A loud motorbike sound is tearing through the grey Tuesday afternoon. A young girl on a red Kawasaki Ninja is bolting down the straight of a dual carriage motorway. Glued behind her is a police Range Rover in pursuit. She can hear its sirens slowly creeping closer.

"Dammit, today off all days the cops are on the ball !".

Her perl white teeth are shining as she swears under her red and black helmet. Cold sweat runs down her spine. Her leg muscles are screaming in pain from her clinging to the bike. She ducks low behind the small wind guard. The guard gives her relief from the ripping force of the rushing air. However, it is still hard to hold on at this illegal speed. Boiling anxiety tries to rise up her throat. To keep her rising panic in check she tries to focus and forcefully scans her surroundings.

An exit is coming up fast. Should she get off the motorway? It is likely that the cops have setup a patrol car to intercept her at the next exit. Even considering the slim chances of breaking through that road block, she is unfamiliar with this area. This gives her little confidence that she can outrun the arm of the law there. If she takes this exit her only chance is to ditch the bike and hide somewhere hoping that she won't be found. Not that she considers her chances to outrun her pursuer on the motorway to be much higher either. However, there is a lot more room on a dual carriage way with hard shoulders for a her bike. After a moment of hesitation she grinds her teeth and twists decisively on the throttle. In sharp contrast to the anxious driver the bike is giving out a satisfying roar and instantly the girl can feel the acceleration rummaging pleasantly around in her gut.

Out of her peripheral vision she notices temporary traffic signs for road works. However, her main focus is on the flashing blue lights of the rover getting smaller in her rear view mirror. She does not yet allow herself to feel relieved. She cranes her head to check above for any air support police. Fortunately, she can only make out the low hanging grey clouds. She is grateful for the aggressive grey clouds with their apparent large stock of rain. Because in this weather air support is probably difficult. However, she cannot discount that the helicopter is on its way though. Once it has you in its sight outrunning the police is probably impossible. But she is determined not to go back, ultimately determined .. never to go back no matter what.

Some more temporary traffic signs are flying by. She noticed that the traffic is getting thicker. This is good news! The cops cannot weave through a column of cars like a motorbike can. Her pursuers have fallen further behind now. Her chances to escape have suddenly increased because of the traffic jam ahead. But lady luck is fickle and favours turn fast. Unexpectedly, hidden behind a row of tall trucks the traffic switches into a counter flow using red and white road blocks. Blood drains from her face as she realised that she is heading for a sharp turn. A white and red plastic road barrier enters her field of view in front of her.

"Nrgghhh".

There is only a slim chance to make this tight turn. She takes it. Yet the bike is still too fast to negotiate it. She pulls hard on the brakes. The wheels shudder under her and she moans in terror whilst struggling to keep control of the bike. The only way forward is a single narrow gap between the barrier and a long flat bed trailer. She notices the familiar feeling of dirt on the road crunching under the wheels. Right on queue, the tires loose traction. And before she could compensate her back wheel is breaking out.

She screams unconsciously as she realises that she can only choose between being mauled by the twin wheels of the truck or crashing into the temporary traffic barricade and then getting mauled. Looking at the spinning truck tire she chooses option 3, launching herself over the road barrier. She stands up on the bike and readies herself for the impact.

Time slows down.

A heartbeat later the bike hits the barricade. She aims for the space above the barrier and in this weightless state clears easily over it. Then, whilst being hurled uncontrollably through the air, a large digger is entering her path. Before that though, she hits the ground. Like a pebble on a puddle, she skips over the ground. Her leather gear protects her skin from being ripped off but she can feel every bump punching her back like a fist. Seemingly without slowing down she hits a soft patch when her body starts spinning around its axis. The helmet hits the ground several times with hard thuds and eventually develops cracks. Already getting dizzy she can see the shovel getting bigger and more threatening. Wailing her arms and legs she tries to change her trajectory. The shovel grows rapidly in her view with the claws scraping on the ground. Her body hits and she hears a loud crack transmitted through her skull. The immense pain swallows her scream and then she looses consciousness.

Naturally, the accident disrupted the work for the road works. The contractor has emergency services on site which are quickly deployed. However, they can only pronounce her dead at the scene of the accident. In the post mortem examination the doctor identifies the cause of death as blunt force trauma.

He established that the trauma is caused by multiple impact with the ground breaking several bones in her body. Death was the result of the final hit against a massive digger shovel that cracked through the skull.

After completing the examination the doctor nods to the technician who proceeds to move her body to the holding storage and then starts cleaning the examination area.

Back in his office sitting at his desk the doctor stares at the form for a while bouncing the tip of the biro on the documents. Then he adds to the remarks column that the body has a large amount of bruising and some fresh fractures that predate the accident.

This is where the story of the 15 year old Charlotte Kircher, daughter of the CEO of an industry leading company, aspiring teacher, described as friendly, lively and generous story ends. For better or worse Charlotte Kircher is dead, perished, expired, Earth to earth, ashes to ashes and all that. Yet, it would have surprised her to learn that her fate is still undecided 5 days later.

# # #

It is all because of an unusual 5-year-old boy. Before their fateful first encounter he is waiting alone in a treatment room normally used by the fracture clinic of the hospital. He is not a patient, nor a health care worker or doctor. Most people, his parents included see himself just a as child. But for a special branch of the government, he is a civilian contractor.

Whilst waiting for his handler to pick him up for his next gig, Mar is currently engaged in a lacklustre conversation. The office is a featureless white and normal consultant room. More important from a security point of view the room is easy defensible with no outside wall, no windows and bad access. Mar idly wonders if the room is a better as treatment room or death trap.

He yawns and then itches his nose. He can still detect the sickly sweet smell of illness that collected in the badly ventilated room.

"Hey, Mr. Secret Agent. Are you tired? Do you have another long day?” a disembodied mechanical voice is talking. The monotonous, mechanical and almost robotic voice seems to come from the hospital's desktop computer.

Irritated by the smell Mar scrunches his nose and wipes it several times using his arm like a violin bow. The itchy smell is making his eyes run and he makes a groaning sound. Inwardly, he cursed the hospital staff that attempted their best to spruce up the room despite the short notice of his visit.

The well meaning staff brought in some plants and a fish tank to make the boy's visit more pleasant. But they chose the wrong plants making them suffer under the artificial light. And the fish were ill from being moved hastily.

Mar cannot stand the smell of suffering and had immediately instructed the security staff to remove everything biological. He is keenly aware of the suffering throughout the hospital but right now the smell in the room is irritating him the most.

Without finding relief, he sighs. "Yes, I am very tired. What time is it now?"

"Midnight, it is the witches hour". This time the mechanical voice cackles from the phone on the table. Then in a more questioning tone the voice asks. "Are you cancelling my sound again? I cannot feel my echo.”

Mar nods since he erased all sounds in the room from reality. Security is airtight again and he is under full observation. When he opens his mind, he can feel the presence of his 12 body guards outside the door and at strategic positions around the building. He somehow knows about the 4 gun ships on standby in the nearby field and the two fighter jets circling above the clouds. And from his handler he knows that elite armed forces are on standby with an ETA of less than 5 minutes. In fact he can hear the constant shower of white noise like a badly tuned TV from all around him.

He yawns again. "Yes, I am muffling your and my voice. The good doctor has installed surveillance everywhere again. He even tricked me into swallowing a locate beacon that will start broadcasting in about an hour. I am still not sure if this is the usual treatment for a VIP or a prisoner on death row".

He smirks at the thought that despite his handlers best efforts he can still ensure some privacy. It is because of these abilities and more that the boy's existence is classified beyond top secret ever since he was made to join this secret government department.

His handler dressed him up for the part of the nerdy genius in a suit with centrally parted black flat hair. He is sitting in a posture of authority of an adult in the consultant’s chair with his arms on the arm rest and his legs crossed. He looks like an evil genius out of a action movie. If he were to stroke a fat cat perched on his lap the cliché framed shot would be complete.

"So, get rid of the beacon if you don't like it."

"Already done. It is resting in another cadaver in the morgue.". He smirks but then sighs. "I am fed up with this. Tomorrow I was meant to have a day off. But that's down the drain now.".

He stands up and walks a few steps in the small room idly looking through a wall.

Mar added quietly, "I would have endured it if he had given serious consideration to my request to spend some time playing with other kids. But he turned it into the playdate from hell by making the parents sign the waver that we will kill the children if any secrets were to be leaked. How can I have a play date like that.".

"Humans are such a bother. They are so possessive. I got an idea. Get rid of them. Then you can finally have a good nights sleep.", coming yet from another place, the speaker above the door.

Mar looked at the blue plastic chair perched against the consultants desk probably intended for the patients. He thinks the black consultants chair, the blue patient chair and vinyl white table really don't match.

Out of idle thought his finger touches the patient chair. From the point of contact ripples of black waves move until the colour of the patient chair changes its colour completely. He glanced from the side at the reflections on the now black plastic chair seat. He flicked the seat a few more times gradually changing the shade and texture of the black colour. Eventually he nods satisfied. Then he runs his finger along the desk edge gently changing the colour to a more suitable perl white.

"I tried that already. But it was too lonely after a while. And when I finally did change my mind it was such a bother to resurrect everyone afterwards. I am still not 100% sure I didn't forget someone. And, please, stick to one device. It is confusing when you sound all over the place."

"Sure, you are the boss. So, who is next tonight?” the mechanical voice asks back from the desktop computer.

"No one of importance. Just a 15-year-old motorbike accident fatality and daughter of a CEO. From what I gather my service appears to create a backdoor for bypassing another countries export laws for classified technology."

He looks up to the door. Shortly afterwards, a knock on the door interrupts their conversation.

"It is time. Please follow me".

Mar's handler, a middle aged man, almost bald in a white lab coat is standing in the door. Behind him are two armed guards. Mar followed them without comment. Tonight's chosen place is the hospital morgue. A befitting place for the time of day, Mar thought. Being this close to the dead inspires all kind of weird thoughts and puts a chill to the current small group of people attending the appointment despite a comfortable 23C inside.

The naked lifeless body of a young girl is resting on the trolley, cold and stiff from the cooler. Her limbs are set into their natural position and she looks washed and cleaned. But the broken bones and the absence of a large part of her face as a result of metal tearing into bone are disturbing. Her chest is roughly sown closing the incisions of the autopsy. Her brain is missing. It ruined the otherwise sensual picture.

"Wow, she is gorgeous. Look at her rack! Do you think the undertaker padded them a bit?” the shameless mechanical voice coming from the tannoy speaker notes in excitement. Mar made sure only he can hear it. "So the old geezer is trading in a sample of a deadly Ebola virus with the potential to wipe out whole cities for the life of his delinquent daughter?"

Mar nods but does not know much more about the accident.

"She is -- well was, a lively girl with a bright future and huge potential to lead a worthwhile life."

The influential CEO is praising his daughter with wet eyes. Worse than seeing a grown man reduced to tears is the feeling of emptiness, guilt and loss like a wall of stones crushing the father, Mar thought.

"What a load of BS. A 15-year-old teenager getting hold of a bike and even getting chased by police. No doubt daddy's girl was rebelling or was seeking attention. The latter is more likely going by the guilty look on the fathers face. But what teenager doesn't.” the mechanical voice comments.

"There is probably more to it. She wore a high quality motorbike outfit. This is unusual unless someone of her family or friends rode frequently with her on the back. And she is known to accompany her father at public functions.” Mar is mumbling under his breath. He was briefed with some pictures about the accident.

"Oh you mean there is someone with brains behind this operation that put the girl in harm's way? Thereby putting a major weapons manufacturer on the payroll of a government that can heal fatalities?” the mechanical voice commented.

Mar does not have any say in the selection of the lucky recipients of his service. The host is the interior ministry offering this service in exchange for 'influence'. His handler used well oiled phrases such as "common good" and "best interests of the country" to justify the choices.

"Everyone, please step back from the body. Baldr, please step forward.” his handler, doubling as the attending doctor, announced. Baldr, a name borrowed from Norse mythology was Mar's code name.

"Oh well, it's probably not the girls fault.” the voice says.

Mar nods again as he steps onto a footstool to reach the corps. After he slips into some throw away gloves he places both his hands on the girls voluptuous breast near the heart. The CEO gasps and stares at him uncomfortably. It can't be helped, Mar thought, as he smells the angry feelings of a protective father. After taking a couple of deep breaths he pushes down hard on the somewhat soft bulge and puts his energy into his hands. Like inflating a balloon inside the body he starts with a small bubble of light around the heart inside her chest that grows gradually until the light fills the whole of the corps.

In his mind Mar is tracking back to find this body in the past of this world at a time just before she hits the temporary barricade. Stretching and bending the copy from that moment until it fits the resting corps he rewrites the current reality with the copied pattern. This takes a few minutes whilst Mar replaces the distorted head and body on the slab and returns it to their natural and healthy form. Without taking his hands off Mar covers his eyes with his elbow. Then a sudden flash of light flares up around the body. When it subsides the repaired and revitalised body is left behind. After being blinded it takes a few seconds for the participants to notice that the girl on the slap is gently breathing as if asleep. Her previously battered body is miraculously and completely restored. Her twin hills sensual raising and falling, wiggling slightly in the process.

"She is sleeping now. Please let her rest until she wakes up on her own", Mar says as he pulls a sheet over the girl.

"Her vitals are good,” said the doctor after a cursory medical inspection, "She can be moved now.”

"Number 26 revived. It's a girl! Congratulations daddy.” the mechanical voice spoke in sarcasm from the direction of the wall speaker to Mar.

"This is it for tonight", his handler announces quietly to Mar after the family left with the girl to a private hospital for observation. Mar is lead out of the room and out of the building into a waiting car. His alarm clock shows 3:15 in the morning by the time he arrives back into his room. Next to his bed is a hot cup of chocolate already waiting for him. He quietly undresses and falls asleep instantly into a dreamless sleep before even taking a sip.

# # #

"Mar, wake up", with the background music of the a mechanical voice sounds from an analog radio next to him.

His speaking companion wakes him up at the usual time. Before even opening his eyes he decided to enjoy a day of downtime. Unfortunately by himself, but downtime was downtime, he says to himself.

"Today is downtime, I'll sleep in.", he mumbles pulling a pillow over his head.

"Boy, are you in for a surprise", it says.

On that Mar opens his eyes to find his situation has unexpectedly and drastically changed. Usually he wakes up in some VIP suite in some hotel. However, he is in a small and simple bedroom. His room is not much bigger than the small bed he is resting on. Also, he is not alone. Then a warm hand is gently touching his cheek.

Following the hand and the arm he finds the face of a pale looking older lady smiling down on him. She is in her fifties in elegant clothes sitting on the only chair in the room. Beyond the frail body two terminally sad eyes are looking at him with a dead smile. The lady speaks to him as she removes her gentle hand from his face. Not just her but the room around him, the noises, smells and everything else is unfamiliar to Mar.

"Where am I?", he asks. "And who are you? ".

"Please do not be alarmed. You are safe for now. I am an old friend of your family and will look after you for a short while. You can call me Claire."

Mar crunched his nose. Annoyed, he is using his 'gift', to look back at the events of this morning. He watches his fast asleep self being lifted out of his bed, wrapped up warm and then transported in secret to the current place. He can feel the sadness and relief of his mom and dad watching him as he is carried away by a stranger.

The disembodied mechanical voice chimes in from the analogue radio next to him. "Mar, your mother left you a message. Do you want me to play it ?".

Mar nods and the voice changes to reflect his mothers speech pattern:

"Good bye and please be safe Mar. Do not let us know where you are and how you are doing. If all goes well, we will not see you again. We have set explosives around the building to cover your tracks and to make it look like a terrorist attack. I hope that we can convince everyone here that you have died to stop the endless stream of bodies brought before you as well as the people trying to exploit your gift for their gain. Keep a low profile, hide your gift and yourself in this new anonymity. Build a simple life worth living rather than the hell you are in right now. Your dad and I love you very much and will always remember you. "

"How are you feeling ?", Claire asks pulling him out of his concentration unaware of this exchange.

"Confused and disoriented", Mar answers.

"I see. That cannot be helped. This is the start of a new life for you after all."

"Mar, the old woman is sick and will kick the bucket soon.". As usual in a disrespectful tone, the mechanical voice says through the analogue radio speaker.

"You are dying?", Mar asks after a brief look at Claire.

"Yes".

"I can heal you.", Mar says. After looking at her he realises a profound connection to her. Indeed, he recalls restoring her pattern several months ago. She was one of the first clients of his latest handler.

"Please don't. You may have forgotten already but we have met once before. For the help that day I am incredibly grateful. Your little gift to me is too precious to just waste it on old age. I much rather want to return the favour. After your disappearance some resourceful as well as desperate people will come looking for you and will not stop at anything. So allow me this last service that my troublesome illness can provide to you by giving you a new life using my own means."

He can feel that the person sitting in front of him has a fatal brain tumor at the last stage. He doesn't need to look into the woman's past to understand that a second chance in life does not guarantee happiness. He can feel the sheer brute force that keeps her going carving out that little bit of time needed to achieve her purpose.

"I am very grateful that you are so considerate but I can just erase your memory.".

"I doubt I am allowed to stay alive once your pursuers catch up with me. Especially when my memory is erased."

"You bet, old lady. Whoever tracks you down will not stop until you are dead. Talking to Mar right now is like sitting in your personal electrical chair and flicking the switch.", the mechanical disembodied voice commented to Mar.

Mar sighs. He was born as a regular boy. However, recently he become aware that his mind contains more than just the memory of the person he is right now. Despite his biological age he was can draw on memories and experiences spanning more than just a few lifetimes. Drawing on these memories he reluctantly agrees with her conclusion. Even if the logic behind her human sacrifice is correct it it is very difficult to stomach for him. His mind is clear but his heart hurts. Not knowing what to say he puts his hand on hers in her lap.

The mechanical voice interrupts. "Ehm, … I am very sorry. You were asking me to keep a lookout and it turns out that your pursuers no longer expected you to make contact in a way that can be traced by them. Your parents just got killed to avoid any further information leak, Mar.", the disembodied mechanical voice tells him without any warning. His shoulders shiver and tears start running down his face.

Mar reached out to find them in the present and is aware of their bodies. He found his father had already passed away a few seconds ago. His mother is just clinging onto her life for a few more moments and he listened to her last message to him.

"Please, please find us in your next life.", she says then passed away.

Mar's tears are raining down on his hands. His shoulders slump down and his posture crumbles. Claire is looking at him surprised as she is unaware of this new information. Then she understands.

"Your parents ? That was fast. I guess it is already time for you to move on.".

Mar can only nod. She takes Mar's shoulders and pulls him into her embrace and strokes his head. Somewhere inside his pain Mar also realises that despite knowing Claire only for a few minutes, she is now his last friend alive in this world. And that unique privilege is also now a death sentence. The only remaining people that know about him are his pursuers. And on top of all that, he is asked to kill his last remaining friend as a show of kindness. The death of his parents, the realisation of his circumstances and the uncertainty of his future are too much for him. Clinging onto Claire, he bawled miserably into her chest for a long time.

Eventually, he is exhausted. His head somewhat cleared he becomes aware again of Claire's situation.

"Sorry, I made you all wet. It must be hard on you too. Please, have this little treat as a small token of appreciation to help with the pain", he says with a helpless voice.

He held her hands tightly and then he bathes her mind in happiness. As if stung by electricity Claire sits bolt upright with a huge smile on her face and her eyes looking blissfully into the distance.