Albia, version 6.

"Chris!"

Chris looked up, hearing the Hand shouting his name. He had been trying to work through an equation, but failing miserably, not being able to concentrate and not admitting to himself why he was so distracted. "Oh my God, Chris it’s terrible. Something awful has happened, and it’s all my fault…" The Hand swooped down gracefully straight through the ceiling, and hovered at about waist height. Instead of coming to a standstill as usual though, it thrashed backwards and forwards across the room, sometimes passing straight out through the walls before returning. Even though Chris normally found the Hand’s emotions hard to read, even he could tell it was exceedingly distraught. Annie could always tell It’s mood, but no other norn could. He’d not even really believed Annie when she said that the Hand had feelings too. It seemed that Annie was right, after all. He stood up hastily.

"What’s happened?" he exclaimed.

"It’s Annie!" Chris went cold inside- no, not that, please.

"What’s happened to her?" He said, trying to hide his distress with a thin veneer of calm. Norns aren’t bothered about the welfare of others, he told himself firmly. Only sick mutants like him. His secret must stay that way. "I didn’t know it would happen." the Hand was talking quietly now, almost to itself. "She reverted to a Prehistoric type. I can only describe it by saying she has lost her mind." It sounded low and hopeless, and hung near the floor, but Chris hardly heard the end of the sentence, for the roaring in his ears. Despair and grief warred with fear and anger for supremacy. Forcing his voice to remain calm, he said:

"It’s…Can you…Will she recover?" he finally asked, blinking to keep the tears from his eyes, and cursing his stuttering sentences for giving away his emotional turmoil.

"I think so. It’ll take time, but she should gain back her full intellect. Her memory, though is lost, forever." The Hand floated closer to Chris, almost touching. "I’m afraid she won’t remember you at all."

"I’ve.." Chris spluttered, "I’ve got to go!" he cried, and ran before the Hand could see his tears. As he ran, he sobbed out loud for Annie, and also for himself, for now his secret was out, his life was surely near its end.

Beyond the meadow, outside NornTown, there is a wild area of forest and tangled lianas, riddled with secret walkways and lifts. The bottom layers of the forest were often visited, and the leaves the trees dropped made good bedding material. Higher though, where few norns ventured, except by accident, heart rending cries could be heard, coming from a decrepit looking tree house. Chris was sat on the floor, his head resting against the wood of the building, staring into space. He felt unable to stop crying, and unable to start, trapped in a never ending present, since the future was unbearable, and the past, unthinkable. He got up and paced, fur thoroughly soaked with tears, and his lips drawn back in a rictus of pain as he whimpered nonsense and grief stricken syllables. His throat was hoarse from screaming, but he hardly noticed as more sobs wracked his body. Crying did not help; did not bring any ease to his heart, but tore him apart more with each sob.

Slowly the sobs subsided, and he was left staring fixedly at the wall. Despair spread its grey, suffocating blanket over him. His life was over. Forfeit. The Hand must know now what a sick norn he was, after hiding it all his life. He didn’t deserve to live- he never had. He’d heard the whispers of euthanasia, and knew this was all he was good for. A new calm came over him. Nothing more could be done to him now. No more acting. He would die as what he truly was; no more lies. Then he remembered Annie again.

"No, no, no, no, no!" He screeched, his by now husky voice echoing out into the silent forest. He could stand it, everything- if she was with him, but she was not there anymore. Even if she recovered, she would never know him. To him, she was dead, and worse than dead, because she was still there. A norn who had lost its soul… and he would be the only one who cared. In sudden rage, he smashed his hand into the side of the house. Pain flooded his body, but he repeated the action, over and over again. In an orgy of self hate, he hit and hit and hit- until his knuckles were bleeding and bruised. Still he continued, leaving bloodstains that quickly disappeared when he moved his hand. Pain was all he wanted, all he deserved, all he could understand right now. Maybe if he hit enough, he would pass out, and not have to stand the pain for a short while.

The Hand hovered just out of site. Bewildered and worried, It had followed him here. Now he was injuring himself, and the Hand could not allow that. It took swift action.

Chris suddenly felt very tired, and was asleep before he hit the wooden floor.

Chris awoke slowly, with a vague feeling that something was terribly wrong, somehow- and then the memory flooded back.

"Annie!" he wailed, tears coming afresh to his sore eyes. He picked his bruised body gingerly off the floor, cursing as his abused hands twinged with pain. He looked up- and found himself staring straight at the Hand. The shock made him stop crying.

"She was my daughter." The Hand said distantly. It seemed to be talking more to itself than to him.

"Your daughter?" Chris asked dully, too tired to be surprised by anything anymore.

"She did not have parents. There is such a thing as a test tube norn, I know you all have wondered about that. She was one. I brought her up myself. Hands have maternal instinct too. Her real parents were Francesca and Stephen." Chris remembered those two norns. Francesca was a towering intellect, frighteningly bright. Stephen was, well, not, but he did have an unrivalled ability to get himself into trouble. They had never been able to stand one other. The intelligent, and the curious- and their daughter was Annie. It made sense.

"So you see, she was special to me. If I had known how Prehistoric Albia would affect her, I would never have sent her there." Suddenly breaking off from its musing, it seemed to notice Chris again. It swooped low and tickled his head.

"Tell me what’s wrong, Chris. I’ve never seen a norn act so upset before." The Hand had been astonished at the reaction of Chris on hearing the bad news. Never had It seen so many of a norn’s drives all shoot to maximum at once.

Chris went cold all over. For a moment there, just a moment, he had thought he was safe. He realised that now the nightmare he had always had was reality: the Hand knew.

"It’s…" he started, his throat tight, but the mere act of speaking seemed to break down a barrier inside. Suddenly he felt so old and weary; no more secrets. Death was better than living a lie any longer.

"It’s just me. I’m not normal. I never have been normal- just a sick, mutant, norn. I… never fitted in as a child. When one of my friends fell over and hurt themselves, I wanted to do something to help- I couldn’t bare to see them in pain. All the other children would look at me so oddly if I tried to help- as if I was mad. I soon realised that I would have to hide- to pretend to be normal. It never was more than an act.

"Then, one day I met Annie." in spite of himself, he smiled distantly at the memory. "She was in the herb garden, collecting parsley. When I saw her.. I don’t know how to describe it… I knew she was going to be important. She was different to any other norn. After I met her, I didn’t want to look at another female. It’s sick I know, but I wanted to spend my life with her- never leave her, stay with her always. And now," he gulped, tears started to run unheeded down his cheeks, and he was unable to finish the sentence. The Hand hadn’t moved, or shown any kind of reaction, not that it was easy for Chris to tell anyway.

"I knew, Chris." he looked up at the Hand.

"Knew what?" he asked.

"I knew you were a mutant, from birth. I studied your genome. There was an odd mutation in one of the genes controlling your brain. I thought nothing had come of it. You’ve hidden this from me very well."

"Well, it has." Chris looked at the Hand, sudden anger in his eyes. "I may be a mutant, but I don’t deserve to be killed!" The Hand moved back a pace or two.

"Killed? I don’t understand."

"I remember Mark, the norn who slapped everyone else, and talked rubbish. We all called him a mutant. And one day, he just disappeared. I heard the rumours of euthanasia."

"What? Of all the… I never kill norns! I took Mark away- he was a danger to the other norns around him. He lived his life on one of the islands of the ocean archipelago. He died of old age, eventually, I promise! One moment- I think I understand something now- did you think I would kill you if I found out you were a mutant?"

"Well, aren’t you?"

"No!" the Hand sounded more than a little angry. As Chris flinched back, It added, "I’m sorry. I lost my temper there. Chris, there is no way I would ever kill a norn for being different, especially you."

"Especially me?" Chris asked, unemotionally. This whole conversation seemed to have taken an unreal turn- it all seemed to be happening in a dream. The nightmare scenario- of the Hand finding out about him and confronting him, had turned out not to be a nightmare, and he was not sure he could cope. "Would I kill the first norn, ever, who truly thought like a Hand?" It heard Chris gasp in surprise, but continued. "We have a name for the emotions you describe, Chris. Compassion, and love. We Hands consider these to be the noblest emotions we can feel. Chris, I’m proud of you- you are the most highly advanced norn in Albia."

"I’m what?" said Chris blankly.

"I think you are the first of a new kind of norn- a special kind of norn. Maybe the first of a new generation of norn- the Version Seven norn. Don’t worry any more. Live your life as you see fit, with my blessing, Chris." with this final, astonishing, sentence, the Hand sank beneath the floor of the treehouse.

As the Hand disappeared, Annie was revealed behind where It had last been. Her hair was shorter, and she had lost the red tinge to her fur, but she was still unmistakably the norn he… loved?

"Annie?" Chris called out gently.

She looked up, her bright eyes blank and innocent. Suddenly, a smile spread across her face. Had there been a glimmer of recognition there? Chris thought so, or, at least, hoped so. He kissed the top of her head tenderly, and took hold of her hand.

"Annie come." He said, and they walked off into the forest.

And so it began…

Author's Note: As you can see, this story has been left pretty open ended. In real life, the stories' never over...

Anyway, if anyone wants to write a sequel, I'd be fascinated to see what you come up with! Please please please email me a copy if you do : lis_morris@msn.com thanx!