Emergence

by David Haskell

  Was this a robbery? The man’s clothes were purposefully drab and unassuming, as if he’d planned this all out down to the button. Yet it didn’t really feel like a robbery. The man wasn’t familiar, so it couldn’t be the cops. Alixs knew all the undercover types. All the freevos did. Some other group? They wouldn’t bother with theatrics, he thought. They’d just get in touch and demand a meeting.

  Inside the entryway was another door — but rather than push through it, the abductor ordered him to stay where he was. He heard rustling sounds as the man poked around, then Alixs felt heavy burlap fall over his head and onto his shoulders, plunging him into dark. The feel of it felt disconcertingly familiar.

  A gun-sized push in the back prompted Alixs to walk forward and feel for the inner door. Then they were inside, Alixs keeping just in front of the deadly poking sensation that kept him on well on edge.

  “Turn left, and watch yer step.” The sharp order was followed by another poke.

  Alixs did as he was told, feeling around to his left until he found a step, then another, and in like fashion he worked his way down a staircase and into the basement. He noticed sounds of occupancy coming from high above, a creak of distant floorboards, followed by the pitter patter of small feet. Kids.

  “Sit.”

  Alixs felt around behind himself until he located the chair. He sat down hard, not realizing how much the adrenaline had been keeping him upright and alert until it flooded out of him at once, giving way to a rubbery disorientation. Fear turned into exhaustion, an odd sensation under the circumstances. Probably something to do with the release of endorphins following such an intense panic. How strange it was to feel a sense of relief, even as his mind reminded him of how dangerous his situation still was. He heard a throat clear, and wondered why the gunman had moved away from him. That was the last thing he remembered thinking before panic coursed through him all over again.

  J.Z. BARNES HAS BEEN standing on the corner for forty-five minutes. The Florida sun was working him hard, he was thirsty, and he wanted to find some air conditioning. But he hadn’t finished his work yet. Standing casual, arms behind his back, he was clutching a tiny remote control device, which he’d trained himself to control both backwards and out of eyeshot. He’d come up with the idea after spotting a covert amusement park worker controlling one of their animatronic street characters. He moved the robot this way and that, making it dance and wave, all while standing just out of sight at the edge of the crowd. But J.Z. wasn’t there to amuse anyone, and his activities were a good deal more surreptitious.

  High above, flush with the rooflines and within easy camera range of the protesters, J.Z.’s drone hovered and captured footage of the crowd. Unlikely to attract attention, J.Z. made sure he was flying just high enough to avoid building windows, but not so high that it stood out against the blue skies. The gentle buzz of one tiny engine was only just audible when it landed, quiet enough not to be heard above an average amount of street noise.

  “Hey bud,” J.Z. said to his drone, “get some good shots up there did ya?”

  The drone gave a zippy note of acknowledgment.

  The work was down to a science these days. J.Z. captured every face he could, flying a carefully coordinated grid pattern, and making sure each zone was shot from multiple angles. He couldn’t catch them all, of course. Some wore broad-brimmed hats, or stared down at the ground, or simply looked away at an unfortunate moment. But he got a lot of them, and over the course of several days he’d begun to piece together a decent collection to begin face-matching.

  He wasn’t looking for just anyone. His focus was on xeno spies and activists, or at least the ones he suspected. His site, xenotracker.com, was one of the hottest new voyeur sites, and he had a network of admins doing similar work in cities around the globe. But these protests, they’d been the real boon for him and his venture. So many xenos on both sides of the war, trying to stay hidden, ripe for the picking.

  The heat finally getting to him, he finished off the last section of the grid, and directed his eye-in-the-sky back to a vacant lot. He hurried along, almost bumping into passers-by as he monitored the decent, making sure no unexpected obstacles got in the way. Arriving in the lot just as his machine was setting down, he gave it a quick once over for accidental damage and started packing up. He did a cursory check of the photo set, to make sure the focus was decent and the count looked right, and that’s when he saw it.

  Beyond the crowd and down an ally, two men stood almost out of sight, face to face. His instinctive reaction was that of a witness to a crime, particularly the way in which they were posed. The perpetrator either had a weapon, or else was threatening to pull one out. The other one — he guessed it was the victim — looked taller and stronger, but he was frozen in a hands-up don’t-shoot position. That was the reason J.Z. had noticed anything in the first place. It was obvious the two weren’t on equal terms.

  The photo series continued, almost a motion picture thanks to shutter-burst, with the victim turning and walking into one of the tenement apartments, the other following close behind. With a start, J.Z. realized that the building they’d entered was one he’d just passed by. Stuffing his gear into the bag and placing it carefully behind a large rock, he told his drone to sit tight. Then he walked back to the scene of the crime.

  When he got close enough, he slid up against the side of the building, holding tight for a minute to make sure nobody else came out. Then, keeping back from the windows, he looked around for a few minutes, but saw no sign of activity. He spied a couple of basement windows, so he got down on his hands and knees and peered inside. He immediately saw the weapon, and fought the urge to run. The gunman wasn’t looking at the windows. He was focused on his victim, who was sitting down, and had a heavy hood over his face. Scanning the basement, J.Z. noticed nothing else out of the ordinary. Looking back at the two figures, he noticed the victim was not bound or handcuffed. This could be important. He leaned in to get a look at the rest of the room, but shrank back when he caught sight of a pale, bald head just below the window. Scrambling back away from view, his foot slid out from under him and he kicked the basement window hard, causing a crack but no crash.

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Get up there!’

  J.Z. ran for it, sprinting around the side of the building and pulling himself over a low fence between the buildings. About ten seconds behind, he heard someone make the same climb, and J.Z. bore down to make for the main street before whoever it was could catch up with him.

  THE CRACK CAME LIKE a miniature gunshot, shrinking Alixs down into his seat. At the same time, he heard shouting and movement. In his disoriented state, he instinctively moved from one side to the other, imagining that he was being shot at, but not know what was taking so long. In his frenzy, he shimmied the hood down further over his limbs, constricting his movement and causing panic to set further in.

  “Don’t shoot!” he screamed.

  He heard a door slam, up on the ground level.

  “Hello?”

  Nobody answered. He heard more kid-steps above. He strained to hear more, and was rewarded with a slight shuffling sound. He hesitated, then reached up and grabbed the hood. He pulled it off slowly. A dirty basement room came into view. The gunman was gone, but he wasn’t alone.

  The other man looked just as surprised as Alixs, and hesitated a split second before making a move. Alixs realized this one wasn’t armed, and seized the opportunity to bolt for the stairs. He’d almost made it to the first one when he was grabbed from behind, pulled back so hard he felt a crisp snap from his shoulder joint, followed by a sharp pain that radiated from the rotator on down the limb.

  Without looking back, Alixs knew from sheer force of the impact that he’d been hit by a xeno. He wasn’t particularly surprised by this, although he probably should have been. It was unusual for a disguised xeno to be wandering around. At least not outside of freevo circles. And Alixs was, or at least thought he was, aware of most of the
fugitive freevos in town. Besides, it wasn’t like one of his own people would be attacking him.

  Kicking back at his attacker, Alixs managed to free himself, but when he turned back the raging pain intensified, enough to disorient him. He cast about in search of the stairs, but he’d been spun around in the struggle, and moved further into the room instead. He felt the squeeze of a grip from behind, further aggravating the already pained limb and causing him to thrash. With his other limb free, he managed to swing round and get in a punch, but he was no match for the bigger xeno. He reached out with his last available weapon, and sent his mind into the head of the other with surprising force. He’d never tried such a thing, never even heard of it, but it seemed to do the trick — the attacker let go and stumbled backwards, leaving Alixs free to run for the stairs. This time he made it to the top and out the door, nearly colliding with a ruddy-faced, square-framed bull of a man, who reached out to stop him from falling completely forward onto the pavement. Wincing from fresh pain in his arm, he managed to nod a silent thanks to the stranger. He must have looked scared still, as the stranger gave him a smile and a ‘thumbs up’ which was equal parts reassuring and surreal. It was enough to instill trust, at any rate, and Alixs needed someone to trust right now.

  HAVING GOTTEN AS FAR as the main thoroughfare, all that protest traffic gave J.Z. a little breathing room. He got about three blocks before something intangible slowed him down — a chilling image of the victim, helpless and alone, shot point blank in the face. Normally he’d have no compunction about leaving well enough alone. But for some reason the situation seemed dire enough for him to think he had to do something, anything, to prevent things from getting worse. So he’d doubled back, guessing he had a minute at best before he was caught. Back where he started, he located the now-familiar doorway just as the victim was emerging, nearly crashing into him in his haste to get away. As the two of them sized each other up, J.Z.’s reassuring smile and thumbs up must have looked just dorky enough to prove he wasn’t one of the bad guys.

  “Come on!” He led the victim away from the building, intending to get help once they got someplace more public. But his new friend had other ideas, grabbing J.Z. and leading him in the opposite direction, away from the busy street.

  “Don’t you want to call for help?” J.Z. protested. The other one shook his head, and even though J.Z.’s first instinct was to shrug the guy off and leave him to his fate, he followed. Maybe it was blind curiosity, or just an unwillingness to let the matter drop, but he felt like the guy still needed help.

  43.

  “...since the realization that our quantum hopes lay out there, among the stars, the reaction has been mixed, and with good reason. We all know that the very economy of our world depends on it, and yet we fear the unknown. Even fear...rogue elements who may use it for nefarious purposes. I understand your concerns. I share them. I, too, want to see that prosperous future come true for our children, and our children’s children. And I, too, fear the dark forces that would seek to destroy it. And that’s why, today, I am offering something groundbreaking. Something revolutionary. Something that will guarantee your health and prosperity, and that of your family, friends and business partners, for the remainder of the century, and beyond.”

  The room buzzed noticeably. Rois had their attention. The gathered dignitaries craned forward and listened closely, anxious to hear this next bit of information that might spell continued success for all. They had no idea what they were in for.

  FIRST ADMINISTRATOR Rois ticked off a long checklist of promises, all but assuring that xenos had nothing but a backseat view of the future. He promised the world, and left nothing for himself or his people. He assured them that humans would be the sole beneficiaries, and that xenos would do all the work to get them there. By the time he was finished, they were ready to elect him President of the United States — which under the circumstances wouldn’t have been all that hard to pull off, if his promises were genuine.

  “Corporate contracts for the use of quantum computing will come first, and we of Tera-Prime will ensure that such activities will be exclusively for humans.

  “Xeno-Sapiens will be forbidden to access quantum data and access ports, terminals, computer centers, and any other such technological portals, which will be at the disposal of the human race. These portals will be maintained and repaired by xeno-made — but non-biological and non-sentient — robotic technicians, to be provided by the government of Tera-Prime and paid for by xeno taxes.

  “Non-xeno world governments will have first priority on all programs, applications, simulations, models, and other quantum-generated results returning from space, including the right to refuse access to sensitive and valuable information no non-signatories and, of course, Tera-Prime and any future xeno-sapien governments that should arise. This is my guarantee, and I can promise you this because I have the means to ensure it, just as I’ve laid out before you today.

  “I tell you this, without hesitation or reservation — the future is yours, my friends. And it is yours, today. Thank you.”

  The applause was generous, though here and there incredulous expressions could be found. The first administrator had, after all, just promised them the moon, the sun, the stars, and everything in between. If he was to be believed, this was a risk-free, investment-free, personal guarantee from the leader of the xenos, binding for as long as they lived. These people weren’t the sort to buy into some too good to be true fantasy, though the promise was too captivating to be ignored.

  CHAIRMAN WALKER LOOKED redder every minute, his ruddy complexion pock-marked to start with, but all the blemishes seemed to be popping out with particular aggression tonight.

  “You’d better have a damned good excuse,” the chairman bellowed.

  “Sorry, Mr. Chairman?”

  “Where’d you get off, making promises you have no earthly way of keeping?”

  The first administrator immediately relaxed. Walker thought this was a ploy. A lot of them probably thought so. That was fine, he could explain it to them much better one at a time anyway.

  “I assure you, Mr. Chairman, everything I said this evening is the honest truth.” He held back from adding something like ‘so help me God’, tempting though it was with Walker’s Southern Baptist upbringing. They tended to resent it when xenos made references to religion.

  “You’re telling me,” he said, his delivery low and dangerous, “that you can ensure the xeno-sapiens, all of ‘em, will refrain from benefiting in the quantum revolution?”

  “Yes sir, I can.”

  “You’re either lyin’, or crazy.” He scoffed, walking to the side of the green room to pour himself another drink. “Probably both.”

  “Would you like for me to explain how I can do it?”

  “I think you’d damn well better. I’ve got to go back out there shortly, and they’re gonna want to know where I stand. This better be good.”

  “It is. Have a seat.”

  THE RECEPTION LASTED long into the night, although the first administrator was nowhere to be found. Apparently, he’d been whisked away. Some joked it was by men with butterfly nets. But other than the keynote speaker and his entourage, the rest were too wound up from possibility to leave, not without first speaking with those in the room they trusted most.

  Chairman Walker was understandably overwhelmed by the crush of inquiries, discreet and otherwise, but his terse reassurances were exactly what they needed to hear.

  Did you hear? Walker is onboard.

  It was endorsed by the chairman himself.

  He must know something.

  The chairman was feeling more than a little overwhelmed himself, and not just because of all the questions. He knew more now than probably any other human being on the planet, and it was all a bit much to process. The implications were so serious, he didn’t know how to react. He felt both horrified and overjoyed at the same time. All he knew was, in the grand scheme of things at least, it was probably good news. Or mor
e properly, good news for the human race. He wouldn’t want to be a xeno right now.

  The xeno threat, which up until today had seemed more than able to derail centuries of hard work by the global elite, had been suddenly and drastically minimized. He was dizzy from the weight of it all, but it was a light sort of dizziness, his usual heavy drinking only part of it this time.

  44.

  The freevo logo shone bright out of the banks of studio monitors. Flashing ‘coming soon’ messages scrolled beneath, and a countdown ticker pulsated, lending a sense of immediacy and great purpose to their first live broadcast. In the center, in oversized, futuristic lettering:

  Free Evolution Report

  Broadcast Will Commence Momentarily

  3:17

  The freevos in the room were lit with anticipation, their animated chatter adding liveliness to the event. Recording an update was nothing new, but this was their first attempt at doing so live. The new safeguards they put in place, to ensure the cops had no way of triangulating their position, had been in the works for months. Liam was adamant that they not keep sending out taped messages, as though they were a bunch of criminals lashing out from their hidey-holes. He wanted real-time, official announcements, professional in every way, and he wanted to do them so the world could watch.

  The event had become an online sensation. Professional hackers and amateur allies alike prepared mirror sites, all over the world, in case any original sources should get blocked. The freevos themselves had been working with allies to spread the word. Liam’s speeches were always well received, but this time would be bigger than ever.