Legacy of a Mad Scientist

by John Carrick

  “His majesty just got through saying you’re the defender of secrets.”

  “Not your secrets old pal, his. Besides, this isn’t a secret. Not really.”

  Von Kalt poured himself a generous measure of the amber alcohol and took one of the several available chairs around the coffee table.

  Von Kalt leaned forward, knocked glasses with both Secretary Croswell and Stanwood and took a swallow from his glass.

  “Do you know why Joseph here hates Dr. Fox? Because sophomore year, the girl Joe liked wanted Andrew instead. That’s one reason. You see Joe absolutely hates Andy Fox. Who wouldn’t? The kid was cool, you have to give him that, the girls love him; I mean Love him. But they don’t love you, do they Joey?” Croswell laughed, teasing his friend.

  “Get to your point, would you?” Stanwood wasn’t offended, only bored.

  “Fox was never scared of you. Everyone else was. Even I was.”

  “You were never afraid of me,” Stanwood said.

  “You have no idea how scary you are.” Croswell raised his drink.

  “These compliments, you’re going to make me blush.” Stanwood returned the toast.

  “But my point, is Wendell Meyer.”

  Stanwood rolled his eyes.

  “Back when we were in seventh grade, I think it was still the first or second week of school, and Wendell Meyer was the new kid our class. He was a year younger than all of us, incredibly smart, but kinda skinny and frail.”

  “He was three years younger us,” Stanwood recalled.

  “Oh, yes, that’s right, He’d tested up. Smart kid.” Croswell sipped at his scotch. “Well, one day after swimming, Wendell slipped and got trapped under the hydraulic pool cover. We were all back there, watching how it worked, and we got too close.

  “Wendell always said he didn’t slip. He claimed that he got pushed, or bumped but that he didn’t know who did it. No one ever saw who did it, and no one ever confessed. Fox and Stanwood had been the two guys closest to him, but we were all there. It could have been any of us, really.

  “Fox, he went home from school every day that year, and then spent all summer working on his first invention, his first creation. He came back at the beginning of eighth grade with the Blue Goo. Of course, it was a lot more concentrated back then. But it worked. It worked like magic.

  “You see, Wendell was laid up all year, had a grip of pins in his knee. The doctors wanted to replace it all together, but because he was so young, he would have had to have at least two, maybe three more replacement surgeries before twenty-five. A little more pain now would save him a lot more pain in the future, was how his mom figured it. And with major replacements, he’d be ineligible to participate in sports, and even though he was a nerd, she didn’t want to take that away from him.”

  “Wait a second, Wendell Meyer? The tennis star?” Von Kalt asked.

  “Yep,” Croswell answered.

  “He really made his money in ping pong,” Stanwood added.

  “Oh yeah, he’s got that Scientific Principles of Ping Pong series, right? He wears that blue wrap on his left knee,” Von Kalt said.

  “Yep,” Croswell answered. “The parents eat that shit up.”

  Stanwood drained half his scotch.

  “And Fox created the Blue Goo for him?” Von Kalt looked into his glass. “Well, there’s your answer, isn’t it?”

  “What’s that?” Croswell asked.

  “Fox bumped this kid, Wendell, and he created the goo because he felt guilty about it,” Von Kalt said.

  Stanwood smiled.

  “No,” Croswell said. “That’s not what happened. I suspect that Stanwood here did the bumping, and Wendell knew, didn’t he?”

  “Honestly,” Stanwood set his glass on the table. “I don’t know. Sometimes, over the years, I’ve thought maybe it was me. Sometimes I remember that I wasn’t that close to him. It doesn’t matter. We were just kids. I maybe teased him a bit that week, but I never pushed him. Whatever happened, it certainly wasn’t on purpose. My conscience is clear.”

  Croswell smiled. “It’s also true that when Fox brought in that huge tub of goo, and we had our little testing session, you didn’t participate. All of us got a king’s ransom in the patent settlement, but you got nothing.”

  Stanwood wasn’t ruffled. “I’m not bitter about that either. I’ve done pretty well for myself. I’m not trying to outdo Fox, or you, or any of the guys in our class.”

  Stanwood leaned forward and gestured to Jim with his drink. “I need you to think about what I’m about to do and what I’m about to say. Not some ancient history bullshit.

  “Fox is Dangerous.

  “Epsilon was his screw-up. I had nothing to do with it. If Fox is unwilling to leave Angel City, and every other major metropolitan sector of this country, then he should be forcibly removed. I think he’s a danger to himself and others, period, end of story.

  “The Commander in Chief asked me to keep my mouth shut in there today. I am going to do my best to do just that. But before we go in there, and preside over this cluster-fuck, there is one thing I’d like to ask you…

  “As you mentioned, I didn’t participate in Fox’s little testing session. But you did. You convinced that lunatic to go steal a sword from the school trophy case and cut your arm off with it.

  “From what I understand, being healed with the blue goo permanently stains the scar and the effected skin. For example, Wendell has a discolored blue area he hides under that blue wrap.”

  “Are you making a point?” Croswell asked, taking another swallow.

  “Well, I’ve recently gotten wind of a technology that can remove those sort of stains, in a rather unique sort of way,”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Interested?”

  “I’m fine. Thanks.”

  “Does it ever itch?” Stanwood asked. “I’m told there’s something of an itchy or burning sensation often associated…”

  “I’ll give you a burning sensation,” Croswell laughed.

  Stanwood turned to Von Kalt, “If Fox gets out of line, the left knee.”

  “Yes, sir,” Von Kalt said, finishing his drink.

  Croswell laughed, “This is going to be great.”

  “I’m not afraid of Andrew,” Stanwood said, finishing his drink.

  “It’s Ross you ought to be afraid of,” Croswell said.

  “Why should I be afraid of a dead guy?” Stanwood asked.

  “Didn’t you hear? No body at the scene. He must have gotten out the back. I’m guessing he’s pissed.”

  “There was no out-the-back,” Von Kalt said. “We spent three hours in that hovel. There was one door.”

  “I guess you missed it. Fire department found it easy enough.” Croswell set down his glass.

  It was almost two-thirds full. In fact, it seemed there was more alcohol left than Stanwood had originally poured into the cup.

  Croswell smiled. “Please don’t do anything stupid in there, Joe. Like the President said, if Andrew really can blow up buildings with a thought, lets not set him thinking about it.”

  “Okay, you know what, for old times sake, I won’t say a word. I promise, not a word. Let’s just see what happens.” Stanwood extended his hand to shake on it.

  Croswell nodded and shook hands with a guy he’d known almost as long as he’d been alive.

  “Look at it this way, if Fox blows us up, you can always say you told me so.” Croswell laughed.

  Stanwood smiled, “You know I will. And the devil will make me a trustee in no time, and then where will you be? Under my forky-thing, that’s where.”

  Stanwood and Croswell laughed as they rose to head out to the waiting transport.

  Fox and King returned to their vehicle and hovered above the city until just before noon.

  Using the Micronix, Dr. Fox pulled up the children’s’ charts in his mind’s eye. The dedicated satellite found them close to home, running down a canyon path with Jack. The nearby individuals were al
l children; no adults were present. Fox leaned back into his seat and watched traffic drift around the cruiser.

  After all the other incoming parties had arrived, they touched down and secured the craft. King exited behind Fox and invisible, floated above as Fox entered the briefing hall.

  A moment later, Fuji Dozo gave the signal for departure. With the hatches sealed and loading ramps disconnected, the facility jettisoned from its docking station.

  Chapter 16 – Rusty Bucket

  Thursday, June 25, 2308

  The clamshell-shaped hall was dominated by a mahogany table at the lowest level, opposite two rows of six tables each, arrayed in gentle curves before it. The tables held pitchers, filled with water and microphones, set into slender vases, at the center. Chairs were gathered around.

  The bodyguards stood behind the chairmen’s assigned seats. The second row of delegates sat on a higher tier, so the standing mercenaries didn't obscure them from the front.

  The outer shell of the hall was composed of tinted sheaves of glass, attached to massive hinges at the far sides of the room. Outside, a wide balcony held cafe tables naked against the sky.

  Fox entered the alcove at the back of the hall and found Croswell and Stanwood waiting for him. Stanwood’s shadow, Deputy Director Von Kalt, was nowhere to be seen.

  "Was the mole hunt necessary?" Fox asked.

  "It would seem so," Stanwood said. "Considering."

  “Considering what?” Fox asked.

  “In the past two hours there were over a hundred treasonable acts committed. Thirty suspects are already in custody, and another twenty have been terminated. I suspect that, by the end of business, over fifty people will be charged. A resounding success.”

  “A mole hunt with a hundred suspects means the problem is systemic. It can’t be rooted out in a single pass. It’s a corrupt culture, not a cure,” Fox said.

  Stanwood rolled his eyes, but Croswell laughed.

  “Is everyone here?” Fox asked.

  “The Varashavya convoy never showed,” Croswell answered. “But everyone else did, and it looks like they all brought their donations too.”

  “Are we going to do this, or what?” Stanwood asked.

  “Yeah, let’s get it over with,” Fox said.

  Fox, Stanwood and Croswell entered the main hall, walked to the center dais and took their seats at the table.

  Congressman Harris stood and addressed the room, "Gentlemen," he said. "As I look around today, I see some of the most influential men of the world. Senators Clarke, Grey and Miller, Citizens Morgan, Roth and Anderson. And I dare not leave out the youngest personage present." Harris grinned. "Citizen Pierce, you must be hardly out of your teens."

  Pierce was obscured behind four mammoth crates of cash.

  "He certainly seems interested, doesn't he, Dr. Fox?" Harris said.

  Fox had heard about the young Pierce, he had an explosive temper and a penchant for gunfights. He had no doubt the cases were props for some idiotic outburst, unless Harris goaded him into one early.

  Harris addressed Pierce directly, "You know, the installments are just a show of good faith. It goes straight to the treasury department, to offset operating costs. Fox doesn't see a dime. We're all interested in success of this project." Harris spoke to Pierce, but Fox suspected the words were meant for him.

  Before Pierce could rise to Harris’s challenge, Senator Clarke cut him off. "Let’s get to it. We all know why we're here." He nodded to Fox, gesturing for him to get started.

  “Yes, Senator.” Fox stood with exaggerated slowness. He slipped his chair into place and came around from behind the table. "I don't know if you read the report. It wasn't sabotage. It was the interface. The human variable is too unstable. It's over."

  "Okay, but unstable how?" Senator Clarke asked.

  "Initially, it discriminated based on intellect. The smart ones survived, and acquired more power than they knew what to do with."

  "Ha! We could call it life," Harris joked.

  A few delegates laughed.

  "We could," Fox said. "In the end, they all died."

  "What was the initial ratio?" Senator Clarke asked.

  "Ratio?" Fox replied.

  "Success to failure, one to one, two to one?" the senator inquired.

  "One to one, but that's irrelevant. Today, it is one to forty thousand."

  Clarke conferred with Senator Miller and Congressman Harris, who held and pointed to sections in the summary of Fox’s report. After a moment, they returned their attention to Fox.

  "What's interfacing?" Congressman Harris asked, reading from the table of contents.

  "What?" Fox asked, surprised. He realized the Senators were fully aware of the project; they were going to make him lay it out for them.

  "You said interfacing?" Harris asked. "You called this the Mental Computer Interface? Is that correct?"

  Dr. Fox scanned the crowd. They weren't scientists; they had no idea what he was talking about. Harris, Clarke and Miller knew everything, but no one else did. They hadn't read the report; after all, this was the briefing.

  Jack and Geoff escaped Ashley's line of sight while she'd been distracted by the kite boards. She ran off after them, frustrated to have let them get away. She had no problem chasing after them; she kind of enjoyed the responsibility. Except when Geoff got into something before she could stop him, then she resented the authority and the responsibility.

  From around the bend, and down a shallow slope, she heard Jack barking. Geoff and Jack had disturbed a group of older boys doing tricks on their hoverboards in a shallow forest bowl.

  Ashley rounded the corner, and slid down to where Geoff was being lectured. He looked scared, and Jack barked wildly. Above the racket, Ash heard a familiar voice.

  When the older boys saw her, they forgot about Geoff. At their center was Evan Dunkirk.

  Ashley stopped a little distance away.

  Jack ran over to her. Ash knelt to pet him.

  She was old enough to understand the differences between men and women, and knew that physical beauty could cause strange reactions in people, especially boys. She was aware she possessed this characteristic by the way people behaved around her. Young men had a tendency to stare, and adults would speak more politely or be more reserved around her. It allowed Ashley to be more reserved in general.

  "You ought to keep that thing on a leash," Evan snapped at her.

  Ashley had also noticed that not all the attention she received was positive. "Why's that?" she asked, calmly.

  "Cause dogs in the park have to have a leash. Those are the rules, and you know it." Evan popped his hoverboard against the ground. It hummed as the charge built up.

  "Those same rules say hoverboards need a leash," she said.

  Evan took his foot off the board, and it shot toward Ashley. She didn't move. It missed her, but only by a tiny bit.

  "See, where's your leash?" she asked.

  Jack pursued the board across the forest floor.

  "What's your problem, Fox?" Evan asked.

  "You," Ashley replied.

  "No, I'm the solution.”

  Evan's friends gasped, chuckled and giggled at her.

  "Oh, that's a threat?" Ashley asked.

  "Yeah, what are you going to do about it?" he taunted.

  Ashley smiled, "I guess I'll let you live, this time."

  Evan’s friends burst into laughter.

  "Yeah, I'm scared.”

  In the distance, Jack wrestled with the board, which continued to slip away from him.

  "If that animal slobbers on my board, you're going to have a real problem," Evan growled.

  "Jack," Ashley called the beagle.

  Jack trotted over and sat next to her.

  Evan's board continued to drift away, sliding downhill.

  "Come on, Geoff. Let's go somewhere else," Ashley said.

  "Yeah, come on, Jack," Geoffrey echoed.

  "You're not going anywhere, until someone goes and
gets my board."

  Ash looked at the board. It had drifted a good way down the canyon. In the distance, she saw two other kids, playing at being soldiers, creeping closer to the confrontation. She looked back to Evan.

  "Go get it, yourself," Ash replied, with all the condescension she could muster.

  Evan's friends snickered and laughed. He glared over his shoulder at one of the laughing kids and snapped, "Jason, you think it's so funny, you go get it."

  "Why me?" Jason replied.

  "Cause you still have a board. Unless you want me to knock you off of it."

  Evan took a couple of steps toward Jason, who retreated by sliding away. "I'd rather hit a fat kid than a girl!" Evan roared.

  Jason turned and angled down the hill.

  Ash saw Doug and Jamie, moving along the tree line, a few feet behind the bigger kids. Doug signaled two kids she hadn't seen yet. She spotted them, hiding near a dense thicket of brush.

  Jason gained speed as he approached the board. He scooped it up from a crouched position and made a wide turn back uphill. He bounced his board a few times, charging it to gain some elevation, and coasted back toward the group of kids.

  Suddenly, something big and heavy came flying toward his head. He wiped out, both boards flying away from him and sliding downhill.

  "What the hell?" Jason yelled, already angry. "Who threw that?"

  Jack growled and began barking again. Ash slid the choke chain around his neck.

  "That's right, leash your bitch, bitch," Evan said. He stepped forward, his arm raised overhead, close enough to swing at her.

  Ash remembered how he'd punked Bobby. She didn't flinch.

  The canyon went silent. Even the birds made no sound.

  Chapter 17 – The Micronix

  "I see some new faces, so let me start over," Fox said. "Gentlemen, you are here to check on an investment, correct? That investment was the Micronix or Mental Computer Interface. It was marketed to your agencies as a major leap in telecommunications."

  Fox jumped into the pitch. "A single device that could translate and transmit any intercepted data stream, directly to the user's mind. A signal into your head." He'd given this pitch a thousand times.