by Brandt Legg
Mite studied him, knowing that Drast had to try, but he worried that the AOI was now on alert about the prisons, or at least Hilton. “Without the coordination, without the surprise, we have less of a chance.”
They watched the guards break up the fight, which had grown to include four inmates. Threats were exchanged, promises made in raged shouts. Drast was happy with the result. It wasn’t even his life that concerned him most. He always knew that he might not live through the revolution, but he worried about what Grandyn had told him.
If the war started from the prisons, they would lose. That would now be up to Chelle. If she could help him and, at the same time, hold PAWN back for another week or two, then it might be okay. After that, they could start the war in the Aylantik region, which offered their best strategic advantage -- surprise.
Aylantik region included the east coast of what was formerly known as the United States of America. It was the AOI’s stronghold, both in popular support and numbers of agents. PAWN striking at the heart of the empire would shock the AOI. Drast didn’t expect the prison uprising to be nearly as damaging to the AOI as originally planned because of the muted effects of the delay, but the influx of “talent” to the revolution would still be helpful.
“It is true, waiting has weakened us. We may lose, but the AOI has made a mistake with their prisons. They’ve created a recruitment center, a think tank and a breeding ground for all those who oppose them.” Drast looked up at the guard towers and continued in a raspy whisper, as elusive and vaporous as the wind that came off the ocean in momentary gusts. “A government that uses prisons as a tool to control is destined to become imprisoned by its control.”
Chapter 9 - Book 3
Deuce met Nelson at the dock on Ryder Island. “I need to go to the mainland,” Nelson said as he got out of the small boat, which had carried him from Runit Island.
“What for?” Deuce asked, implying in his tone that Nelson might not be permitted to leave.
“Revolution business.” Nelson accepted Deuce’s hand to help him up off the dock.
“I’m going to have to know more about this.”
“Look Deuce, you and I have been in this together for three years, and we’ve known each other a while. After all that, and with everything that’s happened, I’m still not sure I can trust you.” He looked at the trillionaire as if inspecting a dog that might turn rabid. “But I think you know you can trust me.”
Deuce patted Nelson’s upper arms, and after a long pause, where he looked into Nelson’s stony eyes, he nodded. “Okay.” He handed him a pack of neuro-caps. “If you’re caught, don’t let them discover what you know.”
Nelson stuffed a hand in his pants pocket and pulled out two more packs. “Shoot, Deuce, are you forgetting who my sister is?” He took Deuce’s and shoved them all back into his pocket. “But I assure you my mind is too messy for the AOI to find anything useful, except maybe the best doughnut place in Portland.”
Almost two hours later, Nelson was on the outskirts of Vancouver in British Columbia Area. He had donned KEL-beating nano-tracers, microscopic decals affixed to the face, and had entered and left enough shops, hotel and office building lobbies, and at least one restaurant with a great dessert menu, that he now felt sure he had not been followed. He’d positioned himself in a small park surrounded by trees. The shade was both strategic and comfortable, as it was a hot summer day. He ate a chocolate éclair, procured at the place with the dessert menu, and then zoomed the man who had called him Baker-Boy.
“I see you got my message,” Blaise said.
“I wonder if you called me Baker-Boy at our first meeting just so you would have a code name that only I knew, made all the better because not even I knew it until you used it.”
“Nothing is ever an accident,” Blaise said, “nonetheless, it fits you. Even more than it used to. I think you’ve grown two sizes, and no surprise. There’s a little chocolate on your cheek.” Blaise shook his head in disapproval.
“I went to a lot of trouble to find a safe place away from Deuce’s monitoring and I’m at risk of detection by the AOI, so I’m really not in the mood for your insults.”
Nelson was in an entirely different position from when they first met three years earlier at the Portland airport. That was before the books had been taken, before the Doneharvest, and before the Justar Journal had been found. Blaise seemed to have the world in his hands in those days, but not now.
“All right, Baker-Boy, I’ll leave you alone. I just don’t like to see such a bright and talented person turn into a . . . well, let’s just say it’s a good thing the AOI hasn’t caught you because they’d have a hard time deciding whether to toss you in prison, or send you to Hop.”
Nelson ended the zoom. His INU lit up almost immediately as Blaise tried to reconnect, but Nelson ignored it. Instead he lit a bac and took a swig from his freshly filled flask, thanks to one of his stops since leaving the island. As the INU continued to blink, he inhaled the wonderful smoke and felt it expand in his battered lungs. Warm and harsh, the calming combination of tobacco and alcohol washed over him. After he lit a second bac, he answered the zoom.
“Damn it, Baker-Boy! This is no time to fool around.”
“I quite agree,” Nelson said, squinting at the hologram image of Blaise.
Blaise stared back. Nelson thought he could detect a hint of respect in his eyes, or it might have been resignation. Either way, he didn’t expect any more comments about his weight.
“You are correct. Forgive me. Sometimes I . . . get the better of myself.” Blaise tipped his head in a slight bow. “It was good of you to come. The revolution just got a whole lot more complicated, the world more dangerous, and I fear the future of our species is in jeopardy.” Blaise flashed a quick, apologetic smile as if the statement he’d just made would have a damaging effect.
“Care to elaborate?”
“The Imps have decided to enter the fray.”
Nelson raised his eyebrows. “On whose side?”
“Their own.”
“What are they thinking?”
“That they can do a better job at directing humans through the evolution of higher thought and on to enlightenment, but I have my doubts.”
“I should think so. Those freaks can barely function in society. People call them vampires for a reason you know.”
“Yes, well, I do know. I created the technology that enables them to do all that they do. That allows them to exist really.” He paused and brushed away Nelson’s cloud of smoke, but because he was a hologram nothing happened. “It’s actually a bit worse than just that.”
Nelson reached for his flask, then stopped for fear of another lecture, but it already seemed quite horrible, and he didn’t want to know what could possibly be worse. There were too many sides to the conflict, which could erupt at any moment, but at least those were expected to fall into two sides once the action started. However, the Imps would fight in entirely different ways, ones that were impossible to know, and maybe difficult to combat.
“Not many people know this, but I have created a kind of cross between an Imp and a human.”
Nelson felt sick.
Blaise continued. “I call them Cloned Human Replacement Unit DesTIn Enabled, or CHRUDEs. They are virtually impossible to tell apart from regular humans, but, as you might have guessed from their name, they are the most advanced form of artificial intelligence ever devised.”
“Damn you Blaise,” Nelson said, shaking his head. “You could have helped save the world and instead you’re destroying it.”
“We used a CHRUDE to help Grandyn stay hidden,” Blaise said, ignoring Nelson’s comment. “No one could tell the difference. Not even Lance Miner.”
“So that’s why they think they killed Grandyn? They actually killed a CHRUDE?”
“Yeah.”
“Then the technology is that good? I saw the footage on the Field. I assumed it was another Grandyn look alike.”
“No, it was
a CHRUDE.”
Nelson realized that nothing would ever be the same again. He could be talking to someone and not even know if they were human or not. Frightening. “And they’re super smart?”
“Smarter than Imps, maybe smarter than me,” Blaise said, completely serious. “I created the technology, which has enabled CHRUDEs and Imps to think on such elaborate scales‒‒”
“Elaborate? They think they can take over the world, or at least do a better job of running it.”
“Who’s to say they can’t?” Blaise said. “Humans have had thousands of years and all we do is keep torging it up. But you’re missing the point, and I would think you’d be especially good at getting this. They aren’t doing it for greed, or revenge, or justice, or even fear. None of the reasons the various Traditionals are killing each other for.”
“Then why?”
“They believe they can save us from ourselves.” Blaise gave an ironic smile. “They think they can show us how to reach our souls.”
“Machines are going to connect us with God?”
“Or destroy us trying.”
Chapter 10 - Book 3
The Health-Circle issued another warning, expanding the call for medical checks to the Aylantik region and parts of several other regions. They cited the threat from terrorists and the feared use of bio-weapons. Rumors circulated in the population centers of the Pacyfik region that a dangerous terror group known as PAWN wanted to re-create the Banoff. The Health-Circle assured people that booster shots would be given to protect them from any attempts to infect them.
Fye watched the reports on a VM projecting between her and Grandyn. He was busy reading PAWN assessments of current troop levels of P-Force, BLAXERs, and AOI amid increasing tensions.
“This is it,” Fye said, her sandy blonde hair twirled on top of her head and held with a silver stick capped with a small piece of turquoise. The temperature outside hovered above thirty-eight degrees Celsius for the third day.
Grandyn glanced up from his VM. “What is it?”
“The Health-Circle is giving everyone boosters.”
“That’s nothing new,” he said.
“But you know those shots are not a cure . . . they’re control.”
“I do know. Chelle Andreas saved me from my last one.”
Fye nodded, smiling and looked at her stomach with a knitted brow. She was quiet for a moment. “It’s just that the Health-Circle follows a schedule. Most people wouldn’t notice it, but the List Keepers keep track, and there is a real pattern to what the AHC does. This one is out of place.”
“The AOI knows we’re about to go to war, and they’re using the fear of the Banoff plague to turn the population against PAWN even before they know who or what PAWN really is.”
“That may be part of it, but the AOI underestimates how many people in the general population already know about, and are sympathetic to PAWN. There are more people who belong to PAWN living in plain sight than those that live in the POPs,” she said, looking at Grandyn softly. “Unfortunately, you’re not the only one who has had loved ones killed by the AOI, and every time someone disappears, is arrested, or executed, someone from PAWN shows up to recruit the family and friends. It’s been going on for decades.”
Grandyn thought of his parents, and of Vida. The pain of those losses were as much a part of him as his heart and lungs, to the point where he couldn’t remember what it felt like not to know that searing ache. Trying to imagine himself without it was impossible.
Of course there were others, he shared responsibility for many. All those TreeRunners who had pretended to be him in exchange for an AOI death sentence. In his time as Terik, with the AOI, he’d seen tens of thousands of files showing victims of the Doneharvest, and there were even more prior to that in everyday enforcement activities. Peace and the utopian world came at a great price . . . a dystopian regime.
“I know,” he said quietly.
“You know about it from the AOI side, but the AHC is worse because people trust them. Painting PAWN as a terrorist group and giving the world a villain to hate is only a side benefit. The Aylantik’s real objective is to make sure everyone gets their shots. The regular boosters allow the AHC to have total control. PharmaForce has developed a series of additives that can be released in the water supplies or even into the air.” She paused.
Grandyn could tell by Fye’s voice, as it got slightly higher, and her expression, which looked like a friend had just slapped her for no reason, that what she was about to say was going to be awful. “What is it?” he asked, reaching for her hand as she still hesitated.
“With PharmaForce’s additives and the Health-Circle’s booster shots, they can kill any, or all of the population with almost no effort.”
They stared at each other’s horrified expressions. Fye felt like she was cutting into Grandyn’s heart each time she told him something new about the atrocities of the Aylantik. Grandyn thought about their unborn child, wondering if he wanted to bring yet another victim into the world.
“What if we lose?” Grandyn asked.
“It doesn’t mean they win. As soon as this thing starts, the Aylantik as we know it is through. The question is, will we get something worse?”
“Hard to imagine.”
She nodded, but it wasn’t hard for her. She’d seen List Keeper simulations which made the Aylantik look like sweethearts. “It’s so easy for us to make a few missteps that lead to a hellish reality. There are three List Keepers whose sole work is to use super powerful INUs to trace human history, looking for just such missteps. They’ve shown that what one person chose to study in college led to war. All kinds of mundane decisions have created havoc, but it’s usually which laws we pass, which leaders we follow, and the economic models we pursue.”
“What decision led to the Aylantik?” he asked.
“The List Keepers have traced that to the failure of the military industrial complex, particularly the last twenty years of the twentieth century, and the first twenty of this one. Something as awful as the Banoff and the Aylantik, which arose from the ashes, doesn’t just happen overnight. We have insane amounts of data on that. Corrupt politicians, weapon manufacturers, giant banks, oil companies, agribusiness, pharmaceuticals, and the super wealthy who controlled them.”
“We need to show the people the proof of what happened and who did it. Show them what the Aylantik really is, tell them that PAWN aren’t the terrorists, AOI and AHC are.”
“I hope we get the chance.”
“How can we stop the shots?”
“They’ve already started. They’ve been going on for days.”
“I know, but it will take time to give tens of millions of them. We need to shut them down.”
“Now you know why the List Keepers have been opposed to war. When it starts, the AHC can simply wipe out any part of the population they want and blame PAWN . . . and it’s over.”
Chapter 11 - Book 3
Nelson returned to the safety of Runit Island. With the war about to start, he wanted to be in a POP somewhere, but he could do the most good with Munna and Deuce. When he arrived, he found Twain in conversation with his father. While Munna slept, Twain had just tried to make the VMs show the prophecies.
“Nelson, welcome back,” Deuce said.
Nelson gave him a quick nod on his way to Twain. The two former students of Cope hugged and smiled.
“Thanks for all you did,” Twain said as they broke apart.
“Want to talk about it?” Nelson asked.
Twain glanced at his father.
“Don’t mind me,” Deuce said. “Pretend I’m not here.” Although he’d asked his son several times to tell him what happened in the redwoods, so far Twain had refused.
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, Dad. It’s that you won’t approve, and I know you won’t want me to go back.”
“Twain, you’re thirty-two years old. I can’t stop you from doing whatever you want. I wouldn’t even think of it. Ho
wever, your mother is a different matter, especially after the scare you gave her, but that’s between you and her. You have to lead the life that makes you happy, that feels true.”
“What happened to me in the redwoods . . . ” he began, while looking out the window to the ocean. “I was trying to control my cells like she does.” He motioned to the hall which led to the bedrooms where Munna was napping.
Deuce already wanted to ask several questions, but held back. He did catch Nelson’s eye, and gave him a look that he hoped would convey his desire to talk with him later.
“UC had taught me how she did it, a kind of intense meditation. Munna’s been doing it so long that she can do it almost anywhere, but when you’re just starting out, you need to be in the most remote place you can find, so deep in nature that there isn’t even a trace of human activity. Not even a trail. At that point, you have to forget the world. This is not an easy thing, and can take days, weeks, or even longer.”
“Wait a minute.” Deuce didn’t want to interrupt but couldn’t help himself. “If UC taught you how to do this, then that means he could do it?”
“Yes.”
“But he died,” Deuce said as if feeling the loss anew. “Cope let himself die when he could have saved himself? He could be here now helping me through this . . . he must have known the world is at stake . . . the world!”
“What happened is that UC didn’t want to live any longer. He wanted to go on to the next phase,” Twain said. “After this life is a whole other thing, and he said he needed to see it.”