A week later, after the meeting with the three Vanguard, Councilman Quenn, and Alecs’ team; at Whisk’s garage, the small crew is awaking to another day. Arial is sitting at the table in the hanger, ticking away on her small tablet device while Pheln was working on the Leviathan; Lyle was on the far end of the shop operating a lathe, modifying the barrel to Arial’s’ “Should have stayed in bed this morning” sniper rifle. Boris was asleep in his room, still getting over a hangover from downing too much booze the night before. Whisk was in the hanger working out, attempting to show off how much he could lift and bench to try and impress Arial (who could careless and rolled her eyes when he looked at her). Jk-Bx was, well, being Jk-Bx; he was wearing a small apron in the kitchen (also in the hanger area, where Arial sat at her table; the kitchen had a good view of the Leviathan from the other side of the hanger) making breakfast, playing techno, and doing a little bit of dancing in between flipping pancakes, turning bacon or eggs, pouring beverages (milk, juice, water, etc.), and changing out toast. Alec was in his room, sitting on the bed, going through the box that Spencer had given him the day that he’d awoke in his Exo body. The box contained pictures of Alec and his family, friends in the FOTC Corps, lost or exotic places that he and his wife Eleanor had visited, and a few old pictures from his childhood. The box also contained dog tags of a few dead comrades, his wedding band and Eleanor’s’ engagement ring, he also found his Bible that Spencer had given him. “You have a very elaborate past Alec,” Ithamar said, watching Alec go through the box. “Do you ever have any doubt about your God?” “No,” Alec responded. “Only doubts of myself being unable to perform or do what I need to do to protect what remains of His creations, what remains of this city.” “Why doubt yourself?” Ithamar inquired. “You have come this far and He has not let you down, has he not?” “No,” Alec admitted. “He has not, but I feel like I have let him down.” “You have protected your kind since you were young,” Ithamar continued. “You and your sister Jennifer as children, Eleanor and your children when you were older, Daniel in the FOTC Corps., the children that you encounter in the city that need help, fellow Guardians on the battlefield of today; you also help the weak and needy, stand up for justice and your faith above all, and you don’t let anyone or anything stand in your way. To be a Guardian, you must put others before yourself; you chose to sacrifice an ordinary life, not for an extraordinary life of action or glorification of yourself, but a life of serving your Savior over yourself in order to save the city in a way that most wouldn’t understand. You stand up to dictators, anarchy, evil, wickedness, immorality, and you promote peace over chaos.” “What do you promote?” Alec asked, being in deep thought of what Ithamar had just said. “I was not designed with the capacity to choose right from wrong,” Ithamar began. “Rather, learned it from a young girl…” “Julia,” Alec said, interrupting Ithamar. “How did she teach you that?” “Her way of teaching me was like riding a bike, when I fell down, she’d help pick me back up. Ithamar began. “She would often have me sit down at her little tea party table and help with her tea party; she had one every Sunday afternoon, precisely at 2:00 P.M. She always began with a prayer of thanksgiving and praise for what she had as her mother and father had taught her. As the tea party went on, she could tell that I was not used to such an occasion, seeing that didn’t know what she meant by asking me if I wanted tea or asking what kind of crackers I may like. For a five year old she was very bright and smart for her age; she understood that I was a machine, but couldn’t understand why I couldn’t decide for myself what to choose from her tea selection or snack trays. I was also curious of her prayer, why she had said it and what it meant; she first went and got her little Bible, and then began to explain to me why she did it and what it meant. To this very day, I still remember her apologizing to Mr. Fuzzy (her stuffed, light brown, teddy bear) for the interruption, but said it was of the utmost importance that she began teaching me right away of what she was doing and why it was important. I’ll go into greater detail some other time…” “I see,” Alec began. “Alecia liked to have tea parties, my young daughter, and I remember the conversations we would have with her own toys and stuffed animal friends. Quite…entertaining, is it not?” “In deed,” Ithamar conquered. “Perhaps we should venture out and see what everyone is up to; we can discuss our pasts’ later.” Alec agreed, putting the lid on the box and setting it on the bed; then proceeding out into the hallway, heading to the hanger (his scent detector informing him of the aroma of bacon and something burning). Jk-Bx was preparing plates and explaining what was on the menu for tomorrow when he caught Alec in his view. “That’s right folks,” Jk-Bx was informing the crew. “Tomorrow we're having mush or grits, French toast, sausage, grape fruits, and-Hey, Alec and Ithamar are here!” Alec waved in acknowledgment, wishing he still had the ability to eat and drink seeing the smorgasbord of food Jk-Bx had cooked up. Alec could only guess that Jk-Bx had purchased the food from someone who had connections in the black market, having this much food and quality (no powdered eggs and milk, but the real deal was rare in most cases). “These pancakes are amazing!” Exclaimed Arial. “Do I taste vanilla in them?” “Yup,” Jk-Bx said casually. “Real vanilla extract; very expensive.” “How could you afford all this?” Whisk asked? “Oh, I have my ways.” Jk-Bx remarked, walking over to the stove on his hands. “Alec, please sit, I have a surprise for you…” Alec sat down at the table and half expected Jk-Bx to pour him a bowl of nuts, bolts and screws with a side of motor oil. Instead, Jk-Bx had Alec opens his hand and he put a piece of bacon in it, instructing Alec to put it where his mouth would be. As he did so, Alecs brain was swept away by the aroma of the salty meat, for a moment, he thought he could really take a bite out of it, when suddenly he noticed the bacon was gone. “Uh, what just happened?” Alec asked, a bit confused by what had just occurred. “You just ‘ate’ that bacon.” Jk-Bx said, getting all excited. “Excuse me?” Arial said with a mouthful of egg and toast. Jk-Bx does a cartwheel as he positions himself in front of the table. “Here we go,” Jk-Bx began, grabbing a piece of bacon off of a plate. “Alecs brain and heart are inside of a solution we called ‘Solia’ or ‘blue’ solution, it is used to preserve and maintain the organs from decomposing, plus keep them functioning. One of the things that was developed during the Golden Age was a form of nan-nites. Nan-nites were small, almost microscopic, mechanical little insect like creatures that were given to us by the Traveler. They serve a variety of uses, from assisting in armor regeneration, medical purposes, disposing of waste, etc. In the developing of the Exo though, a type of nan-nite was made to break down food and transport it to the human organs to give them additional nutrients. The brain remembers things, but only things that the brains have recorded, unknown scents are kept recorded by the Exo’s computer. You see (Jk-Bx holds up his hand and what looks like a swarm of insets began to form above his palm) these little dudes will break down just about anything; metal, plastic, flesh, wood, concrete, rock, synthetic material, etc. (Jk-Bx places the piece of bacon into the swarm and everyone watched as it broke down in mere seconds.) Tada!” “Well,” Arial began to say. “You don’t see that every day. What do you think Alec?” “I think I need more bacon, ASAP,” Alec began. “Does this affect the ‘blue’ solution? What happens if my mind doesn’t get it regularly?” “Oh,” Jk-Bx began. “You can have it whenever you like actually, it only benefits you as you need it; your mind will only absorb so much. No, it doesn’t affect the ‘blue’ solution; unless you introduce some other kind of solution to it. Also, not everything you break down goes to your mind, it goes through a kind of filter so nothing deadly gets to your mind; you know, like toxic stuff?” “I think he has some air on his brain,” Whisk said, sipping his coffee. “You drink too much,” Ithamar remarked. “I’m getting a scent of whiskey in that coffee; a little early for Irish coffee isn’t it?” “Leave me alone,” Whisk said. “Why do you drink in the first place,” Ithamar continued. “According to Alec’s memory, Daniel wasn’t a heavy drinker, regardless what had happened in his past.” [b]Continued below[/b]