by John Carrick
Lopez and Shou had an argument right there in front of all of us. They went off to the side, but I could still hear them good enough. Lopez said I was an embarrassment to them as instructors; that the entire class was getting their Asses handed to them by a wafe.
I have to look that up when I get home. I have no idea what a wafe is.
Shou defended me though. He said I was great. The students were getting a powerful dose of lesson number one.
Clearly said that they were lucky. He said that me beating up the boys was easier to explain than letting twenty boys beat up a girl. He said that, for over a week, the boys had been trading deserts and chores for the chance to fight me. He said I was the Holy Grail of the program.
I like Everest better. Aside from all that, I am Not Getting Hit.
I’m practicing Lesson Number Two, Don’t Get Hit. In fact, I’m pretty sure it should be moved up to Number One.
Wednesday Evening, July 15, 2308
After examining two days worth of footage, Von Kalt sent two three-man teams in. They located the rooms they believed to belong to the children and found them to be electronically locked.
They could be breached, shorted out, or possibly hacked, but not without attracting some attention.
The teams were ordered to return to base.
Thursday, July 16, 2308
Some time after midnight, Fox rose from meditation and walked through the front door of his cell. All that remaining night, that day, and the next, Fox walked the surrounding sands and creek beds. He explored the empty space between earth and sky. Fox felt himself go into the air and then into the sand. He spoke to it, and a moment later, he was there, standing.
Up till this point, his explorations had been as an insubstantial being. But now he was standing. His sandals now left imprints in the sand.
It wasn’t long before one of the guards came across Fox’s footprints. However, as they started from nowhere and evaporated into nowhere, the investigation yielded little in the way of explanations.
And after all, it couldn’t be the prisoner.
The cameras showed him, clearly still seated in his cell.
He ate at meal times and reclined after dark.
Chapter 37 – Hardwired
Sunday, July 19, 2308
On the third afternoon, after leaving his cell, Fox sat on the small rise, feeling the warmth of the air and the radiance of the sun, absorbed and reflected by the crystals of the sand.
He pushed his attention into the sand, the silica crystals of sodium-two hydrogen. Once superheated, it melts into glass and then slowly evaporates into the atmosphere; Exactly like Terillium.
Fox looked out at the watery haze of heat, rising from the flat white plane. Terillium was not unique in its solid structure. Most heavy metals, as well as crystals, evaporated into the air.
Terillium was not unique.
It did not need to be mined, Fox realized.
All Atoms were once Terillium Atoms.
And that, as such, all atoms could be reverted back to their original state, fully turned on - as Terillium.
Fox thrust his hand into the loose grains. If he wanted, he could revert the atoms. And he understood; that was how Epsilon had reduced itself to a single amplifier.
Fox scooped up a handful of grains and let them run through his fingers. First they rained out as gold, then as silver and finally as snowflakes, before evaporating completely in the heat of the late afternoon.
As the sunlight reached Fox, on the eighth minute of its journey from the surface the yellow dwarf star at the center of the solar system, Fox saw how each particle’s life cycle was forever repeated. It broke free from the sun, perfect. It heated the atmosphere and then the particle struck the sand itself, penetrating the silica, sinking and shedding disguises until eventually merging with the planet’s terillium deposits.
The heat that was reflected back from the planet, or say from the surface of the moon, would continue to cool until settling somewhere.
Fox saw clearly; he did not need an amplifier.
Everything was Terillium.
Everything was him.
He was everything.
He laughed.
Ashley’s Journal, Monday, July 21, 2308
After getting disqualified two matches in a row, I tried to restrain myself a bit. I’ve been practicing what they teach us and I’m working with the boys on their level.
I am actually putting forth a genuine effort to practice Mrs. Rabier's advice. I don’t know why. It just seems easier than fighting.
This way, we’re all learning more than we could if we were fighting.
With each other, the boys respond to everything with violence. None of their petty arguments are personal. They don’t even know each other. It’s all about ego and dominance.
When I stand up there in front of some kid and they blow the whistle, I’m not facing his record, or his reputation. It’s just him and me.
I treat him just like I would any of the boys in the canyon back home.
But they treat each other like wild animals. They stare each other in the chest and only look their opponent in the face to taunt or insult each other. They lose focus looking each other in the eye, and then wonder why their attacks fail.
This is more than just physical coordination and ability. I go out of my way to make eye contact. Once I do, if they continue to advance on me, I consider it an act of betrayal. The friend I spoke to in that glance wouldn't attack me. Anyone who does is no longer a friend.
I just wait for them. I watch and I wait, and when they move, I move first. I always wait for the attack. I’m the girl; I don’t have to attack. And from all my ballet practice, I am soooo fast.
They are really no match for me. It’s not fair; I can break any of them, anytime I want. It’s the isolation, away from the ring, that bothers me most. It’s almost over now though, just a few more days.
Friday morning we go home! I honestly can’t wait for a whole day of sleep. That’s all I want, sleep. I’m going to sleep for a week. Then I’m going to get up and take a nap.
Tuesday, July 21, 2308
"I met with Senator Miller this afternoon," Stanwood told Fox, unseen, through the plastic door. "He doesn't like you. And apparently someone ransacked his office, so it seems Miller isn’t much liked either."
Fox laughed, sitting in his cell, legs crossed, eyes closed.
"For what it's worth, I told him this is wrong,” Stanwood said. “I believe we have no legal right to be holding you like this. It's not up to me, of course. As a suspected traitor, technically, we can hold you forever, but we'd need to strip you of your citizenship. They're trying to get the paperwork through justice. Believe me, once they do, this gate won't stay closed. Miller wants to use the same tech you developed for Black Willow.”
Stanwood paused.
“Can you believe it? I don't know if that's the textbook definition of irony, but it makes me smile.” The smile came through in his voice.
Fox didn’t answer.
"So, here's the deal. You have until the Attorney General signs whatever warrants he's going to sign. You have that long to save your family. He's going to sign the warrants, and when he does, you and your family will be stripped of your citizenship rights.
"Miller already has a lien on your wife and children. He’s claiming them as line items in previous budgets. He says he owns them, and the first thing he intends to do is cut them up, to see what you've got going on under the hood.
“I explained that if he did that, we wouldn't have any leverage on you. I got him to agree to just take one, preferably your wife, and to let us use the children to keep you talking. I figure, that way, everyone gets something. It’s all about compromise, after all. You still have some interest in cooperating and thereby ensuring your children's continued safety.”
Fox heard fear in Stanwood's voice.
“We all know your wife was a traitor to the republic before you even met her. So there
’s no doubt about what is going to happen to her."
“She is a patriot, as am I,” Fox said, hearing even a little fear in his own voice.
"We know he's going to sign them, the AG thinks you're dangerous enough that we don't have to wait for you to betray the country. After what happened at Epsilon, it's in the nation's best interests to remove you from society.
"By the way, did you know they have a triggerman on your block? Apparently, they have a wet worker, dedicated to you, undercover for the almost seven years now, Mister Justin Case."
Stanwood fell silent for a moment.
Fox remained motionless.
"That's what they've got lined up for your pretty wife and those two adorable children, unless you talk. Right now.”
Stanwood waited.
"You have answers they want, and if you don't tell me, they're going after your family. Don't you even care?”
“I care, and you do not exist.”
At the same moment, several hundred meters away, Fox sat on the small sand dune. There was no point in thinking about Stanwood, about where he was being kept or if he would be rescued in time.
There was no in time.
There was only now.
Fox spread his fingers and his power into and through the tiny crystalline grains and contemplated his existence.
Sand, mostly silicon, number fourteen, a chemical analog for carbon. Fox pushed his sensory perception into the grains of matter surrounding him. He could feel himself, he could feel the earth as himself. At the same time, he could feel himself inside his cell and could hear Stanwood make his idle threats.
What he found strange was how normal, how natural it felt.
He had not changed.
It felt more like he had come home and that home was all of creation.
Chapter 38 – Issue the Order
Wednesday, July 22, 2308
It was still early in the morning when Stanwood arrived. Fox had come to recognize the sound of his shuttle.
A few minutes later, Stanwood spoke from the other side of the opaque door. "The Attorney General still hasn't signed your arrest warrant, but he will, and when he does, it's not just you. We're closing down everything, all your projects, everything, unless you tell me what I want to know. You can stop all of this. Just say the word.”
Fox opened his eyes. The opaque door was closed.
“Suppose I were to cooperate? I would need you to swear to leave my wife and kids out of it.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“You have to swear.”
“You have my word.”
“Then I guess you’ll want the codes to my secret bases?” Fox offered.
“Yes,” Stanwood said. “To start with.”
“There are three you need to get to rather quickly, seven in total, oh, wait, nine. Just find my Chief Operations Officer, Angus MacPhail.”
“Angus MacPhail?” Stanwood asked.
“Yeah, yes.”
“Where will I find him?” Stanwood asked.
“Glasgow, usually. He’s a security consultant. Schedule a lunch with him and ask about the Manx kipper rouge. You have to get this just right. If you don’t get the code word right, he’s under standing orders to destroy everything. Tell him you heard it was good and ask if you should try it.”
“The Manx kipper rouge?”
“Yes, just like that. He’s got the keys to three units we have in the UK and to all our research material, all my secrets, everything is hidden on the Midway.”
“After that, you need to go see Henry Porter. He keeps rooms at the Anserini-Chen Lodge in Dresden. You can find him any time during the Annual Snipe Hunt, which is all summer basically. We’ve got an industrial park just over the border in Czechoslovakia, Wolpertinger Industrial Park. He’s the only guy who can get you across the check point.”
“Okay.”
“Pay attention, Joseph, you only get one shot at this.”
“Is there anything I need to tell Mister Porter?”
“Oh, yes. Tell him his real name in Charles. Tell him I said Hi and to give you whatever you want.”
“And the third one,” Stanwood asked.
“John Wyndham. You’ll find him in Los Angeles, Chile and he’ll take you to Patagonia and from there onto McMurdo Station in Antartica.”
“Can’t we just go straight there from here?”
“You could, but John has the keys.”
“I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses,” Stanwood said.
Fox laughed.
“What’s so funny?” The intel director asked.
"Stanwood. You coward, did you touch it yet?”
Stanwood didn't answer.
"You know you're the only one they left out. Everyone else knew. You do realize that, don't you? They've all been interfaced already, all your superiors. Miller, Phillips, Croswell, even the old man himself. They're all on the inside.
“You're the scapegoat. By coming after me, you're doing them a favor. They'd love to see us kill each other.”
"Wake up, Fox, it's you in the cell. You're the loose cannon. But maybe you're right. Perhaps I'm overextended, but you're being naive if you think you're untouchable. From a mathematical perspective, this was inevitable. You have crossed too many lines.”
"I'm just one person, Joe. You can kill me, but you can't control all of mankind. Maybe no one else will frighten you, the way I do, but you've never been of any interest to me. You can't stop evolution. I am insignificant. You are insignificant. You have no real power.
“By the way, I’ve cut off your access to my networks. I found the hole you were exploiting. You won’t access President Conway’s footnote files anymore.”
Stanwood remained quiet.
“You thought I wouldn’t figure it out?” Fox asked.
“Bite me, Andrew,” Stanwood retorted.
"Look at us," Fox continued. "Here I am helpless, locked in a cell, but you're so scared you can't even face me as a man. You need someone else's approval, someone else's permission to shoot me while I'm handcuffed. Tell me, who's the coward here?”
"I'm not afraid of you.”
"Then open the door. If I'm not who you're afraid of, who is it?”
"I'm not stupid, Andrew. We're going to find the prototype, and then we won't need to keep you around. It will all come out in the wash.”
Fox burst into laughter. "You idiot, it was in my pocket! When your men arrested me, it was in my pocket. You're worried about evidence and procedure. There's not going to be any trial. I'm a national hero, you idiot. The cover up has already started, and you, my friend, are not invited to the after party.”
"That's impossible.”
"I think it's more likely your own men don't answer to you.”
“I’m going to check out your info. This will go a long way in your defense.”
“God, what would you do without someone to double-check all your decisions?” Fox laughed as Stanwood stomped from the cell door.
Obviously Stanwood’s number two, Von Kalt, was in possession of the Metachron now.
How long would it take the Metachron’s new disciple to seek him out? Would he even bother?
He might go after Ashley, after all, she has the Micronix now.
Fox could never have predicted the Metachron’s appearance. It could unbalance everything.
To think Astral, Ashley rather, to think she, a mere slip of a girl, could be ready for what Fox knew must be coming. He had miscalculated, terribly. Fox feared the Metachron had entered a transition cycle, like a caterpillar going into a cocoon before emerging as a butterfly.
Fox remembered that Butterflies had horrifically short life spans. They were terribly beautiful for a terribly short period of time.
Chapter 39 – Visitations in the Desert
Thursday Evening, July 23, 2308
As the sun reached the horizon, Fox noticed a figure cresting it. From where he sat on the bluff, he could hear the patrols behind him
.
He watched the creature approach from the west. He could tell it was a four-legged animal, but it was some time before he could see it was a cat and not a dog or coyote. Before it became any clearer, the animal disappeared into a shallow wash.
In the desert, the cat pressed on, padding forward, its robotic legs pulling it forward across the sand, gliding as smoothly as any cat in real life ever did.
Fox could feel the animal as it continued its approach. He could feel the vibrations caused by the padded feet, each step bringing it closer. A few minutes after the sun had set, but long before its light had faded from the sky, the mechanical cat emerged from the shallow ravine.
Fox could hear the hum of electrical components, capacitors and servos, magnetic fibers contracting and releasing as the animal continued its approach. The robot wore a tawny blonde fur coat, its whiskers and ears shifting in the breeze.
Its eyes looked directly at Fox and spoke to his mind in the voice of his wife. “Te really outdid himself time.”
Fox smiled.
In a single moment, his mind shifted through the emotions of envy, curiosity, frustration and then fascination.
Te had obviously continued down the path they had originally started on. Using the progress they had made wiring the centaurs, he seemed to have reversed the process. Fox realized that he had simply re-mapped the translator, in effect, placing the user inside the robot, as opposed to bringing the robot’s senses directly to the user. On one end, he mapped the user’s mind, then simply projected it to meet a shell program inside the robot.
Te’s creation was impressive; there was no doubt about it. The electro-magnetic muscle fibers behaved like real muscle only better. The carbon-nano coat and protective layers made the cat water and bulletproof, while the terillium chassis and frame gave an operator complete control over the cat’s weight, elevation and momentum.