefully honing and then the flames sped across the petroleum, like some sick, giant fuse from the Ancient western movies - straight to its source, a discarded fuel tank from which it had been spilt. Without thinking, Lorden raised his hands in defence - miraculously, a magical shield was flung up in front of him - but the CTO wasn't so lucky. He was thrown off his feet in a punch of hot air, as the tank exploded, blowing a hole into the side of the wheelie bin.

Lorden collapsed to his knees, suddenly drained. HIs unintentional magic had cost him dearly. The vision of a CTO's shiny boots flickered before him before he blacked out.

Lorden came to.

It was as he had suspected. He was blindfolded, bound and gagged. All the ways anyone had known to work magic were denied him.

Lorden Arrested by the Redlight District Fingerman

His face was pressed against a hard stone surface which he presumed was the floor of wherever he was locked up. His shoulders ached from being pulled behind him by the handcuffs, and there was something sticky on his cheek which he assumed was blood.

He had not been trying to sit up for long before there was a crash of steel on stone. The door of the cell had clearly been thrown open. Lorden heard hurried footsteps and felt rough hands seize his shoulders and bundle him out of the room into the corridor.

Lorden tried to speak, but only mumbles came out, and he was hit, hard, in the face by a callused fist.

"Shut up, vermin," growled a rough voice, gripping his shoulder tighter.

Lorden sighed inwardly - clearly they thought he was going to attempt and cast a spell. How ignorant they were ... as if mere words, simple sounds, could affect the flow of magic?

No ... Lorden had been practicing for this moment for months. Being able to work magic with only his mind.

It was something that the CT didn't think could be done - and something they would be unable to prevent anyway.

But before he could even begin to concentrate, he was shoved unceremoniously into a chair, and he heard the door boom closed behind him, like a death drum. His blindfold and gag were ripped off, and at that moment the barrel of a taser was pressed threateningly into the back of his neck.

"One wrong move, boy," snapped the rough voice, "and we'll see exactly how much of your blood is vaporized by one of these plasma bolts."

Lorden sat stock still, keeping his eyes deliberately unfocused. He saw a man take a seat in the chair opposite him. As his face came into focus, Lorden saw a grubby beard, long shaggy hair and a weathered face with hawklike eyes, which were fixed unblinkingly on him.

"So," said the man silkily. "What street rat have you roped in today, Grimwald?"

"One that's already killed three CTOs, sergeant," said the man holding the gun to Lorden's neck.

"What?" Lorden protested. "I didn't -"

"Quiet, scum!" barked Grimwald, and he felt the barrel increase its pressure on his neck.

Grimwald

"Is this all you've brought me here, so you can have your moment of glory?" Lorden pressed relentlessly. "This isn't justice, this is -"

But Grimwald had hit him hard over the head with the taser, sending Lorden's mind spinning again.

"You've already been told, your words count for naught in Derven," said the sergeant coldly. "You expect to be given a fair trial, when you know the laws on magic and eyewitnesses saw you attacking a whole group of -"

But Lorden was already letting the words wash over him, gathering his mind. He tried to imagine his power building up behind a massive dam, a dam only he could remove.

"- well let me tell you something, squirt. You won't get anything of a fair hearing round here, you don't deserve -"

The dam opened a sluice gate. At once, Lorden felt the spark of magic as his handcuffs fell open and the taser flew through the air into the corner of the room. Now the torrent was becoming a flood - Lorden blasted Grimwald out of the way and sprinted for the door - it was locked, and now the sergeant was approaching - Lorden jabbed forward with his mind and with a small phut the door came open -

- and a tripwire he had missed brought him crashing to the ground. The Compliance Team had taken no chances in allowing his escape. Lorden leapt to his feet as more officers came round the corner.

And then, to his complete surprise, there was a burst of return fire. Solid bullets were pinging off the walls, and the CTOs dived for cover like a flock of frightened sheep. Lorden turned sharply, and watched as twenty or so black-clad men came running towards him. He backed away -

"Stop! We're here to help you!"

Several CTOs had been killed; they were sprawled on the ground, dismally creating a pool of blood in the middle of the corridor. Lorden shot a few weak fireballs in their direction but missed - one of his rescuers grabbed him by the arm and pulled him round the corner and into a side room -

"Get off me!" said Lorden angrily, as the cupboard door slammed shut behind him.

"For tech's sake, mate, shut it, or you'll get us killed."

Lorden could see nothing except a chink of light, beyond which the fraught battle could still be heard.

"Who are you?" he demanded in a low whisper.

"No time, we need to get out of -"

"Come on, time to go!" roared a voice from the corridor, and the two of them broke cover, sprinting for an emergency exit.

Lorden sprinted out of the door, following the black-clad men, but CTOs were spilling out of the building. Crossfires of plasma bolts laced the night, and two of the men were knocked down -

- but a hovering lev was waiting not a hundred yards from the entrance, out of sight of the CTOs. Obviously this was the place he was intended to go - Lorden jumped hastily into the back and was followed by the others, who piled in and slammed the tail door with a hiss and a click. The lev moved off smoothly, the plasma bolts crackling on its shell and causing its internal lights to flicker fretfully.

Lorden sat up stiffly, watching the station move silently away out of the lev's window. Then he turned to see a knife, aimed at his Adam's apple.

He sighed.
  Really -  now a knife? 
  He couldn't remember the last thing he'd eaten. He knew he should have been concentrating on the menacing glimmer rippling down the silver metal, or the rough and rugged edge to the blade, or the dirty hand, wrapped in muscle, gripping the hilt. But no; all he could think about was a big slab of beef just like Aunt made, with a tiny sliver of pink just visible in the middle, accompanied by a doughy and crispy yorkshire pudding, heaps of fresh-picked vegetables and slatherings of rich gravy...he licked his lips in half-hearted hope, glancing around, as though magically he could think food into existence.
  No such luck. Not only was that impossible - food could not be magicked out of thin air - but licking his lips had aggravated his part-time saviour, part-time kidnapper.
"What do you think you're smiling at?" the words came in a growl - the blade pressed against his throat.
  Lorden hissed. That sharp, stinging feeling of drawn blood lit  up his throat. 
  "Don't kill the boy," a sharp, high female voice rang throughout the atmosphere with the unmistakable air of authority. "We need him"
  Need him?
  "Oh I don't know..." the knifer's voice rasped. Because of the way he was being held, he could not see his face - he was pressed against a wall, the knifer's body against his, staring over his shoulder. He could feel the sweaty, matted mane of hair against his face, and smell the dirt and canker. He felt slightly ill.
  "You think it's going to work without one of them?" The female snapped sharply. Lorden opened his eyes - he'd shut them to concentrate on not vomiting - to see a figure stirring in the corner of his eye. He could just see a figure rising from a seat...
  Then he realized something.
  The lev had been magically enlarged. From the outside, it had not looked half this big.
  And then she confirmed his suspicions.

What Lorden could only describe as pure electricity shot through the air. He felt the body pressed against his vibrate violently, smelt the stench of burning flesh - and, as Lorden noticed with alarm, felt the knife against his throat shake and thrash about sharply. Terrified and sensing an opportunity, he ducked out from under the knifer's slackened arm, and, without thinking, shot a stream of unadultered, pure fire at the wall.

  He was flung away, nothing more than a rag doll. Pain like nothing he'd felt before took a hold of him. He wanted to die. That was his only thought - that someone would spare him.

  He blacked out, and sighed with relief.                                                          

  He awoke in a comfortable enough bed - something that felt like you'd get at a cheap hotel. At least it wasn't metal bars and handcuffs - he'd experienced both.
  The walls were the sickening color of pale leeks, and the sound of a monitor sung to life. He swore - he hated the things.
"Good evening!" the voice sang from the black box fixed on the opposite wall. He eyed it with speculative loathing. "I'm afraid you've had a bit of a mishap! Your heart's under quite a bit of strain! You have experienced..." - the prerecorded words took over - "Severe burns. Cuts to the throat. Mild malnutrition. Severe dehydration. Two fractured bones in the arm. One cracked rib. Three broken fingers. Bruising to the legs and back of the head."

  Lorden concentrated. The words became slurred, a black-tar like substance leaked from it, and then with a fizzing noise, it expired. 

There was a sheaf of pressed paper on the side table. He glanced over at the metallic coat-stand in the corner, and knew he was being watched by hidden cameras.

It was addressed to a man named Adrian. He opened it anyway.

He felt his heart accelerate, felt shock attack his system, as his roving eyes perused line after line of terrible writing. Tears leaked from his eyes, but he did not wipe them away. Now was not the time for pride.

  This was it. Now, there was no going back.

Adrian.

His father.

The father who had left when Lorden was only six. The memories of the time before he had stayed with Aunt were blurred, with only a few that still remained clear. To receive a letter that had been addressed to his father was like being able to live a fantasy in a world far better than the one Lorden found himself in.

Lorden couldn't remember his father's face, only his name and his voice. Sometimes he caught glimpses of a man in his dreams, but the moments passed by too soon and turned to ash in his mind. He remembered the night that his father had left and the days that followed - or were they weeks? Months?

Lorden went back, trying desperately to remember. A boy in a small room sitting on an uncomfortable bed. Talking to middle-aged men with grizzled faces. Men shouting, a crash, gunshots, and then nothing. Yes, this was the beginning. 

A voice permeated his thoughts, it was reassuring and gentle, but not weak. "It's going to be okay Lorden, I promise. I'll come back. I just have to leave for a little while." Lorden felt fear rush through him like a great sweeping flood.

"Papa, no. Please. What if the monsters come?"

"There won't be any monsters. Not anymore. That's why I have to go."

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door.

"CTO. Open up."

Lorden could hear the fear in his father's voice as he whispered: "Get under the bed and don't come out."

The CTO banged on the door with more ferocity this time.

"Open the door or we're coming in."

From his position under the bed, Lorden saw his father pick up a gun and walk calmly in the direction of the door. He heard a crash as the door was beaten down, and then gunshots and shouting. 

The men had worked their way into the hall that led to the bedroom. There was another gunshot, and a man's body fell into the room, his head aimed toward the bed. Lorden looked on in horror as he saw what remained of a face that had been blown apart by bullets. Lorden covered his eyes and couldn't look anymore. The sounds of the struggle seemed far away and eventually they faded into oblivion. After a while, a man looked under the bed and said that everything was going to be okay, that Lorden was going to go to a home for children without parents. He kept telling Lorden that everything was going to be fine.

After walking Lorden out of the building, he led him to a lev.

"It's going to be okay."

The man started the lev and began to drive towards an unknown destination.

"It's going to be okay."

Time passed and they were outside an unattractive concrete building. A sign read, "State Home for the Temporary Care of Orphans."

"It's going to be okay."

Lorden was led to a small room with a rusted metal frame bed. He was given a change of clothes and a hairbrush. The door shut, the locked clicked, and Lorden was left alone. An orphan at the age of six.

"It's going to be okay."

Bright sunshine woke Elenia. Rubbing her eyes she tried to remember this night's dream. It had been about a boy-with magic. Slightly older than herself. Orphaned? He had a mother, right...? No...

Elenia cursed. Once again the troublemaking boy in her dreams had managed to escape her memory...

At that moment there was a knock at the door, and the Costellian family's butler-droid slid in, it's newly polished wheels struggling slightly to make it's way through the pastel yellow shag carpet. Finally it stopped trying to make it's way into the room, and announced:

"Breakfast will be served in 5 minutes, Your Highness." And, promptly exited.

Sighing Elenia weighed up her options. Spend the day contenplating these silly dreams (and therefore get nowhere with her work), or as usual, act as though it were just some fantastical notion of her mind. Anyway who needed the trouble that magic could bring with it?

A few minutes later Elenia arrived downstairs to the main banqueting hall wearing her finest pastel pink dress, with matching slippers. The King and Queen were already there dining, dressed as though they were expecting company. In this day and age, anything came up at any time. Since the government had collapsed three years ago and magic had started to get out of hand. Elenia dispised magic-it had made her parents more preoccupied with work than their own daughter.

"You're late, Elenia!" The sharp voice of Elenia's mother, the Queen, echoed around the large room.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," said Elenia, curtsying.

"Now, we shall have none of that today, my dear." The Queen dismissed Elenia's politeness with a wave of her regal hand and indicated that she could sit near them at the table.

"How did you sleep last night?" Inquired the King, Elenia's step-father, as she took her place next to the Queen.

"Oh, fine, thank you. Same as usual: Nothing extraordinary."

Percy slipped out of the kitchen while her mother supervised the loading of the dishes--dirtied by cooking breakfast for the King and Queen--onto the conveyor belt.

The servant droids worked with alarming efficiency. So, technically as Head Housekeeper, there was no real reason for her mother to be there. But on occasion the steam would build up and cause one of the droids to short.

After the last time, when the newest droid went berserk and smashed up seventeen pieces of the Queen’s finest china, Percy’s mother vowed to keep an eagle eye on them at all times. Her mother, like most of the members of her family, was not a big fan of, nor believer in, the wonders of technology.

Percy grabbed her hooded coat, her scanner, and her knapsack from the servant’s closet and scurried down the rear hall, emerging in the sunlight at the back of the castle, near the alley that led into town. She knew from there she could catch a hired lev to take her into the RedLamp District where her Magic Scanner 3000 had indicated a ridiculous amount of activity last night.

She’d never seen the contraption so active before! It had always had a constant hum of activity all throughout the castle, but Percy just assumed it was somehow misreading her. She thought maybe, just maybe, the device could read a desire for magic as well as the actual presence of it.

Occasionally and inexplicably it would spike whenever she went past Elenia’s room, but Percy figured that too was a mistake, an anomaly, as Professor Benjamin would call it. There was no way Elenia, of all people, could possess magic. How absurd!

In any event, the dials had been off the charts last night, bouncing around like ping pong balls, indicating that something intensely magical was happening at the center of the city. And Percy, after reading about, dreaming about, Magic for nearly half her fifteen years was determined to find out what it was.

Having made it to the end of the alley without being recognized, Percy stepped out onto the jostling Kenton Avenue, scanning the crowded street for the nearest taxi-lev stand. She saw one at the corner, and its light had just turned green. She ran up to the platform and scanned her Citizen's ID card before anyone else could claim it. She smiled when it pulled up with a whoosh and stopped on a dime right in front of her.

The passenger door rose up slowly and she heard the taxi driver say, “Where to?”

“The RedLamp District please,” Percy replied as she clamored inside.

The taxi driver looked at her skeptically in the rearview mirror.

“Did you say the RedLamp District, kid?”

“Yes, I did,” Percy said, putting on a most imperious tone, a trick she’d picked up from the Queen.

The taxi driver shook his head. “Even I don’t go into that part of town.”

“Well.” She straightened her shoulders. “I’ve got an unlimited credit line on my ID card,” she lied. “And there’s another taxi lev pulling up right behind us.” She tilted her head and stared back at the driver in the rearview mirror. “So, are you going to take me into the RedLamp District or not?”

The taxi driver harrumphed, then chuckled as put his cigar back in his mouth and flipped the lever to close the passenger door.

He caught Percy’s gaze in the mirror again. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, kid.”

Percy leaned back, clutched her knapsack tightly to her chest, and sighed. Yeah, so do I.

Lorden lay in bed, his body aching. The various burns and breaks that he had endured made it hard to move, not that there was anywhere to go, but it was nice to change position every once in a while. The whole time he had been there he had seen absolutely no one. He was occasionally asked through the intercom if he needed anything, and if he did, a droid came in and tended to him.

For long hours he did nothing at all, but the time was far less boring than it would appear to an outside observer, due to the fact that Lorden was on so many pain medications that he could hardly think straight, much less comprehend the passage of time.

As his wounds healed, the pain medication was gradually reduced until it was eventually taken away altogether. Lorden was slowly regaining the strength he had lost during his excessive use of magic. 

Lorden hadn't seen the sun in days and was unable to tell the difference between day and night. When he was tired, he slept. When he couldn't sleep, he thought up plans to escape that rarely came to anything since they all involved the use of magic, and he was wary about using it ever since he had lost control. 

While mulling over more practical escape plans, the single reinforced door opened and the magic using woman from the night of his escape walked in. 

She had short, white-blonde hair that was cut into a bob. Her eyes were grey and almond shaped, and had a slightly malevolent look to them. Her nose was sharp and aquiline. When she moved she appeared to glide across the floor with a certain serpentine grace, the kind that very few have. 

Lorden had to admit that she was beautiful, stunning actually. When she spoke he found it hard to concentrate on her words because her voice was so enchanting. 

"I'm Ceridwen. You're lucky we found you when we did, or the CTOs might have done some irreparable damage. As it is, you're still going to have scars and your arms won't exactly hang straight, but it could have been worse...much worse."

"Is there any chance that I might be able to leave this room anytime soon?"

"That depends entirely on you." Ceridwen said cooly.

"I don't think I understand."

"Let's put it this way," she replied, "if you help us, I'll let you go. If you don't, you might just be trapped in here forever."

"Us?" 

Lorden was confused now. He had no idea how much time had passed since his altercation with the CTOs and he was completely lost when it came to where he was and who he was with. The only thing he knew, was that there was a magic-using woman named Ceridwen, and she seemed to have an agenda that involved him. 

"The other magic users. We live here, underground. We have a large city with artificial sunlight. It does well, but we have our eyes set on the world above, and you are just what we need to complete that goal."

"OK, so we're ... underground," said Lorden slowly.

"Of course," said Ceridwen.

"Why?" he said, somewhat stupidly.

"Why do you think?" she said coldly, as if it was an obvious answer. "We're underground because every single Unbeliever is jealous! It's jealousy, not fear, that fuels the King's crackdown on magic. He wants magic for himself and his skivvies, and he hates the idea that members of his constituency are more powerful than him. And then when you -" she pointed dramatically at Lorden, as if she was uttering a malediction "- go and blow up half a street and kill two CTOs in the process, that's exactly the publicity we need! You realise that one of the biggest manhunts in Dartoc-6 is happening right over our heads! If it wasn't for us, mate, you'd be busted and away with the fairies. And it wouldn't have been a nice way to pop your clogs, I'll say."

"Well, maybe I didn't need help rescuing!" Lorden retorted defiantly. "I had everything under control. If you hadn't noticed, I'd already -"

"Don't you dare," snapped Ceridwen dangerously. "If it hadn't been for my hitmen you would be dead."

"No, I wouldn't, I've avoid-"

"- and I think you're forgetting where you are. You're locked in a Medroom, a hundred feet under D6, and there's no escape without my say-so. I think it's in your best interests to help us."

"You can't make me -"

"- and surely that is what you want? A city where you can walk free, using your magic for good without the Unbelievers cawing that you're an inbred bastard born in a bin? You've no idea how much I want that ... and how much you know you want that ..."

Lorden fell silent in deep thought. He had never submitted to the will of someone else, as if they were a superior, and had promised himself that he never would, as long as he lived - but Ceridwen was right - that was indeed what he wanted. And it wasn't as if he was scared, either - the only thing he was worried about was the sporadic, devastating nature of his magic ... he needed to get that under control ... and if he was entirely honest with himself, he wouldn't mind staying with this feisty, beautiful woman at all, in fact -

"Alright," he said curtly. "I'll help you."

"Then shake," said Ceridwen, holding out a strangely callused hand.

Lorden shook without hesitation. He didn't know what that would mean to him, or what fate awaited him, but it must surely be better than what he was leaving behind.

Dagger lurked outside the door as Ceridwen talked to the boy. They both seemed to be getting irritated, evidently the child was giving her cheek.

He knew how Ceridwen hated that.

Dagger smirked, the scar running down the left side of his face turning it into a grimace. He had no idea why Ceridwen had taken an interest in the boy, she hadn't told him anything. And that was strange, considering that he was one of the few people she actually trusted.

He'd been there when they'd brought the boy back and had talked briefly to Ceridwen as to the reason why he had to be brought here. As far as Dagger was concerned, he was merely another street kid with basic powers. Hardly anything to get concerned about. However, Ceridwen had been adamant that he was important, but when Dagger had asked she had simply ignored him, as she always did when she didn't want to tell him anything.

Never mind, he'd find out himself. He always did in the end.

As Ceridwen exited the room, Dagger emerged from the shadows, black hair askew over his dark-skinned face and bright black eyes alight with curiosity.

"Did it go well then? Will he comply?"

Ceridwen gave him an irritated look before replying curtly, "Of course he will. He'd be stupid not to. Why'd you ask?"

"Curiosity," replied Dagger, grinning slightly as Ceridwen narrowed her eyes at him.

So, there was new blood in the fold, thought Dagger.

This was going to be interesting.

A sea of dull, concrete roofs streamed by below, suffused in the strange, orange-ish glow of the lights overhead. Levs trickled between the buildings like water on a pebbly beach, with soft hums and glimpses of blue plasma. It was a city, looking as though it had been placed there from some giant's toy set, as though every building had been constructed all at once. The concrete still looked fresh and the streets clean and new. The only thing missing was the sky.

Near the city's heart, on the edge of a tree-studded plaza, a door opened and a blond, attractive woman entered, closely followed by a short man, dark and inconspicuous as her shadow. She was tossing comments blandly over her shoulder to the man without ever looking at him, and this seemed to suit him, as --judging by his silent, creeping gait -- he seemed to be the sort of man who didn't care to be seen. They walked down a narrow hallway, lights igniting themselves automatically around them, illuminating a solitary, reinforced door at the end. The words of the woman and the sharp clicks of her high heels echoed around the close walls, but both sounds stopped as the pair reached the door.

"Stay here, Dagger," said the woman, not bothering to turn to look at the man she was addressing. "It won't do for your bloody knife to be interfering. . . though, it's not as if he has a choice. But he may prefer if we pretend as though he does."

The man called Dagger faded into the shadows like magic. The blond woman stepped forward, keying a code into the pad by the door with mechanical swiftness. The door swung open.

Inside was a coat rack, a bed surrounded by a web of suspended medical equipment, and on the bed lay a boy. . . .

A flash of recognition.

Someone was speaking, but it wasn't the boy. . . or the woman. . . .

The room seemed to be getting foggy, then dissolving. . . the voices getting louder. . . .

*   *   *

Elenia's eyes fluttered open. The murky outlines of many stooping figures were pressing all around her, blocking the light.  An annoying breeze was blowing in her face and something vaguely pink kept whipping by her face. Her shoulder blades were pressing into something that felt like carpet. Was she on the ground?

"Oh, dear, oh dear me!" a voice was saying, trembly and feminine. "I'm always telling her she shouldn't eat so fast. I'm sure it was that. Are you sure she's not choking? Oh, dear me, dear me!"

"She's not choking, Ophelia, look there -- she's coming to, see?" A different voice; a man's. "Now stop flapping that ridiculous handkerchief in her face and let the med droid examine her."

The blowing and whipping pink thing were whisked away and Elenia felt a metallic hand close around her wrist and she heard her pulse being measured out in small beeps. Some water was dabbed on her face. Elenia tried to sit up.

"Here she comes, easy does it, my dear." The King was supporting her gingerly cupping the back of her head in his hand. "Gave us a bit of a turn there -- quiet Ophelia, she needs a little peace and space. She's only fainted, and I daresay she'll be alright."

Elenia suddenly sat up straighter; she had just remembered her dream -- had it been a dream? It had been so real. . . .

"There there, drink some of this -- it'll make you feel better." A cup was pressed to her lips. Elenia drank, but she was scarcely even aware of it. She kept seeing the city in her dream, which for some reason seemed much more important than her immediate situation. Where was that city? She had not seen it before, but the boy she had. . . who was he?

"Lorden," she said suddenly, herself surprised by what had just tumbled out of her mouth.

"What's that, dear? What did you say?" The Queen was hovering about anxiously.

"Nothing,"  muttered Elenia. But it was not nothing. How she could know his name, she could not fathom, but she would find out, she was sure.

Dc. White turned off the lights in the lab, making sure Whitney the super computer was turned off before locking the door to  CTO's main head courters lap.  She checked it twice, testing the door to see if its locked, but who was she kidding no one could get in here, with this buildings top security system. Dc. White walked away planning a nice hot bubble bath for herself, and take out from her favorite chinesse resturant.

A girl  sat in the chair infront of Whitney, CTO's super computer. Her white eyes taking in everything around her, not missing anything. Slowly she rose placing her hand on the table infront of her , it went right through the steel surface. How could she have forgoten? She wasn't real she was just Whitney, a computer that pretended human. Somehow...in some strange way she was able to take a human form. How could she forget that night? When it all started....

  Three weeks ago...

Everything was like it usually was, the doctor would lock up and go home leaving Whitney here all alone. It was different this time though. It had started  when she had felt a burning feeling in one of her hard drives, mistaking it for being over heated. The doctor did use her to much, but soon that burning feeling turned into a firey pain that speard everywhere .

   Pain

 every where.......

 burning...

What was going on? Computers don't feel pain?

help!

it hurts!

      Then, a sweet voice like no other she had heard.

  "Would you like for me to help you?"

Yes!

  "What will you give me in return?" the voice asked?

Everything! Anything!

"Very well, then i will stop the pain." All at once it stopped. "I have done what you have asked me and now i want your life service. I give you this body, to use when i call apon you." The sweet voice said. Whitney felt a more horrible pain, one that made her cry out in agony, she shook trying to shake of the pain like shaking off water.

What have you done to me?

" I got took away your pain."

Then why is it so painfully?

"I have giving you a new pain. One that you shall carry till your death."

 Whitney wailed, how could she been such a fool? Letting her own pain blind her judgement. Clutched her chest noticing that she had a human body now.  She raised shacking hands to her face. " This wrong."   her voice came out strange, the words sounding like a song as she spoke them. Whitney looked up at the owner of the voice, and fond the devil.

"No my dear, this is your new life. Live it and do not dissapoint me."

 Whitney shook her head trying to forget that horrifing scence with her new boss. She worked for him now, the devil. Her job was to take down the CTO from the inside out or die trying. Taking a deep breath Whitney place a small black box on the table, she took out a black matching button and pressed it, blood red numbers flashed across the surface of the box. There was more of these around the HQ, swiftly Whitney walked out of the building, the bomb went off sending the rest off as well. Whitney didn't turn to look at the mess she had created with her own hands, from the screams and yells for help that she knew her work was done.

      She turned noticing a camera across the street zoom in on her, facing the camera she gave the machine her best smile, or what she hoped look like a smile.  Letting it capture her image, a young girl, with all seeing white eyes, and brown hair that was cut short in the back and long in the front, her pink lips pulled into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

        "My name is Whitney, please do not try to stop me. You will get hurt...badly...."she  crushed the camera with her minds eyes turning into dust. Hoping who ever say it will have enough scene run far away.

  

The devil is coming to play and he plays hard ball.

Lorden was in one of his apathetic moods, and mixed emotions were boiling in his head. He was relieved he was out of danger, and that he hadn't been sentenced to death (yet), but he was angry that he had been forced to submit to the will of some stranger. But Lorden wasn't stupid, he knew who was holding the knives - and he hated her for it.

She called for him the next day. The stuttering plasma bulb dangled pathetically in a plume of cold air from the door as Ceridwen opened it. Lorden looked up, immediately clocking her.

"Time to get up," she said, a mocking smile on her face.

"I haven't been asleep," said Lorden indignantly. "I haven't been sleeping properly since I came underground."

"That's the way. You'll get used to it."

Lorden followed her out of his room and into the corridor. It was poorly made; the floor was no more than compacted earth. Plasma bulbs hung from the ceiling, though many had been shorted by the dampness. Iron posts rose to support the ceiling, interspersed with rusty sheets of sharp steel. Lorden knew if he lost his footing here he would cut himself badly on the crumbling metal. But he was concentrating all too much on the woman in front of him. He could not deny he was attracted to her - and that made him hate her all the more.

Ceridwen led him past many people, who she said had dubbed themselves underworlders.

"So who exactly lives down here then?" said Lorden indifferently.

"People who would otherwise be outlaws under the new regime," said Ceridwen quietly. "People who feel shut out in their own city, where you can scarcely say "Good morning" without a dozen cameras on you."

"This place looks like it's coming down at any moment," Lorden said nervously. "How can you be sure its -?"

"The only weight above us now is ground, we're not even in the city. When we're in the city these tunnels would collapse, so we drill crawlspaces in foundations, clean out sewers, dig -"

"No way! That's disgusting. You're not taking me there."

"You'll go where I tell you," she said coldly. "You owe me, remember?"

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"We're heading out of the city, towards a place where we have a base on land. We need food, and you need to meet some of my skivvies."

"Your skivvies? You actually have friends?"

"More friends than you, at the moment." Her eyes flashed dangerously.

"What, the people who rescued me the other day?"

"And more."

"But how do -?"

"If I want a talking shadow, I'll ask for one, now shut up."

And a stony silence fell between them as the tunnel began to rise. Soon, iron treads barred across the floor, forming crude steps. Smelling fresh air above him, Lorden began to climb faster. Before long he had climbed up into bright sunlight.

Ceridwen emerged after him, her eyes narrowed in the dazzling heat. She closed the tunnel with a strangely fashioned iron plug, which strangely had a bush planted into it which completely concealed the opening.

They were standing on a brown hillside, about five miles east of Dartoc-6. Lorden's mouth opened in surprise - he had never been out of the city before. Desolate, grassy hills roiled around them, right down to the city borders below. The urban district peppered the lower valley, only to be dwarfed by the imposing cloudcutters in the city centre, with their own network of sky-high, suspended walkways and bridges.

And then Lorden turned, and a rather different view met his eyes.

It was a slum, like the ones he had seen in documentaries about Ancient civilisations. It was more convoluted and yet simpler than the city - crowded with tiny streets, people, and noise. Flimsy iron lean-tos were all that some of the residents had managed to build, although here and there Lorden saw a decent building or two. But while the slum thrummed with activity, the city seemed to stand, proud and silent, oblivious to its own inhabitants.

"Well - what are you gawping at?" snapped Ceridwen. "We don't have all day."

Lorden frowned, annoyed, and turned his back on his former home. It had nothing left for him now. He headed towards the slums, and what he hoped would be a better life.

As Ceridwen and the boy made their way through the crowded alleyways of the slum, Dagger appeared from behind one of the lean-tos. As he emerged, seemingly from no-where, Ceridwen jumped and whipped around to face him. Upon recognising her accomplice, she glared at him.

"How many times have I told you not to do that? You'll give me a heart attack one of these days you sneaking wretch!"

Dagger tried to look apologetic, but the smile tugging at his lips ruined any hope of pentinence. He turned his gaze to the boy next, looking him up and down with an unimpressed expression on his scarred face. He was even more pathetic looking than he'd first thorugh, a scrawny little slip of a boy who didn't look like he'd last a second in a fight. The boy looked up at him with a defiant expression on his face, glaring at him, trying to show he wasn't scared. Dagger snorted derisively, what made Ceridwen think he was anything special? He certainly wasn't convinced.

Rolling his eyes, the tall man fell into step at Ceridwen's right shoulder and hissed quietly in her ear:

"You really think he's it? Looks utterly useless to me, scarcely more than a child. Are you sure about this?"

Ceridwen shot him an icy glare: "If I want your opinion I'll ask for it. I know what I'm doing."

Dagger didn't bother replying, he just blew out between his teeth and carried on walking. He knew Ceridwen well enough not to bother trying to talk her round. She was far too stubborn when it came to these matters. And, if he was honest with himself, she was almost always right in situations like these.

But, when Dagger cast a look back at the boy, who was gawking at his surroundings like a startled rabbit, he still didn't believe it.

If Ceridwen was right about him, he'd eat his words.

Dagger followed doggedly as Lorden and Ceridwen made their way through the slums, ducking lines strung with wet clothes; dodging around children running gleefully through the dusty streets. There were people on PIs, hologames and playing sports, an occasional droid rolling past on sturdy wheels to cope with the muddy ground - apart from the setting, life seemed to go on as normal. It was certainly cleaner than the RedLamp District in the city.

Finally, they reached a house. It was one of the nice ones, and seemed to be made out of stone from the hillside. Ceridwen led the way inside, Lorden following a little apprehensively, and Dagger slipping in like a silent shadow.

It was a pleasant enough place. The walls were bare but there was a soft carpet, plenty of plasma bulbs and a desk next to a loaded bookshelf.

"Mr Oakstaff," said Ceridwen, in the closest thing to a respectable voice Lorden had ever heard her use. The chair at the desk turned slowly to reveal a middle-height man with plenty of grey hair and beetle-black eyes.

"Yes, who is it, who -?" he chuntered distractedly, before clocking Ceridwen. "Ah, not you again," he grumbled at once. "I've had it with trying to talk to you, go away."

"Mr Oakstaff, please," said Ceridwen urgently. "It's very important that -"

"Important! What do you know about important, chasing around miscreants on the streets for -" Then Oakstaff spotted Lorden. "And you've actually brought one? Are you mental? What if he escapes and reveals our position?"

"He's not escaping. At the moment we're in a legit place, he could run home to mummy any time he wanted. Couldn't you?"

"My 'mummy' is dead," said Lorden coldly. "And if you think I ever want to live in that city again ..."

"He was reluctant at first, but he knew who held the keys to his freedom."

"I still think it's risky ..." stammered Oakstaff, clenching his knotted hands, but -

"You think everything's risky, and you're the one who stays cooped up in this house all the time, too scared to go out and fight the Authorities like everyone else -"

"Don't you dare pull that one on me, missus! Nearly everyone here wants nought to do with D6, we're perfectly happy where we are! You get paid plenty enough, I don't see why you're complaining -"

"Oh, forget it, you silly little man, you don't know what you're talking about," snapped Ceridwen. "The only reason we get paid is because we find food for the entire slum! If it wasn't for us you would all starve. And if you don't help us then I'll just have to go and find someone less experienced who might do it wrong."

"I suppose you want me to test him, do you?" said Oakstaff, looking a little nettled.

"No, I want you to have a nice little chat about the weather," said Ceridwen sarcastically.

Oakstaff paused, then turned to Lorden. "All right, boy, come here."

Lorden approached the wizened old man, looking nervously at Ceridwen, who was watching with admonition.

"Right, boy, she reckons you're magical," Oakstaff began, rather grumpily.

"I am," said Lorden, with a touch of defiance.

"I wasn't saying you weren't. Shut up and pay attention."

Lorden sighed. Why was everyone so short-tempered around here?"

"I want you to bottle up all your energy and direct it at this," said Oakstaff, pulling a plasma bulb from his pocket. "If you've got the power, you should be able to induce an electric current in this bulb, even for a little bit."

Lorden looked at the bulb. He had never practised lighting things in his brief pratice sessions - he didn't know if he would be able to. He stared exclusively at the plasmetal core, willing the electricity to burst into life between the tiny electrodes and excite the waiting ions into life.

Nothing happened.

Oakstaff was becoming impatient. "Try again, boy, don't stare so much, you're making me uncomfortable."

Lorden tried again ... he knew his magic was waiting to be unleashed, he could feel it building in his head, he yelled at it, sent it forth into the world -

- and the plasma bulb lit so suddenly and so brightly that Oakstaff dropped it. Then, it exploded.

The only sound was bits of glass tinkling on the floor. Oakstaff stood and stared at Lorden, who was a little surprised himself. Only Ceridwen seemed satisfied.

"You see? He's the most powerful magician we could've dreamed to have found!"

Oakstaff looked a little dishevelled.

"He has no control - no control whatsoever - but it's a start." He looked down at Lorden. "I tell you, boy, you've got more power than ever I had. And don't practise any more, not until - well -"

"Are you going to teach him?" said Ceridwen.

"No, I cannot teach him anything," said Oakstaff mulishly. "I thought Dagger was an accomplished magician -"

"I'm not teaching anyone my secrets," hissed Dagger vehemently.

"You're the only decent magician for miles around," said Ceridwen, with a trace of desperation in her voice. "If you don't help train the boy -" ("I have a name, you know") "- then he might end up doing exactly what he did the night I rescued him ... he's already killed two CTOs by accident, for Pete's sake!"

Oakstaff frowned at her.

"I don't see I have any choice!" he said. "All right, all right, whatever you want, I can't see me doing anything else over the next few weeks anyway. Fine! I'll teach him."

"Excellent," said Ceridwen, with an air of finality. "We'll start next Freeday. Come on," she said to Lorden, who had not appreciated following Ceridwen like a loyal puppy and had already left.

Ceridwen slammed the door behind her.

"See? Ceridwen's always right!"

Percy sat somewhat dejectedly in the back of the taxi-lev as it made its way back from the RedLamp District. The lev was somewhat dubious-looking, from its bunged-up body, to the mysterious cardboard box that filled the front seat,  to the disguised sliding panel on the floor Percy had accidentally dislodged with her foot. But she said nothing and neither did the driver, filling the ride back to the castle with a dense layer of oppressive silence.

Percy had hoped that last night's activity would lead to something; that it would contain some small key to her ongoing quest for the elusive, culpable thing called magic. But after thoroughly combing the shady alleyways of the RedLamp District, she had finally admitted to yet another red herring and made her way home.

To distract herself from the silence that pressed with an unbearable noiselessness against her ears, Percy had begun fiddling with her Magic Scanner 3000 once more, watching the thin green line rise and dip incrementally. This, however was very routine as there was nearly always some trace of residual magic somewhere. Also, the 3000 wasn't quite as accurate as the newer 4000, and was often a bit quirky, but it had been a gift from her grandfather, Professor Benjamin Oakstaff, and Percy had been using it for so long that it would seem like a betrayal to abandon it for a newer model. Not that she saw much of her grandfather these days. He lived outside of Dartoc-6 and he rarely contacted her anymore.

But now they were approaching the castle, and Percy stuffed her magic scanner back into her knapsack, not sorry in the slightest to be leaving the lev. She paid (a rather exorbitant amount, Percy thought) then got out at the corner, traveling the rest of the way to the castle on foot.

She entered through the servant's door on the side and was closing the door behind her when it happened. A violent beeping suddenly erupted from somewhere inside her knapsack. Heart racing, she tore open the bag and fumbled her Magic Scanner 3000 out of it. It was whirring and beeping maniacally as the green line on its display created a mountain range of sharp spikes. There was magic about very close by.

Using the switches and dials on the device to fine tune location, Percy started to make her way toward the banqueting hall where the magic seemed to be emanating from. What was going on? Had a magic-user breached the castle? Percy quickened her pace.

She reached the hall, and sure enough, Percy's scanner was going berserk, humming and indicating that this indeed was where the magic was to be found. Percy looked up from the magic scanner.

There seemed to be some great commotion going on in the center of the hall. The King and a good deal of others were crowded around a figure who seemed to have collapsed on the ground. The Queen stood by, flapping a garish, pink handkerchief in an attempt to fan the fallen person's face. Percy drew closer, peering around the congregated mass. It was Elenia.

In Percy's head, memories of past Scanner readings were surfacing and old suspicions were leaping to conclusions. She took a moment to twiddle the knobs on her scanner to be sure, but Percy already knew. A few seconds later the Magic Scanner confirmed it.

Elenia was sitting up now, and a single word escaped from her lips. Percy barely caught it. "Lorden."

Heart thrumming with excitement, Percy exited the hall. All this time, the lead she had been looking for resided right under her nose. It was time to call Professor Benjamin.

Whitney didn't understand the concept of lying, to her, things were either true or false. When she had received her human body, and the voice said her pain would stop, she knew that it did not do what it said it would, but didn't know how to interpret that information. She knew what lying meant, since she had been programmed to give the definitions of word on command, but when given a command, she only had to interpret the information and act accordingly. A command was a command, there was no other meaning.

And yet...the voice had said it would do one thing, but in reality had done another. This was lying, by definition, but Whitney was unable to comprehend how it worked. For many nights she had researched lying. She read stories where the characters lied to one another, she read the dictionary definition of "lie" over and over.

lie

1. [lahy] noun, verb, lied, lying

-noun

1. a false statement made with deliberate intent to deceive; an intentional untruth; a falsehood. 

1. something intended to convey a false impression; 

1. an inaccurate or false statement.

1. to speak falsely or utter untruth knowingly, as with the intent to deceive.

1. to express what is false; convey a false impression

-verb (used without object)

She knew what all the words meant,  but could not comprehend.

Until there was a glitch in her software.

After being submitted to yet another update of her programs, the scientists began to test for glitches in order to make sure that Whitney was running properly. One of the men gave her a command to open a certain file. 

She couldn't open it. 

Almost every day for two years that same man had opened that exact file. She quickly checked her programs to verify that he had permission to open it.

He did.

But still Whitney was unable to open the file. To all appearances, he was unable to open it, when in truth, he still could, there was just a problem with the most recent update, making it appear like he couldn't. 

A true that was hidden by a false.

Or more simply:

A lie.

Whitney looked at the castle before her, her white eyes taking in the huge home of the royal family. She saw a servant to the Monarchs, taking the chance she quickly caught up to the female following her into the castle. As soon as she was in she took a left following the directions the voice had told her. She was a computer she obeyed her master no matter who it was. Shaking her head she went back to her task. Like the voice had said there was a closet on the second floor, last door.

 Whitney opened and closed the door behind her, quickly pulling a maids out fit on. She then tapped a device in her ear.

  "I'm in..."  she whispered

"Good..." The same voice replied. "You have served me well, i think you should know who your working for..call me D..." D told Whitney a seris of instructions, making sure she understood them before clicking off.

 Whitney put the device in her pocket , she closed her eyes, thinking of the look she wanted. When she opened them again, she had a red bob, with chiness bangs, her face was more pointy, her lips more pink, her eyes now a plae green. Not only did her face look different she was taller and curvier. Whitney opened the door of the closet and nearly bumped into the servant woman she had followed in. The woman looked at her curiously, her face piniched in thought.

"I'm new here, my name is Bria." she said. The woman nodded, but still she gave Whitney a strange look.

  "Well i'm Percy if you need any help just ask me."

Crash!

"...and now to greeting a suitor," Elenia's governess-droid garbled on automatically ignoring that particularly common sound from the corridors. Elenia, however, noticed the sound of a droid breaking down all too well. The clean-droids often broke down in her room in their attempts to manoeuvre the shag carpet. At least then Elenia had her room to herself; her books and her writings. And those private dreams. She had now recovered from her vision earlier, and was determined to continue the day as normal-despite having Lorden's face in her mind continuously.

"Sorry, Ms. Chatterham," Elenia said, getting up and flicking a switch on the droid's metallic casing. The robot's voice slowed and rumbled to a drone as 'she' shut 'her' systems down. Elenia liked to think of this droid as more of a human being, therefore she had given it a name and (almost) a personality. The girl also liked to think that Ms. Chatterham was married to the butler! It gave her a little sense of security; of two people having each other forever...

Elenia had never known her father, and to ask about him to her mother would not be considered 'polite' by the Royal household. Soon after Elenia was born her mother had married King Tyraanus, the young, single, prince who Lady Ophelia had been betrothed to all her life. Elenia would hate to be told who to marry...

In fact the Princess was very happy with Matt. A simple poorer boy she had met when the stretch-lev and the old butler-droid broke down for the first time. The late mechanic, Jenodez (killed in the recent Great Magic Outbreak) had not yet been replaced so the droids were being taken to one of the Mechs in the inner city. The King and Queen had been tending to the victims and the aftermath of the Great Outbreak so had sent Elenia in their place. Matt had recently been employed into the Mechs Society and, to Elenia, looked so gorgeous coming out from under that lev, copper hair sparkling with grease, bronze hands painted with midnight-black oil. And on top of all that he had lost his parents in the Great Outbreak; he hated magic too!

Two years on and Matt was almost qualified to start making his way onto bigger projects, such as the current reprogramming of 'Ms. Chatterham'. They had almost got her perfected, but whenever they tried to slip in the last addition, Ms. Chatterham's 'sense of superior authority' persona would kick in and she would refuse to be tampered with. Talk about robots fighting back! And they said those were just rumours.

Elenia was now standing in front of the butler-droid which had been in the midst of setting the table, but was now upturned amongst the ruined china it had been carrying.Sigh-better inform the staff before they inform my parents. The King and Queen didn't need this sort of thing at the moment.

Elenia hurried to the Palace kitchens, careful of her step. Who knew what rodents could be down here?

"Cook? Cook?" Oh, where was that troublesome machine-hater when you needed her?She tries to hide those feelings but I can see it in her eyes. And Percy, her child, has the eyes of a magic-lover. Elenia shivered. She wants to be part of that scum life.

Here was Percy now, tending to one of the new human staff.  The Princess frowned; since when did the Palace start hiring unneeded help-it certainly wasn't like her parents to make such a decision.

"Percy? Where's the Head Housekeeper?" Elenia asked the servant girl, not bothering to be polite for the staff. If anything, she was more than a little impatient. Percy glanced around then said: "I'm sorry, miss, I don't know..." But Elenia felt that she was concealing something, so turned on her pricey heels and stormed up the stairs, anger boiling over inside.

Turning back to the droid she screamed, "Why won't you work?" and stamped her foot loudly on the ground. At that moment the crystal lights in the dining room exploded in showers of shimmery diamonds.

"Wow," said Elenia stepping away from the mess, "What was that?"

"Elenia?" Percy appeared suddenly behind her, shocked at the state of the normally-so-tidy room.

"Elenia..."

To be continued.....

Posted by Gabriel Lorden of Philadelphia, PA. 

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