[b]Ta'if, Ethiopian Hejaz[/b]

[i]The organic structure of the brain is best described using the likewise organic nature of society itself. 
Specialized, yet tentative, the neural cell is an amazing achievement of biology in its own right, but
its accomplishments mean nothing if not deposited within the context of the cerebral structure as a whole.
Likewise is man, an amazing feat, but without purpose or form outside of his society. This is to say, the 
society of life as a whole, not just those habitats of our own making that we call "Artificial" because we
falsely believe ourselves to exist outside of nature. All of our decisions, our thoughts and attitudes, and
those practices or assumptions we hold sacred to ourselves, are effects of the outer world. As a neuron
flashes only when the chemical bed in which it sits compels it to do so, we too only act in in response to
outside forces who compel us in the direction that we call "self interest." Truly, the only doubtless sign of
self awareness is when a being acts consciously against its own interests. This is something
which no single cell can do.[/i]

Dr. Sisi looked up from his notebook and rubbed his eyes. Writing in the darkness of the artificial cavern made them sore. He sat on a rocky ledge, on a canvas chair with a small wooden folding table for a desk. The rest of the cave stretched in front of him. The darkness obscured its size, with the only light pouring from the speckle of lanterns that covered the cave floor like starlight. He knew the dimensions in his head - roughly seven kilometers wide and long, in the rounded shape of a loaf of bread. Its purpose was a complete mystery. Sisi suspected it was little more than whimsy on the part of Ras Hassan for ordering it. A way to occupy their prisoners. The enigma of the thing amused Sisi. Every since their peculiar alliance began in the jungles of the Congo six years earlier, Hassan's mind had been a source of fascination for him. The Ras was moving pieces while giving the appearance of political disinterest. Even with his suspicions, Sisi couldn't be sure what sort of project this growing underground necropolis was. 

He turned back to his writing.

[i]It may be the proscription of future science to discover what methodology is necessary to fuse severed 
nerve tissue so that they may resume carrying signals. It is a discovery with frightening potential. One could 
see the future scientist promising near-immortality to minds of merit, so long as a replacement body can 
be found. Of course, such a thing may require the sacrifice of another life, but arguments could be made 
for the debraining of the mentally ill, the criminally violent, or the uselessly dependent, so that a worthy
mind may gain more years in a new body. This is conjecture, naturally. One has to account for the issue
of organically occurring dementia, which would render a mind doomed regardless of body. Having yet to find a 
method for such and experiment to occur, we also have to consider the possibility that some form of traumatic 
mental anguish could plague the cerebrum of a person who survives such an extraction. Double would be the 
concern in such a case where the new body is of another sex.[/i]

That was a thought. How strange it would be, to fall asleep a man and wake up a women. How would the mind cope?

In the corner of his eye, he saw the elevator begin its descent. At several hundred feet above the cavern floor, it moved like a blinking planet, descending slowly against absolute darkness. Sisi frowned. Another agent of his Ethiopian employers, come to organize the frantic shut-down of this place now that it was clear Spain would take the Red Sea. They were moving prisoners and equipment out, but it was not possible for them to complete the task. He was curious about what they planned to do, and annoyed that the war was cutting into his work. He would have to return to his old base of operations in the Congo

He took a deep breath, and brushed the dust off of his six-thousand franc, blue-black suit. Sometimes, he wondered if it was worth it to wear his best clothes in this hellish environment. The heat of the cave caused him to sweat, and rock-dust was unavoidable in an environment where hundreds of prisoners chipped away at the stone that surrounded them. His experiments, and his poking and prodding inside of their skulls, has caused many to lose some motor control. They created more of a mess than could be managed. It was a nuisance, but one he had to accept. To dress out of rank, however, would be intolerable.

His leg spasmed. Old bones. He stood up and stretched, feeling a surge of energy tingle through his muscles. For a brief moment, he went light headed. Had he been sitting down that long? It was easy to forget time when he was preoccupied with his thoughts. He was certain that what he was discovering here would make a name for him, more so than his drug trials ever did. There were things that got in the way. Things that had thrown a wall between him and his goals. Aside from the Spanish, the mysterious electrical language of the brain still alluded him. And there was no way he could find to recreate broken nervous tissue. 

It was a problem that would have to wait for another time. Perhaps, it saddened him to consider, it was a problem for another generation entirely.

He grabbed his cane, propped up against the makeshift desk, and grasped its golden tip firmly in his hands. He could feel its cold polish through his sheer white gloves, and its familiarity comforted him. 

Below his ledge, he could see the world Hassan had lent him. Hundreds of bodies toiling in the dark, guided by lantern-light and dozens of overseers armed with shotguns and pistols. Where Hassan had found these watching devils for his hell Sisi could not tell. Some seemed to be Arab, but most were African. He must of payed them well. Sisi was certain that the Emperor had no concept of this place or its existence. How peculiar, for Hassan to be hiding so much from his sovereign.

Sisi heard the subtle roar of the open-top staff car that delivered people from the elevator. He didn't look. Better their officer find him aloof and disinterested, so that they understood early how this conversation was going to play out. 

"Dr. Sisi" he heard a familar voice. Here, now? He turned around and found that he was right.

Ras Hassan was a thick figure - one could say fat, if they were being honest. He was a colossal figure in African politics, and his reputation was made all that more imposing by the way he carried himself. Confident. Absolutely sure of his own righteousness. His nut-brown complexion and pointed Arab features made him stand out amongst the other Africans, like a figure pulled from some other place to lead them. 

"Ras Hassan." Sisi smiled coyly. He gave the ground two quick taps with his cane before tossing into his left hand. "I am to understand this is my final eviction notice?"

Hassan smiled. He was a cold man who knew how to seem warm. "We have to evacuate Hejaz entirely. The Arabs have already retaken Medina. They know we can't defend this place. I am certain that Hejaz will be independent within a month."

"Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's" Sisi mouthed. He looked over the hellscape, the vague orange glow of to few lanterns coloring their perch. "I learned more here than I ever could in the Congo."

"We are moving some of these prisoners." Hassan assured. "The good ones. Your assistants are helping my own. We can't take them all, but we can save enough for your work to continue."

"What are you doing with the rest, may I ask?" Sisi inquired.

Hassan took a deep breath and looked out across the cavern of his making. He looked regretful. To Sisi, that seemed a surprise. "We talked about blowing the roof. That would create more questions, lead our enemies to investigate what they shouldn't be investigating. No. This place is too remote. We are going to seal the top hatch with rock. It will be years before somebody chances to discover it."

"Mmmm." Sisi hummed. He understood the subtext. "Seal it, with the remaining prisoners inside."

"Yes." Hassan answered bluntly. "We can't do anything else with them. Our options limit our mercy." 

There was a brief moment of silence, where they both stared out across the darkness. It could be mesmerizing - certainly a sight that few people could ever claim to have seen. It could have been new wonder of the world, if the unrestrained flow of world politics hadn't chose to touch them in the way that it had. He wondered if Hassan would ever attempt the same thing again? Surely that would be impossible. Whatever his project had been, it ended here. Sisi had been one of the few men fortuitous enough to see it in comfort before it's abandonment.

"I will withdraw tomorrow." Sisi assured.

"I know." Hassan agreed. "I came here to make sure of entire national departure from this land."

Sisi nodded. 

"And to thank you." Hassan smiled again. "For what services you have given our country. I have your assurances that your other experiments have worked?"

Sisi smiled. It was strange, to think of what they had done. Treason. There was no doubts there. Sisi wondered if he had somehow been tricked into being Hassan's own loyal henchman.

"You will not have to worry about it." he said. "What you have purchased through your patronage has been payed back already."

Hassan clapped Sisi on the shoulder. "You and I are friends." he said. "I have to go and begin the evacuation. We will have your old lab prepared for you." They shook hands, equal to equal, and Sisi watched as Hassan climbed back into his car. What would happen to that man? Sisi was uncertain about this conflict. War was good for business in many ways, but he had enjoyed a steady patronage under the Ethiopian government. Would the Spaniards give him the same opportunities? Doubtful. He would be able to count himself lucky if they allowed him to serve them food in a cafeteria. His position was made worse by his service to those that the Spanish so inappropriately called 'Socialist'. He would have to allow Hassan and his Ethiopia to hold a monopoly on his current work, as flimsy as that chance was. Of course, he had already done things that would soon earn him the internal gratitude of the Ras.

Sisi turned back to his desk and started writing.

[i]The mind is surprisingly malleable. The right combination of conditioning, suggestion, and chemical preparation, can
train even an intelligent man to commit acts that would typically be against their will. Conditioning is the more 
powerful component in this preparation. We know and completely accept the ways in which we condition animals,
or small children so that they will follow rules of etiquette they do not necessarily understand. We don't see the
same forces in adulthood as being a form of conditioning, as pride, and even arrogance, causes us to assume our
own supreme intelligence. We are animals, in most senses, acting entirely within our own decided drives, for reasons
we gauge as self-interest. But what is self-interest? If man were driven by a well-informed self-interest, would not all 
but the especially privileged be rabid socialists? Surely, it is all too easy to sell a man his own poison if the salesman
is clever and understands the tactics in which one man can control another. Kings and priests have known this since
prehistory. What they did not have, however, is something we have. Chemical drugs, which can bury conditioning in
the subconscious, so that the planted compulsions and lies remain hidden until they are necessary. And when the time
comes, they can be unmasked without prior warning. This will be the way of spies and assassins in the coming centuries[/i]

[b]Port Said, Suez Canal[/b]

Her vision returned quicker than her hearing. Her ears rang persistently as she stood up and gained her bearings. Fire burned bright hot all around her, exploding in seemingly random blasts. She saw bodies all around her, running and fighting and choking and dying. Instinctively, she pulled out her service weapon - a Changu .52, the sort sold to the Walinzi by the Chinese government. She had been more comfortable with her old German Walther, but the government had insisted.

With her ears still whining, she leveled her gun on a white man. He was covered in soot - face, clothes, and weapon - and he was locked in hateful melee with an African soldier wearing a turban. One shot turned the white man's shoulder into a bloody mangle. He fell down, his scream sending a piercing pain through Leyla's damaged ears, until the turbaned African leaned down, stole the mans knife, and slit his throat with it. As her hearing stabilized, the first thing she completely perceived were the Spaniard's bloody dying gurgles.

[i]Smack[/i]

At first she thought she had been punched in the side. She doubled over, her innards inflamed, and picked up the shattered cement rock that had been sent jabbing into her by the Spanish Navy's pounding barrage into the nearby Ethiopian defenses. Their counter attack had came quicker than she suspected.

She saw a man - an ash-smudged Spaniard - pull his weapon. She reacted quickly, but he shot first, and she felt the bullet whiz past her neck. Her shot did not miss. She hit him in the pelvis, and watched as his blackened uniform began to soak red. That was one man, and the war was on top of her. She started to stand up, but her side rebelled. It felt like her liver had been twisted and drained by hand, leaving a burning pit near her belly. On the ground, she could only see the war as a helpless victim of it.

Spasms of gunfire ripped through the air in all directions, so much that she could hardly tell where any sound was coming from anymore. There were screams and cries, and shouts of violent anger, hidden behind the swallowing sound of constant Spanish naval barrage. It looked like the Ethiopians were losing. She realized that, even if she didn't die, she would most likely be taken prisoner. When they discovered her sex... capture was as horrifying as death.

A eruption of energy came from her left. Two Walinzi agents emptied their revolvers as they advanced into the fight, followed by a small number of Ethiopian soldiers. A counterattack for the counterattack. She wanted to harness that energy for her own, to use the surge of adrenaline to bring herself back up, but it did not help. Instead, she attempted to add her own scream to the cacophony, and it reminded her of how much pain she was in.

A shell hit amongst the ruined buildings, and she heard its crumbling collapse. She held tightly to her weapon, watching the battle with a desperation kept in check by her struggle to focus on the fast-pace of what was happening. She glanced at the Aksum, catching the flicker of a distant firefight. The battle had poured onto the ship. What were they going to do?

She realized that Elias had disappeared. She felt a her chest slump. If her partner had died, that would hurt worse than any wound she had suffered in battle. They had served next to each other since Armenia. He was the closest friend she had. 

"I am going to help you." she heard. She felt herself hoisted into the air and put on her feet. Her side stung horribly, but she maintained her balance. She swung around and found her savior to be a giant.