The entire room lifted itself onto its feet. The clamoring came from every direction now. Stenberg downed the effervescent liquid in one gulp before stepping back to raise his arm and throw the expensively cut crystal stemware onto the ground smashing it into tiny pieces.
“At midnight,” Stenberg yelled over the crowd. “At midnight, this very night, in the year 2036 anno domino, the Year of our Lord. Wait! I’m sorry to report He was unable to attend tonight’s event!”
___
In the nearby media tower, time was running out. Truby’s team worked feverishly to finalize her investigative report adding the last-minute source so she could go live. After years of collecting smoking guns, Truby could hardly believe the last one had come her way purely by chance, though Pete called it fate. Page 823 in the WREN legal document. Now it all made sense. It was the endgame of all endgames, and it was a doozy.
Cadence loaded the finished file onto the darknet just like she’d learned to do back at the Inn as Dean, or Hemmy now, and Studebaker continued to snipe at one in a contest of will.
“I’m going alone. Cadence and Pete, you two get to babysit.” Truby grabbed the suit jacket with the too-short sleeves off the back of the office chair.
“No way. You’ll have a better chance if I go along. I lost you once.”
Truby looked long and hard at her child, a young man she’d have to get to know all over again. He seemed to have handled the gender reassignment well enough. She had so many questions and hoped she’d get a chance to ask them. Taking his shoulders, “Hemmy, this unbelievable tale will become our new history. I’ll need you to tell it, in case I can’t.”
Feet propped up on a desk, Pete smiled a small smile of disappointment. “Why don’t you take the two soldiers in a staring contest neither will win just in case,” his nod indicating Coby and Wu amidst a cold-war-d'etat for two.
“Take that one, too,” said Rose, her feet propped up next to Pete’s.
Startled, Cadence yelped.
All heads turned to see where Rose pointed.
In a classic black tux, Hector smugly leaned against a wall near the emergency exit door Truby had investigated earlier. Hands in his pockets, the I.T. nerd now looked like James Bond who’d wandered uninvited into his rival’s secret lair.
Hector crossed his feet at his ankles. “Before you go out to try to save the world or some version of that, your friends might be interested in knowing you’re responsible for the fake Vegas Earthquake video seen ‘round the world, Truby.”
“What’s he talking about?” asked Hemmy.
Just then, Zedd coyly popped his head inside the newsroom from the emergency exit stairwell. “All buki?”
“Buki,” said Hector.
Zedd casually entered the room as if they were all still back at Old Faithful. Dancing across the floor to unheard music, he slapped Truby on her backside. “Man, that first time I saw you piss like a racehorse freaked me out!”
“You’re slow,” Rose crossed her arms over her chest. “I knew the first time I saw her.”
“Excellent, Princess!” praised Pete.
Truby was the slow one. She just now realized Zedd was the bleach-blonde kid that had stood behind her in the Whistling Winds Trading Co. the first time she’d met Obaba in person. Cheek and jaw injectable implants couldn’t disguise those pale blue eyes. Truby was still Thomas Ruby in an alternate Universe then. Who Truby was now, was up for debate.
No wonder Zedd was so sensitive to the sun. His barely detectable accent made it difficult to determine his nationality, but his appearance suggested he was from where Hemmy had designed WREN. The investigative reporter in her wondered why he hadn’t masked such a distinctive eye color.
“Will you two get a life!” Cadence yelled angrily.
Truby’s heart pounded so loudly she heard it outside her body. She couldn’t believe it was going to end here.
Is this what the world was reduced to, some Being’s giant video game with trap doors for entertainment?
Nothing was going to stop her after she’d come this far. Even if Pete was right, and this was fate, fate could still take her either way.
This time Truby sought out Pete’s eyes. He was waiting for her. His unblinking brown eyes held a glint of mischief and something else—unspoken words: “Never go by appearances. Feel with your heart.”
“Truby’s one of the best at manipulating video,” Hector goaded.
“We couldn’t have the government involved in holding the world hostage, could we? It had to come from an outsider, a rebel without a cause,” said Zedd.
He was about to go in for a high-five when Hector added, “Oh, and for the record, Zero here is still an idiot. That’s actually Swedish, like him.”
“And that idiot? He created the backdoors per Truby’s specifications to upload the files. Nothing illegal in that.”
Zedd crossed his arms, saving the best for last. “I bet you thought you were working for Young. I owned you! I’m the one that kept you busy the last three years with a string of meaningless projects that independently didn’t make sense. We were saving you for this moment. The ultimate betrayal of every ideal you ever espoused so you could betray the world. We’ll make sure you get full attribution. You’ll be famous. Correction— infamous!”
Hemmy looked incredulously at his... Father? Mother? “Truby?”
“It’s true,” Truby whispered, though she didn’t know she’d been under Zedd’s control. No wonder she hadn’t heard from Young. Ashamed, she fought back tears that burned to be set free.
Truby stared into the mostly invisible night sky as she sailed through the air across a lit up New Las Vegas in a GSC security vehicle hoping it would fall out of the sky. If it didn’t fall out of the sky, the sky was about to fall as everything humanity had ever strived for was about to hit the ground.
Her heart had found a new rock bottom. Crammed in the tiny vehicle with Cadence, Zedd, and Hector, strangers to her now, she had never felt more alone—except once.
CHAPTER 66
“Now, just stay calm. I know, truly, I know what you’re thinking, Dean. I mean Hemmy.” Studebaker was going to make this right somehow. Or at least, not be blamed. He’d played his part and kept his commitment.
Hemmy stared at his Ganesha elephant in his hand. “Remover of obstacles...”
“Your fath—moth— The irony that your biological parent would be party to such a dastardly deed.”
Dean tossed the Ganesha elephant into the air before catching and pocketing it. “It’s the coolest freaking thing I’ve ever heard!”
“What?”
“Pops, I’m confused, too,” yawned Rose. She got up from her chair, settling into her father’s lap.
Pete smiled happily, “Ah, then just listen, Princess.”
“Come on, think, investigative reporter.” Hemmy paced the newsroom as he mentally hurtled through his entire life event by event to this defining moment, what he could remember of it. “You heard Zedd. The Global Security Council is holding the world hostage by claiming the water superstructure is destroyed, issuing a global emergency. This means they can do what they want because every country around the world was basically forced to sign away their water rights.” Dean jumped up onto the green screen platform. “Follow me now.”
“I’m supposed to jump up there with you?”
Searching his memory vault, Hemmy ignored Studebaker. His biological parent’s life might depend on it. He— She was alive! Hemmy could hardly believe it. There were so many questions. But for now, he needed the answer to only one.
Hemmy placed the Ganesha elephant between his palms and blew on it as if dice about to be tossed across an old Vegas craps table.
“Okay, I got this!” yelled Studebaker, bluffing. Though he wished he did still “have it,” he was drawing a blank. Were his skills that rusty?
Hemmy stopped cold. “Midnight! At midnight, the Global Security Council will enact G.S.C. Resolution 25h-2: In the event of a catas
trophe, natural or unnatural, to any Worldwide Renewable Energy Superstructure activating a global state of emergency, the Global Security Council shall have the authority to temporarily create a Unified One World Government to resolve said global threat to humanity.”
“Which will never end,” interjected Pete.
Rose sat up suddenly, “Holy crap, Pops! They agreed to the One World Government when they signed away their water rights.”
Hemmy wound up his arm in victory as if he’d just thrown a no-hitter baseball game. “I can’t believe I remembered. They accidentally included the confidential memo meant for senior staff only into one of our daily packets.”
“Once a genius always a genius,” smiled Pete. God help the idiots.”
“I got this!” shouted Studebaker. “The Chinese are pissed because they thought they locked up the Rare Earth mineral rights necessary to run the water superstructures only—”
“To be outhustled by the U.S. The water project is on our soil, simply ignore the trade agreement. Then undercut China by offering Rare Earth minerals at a discount on the black market, effectively shutting out China,” Hemmy finished. “Yeah, Truby knows that.”
“They had your father over a barrel. She had no choice. Believe it or not, everything she did was for you,” said Pete.
Dean would consider what Pete said later. For now, “We’ve got to find Truby and a source that will corroborate the GSC is enacting the WREN catastrophe resolution!”
Hemmy felt alive and a sense of purpose for the first time in his life since receiving the Nobel Peace Prize. No longer alone in the world, the child smashed to bits that nightmare of a day at the outdoor café in Oslo so long ago stirred, longing to come back to life.
“And just how to do you propose we do that, Einstein?” blurted Studebaker.
“You’re the pro. Weren’t you going to show me how to dig up sources and investigate?”
“We have more work to do, don’t we, Pops.” Rose curled up like a kitten into a little ball. “I’m so glad we have friends.”
Sounds arose from the connecting hallway. Unsure what was happening, no one in the newsroom dared move nor make a sound.
“Should we hide?” whispered Studebaker.
Voices and the rhythmic trudging of heavy feet drew closer and closer. Hemmy was ready to bolt himself, until he saw who it was.
“Check it out, a hologram screen! Hey, Rose!”
It was Sway and most of the campers and off-gridders arrested with Truby.
“Hi, Sway. Thanks for coming right away.” Rose sat up, energized now.
The campers looked exhausted after a full day of free amusement. They were loaded down with animated stuffed animals, blinking hats, musical beaded necklaces, and other DupliCity Family Fun labeled paraphernalia.
“We need to talk,” said Rose
Standing in front of the “magic” screen, “An assist, please?” Rose explained the situation to the nearly three dozen people ranging in age from sixteen to eighty as they sat on the floor.
Hemmy followed along, quickly pulling up images from the computer’s database, casting out 3D renderings. Faces began to light up. They were getting it. He was ready to step in anytime to help with details Rose might have missed, but she missed none. And he thought he was a genius.
The impromptu presentation over, the group huddled together to confer. When Studebaker slipped within their tight circle to listen to what they were saying, they stopped talking, staring until he stepped back.
Hemmy willed himself to stay put, his mind racing.
Finally, Sway, the unofficial spokesperson said, “We accept the challenge, but on one condition.”
Rome is burning! screamed Hemmy’s brain.
“I’ll take them.” Private Coby Holt appeared from behind a secret hidden panel door in the green screen. “I know what they want.”
___
Hemmy, Studebaker, Pete, Rose, Coby and the off-gridders mutely gaped in mixed awe and horror at the sight of a perfectly destroyed New Las Vegas.
“So... that’s what everyone thinks?” asked Studebaker hoarsely. “The whole world. That’s why the city is on lockdown?” He’d never felt so vulnerable in all his life. “Why those sons a—”
Studebaker felt used, and more than a little humiliated he’d not done more to question what was happening right under his own nose.
Coby gently kicked a few small boulders with his light assault boot until one suggested it was less than solid. With one swift blow, it yielded. Coby struck the hologram projector several times with his more dominant foot until there was a snapping sound accompanied by the slightest whine of a failing internal mechanism.
There were a few initial gasps as the lights went out. The hologram disappeared leaving the twinkling of stored solar-energy-powered lights a mile away, and a full moon that lit the desert like an Alaskan summer sun at midnight.
“There are probably more of those,” Coby said.
Hemmy noticed the crowd burgeoning from behind like loaves of bread. Peering into the blackness from whence they came, nearly a hundred rather than the three dozen that had commandeered a shuttle from the city stood before him. Without a plan, Hemmy thought of his Ganesha elephant. The crowd seemed as if they were waiting expectantly.
Rose squeezed Pete’s hand. Looking into indigo eyes, Pete nodded understanding.
But a sapling, Rose pardoned her way through the tall forest of people to reach Hemmy. Men and women alike respectfully made a small clearing so all could see the child.
Poised, Rose lifted her head, “May I?”
Hemmy nodded slowly as his brain continued to scream. Nevertheless, something within his being said Ganesha was about to speak.
Pete slipped behind Rose to place a warm, supportive hand solidly on her shoulder as his grandfather had once done for him.
“Friends, thank you for coming,” Rose confidently spoke. “Your service is requested this evening in an unusual way that will require you to trust the unknown and the creativity that flows freely through you. Know that you have the full support of the Universe.”
Leaning in, Hemmy whispered, “Who is she?”
“She is the future,” Pete winked. “Leadership isn’t about power over others; it’s empowering others to use their gifts in service of one another.”
Hemmy checked the time. It was forty minutes until midnight.
Rome is burning!
CHAPTER 67
Like a circus ringmaster center stage, the Global Security Council’s General Stenberg was about to launch the greatest show on earth. “Tonight, history resets and humanity begins anew. I can say this to you with painstaking certainty for what we are about to embark upon has never been achieved harking before the dawn of civilization.”
The penthouse lights dimmed to an ambient soft amber glow, the small circular platform Stenberg stood upon taking on new life. A hologram waterfall of sparkling diamonds, gold, and silver glittered down from above the man all but obscuring him as the global elite audibly expressed appreciation. Enough to distract the guests, an outer stage extension arose doubling the five-foot diameter of the circular platform.
Hidden behind the waterfall, Stenberg’s voice amplified to twice its volume as if he were the great wizard himself. “Abel’s Cain, Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great, Tamerlane, Julius Caesar, Napoleon, and one sorry excuse for a man, Hitler, could only dream of conquering the world. Pray tell, why did they fail?”
General Frohm nodded his head appreciatively toward the stage, nudging Lt. General Young as if the staged production had been his idea.
Before their very eyes in 3D glory, history was resurrected, marching single file around the glittering waterfall in its center. As human feet appeared to tread in unison, the past’s collective footsteps sounded so material that gasps were heard from the audience. If the mentioned faces weren’t familiar, their costumes certainly gave away each conqueror’s place in history.
Only the last great nomad power
, Tamerlane, a Turco-Mongol of Persia and Central Asia the end of the 14th Century, may have been relatively unknown save those present who had taken great pains to study the successes and failures of these great icons.
There were Cain’s simple robe and wooden staff, Kahn’s hoop earrings and mustache. Tamerlane’s military uniform was far more ornate that his predecessor’s. Alexander the Great’s diadem and royal Persian dress distinguished him from Caesar’s fringed-sleeve tunic and sandals. Napoleon and Hitler needed no introduction.
“Answer me!” demanded Stenberg from behind the curtain. “Why. Did. They. Fail?”
At first, no one responded out of fear an incorrect answer might relieve one of a limb or even a head in his fervor. But, then a single, drunken woman shouted, “Assassins!”
“Because each greedy bastard wanted it all for himself!” Stenberg roared. “Greedy bastard after greedy bastard, mere mortals hallucinating they were more.”
A white laser beam struck Caesar who fell to his knees in agony, writhing until he faded from the stage. The other dictators cowered making perceptible grunts of fear and desperation knowing death was imminent.
The spectators reacted as expected. Even Young was shaken to the core.
The next to go down was Khan, then Cain, the only man who went without a struggle. Cain understood he reaped what he had sowed. Tamerlane, Napoleon, Alexander the Great—vanquished.
Finally, Hitler was left whimpering, his hands in the air as he begged for his life, “Surrender, please,” in heavily German-accented English.
There could be no other way than the long, descending whistle of a falling atomic bomb nearing its target before brilliantly exploding where Hitler trembled. Instantly incinerated, his ashes scattered with the nuclear wind.
It was immensely satisfying. The history books had gotten it wrong. Declassified FBI reports show that Hitler most likely had escaped in a German U-boat to live out his final days relatively comfortable in Argentina.
The elitists stood on their feet going berserk, not because he had been a despotic Nazi, for some of them were Nazi sympathizers in their own right, but because Hitler was a greedy bastard, long dead and buried, and they were not.
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