by Brandt Legg
Taking his smile as a compliment, she stared silently down on the sixteenth century plaza. At the eastern end the presidential palace, the Casa Rosada, stood clearly visible, and the main balcony from which Eva Peron addressed the crowds seemed to glow in the midday sun. Thinking of the magnetic Evita, Sarlo shivered at the ease at which one person could change history.
“Grandyn can tell us what is going to happen,” Miner said, bringing her back from a hundred fifty years of thoughts.
She turned to face him. “Meaning?”
“There are,” he hesitated, “prophecies.” He could immediately see the doubt on her face. “Keep an open mind.” His dark eyebrows raised and he caught her curious brown eyes.
And she would. Sarlo was smart enough to know what she didn’t know. They had been through a lifetime of accomplishments, plots, and world-improving results during the past dozen years. She believed in him, and, in spite of the Drast event, she thought he was never wrong.
Still, prophecies? That would be the farthest she’d ventured out on the limb with him.
“Prophecies?” she asked skeptically, this time aloud.
“Let me tell you a story that began more than nine centuries ago.”
Chapter 4 – book 2
The Chief continued speaking, occasionally in several languages, to more than four hundred AOI agents assigned to find Grandyn Happerman. With her razor-short gray hair and abundance of confidence, or was it arrogance, she seemed more like a military general addressing troops.
Normally conferences of this nature were done across the “Field,” which might be best described as a descendant of the Internet. It connected all things and nearly everyone on the planet through their INUs, marble-sized supercomputers worn around necks. But the situation had grown so dire that all the agents had been summoned to Portland, a large city in the Oregon Area part of the Pacyfik region, to hear from the AOI Chief in person.
Portland had been at the center of the storm since the closing of the world’s last library, but it was more of a symbolic choice for another reason, at least based on the rumors. Polis Drast, the former AOI head of the Pacyfik region, had been arrested there outside his office. The official report said he’d been killed in the line of duty, but the AOI “silent-talk” said otherwise.
The AOI operated forty-eight prisons for the entire planet. The official Aylantik policy was that crime was unforgivable, and prison was not meant to be a place of reform. Inmates at those institutions were mostly allowed to remain alive for whatever value they might provide the state. If a criminal didn’t have anything that could help the AOI, they were usually put to death. Low-level crimes were handled with community service, house arrest, and fines. But serious crime meant a one-way trip to an AOI-max. Fortunately, Terik had a few contacts at the AOI prison located on an island off the coast of Vancouver, where he’d heard Drast was being held.
“Recent reports, updated minutes ago,” the Chief continued, “show we’re closer to Grandyn than perhaps we’ve ever been before.” Terik looked for some kind of emotion on her face but found none. He realized that in his three years of working for her, he had never once seen her smile or heard her laugh, even during the most informal of occasions. “As I speak now, two separate sightings are being investigated. He will be found, and when that time comes, we must be prepared to eradicate his influence.”
Terik assumed the Chief was wearing a Retina-synch, which allowed her to access data through what amounted to a micro-contact lens. He discreetly checked his INU and created a small Virtual Monitor about the size of an index card. With the VM open, his fingers quickly shuffled through real-time updates. In less than fifteen seconds he found the ones referred to by the Chief: swarm drones in pursuit of a high-value target in the Amazon, possibly Grandyn Happerman. But as usual, data transmissions from large forests were spotty.
How can no one fix this problem? he wondered, thinking of the regular use of the Field and data to and from the moon and Mars bases, but the Aylantik could not communicate across wilderness areas here on Earth. The second sighting, less surprising, had campers near Mt. Shasta reporting a group of suspected TreeRunners, including one positively identified by several people as Grandyn Happerman.
The agency had long believed Grandyn was still hiding in the vast tracts of forest in the Northwest portion of what used to be the United States. The world, now divided into twenty-four regions running north to south, currently had more forested land than when European explorers first set out to explore the globe six hundred years earlier. Grandyn Happerman had grown up studying and living in the trees. He could be anywhere. Terik wanted to be out there seeing firsthand what they’d found instead of inside listening to his boss.
“TreeRunners, as you all know, still exist,” the Chief said in a formal tone in which Terik detected more than a touch of bitterness. “We have banned the organization so that no more of these parasites will be trained and brainwashed. The AOI has punished thousands of them, but those who escaped, including Grandyn Happerman, are not just in hiding. They are, even now, plotting against the state. The information we’ve obtained from the brain scans of recent captures show that they, along with other rebel factions, are planning a major attack within the next ninety days.”
“Why is Grandyn the key?” an agent asked.
“Did you not review the background material?” the Chief asked in clipped syllables.
“Yes, of course I did,” the agent replied, laughing nervously. “It just didn’t seem clear.”
At the brief sound of his laugh, the Chief reacted as if she’d been slapped. Her head jerked in reflex action. It was so quick that most probably didn’t notice, but Terik caught it, wondering if the humorless woman would be up to the pressure that was on its way. He shook his head. This poor dumb agent was going to be doing patrols in the middle of the boreal forest in old Siberia by the end of the day, but Terik had thought the same thing about the file on Grandyn, and suspected many of his fellow agents did as well.
Why did they want him so badly?
“Really?” the Chief asked indignantly, glaring at the agent. “In what way wasn’t it clear?”
“It appears to center around his parents,” the agent replied. “The mother was a lifelong member of PAWN and a historian.”
Terik cringed at the reference to the largest of the rebel groups, “PAWN.” People Against World Nation had already caused him serious problems, but now, according to AOI analysts, PAWN had joined forces with the TreeRunners and other groups, and now were readying to start their long-planned revolution.
The agent continued speaking about Grandyn’s parents. “The father, a librarian, stole a truckload of physical books. Neither seemed particularly powerful enough to threaten the peace, and certainly not the AOI. Then their son, a TreeRunner, joined PAWN at eighteen, allegedly becoming some kind of leader overnight.”
Terik noticed the odd color of the sunlight that streamed in from one of the high windows and recognized it as the pink effect of the sound-proof nano shroud in place on the building.
The agent continued. “Although there don’t seem to be any facts to support the idea that Grandyn is doing much more than hiding, and he’s what, twenty-one now? Why would people follow him?”
“Great leaders are not determined by age,” the Chief retorted. “History is filled with young adults who rose to power and changed the world: Augustus Caesar, Joan of Arc, Alexander the Great . . . a cause which people rally around articulated by a charismatic person will make that person a leader, no matter the age. Grandyn Happerman has both the cause and the charisma, as well as the pedigree, to lead. But more important than that, he has the skills. By all accounts, he excelled in the TreeRunners to a level not typically seen.”
“But Chief, you still have not answered the question. Why is he the key?”
Terik almost laughed. The AOI typically held back information from their agents. Secrecy and distrust were hallmarks of the agency, and this guy was pu
shing his luck. But still, Terik admired his tenacity and wanted to know the answer, so he was silently rooting for him.
“The revolutionaries, as you might know if you have actually reviewed everything,” the Chief replied, trying unsuccessfully to remain patient, ”have Munna, their symbolic leader, Chelle Andreas, their tactical commander, and Nelson Wright, the former novelist, as their propagandist. But the man who can lead them into battle, who can employ guerilla and terrorist tactics and is expert at survival and evasive actions, is Grandyn Happerman.”
She scowled at the agent, who still seemed unsatisfied. Terik too, wanted the missing piece.
“Now go find him so we can cut the head off the monster who wants to destroy our peaceful world. Go find the lost TreeRunner.” She swept her eyes across the room and gave her standard closing. “Peace prevails, always.”
Chapter 5 - Book 2
Deuce Lipton listened in on the secure AOI conference. As the world’s richest man and the owner of the companies that manufactured much of the technology that enabled the Aylantik’s surveillance-state to monitor every breath taken by its happy citizens, he could also claim title to the most powerful man alive. However, Deuce was greatly outnumbered.
The A-Council, a secretive group of the world’s elite, actually controlled the Aylantik, and thus the AOI. He, like most, had allies and enemies, with most of his time spent trying to keep the scales tipped toward his friends, or at least in finding a balance.
He had offices around the world, though in recent years he favored those located in the western part of the North American continent. Most of his private workplaces included sophisticated planetariums built into the ceilings. He loved the stars, a trait he shared with his son, Twain. In the background, turned low, another of his passions was playing: Billie Holiday signing “You Better Go Now.” Deuce found the old music, particularly Holiday, Bessie Smith, and Louis Armstrong, eased his stress like nothing else. He listened only on vinyl, and had a small and rare collection which he often traveled with. The old players weren’t regularly made anymore, but Deuce had them custom-made.
That he remained alive and had kept most of his wealth were testament to something more than alliances, accumulated power, or riches. He owed his continued existence to the enlightening words of his late uncle Cope. “There is no greater force in the universe than the recognition of the dream and the knowledge that all energy emanates from one source. Whatever name you call it, this thing is best described as love.” That wisdom had guided Deuce during the tumultuous years since the Doneharvest.
His uncle had been a very unusual man, living his life in seclusion among the trees. He’d meditated and contemplated to the point where most would have considered him a mystic, although almost no one knew Cope Lipton had ever lived at all. But Deuce, and his now twenty-nine-year-old son, Twain, had called Uncle Cope “UC.” UC had a way of seeing, of knowing things before they happened. The moments that followed his death had been so strange that Deuce still couldn’t speak about it, not even with Twain, who had been the only other person present.
As he listened to the AOI Chief chastise the young agent for daring to question the official story about Grandyn Happerman, he worried about more than a revolution, more than the AOI or even the fate of the last remaining physical books in the world. Deuce Lipton, maker of the Eysen INUs, owner of the leading space company, StarFly, and the undisputed king of tech, worried about DesTIn, an artificial intelligence program that far surpassed the collective capacity of all the brains of human history. Technological singularity had been achieved, and the DesTIn network had been, for some years, improving itself, and now it had intellectual capacity and capabilities beyond human comprehension.
That frightening singularity event might have occurred fifty years sooner had the Banoff, in which billions had died in plague and war more than seventy years earlier, not interrupted the exponential expansion of many technologies. But now that it had happened and the artificial intelligence superiority existed, Deuce feared it might destroy all he was trying to save before he got the chance to realize his grandfather’s vision of a society not run from the limited human perceptions, not interpreted by our five senses, and certainly not one created by machines, but rather originating in a place of awareness and enlightenment.
Blaise Cortez, perhaps the antithesis of the Liptons, had created DesTIn with the seemingly single aim to consolidate power and the world’s wealth into his accounts. Deuce, now fifty-five, had known and studied Blaise, who was ten years younger, for decades, and yet couldn’t say he really understood him.
The unpredictable man of Spanish descent had traced his origins back to kings, explorers, and conquistadors. He’d helped and hindered each side in the multifaceted conflict. Eight factions vied for control, each looking to be in the strongest position when the standoff inevitably broke into violence. Blaise had a mental roster of the players, arranged alphabetically:
AOI
Creatives
Deuce Lipton (BLAXERs)
Lance Miner (P-Force)
List Keepers
Munna
PAWN
Rejectionists
Each group had utilized his services and equally been manipulated by Blaise, except perhaps the most secretive of the participants, the List Keepers. Interestingly, the List Keepers might have more in common with Blaise’s peculiar genius than any of the other groups. They used information and technology in brilliant and precise ways to shape the world into their vision for it. They, like PAWN, predated the Banoff, yet they were so mysterious that no one could even prove their existence. But eventually, even they had come to Blaise, and he had been all too happy to do them a favor.
Deuce also kept a chart of the parties to the revolution in his primary INU. He used one of Blaise’s DesTIn programs to extrapolate the data and variables to predict daily outcomes, and Deuce agreed with Miner that Blaise was key to the outcome because of his intersecting involvement with all the parties. No one else had true ties to all of them, but Deuce’s chart now showed ten groups with his notation on whether or not they wanted war and what alliance they would likely join if war came. Some believed Deuce would side with Aylantik, but that would be impossible for him to do and still pursue his grandfather’s vision. It was in his best interests to allow that speculation to float, and although he didn’t particularly want war, he didn’t believe it was avoidable.
Aylantik
AOI – peace – willing to kill everyone to get it
Lance Miner (P-Force) – peace
Rebels
Munna – peace
Creatives – peace
Deuce Lipton (BLAXERs) – war?
PAWN – war
TreeRunners – war
Rejectionists – war
List Keepers – unknown
Wildcards
Blaise – unknown
Trapciers (only rumored to exist) – unknown
The wildcards could go either way, since no one knew anything about the Trapciers and Blaise would likely play both sides until a winner looked likely, at which time he would lean their way. But Deuce believed it would be the lost TreeRunner who would decide the outcome. His supposed ability to find the eight key books and unravel the prophecies was critical to either side, and fortunately the AOI seemed, so far, to be missing that point.
Grandyn’s three-year vanishing act, as impressive as it had been, was, according to the DesTIn program, about to come to an end. Few people knew how Grandyn Happerman had been able to hide all that time while being aggressively sought by so many, but Deuce knew the answer.
Only the List Keepers could have saved Grandyn, and that fact gave Deuce his greatest hope for the future.
Chapter 6 - Book 2
The minutes passed in the root hole like dripping sap. He considered exiting and running the other way, trying to get back to Zaverly. There was room in the tree-base, and climbing up tall kapok trees was one of his many talents, but it might endanger her. Th
ere could be another wave of swarm drones, or even an AOI platoon of real-life agents, or “grunges,” as the rebels were fond of calling them.
The dense forests presented so many problems for the AOI because only DesTIn-enabled equipment could be utilized. Anything normally done over the Field wouldn’t work with the forest-blind, a term given to the phenomena of the Field’s being unable to penetrate forested areas. The high tech arsenal typically available to hunt fugitives became useless in the battle against TreeRunners, and specifically in the hunt for Grandyn. Swarm drones and grunges were the only options. Neither had proved effective, but in recent weeks the AOI high command had sent in thousands of grunges newly trained in forest reconnaissance and engagement. There had also been news from PAWN that the AOI had developed a new DesTIn-based detection weapon designed specifically for forest work. The level of DesTIn-based weaponry had been advancing rapidly, and the hunt for TreeRunners had fueled the race among manufacturers. DesTIn artificial intelligence programs allowed it to work without the need to communicate with human controllers.
While exploring his options, he heard the sound of cutting wood. Sawdust filtered down on his head as a red light blinked through the tangle of heavy roots and floating particles confirming his fears.
A new piece of AOI hardware had found him, and no path of escape existed.
He’d lost his communicator in the run and couldn’t call for help. There wouldn’t be time anyway. The only thing remaining to do, in preparation for certain death, was to check his ID chip. Secured into every Aylantik citizen, it detailed everything from parents, date of birth, health and financial records, education and job history, and other data no one even knew about. The chips were managed by the Aylantik Records Circle, and were updated at regular medical visits required by the government, but most people knew everything went straight to the AOI. A chip could be read only by a government reader, but they were all equipped with a quick ID system.