The Doorkeeper's Mind

by E. L. Morrow

  “I feel no pain nor anything else. I have no remorse for anything I did or may do; no emotions. Love, tenderness, lust, friendship, hate, or fear—identical—nothing. Hot or cold; wet or dry; dressed or naked—all the same to me.

  “So maybe this will help you at least understand, if not forgive, some of what I’ve done.”

  I can’t read his energy because—it’s unchanging. It seems that my opinion matters to him. I doubt he’d admit it though.

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t conceive of living without any emotion.”

  “The words sorry and emotion have no meaning for me. The closest I can come to feeling is my desire to make The General pay …. What did I leave out about me?”

  Marie says, “Just that you were born in Italy, your name was Rizzo, and your mother hid you from the project for many years. When they found you, your death was faked, and you became the Senator from Virginia.”

  “Oh, you found out that part as well. I’m … I guess the word is impressed. The General said he had wiped away all the evidence of my prior life. Then you’re aware of my colorful past?”

  “Yes.”

  “For the record, I had a way out before The General’s goons stepped in to do it his way.

  “Since you understand that part of my past, you will understand that I was an unwilling participant in The General’s paranoia.”

  “So, is that why you want to help us now?”

  “No. I want to be left alone for the rest of my life. I want The General out of my life. The best way is to get him out of yours as well. More later. Are you ready for what I know about you?”

  “I think so.”

  “You might want to discontinue the audio to your handlers. I may say some things you don’t want them to hear.”

  I wonder—what he’s found out about me?

  “I will disconnect all but one. Then no one will think I’m in danger and do something disruptive.”

  Marie leaves Rudy connected.

  He’ll filter out anything the others don’t need to know to do their jobs. How Bluefoot tells me what he’s learned will say a lot about how he thinks. I want Rudy’s perspective in addition to mine.

  Thirty-Three

  Could This Enemy Become a Friend?

  Bluefoot continues, “Okay. We have more in common than one might think. We are both products of ill-conceived attempts to create in my case the perfect soldier, or the perfect student for you.

  “You can function on less sleep than most, and when needed you skip meals without adverse effects. Your mind is sharp, remembering most of what you read. You make connections from scraps of information to form the bigger picture.

  “You read people’s expressions, tone of voice, body language and infer their intentions, or when they are lying to you. Your vision is better than most, and you can see colors many cannot.

  “But the biggest difference between you and so-called normal people is your ability to sense danger. Somehow you measure the electrical energy coming off another person. If one plans you harm—you’re aware and take defensive action.

  “I don’t understand how it works, or how to defend against your ability—but this capacity was one of the goals of HMP. I don’t know about your specific lineage, but I can tell you something none of your friends found out.

  “When the founders of the Invincibility Project became aware of the group that produced you, they realized your group had a much better survival rate—better in fact than the general population. So, an Invincibility team member joined that group to copy techniques.

  “Dr. Erick Livingwell planned to gain access to the birth records, but when the Birth Purist groups got wind of HMP everyone scrambled and decentralized. Consequently, he found few specifics: none about you—well you weren’t born yet. What he did find was some enabling agents that made possible better egg manipulation results.”

  “Wait, are you saying HMP used gene-splicing, and similar methods?”

  “Of course, but they did it through less invasive techniques. The details are all in the package I will leave you when we finish.”

  That is not what Mother or Berry said. Nothing in Phillip’s papers … this is a whole new wrinkle.

  “That’s not what I’ve been told. I thought they only used guided selection.”

  “Some of your friends can make sense of the data. It’s in the package.”

  Marie asks, “How did you find out about me, and who else knows?”

  “No one learned it from me. I didn’t suspect until after parting ways with The General.

  “I wasn’t positive until you asked the question, I suspected for three reasons. When the indictments came down, viewing the video of your testimony, I noticed how central you had been to all the information. They tried to minimize your role, but it was clear that much of the information originated with you. Including all the things your predecessor collected; without your action, they would remain hidden.

  “I had dealings with your Phillip over the years, and neither my guys nor I could get anything out of him. You found him ‘not dead’ in the morgue and set the trap to see who put him there. Your detective friend found out about ‘Dr. Stupidity’ who screwed-up the deep coma resulting in his real death. You started that ball rolling. I’m sure Phillip left his secrets well hidden. But you got through the maze and revealed the damning documents.

  “Second, I looked at not just what you said but how you said it. You spoke with confidence. Not with the timidity of one who merely ‘logically connected the dots.’”

  “Third, I went back through your speech on that Monday night. I looked at how you turned an audience that was buying the ‘three stooges’ argument. You followed some heavy hitters, who had struck out, but in less than 15 minutes you had everyone eating out of your hand. I watched your eyes. You were looking all over. You read the body language, expressions, and I’m not sure what else—to speak the words needed to convince them.

  “That is what made me think you might be. I reviewed everything I had about HMP. Now, what else can you tell me about you?”

  “As you know, HMP is no more. I had a note about some things I should be able to do: tell the future. Apparently, that’s not working, or I would have been aware you were going to be here. By the way, how did you find out I was here?”

  “I didn’t. But the security guy from Cyclops, Rudy, is here. Since you moved to Wichita, he only leaves Cyclops when guarding you. I set up a camera on the Fitness Center’s entrance assuming you would go there. When you entered, I sent the message to your room.

  “That’s another reason I thought you were one of them. My message was enough of a challenge. You picked up the gauntlet. Most people would’ve simply called security—but not you. We have that in common: I had no reason to destroy the economy, but it was a challenge—so I did it. More about that later. Are you ready to learn about our common enemy?”

  “Yes, I’ll add my security folk back to the conversation now.”

  “We all want The General caught. I propose we pool our information. I give you everything I know about him and his habits. I will provide a web-link to reach me—if you find him, tell me, and I’ll do the rest.”

  “No matter how despicable he is, I cannot be a party to his death.”

  “Oh, I don’t want him dead. That would be too easy. No, I want to make him live like he’s made my whole life. No emotion, no sensations, no rest and no sense of a future.

  “After a year—you’ll be told where to find him.”

  “Suppose my friends reach him first?”

  “I think Rudy might agree that jail is insufficient punishment for his crimes. He’s constantly on the move; never anywhere more than 24 hours. If I discover his location and can’t reach him quickly enough, I will tell you. I only ask the same from your people.”

  “I can’t speak for my friends. They don’t work for me, but we possess many common goals.”

  “Fair enough. I
will tell you three things about The General that should help in the search. First, he calls himself ‘The General,’ but his highest rank was Colonel. He was the ‘General Manager’ of the operation. He thought he would be a General, but Operation Invincibility went off the books—so, no promotions. His name was Jasper Finnegan, who technically died in the Pentagon on September 11, 2001.

  “Second, he has no address: physical or electronic. I believe he lives on the ocean, but he changes vessels, and they change nationalities and appearances frequently.

  “I believed I would find him by following his money. He uses bank accounts in at least seven non-plan related countries. As Senator, I helped send him billions to those accounts, but the numbers given to me were only holding accounts. The money was transferred elsewhere in minutes. So, when he is located time is of the essence.

  “Third, he looks like a 45-year-old Nigerian businessman.”

  “His voice sounded like a 95-year old Caucasian male with breathing problems.”

  “When did you hear his voice?”

  “When he tried to kill me by crashing my plane.”

  “Of course, he would want to gloat as you died; feeds his ego and need for power.

  “Okay, when he transferred to this body, one of the few parts that they could not subsume was the vocal-cord. They transplanted his old voice box in the new body. Each time he speaks is an effort. He has to force the voice box to function.

  “I’ll start at the beginning. Jasper Finnegan was born in 1960. Date and location are uncertain. I also obtained no information about his military career before joining the Invincibility Project in 1995, three years after its inception. The project is a century old, and JF is the oldest remaining organizer at 130 years of age.

  “At age 60 he decided he wanted a new body, to outlive the ‘bastards who shelved us.’ What he didn’t count on was that outliving them did not alter his fortunes. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

  “He put together a team of researchers and doctors to explore what was called Mind Transplant. The lab was in an African country, I never learned where. It was easier to find an African man’s body to use: they had three, one was actually white.

  “They used what was called ‘aggressive stem-cell therapy’ to convert the primary organs, to match his DNA. Injections into each organ—except the muscles and tendons—prepared for the next step. After months, transplants of a portion of The General’s organs, liver, pancreas, kidneys, etc. The host showing the least signs of rejection is then nurtured with more aggressive gene therapy. Then after six or more months, they transfer his brain into the new body.

  “They had some problems with the first one. ‘The host,’ as they referred to poor devil whose life was thrown in the garbage heap, was only eighteen-years of age. They decided next time they would go for one in his 20’s. Each body is good for only about 40 years.

  “The first transfer was completed in ’31 and the second in ’72. He is 22 years into his third body.”

  “Doctors take an oath ‘to do no harm.’ Those whose bodies were stolen have been harmed. Are the physicians believers in The General’s agenda? If not, how does he persuade them to do this? And how could he trust that they wouldn’t just dump his brain in the trash and send the other guy on his way?”

  “The General leaves nothing to chance. He never tells them his agenda. Starting with handpicked doctors being given a Cutting-Edge Study Grant for two years, he brings them to his lab—somewhere in Africa, India, or Indonesia—unsure where. While they are learning the techniques, their families, friends, and others they may care about are injected with a time-bomb microchip. The doctors also get one. They are not told until time for the surgery.

  “Big G promises that he will deactivate them only after the procedure is complete, and he is healthy enough. If they fail and he dies so will they, and all their loved ones. After his recovery, most were deactivated. However, unknown to the doctors their death circuits remained active. When all their studies and records are compiled, he flips a switch, and everyone who contributed dies. That way none of them will later ‘develop a conscience’ as he says and talk about what they did.

  “Working for The General is a death sentence.”

  “So, the other two hosts are simply allowed to die?”

  “Currently he keeps one alive, for spare parts in case he needs a new kidney, liver or something. After all the gene-therapy they genetically become—primarily him. They are prisoners until no longer needed.

  “I’m sure you have questions. There are 40 minutes until I must leave.”

  Marie thinks of many questions. Prioritize.

  “You said there were about 850 from Invincibility. How many remain? And is breeding still going on?

  “The breeding ended. The General plans to start up again after it’s recognized as a necessity. While being prepped for my role as a senator, I met 14 others. Four are insane; two others are catatonic, haven’t moved in years, kept alive by feeding tubes. Three others are functional as long as someone tells them precisely what to do; they seem to be incapable of any form of decision-making. That leaves five who are similar to me.

  “One is body-guard and strategist for big G. He’s almost never out his sight. Two are members of U. S. House; I do not know which states. One comes from a Programmed State. The other two were into some military training when I was around—they would be formidable in a battle. Of course, your crew says there will be no need for such fighters—but Big G will try to make it otherwise. Might be others, but I doubt it.”

  “What about your staff? Cotton and others escaped the indictments. Are they with you?”

  “No. Cotton was a spy. Put on my staff to keep tabs on me and report to The General. The others all worked for Cotton, not me. By the way, someone in the Federal Prosecutor’s Office tipped off Cotton, 12 hours before the raid. I had already departed.

  “I’ve put together a whole new crew—none of them knew me as Bluefoot. To them, I’m Hawk Ramies, an eccentric retired businessman, who wants his privacy. They will stay entirely above the law, except for a certain kidnapping.

  “Also, Cotton and his crew work for G now.”

  Marie tentatively says, “One more question. You said you destroyed the economy because you could. Will you tell me more?”

  “It’s in place. I can’t stop it even if I wanted to. It will take nearly a year. The economy will come crashing down. All the reserves will disappear. Unless everyone is willing to work for free—no jobs will exist. I suggest you plan what you will do. I predict blood in the streets.”

  “How is this being accomplished?”

  “Computers; what else? A complex program is already in place. Some series of events will trigger its start, and in hours all the money will disappear from the Structured States, as you call them. The others will remain—the age of confusion returns. Save yourself, if you can.”

  “If everything collapses in less than a year, how are we going to be able to help you find The General?”

  “That’s part of the urgency. We need to capture him before the crash. It will be much harder afterward.”

  “One more question. An off-the-books project developed the weapon that killed the young Security Officer during my first week. Estimates are the senator channeled $600 billion for its development. What other weapons should we be expecting from that investment?”

  “By the way, kudos to whoever took that thing down. When I heard that news, I was as close to being pleased as I can remember. The General was sure no one would be able to figure out how the thing worked, much less find a solution. It was affirming to see Mr. Know-it-all so flustered. He had planned to start a new arms race with that weapon.

  “Other weapons—not really. They worked a long time on a hand-held nuclear gun. It was so poorly designed that the operator would die from radiation poisoning in a few days—just having it in their possession. Others around them would die as well.

  “W
hat you do need to look out for is an electronic snooping system. If it is perfected, one can bypass all security and read any document, even when the communicator or computer is turned off. He’s developed a master computer that takes intercepted messages and connects them to find a full series of any conversation, no matter how long ago.”

  “So, with one message to or from me, he could read every message I sent or received since I was three years old?”

  “Correct, but he can’t get the messages—until they break the grid lockouts.”

  “How close are they.”

  “Can’t be sure. About five months ago, there were several major obstacles—maybe five. They may have solved some of them by now, but I think it will take time.”

  They talked for several more minutes about next steps, how BF could reach The General if he is on the other side of the world. The ex-senator has people dispersed throughout the globe.

  To be sure he could leave without being detained, Ramies placed Marie’s package with a delivery service instructed to deliver it to the hotel. Once safely on the road, he will call them to give the go ahead. Delivery should take about four hours. Hawk Ramies departs.

  Thirty-Four

  What Next?

  After four minutes Rudy joins Marie on the bench.

  “We’re trying to track him. He has no thumb ID and is wearing nothing that can be tagged. We think he is heading for the coast; there’s likely a boat hidden somewhere.”

  “I say let him go. He told us a lot, and the material he promised is worth more than him in jail.”

  “Agreed. We won’t stop him. But it would be helpful to find his hideout. Are you alright?”

  “Define alright. I have never been this exhausted in my life. When he was ten feet behind me, background sounds disappeared. Before he arrived, I realized I ‘hear’ energy trails—just like listening to the birds and squirrels—while he was here they were missing. They’re back now. What time is it?”

  “Quarter after five.”