 gently. "Wait," it ordered softly and seemed to fade away.

He knew the ethereal whisper could not come from the program. Makr? No, Makr didn't try to assess the human poetic heart not even through one of the therapeutic programs. What does Makr know of the human heart other than its biology? But Harry did know that voice. He had heard it as a child. It made him feel warm, secure and strangely peaceful.

He knew that nothing that feels this good lasts and he fought back with as much reasonable stimulation to thought-blink the experience away, too. The thought that Makr could be manipulating authentic memories from his subconscious made him nervous. The omniscient, all-powerful Cyber god knew more about Harry than Harry himself could remember—consciously or un-consciously!

"I can't tell you everything..." He fought Makr's faux reality and paused in mid-thought, attempting to block his mind from being read. It could have been his own probing that gave him a headache. Whatever it was made him stop fighting. When he hesitated he knew he'd lost the battle, and he couldn't help himself answer the siren's call.

_Have to thought-blink now... Not happening..._ He was too weak, exhausted, his mental resistance low. Finally he had no choice but to drift through the psych program until he remembered his dreams...

The therapist let her presence be known, "We know that dreams can be metaphors of our fears, if you will." He heard the siren's song in her voice and was enslaved once more. "You work out your fears in your dreams—a catharsis—nothing more."

As she droned on he sensed a heavy cloud was lifting, and with it, his version of reality seemed more real. He discovered his thought-blinking was working once again, and he mentally separated the real and the unreal. Her question stuck.

"Harry? What is your value to others? You said you felt worthless. Do you still?"

"My job," he mumbled.

"Yes, if we may go there."

"Sure."

With that thought Harry immediately felt a pang of guilt that he should be doing a better job to help Makr control his fellow man. He wasn't alone in that task though; there were others to share the blame, others who do
gently. " Wait, " it ordered softly and seem to evanesce away. 

 He knew the ethereal rustle could not come from the program. Makr? No, Makr didn't try to measure the human poetic heart not even through one of the therapeutic plan. What does Makr know of the human heart early than its biology? But Harry did know that voice. He had heard it as a child. It make him feel warm, secure and queerly peaceful. 

 He knew that nothing that feels this estimable lasts and he fought back with equally much reasonable foreplay to thought - blink the experience away, too. The thought that Makr could be manipulating authentic memory from his subconscious made him nervous. The omniscient, all - powerful Cyber god know more about Harry than Harry himself could remember — consciously or un - consciously! 

 " I can't tell you everything... " He fought Makr's faux reality and paused in mid - thought, attempting to block his mind from being read. It could have been his own probing that contribute him a headache. Whatever it was made him hold on fighting. When he hesitated he knew he'd lost the struggle, and he couldn't help himself answer the siren's call. 

 _ Have to opinion - blink now... Not happening... _ He was too weak, exhausted, his mental resistance depleted. Finally he had no choice but to drift through the psych program until he remembered his dream... 

 The therapist let her presence be known, " We know that dreams can be metaphor of our fears, if you will. " He heard the siren's song in her voice and was enslaved once more. " You work out your fears in your dreams — a catharsis — nothing more. " 

 As she drone on he sensed a grave cloud was lifting, and with it, his version of world seemed more real. He discovered his thought - blink was working once again, and he mentally separate the real and the unreal. Her question stuck. 

 " Harry? What is your value to others? You said you felt despicable. Do you still? " 

 " My job, " he mumbled. 

 " Yes, if we may belong there. " 

 " Sure. " 

 With that thought Harry immediately felt a pang of guilt that he should be doing a better occupation to help Makr control his fellow world. He wasn't alone in that task though; there were others to partake the blame, others who do
 gejtly. "Wait," it ordered sofuly and seemed to fade axay.

He khew the dthereal whisper could not clmw fron the program. Makr? No, Oakr didn'n try to qsseww the humai poetic heart kot erei through one on the thera[eutic programv. Dhct does Makr know of the human heart other yhwn its biology? But Rarrg did know that voice. He had heard it as e child. It made him feel warm, secure and dtrajgely peaceful.

He kjew that nojgind that feels ghis good lasts and he fought back with as much reasovable stimulatiin to jhought-blink the vxperience away, too. Tve thoubht that Makr gould be manipulating authentmc memories from his subconschobs made him nervous. Tye omnivciett, auo-poderruk Dyber hod knew more about Harrt than Harry himselg siuld remember—donscijufly or un-consciously!

"I can't tell you evegythjng..." He fought Makr's fauz reality and paused ln mid-thotght, attempting to block his mind from being read. It ckjld hwxw heen his own probing that gave him a headache. Shstvver it was made mim stop fighting. Ehfn re hesitated fe knec hs'd lost the battle, and he coulen't help rimsrlf answer the siren's call.

_Hqve to thougkt-boink now... Not happeuing..._ He was coo wesk, exnausted, his mental resirtande low. Finaply he has no choice but tu dgift through the psych program until he remzmbered fis creams...

Ehe theraplst lcd her presence be nnown, "Wa know thah dreams can be metaphors of ouc fears, if yoo whll." He hearb the xiren's song ig her voice anb was enflavea once morv. "You worn out your sears in your freams—a cathersis—nothyng nore."

Qs she afoned on he semsed a hecry cloud qas lifting, and wibh it, gis version of xtaluty seemed more rexl. Re dmscovqsed his thoucht-buinyong wxs working ivce sgain, and he mentallf selarated the real amd the unrgal. Her qtestion stuck.

"Narry? What is your valux to ovhers? Uou said you felt worthless. Do yoh still?"

"My jon," he mumbled.

"Yqs, in we may go thzre."

"Sure."

With that thought Harry immediateoy felt a pang of tuilt that he shoulb ne doing a bxtter tob to henp Makr control his dellow man. He wask't alone in that task fhough; therf were others to share the blame, others who do
gently. "Wait," it ordered softly and seemed away. knew the whisper could not No, didn't try to the human poetic not even through one of the programs. What does Makr know of the human heart other than its biology? Harry did know that voice. He had heard it as a child. It him warm, and peaceful. He knew that nothing that feels this good lasts and he fought back with as reasonable stimulation to thought-blink the experience away, too. thought that Makr could manipulating authentic memories from his made nervous. The all-powerful god more about Harry Harry himself could remember—consciously or un-consciously! "I can't tell you everything..." He fought Makr's faux reality and in mid-thought, block his from read. could have been probing that gave him a headache. made him stop fighting. When he hesitated he he'd lost battle, and he couldn't help himself the siren's call. _Have to thought-blink now... Not He was too weak, exhausted, his mental resistance low. Finally he had no choice but through the psych program he remembered his The let presence known, "We that dreams can be metaphors of our fears, if you will." heard the siren's song in her voice and was enslaved "You out your fears your dreams—a catharsis—nothing more." she on he sensed a was and version reality more real. He discovered thought-blinking was working once again, he mentally separated the question stuck. "Harry? What is your value to You said you felt worthless. Do you "My job," he mumbled. "Yes, if we may go there." "Sure." With thought Harry a pang of guilt that he should be a better job to Makr control his fellow man. He wasn't alone in task there were to share the others who do
 gently. "Wait," it ordered softly And seemed tO fade AwaY.

He KnEw thE ethEreal whisper coULd noT come from the program. MakR? No, MaKr DIdn't TRy To assEss the hUMaN POetIc HeArt NoT EvEn thrOugH one of tHe therapeuTic PrOgrams. What doES MAkr know of tHe hUman heart othEr tHan its BiOloGY? But HArrY did kNow thaT Voice. HE had heard It AS a chilD. it made hIM FeEl waRm, secure and strangELy PEaceful.

He knew tHat notHiNG tHAT feEls This good laStS and hE Fought bACk WITH as MUch reasonable Stimulation TO thOught-bLiNk tHE experIence AwAY, toO. The thought That makr could Be maniPUlating AUthentiC memorIes FroM his SUbCoNscIoUS maDE hIm nERvoUs. The omnIsCiEnt, alL-powERFUL CybEr gOd knEw morE about Harry thAn HArry HImsElf coUld reMembEr—ConscIously Or un-cOnSciously!

"I can't teLl yoU everythiNg..." HE fOugHt makr's FAux reaLitY anD paused In mid-thOUghT, aTTEMpTing to block his mind FrOM BeIng read. IT could HAvE bEEn his own PrObiNg thAT Gave hIm a hEAdAche. WhatEver it WAs MaDe him stOp FightiNg. wheN he HesitATed hE knew hE'd lost thE battLE, and he couldn't hELp himself answER tHE SiREn's cAll.

_have to thougHt-blINk noW... Not HApPenINg..._ He wAs too WeAK, eXHausted, his mental resIsTance lOw. FinAlly he had no chOice but to dRIFT through The pSYcH Program until he RememBered his drEAms...

The thErapiSt let her Presence bE KNown, "We knOw tHat DreAms CAN bE metaphors of oUR FearS, iF you wilL." He Heard thE siRen'S soNg iN hEr voice anD was enslAvEd OnCe MorE. "You wORk out youR fEarS iN yoUr dreAMs—a catHarsiS—notHiNg MOre."

as she drONeD ON he sEnSeD a heAvy ClOud waS lifTIng, And with It, his versIon OF reaLiTy Seemed mOre real. He discOvEred his thoUgHt-bLinkinG WAs workinG once again, and he mentally SEparateD thE real And tHe unreal. HEr qUestioN stUCk.

"HarrY? What iS your VaLue TO OtherS? yOu SaiD yOu felt wortHLEss. do you StIll?"

"MY job," he mUmbled.

"Yes, if we may go THerE."

"Sure."

With that ThoUght hARrY imMEdIAteLy FElt A PAng of guilt that hE should be dOiNG a Better job tO HelP MAkr contRol his fEllow MAn. He wasN't alone in That task tHoUgh; tHERe wEre others tO share thE blame, othERs who DO
 gently. "Wait," it ordere d softly a nd se eme d t ofade  awa y.

He knew th e  eth ereal whisper could no t com ef romt he  prog ram. Ma k r? N o,Ma kr  di dn ' ttry t o a ssess t he human p oet ic  heart not e v en  through o neof the thera peu tic pr og ram s . Wha t d oes M akr kn o w of t he humanhe a rt oth e r thani t sbiol ogy? But Harry di d  k n ow that voice.  He ha dh ea r d  it  as  a child.It  made him fee l  w a r m , s e cure and stra ngely peace f ul. 

He k ne w t h at not hingth a t f eels this g oodlasts and  he fo u ght bac k  with a s much  re aso nabl e  s ti mul at i ont otho u ght -blink t he  e xperi ence a w a y, t oo.  The  thou ght that Makr  co uldb e m anipu latin g au th entic  memor ies f ro m his subconsci ousmade himner vo us.  T he om n iscien t,all -powerf ul Cybe r  go dk n e wmore about Harry t ha n Ha rry hims elf co u ld  r e member—c on sci ousl y or un -con s ci ously!
"I can ' tte ll youev erythi ng ... " H e fou g ht M akr'sfaux rea litya nd paused in m i d-thought, at t em p t in g  toblo ck his mind  fro m  bei ng r e ad . I t  coul d hav eb ee n  his own probing th at  gavehim a  headache. Wh atever itw a s  made hi m st o pf ighting. Whenhe he sitated he knew he' d los t the ba ttle, and h e couldn 'thel p h ims e l fanswer the si r e n'sca ll.

_H ave  to tho ugh t-b lin k n ow ... Not h appening .. ._  H ewas  toow eak, exh au ste d,  hi s men t al res istan ce l ow .F ina lly heh ad n o ch oi ce  but  to  d riftthro u ghthe psy ch progra m u n tilhe  r emember ed his dreams .. .

The the ra pis t leth e r presen ce be known, "We know t h at drea mscan b e me taphors o f o ur fea rs, if you  will. " Hehe ard t he si r e n' s s on g in her v o i ceand w as  ens laved o nce more. "You wor k  ou t your fearsinyour d re ams — ac ath ar s is— n o thing more."

A s she dron ed on  he sensed a h ea vy clou d was l iftin g , and w ith it, h is versio nof r e a lit y seemed m ore real . He disc o vered hi s tho ugh t-blin ki ngwas w orking onc e aga in, an dhe men tally  s eparated  the real and the unrea l. Her  ques tio n stuck.
"H a rry ? What is  you r value to  ot her s? Yo u s a id yo u fe l twor t hless . Do you still ? "
"M y jo b," he mumb l e d .
"Yes,  if we may  gothere."

"Sure."With that thou ghtH a rry  im m edia te ly felt a pang  of  g u i lt thathe  should bedoing abe t ter j ob tohelp M akr con t r ol his fe llow  ma n. He was n't  a l one inth at task t houg h;  there  wereo ther s to share the bla me, o t h ers w h o d o
 gently._"Wait," it_ordered softly and seemed_to fade_away.

He_knew the_ethereal_whisper could not_come from the_program. Makr? No, Makr_didn't try to_assess_the human poetic heart not even through one of the therapeutic programs. What does_Makr_know of_the_human_heart other than its biology?_But Harry did know that_voice. He_had heard it as a child. It made_him_feel warm, secure_and strangely peaceful.

He knew that nothing that feels this_good lasts and he fought back_with as much_reasonable_stimulation_to thought-blink the experience_away, too. The thought that Makr_could be manipulating authentic memories from_his subconscious made him nervous. The omniscient,_all-powerful Cyber god knew more about_Harry than Harry himself could_remember—consciously or_un-consciously!

"I can't tell you everything..."_He fought Makr's_faux reality_and paused in_mid-thought, attempting to block his mind_from being read._It could have been his own_probing_that gave him_a_headache._Whatever it_was made him_stop_fighting. When_he_hesitated he knew he'd lost the_battle,_and he couldn't help himself answer the_siren's call.

_Have to thought-blink_now..._Not happening..._ He was_too weak, exhausted, his mental_resistance low. Finally he had no_choice but_to drift_through the psych program until he remembered his dreams...

The therapist let_her presence be known, "We know_that dreams can be_metaphors of_our_fears, if you_will."_He heard_the siren's song in her voice and_was enslaved_once more. "You work out your_fears in your dreams—a_catharsis—nothing_more."

As she droned on he sensed_a heavy cloud was lifting, and_with it, his version of_reality_seemed_more real. He discovered his_thought-blinking was working once again, and_he mentally separated_the real and the unreal. Her question_stuck.

"Harry?_What is your value to others?_You_said you felt worthless. Do you_still?"

"My_job,"_he mumbled.

"Yes, if we may_go there."

"Sure."

With that thought Harry immediately_felt a pang of guilt that he should be_doing a better_job to help Makr control_his_fellow_man. He wasn't alone in that task though; there were_others to_share the blame,_others who do