by John Carrick
LEGACY OF A MAD SCIENTIST
“This is a mixed martial arts course, you will be taught many things, and you will be tested. But first, I'd like to know, do any of you have experience in the martial arts?”
About half the students raised their hands. Ashley didn't raise hers. Despite two previous summers of similar courses, she did not count herself as experienced.
"Now, how many of you have been hit, hard, in the face?" Sihing Shou asked.
Several hands went up, but some were timid, uncertain.
"I mean really hard, bloody nose, fat lip, black eye. How many?”
Only a few hands remained aloft.
Shou pointed to one boy and asked, "Who hit you?”
"My brother hits me all the time," he said, pointing at his brother, standing a few spaces away.
Shou and several others laughed. Ashley noticed that the boy, however, was not laughing. She suspected he was very interested in how to put a stop his brother’s dominance.
"And you?" Shou gestured to another boy.
"My father," came the answer.
Shou pointed again.
"A kid in my class.”
"Has anyone here ever been hit while in the ring?" Shou asked.
All the hands went down.
"When you are in a fight, if you are ever in a fight, you must fight for your life. It will be at that moment when you are weak, tired, probably very hurt, that is when you must act to save your life. We will help you get to that place and teach you how to think while you're there.”
Instructor Shou walked along the front of the room. "Someone may come, an outlaw, the government, a king, they may take all of your possessions. They may steal your clothes, eat your food and burn down your house, but you can survive all of that.
“You may have nothing, but you will never be defenseless. Knowledge is the greatest power and it is something no one can see. It cannot be stolen or broken. No one can take it from you.
“When you leave here, you will be in possession of new knowledge. You will know things you did not know when you arrived. You will have earned it, paid for it in sweat and blood and it will be worth much more than money."
LEGACY OF A MAD SCIENTIST
Copyright © 2012 John Carrick
ISBN 978-0-9836916-3-1
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Published by Alpha Channel Books, at Smashwords.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Alpha Channel Books
www.AlphaChannelBooks.com
www.TrialsofAsh.com
2012
Trials of Ash
Volume One
Legacy of a Mad Scientist
Artist: Jay Arcilla.
Designer: Liezel Co
Editors: William Greenleaf, Karl Morgan, James Borrelli
First Expanded Edition
LEGACY OF A MAD SCIENTIST
Trials of Ash – Volume One
John Carrick
Acknowledgements and Special Thanks
My family, my parents, Bill and Therese, my brothers and sisters, Sam, Bill, Megan, Therese, Tom, David, Patrick, Daniel, Edward, Brian, Elizabeth, Mary Kate and Bridget. Uncle Bob and Aunt Lucy, Uncle Dan and Aunt Paula, Aunt Mary Helen and Uncle Larry McCarthy, my cousins, Tim and David, Brandon, Matthew and Amber. Kathleen, Colleen and Brian, and my extended family across the country, I’ve learned so much from all of you.
I am also deeply indebted to the friends of a lifetime, Patrick, Chris, Frances, Elizabeth, Margaret, Maureen and Alison Tully, George-John, Oscar and Joan Pinz, Charlotte and Dale Finch and their family, Tim Hennip, David Webb, Dan and Dave Wilkinson, Rob McAndrews, Mike Ruemelin, Bob Julian, Jeremy Biggerstaff, Daniel and Michelle Sullivan, Mike and Lynn Stengal, Kim Comstock, Matt and Garth Clewis, Matt Budney, Alec O’Connor, Mark Foppe, Adam Lazaar, Wayne Steinmetz, Frank Mueller, Kathy Shleet, Michael Salgado, Steve Zagraphos, Shannon Coffee, Don Shivers, Patrick Graham, Michael Zager, Katherine Rippy, Max Wicks, Jennifer Golovin, Gary and LeAnn Fidorowitz, Scott, Al, Beau, Wally and the entire G&L Electric crew, the Westfall Family, Angela Battistelli, Lisa Haley, Senator O’Brien, Sean Aldrin, Rinzi Ruiz, Jay Racelis, Jayson Arcilla, Tony Ross, Samantha Tyernik, Carmello Di Bella, The Sweedish Rockers: Daniel Olofsson, Johnan Elfving and Ulrick Zander, Krisakorn Tanitmet, Tim Rush, Ken Yankee, Jennifer Russakoff, Brandi Griffith, Meghan Scott, Julie Choi, Rob Hampton, Doyle Dean, Dan Didsbury, Tony Diaz, Jason Robertson, Deborah Schlaff, Paul and Alison Smith, Mikko Alanne, Karl Morgan, everyone at Fan Story, Zach Tyson, Mike Gallagher, Matt Taylor, Brian Dawson, Frank Glacey, Lee Levi, Eli Ramirez, Robert, Keri, Ronald MacGregor, Shirley Daniel, Nathon Plumlee, Barry Gast, Jeff Carrillo, Jim Borrelli, Professor and Doctor Carl Totton, Brett Rushworth, LB, Simon, Roman, Johnny Blue, Gideon, Thorne Humphrey, Justin Waggle, Charlotte, Hashim Thomas, Rob Newman and Liezel Co.
Thank you all so much.
Special thanks
Denise Poirier, Peter Chung and Mark Mars. Also Shirow Masamune.
The Authorities - Stephen King, J.R.R. Tolkien, Victor Hugo, Miguel de Cervantes, Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Twain, Jules Verne, Richard K. Morgan, James Ellroy, Ken Kesey, Arthur Miller, Elmore Leonard, Joseph Conrad, Phillip Roth, Thomas Wolfe, Joseph Heller, Stan Lee, Robert E. Howard, Cormac McCarthy, Ernest Hemmingway, William Faulkner, Vladimr Nabakov, Albert Camus, Oscar Wilde, William Gibson, Ray Bradbury, Futaro Yamada, Hiroaki Samura, Thomas Cleary, Fydor Doystevesky, Homer, Gaius Julius Caesar, Publius Ovidius Naso, Marcus Tullius Cicero, Plato, Socrates, Sophocles, William Shakespeare, Francis Bacon, John Dee, Dante Alighieri, James Joyce, John Milton, Eliphas Levi, George Bernard Shaw, Thomas Paine, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Ayn Rand, Jun Fan Lee, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, Charles Michael Kittridge Thompson IV, Quentin Tarantino, Kurt Sutter, John Wells, Aaron Sorkin, Oliver Stone, Guy Ritchie, Ben Edlund, Sylvester Stallone, Joss Whedon, Robert Towne, William Goldman, Christopher McQuarrie, Garth Ennis, Warren Ellis, Neil Gaiman, Neil Stephenson, Orson Scott Card, Terry Brooks, George Orwell, Ralph Ellison, Isaac Asimov, D. H. and T. E. Lawrence, R. A. Heinlein, H. G Wells, J. D. Salinger, T. H. White, Mary Shelley, Brahm Stoker, Akira Kurosawa, Shimozawa Kan, Grant Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Clive Barker, Alan Moore, Harper Lee, George R.R. Martin, Donna Tartt, Nichola Tesla, Lian Hearn, Nelson Mandela, Gautama Siddhartha, Mahatmas Gandhi, Lao Tzu, Sun Tzu, Jesus Christ and Hunter S. Thompson.
Also: Joseph Campbell, Syd Field, Christopher Vogler, Robert McKee, Blake Snyder, Anton Chekhov, Stan Lee, John Buscema, Scott McCloud, Scott McDaniel, J. Scott Campbell, Neal Adams, Reuben Apodaca, Dennis Grigoleit and Frank Miller.
Dedication,
This book is dedicated to you, the reader.
I sincerely hope you enjoy The Legacy of a Mad Scientist.
Best,
JC
Prologue – Bleeding Metal
February 23, 2288 ad.
Dr. Fox set the black metal device on the desk; he'd felt its need. The machine was hungry and would have to be fed. He looked around the facility and let the dull emptiness fill his ears.
The bay was abandoned at this hour. Decoratively spare to the point of empty, clusters of terminals stood separated by sheets of particleboard. Couches leaned against the cold metal walls.
Fox knew getting caught with a second unauthorized invention would be his last mistake; nothing would save him from another charge of treason. He looked out the window, procrastinating.
> Even in this he was frustrated, seeing only his reflection staring back from outside the glass. The conference center hovered at ten thousand feet, over international waters, where certain legislative restrictions could not reasonably be enforced. Here, the right to privacy was sacred. After all, that was the whole point of a secret weapons conference, out in the middle of nowhere.
Dr. Andrew Fox was tall and lean, his physique that of an obsessive scientist, who ate when he had to and rather resented the activity. The device was not as forgiving about its needs and flashed another reminder across his mind.
He scanned the area, again listening intently, taking every precaution before so blatantly exposing himself. Thank God the facility was used for dubious projects. During the past week, he’d searched but found no surveillance equipment. If there were no cameras, he was safe.
Fox triggered the feed tray and watched it extend from the rectangle, its matte finish absorbing light. He opened the center drawer of his assigned desk and fished out some change and a letter opener. He set the coins and blunt knife next to the feed tray and closed his eyes.
In his mind’s eye, Fox called forth the utility menu. He could operate the device with his eyes open, but it was easier to focus on the visual cues without the added distraction of sight. He enabled the ingestion program and checked the thing's vitals. Everything looked normal; the cache was low, available reserves in the mid range.
Fox opened his eyes. He knew the device could smell the metal and was aware it was about to be fed. He picked up a couple of coins and set them on the center of the plate. It was best to let it start slow. A moment later they began to sink, as if the face of the plate had turned to gel.
Fox closed his eyes and checked the activity display. The burn gauge spiked and other ingestion protocols buzzed with the activity of consumption as the coins were broken down and processed at the molecular level.
He felt dirty, as if he were somehow intruding and turned the display off. He piled the remaining coins on the plate and set the letter opener across the top. The previous coins were still being metabolized, and it would take some time to consume them all.
Fox watched the consumption of the coins. He could still see their faces, the wet metal had only half swallowed them. If it was going to be used, it had to be fed. That much was clear.
Still Fox wondered, What would happen if he left it somewhere, out in the middle of nowhere? Somewhere he could be rid of it once and for all. Somewhere like a weapons lab, way out over the ocean.
The doctor couldn't do that, wouldn't do that. He'd put so much effort into the thing's creation, its birth. Fox shook his head. Birth. A birth isn't invented. Why did that word assert itself? He took a breath and calmed himself.
Thoughts of revolting against the device were reassuring. IF it could influence him, surely it wouldn't allow him to entertain thoughts of open rebellion. It meant Fox was still in control. Yet he wondered, why does the thought of abandoning it feel like murder?
Fox loved it. He had created it. While he yearned to someday have a family of his own, at present all he had was the device.
He would live with his sin for one more day. Maybe tomorrow he would do something different. He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. He could still get some sleep before dawn.
He crossed to the couch in an upright crawl. The soft leather was cool against his face. He would have to shave before the long day of meetings.
Fox set a perimeter alert: while the computer consumed its coins, it would scan the area and wake him before anyone got too close.
Fox smiled as a concept arose in his mind.
Could he devise an algorithm that would allow the system to spread its processing power to other objects, instead of consuming them? It might be able to write to other items, which would then work for it, nodes in its network, slaves to a master. The Micronix could create bay stations for incoming data streams, instead of internalizing everything.
He was sure it could be done. He worked out the equations and committed them to memory, testing himself, intending to measure his recollection in the clear light of morning.
A solution to a long-standing problem within reach, relief washed through him. His muscles unknotted, and he drifted off to sleep.
Twenty minutes later Fox woke, suddenly startled. He looked across the room. The desk stood in place and black. The chair stood away from the desk, afraid to be near it.
Fox rubbed his eyes and looked again. The light-green desk was now matte black. He noticed the walls and ceiling. What used to be gunmetal blue had taken on a distinctly darker tone.
Dr. Fox remembered the equations he'd thought of earlier. He closed his eyes and focused. Sure enough, they had been recorded by the Micronix and filed under Upload Process Equations.
Fox pulled up the history logs, and there, dated just after the thought, was a new process, Upload Transfer. He terminated it.
It was possible the upload to the facility walls could be diffused enough to go unnoticed, or at least not be blamed on him. The desk was another issue all together. Fox opened the patio doors.
A toilet in the nearby restroom flushed, and a moment later Fox heard the sound of someone at the sink. He looked at the device, the coins and knife, stacked on the feed plate.
The consumption had stalled as the Micronix occupied itself with transferring data into the desk. The ends of the letter opener were stuck out through the sidewalls of the machine, its center being liquefied into nutrients for the kernel.
Fox pulled open the center desk drawer. It was metal; they were all metal. He couldn't put the device in there with an open feed plate. The machine would try to eat the desk, and he didn't want to imagine the results. That would involve discovery on a grand scale. The inky color of the desk was dangerous enough.
Dr. Fox activated a thirty-foot signal jam.
The Micronix confirmed the command as Rob Preston, one of the acquisitions guys, entered the terminal bay.
Fox smelled the scotch and cigars. Preston had been with the generals. Rob was one of those guys who behaved as if he were twenty, well into is forties. It worked for him. Fox didn't understand men who made a living by bartering partnerships. Preston measured success by return on investment, not tangible benefit, or contribution to all mankind.
Fox felt sorry for him, Preston could never understand the scientists he worked with. As long as Fox had known him, he'd never taken a stand on an issue. Though he had displayed a dangerous talent for parroting data, and a nose for loose investment capital.
"Fox, what's the deal? You're here late."
"Rest when I'm frozen," Fox replied.
"They'll never get that one. Long-term suspension? Fool's gold. What would we do with it if we had it?"
"Deep-space exploration, maybe?"
"No profit margin."
Fox rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"What's that?" Rob asked, nodding to the device on the desk.
Fox hesitated. He’d hoped Preston would miss it.
"Is that an undisclosed?" he asked.
"No," Fox smiled.
"You don't have any new projects on file with the DOD."
"How would you know?" Fox replied.
"People are watching you, and I know that is not on file." Preston was drunk, and the alcohol was catching up with him. "That's undisclosed, I fucking know it is." Preston tapped the side of his head.
The tapping of his head with his left hand, it would be the left eye that was wired. Probably a straight model, connected to the forebrain. He undoubtedly had a sub-dermal personal data recorder, probably a series of implants under an arm or along his hip.
Now Fox had to do something about the situation.
If Rob had kept his mouth shut, Fox could have denied it. The images from the retinal implant could have been scrubbed, and it would be one man's word against another. However, the audio feed would be hardwired to the storage, and now that would have to be erased, as well.
&nbs
p; Using the Micronix, Fox hacked the optical signal and accessed the executive's storage. Immediately Rob's security registered the intrusion and tried to shut Fox out. The doctor struggled with the daemons, but they had been upgraded. Fox recognized them. He didn't have the data wedges to crack their breakpoints. There was nothing he could do about the audio without burning his entire system.
In an instant, it was over, he was beaten.
Unless…
The satellite coverage was spotty, but maybe he could pull down the source code and find a structural gap big enough to drive a shim into. He needed to stall.
"You negotiate, right?" Fox asked.
Preston burped. “Okay sure. This sounds fun. What’s it do?”
“Anything you want really,” Fox replied.
Preston narrowed his eyes. “Anything?”
“Well, okay. Not anything. It’s a direct connection to the net, right in your head. No wires, no plugs, non-invasive technology. It beams a wireless signal directly into the forebrain. No Lag, No Drag. If you can imagine it, this will help you find it.”
“Doesn’t look like much,” Preston said.
Fox raised an eyebrow. Damn. The download had stalled.
He couldn’t tell Preston everything, but he needed to keep him interested until he could get another stream running.
“Are you kidding? This could replace an entire technological sector overnight, And, I just had a break trough, right now, before you walked in the room.”