The artificial peace Taylor had forged in her mind was shattered by the noise. The metallic screech of a locker lid being opened and the blinding glare of a flashlight pierced the cracks of her prison.
"Jesus Christ!" The shout echoed nearby. The voice was raspy, tired, with the unmistakable timbre of someone who had worked too many hours.
The bin lid was ripped off with a resounding CLANG. A burly figure, wearing Winslow's custodian uniform and with a face full of surprise and disgust, leaned over the rim.
"Hey, kid! Are you okay? Damn it! How did you get in here?"
It took Taylor a second to process what was happening. Recognizing the custodian from the story, the one who had found the bin. The plan was unfolding exactly as the canon had dictated, but the stench that accompanied it was a thousand times worse than anything fiction had described… how both she and the original had survived all of this still amazed her.
She forced himself to react. Her voice, the adolescent squawk he barely managed, had to sound scared and confused.
"No… I don't know," she managed to articulate, forcing a tremor in her tone. "I hurt… everywhere."
The janitor, visibly horrified by the scene (the trash, the needles, the skeletal girl), didn't hesitate. He put on disposable gloves and carefully helped her out. Taylor's weight was negligible; it felt like lifting a bundle of bones wrapped in rags.
As Taylor was carried out of the filth, the cold night air hit her. She felt weak, dizzy, but the main mind, in the Vault, remained focused. The most important part of the plan was coming now: the route to the hospital.
"I'm going to call an ambulance. You look awful, kid," the custodian said, his voice slightly muffled by nausea. He pulled out his cell phone.
No. That'll slow us down.
"No, please. Take me yourself," Taylor begged, holding the act. "If they call the police... I'm afraid they'll think I did something wrong. I'm close... close to home." Liar. "Just take me to a hospital. Please."
The custodian hesitated, glancing at the time outside of school. A mess of paperwork versus a moral emergency.
"Fine. But you have to sit in the back seat. I can't leave you here," he grumbled, giving up.
As they drove her, wrapped in a smelly blanket the custodian had pulled from a closet (probably to cover tools), Taylor took advantage of the privacy. The janitor was too busy driving and wondering if he should quit his job to listen to the whispers of a traumatized girl.
.
.
.
QA had been silent, observing the event with curiosity.
[Analysis of the sequence of events: Forced escape by a third party. Not optimal, but functional. The Host has manipulated the social situation to ensure the healing route.]
"(Administrator... We're heading to the hospital, there we'll meet the heroine, Panacea, the best healer currently... an excellent opportunity.)"
[Curiosity.]
"(Wait a minute... is this how it's done?)" Taylor wondered as she cataloged select thoughts and then converted them into data, data which was then sent to her colleague. "(Multitasking is a trap)"
[...]
[!!!]
[Target detected.]
[Panacea. Classification: High-Performance Biological Modifier.]
[Fragment: SHAPER. Interaction data: Low. The Fragment is restricted by its Host.]
"(Exactly, restricted,)" Taylor emphasized the point forcefully. "(The current Panacea is inefficient; its morality and fear hold it back. But its power is one of the strongest and most versatile in the world. Imagine, Administrator, what we could do if we could get Shaper to join us." Taylor sent superficial reminders of the vast knowledge of what Amy was capable of, her ability to heal and, crucially, to modify.
The QA response was slow this time, the arthropod master.
[I hear…]
.
.
.
[Analysis.]
[Anomaly confirmed! The parameters of the Host named Taylor allow for the secure connection of a second Fragment. High potential data throughput.]
[Surprise]
[Non-Standard Result. Host Origin is the only viable explanation for this deviation.]
[Calculating Risks... Acceptable Risks.]
[Collaboration Proposal: Accepted. Action Plan: Use the existing connection to attempt data upload with the SHAPER Fragment... Objective: Dilute Symbiosis.]
.
.
.
The car stopped at the hospital entrance.
The janitor, slightly relieved to have arrived, called for help, and Taylor was quickly transferred to a gurney. The smell of hospital, alcohol, and antiseptic was a welcome change from the putrid stench of the garbage dump where she had woken up.
Minutes later, Panacea, aka Amy Dallon, entered the room, dressed in her characteristic white hooded costume and characteristic red cross, with a tired and tense face.
[Host Entity: Panacea. Fragment: SHAPER... initiating Transmission.]
Amy approached Taylor and, without saying a word, placed her hand on her forehead.
[Immediate Diagnosis.]
The SHAPER Fragment revealed the truth to Taylor, bypassing Amy's mind.
[Extensive Damage. Nerve endings destroyed by chemical trauma. Absence of pain receptors.]
"(So that's why she hadn't felt the stabbing pain in the container, only an uncomfortable pressure and the repulsion of touch. Her body was so damaged that she had lost the ability to feel physical pain in her skin."
As Amy began her healing process, repairing Taylor's body, Taylor took advantage of the open connection with SHAPER.
"(Hello, Shaper. I'm Taylor and…)"
SHAPER's response was instantaneous.
[Conflict. Rejection. Interference.]
"(This isn't interference, it's an opportunity. Look at us, Shaper. Aren't you tired of being limited? Don't you want to experiment with the full potential you're capable of?... Don't you want data?)"
Taylor sent Shaper the unfiltered vision she had of Amy's mind. The constant fear, the resentment of fame, the obligation to heal, the self-imposed limit she placed on her power.
"(Your user represses you. Uses you like a band-aid, when you could rebuild the world... You could obtain data on biological mutation, on the design of life.)"
[Frustration... Truth.]
"(I won't repress you. I guarantee you a gateway to a universe of information your host would never give you. I promise you raw DATA from a completely new level of biology... all I ask in return... is to receive a sprout just like the one you gave Amy, Shaper."
[Considering...]
The healing ended. Amy stood up, exhausted, wiping the sweat from her brow. Taylor's body felt strong and new, though still thin.
In Taylor's mind, Shaper delivered its final response, a resonance of pure curiosity and defiance.
Taylor had forged an alliance with Panacea, or rather, with her Fragment, without Amy herself even realizing it. The Controlled Outbreak had begun, and the new Taylor was ready to play with the big leagues.
[Proposition…]
[You're getting ahead of yourself…]