Preamble
Alternate realities are created by people's decisions.  Decisions create worlds and destroy others, because decisions matter.  I wrote "Paradise Falling" on the premise that Von Richter made a different decision than the one he made that created the Cybersix reality as depicted by the Animation and the comics of Carlos Meglia and Carlos Trillo.

The creation and destruction of worlds is not a trivial matter: Like the "Butterfly effect", where it is believed that the fluttering of a butterfly's wings in the spring could determine the number of hurricanes in the fall, a decision made in one part of the world by a complete stranger can affect whole peoples in another part.

This story is set years before the events of "Paradise Falling", but after Von Richter made the decision that created that world.  However, it is the story of a world where someone made a different decision, creating a completely new train of events that reached across a planet and would be felt for decades.  A decision that created a new world, a different reality, where the events of "Paradise Falling..." never took place.

Not because of the presence of someone, but by their absence.

So, while reading this story, I invite you to think and imagine.  Think of someone very close to you, who made an enormous impact on your life.  Imagine how bright your future is now, because that person was there for you.

Now imagine what, to you, is probably unthinkable.

Try to imagine how different, how alien, your life and your world would become if they never touched your life.  Not because they didn't love or care for you, but because they are...
 
 

The night wind blew across the rocky cliff, stirring the dust and sand.  Very few of those living within view of this high location bothered to visit this barren spot that was so high above the Amazon jungle.  And even if it was frequently visited (which it was not), it would certainly not be at night.  Thus, there was no one there to be astonished or surprised when the sounds of feminine panting and grunting drifted up from the cliff face.  Although the nearly full moon provided plenty of light, there was no one to see the hand that grabbed the jagged edge of the cliff face, to be followed by the owner.

It was a young girl of 17 years, dressed in a green sleveless t-shirt, camoflage pants, and boots.  She stood up, ran her fingers through the fall of hair that draped over the right side of her face, and looked over the jungle, back from where she had come.

Her eyes went to the complex of buildings, houses, factories, and laboratories taking up several hectares of the Amazon Jungle.  Her keen night vision ("Borrowed from the jungle owl" her father had told her and her siblings) was able to amplify the light from the small lamps and bulbs to make out the buildings.  Many were made of wood, but a few were poured concrete.  Her eyes picked out the large building where she and her brothers and sisters had been born from tanks that glowed green.  A smaller line of lights led into the dark jungle and ended in darkness: It was "lights out" at the barracks, where she should have been, collapsed in her cot, exhausted from the busy activiites in which she and her 3499 other siblings engaged.

But tonight was different: The drills and challenges that had taken place during the last 60 hours went way beyond the normal challenges that they all welcomed when the sun rose.  So challenging, and so different, that she couldn't sleep for wondering what the results would be.

At least, she knew what they would NOT be.  The bitterness of that knowledge kept her awake, and eventually drove her out of her barracks contrary to regulations, and up 400 meters to this lonely spot.

Officially, they had been told that there was going to be a sort of officer corps, to be chosen from the top 2 percent of the first batch of 500 siblings.  Based on the results of the tests given in the last few days, at most 10 of her siblings would be given what was being called "Leadership Ranking".  From them would come the core of the instructor corps.  They would take over from the aging officers who had volunteered to train what would be the finest troop of soldiers on the planet.  That was the Official Word.

Unofficially, something much more important came to light.  Father had been working on a project that could improve them, making them even stronger, quicker, and faster!  A sister of hers, who worked occasionally with one of Von Richter's top co-workers, had overheard two members of the technical staff discussing the project in the hallway outside the lab she was cleaning up.  They walked away moments later, wondering out loud who would volunteer.

Everyone who heard this news wanted to volunteer.  After some heated arguments, it was she who proposed the perfect solution.

Thus it was that all the Cyber children of Dr. Maximillian Von Richter agreed that the one to take first place in the coming selection process for Leadership Ranking would be the volunteer.

This Cyber, the sixth one born, looked up at the stars for a few long minutes, then dropped down heavily on the cliff edge, letting her legs dangle over the edge so that all she could see was jungle.  And her home.

A few moments later, she couldn't see any of that as she cried, releasing all the pain and frustration of the last few days.

It wouldn't be so bad if she came in consistenly as number 300 or less in all the trials, maybe occasionally coming in in the top 100.  Everyone was good at something.  Only thing was, she kept winding up in the top four in almost all of the trials, only to be denied first place by a fraction of a second, a few centimeters, a trick move, a wrong turn, one almost-right-but-not-perfectly-correct choice,

The first few times weren't that bad.  In fact, the joy of seeing her roommate, Cyber Seven, come in first despite being the runt of the first batch of 500 cybers, easily swept away the bitterness of losing.  "I'm just warming up!" she kept telling herself, "I came close this time!  If she can win, then I can too!"  So she went on to the next test, the next challenge, the next contest, even more determined to succeed.

Her attitude changed as the hours wore on.  To always come in so close, only to see  someone else walk away with the top spot, would take a toll on anyone.  The human instructors wrote only one number down on their clipboards before curtly announcing the next challenge.  The number "7" kept appearing over and over, with a smattering of others, but never "6".

Outwardly, nobody seemed to notice the taut lips, the glaring eyes, the knitted brow that concealed the growing bitterness and anger inside: All were expected to be good sports, and crying was for babies, and cybers never cried in the tanks when they were babies.  But as Seven's wins piled up, her smiles faded and the concern grew in her eyes.  Seven knew, as well as she did, how often her sister and roommate came so close, only to come up short in some way or another.  She HAD to know!  Cybersix knew she couldn't hide the anger, frustration, and bitterness.  Certainly from the instructors, probably from her mother, but not from Seven.

The last challenge, and the most heartbreaking, was the endurance trial, where they ran 40 kilometers, picked up a tag, and come back to the Compound with it.  Cybersix happily snagged tag number 1, leading her tired siblings by several hundred meters, and passed Seven on the way back, who was behind by two kilometers.  As she leaped, ran, and doged through the jungle, mind alert for obstacles, she momentarily forgot the pain of the last 48 hours.

Three kilometers from the finish line, she heard a cackle like sparks of electricity.  A vicious stab of searing pain shot through her left arm as she realized, to her horror, that she had pushed herself so  hard to come so close so many times, that she'd burned her sustenance concentration down to dangerous, if not fatal, levels.

Gritting her teeth and refusing to even whimper, she pushed on, only to have her left leg start to spark  and spasm also.  She missed landings, stumbled over mere twings, and lost precious seconds willing the pain away and forcing the protesting muscles to keep going.

She never made it.  Several hundred meters from the finish line, she fainted in mid-leap and fell to the ground, writhing and flopping about like a beached fish, as if being tortured by the green lightningbolts dancing over her limbs.  It took eight cybers from the second batch to hold her down long enough for a ninth to pour three vials of sustenance down her throat.  She woke up an hour later in the infirmary, the tag still clutched in her right hand, and a line of instructors and Techno doctors at her bedside, ready to take turns to chew her out for her carelessness, with a vocabulary that was broad, blue, vivid, and humiliating.

She limped in to the cafeteria late, but not late enough to catch sight of Seven and the other winners seated at the front table with her parents.  She had to satisfy her hunger with cold leftovers snatched between sessions of cleaning the dishes alongside the native servants, the normal punishment for coming in late.

Cheeks red and head bent, she limped back to the barracks, went straight to her cot, got in, pulled the covers over her head, and fought a battle against her tears which, to her comfort, she did win.  She stayed there until lights out, pretending to be asleep when she heard Seven's anxious voice asking if she, Six, was okay.

"Stupid little bitch!" she had thought angrily, "She SHOULD know I'm not okay!"

Sleep refused to come and give comfort, which made her even more irritated with herself.  Defiant, bitter, and angry, she violated the rules and sneaked out through the window, evading the cameras easily.  Goody Two-shoes Seven would undoubtedly report her, but her sibling looked so exhausted in her cot that she was sure she wouldn't notice until morning.  She planned to be back long before then.

And here she was, 400 meters above the jungle floor in one of the rare outcroppings of rock that formed mesas in the middle of the otherwise flat Amazon jungle, giving up the battle against her feelings and crying as if her heart was breaking.

Cybersix wiped her soaked cheeks and looked up at the Milky Way, her night vision making it an even more glorious and beautiful sight than what normals would perceive, "Well, that DID feel better," she admitted aloud to herself, "Maybe a good cry DOES help once in a while."

That little concession opened the way for others.  "I overcommitted myself, trying to do my best in everything without thinking about what I was REALLY the best at," she thought, "I should have backed off and conserved my physical and emotional energy for those critical contests that really mattered.  Seven, being the runt of the batch, always has to plan ahead and budget her energy carefully all the time as a matter of course to even get through the day.  Which, of course, explains why she's the #1 strategist in our batch: She may have been #1 a few more times than the others, but when she wasn't #1, she was #400 or less, conserving her strength for the next contest where she had her best chance of winning."

She sighed gustily, "That's me," she admitted aloud to the moon and the Milky Way, "I have to get my butt kicked once before I figure out how to keep it from getting kicked the second time."

She sat there for a few minutes longer, then got up, ready to head back to the barracks.

Something flickered over the moon.  "An eagle." she thought, glancing upwards to see it against the starry background.

But it was far too high to be an eagle, and didn't move its wings.  Her eyes picked out another shadow against the starry night, then another, "What kind of birds are those?" she thought, following the trio that seemed to be flying in formation.  Her eye then caught another.  Four.  Four shadows flying through the night.

Suddenly, a faint star seemed to shine from each one, as if each held a flashlight in its claws, as they neared the zenith and slowed down.   Cybersix blinked, "What in the world?"

A flash of light from the jungle pulled her attention away from the high flying shadows and toward a small, rapidly expanding yellow cloud.  There was another flash, and an orange cloud suddenly appeared and began to expand.

Terror suddenly grabbed at Cybersix's heart and squeezed it tight: the shadows weren't birds, but high flying aircraft!  The stars were the lights inside them when their bomb bay doors opened, and the clouds were coming from bombs with altitude fuses!  Her mind rapidly went to an aside made by an instructor during a lecture on airpower: "One thing you'll have to watch for is the banned use of chemical weapons.  There are all kinds.  The newest kind is the most dangerous.  It's normally unstable, so the ingredients are kept in separate bombs and dropped from separate aircraft.  If you see a yellow cloud, run like hell!  When you see an orange one, you'll be lucky if you live long enough to kiss your ass goodbye."

There were more flashes, and more clouds.  The lights of the compound shone through the swirling clouds as the entire floor of the jungle was carpeted, although it was hard to tell whether the swirling was coming from the clouds or from the tears of the Cyber as she helplessly watched her family being quietly slaughtered in their sleep.

The flashes stopped and the shadows passed overhead, but the yellow and orange clouds stayed, continuing to mix together and do their deadly work.  Cybersix just stood frozen, numb with shock and loss.  The urge to throw herself over the cliff in despair screamed in her head.

The wind blew gently at her cheek, shocking her back to reality.  She forced herself to stop, think, and analyze.  She gazed at the clouds, trying not to think of the dead bodies underneath that had been so alive that afteroon.  She concentrated on the billowing, swirling mass.

Think.  Analyze.

The clouds were slowly, but perceptibly, moving east.

Instinct and programming immediately took over, forcibly shoving the grief to the background.  To the east lay some of the tribal villages who sent teams of workers in shifts to work at the Compound in exchange for money and goods.  The men and women who had tactfully said nothing while she washed the dishes with them that afternoon were now dead, but their families lived in those villages!

Cybersix turned and leaped alongside the mesa to the easternmost point.  From there, she would scramble down, head through the jungle, get to the villages ahead of the drifting death cloud, and get them out of there!

She arrived at the edge that looked the most broken down, and thus the easiest to get down quickly.  As she spun around so as to jump backwards over the edge, she glanced up and saw a bright star flicker noticeably.

"I'll get you!" she muttered under her breath to the departing bombers, "I don't give a damn that you're normals, I'm going to KILL you for this!"

She dropped over the edge, plunged 20 meters, broke her fall by grabbing at an outcrop, paused, and then let go...

"Yes, I'll get you!" she thought, reaching out to grab at the next outcrop, "If its the last thing I do, I'm going to get you!"

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