Without warning the goggles captured the nightwing ascent. The moon spun disconcertingly. Tasìa paused the data channel with a violent shake of her head, and switched Mel's feed back over to the Personal Assistant.

"Sorry, I caused that," Demona apologized. "I was curious about the nightwing's survey, so I read into its feed. Apparently, I caused it to spill its output over our shared space."

Tasìa rubbed her eyes.

"I doubt if there will be permanent damage from that but right now it feels as if it lacerated down into my brain.

"Nightwing halconeros -," she wasn't sure if Demona was familiar with the term so she elaborated, "- those that see through the eyes of the nightwings - I don't know how they ever get use to that viewpoint. It's down right alien."

Tasìa nodded. She saw on the PA that Mel was maintaining a holding pattern.

"Okay, now let us try this again. Fly over the athenaeum, until you get to the ribbed juncture."

Tasìa turned her head back towards Demona.

"Nice," Tasìa exclaimed. "An open air shelter rises just above the ribbed vault. It's wide enough that I can slip beneath its canopy to get inside of there."

Demona pointed to the entrance way.

"Whether you are approaching from the entrance or from the roof, they will know and see you coming."

Tasìa acknowledged Demona's concerns with a vacuous grin and nod.

"I'm going up. It's going to be cool seeing you scale the wall in those pumps."

"Not even listening ..."

Tasìa showed off with a somersault and a leap onto the side of the wall. Within seconds she had scaled the wall, lifted herself over it, and plopped her butt across the gable.

"Damn," she assessed the chic dressed spook as Demona's virtual image simulated the climb and made it appear to be a painful and a most non-spider-monkey endeavor.

The spook could have just as easily floated up while she held onto an umbrella, like Mary Poppins, Tasìa assumed.

When Demona reached the gable and sat beside her, she breathed in and out, heavily. Her knuckles displayed the white of stressed appendages.

"I enjoyed watching that," Tasìa exclaimed, "but you are laying it on a little thick."

Demona chortled between a lovely set of lips that smiled.

"I have it set to be as physiologically accurate to my pre-lobbed condition as possible, else my brain risks being confused and overstimulated. I was the furthest thing from an athlete while embodied."

Tasìa chortled as a pleasant rumble along the gable surface tickled her bum. It then made a sonic disturbance.

"I never considered - hey, do you hear that?"

They both turned to the small open air tower over the athenaeum central vault that sat atop it like a belfry.

"Yes, I do." Demona answered.

Tasìa froze up the moment that she could make sense of it, and realized that it was a choral. She recognized the vibrant timbre of the voices that she had encountered when she escaped the IMCQ.

"Ah, shit. They have Manifested in there. Not just any Manifested but those are the voices of the Disappeared. The ones that induce suicidal insanity in the doctors, nurses, and staff that treat them.

"Hear that lull in their voices. It gets inside of you."

Demona's heart-shaped face tended to squinch up when something concerned her. Now, it did so with an expression that would have appeared as an affectation if committed by any other mortal besides Demona.

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"I, of course monitor nearly all Quadra traffic. I knew something was occurring hours before the IMCQ got bit by the mushroom cloud when I read an exchange of encrypted cables that went in and out from IMCQ Control and Brussels HQ.

"They were in a panic at the IMCQ. The Manifested had dissipated and disappeared.

"Then, soon after, poof. The explosion of a small, tactical nuke, or so they believe but I have my doubts. So long and thanks for all the fish, as they say."

"What?"

A tiny smile appeared on Demona's face.

"Nothing. I do a lot of reading for my own simple pleasure now that I am discorporate. That was the dolphin's last message to mankind before catching a ride out."

Tasìa nodded along. She didn't know the reference but she thought she got the gist. Demona believed the Manifest transfer set off the Muskovite.

While she listened to Demona she also gave Mel a set of orders to swoop down and peek into the open air vault.

It would have to wait. Mel was currently adrift off of his course by a few miles down the highway. Something there had peaked his curiosity. She put her order on his second tier status commands until he returned.

Meanwhile, Tasìa turned her attention back to Demona with a scrutinizing eye:

Discorporate

While

Finding things to preoccupy her time between machinations.

It must be a very lonely existence.

She wondered how often the spy spoke to her husband in recent weeks.

None at all, she realized. Tasìa had played the part of Demona's emissary to Leòn just over a week beforehand.

Tasìa started to weigh the pros and cons of whether or not she should pry into that matter with Demona, but before she made a decision, the spook became excited.

"What?" Tasìa asked.

"I just realized. This structure is intended to be a more or less permanent one. That is a very rare occurrence for them."

Tasìa shrugged.

"And that means what, exactly?"

Her day had already been a very long one. Fatigue was catching up with her, and arguments needed to be spelled out.

She reached into her fanny pack for the last bottle of Ki-Jack Ginseng, All Natural Alertness Elixir.

"Usually, when the Manifest creates these objects, they are temporary structures, typically created for the purpose of mindfucking a target. Once that objective is completed, the objects then dissipate back into the dust and pollen that swirl about the air.

"However, if this Palace of Lies replica is housing the Manifest, then it was created for a more sustained purpose."

Tasìa rose up to stand on the gable support so she could peak down the highway.

She spoke while she vigorously shook her head.

"It is kind of odd that no traffic has come through here since we tangled with Bajamutté's reinforcements earlier. This side of the river bay and port, eighteen wheelers come through at all times, night and day."

Demona nodded.

"Tasìa, I think I know what has caught the nightwing's curiosity. Close your eyes for a few seconds if you will please humor me. Let me take a look at the nightwing's raw visual feed."

Tasìa complied.

After several seconds elapsed, Demona continued. "Go ahead, and reopen your eyes. I've asked the bird to keep its visuals steady. Do you see right there?"

"Uh-huh."

"The Manifest is taking advantage of the crystalizing effect that the resonance has on the fungi. Its creating an alternative roadway that loops miles away from the structure, and it also blockades and obscures the actual highway."

Demona disengaged with Mel's feed. Tasìa didn't wait for the crow to comply. She changed her own set of instructions back to the status of a primary task.

Once in hover back over the Palace of Lies, Mel swooped down into the vaulted tower.

Inside the interior of the athenaeum replica, hundreds of Manifested women stood nude in rows. Their figures, elongated and thin, swayed with wondrous resolve in the rhythm and time signature of the cantata they sung.

From somewhere unresolved to her senses a flute d'amour played an accompanying part above the choral assembly.

A notion came to Tasìa in the shape of three words.

The Ecstacy Chorus.

Tasìa had no idea how that thought got into her head. Did El Greco ever give a painting that name?

These lovely ones were not the only ones present, however. On a stadium above where they crowded together, three dozen women sung the bass counter part while dressed in sheer black silk. There figures were not elongated but appeared set like marble.

Their movement did not comport with the natural flow of muscular movement, but like claymation, from one impressively sculpted figure in pose to another.

Yet, as solidly fixed as their bodies were, she could not get a read on their faces. All vagueness. To focus on one face, you momentarily felt you could identify the person, but then you felt ...wrong.

She looked at one of the Disappeared after another. Then, she saw a face amongst the Disappeared that made Tasìa's heart sink.

Lydia Estrella. Her sweet-natured, white collar criminal, Columbian friend.

As soon as Tasìa attempted to focus on her friend's face, it no longer appeared to be her Lydia who stood there as she sung.

Her own head felt distempered. Tasìa committed herself to breathing exercises for a solid minute to calm her heart and get her mind back in order.

But she felt anxious, and she needed to step up the pace of her assault.

"Annebél is in there, she is in danger," Tasìa muttered as she stood up to rush towards the vaulted tower.

A force of air tumbled at her. Tasìa halted to a stop to regain her footing.

In front of her stood a short but muscular and stocky figure with skin whose tone was midnight blue. It was Bajamutté in all of his naked glory.

His voice was slow and calm, as it gave threat.

"Tasìa, I am afraid I can't let you do that."