by D. A. Hill
—o—
The President sat behind his desk in the Oval Office as he had a hundred times before, every one of them in better circumstances, a look of deep sorrow and resignation on his face as he addressed the holo-cameras.
“Earlier today in South Dakota one hundred thirty-two Americans, one hundred twenty-seven civilians and five National Guardsmen, were killed in what can only be described as a food riot. Our heartfelt thoughts and prayers go out to the families of the fallen. America shares their heartbreak and their sorrow.”
“As tragic and regrettable as this incident is, I must remind everyone that those brave young men and women in uniform did exactly as they were required to do. We are in a national emergency where our future survival may well depend on how much food we manage to save. As your President and Commander-in-Chief I took an oath to protect this great nation from all enemies, foreign and domestic. Those who threaten the survival of this nation, including those who spread dissent and misinformation, and anyone who hoards or steals food, will be treated as enemies and traitors.”
“Troops will continue to guard food supplies and other vital resources and will continue to be authorized to use lethal force to do so. Goodnight, and God Bless America.”
—o—
Jenny Ryan watched the President’s address with a growing sense of disbelief. How could the President of the United States so boldly defend the military slaughter of unarmed civilians? It was compelling evidence that the government was deadly serious about conserving food supplies, with the emphasis on deadly. That could only be confirmation of her suspicions, that whatever was going on was way more frightening than the administration had been letting on. Jenny had been growing increasingly frustrated that she had made no notable progress in getting to the real story; she felt sad that innocent people had died, but knowing that there really was a big story yet to be uncovered gave her the encouragement she needed to keep going.
—o—
“Daddy, why are you crying?” his four year old daughter said as she sat on his lap and stroked his face. Her ten year old brother stood beside them and put his arms around his father.
Paul Carlson gave himself a moment to bask in the comfort of their unconditional love. That was what he needed right now, unconditional love. How else could anyone love a man who was doing what he was doing? “Daddy’s alright darling,” he said with a reassuring smile and an affectionate kiss on the top of his daughter’s head. “It’s just very hard being the President sometimes.”
Hard was an understatement, but how could he possibly tell them the truth, that he was crying because he had to let millions of people die, and that some of them were already dead, so that a few, too few, might live? Or that he dreaded what would happen to his children and many other children if the terrible plan he had set in motion did not succeed, as he was beginning to fear that it would not. He could barely admit these things to himself, let alone to anyone else.
—o—
Regina Lopez waited anxiously as the holo-link to Harry Branston’s office was established. He had been too busy managing the fallout from the food riots and related military actions to talk to her until now, even though her report was more than a week overdue. She should have welcomed the postponement since she did not yet have the conclusive information on Newton’s plans that Branston wanted. Lopez knew the delay was unlikely to improve Branston’s mood, despite being more his fault than hers.
She could have just asked Newton what his plans were—he said he had no secrets—but her dilemma was that she had no way to know whether what he told her was the truth. So for now she would only report the information she had managed to confirm independently. She spoke as soon as Branston’s holo-image began to appear, hoping that she might be able to throw him off balance by referring to the drone program’s illegal use of EMs. “Mr. Secretary, I have discovered that James Newton is planning to leverage an illegal technology that has been used by the Air Force covertly for the past twenty years.”
“I’m well aware the drone program has been using, shall we say, some unorthodox measures Major,” Branston replied, unmoved by her attempt to divert him from the real issue. The President had consulted with him before releasing the Ramirez Executive Order to Major Lopez; the illegal use of EMs came as no surprise. “What I want to know is how he plans to use this technology.”
“Mr. Secretary, he is planning to store human minds inside a computer for the duration of the emergency. As best I can tell he hasn’t really thought much beyond that step.” She could see from Branston’s expression he felt the same way about the idea as she did. “I know it sounds ridiculous, Mr. Secretary. Sir, it is ridiculous. I would recommend you ignore this as just one more crackpot idea, and James Newton as just one more crackpot.” She believed that wholeheartedly, and not just because it would suit her to be finished with this assignment.
“Not so quickly Major,” he replied. “James Newton is many things, but he’s no crackpot. There must be more to this plan than meets the eye. Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence Major Lopez. Simply because you have failed to uncover a comprehensive plan does not mean that such a plan does not exist. Keep digging. And please do not make the mistake of disappointing me again,” he said as he abruptly terminated the holo-link.
—o—
“OK so we’re agreed this is what we need?” Newton asked.
“Yes,” Cyrus answered. They had been discussing the computer hardware requirements for Newton’s Ark. The processing power and memory they required were almost trivial by current standards, but reliability was another thing entirely. The hardware would need to operate indefinitely, or at least as long as they wanted to live. It had taken them some time to agree on a solution that they believed would work—fully redundant systems backed up by nano-bots to make repairs. “Before you go there’s something I’d like to ask you James.”
“Go ahead,” Newton replied.
“I’m just wondering, what’s your motivation for all this? I mean I assume that an important man like you—a prominent supporter of the President—would have been offered a place in the government’s program.”
“That’s probably true, but I had my doubts about the plan from the start. When I tried to express them they fell on deaf ears. Closed minds are never a good sign Cyrus. The administration is still in denial, even after the food riots. I saw a problem that needed solving and I believed only I could solve it, not because I’m uniquely qualified, although the resources I have access to certainly help, but because they wouldn’t even accept that the problem existed. The stakes were simply too high not to act.”
“It’s just that you seem so positive about what we’re doing.”
“I’m a great believer that when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. This is our only option. We may as well make the best of it. Let’s not just survive, let’s thrive. We have a rare opportunity here Cyrus.”
“We do?” Cyrus was reconciled to existence as an EM, but he certainly did not see it as an opportunity to do anything other than survive. He knew he could create a comfortable virtual environment in which he could live a comfortable life, but it wouldn’t really be real would it? At best he thought of it as better than the alternatives, but only because the alternatives totally sucked. If there was a silver lining in this cloud he could not see it.
“Yes we do. I’m not some mad revolutionary who wants to destroy society so I can remake it, but it’s going to be destroyed anyway. We have a rare chance to start over. Americans haven’t had that option since the frontier was closed one hundred fifty years ago. We should think of ourselves like the pioneers, heading off into the untamed wilderness to carve out a new life and and a new society.”
Newton was clearly excited by the possibilities. All Cyrus could think of was how uncertain the lives of the pioneers were.
chapter 5
September 2045
The government had wisely selected two sites for its arks; it would not do for the aste
roid to land right where the United States had made its only preparations for ensuring the survival of American civilization. When Major Lopez decided to visit the closer of the two sites, conveniently located in Colorado, James Newton decided to tag along. It was not that he was worried what she would see; he was confident the Newton Group was doing its job, at least as well as anyone could expect in the circumstances. He wanted to see for himself if the government’s preparations were proving as difficult as he feared.
Newton was at least encouraged by the location the government had selected. The site—a mountain valley centered on the town of Granby, Colorado—had much to recommend it. Located eight thousand feet above sea level, and surrounded by mountains soaring as high as fourteen thousand feet, the valley was well protected against potential mega-tsunamis. Nearby lakes and the Fraser River provided a more than adequate supply of water. The Union Pacific railway line running through the middle of the valley provided the means to bring in the enormous amount of construction materials and supplies that would be needed to build a completely self-sufficient city in less than two years, a city in which a quarter of a million people could survive for twenty years.
The surrounding mountains also provided a natural defensive perimeter, a point that was emphasized as their vehicle made the long, steep climb up US Highway 40 and over Berthoud Pass at eleven thousand feet. Newton was pleased to come to a well-secured checkpoint as they neared the top of the pass, his first concrete proof of progress on the ark. With the perimeter secured and the twenty thousand residents of the valley relocated, it ought to be possible for work on the ark site to proceed largely unseen, something that was essential to the government’s strategy of maintaining secrecy. So far, so good he thought.
—o—
The weather in Granby was perfect as they arrived for their meeting with Brigadier-General Meredith Grimm, Army Corps of Engineers, the officer in charge of this ark. The heat of summer had passed but it was still warm and sunny. It was the sort of perfect day on which it is hard to imagine bad things ever happening in the world.
Newton did his best to blend into the background as he spent the day following Major Lopez and the various officers assigned by General Grimm to escort her on the inspection tour. It would not be appropriate for him to say too much—he did not want to be seen to be trying to influence Major Lopez’s assessment—so he used the opportunity to quietly observe and draw his own conclusions about the larger issue of progress on the ark.
What he saw did not encourage him. He waited for the conclusion of the debrief to speak his mind, after Major Lopez had indicated to the General that her report would state that the Newton Group was performing on its contract. “General, if I may take a moment of your time before we depart,” he said.
“Go ahead Mr. Newton,” she replied graciously, expecting him to mouth some pleasant platitudes.
“If you don’t mind me saying so General, my observation is that overall progress is less than I would have expected. Are you concerned?”
“Mr. Newton I appreciate your frankness.” That was not true. She was actually surprised and a little irritated by it. She had assumed that James Newton would be just another smooth-talking influence peddler, not a hands on manager who actually understood the practical realities of a program like this.
“We have certainly had some difficulties, especially in relocating the valley’s residents. It’s one thing to ask American soldiers to neutralize a village in some foreign country, but it’s a whole different matter to ask them to clear out a town full of American citizens at the point of a gun.”
“I can appreciate that General, but I also expected to see a greater build up of materiel. The trains I saw passing mostly seemed to be carrying coal.”
“We’ve had some trouble with Washington on that one,” she replied, the contempt showing in her voice. “Seems the congressmen in this part of the country aren’t too keen on explaining to their constituents why electricity needs to be rationed.”
“And what about construction crews? I suppose I expected to see a significant workforce assembled already and, well to be frank, more activity.”
“Mr Newton, I appreciate your concern,” General Grimm replied, her frustration with him apparent in her short tone. “I can assure you that I am fully aware of all the concerns you have raised. We’re working on these issues. I am confident the worst is over and we will deliver this ark on time.”
—o—
“Mr. Secretary, Major Lopez and Mr. Newton have just left,” General Grimm began.
“Is there a problem General?” Defense Secretary Harry Branston asked. He knew already that the answer would be yes—he had known in advance about Lopez and Newton’s visit and was not at all surprised that James Newton had caused trouble. He would have preferred to keep Newton away. That was unfortunately not possible; Newton was a major contractor on this ark and monitoring his performance was part of Major Lopez’s cover.
“It’s just that he seemed more interested in overall progress on the ark than with his company’s performance on its contract,” she answered. “He made some pointed observations about lack of progress. I’m concerned that he could spread negative news. He doesn’t seem like a team player, sir.”
“That he is not,” Branston said. He knew General Grimm was more interested in covering her ass than in giving him a heads up. After all, Newton was right, the ark was behind schedule, something that Grimm would fix, soon, or he would replace her. But the last thing he needed was James Newton telling the world that the military, and by implication Harry Branston, was not up to the task. “Don’t worry about that General. You focus on getting the program back on track. Let me take care of Mr. Newton. If he or Major Lopez show up again, let me know immediately, before you show or tell them anything. Understood?”
—o—
As they cleared the checkpoint for the second time and began their descent out of the valley, Newton noted the aspens at this elevation were already beginning to turn yellow, reminding him that winter comes early and stays late in these high mountains. Not ideal conditions for a major construction project with time pressures; it was just one more challenge the ark program really did not need.
“What is your conclusion Major?” Newton asked. He was less interested in her opinion for its own sake than in forcing her to confront the reality that the government’s arks would fail.
“You were there Mr. Newton. As I told General Grimm, the Newton Group is performing in accordance with its contract.”
“Not about that Major. I’m interested in your view on the overall state of progress on the ark.”
Regina Lopez could not ignore the evidence. She had seen the same things Newton had seen. She could not ignore the fact that some things she saw did not seem right. “I don’t understand the lack of urgency. That business about the trains for example.”
“Secrecy is the Achilles heel of the government’s plan, in more ways than one Major,” Newton replied. “They can’t throw coal trains off the line and close down power stations without telling the public the truth about the asteroid. Likewise with relocating the residents. It took much longer than it should have because it couldn’t be done openly.”
Lopez wondered if Newton was just seeing what he wanted to see, seeing only the facts that confirmed his pre-existing biases, or whether he had been right all along about the government’s plans. “But General Grimm was confident they’d get back on track,” she replied as much to reassure herself as to counter Newton’s argument. Regina Lopez had great faith in the military of which she had been a part all her adult life. She found it hard to accept that they could fail on such a critical program—and she did not want to think the place in the ark that Branston had promised her was worthless. It must be that she was missing something. What did she know about construction and logistics? She would not have been pleased if some self-important Major from the Corps of Engineers started critiquing her intelligence gathering techniques, so who was she to
pass judgment on them?
—o—
James Newton expected to be summoned to the White House eventually—once the President realized that Newton had been right to doubt the administration’s plan. He did not expect it to happen quite so soon. He knew Lopez was spying on him for Branston but he had been careful not to do anything to arouse suspicion. As far as Lopez was concerned he had merely been doing what he had been asked by the government to do. He was not worried about her telling Branston that he lacked confidence in the administration’s plan; Branston already knew that. Therefore the explanation must be that things were going bad even faster than he had predicted.
“James, I’m sorry you had to travel here like a sack of potatoes in the back of a military cargo plane.”
“Think nothing of it Mr. President,” he replied. His private jet had been grounded by the oil shortage. “We all have to do our bit in these difficult times.” It had certainly been an interesting experience. He was all for interesting experiences, but it was one he would have to repeat on his way home. He was fairly sure he would be well and truly over the novelty by the time he got back to Denver.
“Indeed we do,” the President agreed. “Well James I hate to say it, but it looks like you have been a prophet without honor in his own time.”
“I take no pleasure at all in being right about this Mr. President,” Newton responded humbly. He meant it, but he still wished they had listened to him earlier. He might have helped them save more people.
“At least the food riots finally seem to have stopped, which is a small consolation after we’ve killed thousands of our own people, not to mention tens of thousands of Mexicans trying to cross the border in the misguided belief that somehow they will be safer from the asteroid in the United States. Thank God the Canadians are doing a decent job of keeping their border closed. I’m sure the motivation is to keep us away from their wheat surplus, but at least we don’t have to worry about Canadians coming south thinking that it’s somehow going to be warmer here. You’ve got to be grateful for small mercies.”