by Brandt Legg
“We’re simply painting a picture, telling a story that already exists with brighter colors, fancier words,” General Imperia said. “He met with the Chinese, they cut a deal, war was averted, a war that was days away. It must’ve been some agreement. We don’t know everything that was in that pact. It could’ve been anything. We’re merely speculating, and maybe by then we’ll have additional evidence. But if he’s seen as colluding with the Chinese, nobody could deny that he needed to be removed immediately.”
“We shouldn’t do anything that makes him look as though he did something wrong.”
“That’s the whole idea,” General Imperia said, barely suppressing a smile. “And it’s only a backup. We only use this information after the coup has taken place, if there’s any trouble.”
“But—” Dranick began to protest.
“Can you imagine the chaos and horrific violence and the uprisings that would occur if our actions aren’t seen as entirely necessary?” the admiral asked.
“Hundreds of thousands of casualties in order to regain order,” one of the other members said.
“And if that happens,” Imperia said, “we’ll have to resort to even more drastic measures . . . none of us wants that.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
The first lady had been traveling the country for weeks in an attempt to personally visit contacts and governors of all fifty states. Her assignment was to ready them for Cherry Tree, radical reforms, and the new Fair and Free system without actually telling them what was coming. The impossible task had been made easier with data and intelligence gleaned from the Gypsy program. Granger and the Wizard had sought information on each governor, their staffs, and other key elected officials. Her mission was more to gauge who could be counted on in the days following Cherry Tree.
“I’m optimistic,” she said while checking in with Hudson one night after meeting with the governor of New Mexico.
“That’s great,” Hudson said. “We had written off the entire Southwest.”
“Obviously Texas and Arizona are impossible,” Melissa said in a tone that meant they really were. “The REMies have a firm grip all the way down to county officials in both states, but I think we can count on Oklahoma and probably New Mexico.”
Part of their plan was to arrest any governors, lieutenant governors, state attorneys general, and on down the line, who might impede the implementation of Fair and Free. The charges would be based on evidence being collected by the Gypsy program and 3D system. Dranick had been funneling intelligence to the DIRT unit at the FBI for months. The president had a good idea who might abandon the REMies, and who would not. They’d also discovered a small number who were already independent of the elites.
“Where to next?”
“California.”
“The big prize.”
“Yeah, REMies own the state, and their reach goes deeper into the state legislature there than anywhere else, but I have some strong contacts. And you saw the intel; I think we can get as many as one-third to come our way.”
“You’re amazing. Tired?”
“I’m too exhausted to think about being tired.”
“Want me to fly out and join you?”
“Yes.”
“I wish I could, but I can’t.”
“I know.”
“I’ll see you in my dreams.”
“Every night.”
Granger and the Wizard showed up at the White House unannounced, and were waiting for the president in the Oval Office when he got out of a meeting with Congressional leaders.
“Twenty minutes,” the Wizard said.
The president looked at his secretary.
“I don’t see how . . . ” she said, exasperated, knowing she’d have to make it work. “We’re already thirteen minutes behind. The treasury secretary is waiting with the SBA people, and then the Florida delegation about the hurricane efforts,” she said without referring to the tablet computer in her hand. “Then the Central American strategic session, and that was already going to be tight, and the German chancellor arrives in three hours . . . ”
“State Dinner tonight,” the president said to the Wizard and Granger. “Want to stay?”
His secretary looked startled, certain that this would create a whole new set of logistical problems.
“Drop the Central American thing,” the president said. “As you said, we need more time for that anyway.”
He didn’t wait for a response as he ushered his guests outside onto the South Lawn.
“Didn’t mean to wreck your day,” Granger said.
“Truth be told, I was hoping to pass the Central American meeting onto the vice president anyway.” He smiled.
“Dawg, you do know you’re the president, and don’t have to meet anyone you don’t want to, right?” the Wizard said.
“Shows how much you don’t understand about my job,” the president said. “And you heard her, I’m already thirteen minutes behind, so what’s the urgency?”
“Remember our suspicions about the REMies’ influence on the internet and social media?” Granger asked.
Hudson nodded.
“Dawg, it’s the biggest scandal of the ages,” the Wizard blurted out. “It’s like, carbon dioxide is only a tiny fraction of the Earth’s atmosphere, but if it wasn’t there, the plants would die and the oceans would freeze. We’d all be dead.”
“And this is the REMies fault?” the president asked, confused.
“I think what Wizard is trying to say is that what we’ve uncovered is earth-shattering,” Granger said. “Facebook and Google, as well as several other social media and internet companies, are complicit.”
“With the REMies?”
“With everything,” the Wizard said.
“It appears that from the earliest days of some of the largest social media and tech companies, REMies and members of the Deep State were involved,” Granger explained. “They were designed to mine data, and . . . ” he paused and met the president’s stare, “these platforms were created for control.”
They had long known that the REMies, and their proxies in the US intelligence apparatus, used the internet to track and profile the general population, but what Granger and the Wizard were saying went well beyond that. The companies, the very internet itself, had, from the beginning, been part of the CapStone conspiracy.
“They gave the people the greatest toy of all: freedom, convenience, the whole world in the palm of their hand—the internet,” Granger said. “But what they really gave us was the ultimate prison,” he bent down and picked up a small pinecone, “where they watch everything we do and record our every thought through our searches,” he said, turning the pinecone between his thumb and forefinger, “the sites we visit, how long we stay, what we read, and the social networks, who our friends are, what we like—”
“And the worst part,” the Wizard interrupted, “is we think it’s made our lives better and easier, but it’s just made it easier for them to control us.”
“But that’s not really the worst part,” Granger added. “The evil in their grand digital plan is that it’s a feedback loop.” He crushed the pinecone in his hand and inhaled deeply.
“Meaning?” the president asked.
“They’ve got these massive computers that utilize artificial intelligence to show each of us a customized view of the world,” Granger said as he put the crushed cone in the president’s hand and motioned him to take a breath.
The president held it to his nose and inhaled. The scent of earth and pine dominated, but a slight aroma of vanilla came through. “Nice,” Hudson said.
Granger nodded as if they’d just shared a great secret and then continued. “You know how when you search for the price of a Makita cordless drill, and then for the next week or whatever, all you see are ads for Makita and other power tools?”
“Yeah.”
“They do that with everything,” Granger said. “They show you headlines in a certain order, news stories written espec
ially for you. The artificial intelligence and algorithms are incredible.”
“Are you saying that whenever anyone goes online, they’re actually surfing through one giant MADE event?” the president asked.
“Is reality still real when it’s constructed from only a select portion of the facts?” the Wizard asked. “The truth becomes a lie when enough of it is omitted or rearranged.”
“Every search someone does on the internet is restricted and filtered based on the user’s profile, every news story is biased depending on the reader, even the order in which one sees social media posts is directed by the system,” Granger said. “It’s all instant, it’s accurate, and more complex than you can comprehend. To answer your question, yes, anything you view on a connected device is part of the empire’s order to Manipulate-And-Distract-Everyone.”
Granger mentioned to the president in parting not to forget that scent.
Chapter Fifty-Six
For the next several days, the president and his inner circle continued to work on an enhanced version of Cherry Tree to include an alliance with NorthBridge. However, his closest advisors were divided over the idea to include the terror organization in their fight against the REMies. Even those in favor of pursuing that strategy had their doubts, and everyone wondered if it would even be possible.
Yet the prospect of the social media giants and massive tech companies providing back doors and even direct channels to the FBI, CIA, NSA, and a host of other secret agencies, including countless international players because of the global scope, added a drastic new urgency to the cause. With the knowledge that the Deep State could sway public opinion and control the citizens with such covert methods, Hudson’s battle against the empire suddenly became impossibly more difficult.
“We have to get Booker to go along with Cherry Tree,” the president said on an infinite-encrypted call with the first lady.
“That would be a big secret to keep,” she said. “The president joining the most notorious terror group in the world.”
“There’s no choice.”
“Just think about the leaks,” Melissa said, her voice heavy with concern. “Cherry Tree may have a better chance without NorthBridge than with them.”
“Slim or none,” Hudson said. “Slim with them, none without them, is how I see it.”
“It’s not just the leaks you have to worry about. The Three-D system is going to pick up the first breaths of your revolt against the empire . . . and then we’ll find out how strong
their wrath is.”
The president returned to the old Hunter Mill Mansion, where Vonner Security had now installed underground surveillance stations to supplement the already heavy security. He sat with the Wizard on the front veranda during a hard rain.
“Where’s Granger?” the president asked, used to seeing him whenever he came to what had become the nerve center of their strategic and intelligence gathering operations. They had forty-nine dedicated staff working on Gypsy and other programs to prepare for the move against the empire.
“Traveling.”
“Where?”
“I’m not sure. He said it had something to do with Fair and Free. He might have had to go back to California to meet with the cryptocurrency specialists.”
The president nodded. “It’ll be ready, right? The APT tax system and the conversion to digital currency? Because that’s the key. Without an economy and a way to fund the government, we’ll descend into anarchy in about three days.”
“It’ll be ready,” the Wizard said. “But, Dawg, we have a problem.”
The president looked at his old friend expectantly, bracing himself for what was an hourly occurrence—another crisis to deal with.
“Tarka can’t find Booker,” the Wizard said.
“She can’t find him, or he won’t see her?”
“He’s disappeared. It’s like he’s in hiding,” the Wizard said. “We know he owns a lot of islands, but I’m beginning to think he has a few that are quite literally unknown. Or . . . I mean, we would know if he’s dead. It’s just so strange, not a single digital footprint that we can attribute to Booker exists now.”
“He’s alive. They’re getting ready for something big,” the president mused. “Dranick told me hours ago that they’re picking up signs of NorthBridge activity on an unprecedented scale.”
“NorthBridge, not Booker . . . Either way, you think they’re going to the next level?” the Wizard asked.
“Dranick says the intelligence community has just begun planning for a ‘revolution strike,’ a huge, coordinated campaign simultaneously hitting major cities in all fifty states.”
“That would bring an end to law and order instantly—complete chaos, government response would be overwhelmed . . . ”
“Anarchy.”
“Then we might be too late,” the Wizard said.
“If we can’t get to Booker, then the only other hope is to find Fonda.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Hudson had not been back to Oregon since the Air Force One attack that had briefly claimed his life. He found a poetic irony that his first trip back there was to declare a particularly beautiful section of the coastline a national monument. Due to the severity of the potential threats arrayed against his plans, he might have cancelled, but he had one final hope of finding Booker, and she was waiting in Oregon.
“I’m preserving a small, but sacred, slice of the universe,” he told his daughter, Florence, who had been on the plane that fateful day and helped save his life. She’d returned too, as part of the healing. “People think I’m doing it to erase the horrors of what happened to me,” Hudson continued, “but nothing bad happened to me. For the thirty-one people who died protecting me, and all the others who suffered injuries, it was a terrible and tragic day. For me, it was spectacular beyond all imaginings. I glimpsed eternity, and saw that we are all there.”
After the dedication speech, Hudson met with Linh, the leader of the Inner Movement, who had also attended the ceremony. She’d long campaigned for the designation of the area. For years, her organization had sought protection for numerous remarkable natural places around the globe. Critics of the president claimed that followers of the Inner Movement believed the area held spiritual or mystical significance. The media created a small controversy over the matter before it was quickly eclipsed by the mounting troubles in the American cities, overseas military bases, and sexual misconduct allegations against the president.
Hudson and Linh, flanked by more than twenty security personnel and several Secret Service Counter-Assault Teams, walked the rugged trail along the cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Waves crashed and swirled onto the giant rock monoliths before washing onto the sand far below.
“Thank you for this,” Linh said gesturing her hand to the scenic area in which they were walking.
“Don’t believe everything you read,” the president said with a sly smile. “I know you pushed hard for this monument, but I would’ve done it anyway. And, to be honest, I don’t mind having a monument in the state where I rose from the dead.”
“Thank you just the same.”
“I wanted to talk to you today. I’m troubled.” He smiled again, mostly to himself. “I guess that’s an understatement.”
She laughed.
“Extremely, deeply, in-way-over-my-head-troubled would probably be a better description, and even then . . . ”
“I think you’re doing just fine in spite of all the distractions,” Linh said, gently touching his elbow.
“Thank you,” the president said. “Your friend, Booker, has been causing a lot of these problems. I know you said before that you don’t get involved in that part of his life, but I’ve heard you speak about everything being connected, about us all being one. How do you reconcile that with what Northbridge is doing?”
“We don’t have control,” Linh said thoughtfully. She stopped and stared out at the ocean for a moment, and then looked back at Hudson. “The connection doesn�
�t mean we are all doing the same thing or are all in agreement. It’s quite the contrary. It’s as if we are one giant organism, moving together, and yet we’re held back by our own desires and ego, foolishly believing that our own thoughts are correct, even when they are not. Slowly, we will all realize that with all our differences and unique approaches, each of us is right, and we all have the answers within us, the same answers just differently expressed.”
Hudson felt a little frustrated, as he often did when speaking with Linh. He could sense her sincerity, yet her words always seemed evasive, and rarely did her responses help resolve any of his concerns. “I sometimes wonder,” he began, and then paused to rethink his next statement. “Just the other day, Granger Watson, the futurist and technologist—”
“Yes,” Linh said. “I know who he is.”
“Brilliant mind, and really has a handle on what’s in store with all the computers, technologies, and artificial intelligence taking over our lives. He was telling me that in as little as twenty or thirty years, computers will have completely taken over and control our lives.”
“The REMies and other elites in the big powerful corporations are pushing forward for profits, as they seemingly know no limits to their greed,” Linh said as a pair of butterflies flitted nearby. “The super-rich don’t care about the risks of pursuing ever more profits. As with tobacco, oil, and all kinds of other damaging products, they’ll invariably ignore the long-term risks for short-term gains.”
“Exactly. There’s so much money to be made with artificial intelligence, self-driving cars, smart homes, all kinds of nano and computer applications in healthcare,” Hudson said, while momentarily distracted by watching her watch the butterflies dancing in the sun. “They can send micro-robots inside our bodies to look for and repair trouble. These little machines will go after viruses and clean out our arteries, whatever. They can manufacture replacement body parts. All sorts of amazing breakthroughs. I don’t know, it all sounds like science fiction to me, but it just keeps happening. Every day you read about something else . . . ” He stopped.