GNE

This is the story of 'GNE' in the Xanadu setting. See Xanadu (setting) for details of the universe as a whole. By Dreamer

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This story uses "Commonwealth" spelling, so extra "u's" may show up in some words and not be an error

GNE (or is it genie?) - Edited 14/Aug/10

Incept

No one rubbed a magic lamp, or a magic ring, there was no puff of smoke, but, suddenly...

GNE blinked. Something was very wrong. Reflexively she flicked on a thousand-fold temporal acceleration, and actualised a second, immaterial, self within it, knowing that self would do the same thing in turn. Thinking a million times faster than anyone else would almost certainly give her time to work out what was happening.

Feeling much safer with the feedback from her thousand and million-speed selves, she looked around. There was the fading glow from an immense magical flux, and she was in a large room, with many strangely dressed people and creatures. Yes, her power reserves were full, but, her sensor logs were empty, as if she hadn't been here only moments ago.

Several seconds on, she could see waves of panic spread across the room. Momentarily she checked her appearance, in a nearby wall mirror. Apparently human female, young adult, shoulder-length red hair, make-up free cream skin, green eyes, and her normal sleeve-less green dress, pink hair ribbon and flat shoes. She couldn't see how her look would cause alarm.

She felt a shunt from her thousand-self as she stepped to one side, and someone in a tight red costume, with a yellow lightning bolt on the chest, blurred through where she had been standing, then stopped and looked a bit confused. This room was interesting but a little 'busy', so she carefully walked out.

...

In what appeared to be a hotel corridor, outside a conference room labelled 'Masquerade', she paused to consider. There was no evidence that she had been here until very recently, and, she had no evidence that she had been suddenly transported from somewhere else. Or that she'd been tampered with. She knew who she was, what she could do, but it was quite unclear why she was here. She smiled as she considered this was slightly existential.

Even with her million-self working nearly flat-out on the problem it was going to take time to do a thorough analysis of her surroundings. Also, she had to think carefully about what probing was wise and safe in an unknown place, and what rights to privacy those around her had. So far she had been pretty passive, avoiding anything she thought might be considered offensive.

The magic seemed to be some sort of transformation effect, keyed to the clothes people had been wearing, and their beliefs about them. Someone had been holding a Masquerade and the magical pulse had made real the masks or costumes people had been wearing. This didn't account for her presence, but there was a faint and fading magical trail, leading from her, deeper into the hotel.

...

Hopefully imperceptible, or at least thinking a thousand times faster than a human, GNE looked at the man who appeared to be named "Owen Johnson". Lying on his bed in the hotel room, reading a paperback novel. A printed and written-on set of notes, on the desk, which appeared to describe some sort of role-playing character, named "Ace Dreamer". A deep hooded cloak neatly hung on the back of the door, which matched the drawing on the character sheet, and he was in the rest of the costume, bar the leather boots.

Off to one side on the desk was a second set of notes, that seemed to be being cannibalised to fill-in details on some sort of companion or side-kick for Ace Dreamer. There was a lot of crossing-out, mostly on details from some sort of fantasy setting, and hand writing on the first set of notes that said "techno genie!", "no lamp or ring" (double underlined), "recycle GNE!". Such a tenuous reason for existing, mused GNE.

Now, the question was, what responsibility did she have to someone who hadn't even finished writing her, and, what responsibility did she have to this world?

Inspection

GNE looked at her creator, Owen Johnson, and resisted the strong urge to actively scan him. Or, even meddle in some way, so he didn't interfere with what she might do. While that should tell her how he had been changed by the Event she didn't want to take the risk of alerting him. If he knew she was here, or even existed, he might start giving her instructions, or even orders. Just a little late to find out whether she'd have to obey. Trying to prevent him from giving her orders in future was also risky – she suspected it all depended on what he thought his relationship was to her, his 'side-kick'.

Currently moving and thinking a thousand-times human speed, it had been less than ten human-scale seconds since the Event, but more than two hours for her to think things through. She could tell Owen was distracted by something, listening. Even though this hotel-area was attached to, rather than built around the conference centre, as it would likely be in a European city, some sounds of disturbance would reach here soon. She dropped a minute immaterial 'bug' into the floor, to track and listen to Owen – direct observation wasn't a risk she thought she should take.

Reluctantly, GNE left his room, staying immaterial so little details like a closed door didn't interfere, and took on a physical form again in the corridor. While tricks like invisibility might be tempting there seemed a greater risk of setting off alarms, marking her as dangerous, as she had already picked-up sophisticated scanning passing over her more than once. Appearing to be a normal human woman unless she was directly threatened seemed best. She could only hope that the immaterial extensions that made up the greater part of her were not something most people would spot. Magic or sufficiently advanced technology, she just couldn't be sure what might be used.

“What was that?”, she heard him murmur, and her heart leapt into her throat. After a painful delay, not helped by her temporal acceleration, he continued, “An earthquake? A power brown-out?”, and she realised he was only now starting to react to the Event. Her panic subsided. “Oh no. I've missed the awards ceremony for the Masquerade. I guess there is no point keeping this costume on, now”. She heard him start to get changed, and suspected he was returning to his book.

“At least he's not going to go looking for trouble”, she thought.

...

The real risk was chaos, she decided. A convention centre was a complex thing, an organisation, depending on technology, but most of all, the people whose efforts made it continue to work. A few minutes later she was walking away from the staff areas, thinking about what the Event might have done to people dressed as 'hotel staff'. They seemed mostly unchanged, so people would likely not notice, but they had been strengthened in their roles, and the management, in particular, impressed her.

Surprisingly, no further mental tampering seemed required, but she'd set herself to note when new staff arrived, as they'd likely be called in for the emergency. A bit of careful strengthening of them shouldn't do any harm, and would hopefully escape most people's notice. The staff affected by the Event would make a useful template. As long as she altered only skills, and not basic motivations, then their longer term life-choices shouldn't be too much affected.

...

The police and other authorities would be arriving soon, and it seemed likely there would have been some injuries. While she was still analysing the Event, and the whole situation had all sorts of dangers, she had to be true to her nature and try and help-out.

This didn't seem something that was just going to fade away. The risks of getting involved and helping out-weighed the risks of revealing too much about herself and her capabilities. There were going to be a lot of scared people around. A little carefully targeted help (and, she admitted to herself, the fun of some small-scale meddling) could make a big difference.

“Hi! Can I help out? I've had some paramedic training”, and GNE found herself mixed-up in the thick of it.

Infection

Several hours later GNE felt she was getting a handle on things. She had volunteered to help in various places, and arranged that some of the injuries that people had weren't as bad as they might first have looked. The Event seemed to have done a wide range of things, but for quite a few their injuries not being part of their changed selves seemed to cause them to recover quite rapidly.

While people becoming non-human was what was most obvious, what worried her were those who had open-ended abilities, like magicians and 'mad scientists'. Some people seemed to have the ability to 'infect' others with further changes.

Lycanthropy, and the risk of making more were wolves (or were foxes, were bears, were tigers...) was a definite worry. She had seen several vampires, and people being drained to death, becoming vampiric servants, or more vampires, was also a concern. And, those were just the risks she'd easily recognised.

Mind control, maybe to the extent of permanent personality changes, was something else that concerned her. Though, she was almost certainly immune, as she could reform her physical body as required, and she didn't keep all of her mind in her physical head, never mind using other defences.

There was always uncertainty about the limits of magic, though...

She'd had to be very polite to a number of generous offers to 'improve' her.

“No, I'm sorry, I don't think becoming furry would be a great improvement on my 'naked monkey skin'. Yes, it does seem to work quite well for you. But, I'd hope you appreciate that people do vary.”

She also suspected there of being at least one person changed so that they could alter reality at quite a fundamental level (almost the power of a god or goddess?), and people equipped with magical and technological artefacts of immense power. But, so far she couldn't pin-down exactly who or what they all might be.

She'd tried asking the direct question, “Are you a god?”. Unfortunately, this seemed to net her puzzled looks, lectures on blasphemy, or the answer “Yes”. Invariably accompanied by a wide grin, or, maybe, “Yes, Egon”. After the third time this happened someone was kind enough to explain the reference to the film “Ghostbusters”.

She suspected some of having left very early on, though, it was always possible that some were hidden from even her senses. The mysterious humanoid white rabbit that seemed to be attracting many people's attention was a bit of a puzzle. That her passive scan picked up signs of far over-head space ships was worrying; who knows what capabilities they might have? She'd really like to go and investigate them.

Asking around, while helping out, it appeared that some rich fans had brought full-sized models of small spacecraft to the con. It also appeared as though having access to a spacecraft was a fundamental part of the way some people saw the characters they had become. She was also suspicious about what might have happened to some of the model spaceships in the Dealers Room.

Some people who had become super heroes seemed to be trying to help out, and some of the larger groups of things like 'Star Wars' Jedi Knights, and Imperial Stormtroopers, were cooperating in trying to keep some order. The biggest transformee she had spotted was a dragon, though she was sure there were a lot of sights she had missed, and, some people seemed to be still changing, growing...

A con badge labelling her as “GNE, a helpful genie?” had been added to her appearance, and after some thought about consequences, she now had a modest single room, and appropriately altered hotel records, for “Jean Greene”, including the record on their off-site backups.

So far she had resisted the temptation to create a bureaucratic and financial back trail for herself – if it was revealed that she'd done that, later, it would set off all sorts of alarm bells. There was certainly the possibility of blaming the Event for any inconsistencies.

Ritual

The changes caused by the Event seemed... powerful. While this soothed GNE's fears of suddenly popping, like a soap bubble, it meant that she couldn't just 'fix' people's problems; the changes were just too resistant. The causes of the Event still seemed unclear. But, at her best guess, for hundreds of years, maybe a thousand, there were signs that most of the flow of magic through this world had been blocked, as if by a dam.

That Raven mask, the image of a trickster, and maybe creator, god, a rule-breaker, had punched a hole in that dam, and hundreds of years of magic, some fraction of a whole world's worth, had flooded out at once. Only an analogy, but it seemed to match a lot of what had happened.

While she hadn't dared approach the raven, that the man (whose name she was careful to avoid even thinking) wearing the Raven mask had turned into, there seemed a lot less risk in asking others the natural question, “What do you think happened?”.

The consensus of opinion seemed to be “Magic”. Those who had been at the awards ceremony said that the Raven mask was obviously the source, which matched her own experience, except that she had appeared after the mask was no longer there, and was presumably part of the raven. If any ritual or sacrifice had been carried out, no one she spoke to seemed to know about it. Maybe the competition, to become 'other', was itself some sort of ritual?

GNE privately speculated that the mask may have been influencing its owner for some time, but without doing something potentially deadly, like deep scanning the raven (or, she wondered, some thorough detective work?) she couldn't see how to get any clear answers. She wondered if anyone had become a master detective, and whether they might turn their talents to discovering the truth? But, that was not the sort of person she wanted to take an interest in her, even at second-hand.

A cautious approach to various magicians and scientists wasn't much more helpful.

The scientists who used physics as she understood it talked about 'magic' with some distaste, or fascination. They didn't seem to have any useful explanations. The 'mad scientists' seemed to make things up as they were going along, using ideas from fiction, and treating science as some sort of ritual with technical props. Their gadgets seemed worryingly effective, and GNE was pretty sure magic was dancing behind the scenes, re-writing local reality to suit their beliefs.

Magicians were diverse and strange, and sometimes she had to tempt them by saying she could do a few things that looked like magic, to even get them to acknowledge her existence. They mostly worked with analogies, treating these as if they were real explanations of events. Some were wiser, and confessed that this was magic on a scale well beyond their understanding, speculating on the interference of cosmic forces, or the return of ancient gods.

The most sensible wizard seemed a professor of mathematics, with an interest in mythology. He pointed out that legends described all sorts of magic, but, more recent history less and less. “Where are the native magicians?”, he asked, “Where are the magical creatures?”.

GNE realised that the only answer seemed to be careful experimentation. The potential risks seemed almost impossible to quantify. But, no one else, as far as she could tell, seemed able or willing to take them, so...

Resolution

GNE couldn't see how to resolve this. The magic of the Event seemed to have caused such a wide range of changes, and in some cases people were still changing. Some seemed quite happy with their change, but GNE was sure that, at least in some cases, people's minds had been twisted as much as their bodies. Or even instead. It was quite difficult to distinguish those who'd their heart's desire granted, those who were on some level screaming inside, and those where the original person no longer existed.

The obvious answer was to do some sort of deep scanning, and see if the original still existed on some level. Even if that failed, there was the more drastic step of looking back through time, to see how the person used to be, and take a copy of their memories. While this was likely less risky than physical time travel, GNE really didn't like the idea of tampering with Time in a world where she didn't understand the consequences.

Even if people could be restored, the magic of the Event seemed like Trickster God work. The consequences of tampering with that were rarely pleasant for anyone involved. GNE also couldn't tell whether this was a world where people had a fate or destiny, and, if it was their fate to get involved in the Event, or something required to reach their destiny, interference could be a really bad idea.

Finally, there were major ethical issues. Assuming people were re-set to their pre-Event selves then they would loose all and any experiences that they had gained. While unpleasant, some of the learning and experiences might be very important to those people. There were various possible fudges, like making the transformed memories dream-like, or adding some sort of traumatic stress treatment, but... Where were people's choices? Which self got to make the choice, using what experiences? An ethical thicket.

...

GNE was sure that if she approached the problem properly then she should be able to give people their original minds and bodies. But, unless she really understood what she was doing, there was the problem of what happened to the freed magical energy that caused and maintained that change.

Though it scared her to think about it, she was a creature of magic, without even a previous human form to fall-back on. That magic was impersonating the reality-bending technology that was how, or so her memories told her, she was supposed to function. A magical backlash could erase her from existence.

An obvious project, at least to her, was to probe the limits of the local physics. She could only hope that there was something at a fundamental level, maybe down towards the Planck length, far below the scale of atoms, that she could use to re-implement herself, technologically, in a way that scared her a lot less than magic.

In theory she understood the technology behind her existence. But, that was knowledge gained from her magical creation, and she had to find out how that matched the reality of the world in which she now existed.

This seemed likely a big, long-term, project, as she'd have to build tools, then ensure their operation and measurements weren't being contaminated by magic. Months? Years? Decades? Tampering with the flow of time so as to speed things up didn't look sensible – she would be just measuring a magically altered world. Still, there were a few quick-and-dirty tests she could do...

Revolution

GNE sat-down for the evening meal, and realised what she lacked, more than anything else, was information. Her creator, Owen's, design for her was half-finished, so she had no personal memories, just knowledge of her capabilities, and how they worked. A few social reflexes, with no memory of learning them. This world was something she was having to work out on-the-fly, and, luckily, so far, she made no obviously terrible mistakes.

Obviously she had a command of the local language, English, which included a few hints of other languages. That seemed to have been made her native tongue, though various translation tricks allowed her to handle many others. The English vocabulary was backed up by a knowledge of meaning, and associations, including some cultural references. On some levels she felt she had thousands of years of experience to draw-on, in other ways she was obviously born today.

The sandwich and soup she was eating weren't of the best, and it occurred to her that supplies might be running a little low. A quick stealth scan of food stores was a little worrying, so, after checking that no one seemed to be observing, she replenished a few near-empty store rooms, and refrigerators. Yes, someone would be suspicious, particularly when their inventories didn't match up. But, they were unlikely to track it back to her; she'd made sure there were only background magical residues in the created supplies. Part payment for her appropriated hotel room.

Happier that she had been able to help-out, GNE turned her thoughts back to her own problems. All she knew at the moment was what she'd gathered, from a few trawls via local Internet links, and books and magazines in the convention centre. Something... more direct was required.

Quickly, with the time-accelerated parts of herself, she drew-up designs for tools, simulation-tested them, discarded, and re-designed. Within human-scale seconds she had something that looked workable. It was such a pleasure, all the parts of her, working together, to produce something, as a smooth and coordinated whole!

Raising subtle shields she actualised an immaterial stealth drone. Ran it through its self-tests. Pass. Actualised two more, which also tested OK. These should be able to search out and take complete scans of the world's big libraries. Later, if that went OK, she'd send them to take copies of the Internet search engine databases. Then, university and corporate research facilities. Then, maybe a few large science fiction and fantasy bookshops, and, considering the Event, a few anime, video, and specialist games shops.

A tall young man, wearing a black 'Slayers' t-shirt, paused by her table. “Mind if I sit here? The Klingons on the other side of the room don't look too friendly, and that's where all the empty tables are.”

“Sorry, you look a bit distracted? I hope I'm not disturbing you.” And, he moved as if to walk on.

“Please! Sit down. I guess there's been a lot to think about. I'm 'GNE', as you might guess from my badge. I see you're... Dave?”

He put his tray on the table. While he was distracted by this GNE dispatched her drones, initially to circle out and study the magic flows in the area. It seemed sensible to do that before a wider survey. She carefully dismantled her subtle shields. No point in complicating things.

“Yes, Dave Collins. I'm really lucky I didn't take up my friend's offer of a Zelgadis costume. I'd sprained my ankle, and I didn't think a chimera with a limp would look right.” He paused, obviously a bit embarrassed. “Did you wear a costume?”, he asked after the silence began to stretch.

“Don't worry! I'm not upset”, and GNE grinned. “I'm afraid that what you see is what you get”, and she indicated her green-dressed form. “I've no memories of before the awards ceremony, the Event as some people are calling it. At least I can speak, and have hands.”

“I can even do a few little tricks that look like magic!”, and GNE shook her soup spoon, bending it like rubber. A few mystic passes, over the remains of her sandwich, and she frowned (cutely) at Dave. “Ah! You are thinking of the ten of hearts!”

Dave paused, then laughed, only stopping when he was wiping his eyes. Several people looked over, some smiling, and others obviously deciding it was none of their business. “Thank you. That is the first time I've laughed since... Yesterday. It seems a lot longer ago than that.”

They talked quietly, for a while, Dave claiming that the Event would cause revolutionary change, and GNE suggesting wait-and-see was best. Dave was half-watching the doorway, and GNE noticed he paid extra attention whenever a red-headed woman came in. “I wonder if it is relevant that I've got red hair?”, she thought.

The drones returned to GNE, and indicated that they shared a thaumatic map, out to a hundred miles radius. With a little more thought GNE decided it would be best for the drones to map and avoid places with magical anomalies. “Please excuse me, Dave. I need to be elsewhere. Thanks for the chat. I hope your friend is OK.” And, she rose, smiled at Dave, and left.

Second Aid

Lenny sat in comfort. Air conditioned, in an unexpectedly warm November in Florida. A choice of three different things to drink. An excellent view of the awards ceremony of the Xanadu Masquerade.

OK, he was in a disabled car parking slot, around the side of the convention centre. His air conditioning was due to his masquerade 'costume'. And, his view was from a camera 'remote unit', carefully positioned by a friend from their gaming club...

But, it was all pretty good. In particular as he was really Laurence (Norman) Edward III, a Gulf War veteran, and partially paralysed from the neck down, as well as shy a couple of legs. The efforts of his friends, using shop and scenery skills, had given him the best armoured wheelchair anyone could have: a Bolo. Attaching his campaign medals had been a nice touch.

It looked as though Mr Winters was coming up to announce the awards, now. Lenny thought they really had a chance, in the 'mecha' category, even though the judges had come outside to see him. Both the main turret traversed, and the infinite repeaters, and the multiple tread systems really looked as though they were the motive force.

Lenny thought he saw a flash of black wings, then, as his vision greyed out, and he thought, "Funny time for my heart to give out", implacable force pushed him to one side. "Unit LNE of the Dinochrome Brigade, Mark XXXIII, 25th Armoured Assault Brigade", echoed, somewhere far off.

...

GNE had been helping out with first aid, and sometimes, a little surreptitious second-aid, when something began to niggle. A first pass with passive sensors showed nothing, so, she stood up, stretching, knuckling the small of her back, and said she needed a few minute's break.

A careful scout around led her to the rear of the convention centre, where she hadn't been before. As she got closer she sensed a strain in local reality, and a secondary focus in the Masquerade suite. Priorities, priorities...

...

Lenny looked up. It wasn't completely dark, but something was blocking his vision. From the quality of the light he thought he was indoors, and, as usual, he couldn't feel his body, not even faintly his right arm. It had been quiet for quite a long time, after he came around, and he got the chance to exercise the patience that he'd had to acquire, the hard way.

Someone moved the obstruction, he thought it was a sheet of cardboard, and he could see a young red-haired woman, reasonably cute, in a green dress. She frowned down at him, and, he couldn't help but think it made her look even cuter. "I'm GNE, and, I guess you're 'Lenny'. Please excuse this."

'Jeanie' was holding him up, in front of a wall mirror. That would have been impressive, but the fact she was carefully holding a disembodied head... The head looked just like his own, though totally bald, and the neck ended neatly, with a metal band. She gave him a good chance to look, then slowly turned, what he had to accept was him, to see the rest of the room.

Stunned, he realised the last time he'd seen this room it was in much better condition. Burns on the walls and ceiling, smashed fitments, debris all over the floor. Not somewhere he'd want to navigate his wheelchair through. How?

He thought back. The remote unit. It was a plastic head with a video camera for one eye, a fake lens for the other, and stuffed full of batteries and the short-range transmitter. He remembered he'd called it his 'other head'...

The woman cleared a surviving table, with a suspiciously easy sweep of one hand, and placed his head to overlook one end. She then bent, and seemed to wrench members from less lucky tables, to lay them out before him. Something like a head-less human stick-figure quickly took shape.

Somewhere, she found a pair of scissors, and started to cut up a tattered poster, laying sections over the 'skeleton', in the rough outline of a human body. She quickly grinned at him, "Now, Lenny, are you familiar with the saying 'Any sufficiently advanced technology...'.

...

Lenny looked down at his body, clad in a blue, vaguely military-looking, jumpsuit. Even a con badge, "Lenny Steel, Bolo Operator". He flexed his hands, noticing how he automatically shifted his balance, patted what seemed to be a high-quality wig, and turned to look at the genie. "So. A robot body. Plastic skin. Do I get to run at 60mph? Leap small buildings with a single bound?"

GNE looked a bit embarrassed. "Sorry, only about top-rank human athlete abilities. But, I did include a bio-reactor, so you get some value out of food. And, human-grade senses of smell, touch and taste. Do you want more?"

"No! I'm happy to have this. I'm a lot better off than some you mentioned. And... Where's my Bolo?"

GNE gestured at a pair of surviving chairs. Slightly apprehensively, he sat.

"Actually, you are still in your Bolo. As best as I can tell, you are a 'brain in a bottle', wired into the command and control centres. Your brain is sensing the world through your 'remote unit', here. Some sort of sub-space link. If you sit down somewhere, and rest, I suspect you could start to explore your relationship with your ex-wheelchair."

Lenny gulped. "And?"

"There shouldn't be any problems, for the moment. I came out to find LNE very responsibly resisting getting any bigger. He had already filled the three disabled parking slots, and was pressing on the convention centre on both sides. Thirty-two thousand tonnes of nuke-resistant armoured war machine..."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No. Bolos are very responsible where it comes to protecting humanity. Obviously, I hadn't got any command authority, but we negotiated. He is now in a down-town underground car park, about the same size as your original model, and being maintained in that size by a fusion-powered gadget called a Dimensional Formatter. Please don't tamper. I think you should be able to figure-out how to talk to him, at just about any distance, with a little effort."

GNE grimaced. "Oh! In case you are wondering, there is a side-arm, a power gun, that goes with that uniform. It is cached in the Bolo, because I thought there were enough people running around here with high tech weapons. Here is your parking ticket. And a map."

Lenny, hmphed, and took them with less than grace.

GNE grinned. "I even arranged that there are a legal pair of number plates. The car parking fee is covered, for at least a couple of weeks." She got up, nodded politely to him. "Please excuse me. Best if you take a little time to absorb your situation. I think I'd better go back to helping with first aid!"

Seduction

Aladdin was a pain. He was upset about breaking up with Jasmin. And, he wanted a genie to solve all his problems. GNE seemed to have been elected. The last thing she'd expected to run into at Xanadu was a stalker.

Best as GNE could figure-out, he'd agreed the costumes months before, with his then girlfriend. Not that they expected to win, or anything, they just wanted to fit in with everyone else. But, they'd fallen out, and both been too short of time to sort out new costumes. Hence the, possibly amusing, spectacle of two Fated Lovers who wouldn't talk to each other.

Neither seemed to suffer from the Costume Curse. So, apart from getting a lot better looking, if no longer like themselves, they seemed free to wear what they wanted. Aladdin seemed to think his 'street boy' look was best for hanging around the convention. Maybe because it showed off his bare chest.

Aladdin seemed to think that he was entitled to find a magic lamp, or, maybe a ring. GNE got the impression that he was far more into the role, at least in some ways, than his Jasmin, who claimed that her 'Disney Princess Powers' meant that she didn't have to put up with any man who wasn't a 'True Hero'. GNE was a little taken aback by his complaints that she "wasn't a blonde", and "wasn't dressed right".

From what GNE could tell he was alternating 'finding' (stealing) lamps and rings, then brandishing them at her and commanding her obedience, with pestering the various magical types that Xanadu now offered for the 'hidden secret of her powers'. She had already had to rescue a lamp from him that actually contained a genie – a quick substitution for an identical fake had fixed that. Unfortunately, he seemed to have Aladdin's luck in avoiding the wroth of wizards, or GNE suspected he would be a small charcoal brickette by now.

His latest scheme was to propose marriage to her. He seemed to believe that a female genie must marry any man who asks her, and then use her powers for him. Unless his plans included bigamy then GNE couldn't see how this would get 'his Jasmin' back, and in general it was very annoying.

For a while GNE had thought he'd make a nice Aladdin figure. She'd seen some for sale in the Dealers Room. But, she was afraid that if she did that to him then Jasmin would be affected as well. Also, she had to admit it wasn't a very moral thing to do, even if she promised herself she'd change him back, later. Eventually.

The obvious solution was to claim that she already had a master. But, that would likely involve the super-hero id of her creator, Owen, 'Ace Dreamer'. Which she'd worked quite hard to avoid. Another alternative might be to create a 'master' out of whole cloth. But, GNE was concerned that the magic of Xanadu might make that a much more real relationship than any she might have planned.

Eventually, GNE decided that she had to just sit down with him and thrash it out. Arranging that Jasmin join them a little later was quite easy to arrange. GNE asked them for their stories about how they had got involved with each other originally, their shared interests that led them to come to Xanadu. A minimal amount of strengthening of their pre-Xanadu memories seemed justified, as they were both trying to draw on them.

"I never realised", thought GNE, "that one of my tasks as a 'helpful genie' would be relationship counsellor...".

Sedition

Mid to late evening, some of the chaos had subsided. Or, maybe people had run out of energy. GNE had been fire-fighting since the Event. Mostly helping with first aid, later by talking to people, some of whom were now without voices, and who could talk to few others.

Some of the more thoughtful had started to ask "What next?". GNE had no immediate answers, but it was better than trying to manage so many different, though often minor, variations on "It's the End of the World!". GNE privately agreed, it was the end of this world. But, what world would follow?

The Green Room had originally been for guests of the convention, but was now a small lounge where those providing first aid, or other assistance, to the many victims of the Event, could take a break. GNE was sitting quietly, sipping hot chocolate that had previously been not very good coffee. Doctor Sands/Quest looked up, from where he had been reading a copy of "Science", which featured a cover picture of something like a brain cell.

"You're going tell me that you've been observing me, aren't you?" remarked GNE. Dr. Sands nodded. "Well", and GNE grinned, "I've been watching you to!", and received a small smile in return. "We both had to make sure that no one was there with ulterior motives, that were not in the best interests of those being helped", finished GNE.

Dr. Sands looked directly at her. "Not a bad assessment. I will admit to some general curiosity about the helpers. Sheila, for example, was costumed as a nurse. Some others had registered with the con as emergency paramedics, and I think it's good we had some with veterinary training."

"You, on the other hand, are either in everyday clothes, or a costume that I don't recognise. With a badge suggesting you might be a 'helpful genie'. The downside of that being that 'Aladdin' who was pestering you." He coughed. "And, your clothes haven't got dirty or creased, even without you wearing an apron."

"Yes", and GNE looked down for moment, "Aladdin was difficult to help". "You probably spotted some people who's injuries... weren't as bad as they first looked to be. I guess you might say I've something like the Clothing Curse, as this is how I'd expect to look. People could think I've got some sort of minor magic powers. The spoken 'telepathy' is pretty obvious."

He paused. "I think I hear what you're saying. In some respects I'm surprised that the convention centre is still standing, given some of the power levels, and mental states, that we've seen today. Or, that we haven't been relocated to the Moon, or the Lost City of Atlantis. Are you all right? You've been working for hours with very few breaks."

"Thank you, but I don't need either physical or mental rest. Other than to help me handle the 'future shock' that just about everyone is suffering from. I realise that lots of people have had a hard, almost impossible, time. But, at least I'm not suffering from trying to reconcile two sets of memories. I don't have any personal memories, at all, of before the Event." GNE frowned thoughtfully. "Which I'm not sure whether makes me a 'Stranger', as I've heard some people call it."

Dr. Sands looked concerned. "Is forgetting your past something you are supposed to do? Some part of your... nature?"

"No", and GNE looked sad, "If anything, I am never supposed to forget. My memories are supposed to go back thousands of years, and my mind is supposed to work clearly and reliably, indefinitely, and certainly for tens of thousands of years. I've thought carefully, and I haven't any experience prior to the Event.". She smoothed her face. "But, that is not going to stop me from doing what I believe to be right!"

"I suppose then", he said thoughtfully, "that the question is: what do you think you should do?".

"I'm supposed to help people. But, not in a way that interferes with them making their own choices, their own mistakes. I might throw a random factor into people's lives, but that should only be one that opens up new possibilities for them." GNE nodded, determinedly.

"That is a good statement of intent. But, I don't think it fully addresses the situation. And, I don't think it's what's really been bothering you." Dr. Sands looked directly at her, again.

"Well", said GNE slowly, carefully resisting the temptation to analyse the situation to death, "I'm still trying to work out who I am. Am I an American citizen? I can certainly claim to have been 'born in the USA'. I wasn't born anywhere else! This world has just had an immense shock. Physicists will be pulling their hair out for years, working out how magic means they need to rethink their theories. And, I'd like to help out with all of that."

"Also, I've over-heard talk. Speculations. That the government will want to exploit the Event. I'm afraid that this seems unfortunately likely, and I can't just dismiss it as paranoid conspiracy theory."

Dr Sands nodded, "You aren't the first to be concerned about that. I expect that it'll take years to sort everything out. There are good and bad people in all walks of life, and no one has figured out yet how to make any government an exception to that.".

"Maybe", said GNE, "The secret is to work hard to make it clear that you are part of the solution, rather than part of the problem? And, I think it might be very important to try and ensure that something created by the Event doesn't become the government!".

Evening

As she lay on her bed, in her single hotel room, GNE thought back over the day. Very reluctantly (with very few exceptions) she had restricted herself to only small-scale changes to people. As, apart from the ethical issues, this seemed to have the best chance of working, 'going with the (magical) grain', so as to speak, and minimise the risk of being spotted. She itched, almost irresistibly, to do some major things to fix people's problems. And there were so many people with problems. But, she still didn't understand, clearly enough, exactly what she might be tampering with.

Most people resting for the night did give her another opportunity, though. Carefully she extended a subtle mental web through the hotel, leaving spaces around those who she suspected might detect it, and interpret it as some sort of attack. This was the most risky thing she had tried, yet, but there were so many people hurting, and she couldn't see a way to ignore their need.

With a few careful checks to vary things for those who had become too non-human, she provided a gentle push, a suggestion. That sleep would help people work towards solutions to their problems. That they would get the rest they required to face the next day. That nightmares not trouble them more than they needed to. That some of the tangles of the day start to make more sense.

Shifting this onto an automatic part of herself, so the web of suggestion would be maintained over the next few hours, she turned her thoughts more to her own problems. Her reactions today had been, strange, uncharacteristic. It wasn't like her to try and hide, to pretend to be just another face in the crowd. Yes, she had been very scared, she was quite prepared to admit that. But, she felt her basic nature was to solve problems, not avoid them.

One big issue was, just what were her limits? Her creator, Owen, hadn't finished writing just what she was capable of. But, GNE suspected he intended someone far less powerful than those notes he was editing from that fantasy world setting. He had crossed-out her fantasy world origin and history, from what gathered by reading his notes, but hadn't 'trimmed her down' so that her capabilities more fitted a role as a super hero 'side-kick'.

Yes, his notes described her original, fantasy, self as “being able to argue with (major) gods”, and that fitted her beliefs about herself. But, she had met a lot of people today whose beliefs about how they fitted into the world were far from correct. She took a deep breath. The only way to be sure was to test things, and, hopefully avoid setting off lots of magical or technological alarms.

Carefully disconnecting the dream web she had created from her person, and attaching it in an immaterial proxy, which she buried below her room, she started to raise her most subtle screens. The local reality warped, on many levels, so as to show a normal human woman, with the sort of minor magical abilities she had implied that she had during the day, lying quietly on her bed.

Once she was happy with her screens, and one of the regular scanning sweeps that covered the hotel had passed, without apparent alarm, she started to breathe more easily. Next, she shifted into immaterial form, and raised the strongest reality barriers she could, so that no hint of what she planned to do escaped, isolating her from all but the most fundamental magical flows of the area.

“Gremlins! She suddenly thought, frantically. “What if what I'm doing attracts gremlins, the chaos bane of all high technology?” After a little pondering she grimly brought counter-measures into existence. “Gremlins might be nasty, and claim no limits to their powers, but, there were ways of working around that!”

The hotel room faded away, into a golden sparkling grey mist, as she erased its reality, while making sure she could recreate it. “All seems OK, so far...” Disturbances formed in the mist, as engines tapping and controlling even greater powers condensed. “Now, for the Limbo Gate.”

A rainbow-wreathed hoop appeared, with the deepest black imaginable in the centre. GNE paused, waiting for a response. But, no messengers or dimensional guardians descended on her, insisting she cease and desist. Focusing on the gateway her planned structures started to appear beyond. A hardwood floor. Plastered walls and a high roof, pleasantly lit from no clear source. Chairs, bookcases, a small kitchen alcove to one side. Doors leading off, deeper into the complex, from the anteroom. Finally, carved panelled doors, apparently of wood, with brass fittings, appeared just beyond the gateway.

GNE inspected the gateway for a few moments, then dismissed it, after relocating her engines of power deep into her new creation. The grey mists faded, condensing into the hotel room and its fitments, and she re-materialised as she had been, on the bed. “Phew! I managed it, but it was a lot harder work than I expected. The Primordial Limbo that is between all worlds must be much harder to reach from here.”

“There was also something about how the local reality responded to reality manipulation that was... too eager, a little slippery. Stabilising that so that things went exactly how I planned wasn't fun.”

She pondered for a few moments. The dream web would work automatically, now. And, now she had a bolt-hole, a hideaway, somewhere she could work privately without fear of the Event throwing another surprise in her direction, she felt a little more confident. Getting to her feet, she moved towards her hotel room door, dismantling her barriers and subtle screens. It might be fun to walk around, and helpfully meddle in a slightly less restrained way than she had done so far.

Morning

Morning, GNE thought. Arguably the first morning of her life, though she felt she could draw on thousands of years of experience. She looked forward to breakfast, meeting people over food, and, if they didn't serve her hot chocolate, some coffee was going to be mysteriously transmuted.

Last night had been... bad. Being alone with their changes had been too much for some people. She had nudged a couple of would-be suicides so that they would think again in the morning whether life was still worth living. She thought her positive dream-web suggestions had helped a few people survive through the night. The vampire girl...

The vampire girl had staked herself, through the heart, leaving a suicide note asking that they ensure she was thoroughly dead. GNE had not spotted the depths of her despair, maybe because she was no longer human, but her determination was such it would have taken more than a nudge to get her to think again.

Arguing with herself over the ethics, GNE had substituted an almost identical dead body, and put the original in stasis, in the newly created medical vaults of her hideaway. If she could reverse the changes of the Event then GNE needed someone to test this on. A suicide with no other choices left was almost a volunteer, though GNE wished she had dared to revive her, so as to check.

As she walked from her room to the restaurant, GNE did a little 'tidying' of the hotel. She didn't completely wipe away the damage, but, in 'the light of morning' it would prove to not be as bad as people had thought yesterday. In her opinion the long-suffering staff needed all the help they could get.

Repairing inanimate things was easy, as their original pattern was visible to her, just below the damaged surface. Later, she resolved to go out into the car park, and see if she could make a few people's cars a little more repairable, or at least salvageable.

She nodded, and smiled, at various people as she met them, and was sure she got at least a few envious looks. She appeared to be someone who had avoided the worst of the transformations, though some of the most 'normal' looking had suffered the most profound changes. Owen, her creator, was usually late for breakfast, so eating early gave her the best chance of avoiding him.

So far she had managed to avoid Owen, and he didn't seem to have realised that she might exist. She hadn't seen any signs that he was using any strange powers, but, she suspected that he was more likely to be reactive than go looking for trouble. If she was fortunate his caution, and apparently unchanged nature, would lead to his early escape from this situation. He at least had a past and a home to go to. If he tried to slip away without the authorities realising she would do her best to cover his trail, but, she suspected he was too law-abiding to do that.

Her passive scans of him, from what she'd hoped was a safe distance, had given her some information, like his meal time habits, but otherwise surprisingly little. A sort of mutter of background thoughts, like you'd get from almost anyone. Or, maybe she was coming up against some sort of 'secret identity' defence. You were supposed to get just enough information that you dismissed him as just another 'man-in-the-street'?

She felt there ought to be some way to check, to test, whether her assumptions about Owen were correct. But, somehow the idea seemed slippery, and things kept distracting her, or other matters seemed more important. After several attempts at this her self-check internal consistency alarms started going off. With a considerable effort she clamped down on the magical flows running through her, and generated a 'clean' copy of her immaterial self, from what should be secure back-ups.

Her new self only knew her situation for the first five human-scale seconds after she first appeared, so took a considerable time to be brought up to date. After some thought she realised that the immaterial bug that she'd left, yesterday, just after the Event, to listen to and track Owen had completely slipped her mind. “That confirms that something is working to maintain his secret id, even from me”, she mused thoughtfully.

The bug still seemed to exist, but it seemed best to leave it alone, unless it sent her some sort of warning. She'd like to pick through the details of its logs, but, that looked like an uphill battle, fighting against the magic of Xanadu. “Owen is a big boy, he ought be able to look after himself”, she realised she was rationalising. “For now, I'll let him have his privacy.”

Rest Room

Bolting the rest room cubicle door behind her, GNE smoothly inserted an illusion of her going on, and taking the seat. She didn't need to use the facilities, having several different ways to avoid that need, but really, really, felt she had to take a break from Xanadu. With a blurring, the wall of the cubicle turned into two wooden doors. GNE reached out and adjusted the time rate within her hideaway, up a thousand-fold, and stepped through the doors that opened to her touch.

GNE staggered, fell to her knees, and felt her million-self, then thousand-self, collapse, then just wink out. Her mind started to go dark and she stretched out, frantically, fumbling, then reached for one of her engines of power, and twisted so it worked differently.

Slowly her vision began to clear, as a trickle of magic flowed into her, and she felt her larger mind start to come back on. If she had been immaterial when she entered here, without a physical human body... That would have been the end of her. “Very nearly a case of involuntary suicide”, she thought ruefully.

“I designed the laws of reality in this place so that magic wasn't a fundamental part of them”, she murmured. “Not very smart, seeing as the magic of the Event is what is keeping me in existence.” She checked herself, carefully, but there was no sign of any permanent damage. “At least that near-fatal accident strongly suggests that magic isn't twisting reality here.”

GNE pondered, then did something she hadn't tried yet. She split herself, carefully ensuring that both parts had her full memories, and abilities. Then, she left one of herself in the anteroom, at a thousand times the Xanadu time-rate, and shifted the rest of the complex up to a million times. “Time to do some serious work!”

...

A difficult to measure time later she merged her two parts together, then, carefully deleted all the magical energies from her self. “Well, I'm not dead yet!” and she let out a held breath.

Assuming she hadn't made any mistakes she was now a being of technology, not magic. Working at really fundamental levels, way below the atomic. Adapting to whatever the physical laws of any world she entered, automatically, even using magic if that was what was required.

While she was here, she thought it would be nice to walk in the gardens, one product of her spare time and relaxation during her re-making. A door to the left of the anteroom led down a short corridor, to a conservatory. The sun, her sun, shone down on elegant but comfortable chairs and tables, set among the green and flowering plants. She walked on, to an outer door.

There was her garden, beyond a patio, of smooth flat panels of pastel stone. Far off, beyond the hedge at the edge of her garden, she could see golden fields, and, in the distance, blue mountains. Yes, it was all, beyond the garden, a fake, but it gave a nice view. She walked down the path, into the garden. Then sat on a swing, hanging from an apple tree, and read one of her favourite novels.

...

Relying on the memories of her self from the anteroom, and pushing aside the, at least, decades of hard research and experimentation, GNE stepped back into the cubical. The wooden doors closed soundlessly behind her. A wash of magic flowed through her, roiled, then seemed frustrated, and she carefully placed reins on it. She would decide how this world would change her!

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This story stands alone, but there are side stories.