"I keep my ideals, because is spite of everything I still believe people 

are really good at heart." ~ Anne Frank (1929-1945)







Sleeper



By: Masked Maiden



Chapter One: Good News







Four Years Later

Fall, 2004



It was an odd sensation.  The erupting chaos surrounded Dr. Furuhata 

Motoki, and yet he stood in stillness.  It was as if he were detached 

from the world, watching everything happen on a grand stage as he sat 

on a star in the abyss of the universe.  Then a surge of emotions 

swelled in his heart and Motoki was back in reality.  He felt 

incompetent, unprepared for something that wasn't predicted or even 

thought of.  It didn't matter, however, if he was ready or not.  

Devastation struck Tokyo that afternoon, and Tokyo Memorial Hospital 

was in the center of it all.



The trauma center at Memorial had been informed minutes ago that a 20-

car pile up had occurred only four blocks away from the hospital.  A 

road-raged driver swerved to the right lane to pass a car in front of 

him and collided into a charter bus filled with members of a high 

school marching band headed for a competition.  Neighboring medical 

centers would relieve Memorial as much as they possibly could, but most 

of the casualties would be transported by ambulance to Memorial's 

facilities.  There was little time to warn the staff members.  Fire 

alarms were initiated throughout the hospital.  The switchboard 

operator made the announcement of a Code Blue over the intercom and for 

the occupants in other departments to remain stationed unless told 

otherwise.  Each member of the emergency medical staff scurried in an 

"orderly" fashion to their positions.  And among the staff was Motoki, 

a third year resident at the hospital.  He stood outside the emergency 

department in the harsh winds, waiting with several other physicians 

and nurses for the first batch of casualties to arrive.



A nurse happened to ask, "Where is Dr. Chiba?"



At that very moment two ambulances arrived at Memorial.  The driver of 

one of the ambulances hopped out and hurried to assist her co-workers 

in the back of the vehicle.  The doors flung open and the paramedics 

burst forth.  Motoki and the chief physician for the emergency 

department rushed over to help.  The gurney was lowered to the ground.  

Motoki immediately recognized the patient.



"Oh God…"



It was Mamoru.



One of the paramedics started rambling off medical jargon as he and his 

co-workers wheeled the patient into the emergency room.  "Patient is an 

unresponsive 28-year-old male involved in an MVA with seat belt on.  

Severe head trauma due to massive concussion with noted skull 

deformations.  There's lot of bruising and scrapes and deformities 

noted on the ribs along with a deformity of the right brachial.  BP is 

165 over 80, heart is tachy, Glasgow level of two and pulse/ox of 96 

with slight hyperventilation."



To Motoki the hastened information nearly went through one ear and out 

the other.  He was frozen in space once more as he stared at his best 

friend, Mamoru, who must have been coming back to the hospital after 

his lunch break.  When the road-raged driver crashed into the bus, it 

caused a chain reaction.  Mamoru and 18 other drivers crashed as well.  

Now Mamoru was strapped to the flat board, a brace around his neck to 

prevent mobilization in case of spinal injuries.  A mask covered his 

mouth as the nurse pumped a plastic bag attached to it to steady his 

breathing.  And the blood… the blood seemed to be coming from 

everywhere, a flowing red stream running down the side of his head and 

stains all over his white and ripped shirt.  It was a nightmare come to 

life. 



And then like popping a balloon, Motoki was back in reality once more.  

"Any signs of internal bleeding?" he asked one of the paramedics.



"It's possible, but none that we could tell."



"All right."  He addressed the RN next to him.  "Red-tag him, have a 

CBC, chem. 7 and type/cross-match ordered along with an IV solution and 

O negative blood.  Also I want head, chest, and neck films taken to 

check for any more deformities.  Let's intubate him and check for any 

signs of internal bleeding.  Which trauma rooms are open?"



A nurse informed, "Room Three is open."



"Then let's wheel him in."



As the paramedics left, the two doctors and two nurses each took a 

corner of the gurney and wheeled their patient into the closest trauma 

room that was vacant.  One the count of three they lifted unconscious 

Mamoru from the gurney to the table and unstrapped him, though the neck 

brace remained.  



30 long and unproductive minutes passed.  The nurses soon left the 

trauma room, snapping off their vinyl gloves and throwing them into the 

biohazard wastebasket.  The second doctor patted Motoki on the shoulder 

and followed the nurses right afterwards.  That left Motoki alone in an 

unnatural silence.  He stared at his best friend lying lifelessly 

before him, and he wondered what he was going to do next.



"Boy I'd hate to know you were my doctor if this actually happened!" 



Motoki, somewhat ticked off, stepped closer to the table and kicked 

under it.  "You know," he fumed, "you could have told me you were doing 

this today!  I almost had a heart attack when I saw you!" 



Chiba Mamoru laughed without hesitance at his friend.  He sat up, 

bloody mess and all, with a large grin on his face.  "I wanted you to 

get the full experience," he explained.  "You know, get a reaction out 

of you; make it more realistic."



Gradually the news wafted through the emergency department like a sweet 

aroma.  Tokyo Memorial Hospital's biannual disaster drill was 

officially over.  Everyone soon resumed their usual activities. 



Mamoru arose and took off the neck brace, laying it on the table.  "I 

happened to think it was hilarious," he said.  "When your face turned 

white it took all the strength I had not to laugh."



"Well call me a bit absurd, but drill or no drill, I find no humor in 

seeing a friend near death," Motoki pointed out.  "You could have at 

least warned me."



"It's not like it's the first time I've been dead."



"No, nor the second time, or the third time, or the fourth…" 



"I get the picture."  Mamoru handed the neck brace to Motoki and walked 


toward the door.



"Hey, where are you going?" Motoki inquired.



His friend answered, "I'm going home."



"What for?"



Mamoru shrugged his shoulders.  "I honestly have no idea.  Usako called 

me this morning and said she needed to talk with me… in person.  So I'm 

using my lunch break to go home.  I'll probably be back in an hour, 

though."



Motoki raised an eyebrow.  "If Usagi-chan called you and said she had 

to speak with you, you're going to be gone for more than an hour.  She 

wouldn't call you unless it was serious."



"I know, and that's made me worried.  



"Well, perhaps it's not as terrible as you think.  Who knows?  Maybe 

she has good news instead of bad news."  Motoki said goodbye to Mamoru 

and then left the trauma room, continuing with his afternoon rounds.



Mamoru watched Motoki turn the corner and then headed for the doctor's 

lounge, closing the door behind him.  He took out another set of 

clothes from his locket.  When he changed Mamoru grabbed his wallet, 

car keys, and cell phone and left Tokyo Memorial Hospital.  He had lied 

to Motoki.  Or at least, he gave Motoki the parts of truth that he 

wanted him to know.  Usagi did call him that morning, but he knew the 

reason why.  He was leaving early, but he had no intentions of 

returning until tomorrow at the usual time.  Mamoru wanted to spend the 

rest of the day with his wife, no matter what they found out when he 

arrived home.  



~*~*~



1990 marked a milestone for the populace of South Africa: the walls of 

apartheid began to crumble and fall down.  Inequality, the savage beast 

that fed off its hosts' hearts and clawed their innocent victims, was 

finally put to death.  



The oppressed, the persecuted, and the imprisoned were all liberated 

and freed from their bondage, a bondage that lasted for nearly 300 

years.  All citizens were now seen equals under the law, regardless of 

their skin color.  And most importantly, they were gradually being seen 

as equals through the eyes of those that once bound them.  It was the 

miracle so many had prayed for.  And without faith, it would have been 

impossible.



After apartheid's fall, great changes were promised to the black 

communities.  Society supposedly erased and washed its background, but 

just how much change could is sustain?  Yes, promises were fulfilled 

for many, but a ten-fold more had yet to receive any reparation.



Really, what was to be expected?  For three centuries the whites 

oppressed the blacks in their own native land.  It would take more than 

14 years for all the wrongs to be made right, which in reality wasn't 

even remotely possible.  If things got to the point where only small 

pockets of intolerance existed, then perhaps all was not done in vain.  

But the lives of the innocent that died for what they believed in, or 

for whatever the reason, could never be replaced. 



Dr. Thilivhali Krynauw knew that too well.  He lost a brother and an 

uncle in the fight against apartheid.  His mother and his father were 

beaten by local authorities during a protest rally they weren't even a 

part of.  And he, a quiet and reserved young man, spent five years in 

prison for publishing an underground newsletter.  All of this, and he 

was one of the millions of blacks waiting for reparation.  It 

infuriated him.  He suffered like everyone else.  He deserved a better 

life as much as the next person, but if he didn't then his family 

certainly did.  Where were those changes and why were they happening to 

everyone but him?  Where was his reward?  



Oh, but he did receive his reward!  It was too small and insufficient 

for his expectations, though.  With a slightly higher salary, 

Thilivhali was able to afford the rent for an apartment in an 

overcrowded, lower-middle class neighborhood.  The bathroom facilities 

were shared by all the residents in the building, but there was running 

water and electricity in all apartments.  And just three to four miles 

away from his home were people living in poverty that wanted the 

luxuries he possessed.  Thilivhali wasn't impressed, and he certainly 

wasn't satisfied.




Thilivhali brushed the cloth curtain away to peer out the small bedroom 

window.  He shook his head grimly as he looked down at a neighborhood 

infested with filth and violence, the neighborhood he called home.  

Just last night two teenagers murdered a 10-year-old that was walking 

home from a friend's house.  He couldn't stand it.  Thilivhali wanted 

more out of life, not just for himself.  He despised the fact that his 

wife and two small children were subjected to live in such an 

environment.  But as a family practitioner for the local free clinic 

that paid him once every two months, he could do no better.  Thilivhali 

felt stuck, trapped in his own life.  If this was the change that was 

promised to him, they could take it and shove it.  He didn't want it 

anymore. 



Thilivhali turned away from the window and finished getting dressed.  

He tucked in his shirttail, straightened his tie and grabbed his car 

keys form the bureau.  His wife and children were still asleep, so he 

was careful to not wake them.  After all, it was a Saturday.  Everyone 

slept in on Saturday.  Everyone except Thilivhali, that is.  He usually 

went to the clinic, where he worked a 12-hour shift, and returned home 

with enough energy to eat and go to bed, only to repeat everything the 

next day.



Not today, though.  Without mentioning it to his wife, Thilivhali took 

the day off to drive to Cape Town University Medical Center and meet 

his friend for… for something.  He wasn't quite sure why his friend 

wanted to have a secret meeting.  But from the sound of his friend's 

voice during their phone conversation two nights ago, Thilivhali could 

tell it was important that he meet with him.  He just hoped it wasn't 

anything too serious.



Before he left for the university, Thilivhali kissed his sleeping 

wife's cheek.  "I love you" was the last thing he said to her. 



It was close to a two-hour drive to the university, so Thilivhali had 

to leave.  He walked out the apartment building and climbed into his 

mound of battered red metal, better known as a car in its past life.  

As he was about to pull out, a meaty fist tapped the driver-side 

window.  Thilivhali looked out and noticed a well-dressed *white* man 

standing by his car.  He rolled down the window to find out what the 

man wanted.



"Good morning," the man greeted.  "My name is Dr. Stephen Lehmkuhl.  I 

work with a friend of yours at the university.  The virologist, Dr. 

James Sexwale I believe is his name.  Could I have a moment of your 

time?"



Thilivhali was unnerved by the gentleman's courteous smile.  It was 

vogue, a tailored mask that poorly hid his egotistical self-esteem.  

Without any words, the man practically voiced, "I'm so much better than 

you, and I am doing you a great favor by allowing you into my presence.  

So please, indulge me."  Thilivhali was ready to label him as another 

racist pig (which his friend would agree with) but for some reason he 

knew the man wasn't the typical bigot.  He had a feeling that Dr. 

Stephen Lehmkuhl smiled like that to everyone he met. 



"Funny, James never mentioned you before," Thilivhali lied, his voice 

void and even toned.



"Ah, well, Dr. Sexwale has told me much about you," Stephen grinned.  

"Do you have a moment?"



"I'm sorry, but I'm late for an important meeting."  Thilivhali 

abruptly stopped the conversation.  He didn't even bother to roll up 

his window as he drove off toward the clinic.



Stephen watched the car disappear in a cloud of dust trailing from 

behind.  His smile intensified, personifying the very depravity and 

corruption that roiled within him.



His plan was in progress.



~*~*~



For the life of her, Usagi could not understand it.  She was 

Sailormoon, the champion of love and justice who righted wrongs and 

triumphed over evil.  She was the last princess of the Silver Million, 

and in 1000 years would become the first queen for the utopian kingdom 

called Crystal Tokyo.  She defeated countless numbers of youma.  She 

saved Earth more times than there were fingers on her two hands.  She 

even sacrificed her well being and died a couple of times in the 

process.  All of that and yet… and yet…



She couldn’t even take a simple pregnancy test.



Luna couldn't understand it either.  She had reminded Usagi over and 

over again that it was just a test.  Using a pass/fall metaphor made 

the feline chortled, for it reminded her of Usagi's junior high school 

days when most of time she did fall.  Usagi would just glare at her and 

shout, "It's easy for you!  Cats take care of their kittens for about 

two months and then they don't have to worry about them anymore!" 



The pregnancy test remained in its original box, left untouched beside 

the bathroom sink.  Usagi wanted nothing but to take it and watch the 

pink line appear in the small white square.  She reached for it dozens 

or dozens of times, only to withdraw her hand at the very last minute 

and huddle back into the corner.  She was scared beyond death and why 

shouldn't she be?  It was a big step for her, for any woman.  That 

pregnancy test would unlock a truth that could change her life forever.  

What if it said no?  What if it said yes?  Or what if it said, "Reply 

hazy.  Try again later?" 



Usagi was startled by a soft knock at the door.  She immediately felt 

guilty.  While she was in the bathroom doing her best chicken 

imitation, Mamoru was on the other side of the door in their bedroom, 

waiting for the results.  And he was just as nervous as she was.  



"Well?" he asked.



Usagi stammered, "I-I don't know yet."



"What do you mean you don't know?  It's been 15 minutes already!"



"Mamo-chan, what if it says no?" 



She heard her husband give a loud sigh.  "Usako, you're going to have 

to do this," he reminded.  To lighten the mood, he added, "You know I 

can't do this for you…"



Usagi hung her head.  <I wish you could!> She took a deep breath and 

said a silent prayer as she reached for the pregnancy test.  She opened 

the pink box and followed the directions scribed on the back panel.  

One minute past, two minutes, and then three.  By the fourth and final 

minute, Mamoru's ears were suddenly exposed to a joyous, high-pitched 

proclamation that cued the bells in his head to ring.



"YES!"



Yes…?



Usagi burst forth from the bathroom and wrapped her arms around her 

husband's neck.  Mamoru started with wide eyes as his wife jumped up 

and down, repeating over and over in an enthusiastic voice, "Yes, yes, 

yes, yes, yes!"



It took Mamoru's brain a long instant to comprehend what it all meant.  

His eyes grew even wider.  "You're kidding," he almost disbelieved.  

"Pregnant?  You're pregnant?"



Usagi could no longer speak because of the tears streaming down her 

face.  When she nodded her head to confirm his question, Mamoru 

fiercely hugged his wife and kissed her passionately.  After four 

wonderful years of marriage, they were finally receiving something 

they'd truly longed for.



They were having a baby. 



~*~*~



Dr. James Sexwale was the man who knew too much.  For nearly three 

years he migrated back and forth to Beijing, China as he partook in a 

classified research program.  It was privately funded by Dr. Stephen 

Lehmkuhl, the head geneticist at Cape Town University Medical Center in 

Cape Town, South Africa.  James knew Stephen before the research 

program, for they worked at the same hospital, but more as an 

acquaintance.  Yet he was invited by Stephen to become the chief 

virologist for the program after the previous one un-expectantly 

resigned.  During the three-year course he helped to unlock the some of 

the mysteries behind a few of the world's most deadly viruses: Ebola, 

Rift Valley Fever, Junin, Mar burg, and even the newly discovered 

Sabia… Through it all James never realized Stephen's true intentions.



Now James stood by the entrance of the university's Medical Center, 

flicking his cigarette lighter.  He remembered that he promised his 

fiancée that he would quit smoking, especially as he lit his ninth 

cigarette that morning while he waited for Thilivhali to arrive.  He 

simply concluded that it wasn't time to give it up, not when he knew 

the human race was on the brink of extinction.



A voice called out, "Hey, James!"



James crumpled the empty Marlboro pack, tossed it in a nearby trashcan 

and dropped his cigarette butt to the ground.  He searched for the 

source of the familiar voice and soon saw his friend walking towards 

him from the parking lot, waving at him as he did so.



"So you're still smoking," Thilivhali pointed out.  "I thought that 

woman or yours had talked you into quitting."



James snatched Thilivhali by the sleeve of his jacket.  He jerked him 

forward until they were within whispering distance of each other.  

"This place has ears everywhere," James told him.  "It's not safe to 

talk with you out here.  Let's go to your car.  Don't say a word to me 


and don't even act like you know me.  Just walk.  I'll wait a couple of 

minutes before I go to your car.  You got it?"



Thilivhali wanted to protest.  "What are you--?"



"Do you *understand*?"



"Yes, but I--"



"Then shut up and so as I said."



Thilivhali reluctantly complied with his friend's outlandish request.  

He went back to his car and there he waited with much infuriation 

towards James.  James did not move from the entrance until Thilivhali 

was inside the vehicle and he finished another cigarette.  He then 

walked as casually as he could (which was not saying much) to the 

parking lot.  When James was inside and closed the door, Thilivhali had 

nothing but questions for him.



"What is wrong with you?" he inquired.  "You're acting like a paranoid 

maniac.  And what is this all about?  You just came back home from 

China last night, you called me and said you needed to talk with me.  

Now you're… I don't know what you are!  Are you in some kind of 

trouble?"



"Thilly," James addressed his friend, "Just hear me out on this.  T-

There's something going and it's really important that I tell someone.  

I-I know you probably won't believe me at first, but I have proof!  So 


just--"



Using his hand Thilivhali covered James' mouth to silence him.  He 

stared at him with irritable concern.  "When was the last time you 

slept?"



James removed Thilivhali's hand.  "I'll get enough sleep when I'm 

dead."




"Oh?  You keep this up and you will be dead."



"I probably will.  Or I'll die along with the rest of the world, and 

that may be very soon.  Everyone will perish.  That includes you and 

your family, Thilly, and I know how much you care about your wife and 

kids."



Thilivhali finally saw the terror manifesting through James' blue eyes.  

That immediately unnerved him.  Here was a man who, before the fall of 

apartheid, was one of the few white men who fought for equality.  It 


was how the two met, when they started the underground newsletter.  To 

Thilivhali, James was someone who feared nothing.  The secrecy, 

prejudice, violent protests, jail… nothing ever fazed him, or at least 

until now.



"Okay, okay, I'm listening," assured Thilivhali.  "Just explain 

everything to me."



James leaned into the passenger seat, collecting his thoughts before he 

spoke.  The two physicians would be there all day if he started from 

the very beginning, so he chose to start where his troubles emerged.



"My last business trip to China was supposed to be routine.  I was to 

go over the cultures that were taken a couple of weeks ago.  Everything 

was according to what I expected, but then I noticed a culture of a 

virus that I was unaware of.  Well, I asked Dr. Lehmkuhl.  Maybe I just 

forgot about it.  But he said it was a special project he'd been 

working on, and that he wanted me to be one of the first outsiders to 

see his breakthrough."




James changed his seating position and looked directly at Thilivhali.  

"A virus, it enters the body and attaches itself to a host cell.  DNA 

from the virus also enters the host cell and it generates replicas of 

the disease.  Once they are mature the new batch of virus pods then 

exits the host cell and more than likely kills it.  And then the 

process starts all over again until it's a full blown case.  It could 

be anything from influenza to HIV, and the most frightening thing could 

be the potency, whether it kills the person it's infected or not."



Thilivhali wanted to roll his eyes.  "I know that," he declared.  "Is 

that what you dragged me here for?  Biology 101?"



"Listen, this breakthrough virus Dr. Lehmkuhl asked me to see is unlike 

anything the world has seen.  It's one of the most potent viruses, or 

probably the most potent virus, that exists."



"What?  Are you talking about something similar to a biological 

weapon?"



"What I'm talking about is a biological kamikaze.  Once this virus 

enters a person's body, it has an incubation period of two months 

before any symptoms ever appear.  Then in another two weeks or so the 

infected person starts showing symptoms and could possibly be 

diagnosed.  That is, if there are enough people worldwide who are 

suffering from the same virus to cause any suspicion.  It then takes 

another two weeks or so for the virus to run its full course.  Then 

depending on the person's immune system, he will either die or enter a 

comatose state before he eventually dies.  And by then, considering the 

fact this virus has spread across the world, millions of people have 

been infected and quarantine is basically useless.  Even the person who 

releases the virus will die, for there isn't an antidote for it."



Thilivhali couldn't believe anything his friend told him, yet he knew 

it was all true.  He began to realize the risk James was taking to tell 

him about this super virus.  With realizing that, he considered the 

fact that his life was now endangered as well.  That angered 

Thilivhali.  Didn't James care about his well being, his family's well 

being?  If what he said was true and if someone was actually following 

him, Thilivhali was just as much as a target as James.



"So…" Thilivhali finally spoke.  "What's this virus called?"



James leaned forward so he wouldn't speak as loud.  "Sleeper," he 

whispered, "a genetically engineered version of the Lassa Fever.  Some 

of the researchers liked to call it Lassa X."



"Why are you telling me all of this?"



"I need you to somehow make sure that this leaks into the public.  That 

Internet pen pal of yours, what's his name…?"




"Dr. Chiba?  Hey now… I can see where you're going with this but there 

is no way I'm going ask him or anyone for help.  The media hounds are 

the ones who should know about this, not anyone else.  But if this 

makes the six o'clock news, how do you know Dr. Lehmkuhl hasn't already 

released Sleeper?"



"Well, it's not completely finished.  Dr. Lehmkuhl argues that it needs 

some *adjustments*.  The expectant release date is six to seven months 

from now.  I couldn't collect all the data from the Sleeper 

experiments, but…" James reached inside his coat and took out a manila 

envelope.  "What I do have is in here.  No one but you knows I have 

this."



Thilivhali opened the envelope and reviewed some of the documents.  "A 

good idea would be to contact the CDC in the United States.  Perhaps 

contacting them would be better than handing this into a reporter.  If 

the CDC read over this, they could release it to the media and the 

evidence would be more substantial.  What do you think?"



James ran his fingers through his hair.  "I don't know.  I don't know 

anything anymore."  The fear was now slipping through his voice.  "All 

I know is that the world needs to be told.  If I don't do something, 

the world is going to end."



Thilivhali was at a loss of words to comfort his friend with, but then 

there possibly were no comforting words that could soothe him.  

Thilivhali patted James on his knee and asked him, "You want to grab 

some coffee?"



James nodded.  "That sounds fine with me."



Thilivhali dug into his pants pocket and found his keys.  As he turned 

the ignition key and started the engine, the bomb implanted under his 

car was immediately triggered.  The car exploded, killing the passenger 

and driver and destroying all evidence of the existence of Sleeper.  

For that, Stephen was thankful. 



======

End of Chapter One





06.17.02





Disclaimer: Sailormoon and the characters of "Bishoujo Senshi 

Sailormoon" are property of Takeuchi Naoko, Toei Animation, Kodansha, 

etc.  "Sleeper" is inspired by the novel "The Most Important Little Boy 

in the World" written by Dean Briggs.  It is property of the author and 

Tyndale House Publishing.  I do not have ownership and I do not make 

any profits from the use of Sailormoon or the novel in this fan 

fiction.





Author's Notes:

Now you understand why I spent more time on the new characters than the 

original characters: it was necessary because most of them died in the 

end.  From now on, you'll see much more of Usagi, Mamoru, Motoki, the 

Inner Senshi, and even the Outer Senshi.  (If you've read any of my 

other stories, you know I don't write about the Outer Senshi much.)  

Haruka, Michiru, Setsuna, and Hotaru all have important roles in this 

story, but it will be halfway or near the end of the story before 

they're heavily mentioned.  Sorry, Outer Senshi fans.



I know 99.9% of you did not understand the medical jargon used in this 

chapter.  It's okay that you didn't.  It was used to set the mood for 

the scene.  A quick summary to the paramedic's medical "speech" is: 

"This guy was in a car wreck and unconscious.  Thank God he had his 

seatbelt on.  He still has a crack in the head, though.  Lots of 

bruises and scrapes, some broken ribs and a broken arm.  His heart's 

beating irregularly, and his oxygen level is low."  Motoki's response 

is: "He's a patient in critical condition, so we'll take him first.  Do 

all these tests on him and order an IV and blood.  Get x-rays of his 

head, check, and neck to see if he has any more broken bones."  Heheh, 

I watch too much ER…





Email: masked_maiden@hotmail.com

Web Site: http://miracleromance.cjb.net/