Browser lacks capabilities required to play.

Upgrade or switch to another browser.

Loading…
<<print $version>>[[Credits]][[Brett Witty|https://brettwitty.net/]]<<nobr>> <<set $version to "IF Comp 2025, v1.1 (2025-09-18)">> <<set $actNum to 1>> <<set $actTitle to "Compiling">> <<set $chapterNum to 1>> <<set $chapterTitle to "">> <<set $chap1MarillaCutToChase to false>> <<set $chap3AnneApologised to false>> <<set $chap4AnneStoic to false>> <<set $chap6Iced to false>> <<set $chap7PhysicallySafe to false>> <<set $chap8WhoWon to "none">> <<set $salvaged to "none">> \ <</nobr>><div class="columns"> \ <div class="column"> \ <h1 style="text-align: right">Anne of Green Cables</h1> \ <h2 style="text-align: right">by Brett Witty</h2> \ <div style="text-align: right"><<button "Begin..." chapter1-1>><</button>></div> </div> \ <div class="column"> \ <<include "title">> </div> </div><<nobr>> <div class="columns"> <div class="column"> <<include "anneanimx3" "anneanimx3">> </div> <div class="column"> <h1>Anne of Green Cables</h1> <h2><<include StorySubtitle>></h2> <span id="ifid">IFID: <<= $('tw-storydata').attr('ifid')>></span> <dl> <dt>Written by:</dt> <dd>Brett Witty (<a href="mailto:brettwitty@brettwitty.net">brettwitty@brettwitty.net</a>)</dd> <dt>Thanks to:</dt> <dd>Mike Purcell, Max Fog, Drew Cook, AmesyFlo and manonamora for their feedback and support</dd> <dt>Credits art:</dt> <dd>[[marceles|https://ko-fi.com/marceles]]</dd> </dl> </div> </div> <span id="authorNote">Author's Note</span> <</nobr>> //Anne of Green Cables// is a work of interactive fiction by Brett Witty, inspired by and incorporating elements from //Anne of Green Gables// by L.M. Montgomery, which <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45">is in the public domain</a>. Text from the original has been adapted and remixed throughout. This is done with a deep affection and mischievious respect for the original. Accordingly, this work contains no AI-generated content. All em-dashes were put in by human hands. ----- >“I’m not a bit changed--not really. I’m only just pruned down and branched out. The real //me//--back here--is just the same. It won’t make a bit of difference where I go or how much I change outwardly; at heart I shall always be your little Anne, who will love you and Matthew and dear Green Gables more and better every day of her life.” >>-- Anne Shirley, "CHAPTER XXXIV. A Queen’s Girl", //Anne of Green Gables// <div id="creditsreturn"><<return "[Return to the story...]">></div>//Anne of Green Cables// is a work of interactive fiction by Brett Witty, inspired by and incorporating elements from //Anne of Green Gables// by Lucy Maud Montgomery, which <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45">is in the public domain</a>. Text from the original has been adapted and remixed throughout. This is done with a deep affection and mischievious respect for the original. Thanks very much to <<link "my beta-testers and artists" Credits>><</link>>. Please feel free to <a href="mailto:brettwitty@brettwitty.net">email me</a> comments, bug reports and reviews. Good luck to everyone in IF Comp 2025! ----- >“I’m not a bit changed--not really. I’m only just pruned down and branched out. The real //me//--back here--is just the same. It won’t make a bit of difference where I go or how much I change outwardly; at heart I shall always be your little Anne, who will love you and Matthew and dear Green Gables more and better every day of her life.” >>-- Anne Shirley, "CHAPTER XXXIV. A Queen’s Girl", //Anne of Green Gables//<<set $chapterNum to 1>><<set $chapterTitle to "Mrs Rachel Lynde is Surprised">> ! Act I - Compiling !! Chapter 0x01 - $chapterTitle Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just at the junction where the Avonlea main road dipped down under the highways towards the flats of the vertical farms, fringed with thick data cables whose root source was known to be the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, forgotten bulk of undersea cables in its earlier course, sporadically garlanded with dark fiber splitters and routers; but by the time it reached Lynde's apartment it was an unassuming little data stream. Mrs Rachel commanded the unused bandwidth through clusters of surveillance cameras, and in her place by her wall of monitors she could keep a sharp eye on all the comings and goings, and if her algorithms noticed anything odd or out of place, she would not rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof. There are plenty of entities in Avonlea and the greater Prince Edward City who can attend closely to the feed of their neighbor's business by dint of abandoning their own inbox; but Mrs Rachel Lynde was one of those capable creatures who can manage their own concerns and any number of networks into the bargain. She was a notable housewife; even without an influencer stream; she "ran" the Fabricators Circle, and helped run the Assemblage. Yet with all this Mrs Rachel Lynde found abundant time to sit for hours at her monitor wall, printing "quantum warp" quilts on a wall of extruders -- having knitted 2<sup>16</sup> of them, as Avonlea influencer avatars liked to drop in awed voices -- and keeping a sharp filter on the main crossing at the corner of the urban Village. Since the Avonlea Juncture occupied the node between the floating vertical farms, the light rails to the `Lotte, and the ascenders to the greater PEC highway bypasses, anyone who had business in Avonlea was the business of the unseen gauntlet of Mrs Rachel's digital panopticon. Her feed hummed that one afternoon in early June. News of the latest warm war between the corpos streamed through a window: Mirai-Gaia Solutions were bought out by Strata and liquidated as quickly as the network could bear. This pleased Thomas Lynde -- a meek little man whom Avonlea people called "Rachel Lynde's husband" -- who bought ample turnip seed at prices that could only be relayed in hushed tones for his rooftop garden overlooking the village. All farmers -- hobbyist and relic alike -- should have capitalized on this influx of inexpensive seed. In particular, Rachel Lynde noted, Matthew Cuthbert ought to be lining his fogponic racks at Green Cables and eventually take advantage of the turnip differential before the arbitrage dried up. And yet here on the monitor was Matthew Cuthbert, at half-past three on a Sunday, placidly driving his boat up onto the ramp towards the Avonlea juncture. Rachel Lynde's mnemonic agents reminded her that Matthew Cuthbert had not been seen out of his farm of Green Cables since his pacemaker implant. Yet here he was, in his best street clothes and astride his electric buggy, which was plain proof that he had business in Avonlea village or -- dare it be possible -- somewhere in greater PEC. Rachel ran her holistic constellation of predictors. What was Matthew Cuthbert doing all the way out on this Gaussian tail? Where was he going and why was he going there? Had it been any other man in Avonlea, Mrs Rachel, deftly putting this and that together, might have given a pretty good prompt to her predictors as to both questions. Having self-cannibalised all their synthesised data, the predictors reminded her that Matthew was the shyest man alive and hated to have to go among strangers or to any place where he might have to take the full brunt of attention. Matthew, adjusting his white collar before engaging his boat into buggy mode, was someone that didn't fall across her screens often. Mrs Rachel, with all her assistance virtual or otherwise, could make nothing of it and her afternoon's enjoyment was spoiled. "I'll just step over to Green Cables and find out from Marilla where he's gone and why," she finally concluded. After checking her cameras were set to record -- she scarcely needed to as they were always recording the comings and goings of Avonlea folk -- she set off herself in search of answers. <<link "Mrs. Rachel set out..." chapter1-2>><</link>>Mrs Rachel set out. According to the GPS she had not far to go; the floating, orchard-rack-embowered house where the Cuthberts lived was a scant quarter mile up the road from Lynde's junction. To be sure, the long, twisting, patchwork jetty between the archipelago of floating farms made it a good deal further. It snaked like cables are wont to do, and the undersea cable terminating at the Cuthbert farm kept their residence as far as possible from the traffic of Prince Edward City, and was only visible from the highest of corpo towers, if they indeed deigned to look down. "I do not call living in such a place //living// at all," she said to her recorder, hoping to salvage the journey as a fifty second reel. "It's just //floating//, that's what!" With that Mrs Rachel stepped off the jetty onto the threshold of Green Cables. Very green and neat and precise was that platform, set about on one side by the great patriarchal cables plunging into the legacy-bound mooring scaffold, and on the other by a row of prim solar spindles, their collectors sharp-edged, rigid, and efficient. Privately she was of the opinion that Marilla Cuthbert swept that platform over as often as she swept her house. One could have eaten a meal off the platform without exceeding the incidental microplastic ingestion threshold, as they say. Mrs Rachel stepped through the chain-link opening, accosted by neither keycard scanner, nor camera, nor voice check -- a rare naivety in this city. She made her way past a sad mecha-lifter that, by her own husband's hushed testimony, Matthew had promised Marilla hand-on-pacemaker he'd have fixed by the Fall. The mellow June sunlight cast her shadow over the door, which meant there weren't that many months on Matthew to keep his promise. <<link "Mrs Rachel rapped smartly at the kitchen door and stepped in when bidden to do so..." chapter1-3>><</link>>The kitchen at Green Cables was a cheerful apartment -- cheerful in the same bright, painfully clean way a chip fab was. Its windows looked east and west; through the west one the warm sunset glowed off the mirrored corpo towers and filtered through the white-LED-lit fogponic trellises as some sort of mixture of comfort laced with lines of abrasive precision; but the east one, whence you got a glimpse of the bloom white cherry-trees orphaned from the KonkeiKaisha plazas, was curtained over by a tangle of cables. Here sat Marilla Cuthbert, when she sat at all, always slightly distrustful of sunshine, which seemed to her too dancing and irresponsible a thing for a renewable energy source; and here she sat now, knitting, and the table behind her was laid for supper. Mrs Rachel, before she had fairly closed the door, had mnemonic agents diarising everything that was on that table. There were three plates laid, so that Marilla must be expecting some one home with Matthew to tea; but the dishes were everyday dishes and there was one kind of cake -- //boldly hand-made// instead of fabbed -- so that the expected company could not be any particular company. Yet what of Matthew's white collar and amphibious buggy? Mrs Rachel was getting fairly dizzy with this unusual mystery about quiet, unmysterious Green Cables. And again her constellation of agents were of no use to her. "Good evening, Rachel," Marilla said briskly. "This is a real fine evening, isn't it? Won't you sit down? How are all your folks? Any news to report from Avonlea Junction?" Something that for lack of any other name might be called friendship existed and always had existed between Marilla Cuthbert and Mrs Rachel, in spite of -- or perhaps because of -- their dissimilarity. Marilla was a tall, thin woman, with angles and without curves; her dark hair showed some gray streaks and was always twisted up in a hard little knot behind with two wireless circuit testers stuck aggressively through it. She was almost sans cybernetics save for a few adjustments mandated by the government or the vicissitudes of life. She looked like a woman of narrow experience and rigid conscience, which she was; but there was a saving something about her mouth, which, if it had been ever so slightly developed, might have been indicative of a sense of humour. "We're all pretty well," said Mrs Rachel. "As to news, now, I was just saying to Thomas, it's a rare sight to see Matthew out and about at this time of day, let alone in his buggy. Wouldn't be anything worth remarking on, of course -- unless it was." Marilla's lips twitched understandingly. She had expected a call from Mrs Rachel; she had known that the sight of Matthew jaunting off so unaccountably would be too much for her neighbor's curiosity. She did not however expect it would earn a visit in person. * <<link "(Marilla cuts to the chase)" chapter1-4-m1>><</link>> * <<link "(Marilla keeps her affairs private)" chapter1-4-m2>><</link>><<set $chap1MarillaCutToChase to true>> Mrs Rachel let the words hang in the air; they would be a defensible weight to lean on Marilla's sharp shoulders but also a mental spacer so Mrs Rachel could prepare the next insistent burden to balance on top. But Marilla was the more tactical woman in the room and took the advantageous position of cutting to the chase, much to Mrs Rachel's concealed disappointment. "Matthew went to Bright River. We're getting a contractor mechanic boy from a corpo gig shop in Nova Scotia and he's coming on the train tonight." If Marilla had said that Matthew had gone to Bright River to meet a J-Pop idoru bot Mrs Rachel could not have been more astonished. She was actually piping /dev/null for a solid five seconds. It was unsupposable that Marilla was making fun of her, but as her Bayesian agents suggested, Mrs Rachel was almost forced to suppose it. "Are you in earnest, Marilla?" she demanded when voice returned to her. "Yes of course," said Marilla, as if contracting mechanics from Nova Scotia were part of the usual spring work on any well-regulated microfarm floating off Avonlea instead of being an unheard of innovation. Mrs Rachel felt that she had bluescreened. She thought in emojis and exclamation points. A contractor boy! 🤖👷‍♂️! From a corpo gig shop! 🏪💸🤯! Well, the world was certainly turning upside down! She would be surprised at nothing after this! Nothing! Mrs Rachel would stop at nothing until this mystery was suitably solved, even if it took her all evening! Marilla's eyes left her knitting for a moment, and in that moment assumed a very light softening, though if not pity for Mrs Rachel's conniptions, then a tired acceptance. "Now Rachel," she said, responding before her visitor could summon the requisite energy for the interrogation. "Matthew and I have talked this over for some time now. You know that Matthew is getting up in years -- he's sixty -- and he isn't so spry as he once was. Even that pacemaker only gave him back some momentum, but not speed. And you know it's desperate hard to get local hired help. Our cable neighbours are buying those stupid French automatons; the ones that as soon as you calibrate one into your ways and place, it's out of warranty and back to get recycled into tin cans. Matthew suggested getting a remote assistant. But I said 'no' flat to that. 'They may be all right -- I'm not saying they're not -- but no distracted multitasking telepresences for me.' Give me someone from Prince Edward Island, anywhere in the PEI megalopolis. There'll be a risk, no matter who we get. But I'll feel easier in my mind and sleep sounder at night if we get someone running off the same voltage as us. We heard last week that StrataCorp was offering short-term contractors at respectable rates, including the discount that these mechanics had only a few years' experience. We decided they would be more teachable than the alternative. We signed a smart contract for some young boy currently bunking in The `Lotte, with no transport save the PEC train lines. So Matthew went to Bright River station to meet him." Mrs Rachel was reeling from Marilla's terse, bewildering admission spinning immediately to her verbose infodump. And worse yet, having pricked the balloon of enthusiastic investigation, Mrs Rachel was left to change tack which was no easy thing for a woman with a mind so determined. As Marilla's knitting needles clicked in the gap between them, Mrs Rachel spun from shock, to confusion, to suspicion that Marilla was in fact teasing her. She settled her mental attitude -- as she often did -- into critical dissection. "Well, Marilla, I'll just tell you plain that I think you're doing a mighty foolish thing -- a risky thing, that's what. You don't know what you're getting. You're signing some smart contract and bringing some strange corpo into your house and you don't know a single thing about him. Why, it was only last week I read how a man and a woman up west of the Island took a corpo boy in, a real imageboard griefer, and he set fire to the house at night -- set it //on purpose//, Marilla -- just for the clicks, and nearly burnt them to a crisp in their beds. And I know another case up north AvonLea where a corpo kid used to lick the cables -- they couldn't break him of the habit. If you had asked my advice in the matter -- which you didn't do, Marilla -- I'd had said for mercy's sake not to think of such a thing, that's what." This Job's comforting seemed neither to offend nor to alarm Marilla. She knitted steadily on. "I don't deny there's something in what you say, Rachel. I've had some qualms myself. But Matthew was terrible set on it. I could see that, so I gave in. It's so seldom Matthew sets his mind on anything that when he does I always feel it's my duty to give in. But as for risks, a mechanic boy from Nova Scotia with time in CharlotteTown can't be much different from ourselves. We've signed a smart contract, so we are unlikely to be surprised. I'd never dream of signing up difficulties like a hacker. Or a girl." Mrs Rachel would have liked to stay until Matthew came home with their corpo kid and watch the drama unfold. But she was spent from all her mental twists and turns, and it would be some time before Matthew would return. She concluded that she could at least be at the forefront of the news, and be ready to hit 'send' as Matthew passed by AvonLea junction. The post would certainly make a sensation, and Mrs Rachel dearly loved to make a sensation. So she took herself away, somewhat to Marilla's relief. Marilla could feel her doubts and fears reviving under the attention of the pessimistic influencer, Mrs Rachel. But Rachel Lynde left with three-quarters of the story and none of the satisfaction, which was definitely to Marilla's preference. <<link "Mrs Rachel left back for AvonLea Junction..." chapter1-5>><</link>><<set $chap1MarillaCutToChase to false>> Marilla let the air between them hang heavy, as if she had not heard the implication. She lifted her knitting briefly to inspect it and continued, silent save for the clicking of needles. Mrs Rachel had thought her lean on Marilla was on the far side of subtle. Her many years of interactions had trained her agents to suggest more direct approaches than circuitous ones. More lean was needed. "Just a rare sight, Matthew out and about, that's all." Marilla frowned, as if at the knitting, but responded: "Matthew's comings and goings are his own choice. He is his own agent, after all." Rachel and her swarm of advisors did not recognize the static in the response; they were too busy formulating another path to solving this mystery. "Now Marilla, I understand. Matthew's business is his own -- even if he has no shame in it." Mrs Rachel watched the bait arc over to her host. Marilla's hands immediately folded over her knitting. "He may be an odd man, but you and I know my brother is nothing but gentle honesty. Ain't no shame in going for a drive." She returned to her knitting, sharper than before. Mrs Rachel let the silence settle between them again, feigning satisfaction as she inspected the kitchen. She tested a windowsill with a finger and not even a suggestion of dust came up. "I mean," pondered Mrs Rachel aloud. "Surely Matthew isn't in trouble with any of the corpos..." Marilla dropped her knitting needles mid-click. "Okay. Rachel. Matthew has gone to pick up our new contractor machinist. StrataCorp would only take the boy as far as Bright River Station. Are you satisfied?" In truth, Mrs Rachel was not satisfied. This was merely the opening of a mystery, and she had so much more to press Marilla on. So much more to relish. "Well, Marilla, I'll just tell you plain that I think you're doing a mighty foolish thing. Mighty foolish! Why, just the other day I heard a family had to flee their home after a corpo boy -- packed to the gills with Strata gear -- bluescreened and destroyed the house. Cyber-psychosis, Marilla, they paid for a boy with cyber-psychosis. I mean, you don't know where these corporations get their workers. Asia! Africa! Or even... America. If you had asked my advice in the matter -- which you didn't do, Marilla -- I'd had said for mercy's sake not to think of such a thing, that's what." Marilla nodded, not looking Mrs Rachel in her gleaming, excited eyes. "I don't deny there's something in what you say, Rachel. I've had some qualms myself..." But Mrs Rachel was too amped to allow the polite to-and-fro of conversation. "Do you know anything about this contractor? Have you checked them on the web? He could be anyone. *He* could be a razorgirl. Did you consider that?" Marilla frowned at Mrs Rachel. "We signed a contract for a boy." Mrs Rachel raised her hands in play despair. "Oh, you signed a contract! With a corpo! And you expect them to respect gender! My word, Marilla, you have been out on the farm for far too long!" Marilla packed away her knitting and smiled thinly at Mrs Rachel. "Well, I appreciate the effort of you coming all the way out here. I shouldn't keep you. You're certainly a busy woman." Anyone less stern might have slipped "busy body", but not Marilla. Mrs Rachel's constellation of agents recalibrated around her, and suggested there was little left to be gained here. They advised to return to AvonLea Junction and ride the forefront of the news, regardless of the lack of details. <<link "[Mrs Rachel left...]" chapter1-5>><</link>>Mrs Rachel left back for AvonLea Junction, editing her inevitable post out loud, trying to find the right angle. "Well, of all things that ever were or will be! I'm sorry for that poor young one and no mistake, Matthew and Marilla don't know anything about children and they'll expect him to be more mindful and productive than any side-hustler from The `Lotte. I wouldn't be in that orphan's shoes for anything. My, but I pity him, that's what. Don't forget to like and subscribe, so you keep up-to-date on all of AvonLea's comings and goings." So said Mrs Rachel to her camera drone with full -- albeit practised -- earnestness; but if she could have seen the child who was waiting patiently under the LED cascade at Bright River station at that very moment her pity would have been still deeper and more profound. <<link "[Next Chapter...]" chapter2-1>><</link>><<set $chapterNum to 2>> <<set $chapterTitle to "Matthew and Marilla are Surprised">> !! Chapter 0x02 - $chapterTitle Matthew Cuthbert and his hexapod buggy jogged comfortably over the eight blocks to Bright River. It was a pretty road, running along the edge of AvonLea precinct, past the community gardens and repurposed warehouses, eventually squeezing between rows of snug skyscrapers, with risers now and again allowing the traffic to join the megahighway encircling Prince Edward Island. In these vaulting urban chasms, the air was awash in the aroma of street vendors, illuminated by endless garlands of neon lights and LED billboards. One such billboard chose Matthew for a targeted audio cylinder of advertisement: <blockquote id="littlebird">Little Bird VR: Enjoy a perfect summer all year around.</blockquote> Matthew enjoyed the drive after his own fashion, admiring the architecture and faceless, roiling crowds -- except when the razorwomen hanging out of doorways would flash a smile and a tattoo and he had to nod politely to them -- for in Prince Edward Island you are supposed to respect all and sundry you meet in the streets whether you know them or not, otherwise their network will know you soon enough. Matthew dreaded the attention of all women, Marilla and Mrs Rachel most of all -- for he had an uncomfortable feeling that the mysterious creatures were secretly laughing at him and not-so-secretly sharing the posts. He may have been quite right in thinking so, for he was an odd-looking personage, much out of time, with an ungainly figure and long iron-gray hair that touched his stooping shoulders, and a full, soft brown beard which he had worn ever since he was twenty. In fact, he had looked at twenty very much as he looked at sixty, lacking a little of the grayness and the only cybernetic enhancement was the pacemaker <<link "keeping that timid heart going." chapter2-2>><</link>>When he reached Bright River station, the last of the Sunday trains were emptying out their passengers into the streets. The platforms, offering neither comfort nor clout, were vacated as soon as the passengers could escape them. Matthew looked down the long, almost empty platforms; the only movement left was a station robot wheeling around on its last rounds, and a girl sitting on a metal bench at the end. Matthew, barely noting that it //was// a girl, sidled past her as quickly as possible without looking at her. Had he looked he could hardly have failed to notice the tense rigidity and expectation of her attitude and expression. She was sitting there waiting for something or somebody and, since sitting and waiting was the only way to make sure she didn't miss it, she sat and waited with all her might and main. She didn't even consult her phone. /* TODO: Sidebar news? */ \ Matthew intercepted the rolling station manager robot, and asked him if the five-thirty train would soon be along. The robot squared with Matthew, and played a short advertisement in the guise of a news flash: "Breaking news: Biotech giant Mirai-Gaia has been bought and all outstanding contracts have been liquidated. This news update was brought to you by Carmody Cybernetics. How can I help you?" Matthew adjusted his collar and asked again, "Will the five-thirty train be along soon? I'm expecting to meet a boy who--" "The Sunday 5:30 pm train has arrived and all passengers have disembarked. The platform is now closing. Please follow me as I escort you and the remaining passenger to the exit." The robot pushed past Matthew with a scrolling marquee of <span id="followme">FOLLOW ME</span>. "I don't understand," said Matthew helplessly, wishing that Marilla was at hand to cope with the situation. The robot spun around to face Matthew again. "My apologies. The Sunday 5:30 pm train has arrived and all passengers have disembarked. Only one passenger remains on the platform. You are not a passenger. There are no remaining male passengers. The station is closing for the day. Please follow me." Matthew was not a man accustomed to having many words, and at this moment he had even fewer. The station manager waited the pre-programmed three seconds, spun around and relit its scrolling marquee. It was leading him back to the girl -- a strange girl -- a girl who might have answers for him if only he could bear providing the questions. <<link "Matthew groaned in spirit as he shuffled behind the robot." chapter2-3>><</link>>She had been watching him ever since he had passed her and she had her eyes on him now. Matthew was not looking at her and would not have seen what she was really like if he had been, but an ordinary observer would have seen this: A teen garbed in a very short, very tight, very ugly shirt of yellowish-gray synthetic wincey. Over that she wore a faded olive tactical jacket, bulging with tools, notepads and patch cables. Down her back were two braids of very thick, decidedly red hair. Her face was small, white and thin, also much freckled; her mouth was large and so were her eyes, which looked green in some lights and moods and gray in others. This was just to the ordinary observer. An extraordinary observer might have seen that the chin was very pointed and pronounced; that the big eyes were full of spirit and vivacity; that the mouth was sweet-lipped and expressive; that the forehead was broad and full; in short, our discerning extraordinary observer might have concluded that no commonplace soul inhabited the shell of this stray woman-child of whom shy Matthew Cuthbert was so ludicrously afraid. The station manager robot was neither an ordinary observer nor an extraordinary one. It cheerily escorted Matthew towards his great fear, allowing him to be intercepted. Programmed to assume compliance, it didn't care whether it was escorting a man or a child. Despite being led directly to the lion's den, Matthew was at least spared the ordeal of speaking first, for as soon as she concluded that he was coming near her she stood up, grasping with one thin brown hand the handle of a shabby, old-fashioned duffel bag; <<link "the other she held out to him." chapter2-4>><</link>>"I suppose you are Mr Matthew Cuthbert of Green Cables?" she said in a peculiarly clear, sweet voice. "I'm very glad to see you. I was beginning to be afraid you weren't coming for me and I was imagining all the things that might have happened to prevent you. I would have called you, but that would have been in violation of company policies. One mustn't start a relationship being wicked, even though it can be very easy for your parent company to think you are wicked. They were good, you know -- the Mirai-Gaia corpos. But there is so little scope for imagination in a corporation. And in any case, I wanted our meeting to be as splendid as it could possibly be, without being ruined by phone calls about wheres and whens. In fact, I had made up my mind that if you didn't come for me tonight I'd go down the street to the corpo plaza -- the one with the big cherry-tree -- and climb into it to stay all night. I wouldn't be a bit afraid, and it would be lovely to sleep in a cherry-tree surrounded by a beautiful marble plaza, don't you think? You could imagine you were dwelling in great marble halls, couldn't you? And I was quite sure you would come for me in the morning, if you didn't tonight." Matthew had taken the scrawny little hand awkwardly in his; the news of Mirai-Gaia -- the girl's parent company -- its total evaporation, that decided for him, then and there. He could not tell this child with glowing eyes and no employer that there had been a mistake; he would take her home and let Marilla do that. She couldn't be left at Bright River station anyhow, no matter what mistake had been made, so all questions, contract revisions and explanations might as well be deferred until he was safely back at Green Cables. "I'm sorry I was late," he said shyly. "Come along. The hexapod is over in the carpark. Give me your bag." "Oh, I can carry it," the girl responded cheerfully. "It isn't heavy. I've got all my worldly goods in it, but it isn't heavy. And if it isn't carried in just a certain way close by the security measures go off -- so I'd better keep it because I know the exact knack. Oh, I'm very glad you've come, even if it would have been nice to sleep in a cherry-tree. We've got to drive a long piece, haven't we? Mirai-Gaia said it was eight miles. I'm glad because I love driving, especially in the city. Oh, it seems so wonderful that I'm going to live with you and belong to you. I've never belonged to anybody -- not really. Mirai-Gaia only in terms of smart contracts and assigned sleeper pods, but it will be different with you. I'll be able to lie awake at night and imagine things like sleeping in cherry-trees, without the other gig workers asking me to subscribe to their side-hustle." With this Matthew's companion stopped talking, partly because she was out of breath and partly because they had reached the hexapod buggy. She admired it was a silent awe, tracing its weathered metallic legs with a bony finger. With wide-eyed astonishment, she took her seat. Not another word did she say until they had left the station and were cutting back through <<link "the thin streets of Bright River." chapter2-5>><</link>>The vaulting skyscraper chasms had lost the last glows of sunset and began to light up with their own LEDs, billboards and neon signage. A networked syncronicity packet went out above them and all the lights shimmered in a pale yellow light that softened to pink. The teen reached up to brush her hand against a necklace of LED lights hanging off a shop front. "Isn't that beautiful? What do the lights, all billowing and warm and lacy, make you think of?" she asked. "Well now, I dunno," said Matthew. "Why, a bridal train, of course -- the modern ones with the glowing lights and misty veils. I've never seen one except in vids, but I can imagine what it would look like in person. I don't ever expect to be a bride myself. I'm so homely nobody will ever want to marry me, not even for tax reasons. But I do hope that some day I shall have a white dress. I will sew in the LEDs myself. That is my highest ideal of earthly bliss. I just love pretty clothes. And I've never had a pretty dress in my life that I can remember -- but of course it's all the more to look forward to, isn't it? And then I can imagine that I'm dressed gorgeously. This morning when I left the company town I felt so ashamed because I had to wear this horrid wincey shirt and jacket. All the workers had to wear them, you know. The military donated three hundred of them last winter. Some said it was because they couldn't use them any more, but I'd rather believe it was out of the kindness of their hearts and making amends with the world, wouldn't you? When I got on the train I felt as if everybody must be looking at me and pitying me. But I went to work and imagined that I had on the most beautiful pale blue silk dress -- because when you //are// imagining you might as well imagine something worth while -- with filigreed thermoregulators and smart hems, and a smart watch, and tactile keyboard gloves... I felt cheered up right away and I enjoyed my trip to Prince Edward Island with all my might. I wasn't a bit sick coming through the underwater tunnel. There was much discussion about Mirai-Gaia in my carriage, but oh, seeing the skyscrapers and lights of Prince Edward Island as we emerged from the bay. PEI is the most luminescent place. I just love it already, and I'm so glad I'm going to live here. I've always heard the PEI was the brightest place in the world, and I used to imagine I was living here, but I never really expected I would. It's delightful when your imaginations come true, isn't it? But those buildings as we came in were so funny. Each skyscraper was chopped up and made to stand in a stack. When most of the workers got off at Charlottetown -- they called it The `Lotte -- I asked why the buildings were stacked like that and someone said it was for sleepers. Thousands and thousands of sleepers. I had so many more questions but they had to leave. What are sleepers? And why //does// it make the skyscrapers look like stacks of chopped carrots?" "Well now, I dunno," said Matthew. He had seen the skyscrapers from across the bay, but had never the curiosity to ask why. An advertisement for soda swept overhead like waves crashing and retreating on a shore. "Well, that is one of the things to find out sometime. Isn't it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive -- it's such an interesting world and it's all so alive. It wouldn't be half so interesting if we know all about everything, would it? There'd be no scope for imagination then, would there? But am I talking too much? People are always telling me I do. Would you rather I didn't talk? I can hit the mute button if you say so. I can //stop// when I make up my mind to it, although it's difficult." Matthew, much to his own surprise, was enjoying himself. Like most quiet folks he liked talkative people when they were willing to do the talking themselves and did not expect him to keep up his end of it. But he had never expected to enjoy the society of a little girl. Woman in PEI were bad enough in all conscience, but little girls were worse. He detested the way they shadowbanned him from reality, or worse yet, invaded his space to sell yet another side-hustle or memecoin. This freckled hacker was very different, and although he found it rather difficult for his slower intelligence to keep up with her bandwidth he thought that he "kind of liked her chatter". So he said as shyly as usual: <<link "\"Oh, you can talk as much as you like. I don't mind.\"" chapter2-6>><</link>>The girl opened her mouth to continue, but it grew broader and brighter as they left the neon canopies of Bright River and emerged next to the community parks of AvonLea. Robust white ash trees hugged the shared spaces, lit from below by warm LEDs. Joggers, couriers and amblers alike made their way through the urban meadow along clean, curved pathways. In the distance, spruce trees reached for the fading orange glow of sunset, flanked by their concrete building brothers. This beauty amidst civilization seemed to strike her dumb--for a moment. "Oh Mr Cuthbert, it is beautiful. What is this place?" "Well now, that's AvonLea. AvonLea Commons. It's kind of a pretty place." "Pretty? Oh, //pretty// doesn't seem the right word to use. You need the right word for such things! I believe big ideas need big words and //pretty// doesn't go far enough. It's..." She put a hand on her breast, sighing a pleasant ache. "It's divinely beautiful." The hexapod padded its way down the main street as the girl sat in reverie. "AvonLea Commons is too plain a name for a place so divine, don't you think? Couldn't they have given it a more fitting name?" "Well now, I don't know..." As the sunset's light dipped below a precalculated threshold, more lamps came on-line. A sweep of hidden white lights illuminated the pathways and the girl gasped. "I shall call it, 'The White Way of Delight'! Isn't that a name appropriate for something divinely beautiful? Can you think of anything better?" Matthew shifted uneasily in his seat. "Well now, I'm afraid I can't." "Oh Mr. Cuthbert, have you every wondered what it would be like to be divinely beautiful?" "Well now, no, I haven't," confessed Matthew ingenuously. "I often dream of being beautiful. Not like the advertisements, but a true beauty. Someone truly happy. As we travel to Green Cables, I feel pretty nearly perfectly happy, but I can't feel exactly perfectly happy because--well, what color would you call this?" She twitched one of her long glossy braids over her thin shoulder and held it before Matthew's eyes. "Well now..." * <<link "\"...it's red, ain't it?\"" chapter2-6a>><</link>> * <<link "\"...I can't rightly say.\"" chapter2-6b>><</link>>Matthew was not used to deciding on the tints of ladies' tresses, but in this case there couldn't be much doubt. "It's red, ain't it?" he said. The girl let the braid drop back with a sigh that seemed to come from her toes and to exhale forth all the sorrows of the ages. "Yes, it's red," she said, resignedly. "Now you see why I can't be perfectly happy. Nobody could who has red hair. Real red hair. I don't mind the other things so much -- the freckles and the green eyes and my skinniness. I can imagine them away. I can patch in that I have a beautiful complexion, or lovely starry violet eyes. But I //cannot// imagine that red hair away. It is simply unpatchable. Dye would be insufficient because I would //know// it was red underneath." Matthew sat in a dizzy silence. He had felt like this once in his rash youth when another boy had enticed him to race along the highways in a convertible. "But if I am to have this lifelong sorrow of red hair, I am glad it will be in a place as beautiful as this. //The girl of Sorrowful Red Hair in the White Way of Delight.// It shall have to do. I can be glad about everything except for my hair." Matthew pondered on this. He was wholly unaccustomed to deep existential angst about one's hair. He hoped the girl had no follow-up questions and contemplated crashing the hexapod in case she did. To his pleasure and longevity, she didn't. She spent the rest of the journey silently taking in the sights except to whisper the name, "The Lake of Shining Waters" as they entered the bay just as the moon rose to glimmer around the pontoons of floating farms. The thick tendons of green cables along the jetty connecting the farms began to make its presence known, exciting both Matthew and the girl. Unbeknownst to the other, they shared a thought that they dared not whisper. <<link "//They were not far from home.//" chapter2-7>><</link>>Matthew was not used to deciding on the tints of ladies' tresses, and this case there couldn't be much doubt. But this felt far too dangerous for Matthew to be the decider. "I can't rightly say." The girl flicked the braid back with a huff and then slumped back in her seat. "It's red," she said, resignedly. "I know it's red. I know you know it's red and I hope deep in your heart you too can feel the sorrow that is my red hair. It is okay, I am used to it. I have to be. I can imagine myself without freckles and green eyes, and without such a skinniness that makes my fingers not work properly in scanners. But my red hair, that is marked CANTFIX. I //cannot// imagine that hair away. It is simply unrefactorable." Matthew sat in dizzy silence. It reminded him of the time he accidentally dropped a wrench that shorted a connector he was about to grasp. He couldn't say whether had just done the right thing, but he knew not to do that again. "And yet," the girl continued. "While I cannot be perfectly happy, I will be happy enough to carry this burden of red hair living in a place as wonderful as this." Never before or again would Matthew encounter a mood so sombre about hair. All the better as he was thoroughly unequipped for the situation. Luckily, the girl settled down in her seat, taking in the sights of AvonLea. As they passed underneath the layered highways above AvonLea Junction, the moon shimmered over the bay bathing the pontoon farms with an ethereal glow. The girl whispered aloud, "The Lake of Shining Waters!" One of Mrs Rachel Lynde's cameras tracked them as they made their way along the path, following them silently and judgmentally until they were lost behind the thick mass of cables that gave Matthew and Marilla's farm its name. <<link "The place where the girl in her heart of hearts was already calling \"home\"." chapter2-7>><</link>>Marilla appeared briskly on the front porch as the hexapod's pneumatics sighed in exhaustion. But when she saw the odd little figure in an oversized tactical jacket with the long braids of red hair and the eager, luminous eyes, she stopped short in amazement. "Matthew Cuthbert! Who is that?" she cried out. "Where is the boy?" Matthew shyly attended to the hexapod which needed no attention. "There wasn't any boy," he said wretchedly. "There was only //her//." He nodded to the girl, realizing that he had never even asked her name. "No boy! But the contract said there was a boy. Mirai-Gaia had agreed upon a boy," Marilla insisted. "Well, this is who they sent. They sent //her//. And with the news and all, I had to bring her home. She couldn't be left at the station, no matter where the mistake had come in." "Mistake? This is a smart contact, Matthew Cuthbert!" cried Marilla. During this dialogue, the child had remained silent, her eyes roving from one to the other, all the animation fading out of her face like a halogen powering down. Suddenly she seemed to grok the full meaning of what had been said. She dropped her bag and sprang forward, with the abandoned bag bursting into faltering security warning lights. "You don't want me!" she cried. "You don't want me because I'm not a boy! I might have expected it! Nobody ever did want me. I might have known it was too beautiful to last. Oh, what shall I do? I'm going to burst into tears!" Burst into tears she did, her cries mixing with the muted siren coming from her bag. Marilla and Matthew looked at each other from across the porch. Neither of them knew what to say or do. Finally <<link "Marilla stepped lamely into the breach." chapter2-8>><</link>>"Well, well, there's no need to cry about it." "Yes, there //is// need!" The child raised her head quickly, revealing a tear-streaked face and trembling lips. "//You// would cry, too, if you were an orphan and had travelled to a place you thought was going to be home and found that they didn't want you because you weren't a boy. Oh, this is the most //tragical// thing that ever happened to me!" She continued to sob, almost being drowned out by her own bag. A thin arm emerged from her sobbing coccoon to press a remote, deactivating the alarms. Something like a reluctant smile, rather rusty from long disuse, mellowed Marilla's grim expression. "Well, don't cry any more. We're not going to turn you out-of-doors tonight. You'll have to stay here until we sort out this contract. What is your name?" The girl lifted her head again, her eyes glossy with tears, shimmering with thoughts. She paused. "Will you please call me Cordelia?" she said eagerly. Marilla's eyes scanned the tactical jacket and accoutrements, and her eyes narrowed. "//Call// you Cordelia? Is that your name?" "No-o-o, not exactly... But I would love to be called Cordelia. It's such a perfectly elegant name." "I don't know what on earth you mean. If Cordelia isn't your name, what is it?" "Anne Shirley," reluctantly faltered forth the owner of that name, "but, oh, please do call me Cordelia. It can't matter much to you what you call me if I'm only going to be her a little while. And Anne is such an unromantic name." "Unromantic fiddlesticks!" said the unsympathetic Marilla. "Anne is real good plain sensible name. You've no need to be ashamed of it." "Oh, I'm not ashamed of it," explained Anne, "only I like Cordelia better. I've often taken it as my handle when I'm allowed. But, if you must call me Anne please call me Anne spelled with an E." Matthew continued to fuss with the hexapod which still needed no fussing. "What difference does it make how it's spelled?" asked Marilla with another rusty smile. She noted to herself that neither Anne with or without an E appeared at all in the contract. "Oh, it makes //such// a difference. It //looks// so much nicer. It's four bytes rather than three, and four is a much better number than three. Filling a register seems so much more //distinguished// than having wasted bytes. If you'll only call me Anne spelled with an E, I shall try to reconcile myself to not being called Cordelia." "Very well then, Anne spelled with an E, what can you tell us about this contract with Mirai-Gaia? Did they explain it to you?" <<link "\"Oh yes...\"" chapter2-9>><</link>>"Oh yes, but it was so dreadfully boring. Smart contracts are so boring. Copy-pasted from a central repo, with no imagination in them at all." Anne sighed wistfully. "They were in such a hurry and I was distracted by flights of thoughts of moving from my home in Nova Scotia to the luminous Prince Edward Island, and I must have co-signed it without running unit tests. Not only that but the recruiter had the most charming desk robot. You can always rely on charming machines more than the cookie-cutter unimaginative ones!" She finally let her gaze move from Marilla to the equipment around the place. "And I can see there is a lot of charming machines here I can befriend in my short stay. If you would kindly allow me, that is." Marilla noted her continuing unenlightenment about this wretched so-called smart contract. "Do you have repair skills?" Matthew noted the tone of the conversation tended towards something at least not unfavourable, and so ghosted off to his shed. Anne, distracted momentarily by a water purifier, nodded earnestly. "Oh I do! I would be happy to talk to your machines! If they are willing to chat, we are sure to get along fabulously." Marilla watched her brother disappear as he had a habit of doing. At any rate, his presence wouldn't matter in the efforts to get to the bottom of this contract. "Well, I have some last preparations to make for supper. You may inspect the machines if you wish. Anything you can tell us about them, we can factor into solving our contract confusion." "Oh thank you!" Anne beamed, and then sank. "It will be such a bitter delight, getting to know the machines all the while knowing deep down that you wanted a boy and not an ugly girl with red hair. It will be a small comfort in my depths of despair." Marilla stared at Anne for a moment and said plainly, "Very well. I'll call for you soon." <<link "Anne surveyed the equipment..." salvageIntro>><</link>>From the security of his shed, Matthew watched Anne tinker. He noticed when the machine finally lit up, so did the girl. She danced and hugged the machine, patting it on the back for good behaviour. A faint smile crept up on Matthew. Beyond the dancing, Marilla was on the front porch, fists on hip and saying something to Anne. After some back and forth, Anne's shoulders dropped and she stomped into the house. Then as sharp and straight as a laser, Marilla fixed her gaze at Matthew from afar. He didn't need to check his messenger. <<link "He knew he was summoned..." chapter2-12>><</link>>The three of them sat at the dining table, Marilla at the other end from Matthew as was tradition. In the middle, sat the new and despondent Anne, not eating. In between meek forlorn looks around the room, she nibbled at the bread, and pecked at the preserves. She did not really make any headway at all. "You're not eating anything," said Marilla sharply, eyeing her as if it were a serious shortcoming. Anne sighed. "I can't. I'm in the depths of despair. Can you eat when you are in the depths of despair?" "I've never been in the depths of despair, so I can't say," responded Marilla. "It is impossible! I mean, I do hope you won't be offended because I can't eat. Everything is extremely nice, but still I cannot eat in a state like this!" Anne flopped on the table, dramatically. Matthew edged his messenger out of his pocket. Marilla picked hers up from the precise placement next to her butter. Neither spoke to Anne, and they continued in silence with rapidly typing fingers. <<nobr>> <div class="chat"> <div class="name marilla">Marilla</div> <div class="text marilla">"Well this is a pretty kettle of fish. This is what happens when you agree to use their broker. One of us will have to debug the contract. This girl will have to be sent back."</div> <div class="name matthew">Matthew</div> <div class="text matthew">"Yes, I suppose so..."</div> <div class="name marilla">Marilla</div> <div class="text marilla">"You *suppose* so! Don't you know it?"</div> <div class="name matthew">Matthew</div> <div class="text matthew">"Well now, she's a real nice little thing, Marilla. It's a pity to send her back when she's so set on staying here and helping out."</div> <div class="name marilla">Marilla</div> <div class="text marilla">"Matthew Cuthbert, you don't mean to say you think we ought to keep her?!"</div> <div class="name matthew">Matthew</div> <div class="text matthew">"..."</div> <div class="name matthew">Matthew</div> <div class="text matthew">"Well, now, no. I suppose not -- not exactly. We could hardly be expected to keep her..."</div> <div class="name marilla">Marilla</div> <div class="text marilla">"I should say not. What good would she be to us?"</div> </div> <</nobr>> Outside Anne's repaired machine coughed momentarily, but returned to brisk service unlike it ever had before. <<nobr>> <div class="chat"> <div class="name matthew">Matthew</div> <div class="text matthew">"Well now, that's something. She's a real interesting little thing. She'd be help for me and company for you."</div> <div class="name marilla">Marilla</div> <div class="text marilla">"I'm not suffering for company. And I'm not going to keep her."</div> <div class="name matthew">Matthew</div> <div class="text matthew">"Well now, it's just as you say, of course."</div> </div> <</nobr>> Matthew slipped his messenger in his pocket and nodded. "Marilla, good luck with the smart contract. Good night, Anne." "How can it be a good night when I know you don't want me and I'll be soon gone in the morning?" Matthew paused, half up from the table. He glanced at Marilla and left for bed. Marilla watched him leave, folded her napkin crisply and looked at Anne. "Come now. I'll show you to your bed." Anne followed Marilla upstairs, walking like the recently convicted. Soon Anne disappeared into the blankets of her bed and fell into a fitful sleep. Marilla eyed Anne from the door for a minute. She returned downstairs where her knitting sat next to her tablet. The screen showed the source code for the smart contact. Marilla looked at both for the longest time. <<link "[Next Chapter...]" chapter3-1>><</link>><<link "Open dialog">> <<script>> Dialog .create("News") .wiki("Stuff about //Mirai-Gaia//") .open(null, function () { }); <</script>> <</link>><<set $chapterNum to 3>> \ <<set $chapterTitle to "Anne's Update Is Begun">> \ !! Chapter 0x03 - $chapterTitle Sunlight crept through the window and cast across Anne's pale face. She awoke suddenly, staring confusedly at the window through which a warm trickle of light was slowly filling the room like a buffering video. Outside, feathery blossoms floated by on a gentle breeze, dancing through the air. In awe, she slid out of bed, tiptoed over to the window and slowly absorbed the scene outside. Morning was sinking into Green Cables. The Prince Edward Island skyscrapers' shimmering welcome of the sun turned into a lazy glow that played over the platforms of orchards slowly lifting and dipping with the tide. Near the house grew a huge cherry-tree, its boughs so close and thick-set with blossoms that hardly a leaf was to be seen and it would tickle the house with a shower of petals every time the wind passed by. Anne gasped at the glorious automation of the fog sprinklers turning on in sequence along the vertical farms. Tired but dutiful little robots rolled off their charging pads to begin their pest patrols. In the distance, mottled shipping boats trudged through the bay, taking a long arc around the farms. Beyond, the bay turned out and rougher into the sparkling blue sea. Anne's beauty-loving eyes lingered on it all, taking everything greedily in. She had looked on so many unlovely, grey places in her life, poor child; but this was as lovely as anything she had ever dreamed. A soft creak signalled Marilla's appearance by the door. For a moment she watched Anne's dramatic sighing. Marilla broke Anne's reverie with a hand on her shoulder, startling her. "Good morning, Anne." Anne turned to return the greeting, but her smile faded and shoulders slumped as memories of the previous night's conversation leaned down on her. //Green Cables was beautiful, but they wanted a boy.// "It's time you were dressed," Marilla said curtly. Marilla did not know how to talk to the child, and her uncomfortable ignorance made her crisp and curt when she did not mean to be. "Breakfast is waiting. Wash your face and comb your hair. I want you to be ready for our discussion with your employers." Anne nodded solemnly as <<link "Marilla turned and left." chapter3-2>><</link>>Anne could evidently follow directions for she was downstairs in five minutes' time, with her clothes neatly on, her hair brushed and braided, her face washed, and a comfortable consciousness pervading her soul that she had fulfilled all Marilla's requirements. As a matter of fact, however, she was not ready for her video chat with her employers. Anne sat at the table and chewed on a square of buttered toast as she gazed out the kitchen window. "Oh isn't it wonderful?" she sighed. Marilla was folding a towel and frowned slightly towards the girl. "It's toast." "Oh, I don't mean the toast, although it is quite tasty. I'm pretty hungry this morning and it's been a while since I've had true homebaked bread. You can always tell. And today the world doesn't seem such a howling wilderness as it did last night. It's a lovely sunshiny morning and I have buttered toast, and you have so many little robots for me to examine and meet. You can imagine so many possibilities for a day like today, even if there are dark clouds on the horizon. I'm glad it's so bright today. It's easier to bear up under the weight of affliction on a bright day. It's all very well to read about sorrows and chaos, and imagine yourself living through them heroically, but it's not so nice when you really come to have them, is it?" "For pity's sake, girl, hold your tongue," said Marilla. "You talk entirely too much when you should be listening." Thereupon Anne held her tongue so obediently and thoroughly that her perfect continued silence made Marilla rather nervous, as if in the presence of something not exactly natural. Matthew also held his tongue -- but this was natural -- so that the meal was a very silent one until Marilla broke through the wall. "Now Anne, tell me about your employer," she said. In what appeared to be a tremendous physical effort, Anne broke her silence as if ripping gaffer tape from her mouth. "Mirai-Gaia. They provide gigs for workers in rural and maintenance positions. And chemical production. And pharmaceutics. Oh and cybernetics. They do oh-so-many things it's impossible to keep track of it all." Matthew instinctively patted his chest as if checking everything was still there. He continued to eat and observe. Marilla nodded. "And what is your position there?" "Well," said Anne, her eyes and head tracing out a rainbow arc. "Mirai-Gaia has said that we all work together as a family. Which I guess it must be true although I've never truly had a family to compare it to, and there's always so much change in the corporate org chart which I don't think you would have in a normal family. And we kept together except when they would send someone out on a job, which I guess would be like sending your son off to the war, only hearing from them via letters from the front line and postcards of countries you've never seen..." Marilla put down her cutlery in a tight configuration. "Anne. What did you do for your employer?" "I looked after children and robots," she responded, waiting for the cue to continue. Although Marilla had not signalled it, Anne continued. "I'm better at looking after children, and it's a pity you don't have any here for me to look after. But I'm glad you have so many robots." "I don't feel as if I wanted any more children to look after than I've got at present. //You're// problem enough in all conscience. And Matthew is a most ridiculous man, he might as well be a child." Matthew continued eating silently. "I think he's lovely," said Anne reproachfully. "He is so very sympathetic and kind. I felt that he was a kindred spirit as soon as ever I saw him." "You're both forked from the same broken repository, if that's what you mean by kindred spirits," said Marilla with a sniff. "Now help clear the table while I set up the video link. You do know how to pack dishes into the dishwasher?" Anne nodded and cleared away the dishes. Over the edge of the video screen Marilla saw her take a little too long with the dishwasher, not out of confusion but an odd //respect// for the machine. And luckily the girl did place the forks with the forks, and the knives with the knives without Marilla's guidance. Anne waltzed back slowly to the table as Matthew moved to the next room, out of camera view. <<link "Marilla dialled the number..." chapter3-3>><</link>>Marilla dialled the number, quickly checked Anne was sitting correctly, checked her own perfect bun, settled once again in the chair and pressed Call. "Welcome to Mirai-Gaia," said the automated voice. "We're so happy to have a chance to chat with you today. Your assigned representative will be on the line shortly." Anne nervously smiled at Marilla but had already started to sink into her seat. Marilla nodded and waited. The call exploded into a cacophony of sound and light. A portly man took up most of the shot, his thin hair pressed to his scalp with sweat. He was chewing the end off a stylus and looking distractedly into his monitor rather than the camera. Someone else strode past his cubicle with a large sack spilling with shredded paper. Around the office there were muffled yells and conversations. The man glanced at the camera with a wince. "Oh hi, how can I help you?" His eyes again darted off-screen and he pointed down the hall for someone. Marilla's lips thinned. "Marilla Cuthbert, I arranged a 8:30 meeting with you." "Oh, oh yeah. Is it... wow, it's eight-thirty already?" The man wiped sweat from his brow as his other hand clicked at his terminal. "Oh yep, let me just get my colleague on the line..." Another woman joined the call and the screen split. Behind her was a similar scene of chaos. "Hiiiii everyone, welcome to Mirai-Gaia, how can we..." she trailled off, distracted by something on her other screen. The man's tone lowered slightly and he said, "Yeah thanks for joining, this is the... um..." He clicked the screen rapidly. Marilla leaned forward slightly. "Marilla Cuthbert. Regarding the smart contract for Anne Shirley." Both reps rapidly typed into their terminals. The woman mumbled, "Smart contracts, that's Flora Jane, isn't it?" The man grunted and said, "I'll get her on... Which division is she in?" "She's... Australia office, AU-152... No wait, that got canned... Um, try OC-91." Anne's eyes were wide and she looked up at Marilla, who only responded with the most barely perceptible elevated eyebrow. Another square entered the screen, waiting for a pickup. A robot voice responded, "I'm sorry, this office is no longer connected. Please consult an alternative number and try again." The man sighed and tapped at his keyboard. "I guess we'll just do it..." Behind the woman a maintenance man buzzed a power drill on the cubicle wall across the corridor. She muted her side for a moment, smiling painfully and then returned. "Sorry, Mirai-Gaia is going through a bit of a transformation at the moment. We'll have your contract up in a moment." <<link "\"Please do,\" said Marilla crisply." chapter3-4>><</link>>"Okay, so," started the man, taking a quick swig from a brightly-coloured can. "I have your contract here, Miss Cuthbert. I can... Hrm... So what was the problem?" Marilla waited a beat and said, "The problem is that we had signed for a contractor, a boy, to help with our farming equipment and we received a girl." Marilla leaned slightly towards Anne as indication. Anne waved nervously. The female rep mumbled an ID number to the male rep and then ducked as a modular wall swung over her head and down the corridor. "Okay, so standard work smart contract... Urban rural placement... yada yada... huh, open ended terms period... Oh, she's female. Right. Ahem. At Mirai-Gaia we have expansive policies regarding ethical diversity and incl..." The female rep stopped typing for a second, mumbled, "Sorry, another all-hands. You stay, I'll cover for you." And then to Marilla and Anne, "Thanks for the opportunity to talk today, I'll leave you with my colleague and... Um." She disconnected. The man rubbed his forehead whilst not looking into the camera. "Did the worker not show up? Our records show that the worker arrived at Bright River Station..." Marilla frowned. "Yes. Well, no. You sent the wrong worker. We requested..." "Did you want me to put you through to Returns and Disputes? I think they still..." Beside Marilla, Anne wilted in horror as the suggestion of return came up. "No, okay they've been absorbed into... Hrm. Well. I think I can start the return process..." He muted the call as someone yelled orders over the cubicles. Marilla looked again at the red-haired girl, and then back at the camera. "No." "Okay... Huh? I'm sorry, what?" "No," Marilla said with a snap. "We won't do that. I just want to understand how this error occurred. So it won't happen again." The man looked into the camera with the confused expression of a dog having been shown a magic trick. <<link "\"I, I guess I can do that...\"" chapter3-5>><</link>>The man meekly tapped away at the computer, sharing the smart contract on screen. In amongst a tangle of boxes and wire diagrams, he highlighted an ID and Anne Shirley's picture appeared. "I guess, well, without looking at the logs, you... er, someone might have mistyped the ID. But I'm afraid it's all been cryptographically signed... You signed the inputs so the outputs are, well..." Marilla nodded. "Very well. I'll expect an email from you or your management detailing the situation. I won't take any more of your time." The man shrank, "Email? Oh geez... I guess..." He gave them a pained smile and a not-very-reassuring nod before Marilla terminated the call. Anne had been quiet the entire call, sinking under the fear of return. As Marilla clarified the situation, Anne's eyes widened. Her shoulders straightened. Confusion reigned on her face until a realization hit and she beamed like the morning sun outside. Marilla noticed the change and turned to rein it in. "I suppose that's it for now. We'll let them sort themselves out and return to this matter later. Hold up your end of the contract and go begin your chores outside." Matthew appeared at the door frame, dodging Anne's jubiliant exit. "Well now, what's the resolution?" Marilla narrowed her eyes at her brother. No person with any sense of a heart could throw a child back into that organizational sinkhole. She knew that. Matthew knew that. She was not going to say it, though. "What a fine mess you've begun, Matthew Cuthbert! You should have sorted this contract there and then at the station." Matthew nodded and asked again, "So what's the resolution?" "Well it appears as we have ourselves in a bind. It will take some time to unpick it. Anne can stay until then. She will help you where she can, since you're so disposed to keep her. I'll accept the duty of looking after her. I've never brought up a child, and I dare say I'll make a terrible mess of it. <<link "But it's about time somebody raised that child, since the corporations can't." chapter3-6>><</link>>"Anne's bright red hair popped out from behind Matthew. "Oh, Miss Cuthbert, did you really say that perhaps you would let me stay at Green Cables?" She said it in a breathless whisper, as if speaking aloud might shatter the glorious possibility. "Did you really say it? Or did I only imagine that you did?" "I think you'd better learn to control that imagination of yours, Anne, if you can't distinguish between what is real and what isn't," said Marilla crossly. "Yes, you did hear me say just that and no more. Now go and do your chores. As long as this smart contract remains in place, you have responsibilities." "Yes of course. What am I to call you?" asked Anne. "Shall I always say Miss Cuthbert? Can I call you Aunt Marilla?" "No; you'll call me just plain Marilla. I'm not used to being called Miss Cuthbert and it would make me nervous." "It sounds awfully disrespectful to just say Marilla," protested Anne. Matthew grinned at his sister. "I guess there'll be nothing disrespectful in it if you're careful to speak respectfully. Everybody, young and old, in AvonLea calls me Marilla except the corpos, and it's clear we do not want to be too closely associated with those. Marilla is fine." "I'd love to call you Aunt Marilla," said Anne wistfully. "I've never had an aunt or any relation at all! It would make me feel as if I really belonged to you. Can't I call you Aunt Marilla?" "No, I'm not your aunt. You're my contractor. I don't believe in calling people names that don't belong to them." "But we could imagine you were my aunt." "I couldn't," said Marilla grimly. "Do you never imagine things different from what they really are?" asked Anne wide-eyed. "No." "Oh!" Anne drew a long breath. "Oh Miss -- Marilla, how much you miss!" "//You// appear to be missing the point. Go. Do your chores. Matthew will explain what needs to be done. Now go, both of you." <<link "Matthew smiled and followed Anne out into the farm." chapter3-8>><</link>>Later that afternoon Marilla summoned Anne to help with preparations for dinner. Not enthusiastically, though -- Marilla had been watching Anne through the windows all afternoon, hearing her constant chirping and breathless monologuing. She had caught her brother Matthew in the role of audience member, resting his bearded chin on his fist and tracking the girl as she cavorted with all the machines of Green Cables. Anne swung into the room and placed a handful of apple blossoms into a serving jug. Marilla eyed that decoration askance, but said nothing. Anne tipped the blossoms near enough to bestow a soft kiss on a pink-cupped bud, and then studied it diligently for some moments longer, rubbing her machine-stained fingers together. Marilla was finishing polishing a glass, ready to relay the next set of chores but was interrupted by the girl. "Marilla," she demanded presently, "Do you think that I shall ever have a bosom friend in AvonLea?" Marilla almost dropped the glass. "A -- a what kind of friend?" "A bosom friend -- an intimate friend, you know -- a really kindred spirit whom I can confide my innermost soul. I've dreamed of meeting her all my life. I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will, too. Do you think it's possible?" Marilla returned the glass to its perfect spot. "Diana Barry lives over on Orchard Slope Avenue and she's about your age. She's a very nice little girl, active in the community and perhaps she will be a good local guide for you. You'll have to be careful how you behave yourself, though. Mrs Barry is a very particular woman. She won't let Diana play with any little girl who isn't nice and good." Anne looked at Marilla through the apple blossoms, her eyes aglow with interest. "What's Diana like? Her hair isn't naturally red, is it? Oh, I hope not. It's bad enough to have natural red hair myself and not be able to change it, but I positively couldn't endure it in a bosom friend." "Diana is a very pretty little girl. She has black eyes and hair and rosy cheeks. But she is good and studious, which is better than being pretty." Marilla pressed the last point home, but Anne waved the moral inconsequently aside and seized only on the delightful possibilities before it. "Oh, I'm so glad she's pretty. Next to being beautiful oneself -- and that's impossible in my case -- it would be best to have a beautiful bosom friend. When I lived in the corpo town in Nova Scotia, they had a face scanner we had to check in with every day. As it scanned me in, I could see my reflection in the glass and I used to pretend that it was another girl who lived in the same camp. I called her K8E Maurice, after the scanner's serial number, and we were very intimate. I used to talk to her for hours, long after the scanner had finished. K8E was the comfort and consolation of my life. We used to pretend that she was locked on the other side of the wall, and if I only knew how to hack the console, I could open the door and step right into her room. And then K8E Maurice would have taken me by the hand and led me out to the other camp. It would be a wonderful place, all flowers and sunshine and fairies, and we'd never have to sign another contract again. When they packed me into the train to come here, I had to say good-bye to K8E. I had to leave her in a place with no scope for imagination. The last scanning beeped with such sad, sad tones." Marilla frowned. "I don't approve of such goings-on. You seem to half believe your own imaginations. It will be well for you to have a real live friend to put such nonsense out of your head. But don't let Mrs. Barry hear you talking about your K8Es or she'll think you've got a faulty implant." "Oh, I won't. I couldn't talk of K8E to everybody -- her memories are too sacred for that. But I thought I'd like to have you know about them." "I would rather you look smart. Go upstairs and wash the CPU thermal paste off your hands. Make yourself presentable. The sooner we get you grounded in AvonLea, the better." <<link "A few days later, Mrs Rachel Lynde came visiting..." chapter3-9>><</link>>Anne had been a fortnight at Green Cables before Mrs Lynde arrived to inspect her. Mrs Rachel, to do her justice, was not to blame for this. A severe and unseasonable hack attack -- CacheGrippe -- had confined that good lady to her house ever since the occasion of her last visit to Green Cables. Mrs Rachel was not often hacked and had a well-defined contempt for people who had been; but CacheGrippe, she asserted, was a hack like no other and could only be interpreted as one of the special visitations of the hacker group Providence. As soon as her local runners re-enabled her doors she hurried up to Green Cables, bursting with curiosity to see Matthew and Marilla's orphan, concerning whom all sorts of stories and suppositions had gone viral on the AvonLea forums. Anne had made good use of every waking moment of that fortnight. Already she was acquainted with every shrub and tree on the farms' pontoons, as well as meeting and naming every recycler, extruder, pollinator, climate control, bioreactor and harvester. She logged onto the local LAN and found a subnet hanging off a receiver in the apple orchard, and explored it to its farthest netmask, finding all sorts of delightful loopbacks, virtual device health checks and telemetry caches. Anne was deep into a {{{/24}}} when Mrs Rachel came, capturing pre-roll video as she wandered through the lush, tremulous grasses splashed with ruddy evening sunshine. Mrs Rachel had an excellent chance to talk her hack fully over, describing every cache and buffer exploit with such evident enjoyment that Marilla thought even being targetted by cybercriminals must bring its compensations. When details were exhausted Mrs Rachel introduced the real reason of her call. "Chat has been saying some surprising things about you and Matthew." "I don't suppose you are any more surprised than I am myself," said Marilla. "I'm getting over my surprise now." "It was too bad there was such a mistake," said Mrs Rachel sympathetically. "Couldn't you have sent her back?" "I suppose we could, but we decided not to. Matthew took a fancy to her, and her parent corporation -- well I dare say she's altogether orphaned now. And I must say I like her myself -- although I admit she has her faults. The house seems a different place already. She's a real bright little thing." Marilla said more than she'd intended to say when she began, for she read disapproval in Mrs Rachel's expression "It's a great responsibility you've taken on yourself," said that lady gloomily, "especially when you've never had any experience with children. You don't know much about her or her real disposition, I suppose, and there's no guessing how a child like that will turn out. But I don't want to discourage you I'm sure, Marilla." "I'm not feeling discouraged," was Marilla's dry response, "when I make up my mind to do a thing it stays made up. I suppose you'd like to see Anne. I'll ping her." Anne came running in presently, her face sparkling with the delight of her network rovings; but, abashed at finding the delight herself in the unexpected presence of a stranger, she halted confusedly inside the door. She certainly was an odd-looking little creature in the tight wincey shirt with her ungracefully long thin legs sticking out from her combat jacket. Her freckles covered her face like signal static; the hood of her jacket had ruffled her hair into over-brilliant disorder; it had never looked redder than at that moment. <<link "\"Well, they didn't pick you for your looks...\"" chapter3-10>><</link>>"Well, they didn't pick you for your looks, that's sure and certain," was Mrs Rachel Lynde's emphatic comment. Mrs Rachel was one of those delightful and popular vtubers who pride themselves on having no filter. "She's terrible skinny and homely, Marilla. Come here, child, and let me have a look at you. O-M-G did any one ever see such freckles? And hair as red as carrots! Come here, child, I say." Anne "came there" but not exactly as Mrs Rachel expected. With one bound she crossed the kitchen floor and stood before Mrs Rachel, her face scarlet with anger, her lips quivering, and her whole slender form trembling from head to foot. - <<link "[Anne took a mindful moment, and calmed down.]" chapter3-11-fakeout>><</link>> - <<link "[Anne exploded...]" chapter3-11>><</link>>Never in all of Anne's imaginations could she conceive of a moment of stepping down from the rude Mrs Lynde. She could not. She would not. - <<link "[Instead, Anne exploded...]" chapter3-11>><</link>>"I hate you!" Anne cried in a choked voice, stamping her foot on the floor. "I hate you -- I hate you -- I hate you --" a louder stamp with each assertion of hatred. "How dare you call me skinny and ugly? How dare you say I'm freckled and redheaded? You are a rude, impolite, unfeeling NPC!" "Anne!" exclaimed Marilla in consternation. But Anne continued to face Mrs Rachel undauntedly, head up, eyes blazing, hands clenched, passionate indignation blasting from her like an overclocked heat exhaust. "How dare you say such things about me?" she repeated vehemently. "How would you like to have such things said about you? How would you like to be told that you are fat and clumsy and probably hadn't a spark of imagination in you? I don't care if I do hurt your feelings by saying so! I hope I hurt them. You have hurt mine worse than they were ever hurt before even by Mirai-Gaia's HR department. And I'll //never// forgive you for it, never, never!" "Did anybody ever see such a temper!" exclaimed the horrified, nearly bluescreened Mrs Rachel. "Anne go to your room and stay there until I come up," said Marilla, rebooting her powers of speech with difficulty. Anne, bursting into tears, rushed out, slamming every door on the way. In the echoing silence Mrs Rachel said solemnly, "Well, I don't envy you your job bringing //that// up, Marilla." Marilla opened her lips to say she knew not what of apology or deprecation. What she did say was a surprise to herself then and ever afterwards. "You shouldn't have dragged her about her looks, Rachel." "Marilla Cuthbert, you don't mean to say that you are upholding her in such a terrible display of temper as we've just seen?" demanded Mrs Rachel indignantly. "No," said Marilla slowly, "I'm not trying to excuse her. She's been very naughty and I'll have to give her a talking to about it. But we must make allowances for her. She's never been taught what is right. And you //were// too hard on her, Rachel." Marilla could not help tacking on that last sentence, although she was again surprised at herself for doing it. Mrs Rachel got up with an air of offended dignity. Marilla held up a hand to placate her. "Please stay, Rachel. I'll sort it out." <<link "Marilla pushed a plate of cake towards the woman -- which placated her more than the upheld hand -- and went upstairs with a very solemn face." chapter3-12>><</link>>On the way upstairs Marilla pondered uneasily as to what she ought to do. She felt no little dismay over the scene that had just been enacted. How unfortunate that Anne should have displayed such temper before Mrs Rachel Lynde, of all people! Then Marilla suddenly became aware of an uncomfortable and rebuking consciousness that she felt more humiliation over this than sorrow over the discovery of such a serious bug in Anne's disposition. And how was she to punish her? Long ago into her childhood society had already done away with the birch switch. Moreover, she did not believe she could whip a child. No, some other method of punishment must be found to bring Anne to a proper realization of the enormity of her offense. Marilla found Anne face downward on her bed, crying bitterly, quite oblivious of the box of cables cast from the bed across the bedroom floor. "Anne," she said not ungently. No answer. "Anne," with greater severity, "get off that bed this minute and listen to what I have to say to you." Anne squirmed off the bed and sat rigidly on a chair beside it, her face swollen and tear-stained and her eyes fixed stubbornly on the floor. Still, not noticing the cables. "This is a nice way for you to behave, Anne! Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" "She hadn't any right to call me ugly and redheaded," retorted Anne, evasive and defiant. "You hadn't any right to fly into such a fury and talk the way you did to her, Anne. I was ashamed of you -- thoroughly ashamed of you. I don't know why you should lose your temper like that just because Mrs Lynde said you were redhaired and homely. You say it yourself often enough." "Oh, but there's a difference between saying a thing yourself and hearing other people say it," wailed Anne. "You may know a thing is so, but you can't help hoping other people don't quite think it is. I suppose you think I have an awful temper, but I couldn't help it. Just imagine how you would feel if somebody told you to your face that you were skinny and ugly," pleaded Anne tearfully. An old remembrance suddenly rose up before Marilla. She had been much younger when someone left the comment on her socials, "What a pity she is such a dark, homely little thing." Fifty likes. Marilla was every day of fifty before the sting had gone out of that memory. "I don't say that I think Mrs Lynde was exactly right in saying what she did to you, Anne," she admitted in a softer tone. "Rachel is too outspoken. But that is no excuse for such behaviour on your part. You were rude and saucy and" -- Marilla had a saving inspiration of punishment -- "you must go downstairs to her and tell her you are very sorry for your bad temper and <<link "ask her to forgive you" chapter3-13>><</link>>.""I can never do that," said Anne determinedly and darkly. "You can punish me in any way you like, Marilla. You can shut me up in a dark, damp dungeon inhabited by snakes and toads and feed me only on bread and water and I shall not complain. But I cannot ask Mrs Lynde to forgive me." "We're not in the habit of shutting people up in dark damp dungeons," said Marilla drily, "especially as they're rather scarce out here in the bay. But apologize to Mrs Lynde you must and shall." - <<link "[Anne makes an honest apology]" chapter3-14-m1>><</link>> - <<link "[Anne refuses to apologise]" chapter3-14-m2>><</link>><<set $chap3AnneApologised to true>> "Well now," came a voice at the door. Matthew. "What's all the commotion about?" Marilla turned to her brother who held up his soft, grubby hand. "It's okay. Mrs Lynde gave me a briefing. If that's what you can call it." Anne wiped her face. "Oh Matthew! She was positively dreadful! I cannot go back downstairs with that horrid woman and her wicked tongue! Marilla intends for me to apologize but I simply cannot!" Marilla assessed the two of them. She had made plain what Anne needed to do and there was little more Marilla could do but repeat herself. With a nod she swept back downstairs to ensure Mrs Rachel Lynde hadn't left to publish her thoughts on the encounter. "Well now, Anne," Matthew said, picking his words carefully like they were bulbs in a tray. "Don't you think you'd better do it now and have it over with?" Anne looked down at her hands and said nothing. Matthew glanced nervously at the door and said, "Look, Marilla's a dreadful deter-mined woman -- dreadful determined, Anne. If she thinks you should, you might as well do it right off and have it over with." "Do you mean apologize to Mrs Lynde?" "Yes -- apologize -- that's the very word," said Matthew eagerly. "Just smooth it over so to speak. That's what I was trying to get at." <<link "Anne thought a moment." chapter3-14-m1-2>><</link>>"I suppose I could do it to oblige you," said Anne thoughtfully. "We are kindred spirits, after all. It would be true enough to say I am sorry. I wasn't a bit sorry before, but seeing you and Marilla, I //am// sorry. I am ashamed of myself and that I have brought such deep humiliation to Green Cables. But I can't bear going and facing Mrs Lynde downstairs. I'd rather stay shut up here forever. But still -- I'd do anything for you -- if you really want me to --" "Well now, of course I do. It'd be terrible lonesome downstairs without you. Not just me and Marilla, but the machines too. Just go and smooth things over -- that's a good girl." "Very well," said Anne resignedly. "I shall go and repent. I shall face my judgment and speak the truth. I will apologize." Anne breathed deeply and marched downstairs. Matthew, scared at his own success, made himself scarce lest the women take notice of his intervention. To Mrs Rachel Lynde's surprise, <<link "Anne appeared downstairs." chapter3-14-m1-3>><</link>>Anne appeared suddenly at the kitchen door, back straight, eyes thin with determination. Marilla welcomed her arrival, but then worried that her scheme of punishment was about to go askew. "Mrs Rachel Lynde?" said Anne clearly and crisply. Mrs Rachel pretended she had not heard her stomp down the stairs and had just now noticed her presence. "Yes?" Anne strode in front of Mrs Rachel and stopped a few paces from her. In the solid silence, Mrs Lynde squirmed. Even she wasn't sure if it was in delight or terror of <<link "what was to come" chapter3-14-m1-4>><</link>>.Anne suddenly dropped to her knees and held out her hands beseechingly. "Oh, Mrs Lynde, I am so extremely sorry," she said with a dramatic quiver in her voice. "I could never express all my sorrow, no, not if I used up all my bandwidth. You must imagine it. I behaved terribly to you -- and I've disgraced the dear friends, Matthew and Marilla, who have let me stay at Green Cables although I'm not a boy and I'm sure it's my fault the smart contract went awry. I'm a dreadfully wicked ungrateful girl, and I deserve to be punished and shadowbanned by respectable people everywhere forever. It was very wicked of me to fly into a temper because you told me the truth. It //was// the truth; every word you said was true. My hair is red and I'm freckled and skinny and ugly. What I said to you was true, too, but I shouldn't have said it. Oh, Mrs Lynde, please, please, forgive me. If you refuse it will be a lifelong sorrow on a poor orphan girl-- a change deep in my firmware. Of which I deserve, but would you forgive me and my dreadful temper? Please say you forgive me, Mrs Lynde." Anne clasped her hands together, bowed her head, and waited for the word of judgment. Mrs Lynde reeled, as if a full terabit of sincerity had been blasted into her brain in a millisecond. Marilla however understood in dismay that Anne was actually enjoying her valley of humiliation, the thorough //drama// of abasement. Anne had somehow flipped the bits on the wholesome punishment and turned it into a species of positive pleasure. Good Mrs Lynde, not being overburdened with subtle perception, did not notice any of this. She only perceived Anne's very thorough apology and was already writing the script for her video reel later tonight. "There, there, get up, child," she said heartily. <<if $chap1MarillaCutToChase>>"Of course I forgive you. I was a little too hard on you, anyway. I do try to keep it very real, but Marilla's worry and confusion over the smart contract had primed me for drama. You mustn't mind me, that's what. <<else>>"I was a little concerned that hospitality at Green Cables had seen better days --" She glanced at Marilla. "But I understand that this has been quite the ordeal, what with the smart contract and all. I was a little too hard on you. You mustn't mind me. <</if>>It can't be denied your hair is terrible red, but I knew a girl once whose hair was every red as yours when she was young, but when she grew up it darkened to a handsome auburn." "Oh, Mrs Lynde!" Anne drew a long breath as she rose to her feet. "You have given me a hope. I shall always feel that you are a benefactor. I could endure anything if I only thought my hair would be a handsome auburn when I grow up. Thank you, Mrs Lynde. Thank you, thank you." <<link "Anne curtseyed and skipped out of the room, buoyed by dreams of auburn hair." chapter3-14-m1-5>><</link>>Mrs Rachel Lynde stood up, slightly unbalanced. "Well Marilla, she's a real odd little thing. But there is something about her. I'm not surprised at you and Matthew keeping her now that I've met her -- nor sorry, either. She may turn out all right. She's got a quick temper, but she ain't never likely to be deceitful. That said, you may want to keep her occupied and perhaps spend her energy with the rest of civilized folks." Marilla nodded and her eye turned to an advertisement in her inbox. "I agree, Rachel." <<link "[Next Chapter...]" chapter4-1>><</link>><<set $chap3AnneApologised to false>> "Fine! I shall!" Anne said, immediately storming downstairs before Marilla even knew what had happened. She followed behind feeling tension ratchet in her chest. The girl stood before Mrs Lynde rigid and unyielding as a skyscraper. The woman had noticed Anne far too late and sat up abruptly with a trail of cake crumbs falling from her lips. "Mrs Lynde..." "Y-yes?" "I'm sorry..." Marilla stopped at the door, the tension releasing. "Oh, my child..." Mrs Lynde began. "Sorry you're such a horrible woman!" The room snapped taut to match Anne's pose. "I'm sorry that I'm a redhead and I'm sorry that I'm too skinny and I'm sorry that I'm ugly. And I'm sorry that you came all this way to Matthew and Marilla's fine home to find such a horrible specimen as me." Marilla reeled. By the front door was Matthew, overhearing the commotion, his skin as grey as his beard. "But I am deeply sorry that you cannot see that this is the home for me, amongst all the broken, awkward and ugly machines. I can make this place even more beautiful than it is, I promise you from the depths of my soul that I can, if you can imagine some faint hope for this broken, awkward and ugly little girl. "I am unfixable. But this place is not. Maybe I can assemble something better." And with that, Anne marched out the front door, past Marilla and Matthew, before anyone could gather their selves to respond. <<link "Marilla turned to Rachel..." chapter3-14-m2-2>><</link>>"Well!" cried Mrs Rachel Lynde. "I never have been spoken to like that in all my life!" Marilla had thought, //"But perhaps you should have..."// but for once today she caught her tongue. "I thought this place had standards! That girl is a spark in a powder-keg! <<if $chap1MarillaCutToChase>>I expected trouble from the moment you mentioned this whole silly notion of contractors, Marilla, but I did not expect this! You have quite the task ahead of you raising that child.<<else>>I dare say, Marilla, that I am beginning to wonder if I should expect this type of hospitality every time I visit this place! She is already learning from you and it's only been a fortnight!<</if>> If you cannot untangle yourself from that smart contract, you will have to teach that girl. Or have the community do so. If she is so inclined to help, there is ample to do in AvonLea." Marilla stood silent, stung. Matthew melted into the shadows, head bowed. A well-practiced determination returned to Marilla. She stood straight, entered the room and cleared the table. "I am sorry, Rachel. The girl will be taught the right thing." "I should say so, if you don't mind me saying -- and daresay I will, regardless!" "I understand, Rachel," Marilla said solemnly, her finger tapping on a printed advertisement on the kitchen bench. "And I agree. Time in AvonLea should give her a better appreciation of civility if she can't find it here." <<link "[Next Chapter...]" chapter4-1>><</link>><<set $chapterNum to 4>> \ <<set $chapterTitle to "A Tempest in the Assemblage Teapot">> \ !! Chapter 0x04 - $chapterTitle "What a splendid day!" said Anne, drawing a long breath at the sight of the entrance to AvonLea Commons. "Isn't it good to be alive on a day like this? I pity the people who aren't born yet for missing it. They may have good days, of course, but they can never have this one." <<if $chap3AnneApologised>>"Anne, goodness! I'm bringing you here to the Assemblage to listen and learn. I do hope you can control that tongue of yours. And your imagination!"<<else>>"Oh for pity's sake, Anne! I have never seen a girl so relentless in twisting punishments. Bringing you to the Assemblage is supposed to be for your own good... not, well... //good!//"<</if>> Anne nodded, although truth be told she was watching a pink drone zip overhead, corkscrewing between the cables and structures of the overpass bordering the Commons. They crossed the road under the <<if $chap3AnneApologised>>curious<<else>>watchful<</if>> cameras of Mrs Rachel Lynde's panopticon. AvonLea Commons was a seven-block-by-seven-block community area seemingly teleported in, replacing a sizable chunk of Prince Edward City's megalopolis. Towers and highways ringed the verdant, hilly area, the colour fading into metallic blue-grey the further you walked from the Commons. Inside the low walls a rhizomic network of paths passed in and around flower beds, communal vegetable patches, lush lawns and windbreaks of trees. Anne was even more enraptured with the place during the bright of day than when she passed by in Matthew's hexapod weeks earlier. She marvelled at a holographic marquee proclaiming "ASSEMBLAGE OPEN DAY. ALL WELCOME." So much so that she almost toppled backwards if it wasn't for Marilla driving Anne's shoulder forward. Marilla marched her near the sign-up tables. "Now Anne, I expect you to sign up for classes, clubs and projects. Anything to vent that furious imagination of yours somewhere away from our house. Message Matthew when you are done if you need a ride home." Anne sighed dreamily at Marilla. "Okay!" Marilla frowned. She felt like she was shaping air with her hands. There was no moulding, only directing the line of flight as it passed through. And with a gentle push, <<link "she directed Anne towards the table." chapter4-2>><</link>>Anne stumbled to a stop in front of the plastic trestle table. On the table were a variety of pamphlets for different programs, QR code stickers, and a 3D printer tirelessly extruding free coffee mugs. Two tech type kids sat there, a female hunched over a data tablet and a male with his feet up on the table. Anne stuck her skinny hand out and beamed, "Hi! I'm Anne Shirley. Oh I'm so pleased to make your acquaintances, it's been so long since I've met people my own age. And to think it's in such a wondrous place as..." The male flicked their fringe off their face, and mumbled to the other: "Yeah. This one's for you, DB." The female sat up from the table and pushed her way through the outstretched legs. She collected her thin data tablet and stood in front of Anne. "Don't mind them. Welcome to AvonLea Commons, home of the Assemblage. Would you like a tour?" <<link "\"I would love nothing more!\" Anne swooned." chapter4-3>><</link>>Anne's tour took a lazy circle around the Commons, taking in all the sights. The interconnected parks were abuzz with activity: wide-ranging frisbee games, the initial makings of a pop-up barbeque, tables of free zines, picnics, and information booths for community and corporate interests alike. Intermingled with the activities were regular Prince Edward Island citizens bustling through, and not only a few, Anne noticed, gave her guide a friendly nod. Her guide kept regular reference to her tablet as they spoke. "AvonLea Commons is a rare jewel in the Prince Edward Island crown. It's long been maintained as a public commons and nature reserve by philanthropic families in the area. They prevent the encroachment of skyscrapers and factories, and provide free of charge a beautiful, walkable space." Anne sighed, almost floating on tiptoes. She quickly dropped to her knees at a flower garden and asked, "May I?" Her guide nodded and updated something on her tablet. Anne plucked an assortment of pastel pink and white flowers and quickly wove them into her hat as a wreath. As she stood up, two identically grey-clad youths strode past. One bounced into Anne's shoulder saying, "Nice hat, normie!" Their compatriot chuckled, "Lol, so cringe." Anne's face went as red as her hair, flicking between anger and embarrassment. "Don't mind them. Jerks. As you can see despite best efforts the corpos still invade this space and stink up the place. Are you okay?" Anne nodded, smarting not so much from the collision but still from her experience with Mrs Lynde a few days ago. <<link "\"Come on, there's more I can show you.\"" chapter4-4>><</link>>"And over here we have the jewel of AvonLea Commons, our community school and makerspace: the Assemblage." Anne gasped. Against one edge of the Commons stood a stately public schoolhouse. Or at least it used to be. Part of the building was crusted over with wild vines with network cables tangled throughout. Two windows had been punched out and replaced with a large plastic chute -- or as suggested when someone gleefully slid from top to bottom, a slide. Not one surface was left unmodified, but neither was any particular modification "complete". "Let me show you through. The building has a fantastic history. There's clubs and lectures on all the time. Do you make?" After a brief inspection of her arms to remind herself where it was, Anne showed the girl various burns from soldering irons and hot glue guns. "Ah, lovely. There's a great space inside with everything you might want to tinker with, physical or digital. Let's go look." The guide offered an arm and <<link "they strode in." chapter4-5>><</link>>Some time after, the two girls emerged from the building. Anne continued to be swept along in a wave of amazement. Her guide was delighted but slightly weary. "So, wait," Anne asked, concerned. "I thought the building was the Assemblage?" Her guide smiled and nodded. "It is. So are the people. The Assemblage is everything it does!" As with many other things that morning, Anne sighed in love with that idea. The two girls enjoyed the sun for a moment, wondering what to do next. Anne stole a glance at her friend's raven black hair, sharp black eyes and cheeks rosy in the sun. "Oh, hey, I've been talking far too much," said her guide, an expression Anne had not heard others utter to her often. "I'm Diana, by the way, Diana Barry. People around here call me DB. There's just so much fascinating history to explore, I forget to introduce myself sometimes." Anne shook her hand, slack-jawed but then vigorously. "DB... Diana Barry, oh I get it!" Diana laughed and waved her tablet about. "And the whole history notes thing." Diana always laughed before she spoke. Anne clasped her hands together and whispered, "Oh Diana, do you think you could like me a little -- enough to be my bosom friend?" Without consulting her tablet for once, she laughed and said, "Why yes, I guess so!" "Would you vow to be my friend forever and ever?" "I would not mind that at all!" The girls joined hands. Anne added gravely, "We ought to make this vow over running water. I assume under the ground here are some water pipes. That'll do. I'll repeat the oath first. I solemnly swear to be faithful to my bosom friend, Diana Barry, aka DB, as long as the sun and moon shall endure. Now you say it and put my name in." Diana repeated the "oath" with a laugh fore and aft. Then she said: "Bosom Friends. That's a good name for a CTF team." Anne cocked her head. "CTF?" "Capture the Flag? Tech puzzle hunts? Hack virtual servers for fun and cheap prizes?" If it were possible to beam excitement any more fervently, Anne would be. <<link "Diana laughed and said, \"Oh you're in for a treat, then.\"" chapter4-6>><</link>>Anne and Diana stood at the end of a line for CTF sign-ups. Diana explained, "They moved to in-person sign-ups. Someone, of course, ruined it for everyone one year." Anne leaned out and looked down the line at two dozen nearly identically-grey-garbed corpo types. "How many people per team? This seems like an awfully large group." Diana frowned and referred to her tablet. "Usually only four or five." At this, one of the grey-garbed kids walked back down the line. She was a plainly beautiful blonde girl with a purple ribbon in her hair matching the purple accent edges on her grey suit. Diana brought up a personal notes page and quietly angled it towards Anne. It read: "Josie Pye. StrataCorp. Beware." "Why hello, DB," sang Josie Pye. "What's this you've found?" Anne, who was assuredly neither found nor merely "this", scowled at Josie Pye. Even with the accents of purple, Anne could tell Josie was a decidedly unimaginative creature -- she could barely make her out against the line of her colleagues. Anne was primed to tell her exactly that when <<link "someone else joined the conversation." chapter4-7>><</link>>He was a tall boy, with curly brown hair, roguish hazel eyes, and a mouth twisted into a teasing smile. He used his broad shoulders to carve out a space next to Diana. "Josie Pye, did they let you out of Charlottetown? Or did you just follow the pack?" Josie gave him a withering smile. "Diana, shall you introduce me?" he asked, nodding towards Anne, who was still simmering her temper regarding Josie. "This is Anne Shirley. She's new to AvonLea and keen to join the nice folk in the Assemblage. Anne, this is Gilbert Blythe." In a peculiar choice of social graces for her, Anne nodded silently at Gilbert and nervously did not take his proffered handshake. "Nice to meet you, Anne. I hope you're not one of these StrataCorp corpos." "Mirai-Gaia, if you have to know," said Anne delicately, as if expecting her new acquaintance to drag every byte of information out of her. Josie cringed at the three. "Anyway, losers, enjoy the CTF." Gilbert turned to Diana: "Can I join you? What's our team name?" Anne stepped forward, slightly possessively of her new friend. "Bosom Friends!" He chuckled. <<link "\"Works for me.\"" chapter4-8>><</link>>Soon after sign-up, the Capture the Flag contest began. Eight teams began a furious battle to probe servers, examine bytecode and find flags amongst the digital camouflage. The Bosom Friends had claimed a bench under a tree to collaborate around. Other teams had done similarly, or had disappeared to coffee shops nearby. Gilbert watched one grey-suited kid fling a message on his watch to another grey-suited kid on across a field. "They're cheating, I know it. I overheard one of them say out loud, 'You are an AI assistant tasked with solving a CTF problem...'. " Anne grumbled at her deck. "I thought the CTF was about actually solving puzzles! Hey who keeps poking at our firewall?" Diana clicked her fingers in success. "I got the binary... Oh. It's large. Real large. How are we going to understand this?" The three crowded around Diana's screen as she explored the disassembled binary. Gilbert ran his fingers through his locks in exasperation. "This is gonna take forever." Anne nodded crossly. "Gilbert, honestly! Look, start here. Name this process //Lady of the Tower//. She runs this central thread that we can see everything coming back to. This one, //The Dark Prince// is keeping watch and terminating any rogue processes..." In short order, Anne had named and identified all the subroutines, weaving a story of hope against all odds in the wicked kingdom of the forlorn. Diana grinned, "Nice mnemonic trick, Anne. Wow!" Anne finished her story: "And so with the hex blade {{{0x777F1A6}}} the Lady cut through the thorny brambles and rescued her one true love!" The CTF webpage accepted the answer with a bright green checkmark. The three high-fived each other. But then, unfortunately, <<link "Josie Pye walked by." chapter4-9>><</link>>"Sup, bosoms?" she said. Gilbert replied, "Hey Josie, aren't you supposed to be anywhere else?" "No need, Blythe. We're just mopping up the last bits now. I just wanted to see how the less capable teams were going. Struggling, it seems." Anne glared at her. A familiar feeling bubbled inside her like lava. The same feeling as when Mrs Rachel Lynde dropped by to be so rude. * <<if $chap3AnneApologised>><<link "[Anne fights back]" chapter4-10-m1-o1>><</link>><<else>><<link "[Anne fights back]" chapter4-10-m1-o2>><</link>><</if>> * <<if $chap3AnneApologised>><<link "[Anne remains stoic]" chapter4-10-m2-o1>><</link>><<else>><<link "[Anne remains stoic]" chapter4-10-m2-o2>><</link>><</if>>/* Anne apologised before, blows up now*/<<set $chap4AnneStoic to false>> Anne's face was red with a furious calculation. Mrs Rachel Lynde was extremely rude, but she was a friend of Marilla and Matthew, so must not have been that horrid a person, all things considered. And one could imagine her mistake given the curse of her lack of imagination. She was rude and clumsy, but not cruel. Josie Pye, however, was blessed with all the gifts of the world. She had the full support of her contractor and wasn't thrown into a train to be disposed of. And even worse -- Josie had long, beautiful blonde hair. And despite all these gifts Josie thought best to come over to be mean, mean and cruel to a poor skinny, //red-haired// orphan. Right in front of her new friends. "How dare you! How dare you come over here and be so thoroughly awful to us! You have no right!" Anne poked a finger into Josie's chest, her eyes fierce and tinged with red. Josie was taken aback at Anne's quick explosion. "Jeez, lay off the stims." Anne wasn't finished. "You have no right to be proud and mean. Bragging about other people's accomplishments, whipping around your blonde hair... when you've got no heart, no soul, no mind at all!" Josie put a fist on her rounded hip. "The red-haired kid is going to say //I// don't have a soul? Really?" Although Gilbert was always ready for banter, he had seen the line well and truly crossed. He inserted himself between the two girls and broke it up. "Let's call it there. Don't waste your breath on her, there's plenty more corpo cutouts where she came from. Let's go, team." Diana took Anne's hand and led her away. Gilbert shook his head at Josie and followed them. The CTF was over. <<link "Or at least the fun was." chapter4-11>><</link>>/* Anne didn't apologise before, not going to now*/<<set $chap4AnneStoic to false>> In the midst of her seething rage, a curious thought came to Anne. When she came to a beautiful place such as Matthew and Marilla's, a horrible person like Mrs Lynde would show up. When she came to a beautiful place like AvonLea Commons and the Assemblage, Josie Pye would show up. Wherever there were roses, there were thorns. Anne wasn't going to apologise before, and she surely wasn't going to now. She stamped her foot and stuck her face right into Josie Pye's. "How dare you! Do you think you can just strut around and be mean for no reason, no reason at all? The only reason you're here is that you can't do the puzzles. I knew the moment I saw you, you had no imagination at all. Your heart and soul is as grey -- as grey as your suit! You might have your corpo friends and your portable HPC and your blonde hair, but you're dull and mean and of no use to anyone at all!" Josie reeled. "Whoa, okay, psycho." She flashed an endearing smile to Gilbert who merely bounced it back with a frown. Diana too just shook her head at Josie, barely hiding a proud smile regarding Anne's explosion. "Well, whatever," Josie stammered. "I'll see you on the leaderboard. We're the ones at the top!" Gilbert gave Josie a sarcastic clap as she strode away. Diana gave Anne a hug and checked on her. Anne wept away a hot tear and whispered, <<link "\"Leaderboard?\"" chapter4-11>><</link>>/* Anne apologised before, stoic now*/<<set $chap4AnneStoic to true>> Anne hoped she was not one to make the exact same mistake twice. And while she might make an apology to an elder like Mrs Rachel Lynde, there was simply no way she would do the same to Josie Pye. So Anne summoned all her energies to sit stoically still until Josie left. The three of them collectively stared at her, letting the silence lean on Josie. "Okay, weirdos... I'm just playing," she muttered and walked away. When she was sufficiently distant, they sighed in relief. Diana broke the silence, "Okay, we'll finish this last puzzle and then let us go check the leaderboard. I think we've earned a smoothie." Anne continued to stare daggers between the letters of "StrataCorp" on Josie's back, but eventually softened to <<link "help with the last puzzle." chapter4-11>><</link>>/* Anne didn't apologise before, stoic now*/<<set $chap4AnneStoic to true>> It was patently outrageous that Josie Pye should stoop so low to insulting Anne and her friends. Josie was blessed with so many things -- deep corporate backing, and blonde hair -- that she should by all rights not need to punch down. She deserved to know her place, her luck. Anne's fists clenched. But in her mind's eye she could see Marilla, who had sacrificed so much to let her stay at Green Cables. Marilla had weathered one of Anne's insistence on justice. Could she do it again? Would Marilla care about this corpo kid? Anne turned to her bosom friend, Diana. Her deep, soulful eyes told her gently as a touch from an apple blossom: "Don't. It's not worth it." With a deep breath out, Anne let the anger go. A Zen calm settled on her. For one full moment she heard a bird flitting about a tree. She remembered that one should never make uncharitable speeches, even though they do slip out occasionally. Anne simply couldn't respond to Josie Pye without making an uncharitable speech, so she decided then and there to never mention her at all. "Diana, Gilbert, I think we're done for the CTF. Let's go check the leaderboard," she said with iron politeness. Diana took Anne's hand and they walked off. "Gilbert, honey, you don't mind a bit of banter, don't you?" started Josie, trying to block the handsome boy's escape. He gave her a dismissive wave, said nothing, and <<link "followed his team mates to the Assemblage." chapter4-11>><</link>>The three of them stood aghast in front of the holographic leaderboard. <<nobr>><div id="leaderboard"> <table> <tr><th>Place</th><th>Team</th><th>Score</th><th>Time</th></tr> <tr><td>1</td><td>StrataCorp1</td><td>10/10</td><td>1:22:01</td></tr> <tr><td>2</td><td>StrataCorp5</td><td>10/10</td><td>1:27:39</td></tr> <tr><td>3</td><td>StrataCorp2</td><td>10/10</td><td>1:27:40</td></tr> <tr id="bosomfriends"><td>4</td><td>Bosom Friends</td><td>10/10</td><td>1:38:23</td></tr> <tr><td>5</td><td>StrataCorp3</td><td>10/10</td><td>1:58:01</td></tr> <tr><td>6</td><td>Burger with the `Lotte</td><td>9/10</td><td>2:07:11</td></tr> <tr><td>7</td><td>StrataCorp4</td><td>7/10</td><td>-:--:-</td></tr> <tr><td>8</td><td>Rather Vivid Chromo</td><td>3/10</td><td>-:--:--</td></tr> </table></div><</nobr>> Gilbert sighed. "Yep, they cheated. At least we get a prize." Diana took Anne's hand. "It's okay, I had ever so much fun with you. I enjoyed watching you work, Anne." "It looks like they need names or handles to 3D print onto the prizes," said Gilbert, trying to joke around to ease the tension. "They've got mine. DB, you're obvious. Anne, what shall we put you down as?" Anne was too despondent at the result to have an immediate answer. Gilbert had one, though. "Carrots?" he joked, glancing at her hair with a mischievious smile. Immediately, Anne looked at him with a vengeance! She did more than look, she sprang across the distance between her and Gilbert, snatching up Diana's tablet mid-stride. She flashed one indignant glance at Gilbert's quickly fading grin. "You mean, hateful boy!" she exclaimed passionately. "How dare you!" And then -- //thwack!// Anne brought Diana's tablet down on Gilbert's head and cracked it -- tablet not head -- clear across. The Assemblage always enjoyed a scene. This was an especially enjoyable one. <<link "[Next Chapter...]" chapter5-1>><</link>><<set $chapterNum to 5>> \ <<set $chapterTitle to "Anne to the Rescue">> \ ! Act II - Assembly !! Chapter 0x05 - $chapterTitle In the cosy drawing room of the stately Barry home, Anne and Diana sat together quietly. This would be a surprising feat for Anne, although she was already busy navigating revisions of an apology whilst attending to the repair of Diana's tablet. She disabled the optical zoom on her visor and looked at Diana. Diana looked rather refined and beautiful on her couch, rhythmically looping a needle through her patchwork quilt. "Anne, did you know they used to make these by hand all the time? There's something to be said about the historical crafts." Anne carefully traced the crack in the glass tablet with clear liquid. She held her breath as she placed down the sealing tape -- no bubbles. She flicked the UV lamp on and finally found the courage to speak. "Diana, I am ever so sorry about your tablet." Diana laughed, "It's okay. I had it all backed up to the cloud. I wouldn't be a good historian if I didn't! I don't know why you are so determined to repair it, my parents can easily replace it." Anne flipped the tablet over and squarely fixed a portable 3D printer. A laser grid beamed over the surface and refined a virtual topology over the plastic crack. Anne ensured the setup was stable and balanced, then hit "Fill" and watched the nozzle go to work. Anne recited: "//We don't discard useful little things.// That's what Matthew says. Well, he would say it if he spoke. He's frightful shy but he and I are kindred spirits, so I just //know// it's something he'd say." <<link "Diana finished off a square as Anne supervised the printer." chapter5-2>><</link>>Anne blew the remaining filament dust off the tablet and booted it up. It was as good as new. Diana waited expectantly for it, but Anne dived into her bag. "Diana, I am eternally sorry about your tablet and making such a scene. Marilla suggested that I make amends, so I've fixed your tablet. But I have also brought you a gift." Anne balanced an exquisite artisanal bottle of red liquid on top of the tablet. "I know you like homemade crafts, so I brought this raspberry cordial from Green Cables. Marilla made it and I'm sure she won't mind if we share it. I didn't ask, but still I'm sure. I chose the reddest one -- red cordials taste twice as good as any other color." Diana laughed and poured herself a tumblerful. She started to pour Anne some before being stopped: "No, you have it. It's a gift to you. In any case, I don't feel like I want any after that Red Sweetings slushie I had on the way over." Diana sipped it daintily, both girls laughing at the airs of it all. "That's awfully nice raspberry cordial, Anne," she said. "It's so much better than the one Mrs Rachel Lynde sells, even though she brags of hers so much on her channel. Marilla's is so much nicer. It doesn't taste a bit like Mrs Lynde's." Anne laughed and folded up the 3D printer. Diana took another swig of cordial and smiled at Anne. "Were you going to join me at the workshops next week at the Assemblage?" Diana asked innocently enough. "Gilbert Blythe will be there." Anne grumped and put her gear into her backpack. "I'm sure he will be. No matter what class I take, he is there, being awfully competitive. Awful and competitive." "He's //aw'fly// handsome, Anne. Don't mind his teasing. He torments all the girls." Diana's voice indicated that she rather liked having her life tormented than not. "All the girls? I saw his name at the top of Julia Bell's //Take Notice// web poll." "Yes," said Diana, tossing her head, "but I'm sure he doesn't like Julia Bell so very much. I've heard him say he broke a triangulation algorithm on her freckles." "Oh, don't speak about freckles to me," implored Anne. "It isn't delicate when I've got so many. But I do think that writing take-notices on social media about boys and girls at the Assemblage is the silliest ever. I should just like to see anybody dare to write my name up with a boy's. Not, of course," she hastened to add, "that anybody would." Anne sighed. She didn't want her name written up. But it was a little humiliating to know that there was no danger of it. "Nonsense," said Diana, whose black eyes and glossy tresses had played such havoc with the hearts of Assemblage boys that her blocklist was a page long. "It's only meant as a joke. And don't you be too sure your name won't ever be written up. Charlie Sloane is //dead gone// on you. He told his mother -- his //mother//, mind you -- that you were the smartest girl in the Assemblage. That's better than being good looking." "No, it isn't," said Anne, feminine to the core. "I'd rather be pretty than clever. And I hate Charlie Sloane already. I can't bear a boy with cybernetic eyes. If anyone wrote my name up with his I'd never get over it, DB. But it //is// nice to keep head of your class." "Well, you'll enjoy having Gilbert in your classes. He's used to being head of the class and won't mind the competition." <<link "Anne rolled her eyes at Diana as she lay back on the couch." chapter5-3>><</link>>Anne continued to defend herself from Diana's suggestions of Gilbert Blythe and take-notices, and all the gossip of the Assemblage. Anne noticed it got easier and easier to parry Diana's increasingly clumsy ripostes. "DB? Are you okay?" Diana sat forward and swayed. "I'm -- I'm awful sick," she said, a little thickly. "I -- I -- must go to bed." "But Diana, it's only 4pm!" "I must go to bed," repeated Diana, stupidly but determinedly. Anne rushed over and guided Diana back down on the couch. She draped Diana's half-finished quilt across her. "Are you sick?" "I'm awful dizzy," said Diana, closing her eyes languidly. Anne's eyes grew wide as she checked her friend over. She seemed okay if a little flushed, so Anne fanned her with the repaired tablet. To Anne's confusion Diana merely lay back and <<link "fell soundly asleep." chapter5-4>><</link>>"What's wrong with Diana?" came a tiny voice. Anne jumped and saw little Minnie May Barry in the doorway. "Oh Minnie May, an awful sickness has come over Diana all of a sudden!" "Is she okay?" Anne looked into the little girl's eyes and froze. "She looks sleepy," said her sister. They both watched Diana roll over, pulling the quilt down tight, Diana's black tresses rolling over her face. "It's okay, she's prolly reading too much. I'll look after her." Anne was at a loss at what to do, and soon enough found herself vacantly stumbling down the main streets of AvonLea, a thousand possibilities swarming in her head. Each of them in turn were as horrifying as the last. The further she walked down the jetty towards Green Cables, the more her eyes welled with tears. As she arrived, she could just make out <<link "Marilla on the front step." chapter5-5>><</link>>"Whatever has gone wrong now, Anne?" queried Marilla in doubt and dismay. "I do hope you haven't gone and been saucy to Mrs Lynde again." No answer from Anne save more tears and stormier sobs! "Anne Shirley, when I ask you a question I want to be answered. Sit down right this very minute and tell me what you are crying about." "I was visiting Diana Barry today at her family house. All was going okay, I swear, and then Diana came down in an awful state all of a sudden." Marilla frowned "Was she poorly before? What happened?" Then an insistent buzz came through on Marilla's messenger. And another. And another. Marilla read the messages in blank amazement. "Anne are you or Diana crazy?" she said when she found her voice. Anne sobbed, confused. "You got Diana drunk! What were you children up to?!" Anne seemed as astonished as Marilla, if such a thing was possible. "Drunk? What do you mean?" "What were you doing? What on earth did you give her?" In a moment of judgment amongst the chaos, Marilla noted that Anne herself was utterly sober in stance and scent. "Not a thing! I mean, I gave her a gift of your raspberry cordial, but I never thought raspberry cordial would set people drunk, Marilla!" "Drunk fiddlesticks!" said Marilla, <<link "marching to the pantry." chapter5-6>><</link>>Marilla flung open the cabinet door, but found a complete set of raspberry cordial from the last pressing. She rose slowly and scanned the room. There on the top shelf, amongst a batch of currant wine, one was missing from the array. She grabbed another bottle and returned to Anne. Her face was twitching in spite of herself. "Anne, you certainly have a genius for getting into trouble. You went and gave Diana currant wine instead of raspberry cordial. Didn't you know the difference yourself?" Anne looked at the faded label and only now did the raspberries actually look like currants. "I -- I never tasted it. I thought it was cordial. I meant to be friendly and hospitable with a gift..." Marilla looked at her messages. "Well her mother has found her. She's fine but has a fearful headache. I should imagine so. Even if it were cordial it'd be enough to make her sick. She shouldn't have been so greedy and drink so much." Anne continued to sob. "There, there, child, don't cry. I could see how you were to make the mistake. I should have labelled the bottles more carefully. I can't see you were to blame although I'm sorry it happened so." "I must cry," said Anne. "My heart is broken. The stars in their courses fight against me, Marilla. First Mrs Lynde, then Josie, then this. I expect Diana and I are parted forever, when you or Mrs Barry punish my wickedness. Oh, Marilla, I little dreamed of this when first we swore our vows of friendship." "Don't be foolish, Anne. I will not punish you, for as I said, I believe it was a mistake and you weren't to blame. Mrs Barry will see it for the silly joke or misadventure that it is. <<link "Leave it with me." chapter5-7>><</link>>"Gilbert poked his head in the door of the lab. He had scouted almost the entirety of the Assemblage to no avail. Through the window of a whirring laser cutter, he saw two red braids slumped on a table. "Anne?" he asked, taking a stool opposite her, "are you okay?" "Go away, Gilbert Blythe. Can't you see I am in the depths of misery? That nothing could possibly console me?" "Hey look, sorry about the carrots thing... I brought you some Mayflowers." Anne swiftly took them, opened the hatch and let the lasers dissect them. "I would say sorry about your head, but it is my dear Diana who has been wronged. By her bosom friend! Can you imagine such a wretched fate?" "What happened?" asked Gilbert as he watched the flowers neatly fall apart and catch fire a little bit. "If you must know," spat Anne, "I accidentally got her drunk on Marilla's currant wine. Oh I was sure it was raspberry cordial! It was so similar!" Gilbert hid a smile behind his hand, attempting to nod solemnly. "And moreover, when Marilla went to straighten it out with Mrs Barry, the situation turned even more sour! The things Mrs Barry said about me. I can stand your teasing, but Mrs Barry--the mother of my most dearest soulmate--she said I was not fit to associate with Diana, and was never to see her again. I wasn't even given ten minutes to squeeze an eternal farewell in. I am forever to exist under a dark cloud of woe!" Gilbert ignored the snickering from others in the lab and said, "Don't mind her. Mrs Barry will soon come around. Everyone at AvonLea knows you're a good student and a good person. If Mrs Barry doesn't know that now, she will eventually." Anne's cold response: "Are you still here?" Undeterred but aware of his unwelcome, he nodded to Anne and got up to leave. He could hear Charlie Sloane's optical zoom adjust and the boy was coming in to fill the gap. Josie Pye smiled at Gilbert and pointed to a spare seat beside her. <<link "Suddenly, the door burst open." chapter5-8>><</link>>Little Ruby Gillis stood in the doorway, trying to catch her breath. "Where's DB? Diana Barry?" Anne sprang to her feet. "What's happened?" "It's Minnie May! She's -- she's in trouble!" Gilbert and Anne looked at each other. "Anne, I'll find Diana. You go see what's wrong." Anne refused to agree in words with Gilbert, but <<link "left with Ruby all the same." chapter5-9>><</link>>A crowd had already formed in the VR lounge by the time Anne and Ruby got there. Anne pushed through two Strata boys who found the whole situation very funny. Diana's little sister Minnie May, all of six years of age, lay stiff-limbed on a couch, two tendrils of VR cables trailling from her temples. Her eyes were a chilling white and her jaw ground slowly but loudly. The machine next to her was lit up brighter than usual. The students stood around Minne May, bewildered and helpless. "Should we unplug her?" Anne nudged them back with a shoulder. "No! Give me room. I know exactly what to do. There weren't many VR terminals in the MG town, and they all got hacked regularly. I've seen this before. Just get me cables." <<link "Anne went to work with skill and promptness." chapter5-10>><</link>>There were several things evident to Anne's sharp eyes. Network inbound and outbound traffic was far beyond expected. Minnie May had no possession of data troves like her sister might, so they weren't stealing anything of use. Perhaps they were streaming video or VR sensory data out. Next: Minnie May was in quite a state. Anne wiped sweat from the poor child's brow and whispered, "It's going to be okay." How Anne wanted to scoop her up in her arms and hug her tightly! But she needed a clear mind and a quick solution. She hoped it didn't involve mathematics. She glanced at the gawping crowd -- no Gilbert yet. Anne snapped her laptop open and made preparations. Scanning the logs it looked like somehow Minnie's rig was set to "developer mode". Anne filed that curiosity away for later. New software had just this morning been dropped onto the operating system and a cavalcade of network ports had been opened up. This was an extremely loud hack. With a few failsafes enabled on her own machine, Anne slipped her old stodgy VR headset on and <<link "joined Minnie's session." chapter5-11>><</link>>Anne got her bearings. Above her, tall, nondescript trees stretched high up into an indistinct forest canopy. A requisite density of bushes and grasses littered the ground. //It was all very plain and cute,// Anne thought. //Very shallow imagination on the implementation. Maybe we can fix that later. At any rate, not at all what she expected from the outbound traffic and shrieking logs.// With a few pokes into the now-open developer mode, she identified the level as //Little Red Riding Hood//. It was likely a social interaction simulator for children. Up ahead, she saw Minnie May crouched down against a tree, hands on her ears, tucked into a little ball. Anne tiptoed up and whispered to the girl. No response. Just above the clearing was a camera, floating in mid-air, watching Minnie May intently. Anne launched a diagnostic from her virtual arm PC and <<link "then crouched down to Minnie May." chapter5-12>><</link>>This is when Anne saw it. A vaguely rose-colored shimmer around Minnie May, vibrating occasionally like the glass walls of a club. Anne carefully reached through the veil and saw her hand turn black and gnarled. When she whipped it back, it was pale and slender again. With a resolute frown, she edged her head into the bubble. As soon as she entered a dreadful cacophony of sound and images pummelled her like a ferocious storm. Poor Minnie May was at the center of that maelstrom. It looked like whoever was responsible for this hack had jumped in, put a horrific reality layer in between the girl and the world, and was filming the reaction. That explained the outbound traffic. But who? Anne almost asked herself, "And why?" but with a sour grimness, she knew why. They were likely watching her now. She hid her red hair in her hat. Anne had to move quickly. She had two options: * <<link "Gently free Minnie May from the reality bubble, giving them the time to shut down and wipe their tracks." chapter5-13-o1>><</link>> * <<link "Halt the network feed, grab the evidence, but risking a delay to Minnie May's safety." chapter5-13-o2>><</link>>/* Rescue Minnie May */ <<set $chap5rescuedMinnie to true>> Anne quickly locked an animation of a cross pixie to the camera. "No no no!" it chided, covering the feed. Using the same backdoor as the attackers, Anne overwrote the VR set's firmware with something from her library, popping the bubble into a confetti of impotent hatred. The world split into diverging scanlines and reconfigured into a wholly new scene. Minnie May was startled to be suddenly underwater, hand held high, holding something heavy but important. In an instant, she was pulled up out of a lake and dragged to the shore. Spluttering and sobbing, she dropped the sword she had been holding as a calm, firm hand rested on her shoulder. As she opened her eyes, she saw Anne dressed like a mighty king and felt a weight slip from her tiny shoulders. Anne smiled, "I behold Minnie May! The girl that rose from out the bosom of the lake! You're going to be okay!" Anne hugged her tight and gracefully terminated the VR session. <<link "[Next chapter...]" chapter6-1>><</link>>/* Rescue evidence */ <<set $chap5rescuedMinnie to false>> Anne ejected herself from the simulator and while her eyes were still swimming from the reality shunt, she hijacked the network feed on the VR desktop. She looped the video traffic back to a void device and guessed at the command-line for dumping the firmware and logs. It was messy--all the filenames were horrible like {{{a.log}}}-- but it was done. Without a moment to appreciate the sting, she ran Diana's app to do entity recognition on the logs. Progress bars plodded along with dread indifference. One of the Assemblage classmates wiped the sweat from Minnie May's forehead. The poor girl was squirming but locked in. The script finished and Anne ripped the cord out. A constellation of lights around the lounge dulled and the tension in Minnie May snapped and she slumped to the side. She gasped and blinked at the room. Anne hugged her tight. Over Minnie May's head a dutiful prompt came back: "Entities found. Strong likelihood." She could hear snickering and laughing receding down the hallway. The report finished with: "Found: StrataCorp network sockets. StrataCorp entities." <<link "[Next chapter...]" chapter6-1>><</link>><<set $chapterNum to 6>> \ <<set $chapterTitle to "Anne Gets Griefed in an Affair of Honour">>\ !! Chapter 0x06 - $chapterTitle Marilla closed the call and the house was quiet again. Anne was upstairs sleeping all afternoon. She had weathered the adulation and attention of the Assemblage all morning, after the rescue of little Minnie May, but had dutifully dragged herself back home for her chores. Matthew had seen Anne's white little face and the dark shadows under her eyes, and although he had not heard of Anne's heroics, he gently nudged her in the direction of a nap. She had protested only a moment that she ought to be looking after her machines, but with a yawn, admitted defeat and accordingly went to bed. She had slept so long and soundly that it was deep into the afternoon before she re-emerged. Not even the noise from Marilla's video call had woken her--though perhaps the aromas of dinner did. Marilla had news to tell Anne, but she did not tell it just then for she knew if she did Anne's consequent excitement would lift her clear out of the region of such material matters as appetite or dinner. When Anne had finished the last bite on her plate, Marilla said: "I got a vid-call from Mrs Barry. She wanted to talk to you directly, but I wouldn't wake you up. She said you saved Minnie May, and she is very sorry she acted as she did in that affair of the currant wine. To everybody. She says she knows now you didn't mean to set Diana drunk, and she hopes you'll forgive her and be good friends with Diana again. Now, Anne Shirley, for pity's sake don't fly up into the air." The warning seemed not unnecessary, so uplifted and aerial was Anne's expression and attitude as she sprang to her feet, her face a fusion reactor of her spirit. "Oh, Marilla, can I call her right now--without washing my dishes? I'll wash them when I come back, but I can't tie myself down to anything so unromantic as dishwashing at this thrilling moment." "Yes, yes, run along," said Marilla indulgently but then, "Anne Shirley--are you crazy? At least take the stairs one at a time, you will break your neck! I might as well call to the wind." <<link "Anne had already punched in a connection before Marilla had a chance to shake her head in astonishment." chapter6-2>><</link>>Matthew was having a rough ten minutes of it. He had come into the kitchen after a long day rethreading the sprinklers in the fogponic field, slightly cold and damp and very weary. He took his jacket off stiffly--his left shoulder was never the same after the surgery--and was unconscious of the fact that Anne and a bevy of her friends from the Assemblage were having a hacker jam in the sitting room. Until they came trooping through the hall and into the kitchen for a drink, laughing and chattering gaily. They did not see Matthew, who shrank bashfully back into the shadows behind the composter with his jacket up like a thin leather shield. He watched them shyly for the aforesaid ten minutes as they joked about MCP exploits and prompt trojans. Matthew angled himself to watch the crew of girls type furiously and laugh freely. Anne stood among them, bright eyed and animated as they; but Matthew suddenly became conscious that there was something about her different from her mates. And what worried Matthew was that the difference impressed him as being something that should not exist. Anne had a brighter face, and bigger, starrier eyes, and more delicate features than the others. Even shy, unobservant Matthew had learned to take note of these things; but the difference that disturbed him did not consist in any of these respects. Then in what did it consist? Anne directed the girls with a wave of the hand not unlike a conductor of an orchestra. "We need someone to optimise a prompt injection. Oh, I would use my laptop but it is so unwieldy and slow! The poor thing just chugs out heat. Diana, can you run the sims for it?" Matthew watched, frozen. A video codec wouldn't have registered him--no motion vectors, no frame change. "Oh thank you, dear Diana. I don't know why I persist with this slab of silicon. Wearables are so fashionable now. It would be so wonderful to lace a dress with computational fibers and have capability literally at your fingertips. Of course heat exchange is a problem, but in one of those lovely new puffed sleeves, of course! You wouldn't have that problem at all." <<link "The girls all agreed, the newest of fashion must be the best, especially when it came to wearable computational efficiency." chapter6-3>><</link>>Matthew continued to watch and puzzle over it. Every word of Anne's lit up her companions. Her winsome little jabs at herself were met not with laughter, but a soft, affectionate frown. Even in her plain jacket and shirt, she was a beacon of light amongst her better-dressed friends. When the girls declared victory and spilled out of Green Cables for celebratory smoothies, Matthew finally relaxed and hung up his jacket. He remained haunted by the question. He could not lean on Marilla for an answer as he felt she would be quite sure to sniff scornfully and remark that the only difference between Anne and the other girls was that they sometimes kept their tongues quiet while Anne never did. This, Matthew felt, would be no great help. He spent the evening watching screensavers on his old dusty terminal, all three a relic of another time. In the cavalcade of swirling geometries Matthew arrived at a solution of his problem. Anne was not dressed like the other girls! When Anne had arrived in her military contractor hand-me-down jacket and fuzzy top, she was dressed much more plainly than the regular resident of AvonLea. Marilla had kept her clothed in plain, dark clothes, all made after the same unvarying pattern. If Matthew knew there was such a thing as fashion in dress it was as much as he did; but he was quite sure that Anne's sleeves did not look at all like the sleeves the other girls wore. The other girls had sleeves of every colour and configuration, adorned with LEDs and iridescent fabrics, and woven through with low-power computers. He wondered why Marilla always kept Anne so plainly and soberly gowned. Of course, it must be all right. Marilla knew best and Marilla was looking after her. Probably some wise, inscrutable motive was to be served thereby. But surely it would do no harm to let the child have one pretty dress--something like Diana Barry always wore. Matthew decided that he would give her one; that surely could not be objected to as an unwarranted putting-in of his oar. <<link "Matthew wiggled the mouse and began to search online." chapter6-4>><</link>>Weeks passed and Anne had settled into a rhythm with Green Cables and the Assemblage. It was at times a syncopated rhythm of scrapes and mishaps -- the less said about Anne's liniment cake episode, the better -- but dependable nonetheless. Marilla had survived the liniment cake episode, and then barely held on during the fuss about pearl earrings -- Minnie May by way of Mrs Barry had gifted Anne pearl earrings for her daring rescue, which Anne accepted without yet having her ears pierced and insisted, no pleaded, with Marilla to journey into AvonLea for the requisite trivial surgery. Matthew attended to the farm, quietly, although he did have a flurry of excitement hiding a flat gift box delivered to him while the females were otherwise occupied. This particular Tuesday Anne strode through the corridors of the Assemblage, arm-in-arm with Diana. They had to angle and weave through the crowds. "DB, I have never seen the Assemblage this busy! You've certainly seen a lot more of it, on account of your long history with AvonLea, have you seen it thus?" Diana sidestepped a Strata corpo standing in the middle of the hallway like a treacherous rock on a river. "Never! So many of these Strata come-latelies!" she replied, frowning at the cavalcade of grey tech jumpsuits. "And it's oh so very loud now! We should go somewhere quieter!" Diana had lost hold of Anne's elbow and fell behind a few paces. "What did you say?" In the rock tumbler of a hallway, the bright gem of a smile fell into the mix. Gilbert walked next to Anne, dodging corpo bodies as they passed. "Hi, Anne! Are you going somewhere to study? Can I join you?" Diana, rejoining her bosom friend, nodded. Anne however refused to look at him. "Gilbert Blythe, you know what you said to me. I dare not set myself for further injury by insults!" Gilbert, only mildly fazed, chuckled in defence. "I said I was sorry! When do you think we can let this be water under the bridge?" "An eternity, at least!" Anne said with a slight stamp of her foot. Diana shrugged at him with a wince and <<link "the girls continued on" chapter6-5>><</link>>. Gilbert stood in the bustling hallway, pushed a hand through his mop of hair and smiled."Gilbert's okay, don't you think?" Diana suggested, with a laugh. "DB, what he said to me on the open day was a //grave insult//. That is, one that I shall take to the grave, because that's what a //grave insult// means, or at least, it should be what it means." "I think you should give him a... uh-oh..." said Diana, slowing. "Whassup, bosoms?" cheered Josie Pye. Her crew sat across the furniture in the study room Anne and Diana had intended to retreat to. "Oh. Josie. Hello," said Anne in a wholly unfamiliar deadpan. "What are you bosoms up to?" Anne frowned. "We were just studying, Josie Pye. Perhaps you should try it sometime?" The girls around Josie twittered and snickered. Josie rolled her eyes. "Well we were just hacking this drone that we found on the roof." "I sincerely doubt you have the skills to get it going," Anne said. She had thoughts of several extra words to append to that sentence, but she could feel the reproach of Marilla prickling her neck. "Oh yeah?" Josie unreeled a screen from her shoulder holster and her whole suit illuminated as she began to type furiously. Within minutes the weathered little drone sputtered to life and rose into the air. Josie flicked her controls and it whizzed out the door, barely missing Anne and DB. Both girls ducked in time. Anne stood up stiffly and tossed her red braids. "I don't think it's such a very wonderful thing to charge a drone and fly it using an open API," Anne huffed. Josie smirked. "You don't? Well we've been finding //all sorts of things// this morning. A drone on the roof. This laptop in the gardens. There's no open API on a laptop. It looks locked down. Really tight. No-one could get in. //You couldn't//, anyhow." "Couldn't I?" cried Anne rashly. "Then I dare you to do it. Hack this box." Daring was the fashionable amusement among the Assemblage small fry just then. It began with the boys but soon spread to the girls, and all the silly things that were done in AvonLea that summer because the doers thereof were "dared" to do them would fill a hard-drive by themselves. Josie Pye uncovered a rather earthy laptop -- peeled stickers, scars from dragging, and even a light scorch mark. This laptop had seen more of this world than these girls had put together. Anne turned pale, but there was clearly only one thing to be done. As she spun the laptop towards herself, the room gasped partly in excitement, partly in dismay. "Don't you do it, Anne," entreated Diana. "You don't know where that's been or what it has done. You log in and you'll get ICE'd. Never mind Josie Pye. It isn't fair to dare anyone to do anything so dangerous." * <<link "\"I must do it. My honor is at stake,\" said Anne solemnly." chapter6-6-1>><</link>> * <<link "\"If my soul mate does not want me to do it, then I shall not,\" said Anne solemnly." chapter6-7-1>><</link>><<set $chap6iced to true>> "I must do it. My honor is at stake," said Anne solemnly. "I shall walk its directories, Diana, or perish in the attempt. If I am zapped, you are to have my pearl earrings." Anne slid the two laptops across the table and perched over them. After laying down the usual prerequisites of firewalls and the like, she plugged them together. Diana bit her thumb in nervousness. The Strata corpo gang all crowded around. Anne tapped away furiously, her eyes shining with diagnostic readouts. With a few more commands, she struck the keyboard in defiance. "I'm in," she said. Josie Pye's smile faded and soured. About as quickly as Anne's laptop fan was spinning up. A diagnostic turned rose-red and Anne was startled. Josie's smile returned and Anne got more and more desperate. Filters were laid down, fat-fingered, corrected, but still insufficient. The screen went blank, but the fan was screaming. With a celebratory //pop!// of sparks and burp of smoke, Anne's laptop was toast. Anne fell forward onto the table onto her arms. "Anne, are you killed?" shrieked Diana, throwing herself on her knees beside her friend. "Oh, Anne, dear Anne, speak just one word to me and tell me if you are killed." To the immense relief of all the girls, and especially of Josie Pye -- who, in spite of lack of imagination and a corpo's sense of ethics, had been seized with horrible visions of a future branded as the girl who was the cause of Anne Shirley's early and tragic death -- Anne sat dizzily up and answered uncertainly: "No, Diana, I am not killed, but I think my laptop has been, and I am rendered unconscious." The room went quiet for a second and the corpo girls erupted into laughter. Diana swept up Anne and the remnants of her laptop and <<link "they left the Assemblage." chapter6-6-2>><</link>>An awful feeling struck Marilla and she put down her knitting. She could hear the unmistakable crying of Anne Shirley. Marilla ran to the door. Anne plodded through the front garden of Green Cables, dried tears like curtains down her face and her still-smouldering laptop hanging from her limp hand. Diana trailled behind solemnly. At that moment, Marilla was struck through with the revelation that while she might admit to others that she liked -- nay was very fond of Anne, seeing the poor girl so devastated had made Marilla bound towards the girl and gather her up. The truth was, Anne was dearer to her than anything else on earth. "What has happened to her?" Marilla gasped, more white and shaken than the self-contained, sensible Marilla had been for many years. Anne herself answered, lifting her head. "Don't be frightened, Marilla. I had tried to rescue a laptop and it was trapped with counter-measures. I expect my rig is destroyed. But, Marilla, I might have been VR flatlined. Let us look on the bright side of things." Marilla had at once a measure on the theatrics of the situation and returned to her usual composure. "VR flatline indeed. While it appears your laptop took the brunt of it, I am glad you are unhurt." Anne swooned, "But I //am// hurt. What is a poet without her pen? What is a painter without her brush? I am laid low, not just by the destruction of my one and only rig, but the tragedy of being bested by Josie Pye will live heavy on my heart for..." Marilla dismissed Anne's theatrics. "Enough of that. Give Matthew your laptop for disposal. Diana, thank you for escorting Anne home. I shall take it from here." Matthew took the bulging pile of electronics and <<link "began to calculate to himself, punchcards flicking more than silicon buzzing." chapter6-6-3>><</link>>Anne laid out on the couch, acting very near death. Marilla frowned at the shoes on her couch, but for once, said nothing. "Oh Marilla, I do believe my life is disaster following disaster! I have found such a warm home in Green Cables, but still disaster follows me! <<if $chap3AnneApologised and $chap4AnneStoic>>I have done my best in the face of egregious insults but one can't always be at their best, can they? Are we supposed to be perfect diamonds?<<elseif not $chap3AnneApologised and not $chap4AnneStoic>>I have tried to hold my ground, but I am just one girl!<<else>>I know I am not a perfect girl -- and perhaps will never be -- but I try, Marilla, I do try.<</if>>" "You're an unlucky child, there's no doubt about that," said Marilla. "But your imagination may be your greatest hazard rather than Josie Pyes or somesuch." Anne swooned again. "Well now that I am bereft of rig, my imagination shall be my only food. I dare not return to the Assemblage." Matthew appeared at the doorway, hiding something behind his back. "Well now, perhaps don't be so hasty..." Taking on a very substantial risk for himself, he presented a large flat box. Anne snapped up and looked at Matthew, daring not to breathe. Marilla gave him a look of confusion and mild annoyance -- but far less annoyance than he had expected. <<link "Anne bounced from the couch and opened the box." chapter6-6-4>><</link>>"Oh Matthew, it is //magnificent!//" sang Anne, as she twirled about the living room floor with her new puffy-sleeved wearable computer dress. It was a lovely soft brown gloria with all the gloss of silk; a skirt with dainty frills and shirrings; a waist elaborately tucked in the most fashionable way, with a little ruffle of telemetric lace at the neck. But the sleeves -- they were the crowning glory! Long elbow cuffs with fingertip sensors, and above them two beautiful puffs with a computational matrix decorated with bows of brown-silk ribbon. Anne pressed a hidden button and subtle strips of LEDs glowed through the dress. "That's a Christmas present for you, Anne," said Matthew shyly. He looked over at his sister, expecting seven varieties of excoriation. "Well, well, Anne. I thought you might have to go without a computer for a while, as a teachable demonstration that you didn't need it. But since Matthew has got one for you, see that you take good care of it. You must not ruin a Christmas gift before it is even Christmas," said Marilla plainly. Anne, starry-eyed, said in return, "Of course, Marilla. I shall only use it in the most special of occasions." <<link "[Next Chapter...]" chapter7-1>><</link>><<set $chap6Iced to false>> "If my soul mate does not want me to do it, then I shall not," said Anne solemnly. After catching the cue from Josie, the corpo girls all erupted into raucous, mocking laughter. It would be one thing to try and fail a dare, but to back down earnestly and kindly was a fate equivalent to an eternity of shame. As soon as Anne was ringed with their laughing faces, her face flushed beet red which only encouraged more jeers. DB hooked Anne's elbow and with an insistent tug, pulled her out of the room and tried to escape the mockery. Even as they rushed along the gardens of AvonLea, the newly-acquired drone trailled them with the sound of a shrill blown raspberry. They fled to the Barry residence where they could no longer be pursued, and <<link "Anne could cry to Diana as long and as loud as she liked." chapter6-7-2>><</link>>Later that afternoon, Matthew stood surveying Green Cables, partly out of pride, but partly out of his old pacemaker wasn't as robust as it used to be. Sunlight shone through the rafters of the warehouse, catching the vapor clouds with a beautiful array of rainbows. Then he saw Anne dragging herself bodily along the jetty, tears streaking down her face and her laptop dangling loosely by her side. Matthew froze. A curious sensation insisted he catch up with the girl when his natural inclination would be to find work behind some obscuring container shed. While stuck between the drives of the natural and the new, Anne saw him and made a sobbing beeline to him. "Oh Matthew, woe is me!" "Well now, er, what seems to be the trouble?" Matthew offered, the last of his repertoire of lines. "Oh Matthew I have done the silliest thing. I pushed Josie Pye into a dare and she returned the favour. I just knew that it was too dangerous and my laptop is so pitifully weak. No matter how I optimise it, it won't possibly be sufficient for anything serious like that. It is like me and my red hair -- forever doomed to be a recluse, an outcast, no good for society at all!" Matthew frowned deeply. This was way beyond his ken. He looked over at the house for Marilla, but then his eyes crossed over his secret hiding place. It presented an option -- a risky option for it had not yet been audited by Marilla -- but one that could not be better suited to the current situation. His only other option was to console the poor girl with his wits and social graces... <<link "He grabbed the box." chapter6-7-3>><</link>>"Stuff and nonsense!" cried Marilla. Anne twirled her new puffy-sleeved wearable computer dress. "Don't you think it's magnificent?" "And tell me again why you have this dress?" "Oh dearest Matthew bought it for me. He was ever so fast getting it -- or I guess he had it in waiting for me -- but nonetheless because we are kindred spirits he knew what could lift me out of the depths of despair." Matthew, leaning against the wall not so much for support as ablative cover, caught Marilla's eye and quickly slunk away into the kitchen. "Depths of despair? This dress? What is the world is going on?" "Aren't you very sorry for me, Marilla? Josie Pye dared me something fierce and yet I thought //I must not do such a silly thing lest Marilla be disappointed//. What would you have done, Marilla, if you had been dared to hack a disreputable laptop?" Anne's puffed-sleeves' LEDs pulsed as a firmware update continued incognizant of the conversation. "I'd have kept my gear bundled up and let them dare away. Such absurdity!" said Marilla. Anne sighed. "I tried to have your strength of mind, Marilla. I couldn't. I tried to bear Josie Pye's scorn but it was so much. She intends to crow over me for the rest of my life. And I think I have been mocked so much that you needn't be very cross with me. Matthew's gift repairs my broken heart and reminds me of the support you both have given me." At that moment Marilla had a revelation. She had had that sudden stab of fear when she saw the tear-streaked face of Anne, and it pierced her very heart that she realized what Anne had come to mean to her. Normally she would have admitted that she liked Anne -- nay, that she was very fond of Anne. But as she had rushed to the crying girl she knew that Anne was dearer to her than anything else on earth. And, deeper still, she admitted she was jealous that she was not the one to bestow Anne with beautiful gifts but her timid brother. "There, there, I'm not cross. You are an unlucky child, there's no doubt about that; but as you say, you'll have the suffering of it. I will expect you to take exceptional care of this new dress -- this is a rare move by Matthew and you shan't see its like ever again." Anne, starry-eyed, said in return, "Of course, Marilla. I shall only use it in the most special of occasions." <<link "[Next Chapter...]" chapter7-1>><</link>><<set $actNum to 3>> \ <<set $chapterNum to 7>> \ <<set $chapterTitle to "The VR Story Club is Formed">> ! Act 3 - Linking !! Chapter 0x07 - $chapterTitle It was a glorious October morning in AvonLea Commons, all red and gold as the autumn sun slid through the skyscrapers and alighted on the paths and parks surrounding the Assemblage, scaring all the delicate mists of the morning out under the highways and into the bay. A heavy dew had settled where sunlight had yet to reach the leaves. Anne and Diana strode and skipped and danced through the gardens, talking as hard as they possibly could. "Oh isn't it positively divine to be out here amongst the trees and the bustlings of Prince Edward Island? Every person we pass is another story yet to be told," sighed Anne, tickling a row of branches so they shivered and showered along the footpath. Diana took a photo of Anne with her tablet and laughed. "Well, there may be stories out here but there's certainly too much drama in the Assemblage!" Anne stopped and cocked her head, processing Diana's curious twist of phrase. "While I would normally proclaim that there is no such thing as too much drama, I have to admit, DB, the Assemblage has been wholly too adventurous for me of late. I //do// love drama and adventure, but perhaps less so if it is happening to me! Marilla agrees of course. On the one hand she continues to be ever-so-patient with my adventures, but also dares not take me out of the learning environment. I am doing my duty to stay out of trouble which mostly means staying out of the Assemblage except for my classes, teachings and hobby clubs." <<link "Diana nodded vigorously." chapter7-2>><</link>>"Now that we are thirteen, I suppose we should expect such excitements and troubles. Life is just more interesting when you are thirteen than plain old twelve. DB, just think in two more years I'll be really grown up. I'll be able to use all my favourite big words then without being laughed at." "Ruby Gillis says she means to have a beau as soon as she's fifteen," said Diana. "Ruby Gillis thinks of nothing but beaus," said Anne disdainfully. "When her name appears on the //Take-Notice// forums, she pretends that it has been hacked and makes such a fuss about it. But if I am to be a proper thirteen-year-old, Marilla says I should not make uncharitable speech, even if it slips out on occasions. Worse than Ruby Gillis, I simply can't talk about Josie Pye without making an uncharitable speech, so I never mention her at all. You may have noticed that since the incident." Diana laughed and nodded. "But I suppose its not uncharitable speech if one was to say something true, an objective fact. So I can't be blamed for noticing that Josie has not got a lick of imagination to her! I'm simply stating a fact. Of course my besetting sin is imagining too much and forgetting my duties. I'm striving very hard to overcome it and now that I'm thirteen perhaps I'll get on better." "I wish I had your imagination, Anne," said Diana. "I can't manage to write that composition we have due next Monday. The idea of being asked to write a story out of our own heads! No historical facts at all!" "Why, it's as easy as wink. You just need to cultivate it," said Anne cheeringly. "I've just thought of a plan, DB. Let you and me have a story club all our own and write stories for practice. We'll implement them in VR so we can enter each other's and help out." "What a splendid idea! But I guess we should keep it outside of the Assemblage, what with the previous goings-on," said Diana warily. "Yes! And for protection we should write them under a //nom-de-plume//. Mine is Rosamond Montmorency -- I used it first for my story //'The Jealous Rival; or In Death Defragged'//. And no boys are allowed! <<link "We cannot expect to run a VR story club with boys intruding and making a mess." chapter7-3>><</link>>""I think this VR story-writing business is the foolishest yet," scoffed Marilla. "You'll give yourself cyberpsychosis if you're not careful. You should be putting this effort into your lessons. Or chores." Marilla laid the last two words heavy on Anne's shoulders, but she shrugged them off without a second's notice. Matthew continued to eat his dinner and watch the two bounce off each other. Anne swallowed her food so she was clear to protest. "But we're so careful to keep it on-theme and to put a moral in them all, Marilla. All the good people are rewarded and all the bad ones are suitably transformed by their punishment. I'm sure that must be a wholesome effect, especially in VR. I read my most recent one to Matthew and he said it was nice." Matthew suddenly became very interested in the precise geometry of how he cut his meat and would not look up. Marilla rolled her eyes. "We have a few new girls now: Ruby Gillis and Jane Andrews joined last meeting," said Anne, counting them off with her fingers. "With DB and myself also contributing we now have a decent portfolio of stories. We made vids of the best ones and sent them to Diana's aunt Josephine. She messaged back that she had never read anything so amusing in her life. That kind of puzzled us because the stories were all very pathetic and almost everybody died. But any positive reaction is a good reaction, I think. I have to think we are doing some good in the world. I feel like we are." "The way I feel at present, Anne," said Marilla, "is that you've spent all your time talking and little of your time eating, and now we are finished and your food is cold. You've turned a simple meal into a pulpit speech. <<link "Learn to focus on your tasks and talk afterwards." chapter7-4>><</link>>"Jane's chat window righted itself as she settled into an egg chair in a quiet room of the Assemblage. "So what are we doing again?" In the upper-right quadrant Diana sipped her tea in her parents' lounge. "A special writing exercise." In the lower-left quadrant, Ruby leaned in and asked conspiratorially, "Anne? Will there be any beaus?" Anne walked through the back lots of Green Cables, dappled afternoon sun cascading over her face. She kept the camera on her puffed sleeves high, recording her face. She stared closely into the screen, scratched at a freckle on her nose and then composed herself. "No Ruby Gillis, there will not be. And what did I say in the invite? Only //nom-de-plumes// for security. Refer to me as Cordelia Montmorency. Diana is Geraldine Seymour." Diana lifted her tea to camera. "Now that we've covered security, they say to have the true heart of a writer one needs lived experiences to draw upon. //Realistic// experiences. So to that end..." Anne summoned an animated emoji of a drum roll. She turned the camera to a small wooden jetty hanging from the Green Cables pontoon. Moored to it was a little boat of Matthew's that he used to catch fish if any remained in the bay. Or if he had vexed Marilla sufficiently to require protection. "We shall re-enact the Lady of Shalott. It is such a beautiful, tragical tale. You can be the maidens on the bank bidding me adieu as I set off for Camelot. Hopefully in the VR you can see me as Lady Elaine and can forget my red hair and freckles." "What's with the boat?" asked Ruby timidly. "Ah, to inspire us with some verisimilitude..." Anne noticed a pause amongst the girls and added: "Lifelike." "Huh?" asked Jane. "It's VR." "It won't look nearly as good if I am lying still on a bed somewhere," suggested Anne. She took a careful step onto the boat and steadied herself. <<link "\"See you inside.\"" chapter7-5>><</link>>The veil of simulation slipped over the girls and a oil painting vista greeted them. A dim river expanded out towards the horizon, towards Castle Camelot. Each girl was in a dark hood except for Anne, who stood uncomfortably in a long, flowing linen dress. "I understand," said Anne gravely, "that it is ridiculous for Elaine to have red hair, but nothing can be done about it. Diana or Ruby should be in my place, but I only just found this boat. It will have to do." Diana surreptitiously pulled a screen from her robe and compared Anne to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:John_William_Waterhouse_The_Lady_of_Shalott.jpg">Waterhouse's 1888 Elaine</a>, shrugged her shoulders and dismissed the screen. "The real boat should make this more lifelike, but don't worry, I have fastened it to the dock." Ruby poked at the oil impression of a tuft of reeds and asked, "What should we do?" Diana suggested, "We should recite the poem and see you off on your epic journey!" Anne agreed to that and awkwardly lay herself down in the boat. The girls reminded themselves that they were only loosing the ropes in VR, with the real ropes secured far away, and gently pushed Lady Anne out into the river. <<link "The girls gasped dramatically, but then tried to subtly summon crib notes in their VR periphery." chapter7-6>><</link>>Diana shouted to Anne, "Hey Anne, stop rocking the boat!" Anne was indeed oscillating far more than necessary and daresay more than verisimilitude should warrant. "It's... it's okay!" shouted Anne as the boat skittered its way across the river. <<link "Diana frowned and opened up a window out of VR." chapter7-7>><</link>>Diana readily patched herself into the camera system at Green Cables. Anne had left a secure port open for her so Diana could watch Anne do her chores, and they could pretend to use candle-signals to communicate, piped through a video feed from Green Cables to the Barry residence in downtown AvonLea. She snapped to every different camera, trying to find Anne. She found two things: an empty dock, and Gilbert Blythe completing a gig delivery to the neighbours of Green Cables. She quickly dialled the boy. "Hello? DB?" said Gilbert. Without a single wasted word, Diana explained the problem and directed the boy to the dock to find Anne. Partway there he ran into Matthew, who was curious at the commotion and sudden visitor. They did a frantic exchange of information and made their way towards the jetty. Matthew trailled behind, thumping a fist on his underefficient cybernetic heart. "You -- you get her," puffed Matthew. <<link "Gilbert did not wait around to be asked a second time." chapter7-8>><</link>>Matthew's fishing boat was drifting slowly along the pontoon, threatening to move out into the bay and towards the shipping lanes. Inside the boat, Anne lay peacefully, ignorantly, with her hands crossing her special dress. Gilbert buzzed Diana. "I see her! Can you tell her to unjack?" Diana dismissed her screen and looked back at the veneer of virtual oil painting. Anne was already out on the river and her chosen soundtrack accompaniment pounded dramatically through the space. Diana recovered her virtual screen. "Gilbert, no. She's too far away." Gilbert kept pace with the boat but was running out of pontoon. "I know what you mean." "I can't bump her out from here, it's too dangerous, like Minnie May," Diana said, a quiver in her voice betraying her attempt at calm. Gilbert needed to choose. * <<link "Quickly pull her out before she goes too far." chapter7-psych>><</link>> //(Psychological risk but physically safer)// * <<link "Let her drift into the bay while he attempts to coax her from VR." chapter7-physical>><</link>> //(Physical risk but psychologically safer)//<<set $chap7PhysicallySafe to true>> With a muttered word Gilbert sprinted for the end of the pontoon and by holding onto a lightpole, managed to lean far out over the water like a starfish, hooking his toe into the corner of the wayward boat at the last second. He spun and pulled the boat to starboard where it spun, and bumped into the pontoon ungently. A wave dipped and pulled the lip of the boat under the buoys of the pontoon. When the wave rose again, the boat unceremoniously dumped Anne out. Gilbert's hand found Anne's before she sunk below the surface and he pulled her out, wet, startled and--worst of all--undignified. She scrambled up onto Green Cable's outer pasture and her dress initiated emergency drying procedures. Gilbert stood above Anne as her dress ballooned loudly, drowning out Anne's cross welcome back to the real world. When all was said and done, it appeared Anne's only injury was embarrassment. Girl, dress and boat were unscathed and entirely in Gilbert's debt. A mortal wound, if you asked her, but not even a scratch under anyone else's assessment. Before Anne had a proper chance to be audibly cross at Gilbert, Matthew jogged up to join them. "Well--" he gasped for air. "Well now, thank you Master Blythe. I'm sure Anne is much obliged." "It's no trouble, Mr Cuthbert," replied Gilbert. "Just repaying a little debt." Anne's cross face softened under a queer realization found in Gilbert's hazel eyes. It was harder than ever to keep up the bitterness of her old grievance, but she managed it. She turned away from Gilbert, her dress still deflating and drying. "Well now, you could at least join us for dinner..." Anne's red face shot laserbeams at Matthew. Gilbert declined. "If Anne is okay now, I must keep going. I wouldn't want to get in the way of her retelling of this afternoon to Marilla." Anne nearly went thermonuclear but Matthew rested his hand on her deflating puffy shoulder. "Thank you, Gilbert," he said. <<link "\"Anne, let us walk back the long way.\"" chapter7-matthew>><</link>><<set $chap7PhysicallySafe to false>> Gilbert's eyes darted around for a clue. The enormous bundle that gave Green Cables its name plunged into the sea nearby. If she was using VR, Gilbert guessed, she needed a substantial backend to a central server... Gilbert raced over and plugged his portable PC into an empty jack. He ran some diagnostics and... bingo! He found a network bridge where he could intercept Anne's session and coax her back. <<link "\"DB, patch me in!\"" chapter7-physical-2>><</link>>"Anne... Anne..." came a disembodied voice. Anne lay in the increasingly unsteady boat, her hands determinedly crossed. She frowned, eyes still closed, "Ruby Gillis, I thought we said no boys!" "Anne! It's Gilbert. You're drifting out to sea!" "Gilbert?" Anne sat up in her boat, still rocking contrary to the expected physics. Up ahead, a bridge painted into view. "Anne, grab the bridge, then pull yourself out." "Why are you in our private club, Gilbert Blythe? Are you trying to get a better grade by spying on our stories?" "Anne, for goodness' sake, grab on!" Something in the boy's voice spurred her into action. She held her arms out wide and hugged the bridge. It felt peculiarly cold and wet, and not as stonelike as the VR image suggested. The VR soundtrack cut short. The girls ran along the bank and yelled to her, "Anne, disconnect!" Anne kept an embarrassing tight hold on to the newly-formed bridge, did the hand signals for a soft shutdown and <<link "faded from the simulation." chapter7-physical-3>><</link>>Anne returned to the real world, hugging a buoy and was significantly further into the bay than she had ever wanted to be. Back at Green Cables, Gilbert waved broadly for her attention. Matthew stood next to him, piloting a small drone trailling an extension cord. Anne carefully took her hand off the buoy and onto the cord that towed her back to safety. Gilbert offered his hand but Anne disdained assistance when she returned, preferring instead to scramble up onto the dock in her puffed sleeves and damp skirt. "I'm very much obliged to you," she said haughtily as she turned away and towards Matthew. Matthew took a faltering step backwards, unsure if he wanted to intervene in the situation. "Anne, I'm glad you're okay. Can't we be good friends? I'm awfully sorry I made fun of your hair at the open day. I only meant it as a joke. Besides, in truth I think your hair is awfully pretty now. Let's be friends now that you are saved." For a moment Anne hesitated. She had an odd, newly awakened consciousness under all her outraged dignity that the half-shy, half-eager expression in Gilbert's hazel eyes was something that was very good to see. Her heart gave a quick, queer little beat. But the bitterness of her old grievance--salted by the indignity of her trip into the bay--promptly stiffened up her wavering determination. "No," she said coldly. "I shall never be friends with you, Gilbert Blythe; and I don't want to be!" "All right!" Gilbert checked his watch with an angry color in his cheeks. "I've got more deliveries to make. I'm sorry I stopped by! I won't make the mistake again!" Gilbert jogged away from Green Cables, leaving shy Matthew with Anne. He rubbed his chest and put his arm around her. <<link "\"Come, Anne, let's go back to the house. But we'll take the long way around.\"" chapter7-matthew>><</link>>Matthew and Anne walked the boat back to the jetty, a rare quiet moment for Anne as she defragged the afternoon's adventure in her mind. The tiring, yellowing sun glittered through the skyscrapers of Prince Edward Island, its warm splendor resting on the happy boughs of the orchards. A smile returned to Anne's face as she watched a pollinator robot flit through the trees. Matthew walked slowly with bent head; Anne, tall and erect, suited her springing step to his. "You've been working too hard today, Matthew," she said reproachfully. "Why don't you take things easier?" "Well now, I can't seem to," said Matthew as they passed from the orchards to the fogponic pontoon. "It's only that I'm getting old, Anne, and keep forgetting it. I've always worked pretty hard and I'd rather drop in harness." "If I had been the boy you sent for," said Anne wistfully, "I'd be able to help so much more now and spare you in a hundred ways. I could find it in my heart to wish I had been, just for that." <<switch $salvaged>><<case "seed">>Matthew took a glance at the seed separator, happily rumbling away.<<case "soil">>The soil cultivator churned away in the warehouse, wiggling its claw as if to wave to them.<<case "power">>Matthew took a glance at the power regulator thrumming with the last of the afternoon's sun.<<default>>Matthew looked over the many machines blessed by Anne's gentle touch.<</switch>> "Well now, I'd rather have you than a dozen boys, Anne," said Matthew patting her hand. "Just mind you that--rather than a dozen boys. And everything you do for the Assemblage, I reckon they'd say the same thing. They all look up to you. A girl--my girl--my girl that I'm proud of." He smiled his shy smile at her as he went into the yard. Anne took the memory of it with her when she went to her room that night and sat for a long while at her open window, thinking of the past and dreaming of the future. Outside the skyscrapers of PEI were a pale neon in the moonlight; the city was sighing after a full day of troubles but the promise of something more tomorrow. The trees of Green Cables shivered in the breeze and settled for the evening. Anne always remembered the silvery, peaceful beauty and fragrant calm of that night. It was the last night before sorrow touched her life; and no life is ever quite the same when once that cold, sanctifying touch has been laid upon on. <<link "[Next Chapter...]" chapter8-1>><</link>><<set $chapterNum to 8>> \ <<set $chapterTitle to "A Unix Epoch in Anne's Life">> !! Chapter 0x08 - $chapterTitle Anne sat at her workbench, chin on her hand and sighing deeply. She was looking for inspiration in the bundle of white narcissus she had picked--it was long before Anne could love the sight or odor of white narcissus again. Across the bench was Matthew's old mechanical clock. She had diagnosed what needed to be fixed, but she couldn't fabricate the part: no-one kept schematics of these devices any more. At least not in the public domain. "Matthew--Matthew--what is the matter? Matthew, are you sick?" It was Marilla who spoke, alarm in every jerky word. Anne turned to see Matthew standing in the porch doorway, his messenger in his hand, and his face strangely drawn and gray. Anne scattered the flowers as she ran from the shed; Marilla sprang from the kitchen. They were both too late; before they could reach him Matthew had fallen across the threshold. "He's fainted," gasped Marilla. "Anne, call for help--quick, quick!" Anne dialled for emergency and saw Mrs Lynde on the jetty on an errand. Anne waved her down, panicked. <<link "Mrs Lynde arrived to find Anne and Marilla distractedly trying to restore Matthew to consciousness." chapter8-2>><</link>>Mrs Lynde pushed them gently aside, tried his pulse, and then laid her ear over his heart. She turned off her video recorder and looked at their faces sorrowfully and the tears came into her eyes. "Oh, Marilla," she said gravely. "I don't think--we can do anything for him." "Mrs Lynde, you don't think--you can't think Matthew is--is--" Anne could not say the dreadful word; she turned sick and pallid. With a deep, genuine sorrow never beheld by her channel, Mrs Lynde said, "Child, yes, I'm afraid of it. Look at his face. When you've seen that look as often as I have in this city you'll know what it means." <<link "Anne looked at the still face and there beheld the seal of the Great Presence." chapter8-3>><</link>>The helivac crew arrived soon after and confirmed Mrs Lynde's suggestion. The featureless chrome visor of the primary paramedic looked at his diagnostic kit and stated the facts: "His heart stopped when his pacemaker did. Death was instantaneous." The women's distraught faces reflected in the visor. "It, er, was probably painless." Anne gathered up Matthew's messenger and held it to her chest. As the empty helivac returned to the city, news spread quickly. For once, Mrs Lynde could have been on the crest of that wave but chose not to. All day friends and neighbors thronged Green Cables and came and went on errands of kindness for the dead and living. <<link "For the first time shy, quiet Matthew Cuthbert was a person of central importance; the white majesty of death had fallen on him and set him apart as one crowned." chapter8-4>><</link>>When the calm night came softly down over Green Cables, the old house was hushed and tranquil. In the parlor lay Matthew Cuthbert in his coffin, his long gray hair framing his placid face on which there was a little kindly smile as if he but slept, dreaming pleasant dreams. There were flowers about him--sweet old-fashioned flowers which his mother had planted in the homestead garden in her bridal days and for which Matthew had always had a secret, wordless love. Anne had gathered them and brought them to him, her anguished, tearless eyes burning in her white face. It was the last thing she could do for him. She lay the last bunch across the clock she could not fix for him. "Anne, do you need company tonight?" asked Diana. "Thank you, Diana," Anne looked earnestly into her friend's face. "I think you won't misunderstand me when I say I want to be alone. I'm not afraid. I haven't been alone one minute since it happened--and I want to be. I want to be quite silent and quiet and try to realize it. I know a Matthew who wasn't dead, and I need to bring that man over the threshold. I need to do this and deal with this horrible dull ache." Diana did not quite understand. Marilla's impassioned grief, breaking all the bounds of natural reserve and lifelong habit in its stormy rush, she could comprehend better than Anne's tearless agony. <<link "But she went away, leaving Anne along to keep her first vigil with sorrow." chapter8-5>><</link>>Anne hoped that the tears would come in solitude. It seemed to her a terrible thing that she could not shed a tear for Matthew, whom she had loved so much and who had been so kind to her. Matthew who had walked with her last evening at sunset and was now lying in the dim room below with that awful peace on his brow. She could not transition from her mechanical survival to where her heart needed to be. She needed tears to let her know she was somewhere new and dark and sad. But no tears came. Just the same horrible dull ache of misery that kept on aching until she fell asleep, worn out with the day's pain and excitement. ----- In the night she awakened. The stillness and darkness hung about her and then drew away like a wave as the recollection of the day came over her, this time a wave of sorrow. She could see Matthew's face smiling at her as he had smiled when they parted at the gate that last evening--she could hear his voice saying, "My girl--my girl that I'm proud of." <<link "Then the tears came and Anne wept her heart out." chapter8-6>><</link>>Not long after they carried Matthew Cuthbert over his homestead threshold and away from the floating fields he had tilled and the orchards he had loved and the trees he and his robots had planted; and AvonLea settled back into its usual hustle. Even at Green Cables affairs slipped into their old groove but always with the aching sense of "loss in all familiar things". Anne, new to grief, thought it almost sad that life could go on. That the territories of love and grief could coincide, and remind one of the other. Sunrises always fell on a new day regardless of old property. ----- Anne's work at the Assemblage continued. She would catch herself whooping at delight with Diana when a tricky compile succeeded. She would devote herself anew every time, in honor of Matthew. Her devotion was paid in kind; the Assemblage gave her more responsibilities and ownership, if such a thing made much sense at the Assemblage. <<link "She worked and looked after Marilla, and returned the very next day, every day, like clockwork." chapter8-7>><</link>>One grey afternoon Anne sat by herself in AvonLea Commons, intending to study but finding the words hard to latch on to. To add to her annoyance, a drone hovered high above her, its whirr drilling into her head. Suddenly, something light bounced off her head and the drone zipped away. It was a ball of paper with "PLZ OPEN" written on the outside. Paper! Actual paper! Her first thought was of Diana, who very much enjoyed stationery, but would be aghast at crumpling it up so. And there was no careful penmanship. Perhaps someone who didn't want to write an email... <<link "Anne unfolded the ball of paper." chapter8-8>><</link>>It was a curious note. Barely any words, like a mind map of sorts made out of collage. Central to the map was "Mirai-Gaia", which Anne noted with a frown. Mirai-Gaia was circled and an arrow absorbed it into the left-hand node: StrataCorp. Anne's frown furrowed even more. /* TODO: Do an image of the note */ Hanging off Mirai-Gaia was a small subsidiary medical company, and a list of its products. One of them was circled: "pacemakers" and then an arrow down to a fragment of Matthew Cuthbert's memorial notice. An angry red arrow from StrataCorp reached over and crossed out the medical company and every product. Anne's heart froze with a dark suggestion. After a quick web search she unfortunately confirmed it. She balled the paper back up and looked for her mysterious note-dropper. There was none, but she had her suspicions. <<link "Anne returned to her studies, her shoulders heavier than ever." chapter8-9>><</link>>"Well, what do you make of this?" Diana asked. Anne studied the poster. It read: <div id="strataposter"><h1>Are __YOU__ the next thought leader?</h1> \ Unlock your potential in any one of our many primary research fields with an exclusive corporate sponsorship. Applicants can invest their potential in our Pipeline Innovator Schools™: <dl> <dt>Defined Pathways</dt><dd>No distractions or rootless wandering</dd> <dt>Aligned Mentorships</dt><dd>Learn directly from elite, certified Innovators</dd> <dt>Everything's Covered</dt><dd>Everything you might need including food, board and books [img[qrcode]]</dd> </dl>We don't just build industries, we build dreams. <div id="cta">Apply for the StrataCorp Avery Innovator Scholarship today.</div></div> Anne frowned. Gilbert joined the girls. "What do you think? It feels a bit off to me. Anne?" Anne glanced at Gilbert and then back at the poster. "Are you going for it, Gilbert Blythe?" He shrugged non-committally. "Strata sucks." Anne and Diana agreed vehemently. "But a paid ticket is a paid ticket." To this the girls were unsure. Diana joked, "I don't want to take their money... But I also want to take their money." A buzzer ahead heralded the hour. Anne's face brightened. <<link "\"I think I have an idea.\"" chapter8-10>><</link>>And thus began a long, cold December in the Assemblage. Anne had opened up a temporary truce with Gilbert. They had committed to an open rivalry at the Assemblage. One of them was destined to win the scholarship, that much was certain. They were intent on taking StrataCorp for every credit they could. When they would pass in the halls, neither would give the other a glimmer of recognition. The StrataCorp kids--unable to participate themselves in a rare boundary of decency--buzzed about the looming match-up in the forums and socials. But, alongside Anne and Gilbert's studies and commitment to the Assemblage, they had begun a new study. That of their true rival: StrataCorp. Their motivation was not of revenge, but understanding. They needed to bring the towering corpo down to their level, disassemble them and understand what made them tick. And once understood, perhaps something could be done with their influence. If the scholarship gave them a way in, then they had a chance. <<link "Rebellion's clock ticked slowly, but steadily." chapter8-11>><</link>>At long last, the results came out. * <<link "Anne won the scholarship." chapter8-12-anne>><</link>> * <<link "Gilbert won the scholarship." chapter8-12-gilbert>><</link>> * <<link "Both Anne and Gilbert won the scholarship." chapter8-12-both>><</link>><<set $chap8WhoWon to "anne">> \ Much to her delight and--if she were to be frank--surprise, Anne won the scholarship. The slings of misfortune she suffered in geometry weren't sufficient enough to stop her pipping Gilbert Blythe at the post. He was, of course, quietly satisfied with the result though put on a decent show of deflation. He offered Anne a handshake, "Anne, the best scholar won and I'm glad it was you." Anne took his hand, still a little surprised. Theoretical options had now become real. She could take the scholarship at face value, travel the world as a scholar and leave poor Marilla to look after Green Cables. A multitude of opportunities lay open for herself. Or she could take a long shot against StrataCorp for everyone else. <<link "Anne had to think about it." chapter8-12-anne-2>><</link>>That afternoon she wandered AvonLea Commons alone. Multitudes of possibilities bloomed before her. When she looked at one, many more grew alongside. She came across a boy stuck on a rose bush. He had gone to retrieve a frisbee but his grey jacket had become intertwined with the thorns. Anne sprang forth and freed him. She waited for a word of thanks, but just watched the StrataCorp logo on his jacket as he ran away. She looked to the ground in annoyance. At her feet was a plaque half-buried in the dirt. It was for the unassuming rose bush. It read: "Donated by Mr M Cuthbert." <<link "[Next Chapter...]" chapter9-1>><</link>><<set $chap8WhoWon to "gilbert">> \ Anne spent her time in quiet duty, always with one eye on the march of the clock. Then it came to the day of the scholarship announcement. She purposefully did not check her devices. She needed to be at the Assemblage otherwise it might not be real. One can write anything on the Internet these days. Anne and Diana walked together through AvonLea Commons to the Assemblage. Diana was happy and supportive; her family's wealth meant that she did not have to apply for the scholarship. This had given her sufficient cover to spend evenings probing the networks of StrataCorp while Anne and Gilbert made a show of studying. Regardless of the next steps, she would be comfortable in life. So Diana was there to make sure Anne was comfortable in hers. "Diana, I know we have other designs, but I feel awful sick about this scholarship. I don't have a hope of getting it, and that ruins our plans overt and covert. Can you go in and find out the news? I implore you in the name of our old, dear friendship to do it as quickly as possible," Anne asked. Diana held Anne's hand to promise but there was no need. Two of Gilbert's friends walked out of the building pumping their fists, grunting "Gilbert! Gilbert!" Anne felt one sickening pang of defeat and disappointment, despite all their preparations. She had failed and Gilbert had won. It didn't matter except in all the ways that it did. Diana clasped Anne's hand tight. "Oh dearest Anne, don't be too hard on yourself. <<link "Let's find Gil and work out the next steps." chapter8-12-gilbert-2>><</link>>"Anne allowed herself to be dragged through the halls of Assemblage. She averted her eyes from any bulletin board lest they stab her again. They could not find Gilbert. That is, until they came to the stewards' office. Gilbert closed the door behind him and bumped into the girls. "Oh, hi," he said. "Hi," said Diana. Anne said nothing. "Congratulations, Anne," Gilbert said. Anne's face contorted in displeasure. If he was to take this opportunity to rub it-- "I told the stewards that they were wrong. In the gradings I was a few points ahead of Anne. I reminded them of the civics project I didn't hand in." Diana shook her head. "But... I remember handing it in with you..." Gilbert grinned. "You must have been mistaken, DB. Congratulations, Anne." Anne stood, slack-jawed. A million possibilities and thoughts and--dare she admit it--emotions swirled in her head like a deep dive into a fractal. Anne stuttered out, "I--I..." Gilbert held up his hand. "I get it, no time for celebrating. Let's get to work." <<link "[Next Chapter...]" chapter9-1>><</link>><<set $chap8WhoWon to "both">> \ The day had finally come. Anne had an eye on the calendar for such a long time. The duty and study of it all had kept a curious rhythm for her, and it was odd to come to the end of it. Marilla had insisted on walking her to the Assemblage for the reveal, ostensibly to support Anne at her greatest moment but also--truth be told--to prove to AvonLea that she was still capable and not beset by impotent grief. "Oh Marilla, I am so nervous. More nervous than I was for any of the exams themselves! I am the silliest girl there ever was..." A hint of Marilla's old dry smile appeared but then melted into an affectionate one. The two walked through the Assemblage to the stewards' office where the scholarship was to be decided. As per Marilla's custom, they were exactly on time. As per the Assemblage's, they were late. Gilbert arrived by himself and nodded. "Miss Cuthbert. Miss Shirley." Marilla rolled her eyes at the formality. "You may call me Marilla, everyone does and should. And I know you are acquainted well enough with Anne. You can call her that--or on occasions Cordelia, apparently." Anne's face flushed beet red and she hid behind Marilla. Marilla stood stiffly with a mischievious grin. Gilbert didn't know quite what to do except knock on the door. The next few minutes were a blur to Anne. One of the Assemblage's stewards invited them in to tell them the good news. Both Anne and Gilbert had won the scholarship! There was some business of accepting the award downtown, but Anne scarcely heard the details. She shook hands with Gilbert and the three walked out of the Assemblage together. Marilla could not be more proud, and promptly told Anne so. "Marilla, I am so happy yet so sad that our dearest Matthew couldn't be here for it." Marilla nodded and stated, "He would be even more proud than me, if that were possible. And I know he'd love to rub it in." They laughed and Gilbert broke off from them. "Congratulations, Anne. We'll talk soon." He nodded solemnly on the last words. Anne's smile faded as she knew what was to come. <<link "[Next Chapter...]" chapter9-1>><</link>><<set $chapterNum to 9>> \ <<set $chapterTitle to "The Glory and the Dream">> !! Chapter 0x09 - $chapterTitle An emergency meeting of the VR Story Club had been called, with begrudging honorary special guest Gilbert Blythe<<if $chap8WhoWon is "gilbert">>, even though if it was technically //because// of Gilbert that this meeting was possible at all.<<elseif $chap8WonWon is "both">>, even though if Gilbert's efforts were part of the reason that this meeting was at all possible.<<else>>.<</if>> The sponsorship letter had come through. The letter from StrataCorp was as expected -- a corporate logo, generic greeting, hollow congratulations, an invitation to HQ to "just underline some legal requirements", and a salutation from a department not a person -- all printed proudly on recycled bio-plastic paper as mentioned in the footer. Diana regarded it with disdain. "Do you think they used non-archival paper for a reason?" she asked. Ruby Gillis and Jane Andrews had been omitted from the invite list. Anne, Diana and Gilbert knew that it was actually a meeting of the finished-fourth "Bosom Friends" CTF team, but one particular member had grown sensitive about the name after the vexations of Josie Pye. But they didn't question Anne about it. Anne frowned at the letter. "What shall we do with this? We needed to understand Strata to pry their fingers off AvonLea. But we've been invited into the headquarters! This just brings us into the belly of the beast! I'm beginning to think this idea was a very silly one. Perhaps we can apologise and stay as far away from them as we can?" Gilbert tapped the sheet on the table. "This does feel like an opportunity, though." Diana turned her tablet to them. <<link "\"My dear friends, I think I have an idea.\"" chapter9-2>><</link>>Diana poured them both some tea. "While you two were battling it out for the top academic spot, I was doing some studying. StrataCorp has their fingers in too many pies in Prince Edward Island." "And there's too many Pyes in StrataCorp!" Gilbert joked. The girls disregarded him and continued. "It was a standard operating procedure of embrace, extend and extinguish. But while their corporate hunger spread them out like a weed, their base principles are that of structure and hierarchy." "Power," said Anne, nodding. "Exactly. But I compiled a news search over the last five years. It seems they are forever chasing trends but never understanding them. Especially in cybersecurity." "Like 'problem-focussed' cybersecurity? Where you just react to the last threat you have heard about?" asked Gilbert, having taken note of the seriousness of the girls' discussion. "Their latest security report -- the one they accidentally CC'd in the rest of the Assemblage, if you recall -- was focussed solely on laptops with high-speed data ports." Anne scoffed. "But people were fussing over that years ago!" "Indeed. Now , my dear friend, we can't sneak a laptop into their HQ. That'll be too obvious." Anne frowned. "What am I supposed to do? Remember passwords from sticky notes? Surely not, DB!" "No, Anne," said Diana, patting Anne on the arm. "We're going to dress you up as fine as any belle of the ball." Anne's computronic sleeves shimmered. "And that way, you'll be packing some serious horsepower straight into the core of their operations. Gil and I can back you up outside." Anne's eyes widened like dinner plates. "Oh Diana, my dearest friend! That is just breathtaking! <<link "Yes! Let's do it!" chapter9-3>><</link>>"The night of the meeting came. Anne had to pause in the corporate plaza outside of StrataCorp headquarters in Charlottetown. Her neck craned far upwards trying to trace the full height of the building. It was striated like a large stack of metal and glass pancakes, trying to look like the only organic structure in The `Lotte but failing to escape the repetition of structure and hierarchy. Anne felt cold and alone. She looked down over the beautiful dress Matthew had given her. She was perhaps overdressed for The `Lotte, but it was comforting. She swore she could smell the homestead of Green Cables, but it took a moment to notice the cherry trees in the plaza. Matthew's trees. Gently surrounding her and coaxing her onwards. A bored grey receptionist looked Anne over, not moving her sideways-slumped head, just her judgmental eyes. She pointed a stylus towards a set of elevators. Anne nodded politely. In the kaleidoscope of metal and glass, she saw Gilbert's drone outside blink a light, do a flip and head towards the elevator shaft on the outside of the building. <<link "Anne took the elevator alone." chapter9-4>><</link>>The doors closed and Anne began to ascend. They had deemed it necessary that Anne meet the CEO of Strata, which probably meant that he didn't have enough to do. As the elevator climbed, Anne thought he mustn't have enough to do given the pace and length of the elevator. "Lady Cordelia, can you hear me?" whispered Diana in Anne's ear. "Loud and clear. Gil, I can see your drone." "Good, that's your uplink. We can't risk blasting signal through Strata." "What's his name?" "Who?" asked Gilbert. "Your drone," Anne asked. There was a silence. Gilbert replied, "Um, her name is Dronehild. Like Brunhild, but a drone. I thought you might like that one." Anne smirked. Perhaps Gilbert wasn't wholly bad after all. /* TODO: Put in a reference to Mrs Lynde, based on the choices earlier. */ As the floors whisked by, the night lights of Prince Edward Island opened up before Anne. The craggy surface of tall buildings fell further below and she could see the warm greenness of AvonLea Commons. If she could trace the road past AvonLea Junction, past Mrs Rachel Lynde's knot of cameras, she could make out the thin root of a jetty stretching out into the bay. At the very end was the indistinct but familiar glow of Green Cables. Marilla would be there, alone in the dark with her knitting and her grief. Anne desperately wanted to tell Marilla of their plan, but of course Marilla would not approve. She might on principles--Marilla was nothing but firm on principles--but if a whisper even suggested Anne might face trouble, well, this would be a burden too great to bear. So Anne did not tell her. Anne would endeavour to be safe. This would not be what Marilla would call "one of Anne's scrapes and misfortunes" if Anne could help it. "All good, LC?" Anne mouthed a silent prayer over Marilla and AvonLea. <<link "\"All is good, DB. Here we go.\"" chapter9-5>><</link>>The doors opened at the penthouse suite to the office of StrataCorp CEO Cade Stratton. Front and center and two storeys high was a picture of the man himself: straight jeans, dark monotone gilet, hair spiked to the left like a crashing wave, pale skin glowing in the limelight of a conference whose audience was a hundred similarly-dressed men. Anne tugged at a braid but then pushed it behind her. The suite was a double-height level with full glass windows overlooking the shimmering Prince Edward Island. One of the windows projected a stock ticker. Anne stepped past a digital picture frame showing a slideshow of grotesque cartoon monkeys. She cleared her throat. From a couch the man himself stood up, shorter than one might have expected. "Oh, you must be the six o'clock. <<if $chap8WhoWon is "anne">>Funny, we expected a girl to win.<<elseif $chap8WhoWon is "gilbert">>Weird, I thought a guy won. Whatever.<<else>>We expected a guy. I guess they sent the girl. Whatever.<</if>> Sit down. Wanna drink?" Cade Stratton appeared to pay attention to something in his ear. "Oh ho, no drink for you. I don't wanna get.. Well, you know... Sit down, sit down. I imagine you're very excited to meet me." Diana's voice whispered to Anne, "He's got some sort of virtual assistant. AI. Lest he accidentally think for himself." Gilbert joked: "Don't use any weird vocabulary. You might bluescreen them both with a SolidGoldMagikarp." Anne nodded and sat down, stiff-backed and as far away from Cade Stratton as the furniture allowed. She could see Gil's drone DroneHild hovering outside a window beyond Cade. She could feel her puffed sleeves beginning to warm up as data from scans began to stream in. Cade returned with a glass and toasted her. "Well, congrats. You must be grateful to have a chance to get out of this dump of a city on our company's dime?" * <<link "[Anne answers him]" chapter9-6a>><</link>> * <<link "[Anne asks him about Matthew's pacemaker]" chapter9-6b>><</link>>"No, I am not. I love AvonLea and the Assemblage. It is a very difficult decision for me to make." The CEO laughed. "If you say so. You gotta visit somewhere like New York or Tokyo. Bro, the food in Tokyo is the best." He paused. "I mean, Anna, whatever your name is." Sitting quietly took considerable willpower from Anne. <<if $chap3AnneApologised>>While she might be able to get cross at Mrs Rachel Lynde and make amends, this CEO did not look like a man who trafficked in "amends".<<else>>While she might be able to get away with holding her ground against Mrs Rachel Lynde--who really had her heart in the right place if her foot might have been in her mouth--but this CEO-type would not be so humane.<</if>> <<if $chap4AnneStoic>>And if she can stand up to Josie Pye, she can withstand her boss.<<else>>She would not stoop to a Josie Pye level of being baited by him.<</if>> "I mean, PEI is just a hick town that happened to get a metropolis dropped on top of it. There's nothing here except scraps. You gotta know that." Anne's face grew redder and redder. "Anyway, you're welcome. I mean, it's just rounding error for us, but I guess it means something for you." <<link "Anne held her tongue in an increasingly difficult battle." chapter9-7>><</link>>Anne had remembered the secret message delivered to her on crumpled-up paper. She had pieced it all together. Anne cut through the pleasantries. "Did you kill Matthew Cuthbert?" "Who?" Cade said, tapping his earbud off. "Matthew Cuthbert. He had a Mirai-Gaia pacemaker. Now a StrataCorp one. It stopped working." Cade Stratton puzzled for a moment. "Oh is that what we got from the MG merger? Ha. I thought it was just some whatever dumbass IP." "It is ''not'' just IP. It was my beloved Matthew's heart. You took it away from us. It meant everything to us!" Cade held his hands up in defence. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, little lady. It means something to me too... Tax incentives when we wrote it all off as it went into the bit muncher. I mean, sorry, not sorry, if it's profitable it'd be immoral //not// to do it." <<link "Anne held her tongue in an increasingly difficult battle." chapter9-7>><</link>>Anne's face was beet red and tears began to well. Cade Stratton was temporarily distracted by his stock ticker and then looked back at his guest. "Oh ho ho, look at your face. Red as your goofy hair." He clicked his phone camera at her suddenly. "Priceless. Red as carrots! Here, no harm done, I'll send you a copy. Sell it as an NFT or something for your troubles." He swiftly ejected a card from a nearby slot and spun it towards Anne. "Now look," Cade said, "I know you're all emotional from this little meet and greet, but we've got some business to attend to." Anne broke from her tearful fury in a moment of confusion. <<link "\"What business?\"" chapter9-8>><</link>>Cade took a sip and rose to his feet, talking as he paced. "As I'm sure you're well aware, as per clause whatever in the terms and conditions of the scholarship, you need to cede your ownership of the Assemblage, AvonLea Commons and all that." Anne's eyes widened. "But I don't own those. No-one does." Cade tapped his ear again. "Yo Cassandra, you are a really good law explainer. Explain the ownership thing with the AvonLea sponsorship. Give it to me in no more than three bullet points." A disembodied female voice explained: "Thinking... Formulating a concise summary... Okay, let's delve into this. Fact 1, the weekly Assemblage newsletter indicated Anne Shirley as a senior mentor of the Assemblage. Fact 2, by the by-laws of the Assemblage this gives her a share in the co-operative. Fact 3, using the precedent of Varghese vs Manitoba MakerSpace and Shaboon vs Carmody Crafters, this gives her controlling stake in the co-operative that she can sell to us." Cade pointed into the air, "What she said!" Anne drummed her fingers on the table for a second. She stood up. "I won't do it." Cade smirked, "You gotta." He walked over to an almost empty study space and picked up an ornate smart card placed carefully in an elegant card display. He handed it to Anne. "Look, co-sign the smart contract and it'll all just happen. The scholarship will go through. You'll be happy. I'll be happy. Deal done, business concluded and I won't have to get the law or the press involved." Anne fiddled with her sleeves and looked as though she thought about it for a second. "I guess so, Mr Stratton." "Atta girl!" he cried. "Use the opportunity to become a better whatever-you-are. No need to thank me. Now scoot, I've got a few k on a game that's starting soon." Anne stood holding her cards and wiped a tear from her eyes. Cade looked at her, and asked rudely, "Yes?" She held out the NFT to him. "I can't accept this." "Sure you can! It's on me." "No, not yet. You need to sign the smart contract of transfer," said Anne, her voice low and meek. Cade blew a raspberry, snatched the card from her and plugged in into his wrist jack. "Beep bloop, signed. Now get your freckled face out of here." <<link "Anne nodded and returned to the elevator." chapter9-9>><</link>>As the elevator descended, Diana and Gilbert came back on comms. "Oh Anne, I'm so sorry. That must have been terrible for you," said Diana. Gilbert agreed. Anne sniffed and wiped her face with a handkerchief. "It's okay," she said with a fierceness that burned through the static. "Did we learn anything?" asked Gilbert. Diana mumbled, "Apart from that he is a very terrible human being? But we already knew that. Wikipedia already knows that." Anne took a breath and said, "A very terrible human being with very terrible security practices. I'm not sure if I managed it, but I might have something." Her compatriots were quiet and awed. "What?" "I didn't have a screen so I was typing blind. But I think I flipped and twisted the smart contracts. He left the NFT one open and the Assemblage one closed. I think I switched them. Gil, you might need to check it--you're so much better than I am at mathematics. I don't know what we've got, but I think we have an opening." Diana burst into laughing, "Oh Anne you beautiful, beautiful woman! I cannot wait to hug you and sort this whole mess out!" For the first time tonight Anne laughed and smiled. "We're not there yet. <<link "But it's a place to start from." chapter9-prehack>><</link>>"Later in the Assemblage, Gilbert whistled. <<if $chap8WhoWon is "anne">>"I gotta say, Anne, the better person won that scholarship. You set up a beautiful opportunity."<<elseif $chap8WhoWon is "gilbert">>"Anne, they got it wrong when they chose me for the scholarship. You are clearly the more brilliant hacker. You have set up a beautiful opportunity."<<else>>"I gotta say, Anne, out of the two of us, you clearly are the better scholar. You have set up a beautiful opportunity."<</if>> Gilbert passed a small repurposed handheld. "Given your judo-flip of the contracts, I've managed to disassemble and reconfigure the setup. I checked with Diana and it appears as though they were transferring ownership by washing their own assets in together with the Assemblage. It obfuscates the transfers through a series of //mixers//, but comes out to StrataCorp in the end." Anne frowned. "But what good is that?" Gilbert smiled. Anne tried to not be distracted by it. "I've orchestrated it so the mixers are swappable. If we can find a good combination, we might be able to change our fortunes." Diana hugged Anne. "We thought it was only proper if you did it. You enabled it after all!" Diana laughed and added, "If StrataCorp gets wind of this, they might expire the keys before we can do anything. So I'll go distract them, especially Josie Pye." Gilbert added, "I'll be here for support. Tech support. You've got this, Anne." Anne looked at the handheld. A tiny device for a huge decision. <<link "It was time to hack." chapter9-hack>><</link>><<nobr>><<script>> $(document).one(':passageend', function () { setup.p5promise.then( function () { new p5( setup.createMixerGame(), 'mixergame'); }); }); <</script>><</nobr>> <div id="mixerouter"><div id="mixergame"></div></div> <<link "(Gilbert's directions on how to use the program)">><<toggleclass "#gilbertHint" "hidden">><</link>> <div id="gilbertHint" class="hidden"><blockquote>Strata are trying to steal the Assemblage through asset mixers, but we can rearrange the mixers to affect the outcome! Grab a mixer and move it to a new location in the chain. The program will compute the result: good, bad or otherwise. When you're ready, <b>Confirm</b> the order. Good luck, although I doubt you'll need it!</blockquote> </div> <<link "[Skip the puzzle...]" chapter10-1>><</link>>!! Chapter 0x0A - The Bend in the Road Anne made the fateful decision: * <<link "Let StrataCorp own the Assemblage" chapter10-2>><</link>> * <<link "The Assemblage is split up with pieces given to StrataCorp and the people of AvonLea." chapter10-3>><</link>> * <<link "StrataCorp is split instead, with pieces given to the Assemblage and the people of AvonLea." chapter10-4>><</link>> * <<link "StrataCorp is given to Anne and the Assemblage." chapter10-5>><</link>>!! Chapter 0x0A - The Bend in the Road It was early morning in Green Cables. Normally Marilla would be up by now preparing for the day, but of late she no longer sustained the diligence she was well-known for. A dust had settled on Green Cables that would never wipe clean. Anne crept downstairs, careful not to let her bag strike anything loudly. She drew an envelope from her jacket, left it on the table and disappeared out the door. The letter read: "Dearest Marilla, It pains me ever so much to write these words, especially after how kind you and Matthew were to me. Even though I was not the boy you had expected, you adopted me all the same. I love you and am indebted to you forever. I have taken the scholarship and not at all happily. I hope to find a job tutoring creators in a less contested space. Even in saying so, I am deeply sad that the Assemblage has transferred over to corporate hands and they might regard it as no longer contested. I hope to build up the skills and strength to return and give the place back to AvonLea. Or at least make a new one. Marilla, I will send you a portion of my wages after taking what meagre means I need to sustain me. I am sorry for the troubles I brought to Green Cables, but I will try to repair that someday. Say goodbye to the robots for me, and care for them as you cared for me. Especially <<if $salvaged is "seed">>the seed sorter (Simone), she will need new actuators in time.<<elseif $salvaged is "soil">>the soil cultivator Madame Penelope. The repairs shouldn't have voided her warranty, assuming the corpos honor it.<<else>>the power regulator as it is likely to take down the rest of the farm if it fails. I tried to stop that.<</if>> Tell Diana my story. She can continue the VR Story Club without me, if she wants. She will forever be my dearest friend. Again, I am orphaned, despite your most strident efforts to make me a better child. I will try again, and hopefully return a better woman. Sincerely, Anne Shirley (aka Cordelia Montmorency, if I can ever be thought of positively again)" <<link "[The End]" the-end>><</link>>!! Chapter 0x0A - The Bend in the Road It was a quiet night in the homestead at Green Cables. Marilla had taken the bottom floor, her knitting needles clicking a ceaseless tide of anger, woe and disappointment. Following the partial dismantling of AvonLea, StrataCorp took the Assemblage as their spoils and banished Anne from it. She was obliged to work from home and Marilla consigned her to her room upstairs. Anne sat in front of Matthew's clock, all the pieces separated and distributed across the table. She still had her place in the world, but it was a colder one. In time, Marilla would come around to the chore of raising Anne, as they had come around to the chores of Green Cables after Matthew's passing. Diana and Gilbert remained in contact, but at a distance. Structures may falter, but duty remains. Anne had a duty to continue to love and care for those who meant most to her. And, despite it all, it was a duty she was happy to have. <<link "[The End]" the-end>><</link>>!! Chapter 0x0A - The Bend in the Road It was a peculiar type of Spring for Prince Edward Island. StrataCorp had been financially dismantled and distributed across the region. Many small operations previously under its thumb and used for StrataCorp's financial leverage had found themselves now imbued with the corporation's wealth and power. And so a change grew rhizomically through the area: some buildings toppled, others were built, life got richer and weirder in a myriad accidental ways. The Assemblage--whom many believed were responsible for this change--was also split and shared, but this was no new phenomenon for it. The cooperative twisted and turned with new collaborators gained and old ones sidelined. Hundreds of ex-corpo kids found themselves with nothing to do while at the same time, community projects found themselves with an overabundance to do. The VR Story Club divested its newfound riches into community projects across AvonLea. Today, Anne was helping plant Matthew's roses in a new community garden. She smiled as she watched Josie Pye continue to prick herself whilst awkwardly levering a bush into the ground. It was a blessed, curious life. Every step promised a new bend in the road. And to Anne, that was quite okay. <<link "[The End]" the-end>><</link>>!! Chapter 0x0A - The Bend in the Road A news report came in hot, like it always did: <blockquote>The stock markets are in upheaval today after a surprising philanthropic move by StrataCorp CEO Cade Stratton. Blockchain pundits noted the firebrand CEO had transferred his entire asset portfolio to the lesser-known workers cooperative //the Assemblage// in Prince Edward Island. Stratton has called for a blockchain transaction reversal and rejected all suggestions of philanthropy. When told the move was secured by mathematical security proofs, Stratton's representatives replied, "Mathematics is all very well, but StrataCorp considers ownership a matter for higher authorities." This legal challenge is likely to be precarious for the company given their long public support for "the code is law" philosophies. A spokeswoman for the Assemblage declined to comment on the transfer, but announced new practical classes in //Corporate Disassembly and Refactoring//. </blockquote> Anne smiled and turned off her vid feed. She had returned from the AvonLea graveyard where she had put fresh flowers on Matthew's grave and watered his Scotch rosebush. She took the peace and calm of that little place on her walk home along AvonLea Commons. It was past sunset and the commons lay before her in a dreamlike afterlight. There was a freshness in the air as of a wind that had blown over honey-sweet fields of clover. Glass building facades twinkled as the lights of PEI turned on for the night. For once, the spotlights on StrataCorp's headquarters were turned off and the island got to shine for itself. The beauty of it all thrilled Anne's heart, and she gratefully opened the gates of her soul to it. "Dear old world," she murmured, "you are very lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you." <<link "Anne continued her walk home." chapter10-5-2>><</link>>Halfway along the jetty to Green Cables a tall lad came whistling out of a gate having completed a delivery. It was Gilbert, and the whistle died on his lips as he recognized Anne. He nodded courteously, but would have passed on in silence, if Anne had not stopped and held out her hand. "Gilbert," she said, with scarlet cheeks. "I want to thank you for <<if $chap8WhoWon is "gilbert">>giving up the scholarship for me.<<elseif $chap7PhysicallySafe is true>>saving me on the water, however rudely.<<else>>rescuing me from my VR boat.<</if>> It was very good of you--and I want you to know that I appreciate it." Gilbert took the offered hand eagerly. "I was pleased to be able to do you some small service. Are we going to be friends after this?" Anne laughed and tried unsuccessfully to withdraw her hand. "I forgave you that day on the dock of Green Cables, although I didn't know it. What a stubborn little goose I was. I've been--I may as well make a complete confession--I've been sorry ever since." "We are going to be the best of friends," said Gilbert, jubilantly. "We were born to be good friends, Anne. You've thwarted destiny enough. I know you'll need all the help you can get in this new rich era for Assemblage. Come, I'll walk you home." Marilla looked curious at Anne when the latter entered the kitchen. "Who was that came up the lane with you, Anne?" "Gilbert Blythe," answered Anne, vexed to find herself blushing. "We work together at the Assemblage." "I didn't think you and Gilbert Blythe were such good friends that you'd stand for half an hour at the gate talking to him. Mrs Rachel has already reported it in the forums," said Marilla with a dry smile. "We haven't been--we've been good enemies. Or frenemies. But we decided that it would be much more efficient to be good friends in the future." Anne sat long at her window that night companioned by a glad content. The wind purred softly in the cherry boughs, and the mint breaths from the warehouse came up to her. Anne's world had settled in the most peculiar way. When not long ago the world was indistinct and full of paths, now one single path bloomed ahead of her. The joy of sincere work, collaborative imagination and worthy aspiration were to be hers. There was ample room for fancy and creativity. And there was always the bend in the road to look forward to. "//God's in his heaven, all's right with the world,//" whispered Anne softly. <<link "[The End]" the-end>><</link>><<nobr>> <<set $seenCarrotPatch to false>> <<set $seenSeedFilter to false>> <<set $seenSoilCultivator to false>> <<set $seenPowerRegulator to false>> <</nobr>> Anne surveyed the equipment. It appeared to be a neat but tired little community of machines and bots. She squeaked out a "hello!" as a fertilizer sprayer whizzed towards her but deftly zipped over her head. A few of the machines were having a time of it. <<include salvageIntroChoices>>Anne found four machines to inspect: * <<if $seenCarrotPatch>>A tragically unfixable bespoke carrot patch<<else>><<link "Bespoke carrot patch" carrotPatch>><</link>><</if>> * <<link "A rattling Seed filter" seedFilter>><</link>> <<if $seenSeedFilter>>(inspected)<</if>> * <<link "A creaky Soil cultivator" soilCultivator>><</link>> <<if $seenSoilCultivator>>(inspected)<</if>> * <<link "An erratic Power regulator" powerRegulator>><</link>> <<if $seenPowerRegulator>>(inspected)<</if>> <<if $seenCarrotPatch and $seenSeedFilter and $seenSoilCultivator and $seenPowerRegulator>>It was hard but <<link "Anne made a decision of which machine to fix." salvageChoose>><</link>><</if>><<set $seenCarrotPatch to true>> Tucked into a corner was a peculiar ovoid machine. Anne pressed a button and the caps on the top of the machine opened up, revealing a little patch of soil with an array of carrots sticking out like awkward soldiers. The machine looked like an all-in-one carrot cultivating terrarium with automated watering and climate control. There were a lot of issues -- Anne tugged at her braid as she assessed it. The bold little orange carrots seemed to look up to her, waiting for an answer. She couldn't, just couldn't. Not with her ears hearing the echoes of taunts of "Carrots!" from her work camp. She closed the lid and stepped away. <<include salvageIntroChoices>><<set $seenSeedFilter to true>> Anne dropped to her knees to inspect the curious boxy machine in front of her. It was a L-shape, lying down, with a hopper at one end and a rainbow of chutes at the other. The sloped top opened easily and Anne could see the conveyer belt inside. Seeds would collect, fall into a straight line past a sensor, and then be distributed into the different chutes at the end. Anne's multitool confirmed the sensor worked fine, but the CPU and distributor motor had a falling out -- neither worked nor could be roused, and it was not apparent whether one was responsible for the failings of the other. Anne closed the lid and gave the machine a caring pat. <<include salvageIntroChoices>><<set $seenSoilCultivator to true>> At the end of a fogponic row sat a small, tiered bench. The main section was a container for soil. A robotic arm had its claw deep into the soil, ready to churn and aerate the soil. Off to the side some wayward soil had collected in a pit where an opportunistic seed had taken root and established a tiny, bold garden in amongst the machinery. Anne smiled. The claw moved readily with a push, but seemed to lack its own initiative. Anne traced the wires back to a burnt-out AI module. When she bypassed the module to her emulator, the arm came to life but flailed around wildly. Anne paused execution and noticed a cracked optical sensor. Anne frowned, //"Oh dear, it is fuzzy of mind and sight!"// <<include salvageIntroChoices>><<set $seenPowerRegulator to true>> Around the side of the greenhouse stood a tall pillar, striated horizontally like a stack of plates. Matthew had disconnected it from the rest of the farm. It hummed with impotent power, drawing in energy from a solar array before overheating and discharging itself for protection. Anne approached it carefully. The way it kept cycling meant that the regulator's CPU must be fine, Anne reasoned. The fan's motor was sad -- it had no more to give to the greater machine. Anne's initial diagnostics also revealed an errant weather-sensor. She popped it out. Clearly this one was meant for the southern hemisphere and was confused by the climate of Prince Edward Island. <<include salvageIntroChoices>>Anne's mind vibrated with possibilities for these machines, although one solid truth remained: there were only enough parts for one of them. This was quite a heavy decision to leave on the shoulders of one girl. But she knew deep in her heart that her arrival at Green Cables was a surprise, an opportunity, and one she might not get another chance at. She had to choose. * <<link "Fix the seed filter." salvageFixSeed>><</link>> * <<link "Fix the soil cultivator." salvageFixSoil>><</link>> * <<link "Fix the power regulator." salvageFixPower>><</link>><<set $salvaged to "seed">> \ Anne went to work quickly; easy work given the accessible flap. She piggy-back soldered the power regulator's CPU over the old one, and with some questionable use of a screwdriver as a wedge, she replaced the motor for the seed distributor. She closed the flap and clicked the power on. The machine warmed up and began to shake and sort the seeds. At the outward end, a bright magnolia seed rolled down the chute, ready to find its feet somewhere. <<link "Anne smiled." chapter2-11>><</link>><<set $salvaged to "soil">> \ Taking care to not disturb the rogue mini-garden, Anne repaired the arm's sight and brain. She hummed as the cultivator warmed up and came to life. The arm stopped for a moment, sensing Anne, then returned to the container and plunged its claw into the soil. It kneaded and tilled the soil happily, taking a moment to carefully pick out a knot of fungus and drop it into a bin. <<link "Anne smiled." chapter2-11>><</link>><<set $salvaged to "power">> \ The huge power regulator loomed over Anne, but she did not falter. With practiced care she turned it off, grounded it and herself, and swiftly replaced both the fan motor and climate sensor. She stood back as she turned it back on. It snapped defiantly and a spark hissed out the side. The fan spun up gracefully and the regulator found its rhythm, A cloud drifted away from the sun and the solar panels shimmered. Without argument, the regulator distributed its power to the farm, finding itself to be a productive contributor once again. <<link "Anne smiled." chapter2-11>><</link>>data:image/png;base64,[encoded data, 535352 characters]data:image/gif;base64,[encoded data, 113512 characters]data:image/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAKUAAAClAQMAAAAH5a+ZAAAABlBMVEXw+P/19fUBpx/rAAAAAXRSTlMAQObYZgAAARhJREFUeNrtVjsOgzAMNWXImCPkJnAxJCLlYuUmOULGDBHus1G3qktrS5XqAQJCeTLv4xD960crMvNJlDrFgiVnotvLDz9/K2jYfomlMre5Xo+WaIX7QnulhebKpwdaHBQOLk5otCW+Rw805W0QBFIceBNNoi38TgdNXrUloOWv7fuut74yVHICMhyNrFVCU1N35yQrW7SR0BsEsradYQNj3vbaJ2Aob91ak0BDTu41yAVdWvsN2uABdyOa7VWSIX7cA1KZ2Zo38fQBoD61LZnzJtur3yRItEvzLBGLiyaFPJec1JHqoEnMAISWrux702maEytva/NAG0mPC/anoOdJ4Y4/GbxmN8JSAsVldjPrfHOa3f/6qXoAtYnK81gs/t4AAAAASUVORK5CYII=data:image/png;base64,[encoded data, 615448 characters]