Empire

by Brandt Legg

  Linh was staring at a magnificent lichen and moss-covered tree; an enormous, healthy sentinel on the Coast. For a minute, he thought she might hug the tree. But she just looked out at the horizon and took a deep breath. “I’m listening,” she said.

  “When I was running for office, so many people asked, ‘Why would we elect this nobody, this inexperienced former schoolteacher and hardware store owner? Why would we elect him to be the most powerful man in the world?’ And whether I was the right one for the job isn’t the point, but then I got into office and discovered that I really had so little power. Almost none, compared to these titans of industry, the elites, the CEOs of the billion- and trillion-dollar companies. They have the power, and I wonder sometimes if it’s even possible to take it away from them and return it to the people, or will the machines just take over anyway?”

  “I think you worry too much,” Linh said. “Even if you don’t believe in a higher power, I think it’s difficult to deny that there’s a force when millions of people, maybe even billions of people, all want the same thing and all push in the same direction. That much desire creates a force, and that force can move anything. So your job isn’t to change everything, it’s to get everybody heading in that direction, and the rest will happen by itself.” She smiled at him.

  He nodded.

  “And I’m not sure why you’re so concerned about artificial intelligence and computers taking over the world, but some days it certainly seems like that’s already happened,” Linh continued, smiling. “Nevertheless, the future is bright. The machines, no matter how advanced and magical they appear, do not possess a soul, and never will. Therefore, they can’t eclipse humans. But what they will do is allow us to focus on what is truly important by taking over all the mundane tasks and chores which will free up so much time and energy for us, that we’ll then be able to look inward and find so much more power within ourselves than we could ever imagine. That’s when we’ll move to the next level.”

  Hudson looked at her silently for several moments. “Thank you for that,” he said, feeling better. “I hope you’re right. Now, I have a favor to ask you.”

  “I don’t know where he is,” Linh said before Hudson could speak.

  “Who?”

  “You need to speak with Booker,” she said softly.

  “Yes, but how—”

  “I think it’s too late, but I will do my best to get word to him.”

  Melissa stole a few hours to travel up from California to join Hudson for what seemed to both of them like mere minutes before he left Oregon. He had a dozen people still trying to get word to Fonda. All the usual numbers and channels to her and Booker no longer worked.

  Hudson knew at any minute NorthBridge could strike, and Cherry Tree would no longer be an option. The prospect of a bloody war between NorthBridge and the REMies with his administration caught in the middle gnawed at him, as if he were being pursued by a pack of hungry wolves from one direction and a pride of lions from the other. He and Melissa made love as if the world was ending, because they knew, one way or another, it was.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Dranick was waiting for Hudson as Marine One touched down on the White House lawn. The two old friends immediately went to the Situation Room, where they sat alone, discussing the intelligence-gathering efforts of the 3D surveillance system. They’d been utilizing the NSA’s “big brother” camera network to gather information on the REMies.

  “There’s so much chatter,” Dranick began. “NorthBridge, foreign terrorists, a dangerous array of bad actors . . . and they all appear to be zeroing in on this time period. Clearly they perceive the country is vulnerable.”

  “We’re not that weak,” the president said.

  Dranick gave him a doubtful look. “Are you sure? There are those in the Pentagon who are gravely concerned.”

  “The Pentagon? Sometimes I think they’re as big a threat as the REMies, or NorthBridge.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” Dranick said. “There are those in the service that are probably part of the conspiracy, but overall I think the military wants to protect the country.”

  “You know, people always say it’s impossible to keep a conspiracy secret, but what they don’t understand is that almost all the ones involved in the conspiracy don’t even know it’s a conspiracy. The workers at the CIA, NSA, the Department of Defense . . . they all believe they’re helping the country by protecting Americans from ‘bad people’ seeking to do us harm, but those workers are victims of the same conspiracy that they’re part of without even knowing it. They’re actually trying to protect the country from themselves. Incredible. The REMies have woven an endless and reality-distorting web. Damn them.”

  “Yeah, these are insane times. But if we stop the REMies . . . ” Dranick paused.

  “What is it Enapay?” the president asked, sensing his friend was troubled.

  “The chatter,” he said. “There are groups—Omnia, the Aylantik, Mirage, TechTrains, branches of the REMies, and others, it’s hard to say how many. Even your friend at the Inner Movement has a revolutionary faction known as Inner Force. I feel like any moment, one spark and the world erupts into a splintering revolution that leaves us all vacant, wasted, dead.”

  “I’m so glad you’re so optimistic,” the president said sarcastically, patting his old army buddy on the back. “We’ll get through it.”

  “I think you need to throw a bone to the Pentagon,” Dranick said. “I don’t think they trust you.”

  “Of course they don’t trust me. I don’t trust them.”

  “But if everything is about to explode, they’re the ones who will keep the peace.”

  The president looked at his friend carefully and nodded. “Okay, I’ll set up a meeting with the Defense Secretary. We’ll have a little chat to make sure everybody’s one big happy family.”

  “Good,” Dranick said, visibly relieved. “I think that’s the smart move right now. Cherry Tree?”

  The president nodded again. “Yeah, I think we can launch on Monday. Melissa has us in good shape with the states, and Granger has given us a green light on Fair and Free.” Hudson looked at one of the blank screens across the room and thought about Booker. He knew Cherry Tree had a better chance if NorthBridge was on board, but if he couldn’t find Booker or Fonda over the weekend, it would be crazy to not launch, since all indications were that NorthBridge was about to blow the country apart. He had to launch before they did. “You know time is working against us. Every day we wait, it becomes riskier.”

  “Didn’t Fitz talk to you about selling it? The REMies won’t let your message out.”

  “We’ve got all Vonner’s media properties already loaded up and ready. The Wizard has almost completed a plan to take control of the unfriendly media—”

  “You mean you’re going to nationalize the media?”

  “No, nothing like that. Although, I wish I could,” the president said. “Instead, we’re just going to take control of their signals for a few days to make sure our content is seen by their audiences. Then we’ll hand it back to them and let them rip everything apart.”

  “So, the people are going to just believe all this?” Dranick asked. “I’ve been knee deep in it for more than a year and I’m still not sure I buy it.”

  “We’ve been in almost constant wars for the last hundred years. Really, when you think about it, we’ve just been butchering each other, raping the planet, and exploiting the people. Everyone feels that, though they may not want to believe it,” the president said in anger, “I’ve been told that the people have been too brainwashed to get it, but I think they already know. All they’re waiting for is for it to be acknowledged, and when they see our proof—”

  “You simplified it, right?” Dranick asked.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty slick, but easy to understand. And remember, everyone has lived through this nightmare. They know we’re not on the right track, that something is definitely not right—too many people left ou
t, too much suffering, having to just work and work and work . . . that’s not living. I really don’t think we’re going to get much resistance to the story we’re telling. The truth has a way of smoothing out all the kinks and wrinkles, because the truth is the truth.” The president stared at one of the monitors showing violent demonstrations taking place in Chicago. “Whenever I speak of truth, I’m reminded of the words of Martin Luther King, Jr.: ‘I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality . . . I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.’ His statement gives me hope for Cherry Tree.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right,” Dranick said, looking at him very seriously. “Otherwise, I believe we’ll have a fierce reckoning with unintended consequences.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  It had taken three days to arrange the video call with Fonda. During that time, Hudson had reluctantly delayed the launch of Cherry Tree.

  “You look well, Hudson, for a man who’s cheated death so many times.”

  “Thanks, Fonda, so do you,” the president said. “You’re a difficult woman to get ahold of.”

  “By design, my friend. Wait, are we still friends? I keep forgetting. Let’s see, you’ve been trying to arrest me and put me in jail forever. Maybe we aren’t friends.”

  “My own party doesn’t trust me. I was never the most conservative Republican, but—”

  “But now you’re more like a Democrat,” Fonda finished.

  “I’m a liberal conservative, or conservative liberal,” Hudson said. “Shouldn’t we all be?”

  “No. The REMies have conveniently made two parties—everything is a contest, everything’s us against them. We’ve been trained to root for our favorite team and not even look at the other point of view.”

  “We’re close to the brink, Fonda. I wanted to try to bring NorthBridge on board with our plans one more time, for the good of the country.”

  “Good of the country?” Fonda said, a strained tone in her voice. “There’s no country to talk about. At least not in the way you mean. There hasn’t been a country in your or my lifetime. We’re a corporation, my dear—”

  “Fonda, I didn’t go to all the trouble of tracking you down to hear another one of your rants,” the president said.

  “My rants? I haven’t even begun . . . I can’t believe people trust politicians with money. In the first place, you can’t trust politicians with anything, and yet we’ve given them a blank check for more than a hundred years.”

  “Are you even capable of having a discussion?”

  “I keep ranting because I’ve been covering these ‘stories’ for decades and watching the last shred of truth get swallowed up in the elite’s MADE world. Did you ever stop and ask what drove someone like me to join the movement? None of us were radical terrorists, but we knew the truth, and saw no other path forward.”

  “A dangerous path,” the president said. “Leading to what?”

  “I’m just so disappointed in you, Hudson,” she said quietly, with sincere regret.

  “You are? What would you have me do? I’ve tried to get investigations and independent counsels to look at the CIA director, NSA overreach, Covington, banking, Bastendorff, Coyne, Booker, and all the other REMies. Each seem to have their own people in the government. The Senate and Congress belong to the REMies. I can’t get anything done. The deep state bureaucrats, corruption everywhere, the damned leakers, and all the lobbyists and influencers—the REMies have rigged the game.”

  “Poor, poor, Hudson,” Fonda said. “That’s been my point all along. Nothing you’ve tried has worked. You’ve been beating your head against the wall. That’s why you need to allow NorthBridge to take care of things.”

  “There is an order—”

  “Order? Yes, there is . . . Titus Coyne is behind the Fed interest rate hikes, wreaking havoc on the economy with their false system—inflationary booms and busts, yanking everybody around. The constant control by the one percent. Ha! Isn’t it amazing that there hasn’t been a revolution already when the one percent hold almost all the wealth? Why aren’t the ninety-nine percent screaming bloody murder and rioting in the streets? I’ll tell you why—because they’ve been so manipulated and brainwashed for so long, they seem to think it’s a good idea trusting a bunch of greedy banksters with the whole economy. And not just that, who thinks it makes sense to put for-profit corporations in charge of their healthcare? Don’t they know it’s in a corporation’s best interest to screw you? Why would they—”

  “You’re ranting again.”

  “Somebody has to. You know what they’ve been doing, and you just watch them go on and continue to do it. You’re too polite—”

  “Maybe I’ve gone too slow, maybe I messed things up, but that doesn’t mean your way is right.”

  “Oh Hudson, don’t worry. The country survived Richard Nixon, Bill Clinton, and Donald Trump. It’ll survive Hudson Pound.” Then her expression turned delightedly mischievous. “The question is will you survive with your apparently aggressive sexual appetites?”

  “Those accusations aren’t true, and you know it.”

  “Wait a minute, are you denying those charges? Yes, a president must be trusted, like when Ronald Reagan said, and I quote, ‘We did not, I repeat, did not trade weapons or anything else to Iran for hostages.’ Or when Bill Clinton told us he ‘did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Lewinsky.’ Is that what you’re saying? Oh no, no, no, wait, we trust the president. I remember Richard Nixon said, ‘I’m not a crook.’ Or that time Bush senior told us to read his lips, ‘no new taxes.’ What about Obama promising we could keep our health plan? I could go on and on. All presidents lie. Why are you any different?”

  “The truth is all I have.”

  “Then tell it, damn it!”

  “I’m about to.”

  “I know you are, but can you get it past the media? The REMies have used the media to spoon distractions, gossip, and scandal to the public for so long it’s like junk food—”

  “We’ve got the media covered, and we have a few people in Congress who are on our side,” Hudson said.

  “And I can name them,” Fonda said, rattling off the names accurately and in alphabetical order. “They aren’t enough.”

  “They’re a start,” the president countered. “Now we need NorthBridge to stop the violence.”

  “No.”

  “How can someone as smart as you not understand that we can achieve much more with huge peaceful rallies and more of the data dumps? Terrorism is polarizing; we need unity.”

  “Twenty years ago, your plan might have worked.”

  “We’ve got Vonner’s media properties ready to spin the message our way. With Booker’s assets, we could—”

  “There isn’t enough time. There’s too much corruption, Hudson, you know that.”

  “Damn it Fonda, I need NorthBridge to end the violence and put the organization’s force behind the agenda we both believe in.”

  “So you can launch Cherry Tree?”

  “I assume Thorne filled you in on the plan? I never would’ve told him had I known he was AKA Hancock.”

  “We didn’t need Thorne to tell us about Cherry Tree.”

  Her statement unnerved him. Booker supplied the surveillance state with most of their tools; it was horrifying to think about what that man knew. Hudson wondered if there was anywhere to hide, anywhere to find privacy anymore from the government, the NSA, CIA, FBI, and all the secret alphabet agencies no one has ever heard of and the elites who control them.

  “We’re going to show the American people.”

  “Don’t do it,” Fonda said. “Don’t launch Cherry Tree yet. You aren’t ready.”

  “I never said when we were going to launch.”

  “Even if we didn’t already know you were about to, I think your latest timeline calls for the ini
tial launch to take place today.” Fonda squinted at him, as if to drill her point home and twist the knife a little deeper. “We have so many ways of learning your plans, but your call would have told me that you’re close anyway. This is a last-ditch effort to get us on board because you know that Cherry Tree is a long shot.”

  “It’ll work.” He thought of the Kennedy papers that had been hidden in the Resolute Desk. That story alone would add to the outrage that the REMies had controlled and killed for generations . . .

  “You’re counting on the brainwashed sheep to wake up all at once when you show them your horde of facts and figures, assorted colorful charts, and a passel of extreme claims. It’s too much for them to comprehend, and they’ll be unwilling to believe.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “And then what do you think, that the REMies are going to run? Take a deep breath and get real. They’re going to get all their people to call you a conspiracy nut. They’ll say that you were brain-damaged during those nine minutes. You’ll be impeached if you’re lucky, dead or imprisoned if you’re not.”

  “Dammit, Fonda, I am begging for your help!”

  “I know you are. And you have no idea how much I’ve already helped you.” She paused. “But what you’re asking for now is something I cannot do.”

  “What does it cost NorthBridge to stand down and halt the violence and attacks for a few months to see if Cherry Tree can take root?”

  “The revolution,” Fonda said. “It’ll cost us the revolution.”

  “Why?” Hudson looked at her and suddenly gasped. “Oh . . . of course. I don’t quite have the intelligence network NorthBridge does, but I should’ve figured it out. You’re going to switch to open warfare mode . . . before Cherry Tree, aren’t you?”

  She smiled, secretly pleased he’d figured it out. “It’s too late to stop it.”