"So we grew together,/Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,/But yet an union in partition."

 We were in a car.
 

 More I cannot say.  We had gone out of First Ave and
headed for the ramp across the street from Blues Alley, walked
up two flights of stairs, and ended up inside a car with a
charcoal gray interior.  We were on the passenger side.  Across
the stick shift, I could see another girl, wearing a black top
and long black jeans.  I didn't know if anyone else was in the
car besides her and my transporter.
 

 That was ten minutes ago, and we were driving
somewhere.  I wondered where.
 

* * *
 

Sarah Kensington
Lobby of the Humphrey Institute
West Bank, University of Minnesota
 
 

 Scott told me once that he liked to come here to
think.
 

 It was quiet, and a calm place to study--and indeed,
there was a lot of space to stretch out and just relax, and
wonder about what the future held.
 

 A nice place.
 

 A nice place.
 

 Oh, God, oh my God, why?  Why?!?  Why did he
convince himself he was holding me back?  Why did he leave me?
 

 I was sobbing.  How could he ever think that I
didn't need him?  That his existence held me back?  Didn't he
remember that night back in June?

 Didn't he remember?
 

 I made a wish, then and there.
 

 I wished that, whatever happened, whatever the
future would bring, that Scott would be safe.  That he would be
okay.
 

 I just wished I knew.
 

 I sat in the Humphrey Institute and cried until I
was cried out.  Then I headed back home.
 

 I had some calls to make.
 

* * *
 

Claire Danes
Beverly Hills, California
 

 The phone rang, and a chill ran down my spine.
 

 I knew something was wrong.
 

 I walked slowly over, and as if in a dream, picked
up the phone.
 

 "Hello," I said.
 

 "He's gone, Claire," she said.
 

 And I knew it was going to be a hard, hard night.
 

* * *
 

Anonymous
LAX
Los Angeles, California
 

 I looked at the dossier.  D.X. Machina.  Everything
known about him.  Where he came from, how he ended up in the
Cadre, his known acts since leaving us.
 

 I had been ordered to find him.  And to bring him
back to Los Angeles.  By any means necessary.
 

 Which is why I was waiting for a non-stop flight to
Chicago O'Hare International Airport.  He had ties to the
Chicago area.  I would go there first.
 

* * *
 

Scott Chelgren
Somewhere in Suburban Minneapolis/St. Paul
 

 The car pulled into a driveway, and I had to make a
decision.
 

 It was a relatively easy one, based on my
unwillingness to trek across a car, and the spirit of "que sera
sera" which governed my actions.

 I would go with the girl that brung me.
 

 I climbed onto the birks and held on as the car door
opened.
 

 It appeared we were going home.
 

* * *
 

 We made it inside the door, and I leapt to safety.
Not that I had anything against the girl's feet--they were quite
nice--but they weren't the safest place for me to be at that
moment.
 

 I looked around, and tried to get my bearings.  I
was in four-foot-high powder blue shag carpet, which appeared to
go on forever.  It was apparently the living room--I thought I
could hear a television on somewhere.
 

 I increased my height to three inches--tall enough
to move, but still small enough to blend in somewhat--and
started inwards.
 

 I saw my hostess turning down the hall, and I
decided to follow her.  It seemed like a plan, anyhow.  Keeping
along the baseboard, I walked until I reached the first room on
my right.  I was just about to turn into the room when a huge
foot stomped down in front of me.  It belonged to a five or six
year old girl, who was apparently heading out to the living
room.  I groaned inwardly.  My biggest fear was always that Susi
would find me, and try to make me into one of her dolls.  Sarah
used to say--
 

 Shut up, brain.
 

 I continued down the hall.
 

* * *
 

D.X. Machina
Somewhere in New Mexico
 

 It was a crisp fall evening, and I was busy doing
not much of anything.  It was easy enough to do nothing here in
the desert, and I came here as often as time permitted.
 

 I was debating whether or not I should pull another
crystal out and distribute it.  I had a pretty good success rate
with those things--people always felt like they were in control
with 'em, even though really, all the power they were using came
from within themselves.  Still, they were pretty enough, and
with that little bogus history I gave out with 'em, they sure
convinced people they were the real thing.
 

 I could either pull the crystal out, or I could
maybe enroll at a college somewhere, and quietly distribute some
more GTS.
 

 It's what I did.  Get GTS out to those who needed
it.  A far more satisfying career than selling computers.  A
tremendous amount more satisfying than quashing even the mention
of GTS.

 
 I don't know why I ever signed on with the Cadre.
Actually, yeah I do--I was unemployed, accidentally stumbled on
the secret of GTS, and used it against the Athena League without
even realizing what I was doing, and before I knew it, I was on
the Cadre's board, and richer and more powerful than I ever
imagined.
 

 Of course, I was denying happiness to billions, and
that's why I left years ago.
 

 I heard my beeper go off, and I went over to it.
Claire Danes' number.  I guess she talked to Anon--I wondered
how that went.
 

 I really wondered why she was paging me.  She said
she'd do it only if things turned ugly.
 

 I picked up the phone.  Well, it beat watching my
Cubs lose, anyhow.
 

* * *
 

Scott Chelgren
 

 I reached the last door in the hall, and walked
through.  Yeah, this was the room of a high school girl. I did
have more respect for her--her posters were of Ani and Soul
Coughing, not Alanis and Collective Soul.  Maybe she was a girl
with taste after all.
 

 She was sitting at her desk, studying.  I tried to
size up her age.  Sixteen?  Seventeen?  It was hard, and I never
was very good at it.  She did have cool short green hair,
though.  Always liked green hair.
 

 She stretched, and I sighed.  I was going to have to
forget.  I had done it before.  It had been easy then--my life
was largely forgetful before my change.  It would be very hard
now, for my life had been anything but forgetful since.  But I
would forget, somehow.
 

 Perhaps with this one, or one like her.  Perhaps.  A
thought was forming in my mind, one which I did not push away.
Perhaps I was going insane.  Or perhaps I was simply starting to
overcompensate.
 

 Perhaps.
 

* * *
 

D.X. Machina
 

 The phone rang just once before it picked up.
"David?" the voice said.  Claire's voice was quiet and quavery;
I began to wonder why.  "Yes, Claire.  How can I help you?  Did
my friend cause you any problems?"
 

 "Never mind about that," she said, abruptly.
"There's a far worse problem.  One which I think only you can
help me with."
 

 I paused.  "What is the problem, Claire?"
 

 "Do you remember a gentleman by the name of Scott
Chelgren?  You gave him the gift of GTS."
 

 "Of course, the subject of your script.  Why?"
 

 "He's missing."
 

 I sighed.  I tried to reach out to him.  I could do
it, sometimes.  But his mind was blocked.  His girlfriend's
mind, however, was howling with pain and anguish.  He decided he
was holding her back, eh?  Common enough.  I hoped he lived
long enough to get over this stupid notion.
 

 But--"Yes, I know.  He's got the idea he's holding
Sarah back somehow."
 

 I heard Claire mumble an oath, than say, "If you
know, you can find him and drag him back to Sarah.  Get it
through his tiny head that she loves him no matter what."
 

 "It's not that easy," I said, sitting down.  "I
mean, I give this gift, but what people do with it is up to--"
 

 "DON'T GIVE ME THAT CRAP!"  I jerked the phone away
from my ear.  Claire could yell!  "Find Scott!  Get him back to
my friend!"
 

 "You're not really in a position to give orders," I
offered.
 

 "Don't test me, Mr. Machina.  Or would you like me
to give the Cadre your pager number?  They're resourceful-They
could probably track you down with it."
 

 I chuckled.  She had style, all right.  "Very well.
Mr. Chelgren is in Minnesota, correct?  I'll do what I can."  We
concluded the call, and I leaned back.  I studied the crystal I
had pulled, then hung it around my neck.  I was off to my
hometown.  I hoped I could be of assistance.
 

* * *
 

Karen Kensington
Apple Valley, Minnesota.
 

 "Yeah, Sar, I know.  He'll come back.  He did in
L.A.  He loves you, y'know?  He's just screwed up right now....I
know he said that, but he'll figure out soon enough that he's
being a moron....Look, he managed to survive Universal Studios,
that place is easily as packed as First Ave.  He's okay.  Really.

 
 "I love you, Sar.  Take care....He will, I promise.
Yeah, bye."
 

 I hung up the phone and blinked back a tear.  Scott,
what the hell are you doing?  I mean, it's like you fight
through Los Angeles to get back to Sarah, and now you leave her?
You moron, she's nuts about you, and you're nuts about her.
Can't you see that?
 

 Maybe he can't.
 

 The course of true love never did run smooth, and
that's what you and Sarah have.
 

 Come on, figure it out Scott.
 

 Please?
 

* * *
 

Scott Chelgren
 

 I crawled under the bed, and was pleasantly surprised
to find quite a mess in under there, including a half-eaten bag
of chips, enough to feed me for the foreseeable future.  I laid
out a white bobby sock, and tried to make up a bed for myself.
Sleep wasn't going to come easy tonight, I could see that.  But
it would have to come.  The coming weeks were going to be hard.
 

 I peeked out under the bed ruffle and looked around
the room.
 

 The girl was changing for bed.  She was really quite
attractive, I couldn't help but notice.  I sighed as I watched
her pull her nightgown on, and head for the bed.
 

 She wasn't Sarah.
 

* * *
 

Sarah Kensington
Middlebrook Hall
West Bank, University of Minnesota
 

 "Sarah, what's wrong?"

 
 It was the question I had been dreading.  Kelly was
pretty perceptive, and she had picked up on my distress almost
immediately.  What to tell her?  The truth?  Yeah, that made no
damn sense.
 

 But I had to tell her something, and I found that I
was, indeed, telling her the truth.
 

 I had gotten almost halfway through the condensed
story of Scott and I before I realize what the hell I was doing,
and I stopped on a dime.  "I must sound crazy," I admitted, and
lapsed into silence.
 

 "No," she said, quietly.  "No, you don't.  Laurie
and I found a little man of our own o nce."
 

 My head jerked up.  "What!  What do you mean?"
 

 "We found him in our room last spring.  About two
inches tall.  He ran away, though.  We really just used him for,
um, personal stuff.  I don't think we ever even really thought
of him as human.  But he must have been like your Scott.  A real
person.  Scared and alone in a world of giants.  And we--man,
now we both feel bad."
 

 We sat in silence for a while, before Kelly finally
spoke again.
 

 "If it is true love, then he'll be back.  It's
inevitable.  It's the way the story has to end."
 

 "I wish I could believe that," I groaned.
 

 "We live in a world with two-inch-tall men," said
Kelly, quietly.  "I think almost anything is believable if you
accept that."
 

 I smiled slightly.  Maybe Kelly was right.