by M. R.
"We will let you leave."
"We want our friend first."
A laugh. "Sure," said Number Three. "Unplug him and take his corpse."
"What my subordinate is trying to say is, we've seen those pods before. They're for preservation. Life support."
"What happened?" Derek's voice shook. He had to buy time, account for Connor and August. He wanted to believe when he had said they'd scattered, they understood he was talking to them and left. He wanted to believe it was just him in the room. Everything was okay as long as they were gone.
"Your friend must be gone by now," said Number One.
"It happens," added Number Three.
A gasp. Abbey. By the portal.
A high pitched winding. A machine charging.
"My second subordinate has the girl."
"Not quite," said Abbey. Benzai-two yelped, feeling his metal armor crunch around him.
"She's controlling my armor," he muttered through the pain. "I can't move. Armor is glitching."
"Alright," said Derek. "Considering what you did to our friend, you don't care about anyone else. We leave then you get your sight back. You kill us, you’re blind forever."
"Like hell," said Number Three. "I think–"
"Silence," said Benzai-one. "Leader, gather your team and get out."
Derek couldn't see the menacing armor, the cold black masks. He only heard her sincerity.
"Rocky Road, you here me?" he called out.
When the room went blind, August had come to a halt. In the dark, he shuffled forward, still moving towards the center. But he tripped, falling to the ground. Reaching behind him, touching out to feel what he stumbled over, he grasped cloth, a coat, Connor. A hand grasped him, holding tight. He tried to reach for Derek, for Abbey, but afraid for Connor, his telepathy could only reach for him, his fallen teammate. He held Connor's hand, tears falling, feeling Connor's pain and fear as his mind slowly slipped away. They didn't hear Derek or the Benzai. The world was dark and silent. August held Connor tight, hugging him, trying to make him feel warm, like the tighter he grasped the body the tighter his mind could grasp the mind fading. But he knew he was going and would be gone; so he showed him some place special, a place where a large tree was surrounded by flowers, surrounded by plains of grain, where the stars twinkled in the daytime at his command. There. Connor. Faint, but there. He looked at August. Smiled. And was gone. The body in August's arms went limp. He saw his teammate, lifeless in his arms. But he would've gone blind forever to pull his friend back to him.
Benzai-Three took aim. Number One shouted out; Derek ran for August.
BOOOOOOOOM!
Derek jumped in front of the blast, wrapping himself around August, the two lifting off the floor, sailing through the air, crashing through the window. They landed hard on the dirt as shards of glass rained around them.
BOOM!
Derek grasped August's hand as the blast sent them sliding across the ground.
"August!"
No reply. His eyes were closed.
Derek couldn't move. He was too weak. Connor? Abbey? Where were they?
Benzai-three appeared above, hovering.
BOOM! A blast to Benzai-three's back.
"That was a warning, Hajime," said Number One.
"Stay away from them! Or I'll...I'll kill him!" yelled Abbey. Benzai-two screamed.
"Your leader was right, little girl," said Number Three. "We don't give a damn."
"I do." The Benzai Commander charged her cannon.
Benzai-three redirected his cannon at his superior.
"You fire," she said, "and your life is over."
Central Command had strict policies against insubordination, considered equal to treason. Hajime, Benzai-three, had an itchy trigger finger, but concrete proof of an attack against his commanding officer in a system that worshipped hierarchy would mean execution–he'd disappear, like he had never existed.
Abbey watched the stand off, wishing she could do something: create a magnetic pulse to drain their armor of power (she should've thought of that earlier), get to Derek and August and...something. But her powers were concentrated on Benzai-two, she didn't trust he was weak enough to be released.
"I can help," he now said. "My captain wishes a calm resolution. I can help her."
Could she trust him? Would he follow his superior's orders or turn against her like his friend?
She released–Benzai-two swung his robotic arm, smashing her against the wall. She fell to the floor. Quiet.
Benzai-two aimed his cannon.
"Katsume, what are you doing?" said Number One, seeing Number Two's barrel pointed at her.
"I'm sorry, Aika. But you see this..." His cannon wavered; his legs shook. "These chikara...there are so many...they are organizing into armies. WE have to wipe them out...before it's too late."
"Now," said Hajime. They fired; their former leader making one last charge. The concussive blasts struck her in the chest and she flew back. She struggled to her feet...
BOOM BOOM! And she fell, helpless.
Katsume fired his cannon at Abbey, releasing a glue that bound her. They'd take her, interrogate her, find out what she knew about the chikara. Hajime snuck up behind his ally. He pushed the helmet release button, knocked off his partner's mask, and fired a light blast in his face. Katsume fell at his feet.
Rising into the air, Hajime glided out the window. Derek, nearly paralyzed from pain and fatigue, had gotten onto his knees, then staggered to his feet, now dragging August down the hill.
"Wake up, August. You gotta wake up."
August was still. He had heard his friend, his leader, but couldn't move, trapped in his own body. Physically or mentally, he couldn't reach out.
"You chikara are an infestation."
BOOM!
Derek clung to August, they tumbled over the rocky dirt.
August was hanging by one arm, his hand in Derek's. But his other arm was dangling through the air. A sound. Crashing waves. Against rocks.
Derek looked over the cliff. He couldn't save him–August was going to die–they were going to die. Abbey? Connor? If they could have, they'd be here, fighting.
"You are a plague to humanity. But the fire of Benzaiten will cleanse the planet."
The cannon whined: the charge built.
Instinct. The will to live. The desperation of fear. Where do we find the strength to lift cars and climb mountains when Life depends on it the most? How do we do the impossible when Crisis comes, rendering Thought useless, silent? Why does the intelligence and divinity of Intuition only come in the dark?
August rose. He looked at his body, dangling over the cliff. Derek was terrified, his fingers barely clasping the dangling body, his own body shaking with exhaustion. And there hovered Benzaiten...motionless, the pleasure of witnessing Derek's hopelessness coming off him in waves.
BOOM!
August plunged his fists into Derek's back, his hands sinking into the body. He sprawled his fingers open–Derek sprung alive, his chest heaving forward, his hands balled into fists as his body let off a tidal wave of sonic energy dissolving the blast, overcoming Benzaiten, shattering his mask, shredding his armor, rippling through the edifice, the glass shuddering then blowing from the panes.
Derek fell to his knees...then to the ground. August. He rolled to his back, and saw his last friend standing over him, translucent, a ghost.
"Augie, no. You can't leave me."
" Abbey's alive. I'm..." He vanished.
Blackout.
<<>>
"We should've done something." Susie. "You said it was a low security facility."
"There was nothing we could do. We had to pick our moment to go in." Dr. Farling.
"I could've smashed–"
"You wouldn't have gotten close enough. I've seen the Benzaiten's capabilities in demonstrations. We did the right thing–the only sane thing." Her voice trembled.
"Look–"
"Silence, Susie. Plea
se..." A sniffle. "Just focus on getting us home."
Derek couldn't open his eyes. He didn't want to. He saw Augie sitting in the void before him. He smiled; August smiled back.
CHAPTER FOUR
The State of Our Great Projects
In the rear of Cassandra Farling's office, there is a metal nub on the floor attached to the base molding. Small, slim, and obscured by the shadow of a tall plant, it is nearly invisible to the naked eye. With the press of a foot, the nub activates, creating a split in spacetime, a portal to a negative space that is not here, but there. In this blackness now, Daniel Sutheford, inheritor and CEO of Hyperion enterprises, is seated, awaiting the arrival of Dr. Farling, who he assumed was informing Silby Masters and Cliff O'Brien that their presence were not necessary for this particular meeting. In the meantime, he divided his attention between the tragic events of the day and the holographic image of the news anchor giving his report:
"Today marks the fiftieth anniversary of The Great Deal, a global initiative to recover from the universal depression that ravaged both the western and eastern hemispheres..." In The Great Era, economic unions are at the forefront of worldwide politics. Centered around the theories of "Project-Based Economics" and "Web Economics," each union, a collective of governments, pooled and focused their resources around a single "futuristic" project of visionary ambition, leading to a smorgasbord of technological advances in various fields. Generally considered a success, there is still a concern, some say a paranoia, around the largely militaristic vision of the mother projects, some even fearing that the combination of economic-turned-political ties between major governments and the mass weaponizing of the projects could lead to an apocalyptic third world war.
However today, the state of the unions are stable. The solidified European Union, based in London, continues to work on The Air Naval Program, also known as Leviathan, a fleet of airborne carriers and military bases housing the leading fighter aircrafts. The once literary moors of the English countryside are now the grounds for construction, a field where Leviathan's carcasses are laid. Meanwhile, university labs continue to research the union funded project. The advances in hover technology which may allow for Leviathan's flight has already revolutionized public transportation through the creation of turbulence-reduced, fuel-efficient, superspeed hoverjets and hovermetros. As the European continent and Russia seem to have found a balance of authority that is efficient and equitable, all eyes are still on the disconcertingly quiet Germany. Tensions have calmed since the country's uproar at the EU Summit, where President Rennicke diplomatically rampaged against the union centralizing around an alliance between England and France. And now reports have claimed that the head of Germany's Department of Projects has taken meetings with American corporations, Hyperion Enterprises in particular.
The Pacific Union, consisting primarily of Japan, China, and Korea, continue innovations in robotics with The Samurai Program. The first generation of cybernetically enhanced officers, called "Akuma," were rendered defunct, each country taking the technology birthed from the union and using it to pioneer their own independent projects. China has led the way in practicality with Project Dao, an inventory of construction droids, robots capable of carrying many time their weight and escalating walls without assistance. However, whereas China pursued a different application of the robotics, Japan has improved upon Akuma with the second generation of cybernetic police officers, Benzaiten, also know as Benzai. Japanese Prime Minister, Takeshi Kusugi, has given his word to the global community that the Benzai's sonic weapons are only capable of disorienting targets, but rumors still persists claiming the technology is more severe than reported. Scientists from America and the EU have expressed concerns about the hazards of focused sonic energy on the human body, stating some in particular may have extreme sensitivities to the kind of physiological disturbances being hit with a sonic wave may cause. In the end though, Dr. Akihiro Chino, head of the Department of Interdisciplinary Sciences, has had the last word, stating that the sonic weapons are less dangerous than the firearms still in use in every other country. Whether or not evidence will be found concerning the Benzaitens' full capabilities remains unclear, but also unlikely. Claiming the vague reasons of security and the necessity of stabilization, the Pacific Union has put up an iron wall, virtually ceasing all travel and media flow to and from the union, much to the dismay of the other unions. The third major force in the PU, Korea, has taken advantage of the wall, never revealing their take on the Akuma project. However, talk has arisen that the country will be leading the next Pacific Summit, where plans will be formalized to begin work on another Great Project as a collective.
The last major player in unionization is the United States. The early years of The Great Deal were filled with tension and power struggles. Due to the conflict between the White House and major corporations, the world power lagged behind the progress of the European and Pacific Unions. American corporations refused to gather around President Hampton. The stagnation in progress inspired voters to put the rival party in the White House, and President Gardner found a solution still in effect until today, for the government to assist the corporations that pursued Great Projects through grants, loans, and tax incentives. Initially, the attempts at compromise were ridiculed, the U.S. government deemed weak, the corporations judged as too corrupt, flying their corporate narcissism under the banner of hope and recovery provided by The Great Deal. Critics cried "corporate communism," fearing a world where CEO's owned and operated the country. But people underestimated President Gardner. The projects proposed by most of the corporations were rejected by the new Department of Great Projects, and huge submission fees and fines for project rejection discouraged companies from submitting. Not until Richard Sutheford, founder and CEO of Hyperion Enterprises, presented his project, ten years into The Great Era, did America find its Great Project. Working with NASA, the Department of Clean Energy, and other federal research centers, Hyperion started work on The Livable Space Program, constructing two self-sustaining habitat domes: one a natural habitat in the New Mexican desert, the other a research facility on the Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of North Carolina. The alliance initiated between Sutheford and President Gardner was one of mutual respect, a tradition now carried on over terms and generations, continued by Sutheford’s grandson Daniel Sutheford, and President Laurey.
The Livable Space Program has reignited research in space exploration and interplanetary colonization. Furthermore, the program has been praised globally by the people for being nonmilitaristic and leading to a myriad of advances in energy, recycling, and waste management. The domes may have been devised to colonize the universe in event of the apocalypse, but their very existence has extinguished doomsday prophesies from prophets fearing climate change. The inspiration of hope and a better, cleaner tomorrow paved the way for The Planet Constitution, regulations that have literally cleaned up the way people live. Some have declared The P.C. restrictive and intrusive, but as long as Hyperion steers the course to prosperity, the constitution and President Laurey are here to stay. For the first time, America truly seems united.
However, despite political cartoons caricaturizing the White House and Sutheford as betrothed (the president as bride, Sutheford as groom) there is suggestion this blessed union is not monogamous. The Livable Space Program may compete with Leviathan and Samurai as a Great Project, but it's center is not a union of governments in turn centered around a few key governments. Instead, it is a corporate helmed project with the nation's resources–subsidies, universities, and national laboratories–at it's full disposal. Sure, the tone is nationalistic, but there is no mistaking that the government is playing assistant. And now, as Hyperion has cemented labor, research, and grant contracts with Mexico and India (as well as meeting with the German government), it seems Hyperion is becoming the focus of its own Union, and not the White House. Opponents have latched onto this criticism for the past two elections, to no avail. Ultimately, with Daniel Sutheford the i
dealistic face of America in The Great Era and other corporations, such as Beckett Protocols, working under the radar on the military technology to maintain superiority over Leviathan and Benzaiten, the United States, through a fusion of government and corporation, has found the recipe for prosperity. But how long before the beast chews off its own arm?
<<>>
Nighttime. Hyperion Academy. The students were asleep. Team Blue, tranquilized, recovered and revitalized in rejuvenation beds, mechanical platforms where the body and subconscious are bathed in healing energies and Bach. All members were there except Connor Bishop, whose body laid twenty-five floors beneath his friends, in the morgue. He would be alone soon, but now Cassandra Farling stood over his corpse, looking into his face. No words. No thoughts. Feelings...but she was numb to them. She zipped the black bag over his mouth...his nose...his eyes...and slid the body back into the darkness of the metal cabinet. She trekked back down the hall, to the elevator, and ascended through the levels of the earth, back to the surface, back to the grounds of the academy. They'd say he died crossing the street, an accident.
Under moonlight, she returned to the academy. First, she visited the laboratory, checking on her charges in their rejuvenation beds, then on her students sleeping in the dorms. All were asleep except for Meghan, whose feelings were tangled as she picked up on the vibrations of peace and terror sloughing from the fields of Derek and the others. Cassandra knew she was awake, knew what her student felt, and let her feel her own fear and guilt. She didn't know why, but someone needed to know. Maybe it wasn't fair that Meghan be the one, but here they were.
Cassandra closed Meghan's bedroom door gently and went into her office. She went to the metal nub, placed the tip of her floral pump on the device, and a line of shimmering light appeared before her.
Her knees buckled–she caught herself. She stumbled back to the gilded chair, her body shaking. She couldn't do this. Not now. She dropped to her knees. Tears. Trembling. She folded her arms on the chair's floral cushioned seat and buried her face in them, gasping, bursts of sobs.