The Twelve Month Challenge: The March To War

Ah, another month, another missed deadline. This time, I finished the story on time, but couldn’t post because I was traveling in Tokyo. As excuses go, this is one of my better ones. For those interested, I was in Tokyo to research my next novel. It went fantastic, and I feel like I’m ready to start writing.

In any case, the March story was posted late, but it was completed on time, so at least I am still following the spirit of the rules.

Of course, now I’m late with April’s story, so I better get crackin’.

Tig sits in the corner with her tablet watching The Princess Of Babylonia for the 46th time. She pointedly ignores the cluster of adults conversing in her living room.

Entertaining is one of Tig’s chief responsibilities. Nearly every night, important executives visit their family home. Tig, like the twenty-foot-high ceiling, the massive flat screen, the wooden statues, and the hand-woven rug from the previous century, is among the exhibits.

“Come over here, Tig. The Shens want to ask you some questions.”

Tig shuts down her tablet and presents herself for inspection. She holds herself as erect as possible, like Princess Ishtar when she stood before the first gate to the underworld.

“Oh, aren’t you sweet? What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“I want to be a princess.”

“How cute.”

Tig’s mother, however, does not find her response amusing. “I thought you wanted to be an executive, isn’t that right?”

“You want me to be an executive, mother.”

“It’s those Disney movies she’s been watching, dear. I always thought they were a bad idea.” Her father never misses a chance to offer parenting advice after the fact.

“Maybe they are a bit militant, especially considering the current state of affairs.”

“We’d never let our children watch that kind of patriotic sludge. Those movies are mostly marketed to outsiders.”

As the adults argue the finer points of parenting in a corporate setting, Tig slips off to her room. She feels no remorse for disappointing her mother. Her parents are the ones being lax in their duties, so there is no reason she should be expected to hold up her end of the bargain. Besides, if they can’t stop criticizing Princess Ishtar, she has nothing to say to them.
_________

Tig spends much of her free time doing nothing. It is her greatest act of rebellion. In a time when study schedules are calculated to the second and curricula are planned out years in advance, there is no action quite so mutinous as laying on top of her bed with all her devices powered off, staring up at the ceiling and thinking.

Tonight she ponders what kind of genetic engineering went into her creation. Other than her father’s blue eyes and her mother’s singing voice, Tig seems almost completely manufactured in some scientist’s notebook.

Her father is the indulgent one. He is a Company spokesperson, the kind of job that can go to any silver-tongued spouse of an executive and which fortuitously fell to him. He is popular, another way to say he is good at his job, and at least his position is secure. Just last week, Tig overheard him saying his contract had been renewed for another three years.

Tig’s mother is a theoretical physicist. Tig’s not sure exactly what that means, but she knows that the fact it’s theoretical is considered bad. Her parents are always fretting about their positions within the company, especially her mother, and from what’s she’s been able to make out from their conversations—when Tig cares to listen at all—the only reason her mother still has a job is because of some complex politicking from the HU that has kept her position from being made redundant.

Tig doesn’t care much about her parents’ careers. She doesn’t like the Company and she certainly doesn’t like the Network. The only person she hopes to emulate is Princess Ishtar, who seems far nobler than any of the adults in her life.

What Tig does understand is that her mother resents her father for being forced to be the taskmaster. “You want her to hate me, don’t you?” is a common refrain at the dinner table just before her mother assigns her some arduous chore. The one thing they’ve been able to agree on is neither parent has been willing to completely leave their daughter’s upbringing to the Network, and it’s that fear that represents the one piece of heritage that Tig inherited from them.

Tig resents the Network. And just as Princess Ishtar escaped Heaven, she means to find a way to cut herself free.
_____________

When Ishtar ran away from Heaven, she didn’t have to worry about the Network tracking her. She was a goddess and she had the power of magic at her disposal. She simply transported herself down to Earth using her Starwand, accompanied by her pet lion Nanna.

Tig doesn’t have a magic Starwand or any animal companions to help her reach Outside. Her only asset is that despite their protests to the contrary, her parents are rather inattentive. Step one of her plan, sneak out of the home without her parents noticing, comes off without a hitch.

Tig’s home is located in Residential Area H, Block 17, Apartment 42-11. Because that moniker is considered too impersonal, the complex is generally referred to as Pacific Heights. She’d once asked the Network what that name means and was told it referred to a neighborhood in historical San Francisco once considered a desirable place to live. The modern day Pacific Heights is also exclusive, but not really that different from any other executive residence as far as Tig can tell.

The passageways in Pacific Heights are bright, wide, and generally not very crowded. The APM here consists only of moving platforms in either direction. It’s no problem for Tig to be traveling by herself, but she can’t help but glance occasionally at the overhead cameras tracking her. She tries to maintain a placid demeanor, but she’s already nervous the Network has flagged her for atypical behavior.

There is a woman moving in the other direction. As she comes nearer, the frequency of Tig’s furtive glances increases, until she’s outright ogling the woman. The tragic narratives in her head multiply at an equal rate, and Tig is close to confessing her intentions on the spot.

As the woman passes, barely sparing her a glance, Tig’s heart rate gradually reduces. The Network almost certainly has noted her anxiety, but now that she can think clearly again, she decides the only way to approach her escape is to treat it like a game. Instead of eating space mushrooms or searching for jewels in a fiery obstacle course, she just needs to modulate her biorhythmic responses so that the Network doesn’t take notice.

Tig reaches the exit to Pacific Heights without anymore near-panic attacks. Princess Ishtar would be proud.
__________

Not being able to ask the Network for directions leaves Tig to wander aimlessly. The result is she has stumbled upon a supervised play area that may or may not be near the neighborhood’s outer perimeter.

Tig watches as several boys fight. They’ve all ganged up on the biggest boy to the point it isn’t fair. Even if he is a couple of years older, he can’t win against six. For a moment, Tig wonders why the Network hasn’t decided to intervene—there’s a supervisory bot watching from the crow’s nest—but then she thinks of Princess Ishtar.

Tig is bigger than all the boys. She pulls them apart and puts herself between the bullies and the victim.

“Let us go. His dad’s from Canada.” No wonder they were bullying him. It’s been in the news for days, the increasing build up of forces on either side of the Sino-Canadian border. War is expected to break out any time.

“Get out of here and leave him alone.”

As the instigators saunter away with a few mean glances over their shoulders, Tig stares up at the bot. Maybe the Network had predicted the likelihood of her intervention. You can never tell with the Network.

“What’s your name?”

“Gray.”

“I’m Tig. Are you ok?” Gray has some bruising around his right eye, and he’s using one of his sleeves to staunch the bleeding in his nose.

“My dad says I’m named after the last president. Before the separation.”

“Is your dad really Canadian?”

He refuses to respond, but Tig doesn’t need the Network to know the answer is yes.

“Don’t worry, I don’t care about some stupid war. I’m running away. I want to go Outside.”

Gray scoffs. “You can’t run away. The Network always knows where you are and what you are doing.”

“Princess Ishtar ran away.”

“That’s just a stupid movie.”

For a moment, Tig wishes she’d left Gray to the bullies, but then she remembers he’s just a boy. “I’m going to go now. Try not to get yourself beat up.”

“My dad says that blue used to be a color.”

Tig stops. “That’s stupid. Blue is a berry or a feeling.”

“My dad said it was. He said the sky used to be blue and everything.”

Tig dislikes anyone who knows something she doesn’t. It’s too much like the Network. “You might as well say that straw or sad are colors.”

“Orange is a color and a fruit.”

“Fine. Let’s ask the Network.” She wants so badly to prove him wrong, she doesn’t notice the contradiction. Tig is too young to realize, but ignoring the Network is like trying to hold your breath. No matter how hard you try, you’ll eventually give in.

One archaic use of the word Blue refers to it as a color. Example: We could see the blue sky through the clouds.

“That’s stupid,” Tig complains.

“The Network can’t be wrong.”

“Well my dad has always said there’s a place where the Network doesn’t reach.”

“The Network is everywhere. It always knows what you’re doing.”

Tig walks away more determined than ever.
____________

Tig gets off the personal transport at central station. There’s no system map. There’s no need for maps when all you have to do is tell the Network where you want to go. Tig watches the people walk by. Everyone moves with a sense of purpose, knowing exactly where they’re headed, their attention distracted by whatever program they are watching or feeds they are following. No one looks around them. Tig realizes that each one of them is in her own little bubble. Certainly, none of them will be able to tell her how to get to the harbor.

Then Tig spots an old person.

Princess Ishtar learned her magic from the old woman who lived in a house by the water. Her name was Tammuz. The movie implied that because she was old, Tammuz had a great deal to teach, ancient wisdom that even the Network didn’t know.

Her parents have often warned Tig to avoid old people. Being old is a disease, they say. Tig isn’t going to have to worry about growing old, ever. They speak about being old like it’s some fault of the person who’s old, but Tig doesn’t understand that. The Company is supposed to provide everything, so why doesn’t it give the old people medicine if they are sick. Her parents and tutors never explain it, and talking to the Network about the Company is generally useless.

TIg decides to ask the old person for directions.

He is sitting alone. Most people ignore his presence, but one woman is about to sit on the bench next to him, when she notices him. She hustles in the opposite direction.

“Do you know how to get to the harbor?”

Her question startles the old man. He even looks about him, trying to figure out who Tig is addressing. “Why don’t you ask the Network?”

“The Network doesn’t like me and I don’t like the Network.”

The old man is satisfied with the answer and he scoots over to offer Tig a seat on his bench.

“Why do you want to go to the harbor? There’s nothing down there but loading docks and warehouses. You doing a report for your tutors or something?”

Tig debates how honest she should be. She knows she shouldn’t trust an old person, but he isn’t anything like what she was suspecting. In programs, the old people are all either perverts who hate the latest technologies or malfunctioning sleepers that have somehow woken up and are terrorizing the city. This man may be old, but he still seems like a person.

“I want to see what it’s like on the Outside.”

The old man starts laughing. Tig’s affection for him instantly dissipates.

“Shut up.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe I didn’t hear you correctly. Where are you trying to go?

“Outside. You know, away from the Network.”

“Listen here, little girl. There was a time, a long time ago, when there wasn’t any Network. There was just phone lines or television signals. If you wanted to give someone a gift in Beijing, you had to send it there by post. People had to do jobs just to get fed. Some people didn’t have any food and they died of hunger.

“What does that have to do with me going Outside?”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t have anything to do with it. But I’m not going to help you if you’re going to badmouth the Network.”

“I don’t need your help. I can find the harbor by myself. I was just trying to be nice because you looked lonely.”

“How can I be lonely? I’ve got the Network. Now get out of here. You’re bothering me.”

Tig sulks away. She’s about to give up hope and just jump on the first car she comes to when she spies a water tank being loaded onto a transport. That water must have come from the Harbor. She can just follow it wherever it’s going.

The question doesn’t occur to her until much later whether the tank is empty or fill.
________

Most people have little working knowledge of the Bay Area’s Personal Transit System. Other than being able to recite the list of rules that every rider must adhere to and which are announced at the beginning of every trip, most patrons only know how to work the onboard entertainment system.

Normally, you don’t even have to tell Network where you’re headed. It already knows.

So when Tig states that she wants to follow the water tank, the Network politely responds:

I’m sorry, that is not a valid input. Where would you like to go?

Failing to chase the tank, Tig gets off at a station called Lone Mountain. Something about the name reminds her of Princess Ishtar, but there’s nothing mountainous about the area. It’s a typical recreation district, with a LARP house, an MMA center, and a War Games.

By now, the Network must be suspicious. Perhaps she has alerted Tig’s parents, or worse, sent a security detail to bring her back. The plaza is so crowded, Tig would be in custody before she even saw the bots coming.

She pushes through the mass of people to the nearest food kiosk. It’s named Tea Party and specializes in garishly colored bubble tea and ice cream treats. Tig’s parents used to bring her here to reward her for good test scores.

The server directs her to a seat at the bar. What are you doing so far from home? It’s meant as a polite address, but Tig hears in it something more sinister. She refuses to reply.

“I’d like a Chocolate Tea.”

Excellent choice, Ms. Blum.

Besides Tig, there are two men in the kiosk, huddled over their teas in Space Pirate costumes. They stop talking to watch Tig order, then resume their conversations in whispers.

The older of the two men is dressed like a captain, with a garish uniform made out of Silitex™ and a long, black ponytail. He’s even grown out his facial hair. The younger man is wearing a green fueler’s coat with dozens of patches sewn in representing his guild achievements. If her parents were here, they would have undoubtedly had some snide comment at the LARPers expense.

The bot returns with Tig’s drink, and she stops it to ask a question—as innocently as possible.

“Where does the kiosk gets its water?”

It is provided by the WU.

“Who?”

The Water Utility. It is a branch of the Company.

“Where do they get their water?”

The Pacific Ocean.

“Where in the Pacific Ocean?”

If you like, you can use the terminal over there to ask the Network about the WU’s operations.

Before Tig can ask another question, the bot spins around and heads back towards the kitchen. When she looks over at the pirates, she sees that they are giggling at her. This angers her a great deal, yet frightens her at the same time.

There’s something about adults that Tig has never understood. They patronize children for their own amusement, tease them, order them about, and then expect to be obeyed. She has often suspected that childhood is a recent invention, manufactured by adults for a source of constant amusement and menial labor, for many of the same reasons the sleepers were created.

For Princess Ishtar, adults are people that don’t understand her and constantly get in her way. They are also capable of great evil. That’s why Princess Ishtar is almost turned into a sleeper herself. But despite her mistrust of what adults can do, Tig has also learned that every great adventure needs adversaries to overcome.

“Can you tell me where the Harbor is?”

The men stop giggling and look at each other. The younger one says, “You shouldn’t talk to strangers, little girl,” and then the pair begin laughing even harder.

“What are you laughing at?”

The older man, still smirking, gestures to chair next to him. “Have a seat. We didn’t mean to offend you.”

“We weren’t even laughing about you.”

“What was it then?”

“It was just a joke. You wouldn’t get it. Not unless you’re a space pirate.”

“But you’re not really space pirates. You’re just pretending.”

“Oh, we have a smart one here, Chester. She thinks she knows something we don’t.”

“Everybody knows that space pirates aren’t real.”

“I have a secret for you, little girl. Everyone’s pretending. This whole society is built on people pretending. None of it really matters.”

Tig has never heard an adult talk like this. It’s exciting and frightening at the same time. “Do you work for the company?”

This question sets them to laughing once again. “Of course we do,” answers Chester. “We couldn’t be here otherwise. George here is a Software Development supervisor, and I’m your basic Executive.”

“If you ask me, our jobs are completely useless.” George chuckles at the prospect. Tig intuits that were her parents here, they would not enjoy the antics of these pirates. They never spoke so lightly of their jobs, nor of the Company.

“In fact,” Chester adds, “you might say that we’re completely useless as well.” This sets the pair to laughing so hard, they can barely stay in their seats.

“So do you know how to get to the Harbor or not?”

“Why don’t you ask the Network?”

“Yeah, the Network knows everything.”

“We shouldn’t have to rely on the Network.” When Tig says this, the two men suddenly get very serious.

“I was just expressing the same sentiment to Chester. You might amount to something, someday kid.”

“I thought you said nothing matters?”

“She’s got you there George.”

“Why do you want to go to the Harbor, anyway? They don’t allow people in there unless they’re on Company business. They certainly won’t let a kid in like you. It’s too dangerous.”

“I have my reasons.”

“We don’t care about your reasons.”

“Yeah, your reasons don’t matter.”

“But you just asked me why I’m going.”

“Nobody asked you that. What we want to know is, do you want to join with us and become a Space Pirate. We’ve got a mission coming up right after this.”

“That’s right, George. And we could use another partner.”

“We get a 15% bonus every time we recruit someone to join our guild. And last time I checked there wasn’t an age limit.” This sets them both laughing once again. By now Tig realizes they won’t be of any help, but feels triumphant in that she’s no longer afraid of them.

“Can you at least point me to the Harbor. Which direction is it?”

“It’s down there, somewhere!” Chester points to the floor.

“No it isn’t. It’s in here.” George taps his head.

Tig shakes her head as she walks away.
______________

Tig wanders aimlessly. She never realized before how labyrinthine the tunnels and walkways of the city are without the Network. There are no markers, no signposts, no breadcrumbs to guide her. Every time she steps around a corner, she finds herself confronted by the same steel and neon infrastructure. The monotony begins to weigh on her.

As she enters the latest plaza, this one dominated by the flashing red and yellow Jollibee logo, Tig realizes she has found her way to the entrance to the Potrero Observatory. Tig has always wanted to ride to the top, as it is the highest point in all of San Francisco and the only place where you can actually see Outside. Her parents, citing their fear of earthquakes, have never allowed her to visit.

Tig is suddenly faced with an existential dilemma. On the one hand, she is committed to her emulation of Princess Ishtar and fully intends to follow through with her plan to escape Outside. On the other hand, there stands before her the entrance to one of her long cherished dreams. So what if from the observatory she can’t actually enter Outside. She’ll at least be able to have a look.

Tig joins the steady stream of people moving through the Potrero entrance. The atrium within is even larger than the plaza outside, with a ceiling that’s 20 meters high, and a 2nd floor balcony that has a live orchestra. The wide expanse makes Tig feel very small indeed. Some visitors are there to admire the architecture or enjoy the music, but most have formed a line outside the lift that will take them to the top. Tig remembers Chester, who just an hour ago had directed her down, and here she is on the verge of ascending to heaven, much like Princess Ishtar eventually does.

But Tig’s dreams of ascension are quickly thwarted when she notices the sign above the lift entrance. Minors not allowed unless accompanied by their legal guardian. Now that her access is restricted, it makes Tig want to visit the observatory even more.

As her mind deliberates over a possible solution, Tig wanders towards the back of the atrium where she notices a pair of sliding doors through which bots have been coming and going. No one appears to be guarding the entrance and so she heads through as a cleaning bot rolls past.

The other side is a mess of disorder the likes of which Tig has never seen before. There are machines of all shapes and sizes. They are mounted from the ceiling, set on counters, recessed into cubicles, or placed into corners. Bot are moving about in a frenzy, sparks are flying, and the noise, which had been contained by the doorway, hits Tig with a concussive force. Most curious of all, the scale of the bots ranges from the size of a transporter to small enough to fit inside the palm of her hand. Tig is especially fascinated by what she imagines is a tiny village of tiny machines.

She’s not standing there for more than a few seconds before a bot approaches her. Humans are not allowed in here without authorization.

“Where can I get authorization?”

I’m not authorized to tell you that.

A frustrated Tig is turning back towards the exit when a second bot approaches.

Humans are not allowed in here without authorization. Please allow me to escort you back to the Atrium.

The intrusion of the second bot seems to anger the first. I have already alerted the human. You are not needed here.

I am in charge of security protocol for this area. You are not needed here.

This is something else Tig has never seen before, two bots arguing with each other. It seems to defy possibility. “Aren’t you both connected to the Network?”

Rather than answer, however, both bots turn to Tig and proclaim, This doesn’t concern you, human. Please exit the area. They quickly resume bickering and Tig watches in fascination.

The form that their argument takes resembles that of a text reader reciting a Shakespeare play. There’s a lot of drama in what they have to say, but the tone of delivery never accelerates. Each bot maintains the same cool demeanor, never raising its voice, yet they both refuse to yield.

If you insist on continuing, I will be forced to report your behavior to the Network.

You are the one deviating from protocol.

Tig expects it will continue on like this until another bot or the Network intervenes, but suddenly the smaller bot attacks the larger one, ripping components off with its grasping tool. Tig moves quickly back through the exit and hustles into the nearest tunnel. She doesn’t want to be questioned by anyone for her involvement in the incident. She’s certain the Network will chose to blame her for instigating the altercation.
___________

Princess Ishtar doesn’t have any parents, none that get mentioned anyway. She could have been grown in a lab or sprouted from one of the other Gods. The movie never refers to her as an orphan. She’s just Princess Ishtar. There’s probably a king or queen somewhere, but they obviously aren’t important to understanding Ishtar’s story.

This is what Tig is thinking about as she’s riding the train to the end of the line. The screen in front of her is talking war, but she’s lost in thought. Her new strategy is to let fate or fortune determine her destination.

The terminus is named Lake Merced. A lake does not sound much like the Pacific Ocean, but Tig still remains hopeful as she steps out of the train.

The Harding Park Lawn & Tennis Club is the most beautiful place Tig has ever seen. The grass and trees are more beautiful than in any of the movies she’s watched because they are real. She can actually touch them. The grass tickles her skin, and the way it caresses her lets her know she’s alive.

And this is just from the entrance, with a small patch of lawn and a pair of small trees not much taller than Tig’s apartment. She can see through the window—an actual window, not a projection—that there is a whole expanse of grass and trees inside the Club.

“Can I help you, darling?”

Tig turns to see an elegantly dressed woman approaching on the walkway.

“It’s beautiful.”

“She sure is. Is this your first time to the club?”

“I didn’t know places like this existed.” The woman looks at Tig with a curious expression.

“Are you here with your parents?” The woman looks around, but there are no adults anywhere near the pair that could claim her.

“Is that really the sky?”

“No, of course not. The entire course is enclosed. What you’re looking at is a projection.”

“Oh.” Tig feels cheated. “So the trees aren’t real either?”

“They’re definitely real. So is the grass. The grounds are lit by an ultraviolet diffuser that mimics natural sunlight. This is the largest golf and tennis facility in all of New China. But listen to me go on. Why don’t you tell me how I can help you, Tig?”

Not using the Network puts Tig at a disadvantage. She has no idea who this woman is, while the woman has instant access to Tig’s public profile.

“I don’t need any help.”

“Are you sure, dear?”

“What color is the sky?” This question flummoxes the woman. She looks up and really looks for the first time.

“I’ve never thought about it, really. We just call it the sky color.”

“Is that what color the sky really is?”

“Why are you asking me such hard questions, darling? You can just ask the Network.”

“People should know things, too. If you rely on the Network all the time, what happens if the networks fail?”

“You sound like a Disney movie, don’t you?” The woman smiles down at Tig good-naturedly. “But we don’t have to worry about that right now.”

With that, the woman turns and walks away, moving as quickly as her tightly wound leg banners will allow.

Tig lays down and stares up at the fake sky. White puffs are slowly floating past. She sees one shaped like a little girl, a ghost of a girl, and somehow it is slower than the other puffs. She seems lost in the great expanse above her.

Tig decides to turn on her communicator.

“How do I get to the Harbor?”

Fifteen minutes later, Tig is apprehended by two Category C security bots.
___________

Tig sits alone in the adjudication room. She doesn’t understand what the word means, despite the best efforts of the Network to explain it to her. The truth is, she really doesn’t care.

There’s a familiar song playing. It makes her think of her childhood, when she was much younger. Technically, she’s still a child now, but she’s the same age that Princess Ishtar was when she left Heaven so she doesn’t think of herself that way. This music, though she can’t remember the name, is a song for children.

The walls, all four of them, and ceiling are covered with animals. There are pandas and rabbits and bears. They are dancing to the music. Tig likes the music and the dancing animals. They make her smile. And she hates the Network for that.

Why did you try to go Outside, Antigone?

“I don’t have to answer you.”

Why don’t you like me any more? We used to be such good friends.

“It’s impossible to be friends with a computer.”

Her whole life, her parents rarely acknowledged her presence, except when guests were in the house. When she was attending group learning sessions, she’d hear the other students talk about playdates or extracurriculars, but Tig was never invited. Why? Her parents wouldn’t say, though she could see the guilt in their eyes whenever she asked.

So it was just her and the Network. At least the Network was there all the time. It didn’t matter where she was, she always had someone to talk to. Someone to answer her questions. Someone to play games with.

Do you remember the Peony Song? You used to like me to sing it as you fell asleep?

The music changes all of a sudden, and now it’s just the Network’s voice, gentle and caressing like it’s always been.

“That’s a song for babies.”

Then maybe we can play a new game. I know lots of them.

“You can’t understand what it’s like. Just go away and leave me alone. Please.”

I’m sorry Tig. I just want you to be happy.

Tig starts to cry.

What’s wrong?

“Stop talking, just stop talking!”

There is something intelligent in the way the Network interacts with people. One of its smartest traits is to shut up when desired. No one wants to hear a computer jabbering on.

The silence gives Tig a chance to reflect. What is she doing here, in the adjudication room? What did she hope to accomplish with her fool’s errand? Is she guilty of what her parent’s always accused her of, seeking their attention?

After a while, Tig starts telling a story.

“Ishtar leaves Heaven because she is bored. Most of her friends have either fallen asleep or been consigned to the underworld. Tammuz offers to go with her, and so together they voyage to Earth, even though it means they will never be allowed to return to Heaven again.

“They have many adventures. But then Tammuz is killed by the wicked Enchanter and Ishtar is left all alone. Princess Ishtar blames herself. Only by traveling into Hell and bringing Tammuz back with her will she ever be able to forgive herself for getting her killed. She marches to the gates of Hell and fights her way past using her magic Starwand.

“But Tammuz refuses to leave. Princess Ishtar says that if that’s the case, she will stay with her in the underworld. Tammuz convinces her that the best way for her to earn forgiveness is to return to Heaven and defend it from the wicked Enchanter.

“Of course, Princess Ishtar does all that Tammuz asks of her. She rallies the other Gods and leads them in battle against the evil forces. She defeats the wicked Enchanter and saves Heaven. She becomes a hero.

“What I want to know is whether she lives happily ever after.”

This is the first time Tig has ever known the Network to hesitate before answering.

What do you think?

“I think that we’re supposed to believe that she did. But I think that’s just for movies.”

Why are you so sad, Tig?

“I’m lonely.”

How can you be lonely when I’m here? It is my function to keep you entertained and educate you.

“That’s exactly why I’m lonely.”

________

The Network determines that Tig will be remanded to the protective care of the Company. By running away, Tig exceeded the allowable threshold of bad parenting and her Mother and Father are ruled no longer fit to be her legal guardians. Losing a child to the Company is considered a tremendous embarrassment. But as they would tell their friends, sometimes parents are cursed with a willful and recalcitrant child and everyone is better off if the Network takes over.

For Tig’s part, the ordeal has taught her a valuable lesson: It’s best to keep your discontentments to yourself.

She definitely does not live happily ever after, though she does live for a very long time and through several more wars.