Empire

by Brandt Legg

  “Back to the subject at hand,” the president said, tilting his head at the Wizard.

  “Dawg, it’s all one.” The Wizard winked, putting his fingers at the outside edges of his eyes and stretching the skin so he looked even more Korean. Then he bowed his head and went off in a made-up dialect like an old, wise, Zen master before getting serious again. “Okay, this is what we need to be looking at. It goes along with your Automated Payment Transaction Tax proposal, and gives us the best chance at surviving a collapse of our current monetary system.”

  “Is Granger on board with what you’re about to tell us?” the president asked.

  “One hundred percent,” the Wizard replied, reaching for a cluster of grapes. “So the dollar, and just about every other currency in the world, is what’s known as ‘fiat currency,’ legal tender that’s backed only by the authorizing government’s promise that it’s good. As you know, money used to be backed by gold, silver, or something else of value, but those are inconvenient for governments who need money to fund wars and other follies.”

  “The last hundred years, starting with World War I,” the president added, “this planet has experienced almost constant conflict and war, and massive spending on weapons. It’s no accident that all this coincides with the existence of central banks, including the Federal Reserve. Countries used to fund wars from their accumulated treasury of gold, but once the REMies figured how to create a system where they could add money into the economy at will, war became easy to fund. They built their empire that way.”

  “My point exactly,” the Wizard said. “They create money out of thin air and stick us with the debt. That’s why NorthBridge went after the Fed in Jackson Hole; they want to bring about the end sooner. The Federal Reserve system will end because cryptocurrency is coming. The Fed has no place in the future. Paper money, are you kidding? Digital transactions are everything, but they’re still based on dollars that the REMies control.”

  “They can’t control cryptocurrencies?” Melissa ventured.

  “Right,” the Wizard agreed. “No one can. It’s decentralized, meaning it’s impossible to hack because it’s contained on so many servers, it’s transparent, and the amount is fixed.”

  “Yeah, but what is it backed by?” Fitz asked.

  “Did you see that!?” Melissa shot up. “A pod of a dolphins, jumping.” They all looked, talked about it for a moment, and then continued.

  “Agreement,” the Wizard said. “Which is more than the Federal Reserve notes we use are backed by. With Bitcoin, there will never be more than twenty-one million created.”

  “Wouldn’t we need more at some point?” Fitz asked.

  “No problem, it’s infinitely divisible. And digiGOLD has a similar structure. The transparency lets the market decide the worth, unlike our dollars, which come with interest owed to the Fed every time they create one and put it into circulation. No automatic interest with cryptocurrencies, and, best of all, no middle men. No need for banks in that case.”

  “Then we strengthen the top three cryptocurrencies in advance of launching Cherry Tree,” the president said, “so that if the REMie central bank system collapses—”

  “Not ‘if’. Rather when it collapses,” the Wizard corrected.

  “Noted,” the president said. “When it collapses, the world will already have an alternative in place. End of empire.”

  “Right. An alternative that will eventually come anyway,” the Wizard said matter-of-factly.

  “And all those transactions will be digital,” Vice President Brown said. “Making it simple for the APT Tax to be shaved off each transaction.”

  Schueller rose and began pacing. “It sounds good, but can’t someone—the REMies, NSA, Nigerian hackers, anyone—access it and see every dealing a person has? Couldn’t someone with the right sequence of key strokes wipe out your entire savings?”

  “Not really,” the Wizard replied. “There are safeguards, and specifically the blockchain—”

  An aide jogged across the beach and whispered into the president’s ear. Hudson’s face fell, and he stood up. “We have to go. NorthBridge has attacked again.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  As they headed to the motorcade, the president relayed what he’d learned. “There’s been some type of EMP attacks on The New York Times and the NBC buildings in New York. NorthBridge also hit The Washington Post building, the Fox News bureau in DC, CNN in Atlanta, and the Los Angeles Times.”

  “NorthBridge claimed responsibility?” Fitz asked.

  “Oh, yes,” the president answered emphatically.

  Fitz, staring into his phone, took over the conversation. “AKA Hancock, also known as Thorne, said on the NorthBridge website that they could have taken out all broadcast networks, including the internet, but preferred to have some reporting to continue.”

  The president, first lady, Schueller, and Fitz piled into The Beast. The others followed in various vehicles.

  “Yeah,” the president said. “What Thorne really means is Fonda didn’t want the Raton Report not to get out, and Thorne wanted to protect his show.”

  “True,” Schueller said, “but they’re also taking out the mainstream media, or what we all know as the REMies’ propaganda division.”

  “That doesn’t give NorthBridge the right to attack and kill people,” Melissa said.

  “No fatalities,” Fitz corrected, his face still buried in the screen. “That’s the thing with EMP, or an electromagnetic pulse. It fries the electronics, everything that needs power is toast.”

  “The Wizard told me just before we left that no one has ever successfully used EMP weapons in this way before,” Schueller said. “It’s scary that they can target certain buildings.”

  “ABC News is reporting neighboring buildings were also impacted,” Fitz said. “Experts believe it will take months before those companies are able to recover, if ever. They lost all their digital data, and NorthBridge took out virtually all their broadcast facilities—dozens and dozens of locations hit simultaneously.”

  The president took a call from Dranick. “The intelligence community and military were stunned by the sophistication of the attack, and are in full panic mode,” the colonel reported to Hudson. “We aren’t confident we could withstand a similar attack on military and intelligence targets.”

  “Incredible,” the president said.

  “Mr. President,” Secret Service Agent “007” Bond interrupted, “they don’t want you flying back on Air Force One. An EMP could take you right out of the air.”

  “What plane do they want me on?”

  “No flying.”

  Hudson shot him an incredulous look. “The hell with that! If Booker Lipton wants me dead, he could have done it before now.”

  “It’s unlikely they have the technology to do it anyway,” Dranick said through the phone.

  “How unlikely?” the president asked. “We didn’t even think they could do what they just did.”

  “This is a whole other level,” Dranick said. “We would have difficulty—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” the president argued. “We’re going back on Air Force One!”

  During the flight back to Washington aboard Air Force One, and in between updates concerning the latest NorthBridge attacks and the media’s attempts to recover and report, Hudson pushed his plans to radically reform the United States government and financial system. The Wizard, and other advisors, had rejoined the group prior to takeoff. They continued discussions about cryptocurrencies replacing central banks, and APT replacing income, sales, and all other forms of taxation. The Wizard and Fitz would work together to appoint a secret commission that would refine the post-Cherry Tree plans for implementing the two new systems.

  “We’ll be ready to launch Cherry Tree very soon,” the president began. “For the first time, the masses will see just what the REMies and other elites have done; how peace and prosperity have been stolen from a trusting population; how MADE events and SAD tactic
s have been used to control them.” SAD offended him even more than the MADE events. Scare Agitate Divide pitted people against one another, and stole the chance for society to evolve to a higher place.

  “I can’t wait for that day,” Schueller said.

  “I can,” the Wizard said. “No matter how prepared we think we are, the REMies are bigger, smarter, faster . . . richer.”

  “But they’re wrong,” the president insisted. “They are wrong.”

  “Of course,” Schueller agreed. “But after the Kennedy papers . . . I mean, Dad, he may have been planning to do the same thing we are, his own version of Cherry Tree. Obviously, the internet didn’t exist back then, but he still managed to accumulate proof of the REMies’ MADE events, frauds, and schemes. My question is what was he going to do with it?”

  “My question is who betrayed him?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Hudson took a risk and arranged a call with Fonda Raton. Their communications had been limited since Crane made the discovery of her identity as AKA Jefferson. Because she was a criminal and a fugitive, each time he had contacted her through a “back channel,” even though her reason for being underground had not yet been disclosed. Melissa and Fitz had repeatedly pressed him to declare Booker, Fonda, and Thorne as the leaders of NorthBridge, but he and the Wizard still believed it would be counterproductive at this stage.

  “We have FBI DIRT units and other intelligence sources looking for them,” the president had told Melissa after the EMP attacks on the media.

  “We still need to find out who the other AKAs are, especially Adams and Franklin, because NorthBridge is doing your dirty work,” Fitz had said.

  “I beg your pardon?” the president had snapped, clearly bothered by his chief of staff’s implication.

  “You’re happy to allow NorthBridge to go after REMie targets. They’re doing what you can’t or won’t do. It’s convenient, isn’t it?”

  Hudson reflected on the conversation as he sat in his private study, waiting for the call from Fonda. He had denied the charge from Fitz, but even Melissa seemed to believe there was more than a little truth in it. Hudson had to admit to himself that NorthBridge was helping his war against the REMies. In fact, so far NorthBridge was the war. The president had fired their man Covington and averted a REMie-planned war with China, but not much else. In addition to regular blows against the elite’s establishment, NorthBridge was giving the REMies a taste of their own medicine. The terror attacks had to be a major distraction to the forty-eight billionaires who ran the world. For the first time, they had to face an unknown enemy.

  And what will happen after Cherry Tree, when seven billion rise up against their evil?

  Fonda came on the line. “I thought I might be hearing from you,” she mused.

  “You have to stop.”

  “I thought you understood the rules,” she said. “Stop what?”

  “NorthBridge, NBC, Fox, CNN . . . “

  “Hmm, do you believe those are fair and objective sources of news? Or are they the mouthpiece of the elites? C’mon, Hudson, the REMies own them.”

  “I’m not arguing that, but your methods.”

  “No one died.”

  “Not this time.”

  “NorthBridge appears to be very careful about that. Then again, there’s collateral damage in any war,” she said impatiently. “And you need to realize that NorthBridge is just getting started. What’s more frightening is that the REMies have hardly begun to fight back. The real war is about to explode, and then counting the bodies will be the least of your worries.”

  “Fonda, you know what I’m trying to do here.”

  “Same as us.”

  “Maybe, but your way is not—”

  “Do you know how many people have tried to tell the truth, who knew all or part of the REMie lie, and did all they could to show it to the world?”

  Hudson thought of Zackers and Crane, but she didn’t let him answer.

  “Thousands!” Fonda blasted. “And they paid with their lives. So just imagine what a great day it was when a person, an honest, thoughtful, intelligent man, landed in the White House, a president who’s a real hero for a change. And when you discovered the game, you decided not to play it. Can you conceive what that means? All the men who occupied the Oval Office before you for a hundred years were in on it! And you were, too, in the beginning, playing Vonner’s perfect every-man candidate. But you became an illusion within the illusion, and instead you decided to break the game.”

  “I’m trying,” Hudson said.

  “Hooray! But it’s too big, you can’t do it alone,” Fonda said. “Remember when I told you not to become the distraction? That’s because each passing year, as the REMies’ schemes and corruption grew larger and larger, it became more difficult to conceal their greed and treachery, meaning more people saw it, or might. So they gave us bigger and bigger MADE events. Everything became a distraction. People thought Trump was so bad? He was nothing, just another front man, yet another giant, appalling distraction, and the people fell for it. Every. Single. Day! And it wasn’t just Trump! All the politicians before and since have played their part as either unwitting accomplices to the game, or bought-and-paid-for actors in it.”

  Hudson realized she would not listen. He’d wasted his time. “You’re telling me what I already know,” he said, raising his voice. “I will not help you.”

  “Then act like you know it. I’m sorry you died, but don’t let those nine minutes blind you and cost us everything. Leave NorthBridge alone. You can’t stop them. Worry about REMies instead. You wanted to be president, use the few strings you have. Give us authentic realism. Don’t help us. Don’t try to stop us. Just show us!”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Perhaps Schueller’s favorite multibillion-dollar undertaking was Zero-cost Alternative Power, or “ZAP.” It was another dual-purpose enterprise created to provide energy in the event that the infrastructure and power grid were devastated during the chaotic transition from the existing REMie empire-system, to the new fair and free system. At the same time, ZAP would help the environment, and allow consumers to access free power.

  Schueller had shifted billions into ZAP. Tens of thousands of employees were put to work installing solar and wind power installations. The president also spoke on the importance of solar energy for the environment, and asked Congress to pass new legislation that would include bigger tax breaks than ever before for the implementation of alternative energy systems. Meanwhile, ZAP would pay the price of installing new roofs made of solar panels by companies like Tesla, above and beyond what a normal roof would cost.

  ZAP worked with well-known tech entrepreneurs/visionaries, such as Elon Musk and Granger Watson, to develop technologies that would incorporate solar panels into vehicle roofs and hoods, as well as small energy-producing wind turbines into the front grills. Schools and parks were given grants from Schueller to add solar and wind into their facilities and campuses. Already, more than seventy-thousand schools had added both ZAP power generation and FFF gardens. Schueller had publicly stated that ZAP hoped to be on every roof by the end of the next decade.

  “The more roofs,” the president said privately to his son, “the less chance of a bloody revolution when the REMies eventually fall.”

  Hudson, frustrated by his failed attempts to convince Fonda to see things his way, had been trying to call Booker in the days since the journalist had lectured him. Unable to reach the pivotal billionaire, he contacted Linh, the leader of the Booker-backed Inner Movement, hoping for some help.

  “I’m glad to hear from you,” Linh said over the SonicBlock-protected video chat. “I’ve been worried.”

  “That worries me,” Hudson said. “The last few times you were worried about me, someone ended up trying to kill me.”

  “It doesn’t take any special abilities to know that you’re a man in great danger,” Linh said. “However, some threats are more serious than others. I’m sorry to say that tho
se you trust the most might present you with the greatest difficulty.”

  Hudson was not in the mood for more prophecy, veiled threats, or vague mystical terms. “I appreciate your concern, Linh, I really do. However, what I need most from you is help reaching Booker. Can you assist with that?” Hudson thought she looked aged. Her silky black hair had a few threads of grey now. He wondered how she managed the stress of it all—or maybe she didn’t.

  She looked at him with a mixed expression, one of sadness. “I don’t know where he is.”

  Hudson wasn’t sure he believed her, but at the same time, a nagging question surfaced. “It seems curious to me that you would associate with such a man.”

  “There are things you don’t know about him, or me,” she said. “Many things you don’t know.”

  “I know that Booker is one of the leaders of NorthBridge,” the president said sternly, lowering his chin and softening his gaze. “A terrorist organization that uses violence to achieve its objectives and has killed many people with no regard for the rule of law—or, in your world, no regard to the law of karma.”

  “Did you want to discuss karma with me?” she challenged, watching him.

  “N-no,” Hudson stuttered, then half smiled, interlaced his fingers, and leaned his handsome face on them. He let out a sigh. “I do not. I’m simply interested if you’re going to defend him.”

  “He can defend himself. But I will tell you this, I don’t agree with the methods of NorthBridge. I’ve made that clear to Booker on many occasions.”

  “Yet you take his money?”

  “My opposition to NorthBridge and his support of the Inner Movement are not mutually exclusive,” she said.

  Hudson found her impossible to argue with. Not because she didn’t listen, but because he would not. This fact troubled him. Prior to his near death experience, he didn’t believe any of the “new age nonsense” that she did, but after those nine minutes, he understood what the Inner Movement was about, and as instantaneous as his transformation had been after his “death,” he was having extreme difficulties in applying it to his daily life. There was a part of him that was still refusing to believe what he knew, rejecting anyone or anything which would continue to shake that foundation.