Quantum Lens

by Douglas E. Richards

  Alyssa shook her head in wonder. “Incredible,” she said simply.

  “Yes,” agreed Craft. “Incredible is right. Fortunately, while hacking Elovic’s computer, I was able to learn that the US was poised to strike. They had prepared a raid with multiple special forces groups, who would have significant air support, as well as missile support from both the air and sea. Najjar would cooperate fully and see to it that our forces were not interfered with. He was desperate. As desperate as only our omnipotent friend can make one.”

  “Did they make the attempt?”

  “No. I couldn’t let them. It would have been suicide. Scores of good men would have died for nothing. America wouldn’t get the concessions Najjar had promised us, and our reputation would certainly get a black eye. At the same time, Al Yad’s reputation would grow even further on the world stage.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “A few weeks. My plan was already underway. So I contacted Greg Elovic.”

  “No!” said Alyssa in astonishment. “You didn’t.”

  “I did,” he replied with a grin. “As you might imagine, the major was a bit surprised also. We had an . . . interesting . . . conversation. I told him you were alive and well. That I was aware of the pending strike on Al Yad and that it had no chance of succeeding. I told him I had invented an advanced weapon based on new scientific principles I had discovered. And that Al Yad had stolen one of only two prototypes.”

  “Elovic had already guessed you used some kind of advanced weapon to escape his team at my house,” said Alyssa. “So this played right into what he already thought. And it also would explain some of the mystery behind the rise of Al Yad.”

  “Exactly,” said Craft. “So I offered him a deal. I told him I knew of a way to counteract this new weapon. It was complicated, and would take some doing, but that in less than a month I would take Al Yad down myself. With Al Yad dead, the US would be a hero. Our international reputation would get a boost from pulling off what many observers were beginning to think was impossible. For very good reason. Because it was. I would defuse the biggest threat the world was facing, and President Khalil Najjar would be in our debt.

  “In return, I asked the major to stop looking for me after I had killed Al Yad. And to give you carte blanche. If you wanted to return to your job and life, no questions were ever to be asked. You would get back-pay and treated like a queen. If you chose, instead, to stay off the grid with me, he would not only stop looking for us, but help us stay concealed.”

  “Very nice,” said Alyssa. “If you really could kill Al Yad, he would jump at these terms—times a thousand.”

  “Well, being in the military, he did want information about this new breed of weapon I had developed. But I told him this wasn’t going to happen. That I deeply regretted inventing the damn thing, and planned to destroy both prototypes and all of my plans. This was non-negotiable.”

  Craft paused. “But you’re right, after I made this clear, he did fall all over himself to accept my terms.” The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. “I could have demanded that he buy you an island to rival Eben’s, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have argued.”

  “And yet you didn’t,” muttered Alyssa in mock disapproval. “So now I know,” she added, shaking her head. “Bungee jumping and negotiation: not your strong suits.”

  Craft laughed. “Well, the major did have one proviso. He agreed, as long as I could prove what I had claimed. And he still had to get his superiors on board. So he asked for a demonstration. For him and two of his superiors.”

  “And you gave him one?”

  “Yes. One morning, when you were sound asleep, I left and flew to Nicaragua.”

  “Commercial? Or, you know, self powered? Zero point energy airlines?”

  Craft smile broadly. “Self powered,” he replied. “After I scheduled the meeting, I knew they’d be monitoring all commercial flights into Nicaragua. I figured when they didn’t spot me at any traditional ports of entry, they’d have to assume I was already holed up in that country when I contacted them. A little misdirection to keep them off our scent.”

  Alyssa nodded appreciatively. “Very nice.”

  "I brought a fancy, bloated silver pen with me, making sure to conceal the brand name. It looked very high tech, believe me. And then I did a few tricks. I pointed the pen at a hillside and turned it into lava. That sort of thing.”

  “I guess the pen really is mightier than the sword?” said Alyssa wryly.

  “This one sure was,” said Craft with a grin. “And versatile. I told them the technology had other capabilities as well, but that I had done enough to prove I was telling the truth. And to prove that they had no chance against Al Yad. But as the inventor of the technology, I did.”

  “And this obviously convinced them,” said Alyssa. She gestured at the body on the floor. “Good thing, too. Because you came through for them in a big way.”

  Craft blew out a long breath. “Thank God,” he said.

  “This still doesn’t explain the uniform.”

  “Oh. Right. Well, let me tell you where we go from here. In a few minutes, I’ll call Major Elovic. I’ll send him a picture of Al Yad’s body. And put you on the phone, so he can confirm you’re still alive, and so you can authenticate that our target is truly dead.

  “Then I’m going to call Najjar and tell him it’s done. He’ll send a man named Abdul Salib, who works for him. He’s the only man loyal to Najjar who has ever met Al Yad and lived to tell about it. I’ll explain that this compound is unguarded and everyone inside is unconscious. He’ll come here and confirm that Al Yad is truly dead.”

  Alyssa nodded. This explained why Bren hadn’t vaporized his nemesis. He needed him to be identifiable.

  “I’ll tell Salib the special forces teams responsible for this success are long gone,” continued Craft. “But that I stayed behind to make sure Najjar knew the US had lived up to our end of the agreement.”

  “Wow. He and Najjar—and the worldwide intelligence community for that matter—are going to be scratching their heads forever, wondering how our special forces teams pulled this off. I mean, every resident of Al Yad’s compound unconscious at once. No traces of gas or chemicals. And a dead man who was known to be invulnerable.”

  Craft smiled at the thought of the confusion this would bring. “Elovic thought if I succeeded, wearing this uniform while I placed a video call to Najjar, and met Salib, would lend an air of authenticity. I’ll change out of it before I leave here, of course. The American military isn’t exactly popular here, and I don’t want to incite violence. But we’ll get treated like royalty as we’re escorted out of the country. Believe me, Najjar will be overjoyed.”

  “You know, Bren, if there really is an infinite intelligence who fragmented Himself to experience existence—to be surprised—you’re more than holding up your end of things.”

  Craft laughed. “Yeah, it’s been exciting. And emotional. But I wish some other fragment could have brought these experiences into the fold. It’s been a little too taxing on this one.”

  “Before you call the major and Salib, tell me: was that stuff about you ruling the world just acting? Like the rest of it?”

  “Yes. I’m a little worried that you even had to ask. But I guess I deserve that. This was just part of the narrative that we needed you and Al Yad to believe. You know, the ‘Bren has become a power mad psychopath, bent on world domination’ narrative. Again, an idea that Eben reinforced in his final text.”

  “No. I get that. But for much of that conversation, you forgot to be a jerk. And I had the impression that you believed a lot of what you said.”

  “You caught me. You’re right. These are principles of governance to which I generally subscribe. In my fantasies, I’d love to see how prosperous the world could become if there were someone at the helm who would make things fair, give people what they need to thrive, and stay out of everyone’s hair. But I’m not about to become a dictator. Benevo
lent or otherwise.”

  “So what now?” said Alyssa.

  “My overriding objectives still remain. I want to find a way to impart the ability I now have to everyone—safely. And while I’m working on this, make sure another Al Yad doesn’t emerge. Eben is on board for this. His money will be a good start. We can use some of it to begin programs and to identify and monitor the activities of anyone trying to duplicate my work.

  “We haven’t figured this out exactly, but at some point, we’d like to find a way to fill a significant percentage of worldwide energy needs free of charge. It’s just a matter of establishing a big enough power plant and a way to transmit the energy cheaply. I can power up the entire plant repeatedly without much effort. And if you decide to join us, I’d still like you to consider bringing a handful of others up to my level. Beginning with you and Eben.”

  “I don’t know, Bren . . .”

  Craft held out his hands in surrender. “It would be your call entirely, Alyssa. If it will help bring you back into the fold, so that you can trust the power-mad me really was just an act, you can make every call.”

  Alyssa noted that he seemed quite sincere about this. Interesting.

  “Eventually, I’d like to find select individuals who want to lead expeditions to some of the Earth-like planets we’ve been discovering over the past few years. They can power large starships filled with explorers. And I’d like to recruit others who can help us provide free energy. Finally, I have a kernel of an idea of how we might bring the vast majority of our species to my level, while ensuring they wield this power safely and responsibly.”

  “Seems impossible,” said Alyssa. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Are you familiar with the three laws of robotics?”

  “Asimov’s three laws?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ve heard of them, but I don’t know what they are. I just know that Asimov was the fictional father of modern robotics.”

  “He was. Many people in his day feared that if robots ever became widespread, they might turn on us.”

  “Yeah. Even more people fear that now,” she said in amusement. “Have you been to any movies in the past few decades?”

  “So I guess you’re willing to concede the point,” said Craft dryly. “Anyway, Asimov wanted his robots to serve as tools. So he imagined a robotics industry in which a prohibition against causing harm to a human being was etched into the very fabric of all robot brains. Even the thought of harming a human would paralyze them.” He paused. “So I’ve been thinking, maybe there is a parallel with your work.”

  Alyssa considered. “So you think I could use hypnosis to program people with the human equivalent? The three laws of humanics?”

  “Not exactly. But you’ll need to evoke an enhanced placebo effect, like you did with me. Enhance their belief that they can control the zero point field. Is there any way to make this belief contingent? To combine this with other pathways of thought? So that subjects can only muster the kind of certainty they need to get to my level if their intentions are good. If they try to use the field for destructive purposes, their hypnotic enhancement vanishes. Is this a possibility?”

  Alyssa considered this for almost a minute. “Maybe. We aren’t there yet, but with a concerted effort with this as the goal, maybe. But the exact nature of the programming would be thorny. And remember, Al Yad didn’t need to be hypnotized to achieve this level.”

  “We’ll start with only the most stable people and monitor them.”

  “But the trick would be to define the parameters. We can’t just link the ability to tap the field to a general prohibition against doing harm. Al Yad would have passed this test. He was convinced he was helping humanity. By destroying most of it.”

  “Again, he was seriously demented. But I take your point. I’m not saying it will be easy. Or that there aren’t plenty of debates about the best parameter set. That is, even if it can be done. But it’s worth thinking about. A grand bargain. We offer you omnipotence, but your ability disappears if you ever try to use it for ill, rather than good.”

  Alyssa looked skeptical.

  “It’s a long shot, I know,” said Craft. “But is it more of a long shot than being able to tap into the zero point field in the first place?”

  “Definitely not,” said Alyssa.

  “And besides, someone like you, someone who is far above average in every way, should be able to do this in a snap.”

  Alyssa grinned. “I’m also above average in my resistance to flattery.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time to figure this out. But I wanted to at least start you thinking of the possibilities. Again, If you join us, you will have total say. There is no one whose ethics I trust more. Eben has already agreed to this.”

  Alyssa studied him thoughtfully, but remained silent.

  “Look,” said Bren. “It’s your call. You can have your old life back, and then some. Elovic owes you a lot. But I’m begging you. Join me. Join us. You don’t have to decide now. Take your time. After all, this is the worst time to ask for a decision. When you still have the bad taste of the asshole Brennan Craft in your mouth.”

  He made a face. “I may not have thought that last sentence out,” he said with a grin. “Probably not the most artful phrasing I’ve ever delivered.”

  “Yeah,” said Alyssa, fighting back laughter. “Kind of brings a thought picture to mind I’d rather not have.” She paused. “But I know what you meant.”

  Craft suddenly became serious once again. “Alyssa Aronson,” he said, staring deeply into her large brown eyes. “I love you. I love you more than I can describe. No matter what happens, no matter what you end up deciding, I will never stop loving you. And I will never stop regretting what I did to you. And if you join me, I will never stop trying to make it up to you.”

  Brennan Craft’s lovesick puppy dog gaze was back. But more than this, so was he. His intelligence, warmth, and wit. His compassion. Absolute power hadn’t changed him at all. Everything that had drawn her in like a black hole had returned.

  She had been deceived and put through the wringer. But now that she had made it out the other side, she was beginning to feel euphoric. It had all just been a very bad dream. Yes, Brennan had trapped her in hell. But he had also waved a magic wand and transported her to heaven. The greatest threat the world had ever faced was gone. And the perfect man for her had returned. These rewards compensated her for the emotional trauma she had been forced to endure a hundred times over.

  So she could either spend time bitterly recalling her stay in hell, and resenting Bren for it, or she could embrace the profound relief and joy she now felt at learning that this hell had been nothing more than a mirage.

  The choice was obvious.

  “I’ll tell you what . . . Colonel,” she said. “I’ll give you a month to win me over. To remind me of what we had. And convince me that all traces of the other guy are truly gone.”

  Craft looked like he could float off the ground without the use of zero point energy. “Outstanding!” he said. After a long pause he added, “Would it be too forward to suggest I start this trial period off by reminding you of what it’s like to kiss the old style Brennan Craft? I mean, only for a few minutes. We are a bit overdue making some important phone calls.”

  “Interesting proposition,” said Alyssa with just the hint of a smile. “On the one hand, you did save my life.” She raised her eyebrows. “But on the other hand, you were the one who put it in jeopardy in the first place.”

  She put her hands out in front of her, palms up, and moved them up and down, as though she were a human scale, carefully weighing the decision. Finally, she shrugged, and an incandescent smile spread across her face. “What the hell,” she said, melting into his arms. “The world has waited this long to hear about the demise of Al Yad. What’s a few minutes longer?”

  “Al Yad?” said Craft giddily as he leaned in to kiss her. And his blissful, dreamy expression made it clear that, for j
ust this instant, Alyssa Aronson really was his entire universe. “Who’s he?”

  From the Author:

  Thanks for reading Quantum Lens. I hope that you enjoyed it! If so, I’d be grateful if you’d tell ten or twenty thousand of your closest friends :)

  Next to strong word of mouth, the success of an indie-novel is most dependent on the number of reviews it receives. So it would be immensely helpful, and greatly appreciated, if you would consider going to the book’s Amazon page and writing a few words in a review box so others will know what’s in store for them (here is a link). Thanks!

  Finally, I love hearing from readers, so please consider Friending me on Facebook at Douglas E. Richards Author, or writing to me at doug@san.rr.com.

  QUANTUM LENS: WHAT’S REAL, AND WHAT ISN’T:

  In addition to trying to tell the most compelling stories I possibly can, I strive to introduce concepts and accurate information that I hope will prove fascinating, thought provoking, and even controversial. I have conducted extensive research for all of my novels, but for the first time I’ve decided to touch upon this research further.

  Although Quantum Lens is a work of fiction and contains considerable speculation, most of the main elements are based on our current state of knowledge. Naturally, within the context of a thriller, it is impossible for me to go into the depth each topic deserves, nor present the topic from all possible angles. I encourage interested readers to read further to get a more thorough and nuanced look at each topic, and weigh any conflicting data, opinions, and interpretations. By so doing, you can decide for yourself what is accurate, and arrive at your own view of the subject matter.

  ZERO POINT FIELD AND ZERO POINT ENERGY: These are known to exist and have been proven beyond a reasonable doubt, although there is disagreement on the magnitude of zero point energy, with some scientists believing that we’re missing an important principle in our understanding. The NASA article cited in the novel is real, and provides fascinating reading. Here is a link to the article on the NASA website. I’ve also posted an excerpt from this article below, after the Other Books by Douglas E. Richards section.