A few weeks ago I changed my settings so that the PM's alert my email, and it works okay. But sometimes they don't go to the email. I had 3 when I logged on today but I checked the email and there's no alert. any ideas?

Jivana wasn't really known for throwing big bashes.  At least not here in Moscow, but their new research facility and business branch's open would change that.  This was where Cruz would take the family business.  VP of RnD was not his title yet, but it was his as soon as he graduated from Moscow University.

And his grandfather had spend a pretty fortune on the new facility in the heart of Moscow.  All before his father betrayed him.  This was all planed and set in stone, and now Cruz was here.  Not that he didn't want to be here however, he loved Moscow, right in the center of the world where the most powerful people pushed and shoved to get the Ascendancy's attention.  Cruz had no desire for that, but the chance to learn from the greatest mind was something that he longed for.  He envied Nox in having met the man personally on several occasions. Though Nox didn't exactly think it was such a great thing, and his attitude probably had a lot to do with it, stupid Americans.

Though without Nox Cruz wouldn't be here.  He'd probably be dead.  It was Ivan who had helped him stay alive, but it was Nox who gave him the tools so he didn't blow himself up.  And that was more important than just surviving.

But now dressed in a brand new tux Cruz was first and foremost the heir to the Jivana throne - when his grand father retired, Cruz would get the mantle.  CEO of Jivana.  One of the most prestigious medical equipment and research facilities in the world. The Vega family legacy, and he was sole heir to it.

They were hosting the grand opening in the lower level of the new facility.  The lobby, and several conference rooms were dedicated to hosting special events to show case the technology and their research projects coming to the building upon it's final opening stages.  It was an open bar, mix and mingle type event.  Soft music played through the hidden speakers and there were presentations everywhere to be found.  Jivana was showing what it had to offer the community - not only projects but the wealth it brought to the city.  Not to mentioned the new jobs.

Cruz didn't sit at some table and wait.  He walked around the gathering at his grand father's side.  If he was a younger version of his father, Senior Vega was what he'd look like when he was that age.  There was no denying the family resemblance.

"Come Cruz, let's meet our guests."  Emilio Vega said as he straightened out the fabric of Cruz's lapels and they were out on the floor making a name for himself.

Beto sat at the bar nursing his drink, a Moscow Mule. Appropriate, he supposed. Irritation roiled in him. That, in itself, bothered him immensely. This was his first night out in days, the last few having been spent trying to regain his balance or composure. For his entire life, he had been a tight rope walker, balance pole shifting right, then left. One never got used to the tight rope, with its endless drop into oblivion always threatening. There were no nets here. But he had gotten used to it.

He had to, after all.

But now, it felt as if the rope had gotten thinner, the balance pole shorter. And there was a breeze. No. A gale. All of which was to say it had turned into a real struggle. A surprise, after 39 years of equilibrium.

Leviathans of the deep slowly but inexorably undulated upward from the depths, large miasmic bubbles of air already starting to break the surface. He could feel it. That walk was getting harder.

His eyes scanned the mirror at the bar, searching for someone. He wasn't sure what. He couldn't get Ana's face out of his mind. That day in the tattoo shop was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Not simply because he had been a virgin up until that point. Something had happened to him, something glorious and dangerous. He had been unlocked. He had seen the face of God.

Even now, despite the smells of smoke and alcohol, he could smell her, a heady cloud fogging his brain, could taste her on his tongue, sweeter still despite the vodka. Images of that day replayed in his mind, its violence and lust, dripping sweat stinging eyes, salty sweet nectar, bites to draw cries of pain, ecstasy and warmth and softness, hands and fingers gripping, squeezing tightly, muscles corded, gasps and wet humid breath commingled, tongues and teeth and lips, until he was simply unable to contain the entirety any longer. He had exploded. And for a moment time itself stopped.

He was in the void, outside himself and the universe. And God stood there, a presence he could only sense, there and not there, revealed in all its glory. And Beto wept in awe, smelling colors he could not imagine, tasting sounds beyond comprehension, an orgy of synesthesia that enveloped and embraced him filling him with meaning and understanding and purpose...

...that left him empty and lost, a dried out husk devoid of life when it stopped.

He hungered for it again. The craving gnawed at his mind, pushing and pulling him to this and that side of his rope.

Ana had disappeared. He had never even gotten her number. Sergei had not been forthcoming despite his best efforts. So far. He was getting desperate.

There were other girls, though. It had taken only a few tries before he found himself once again with a woman. But the experience was insipid, washed out. Dull. By the end he found himself fighting just to keep his interest going. Not that she had noticed. He had been in a frenzy by the end, chasing the sensation, the memory of Ana and God keeping him awake. Barely.

That happened two more times. He found himself lost, now, unsure of what had changed. Emotions and desires he had never before felt hounded him mercilessly.

It was a gaping mouth, an infinite pit of need. For 39 years, God had hidden from him. Beto couldn't let him hide again.

It had been a while since she had gone to the University to look up heart defeats.  It had been even more time since she posted the video looking for her family.  There had to be family.  But Sterling had heard nothing from anyone.  Not a peep from the web.  Again she'd gotten lost in the cracks.  Lost in the data of the world.

And even worse was she was dying in bed of a fever and chills.  She couldn't move.  Couldn't eat.  Sleep was even hard.  Not a thing in the world was working.  Her mother kept her on anti-inflammatories.  And she was drinking her weight in cold water.  The fever persisted.  

Sterling had a visit with her doctor.  He said nothing was wrong with her heart.  So they kept Sterling home from school.  She watched movies and read books.  Video games were too taxing.  Sometimes even holding the book was too much.  And not only was she alone in her room - she was under quarantine.  Parent initiated quarantine - nothing like a WHO investigation or anything like had been in the news.  Whatever had made Sterling sick wasn't related to her birth.  

But there was nothing she could do but sleep the pain and fever away.  Sleep was so hard when you were so drained, and hot and when it did come it was strange dreams filled with images she didn't understand.

(plans to become a PC)