Regeneration: The 2nd Rising
by
Kevin Douglas
This book is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locals is entirely coincidental.
Farabee Publishing
Chandler, AZ 85244
Copyright 2018 Kevin Douglas
Email is: [email protected]
Web address is: www.kevindbooks.com
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
ISBN: 978-1-64516-449-4
Printed in the United States of America
Book Cover designed by: [email protected]
“The men of today boast of the ever growing extent of the modifications they impose on the world, and the consequence is that everything is thereby made more and more ‘artificial’…”
― René Guénon
“I believe that at the end of the century the use of words and general educated opinion will have altered so much that one will be able to speak of machines thinking without expecting to be contradicted.”
― Alan Turing, Computing Machinery and Intelligence
“It seems probable that once the machine thinking method had started, it would not take long to outstrip our feeble powers… They would be able to converse with each other to sharpen their wits. At some stage therefore, we should have to expect the machines to take control.”
― Alan Turing
Dedication
Dedicated to the family, you’ve been there for me, sacrificed, cared, loved, fought, smiled, laughed and cried for me. Here’s to you, may we never drift apart.
And to my cats George and Ashton, for always being there with me, laying on the keyboard, in my lap, a tail in my face...I’m convinced they really didn’t want me to write this book. :-)
CHAPTER 1
B right orange, blood red light filled Leo’s eyes as he stared into another world. He turned his head to view its opposite, a sea calming deep blue, purple and black clouds, dotted by millions of stars. Leo slid his window shade closed, blocking out the intense light.
Leo pulled up the blanket to cover the sleeping Sarafina, who had already fallen prey to a tiny airline pillow, reclined seat, cool air blowing on her face, and the strangely soothing whirr of the jet flying thirty thousand feet above the Atlantic.
He tried to relax but the last twenty-four hours had been jarring. The thought of his missing father, long thought dead, invaded his mind, the reason that drove him to book the flight they were on now.
Leo’s narrow escape from Halaby made him forget about the memory card he had taken from his father’s camera. He pulled it out of his pocket, grabbed his company tablet, and inserted the card.
Leo waited for the files to download onto the tablet and took a sip of his Mountain Dew. As he munched on some airline peanuts, the download completed, and a grid of thumbnails appeared.
The first photos that pulled up were the oldest; the shots of Leo and his father held the most meaning. All of these were of a happy, euphoric time that he recalled with a smile on his face.
His mind finished replaying old memories, and he scrolled down to view another set of photos. This set was more recent, holding memories that were still painful. These photos were of the last days he had with his father, ten years ago at the Museum of Natural History in New York City.
He recalled his father saying, “A window into the past always teaches the future to be humble.” Leo’s hope was that other than family memories, it may contain photos taken after his father’s disappearance. These photos would have clues and, undoubtedly, knowing his father, would have hints that lead him somewhere.
Leo reached the last of the photos, all of them unfamiliar to him. He selected one, sending it into full screen mode, and flipped through each of them one by one, paying close attention to the subject of the photos and every little detail.
Many, he assumed, were proprietary as they appeared to be of some kind of secret server vault. Looking for a clue that was helpful, Leo scanned the last few photos, scouring them for any details. One was clearly of his father’s secret hidden room within Halaby.
The dates on the photos of the vault and the room were identical. Leo was surprised that such a robust system was on site at Halaby and wondered where the vault was located. All of his adventures pointed to a possible trove of data at Sullivan House, but this seemed to suggest there was one at Halaby as well.
The last three were the strangest and because of that he knew they were the most significant. One was of a small black room with a domed roof and a single chair in the center. It was a large throne-like chair; the front legs swooped downward to the floor and terminated near a pedestal standing in front of it.
On the pedestal sat a large metallic ball and Leo zoomed in to get a closer look. Leo’s eyes widened with shock and confusion. It was nearly identical to the hands on the tablet from his dream, a large dandelion-like structure, apparent when he zoomed in to one hundred seventy five percent.
Scanning the photo to his right, he saw another surprise. Two forms appeared to the right of the pedestal in the shadows but were indiscernible, he increased brightness to reveal Mr. Sullivan with a woman standing to his right.
He presumed the woman’s identity to be that of Mrs. Sullivan and was surprised to see the two conspiring together, and in person.
Anger rose when Leo saw Mr. Sullivan’s face but slowly faded when he concentrated on the details of the next few photos. It was a close up of a round hole, glowing blue, similar to the one on Halaby’s front door and the maze sculpture. The lighted opening had strange faint symbols around it. He vaguely remembered them but couldn’t place them until the last photo loaded. The photo was of the strange piston sculpture that he saw in the maze.
This was the last photo taken by his father. To Leo that meant two things: One, that these were the most relevant snapshots as they were the last clues his father recorded, and two, that since it was the last photo, it indicated he was on to something and that “something” lead to his disappearance.
Leo paused in thought, glancing over the plane’s occupants; all were asleep. It was like a flying hotel, a hall of snores. One thought kept crossing his mind. He couldn’t see his father knowingly abandoning him, yet Leo’s theory of his father held captive didn’t quite fit either.
Yes, the room where his father apparently stayed was secretive, but it was also coded for his father’s entry, requiring a retinal or a facial structure scan to enter.
This meant his father wasn’t held prisoner in that room and the picture clues, he had to admit, left him even more lost and confused. Leo exited the grid of photos and thought for a moment, running his hands through his goatee. An idea struck him. He pulled up the list of files from the memory card, sorted them by file type, and looked for irregularities.
All the files seemed to be JPEG, but he scanned with hope, reaching the bottom of the list, something caught his eye. Its icon was a blank sheet of paper that was titled ‘Read Me’ and was created just hours before the last photo had been taken.
He tapped the icon while he took another swig of his Mountain Dew, freezing mid sip, then slowly set the drink down. The discovery of the letter surprised him, and he read the letter with excited anticipation.
Dear Leo, if you’re reading this, it means you’re either involved or entangled. You probably have a hundred questions, but once you hear what I have to say, I hope you’ll understand.
Since those involved aren’t going to tell you a thing, I’ll start from the beginning. One year prior to my abd
uction, I was involved in a military contract with a private entity. The goal of the U.S. government was to make a diversified, sophisticated, and lean military that was impervious.
Unlike most government only projects I had overseen, this one involved the Leighland Corporation, a private company. They weren’t just supplying a product; they were supplying vital military systems and handling classified data, something many protested against, but in the end Leighland won the trust of the U.S. military.
Leighland had won back their long-lost business partner, one they hadn’t worked with in fifty plus years. Many wondered where they’d been, how they had come up with a cutting-edge idea after being absent so long.
While generals were skeptical, thinking Leighland had friends in very high offices, they weren’t altogether opposed to this revolutionary idea.
They salivated at the opportunity this would bring them. I was brought in on the project and in a short amount of time, they were ready to upload and test data. Leighland seemed rushed to get online. I found it odd, since we didn’t have military applications ready to use this technology.
Despite my call for them to put on the breaks, the military told me to press forward without hesitation. Adding to my sense of uneasiness, the project was primarily remote with video conferencing for proof of infrastructure.
I was told that limited on-site interaction was requested to keep the site’s whereabouts unknown to everyone. This was for ‘security purposes’ they said initially, but I had yet to set foot on site when our data started to flow into Leighland’s servers. I was told high-up military officials had visited the facility, but all I saw was a tall dark-haired man via video chat for all our dealings.
Shortly after our ‘go live’ with our small data sample, inexplicably an enormous amount of data poured in with no signature trail. This was neither Leighland, nor government data. It had me panicked.
If unknown data could enter onto the server, what prevented our data from being extracted? I pulled the plug on any further testing until we could find out where the data had come from, when suddenly the information mysteriously disappeared.
Leighland was mad at the breech but seemed unconcerned they lost the contract. That was till they learned I had extracted a file from the mystery data. They pressed for a copy of the data to help in its analysis, but I denied them. When I finally cracked the files’ encryption, everything turned into a zoo.
I wanted answers, but the military wanted secrecy and ownership of the file if I cracked its additional security measures. I convinced them it had a further set of encryptions and the contents were irrelevant anyhow. When I finally decoded the file, I kept that secret to myself.
A man named Cromwell supposedly received commands from a superior for me to encrypt this book till further notice, which I had already secretly done. I knew I was sitting on something huge, and I didn’t fully grasp its enormity. The files I had decoded were dated 2175 and that spooked a lot of people, but nothing prepared me for what was to come.
Leighland had been quiet for nearly a year now, and all ties had been severed. Despite that, I received an email from them asking strange questions about the book’s contents. This was shortly followed by Cromwell asking me to give him the files along with the codes to unlock them. He said they were going to file them away and keep them hidden.
The ‘they’ he was referring to was himself and a high ranking official. The see-saw of decision making and strange insight from Leighland to a file they shouldn’t have had knowledge of, pushed me to my final day.
I had proactively encrypted the information initially because of its value. It contained locations of natural resources, locations we weren’t aware of, gold in the everglades, oil deposits in Phoenix, large diamond deposits in France, and the list went on.
This was no doubt a treasure trove of information that was seen as a gold mine literally for some. The U.S. government would no doubt seek to use it to assure world dominance. The book’s existence would create wars over its content and put an expiration date on a swelling worldwide population.
Leighland’s knowledge of it still had me scratching my head. That’s when I re-opened the file and read every page. When I had reached its end, the page count suddenly changed, and there were 50 new pages. I read over them wide-eyed in disbelief. I’m not a geology major, but I had never seen these minerals, at least not till now.
I setup a trap to see who had skin in the game; there was no way this information, however it appeared, had been done in error. I blasted all private channels of media I had available, and before I could formulate a coherent theory, someone had taken the bait. I was abducted and shrouded. When it was finally lifted, a holographic Mr. Halaby introduced himself.
Naturally, I was confused, but the man was no stranger to me. The cloud project was his, and I had seen him dozens of times via video conference. Halaby and his wife questioned me in their own style, with seemingly different motives.
His wife left and that’s when things changed… you don’t want to be involved with Halaby. Seeing as how that’s moot since you’re reading this, I’ll simply prepare you for what’s to come.
Halaby no doubt has a vision for our world, and it is drastically different. While we might use the book for personal gain or country solvency, they will use it in a much different fashion.
Their second phase is in testing now and you, no doubt, have encountered some of his pets. When they use the full force of the data center, it will be hard to stop them. Finite Resources will then be in their hands for ransom. They will hold the world at bay and let men grovel at their feet.
Halaby was very interested in a particular mineral, something he only discussed in her absence. It’s the mineral Kyanite, and it may be something you can leverage against him.
His second interest was you, son. Above all else, he talked of you. You are to play an important role and are key for him to move forward. It is for this reason I will enter the garden sculpture, with a little deceit I will gain entry by his desire to impress.
I need answers that only it can provide; this will be the first time I truly leave you forever. I hope my mind shall live on to guide you. Remember to choose wisely, and remember home is where the heart is. ;-)
Lastly Leo, Halaby has experienced failure and has been dominated to near extinction, which is why he is here. Regeneration is a chance to right things. Let’s hope his failure is repeated. We too have a second chance to get it right again.
Love always, your father
Patrick A. Krueger.
CHAPTER 2
T he sun dawned to a cold clear morning, rays of light dusting the treetops. Dead silence filled the forest floor till a black Mercedes 500 kicked up dust as it briskly tore down the windy dirt road.
The sedan approached the large iron gate of the Sullivan residence and came to a stop. Fox Three cautiously approached the vehicle from the woods and leveled his weapon on the driver’s side door. Nothing was visible from the outside of the pitch black tinted windows. Fox Tree squinted to try and get a better view. The vehicle’s idling engine could be heard clearly in this quiet place.
“Turn off your engine and exit the vehicle!” said Fox Three loud and clear.
The vehicle’s engine was killed as requested, but no one exited the vehicle. Instead the window rolled down. Fox Tree eased his finger onto the trigger.
A loud voice boomed from within the cabin, “I demand entry immediately! Put down your weapon you fool!”
“That’s not how things work around here. Who are you and why are you here?” Fox Three said, his aim obvious to the unknown driver.
“I beg to differ,” the driver said confidently.
Fox Three stiffened as a cold gun barrel pressed against the back of his head.
“That is no way to treat our guest. Stand down, soldier,” the phantom commanded from behind the surprised Fox Three.
The tall dark figure exited the vehicle and strode over to the now unarmed Fox Three.
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“Is he going to be a problem?” said the mystery guest.
“No sir,” the phantom quickly responded.
The man took off his sun glasses and glared intensely at Fox Three.
“To answer your question, I am the authority, or Mr. Sullivan, if you must. I’m here to crash the party, reclaim this house and my data center.” Mr. Sullivan made a broad sweep of his arm, indicating entering the property. “Shall we Fox One?”
“Shit,” Fox Three blurted out, angry at himself for making the mistake of misidentifying Mr. Sullivan. “I can’t let either of you enter,” he said tensing for a response.
Fox One cocked his hand gun, still pressed against the back of Fox Three’s head.
“Fox Three, this is your team leader, and this is the last time we’ll ask you to stand down.”
Silence filled the tense moments till Fox One spoke again, “She had Fox Two killed and then sent her butler to attack us at Halaby. She’s gone too far. It stops today!”
Fox Three, relaxing, let his weapon hang on his shoulder strap.
“If that’s true, I’m not about to die over letting you enter.” Fox Three laughed, "Just don’t tell anyone I opened the gate for you.”
Instead of calling out, Fox Three pressed a button on his coms, opening the gate. The phantom lowered his weapon and turned to face his teammate.
“No, call ahead for approval to enter. Since when is that protocol?” Fox One said with a suspicious look.
“Since last night. It’s all yours now.”
The gate finished opening with a loud crack, and Mr. Sullivan got back into his vehicle.
Fox One opened the passenger door before speaking to Fox Three, “Leave the gate open. We won’t be long.”
The Second Rising Page 1