The door is unlocked. It doesn't matter. The lock won't stop him; the door can't stop him. The leviathan, though ponderously slow, has too much power. He's too shrewd. I should know, I created him, a figment of my imagination.

Is he real?, you ask. Having written something like this before, for my shrink, and got locked in a padded room for 2 years, yes, they still have those, I won't sign my name.

Yes, it's as real as any of the other voices in my head. So many voices, demanding so many things, so confusing. But, occasionally, they all, accidentally, of course, charge off in the same direction. It's like the squirrel cage in my head creates a vortex that they cannot resist, and they all become as one, the leviathan.

Some time ago, I realised the the Advococy, in cahoots with ArcCorp, was trying to kill me. ArcCorp had bought them off. I know what you're thinking. Another paranoid conspiricy theory. So, this was how it was going to be done. They came in through the wireless system, so the tin foil hat didn't help. The anti spyware, virus protection and firewalls melted in an instant. I was in quantum drive one second and jump drive the next. Thank the void space is so empty, but it wasn't enough. An unknown moon, of some unknown planet, in an unnamed system loomed in front of me. There was no avoiding it at the speed I was traveling, as close as I was, but i managed to change the course of the ship enough to give me time to make it to an escape pod, directed towards space, instead of an uninhabitable moon where I would surely run out of oxygen before I was found.

Some scavs found me and took me along for the ride. It was better then freezing in the void, but not by much. Still, I wanted them to think they had succeeded. The false identity was first on my to do list; then transport via what ever dirty nondescript job I could find moving me towards Stanton. It took me a month to wash the stink from that garbage tub off me.

I've always been good at hardware, mobi programming and such, but I din't let on until I was on Stanton II, ArcCorp. They're always looking for someone to focus and align lasers in data tubes. Dirty places like ArcCorp traditionally have problems with the microscopic dust from the atmosphere getting into the data tubes. Regular cleaning and maintainance is absolutely necessary. It's a dirty job, but it was just what i needed.

After hacking their system, checking out their anti vurus, anti spy, and firewalls, I wrote a sleeper virus and laid it to rest it in their system, with a couple of seeds of distrust, pointed at a very specific target. Then I wrote a cure for just that virus, and wiped my cred holo from memory.

The first move was to steal a heap of sensitive and valuable info, then I quit my job, cleaned up and got a new identity. Easy enough, since there's not much security to get through to be a tube scrubber; no DNA or retnal scans, and the prints were faked. A trip to Hades, well known for some less scrupulous vendors, provided me with new creds, after selling certain sensitive and valuable items to info agent.

Back to Stanton II to sell my services to ArcCorp as the guy who could find the leak. There was a name, remembered from a deal gone sour, that had already been implicated by the virus program with mobi-mail sent to Hades, and a certain info agent who shall remain nameless. Yeah, he had been warned, got a head start, invented new creds and vioded hemself from the system. So, ArcCorp lavished me with creds to fix their sieve, and life was good, I thought.

Welcome to Spyder, the armpit of the galaxy. I have enough creds to live high in the spires of Sol, but the leviathan, no longer my leviathan, hunts me. It looks for my code, my signature, my creds, my name, and it comes in through the datatubes and the wireless, looking for me or my mobiglass, so locking the door won't help. It may be ponderous and slow, but it never stops and it never sleeps...