- Detective Leeza Bydand, Tecton Transfer
Investigations, pushed a strand of dripping hair back beneath her
cloak’s hood and stared down at her quarry. The steady, cold
drizzle had been raining down all night, and the dawn light was a
weak glow against the storm’s gloom. Even that light was
welcomed, helping her to finish her investigation of this scene.
She felt no triumph in the successful conclusion of this chase,
only an empty sense of a wasted young life. The young Sime lay
huddled in a doorway of one of the alley’s shabby buildings,
futilely clutching a worn brown cloak about his thin frame.
Bending down, she zlinned for any final clues. Wet brown hair
framed a face of sharp angles, staring eyes, and blue lips. The
body was cold, nagerically and heat-wise, though not long cold.
Touching one of the boy’s tentacles tangled in the
cloak’s edge and zlinning deeply, Leeza estimated he had
died not much more than five hours earlier.
- "So close. And so far," she muttered
with a tired curse. Footsteps squelched closer in the
alley’s sodden muck, and the area brightened with Coroner
Zackry Hargen’s approach. She welcomed the warmth of the
Gen’s nager, a glow of life to beat back the impact of this
death.
- Looking down at the body, Hargen asked,
"Attrition?" His voice was grave. For a Gen, Hargen had
an uncommonly good idea of how much Simes feared that end.
- "No. Yes…." Leeza straightened
up, wrapped her own cloak more tightly against the drizzle, and
moved woodenly toward the mouth of the alley. "Looks like he
tried to channel someone stronger than he was. The other
didn’t kill him, but he didn’t have enough selyn left
to survive last night’s cold and wet." She waved a hand
at the gloom, tentacles flicking chill raindrops out and away.
- "This is Jeddin District, black market
selyn and anything else that sells for a profit. They grow up
fast or not at all here." Hargen’s voice was hardening,
the tone changing to dismissive as he followed her back to the
street.
- Leeza shook her head. "He wasn’t
District. Average family, Kendic merchants over in Taron Sector.
File says the boy was a low rated QN-3, QN-4 if there were such a
thing. The local Center didn’t ‘need’ his
services; his rating was too low. He was trying to avoid entran.
It’s not uncommon, unfortunately."
- Hargen’s brow wrinkled,
"Entran?" He’d heard the term, but, as for most
Gens, true understanding of the painful condition eluded him.
"I thought only high rated channels, QN-1s, got
entran."
- Ordinary Gens were those humans whose bodies
produced the selyn that they and Simes needed to live. They could
not zlin, lacking hyperawareness of the fields of living energy
and emotion, awareness of the nager. Gens also lacked tentacles.
Simes were humans whose bodies produced no selyn and required a
monthly transfer through the nerve-rich tentacles, or laterals,
one at each side of each forearm. Ordinary Simes, renSimes, got
their selyn indirectly from Channels, specialized Simes with two
different selyn storage systems. From equally specialized Gen
Companions, Channels took selyn transfer for themselves into
primary systems. From ordinary Gens, they took selyn Donation for
storage in their secondary systems. If a channel did not exercise
his secondary system occasionally, he would experience painful
cramping and field imbalances between the primary and secondary
systems. In some of the stronger channels, the condition could be
fatal. Of course, the Tecton did not permit that to
happen.
- Some channels were better than others were.
Leeza understood that a low rated QN-3 channel could not satisfy
many renSimes. She just wished that the Tecton Controller’s
crusade for efficiency had simple monitoring tasks –
something - for those like the young Kendic. Shaking herself out
of her reverie, Leeza massaged her own aching laterals with the
stronger dorsal and ventral handling tentacles on each arm, two
above each forearm, and two below. She extended her handling
tentacles and touched tips to her fingers. Shaky. Time to get
moving again, get back to the precinct, and finish the report.
Call on the boy’s family. With a grimace, she finally
replied to Hargen’s question.
- "Even a QN-3 can experience entran, if he
never gets to use the secondary system after it’s activated.
It isn’t life threatening for a QN-3, just perpetual misery.
Or so I’ve heard."
- "So he takes illegal donations from
thrill-seeker Gens slumming in the red-light district. Who would
he give the selyn to, though? Aren’t all Simes on transfer
schedules?"
- "You’ll have to ask the local Sime
Center Controller about details and schedules. The irony is, if
we’d gotten to him sooner, arrested him, they would probably
have put him into mandatory ‘rehabilitation’. That
would have solved his entran problem." Leeza stopped, aware
of the bitter tone, her rising voice. Standing with her back to
the alley and its lonely occupant, Leeza raised her face to let
the cold rain wash down. "I’m sorry – I don’t
mean to dump on you. It’s been a very long week."
- She took a calming breath and gave a resigned
shrug, continuing, "It would surprise you how many Simes
like to indulge in illicit augmentation, burning selyn faster
than necessary to be faster, stronger, or just to enjoy. Augment
too much, and you can’t last a month until the next
scheduled transfer. Augment too much without cause, and
you’re a criminal. The criminals are not all renSimes,
either. That’s what killed young Kendic – he tried to
serve some channel with a higher capacity. The other stopped
without draining him, but he died of exposure not very long after
being left here. In this district, our chances of finding the
other are virtually nil. Technically speaking, except for
misdemeanor illicit transfer, the other isn’t even guilty of
anything since the boy probably died of exposure. Pending your
examination, of course."
- Nodding, Hargen cast a harassed glance at the
clouds, "If you’re done here, Detective Bydand, we can
finish up with the body." The rain was coming down harder
now, and the wind gusts were picking up.
- "Yes, I’m done, thanks. Let me know
if you do find anything out of the ordinary." Leeza waved a
soggy farewell and headed for her car as the Coroner’s two
assistants carried a stretcher and body bag into the alley. She
hesitated only a moment before dropping into the driver’s
seat and shoving the wet folds of her cloak to the side. Tabbing
the heat to high, she inched out past the Coroner’s vehicle
and plunged back into the light morning traffic. It was still
early; she was ahead of the morning rush. If her luck held,
she’d make it back to the precinct before that.
- A gust of wind pulled the old fashioned, manual
door from Leeza’s hand as she entered the precinct foyer on
a cold spatter of icy rain. With a muttered curse at the powers
of tradition, Leeza shoved the heavy wooden door closed against
the storm. TTI was a venerable old branch of Civil Order, and the
Powers That Be prided themselves on the Historic building housing
their offices. She passed into the lobby, pausing a moment to let
her eyes adjust to the gloom. She was far too tired to zlin
anymore; after the night into morning just past, Leeza was in no
mood to deal with others’ emotions.
- Luck was still with her. That, or the early
hour. The desk sergeant was the only other person in the room,
and her scowl at the storm draft blown within made Leeza glad her
Sime senses were so low. Normally a cheerful, bright Gen soul,
Sergeant Terry’s desk service and its attendant reports were
the temporary result of injury in action. Perhaps the
storm’s cold pained her newly broken leg. In two weeks or
so, she would be back to her normal rounds and free of the desk.
The Sime healers at the local Center were quite good, actually.
As Leeza stepped further into the light and over to the cloakroom
to hang up her wet cloak, Terry recognized Leeza, and the scowl
faded to concern.
- "Detective Bydand! You look awful; have
you been out all night? Look – I heard….",
flustered, the Sergeant took a breath and started over.
"I’m sorry about the case. It’s too bad about the
kid. What was he, just 18?"
- Leeza glanced at the mirrored windowwall to
Terry’s left, wincing at her reflection. Middling height and
slender as most Simes were, her rumpled gray uniform and
bedraggled black hair gave mute evidence to the past day’s
effort to track down the boy. No, not a boy, not legally.
"16," she corrected sourly. "He was only 16, just
2 years adult and dead in a back alley." She gave an
apologetic shrug for her bad mood, "Yes, too bad," then
stepped to the right, around the desk and toward the hall behind,
but stopped at Terry’s wave.
- "Wait – before you go back. That
cousin of yours keeps calling, Dr. Marnel from over at the Sime
Center," Terry said. "He’s called twice in the
hour I’ve been here. Says for you to call him back, but
won’t say what it’s about." Inspiration struck
her, and she offered Leeza a distraction from the night’s
morbid finale. "He sounded urgent, but he won’t leave a
message. That report can wait. I’ll have someone go notify
the boy’s family. Why don’t you call? Better yet, why
not drive over and see what he wants?"
- "Sevic called?" Leeza gazed up at the
clock over Terry’s desk, considered timing and loose ends.
"It would be a help if someone else can see to the family.
Thanks." She cast a look at Terry’s monitor, then shook
her head. "I think I’d rather get the report over with,
though. I’ll call him back and see what he wants. We can
meet later today."
- Leeza continued down the hall and into her
office, third door on the left. Time in service had its rewards,
a door that closed out the office noise of the open cubes on the
interior and a window that shed light on a much-neglected plant.
Leeza made a mental note, again, to bring some water back from
the cooler. Maybe invest in a cactus. The office was small, with
room for the desk and chair and a pair of chairs beside the door
for occasional visitors. It was home, though. The warm, wooden
paneling was probably original to the building. The lean monitor
on the desk clashed harshly with the paneling, but the hardware
was some of the newest. The best for the Tecton’s finest.
She dropped heavily into her chair and punched her monitor up.
The report would not take long. She could almost copy any number
of older reports – only the names and addresses need be
changed.
- About two hours later, Leeza shut the monitor
down. The storm outside had passed; a ray of bright sunlight
shone in on the wilted plant. Leeza dug around in the desk’s
upper left drawer to find a cup. The chipped ceramic cup she
pulled out made her smile – a present from Sevic after his
visit found her without a coffee cup to lend him. Coffee! The
things a Gen would imbibe could turn a Sime’s stomach. Of
course, most Gens said the same thing about porstan. A
quick trip down the hall to the watercooler and back set the
plant on the road to recovery, and Leeza punched up Sevic’s
number on the phone.
- The duty nurse who answered the call took
Leeza’s name, and Leeza heard the echoes of the page in the
background bustle at the clinic. At only 35, Dr. Sevic Marnel was
already Gen Lead at the local Drennan Sime Center’s
in-patient clinic. Herself only a renSime, Leeza could not say
for sure whether Sevic deserved his reputation as a sizzling
TN-1, the highest level of Companion, but none of the channels
she’d known who worked with him said any differently. He
could get most any position he wanted, but he chose a clinic in
the midst of a city.
- "Leeza, that you? What took you so
long!" Impetuous as ever, her cousin Sevic plunged in.
"I need you to zlin something for me, as soon as you can. We
gotta talk."
- "Me? You don’t have how many channels
at the Center?" Leeza asked dubiously. "Give me a hint,
already."
- "I…It’s hard to explain,"
Sevic returned hesitantly. "Cousin, trust me on this, we
need you to look into something for us." Leeza felt
the first stirrings of alarm as his voice hardened with resolve.
"I really can’t talk about it on the phone." He
never called her ‘Cousin’. "When can you come
over?"
- "It’ll take about 30 minutes from
here," she replied.
- "Come on back to the clinic. I’ll be
waiting for you."
- "Remember to eat some lunch!" Leeza
threw in before he hung up. "I can’t zlin a thing when
that Gen stomach of yours stirs up the nager!"
- "I’ll grab a sandwich now. See you in
30," Sevic answered. The click of the connection breaking
echoed loudly in Leeza’s ear. He had not even protested
about the hunger wisecrack or insisted she buy him lunch.
Whatever it was, it had her cousin, Dr. Sevic Marnel, TN-1,
seriously concerned.
- Threading her way through the midday crowd and
past Sergeant Terry’s desk, Kay made a quick detour to pick
up her cloak, now almost dry. She left the precinct
building and crossed into the garage for the car. Taking the
southbound Express, she headed for the downtown district. The
Drennan Sime Center was located in one of the rougher zones, but
the area was experiencing something of a renaissance. There were
several large building projects underway, including one huge
complex at the docks themselves. Intended to cater to a wide and
varied clientele, the complex would eventually include an
entertainment mall, restaurants, hotel and conference center,
sports arena, and docking facilities for pleasure craft and
commercial tourism. As she swung wide to exit the Express, she
could see the Waterfront in the distance. Now only a dirt-colored
smudge against the horizon, the first of the new complex’
plasteel beams were visible reaching to the sky. Descending to
the surface streets, she lost that view and gained in its place a
narrow, enclosed canyon formed of the towering high-rises to
either side. The river of pedestrian traffic on the sidewalks
thinned as she maneuvered her way toward the Sime Center, and the
canyon opened up to the public park that surrounded the Center in
a green island of calm. Parking at the front lot, she locked the
car and entered the building through the main entrance.
- The detective’s badge on her cloak saw her
past the entry desk, and she walked confidently into the maze of
corridors, halls, and rooms. Sterile walls and glaring
fluorescent lights contrasted with the rich interplay of fields
in the ambient nager. Channel and renSime pairs moved past her on
their way to the comfortably appointed transfer suites. Leeza
savored the iridescent shimmer from so many high field Companion
and Donor Gens, spice not present in an ordinary, mixed crowd
outside a Center. Her own monthly appointment was a little more
than two weeks away. Mindful of the needy renSime clients she
might encounter, Leeza kept tight control on her field as she
made her way to the clinic’s wing. The clinic monitor was
expecting her and buzzed her through the tightly shielded double
doors.
- Access to this wing was strictly controlled. Two
sides of a coin, Leeza mused. I stop people dangerously
abusing transfer, and Sevic helps those being abused by the
transfer process. Dr. Sevic Marnel specialized in Transfer
Mechanics, the branch of medicine dealing with transfer
abnormalities: children undergoing abnormally late changeover
into adult Simes, phobic Simes shenning out of transfer for fear
of lateral injury, phobic Gens once injured and now fearing
transfer, any of a myriad other problems people might have with
selyn transfer. Such patients needed the isolation and quiet of
the clinic’s soundproofed and nagerically insulated walls.
The public needed the confinement of some of the more dangerous
patients.
- Shuddering at the thought of being confined in
one of the sparse rooms she passed, Leeza quickened her pace,
turning the last corner to see the clinic’s main desk. Her
cousin Sevic stood in animated discourse, conferring with an
intern over a multicolor chart on the monitor. The man nodded and
began entering notes with quick stabs of fingers and tentacles as
Sevic turned away and saw Leeza approaching. He gave her a wan
smile and waved her on. "About time, half-pint," Sevic
joked, falling in step beside her to lead the way. "Over
here in the Gen section." A healthy male Gen, Sevic easily
outmassed her by a factor of two. Gen bodies ran on calories, and
their strength was a function of muscle mass and occasional
spurts of adrenaline. Sime bodies ran on selyn, and their
strength was more a function of how fast they chose to burn it.
Sevic’s ragged nager and the dark circles beneath his eyes
bespoke a sleepless night and lingering anxiety.
- He wheeled to face a door; Leeza flung a hand
to the wall to avoid running into him. Sevic’s brow furrowed
as he studied the trefoil emblazoned, red quarantine sigil on the
door. The room was strictly off limits to Simes. He sent her an
enigmatic glance, then slid open the round observation port and
stepped back to allow her the better view. Leeza stepped forward,
looking and zlinning through the thick quarantine glass.
- Within, another Gen, gypsy by his pale coloring
and ghost blond hair, paced angrily back and forth. Notoriously
independent, a gypsy would find the close confines of the room
almost unendurable. Five strides across the room, kick a chair,
and five strides back. Leeza winced at the kick, but the
man’s field was so low she did not feel any pain from his
foot striking the chair. He raised arms covered wrist to elbow
with smooth metallic sheaths and whacked them solidly together.
He paused to give them a narrow-eyed stare, lips compressed in a
rigid line, then resumed his pacing. Light glinted from the metal
on his arms, Sime restraints. Restraints designed to confine all
six tentacles on each arm. On a Gen. Leeza raised an inquisitive
eyebrow at Sevic.
- "It’s to keep him from scratching his
arms raw – he’s just getting over a bad case of Rejic
fever. The rash on his arms where tentacles touched was
impressive. The restraints look ridiculous, but it works."
- "What Sime gave him the fever?"
- "A woman, another in his construction
crew. They’re both migrants from the crew working the new
Waterfront complex. The Gen went to the hospital complaining
about the rash two days ago. Rejic fever looks just like early
Reloc, so they rushed him over here. Research says Rejic is a
less virulent mutation – the virus evolving so as not to
kill its host. It’s contagious Sime to Gen, and Gen
hospitals don’t have much experience with such diseases.
Rejic may not be fatal like Reloc, but it can sure cause a panic.
The clinic got the whole crew in for testing and finished the
last of them yesterday. Found two others with possible symptoms.
They’re all in quarantine here for the next two weeks while
we flush it out of their systems. The Simes are coming up on
turnover in another few days – we should have them out in
plenty of time for transfer."
- "So what’s the problem?"
- "Zlin him. How do you read the
field?"
- "Rock bottom." Leeza frowned,
glancing again at the restraints on the Gen’s arms.
"Rejic fever? What fool took transfer?" She turned to
face her cousin, "And how are you involved? Infectious
diseases are hardly your specialty."
- "Rejic fever has a two week incubation
period. He’s been here, in quarantine, for three days now.
He tells us his last donation was 7 weeks ago. Yesterday, he was
high field, a high-range TN-2. He’s in strict quarantine
from Simes, and those restraints do not come off except when the
Gen nurse is in there to rub on the medicated salve. But today
he’s low field. That’s impossible; no Sime has been
near him." Sevic paced a grim counterpoint to the
gypsy’s movement, albeit without the furniture abuse.
"The Sime who gave him the fever was tending a badly
strained shoulder. That’s why he did not have transfer on
schedule last month. She’s no Tecton healer, though. The
shoulder still had some healing to do, and the rash lesions had
about a week to run their course. Until last night, or maybe
sometime yesterday. Now, the shoulder is healed and the lesions
are almost dry. We are not really sure when it happened or what
happened."
- "What does he say about it?"
- "He wants to talk with his crew about
scheduling a transfer in a week and a half, when he’s out of
quarantine." Sevic stopped, flushed and avoided Leeza’s
gaze. "Dr. Merng zlinned his low field this morning during
rounds. I haven’t told him yet. I don’t know what to
say."
- He stared off into the distance of the hall.
"He is the third one that we know about. One of my
interns, Tavia Ingls, was first, a young TN-2 Companion
volunteering time here at the clinic. She was scheduled for a
routine, Tecton sanctioned transfer." Sevic’s mouth
compressed in an angry line as he continued, "Now, Tavia has
a formal reprimand in her file, despite heated protests that she
did not give anyone transfer. She believes what she says,
utterly. She is telling the truth, as she knows it. She certainly
does not remember giving any Sime, much less an unknown QN-2, the
transfer that took her fields to ‘rock bottom’, as you
put it. Every single dynopter of excess selyn gone, right down to
the levels Tavia needs for her own health. No lower."
- Sevic ran a hand through disordered hair,
resuming his pacing. "The Center Controller’s position
is that she must have given transfer and that the doctors
interviewing her overlooked ‘little white lies’ in her
nager. Hence the reprimand. The Controller has no explanation for
her arm, though." Sevic snorted his disgust. "She had
broken it four days earlier, when she foolishly tried to
intervene in a fight between a pair of Simes here at the Center.
One of them threw her into a wall for her trouble. It did at
least stop the fight; the two Simes were very apologetic. When we
examined her after the ‘incident’, the arm was fine. At
least, she got rid of the cast." Sevic fell silent, facing
the observation port again, hands clenched at his sides.
- "And the next ‘incident’?"
Leeza prompted.
- "About three weeks later. An older couple,
Senja and Carl Riiven. Senja is one of my regular patients. Her
husband Carl always comes with her for her treatments. He’s
a mid-range TN-1, and she’s a pretty high QN-2." Sevic
gazed down at his arm and rubbed just below the elbow in
sympathetic memory. "She injured her left arm’s
laterals in an aircrash several years ago, and that left her
unable to function as a channel. She ended up here at Drennan as
a permanent patient. We give her regular therapy for the inactive
secondary system, and Carl is allowed a semi-permanent exclusive
to serve her transfer need.
- While Senja was in a shielded room having the
usual therapy, Carl’s field…disappeared. In the same
way Tavia’s disappeared, right down to ‘living’
level, and no further. Senja became hysterical; we had to sedate
her. Senja and Carl were only a week from transfer. Of course,
Ian Doran, our Controller, found her another Companion for
transfer. The Riivens almost divorced, but Carl convinced her
that whatever happened, he had not consented to it. She believed
him, and they are putting their marriage back together."
Sevic wrapped his arms about his chest, rocking back on his
heels. "I convinced them to keep it quiet so we would have a
chance to investigate what happened. Somehow."
- "What did Doran say about the second
incident?"
- "That the ‘Official
Investigation’ is underway and there is ‘No
Comment’ for the duration."
- "Any – ah – secondary
effects?"
- "Carl’s trick knee is not bothering
him much these days." Sevic’s head dropped back. He
closed tired eyes and rolled his head on his shoulders, vainly
trying to ease the cramped tension. "That was two weeks ago.
Now it’s happened again, and we are no closer to finding out
what ‘it’ is." His nager quivered with disquiet,
the uneasy vibrations a clammy fog to her senses.
- He suddenly wheeled stepping close to Leeza,
eyes haunted. "Do you understand? Gens are being unwilling,
unknowingly, stripped of their selyn. It’s the nightmare,
the boogey-man parents threaten naughty children with to get them
to go to bed. It’s the fairy-tale monster, the Leech, a Sime
who can steal selyn without touching us, without our permission,
without our even knowing it’s happened! If this news becomes
public – it could destroy Unity!"
End of Story Segment.....
Outline
Beginning: Dr. Sevic Marnel, who works
at the local Drennan Sime Center’s clinic, informs Detective
Leeza Bydand, Tecton Transfer Investigations, of several
mysterious selyn transfer thefts. The thefts seem impossible, as
if a Sime were stealing, leeching, the selyn from the
victims’ fields without their knowledge, much less consent,
and without physically touching them. Those are the
characteristics of the "Leech", a mythical monster Sime
that parents threaten their children with to make them behave.
Simes haven’t hunted Gens for hundreds of years, but
occasional Beserkers still kill Gens. Public knowledge of such
real thefts could trigger widespread panic and rioting, even
threaten the Tecton’s carefully orchestrated Unity. Dr.
Marnel asks his cousin Detective Bydand to investigate the
incidents.
Middle: Bydand locates and arrests the
perpetrator, a suspected mutant Sime of unknown abilities. The
terrible Leech is confined at the Center for study and to prevent
any more selyn thefts. The woman, an otherwise unassuming,
apparently likeable Sime, refuses to discuss who she is, where
she comes from, or why/how she steals the selyn. Her nager is
highly unstable and is deteriorating. She has resigned herself to
die, unable or unwilling to consider other Companions the Center
Controller assigns to work with her. While acknowledging the
necessity of stopping the selyn thefts, Leeza regrets that the
chain of events has led to this point (the woman’s impending
death). Leeza resolves to find out why the woman won’t work
with the Tecton Companions, why she is so intent on suicide, and
what might be done to change the outcome. The Controller objects
to the waste of time on the dangerous mutant, fearing that the
continued attention may lead to public knowledge of the whole
situation. As ill as the woman is, those answers will soon be
academic.
End: In spite of the Controller’s
objections, Leeza tracks down a Gen from the woman’s
village, a man who has followed her and is fixed on her as if he
were the Sime. Bringing the Gen back to the Center and sneaking
him in past Tecton security, Leeza smuggles the Gen into the
woman’s heavily shielded cell. The two have transfer, form a
stable bond, and thereby eliminate the woman’s need to steal
selyn from successive Companions, but in complete defiance of
Tecton rules. As a result, Leeza is removed from the case and
summarily reassigned to Civil Investigations in disgrace. Leeza
is satisfied with the outcome, glad the two young people will
live, and not particularly unhappy to be distancing herself from
the Tecton’s bureaucracy.
Note: The above is the first part of a
longer story set just prior to the Space Age, a generation or two
after RenSime. The rest of the story goes on with the
Controller frightening the confined, bonded pair into teleporting
to freedom around the nageric shielding, again, something
previously thought impossible. When they teleport, they take a
good part of the room with them. Leeza is pulled back into the
investigation to find the pair. She tracks the village down to a
remote, isolated mountain valley (another one!). In fact, the
land appears so poor, Leeza wonders how they could support
themselves and keep the Gens fed. The people there have isolated
themselves away all these years because of the high percentage of
their people who have this bonding mutation. The village has
unobtrusive, amazing architectural elements and infrastructure.
Leeza discovers the good the "Leech" mutation allows
them to do. (Leeza may not be the protag. in this latter part of
the story.) In fact, studying how such pairs
teleport/telemanipulate eventually leads to a functional FTL
drive, but that’s another story, several generations
after this one. ….Over time, these pairs become common in
the transportation industry, and such pairs are the only ones
able to navigate for the truly long haul starliners, those
traveling to far sectors of the galaxy parsecs distant from
Earth.
Copyright
© 1999 Sime~Gen Inc.
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