Gracie gave him a perplexing look.
“This tea is still so hot,” he diverged, and coughed clumsily. The ploy worked.
“Oh! Did you burn yourself?”
“I’m fine,” he swallowed, waving it off and smiling. Then he sat for a time, regarding her more intently than he intended.
“What is it?” she questioned, uncomfortable with his visual barrage.
Jimmy eased—he was catching his breath again—and smiled sentimentally. He set down his cup, went to her side and rested his hand gently on her arm. “Mother,” he began in a sickly sweet tone. “I’m sorry about things . . . about the last few years. I’ve been awful, I know.”
Gracie reached and put her hand on his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I let the stress get to me, and I have been especially cruel to you. Please forgive me.”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she let her head rest affectionately against his arm. She closed her eyes and basked in this exceptional moment. Jimmy’s rare discourse fell upon her ears like a balm to her aching heart, and how beautiful, she contemplated, was the sound of each word.
“It has taken a lifetime of sacrifice, and of hard work,” he went on. “There has been no remuneration, no outward support, no accolades for our accomplishments; yet we trudged on in secret, with only our hope, in HOPE. Now she is ready, and what a wonder she is.”
“Yes, HOPE is that and more,” Gracie whispered. She gave his arm a proud squeeze, then sighed, longingly. “I just wish I could be there to witness her rise into that brilliant blue sky. To see her fiery tail as she climbs to her orbital perch, above the world, where she will guard for a millennia.”
Jimmy grew a clever grin. There it is at last, he mentally imbued. The words I need to hear. He patted her shoulder and smiled at her warmly, a truly genuine smile, right from the heart . . . a heart of stone. It had taken all the cloying mush he could handle, but it had worked, his mother bit, and now he just needed to set the hook and reel her in.
“Then why don’t you, mother,” he asked “Come to the Cape with me and see the liftoff.”
Gracie opened her eyes and gave him an odd glare.
“That is, if you’re being serious,” he added.
“What are you saying?” she questioned.
Jimmy sighed a hopeful, long breath. “The launch is making history, mother, and everybody at NASA knows it; we couldn’t keep that a secret. The new Reitman engines are a technological breakthrough. There will be plenty of media, and NASA is taking full advantage of this ballyhoo by rolling out the red carpet for our engineers—the whole Reitman team. They are even hosting a pre-liftoff gala.”
Gracie’s eyes widened, and her uncertainties increased.
“I know how much you hate the public eye,” he said, “but we can keep the cameras at bay. I promise.”
“Oh, I don’t know Jimmy,” Gracie said, shaking her head fearfully. “Florida is so far away, I haven’t been outside Sandcastle—”
“Please mom,” he supplicated, kissing her head and stroking her arm. “I don’t care about NASA, nor the pomp and circumstance of the entire ordeal. The truth is, I just want you to be there with me. This launch has great significance for us both. It is HOPE’s finale. And I know that dad would want us to be together to witness it.”
And there it was. Jimmy’s final card played masterfully. His coup de grace coming in a simple statement: dad would want us to be together. And the hook was set.
Gracie’s eyes riddled him with hesitation, but she finally smiled and nodded hesitantly. “Very well. If it means that much to you.”
He hugged her tenderly. “It does,” he whispered. “It will be wonderful, you’ll see.” Then he jumped up and uncharacteristically clowned with her; whirling her chair around in circles and laughing, like he once did as a young boy.
“My goodness!” she chuckled, happily. “I forgot to buckle up!”
He steered her next to one of the tables—the only one in the room with high enough legs to accommodate her wheelchair. “I have a surprise for you,” he said mischievously. “Look there on the table, next to the centerpiece,” he pointed.
Gracie followed the direction of his finger, her eyes full of youthful anticipation. She quickly discovered what he was gesturing at. There, sitting quite lonely on the large, cherry-wood surface, was an envelope.
“Open it” he urged.
She eyed him curiously, then grinned. “What are you up to, Jimmy Reitman?” Gracie carefully lifted the envelope and eased the fold open. She reached inside and pulled out two tickets. She gasped in delight as she read the fancy bold lettering: Puccini’s Madame Butterfly. “Oh Jimmy!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.
“I hope I didn’t act impulsively,” he said, kneeling at her side. “For years now, I’ve wanted to take you to an opera, to help make up for all the time I’ve been away and for neglecting you so completely. It just so happens that your favorite opera, Puccini’s Madame Butterfly, is playing tomorrow night at the Ziff Opera House in Miami. It really isn’t that far from the launch site. We could have one of the Reitman helicopters shuttle us—or limo it—depending on the time. The production has been sold out for months, but I managed to pull some strings. These tickets are front row seats,” he tantalized, tapping lightly on the print. “We could watch the launch together, then head-off directly for the Ziff Opera House. What do you say?”
And what could she say? Gracie so loved the opera. And to go with her son? And just the two of them? Now that was a rare event indeed, and sweetened the deal a hundred fold. “Oh Jimmy,” she beamed, “I would love that! Thank you, son.”
“Wonderful!” he cried, jumping to his feet. “I’ll have our newest jet prepped and ready to fly to Cape Canaveral first thing in the morning.” Then he hugged her one more time. “Mother,” he said, taking hold of her hand. “I’m going to make sure this trip is one you’ll never forget . . . I promise.” And he meant every heartless, deceitful word.
--
Jimmy’s introduction with Jessie and Sam was as brief as it was impersonal . . . Jimmy just didn’t do adolescence, but at least he was cordial—anything to keep that sickening smile pasted on his mother’s face. Soon, however—and much to the relief of Jessie and Sam—Jimmy apologized, explaining that he had, another meeting to attend to, then made a hasty exit.
Gracie had already been privy to Jimmy’s agenda, and knew about his meeting with the Four. She completely understood and excused him graciously.
The kids stayed and visited for a little longer. Sam—anxious as he was to get back to his room and out of his suit—made the mistake of asking about a particularly large framed painting ablaze in track lighting and centered noticeably on one of the high walls. It was a superb portrait of Gracie and Zen in their younger days. For Gracie, the boy’s interest was like jump-starting a dead battery. She loved to show off her family, and chat about her history. She came alive, and was soon well into it. It didn’t take long, however, for Sam to regret ever opening his mouth.
--
As Jimmy had so proficiently announced, his meeting with the Four was scheduled in the MCC (Main Control Center), which was located between the Avalon dome and the CTH (Central Terminal Hub). The meeting went as expected—he firmed up launch schedules and verified all test data between the underground station and feeds from both satellites. He also reviewed the status of all critical support systems and confirmed their diagnostics and availability for immediate activation. Jimmy conveyed his schedules, received his updates, synchronized timetables—all this and more—without so much as a word of gratitude, appreciation, or any type of accolades to the rest of the group. But then again, none of the Four expected any praise, Jimmy complimented no one. Instead, he drew a sarcastic tongue at every opportunity and criticized anything which he felt was not exactly to his satisfaction.
It came as a surprise then, when mid-meeting—normally to have lasted hours—Jimmy suddenly announced that he was cutting th
e meeting short, and abruptly ended the gathering. This was something he had never done before. In fact, there was a hint of superficiality and a rushed sense from the moment the meeting began. The Four not only sensed it, but perceptually noted among themselves, an edge of uneasiness in the man.
Jimmy was as meticulous an individual as there was. He dotted every i, crossed every t. Yet this uncharacteristic, restlessness exhibition was a careless, unfamiliar presence. But shortly thereafter, when he announced that he was . . . extremely anxious to begin my personal inspection of MU1, his unusual manner became less cryptic. It did make sense. The area had become more critical as the launch date approached—this much was understood. With the liftoff less than 24 hours away, there was no room for error, and Jimmy knew it. The station would get his famous white-glove treatment, as Jacob had facetiously worded it.
The Four had already checked and rechecked every facet of the structure—everything from data conduits and energy cells to subsystems and circuitry. They had even run full diagnostics on the defense algorithms and the autonomous routines of the robotic drones, the very crew of androids which would occupy the underground station and facilitate the satellite orbiters for an age.
Everything was perfect. But of course, Jimmy would need to determine this for himself. He opted, as usual, to go on his investigative tour alone. He never invited anyone to accompany him when traversing the underground complex. It was as if he couldn’t function, couldn’t complete his task if he had to be distracted by the decency of conversation. So he went alone, always, or at least no other human presence accompanied him. However, there were rules about working in the underground grid alone. Rules that even Jimmy Reitman was expected to obey . . . that is if he expected others to obey them, and he did.
Eli called out to him just as he was heading out toward the terminal hub. “Don’t forget your escort.”
Jimmy halted like a pin to a magnet. He turned, and tried to deflect his seething, but it was visually obvious. His face reddened and the veins in his neck distended like old tree roots in shallow earth.
Eli loved it.
“Right,” Jimmy replied though a taut jaw. He motioned to one of the sentinel droids standing at its assigned post, nearby.
“You’re with me,” he ordered.
The mechanical humanoid—having previously scanned all DNA signatures in the room—instantly recognized Jimmy’s authorization and temporarily overrode its apportioned task. It quickly obeyed and moved dutifully to his side. Behind the intricate mechanisms of the defense network hive, other sentinel droids had been promptly notified of the change, and had adjusted their assigned posts to compensate until a replacement droid—already dispatched—could arrive.
Jimmy, and his obsequious escort, vanished through the exit.
The rest of the team just stood there, gazing at the closed doors for a moment, half expecting the droid to come bounding back into the room displaying a bold middle finger: a message from Jimmy. But no one came back through.
Finally, Eli snickered—which he didn’t often do. “I could just feel his hands wrapping themselves around my throat.” He loved seeing Jimmy seethe.
Ellen sighed, sneered, and shook her head. “You would think Mr. Supreme Commander would remember that fundamental rule,” she said. “It was one of the first rules which his father initiated.”
“He remembers it perfectly,” stated Ruthanne. “He just does not think it should apply to him.”
They all agreed.
“Well,” said Ellen, shifting the subject. “I’m going back topside and help Gracie pack. I want to have a chat with her and make certain that this little sojourn to Florida is what she really wants. I have a feeling that there is more coercion than cooperation in this trip.”
“A very wise statement,” Ruthanne agreed. “I will accompany you.”
Eli also nodded. “I think that’s a sound idea. I’m concerned as well. Gracie has only been outside the Sandcastle perimeter a few times in the last ten years, and that was a chauffeured jaunt to town and back. Now Jimmy’s got her up and bolting with him to Florida. This seems very careless, even given the pomp and ceremony NASA has planned. I don’t much like it.”
“You just leave it to us, brother,” winked Ellen. “Ruthanne and I will consider this a covert mission. We’ll get all the nitty-gritty on the situation right from the horse’s mouth.”
Ruthanne turned a question on her. “‘Horse’s mouth’? I do not understand what—”
“Oh for goodness sakes, Ruthy, it’s an aphorism!” Ellen took hold of her arm rather firmly, “come on.” The two of them headed toward the exit. But before they reached the door, they heard Eli’s voice as he spoke to Jacob.
“What’s the matter, Jake?”
It was the tone in her brother’s question which bowled Ellen around, causing her pause as she honed-in over her shoulder.
There was Jacob, transfixed on the terminal door, almost as if he still expected someone to come walking back through it. He was acting very strange. And now that Ellen thought about it, the boy had said very little during their bash session over Jimmy—something Jacob not only enjoyed, but usually instigated.
Jacob turned and looked confusedly at them. “He powered it down?”
“What?” came Eli.
“Jimmy turned off the escort droid,” the boy stated, oddly.
“How do you know?” Eli returned, growing uneasy.
“Well,” Jacob explained. “I tied into the droid’s UFI (Unique Frequency Identification) signal from my wristcom. Don’t ask me why—it’s not something I normally do,” he blinked curiously, “but I did. And I just intercepted the escort’s transmission to the rest of the hive. Code Epsilon-Phi-941.”
“An unauthorized shutdown?” spoke Ruthanne inquisitively.
“Yes,” whispered Jacob.
“Why would Jimmy do such a thing?” asked Ellen. “He would have to circumvent and override the droid’s voice-command directly—that is no small task.” Her face became an emotional mirror to Jacob’s.
“It is not just difficult,” added Ruthanne. “It is impossible. I wrote the logic for that model myself. The V-series does not support voice-command override for shutdown sequence. However, as Ellen has stated, a direct link-up to the system’s CPU could feasible rewrite its memory and force such a command, but only if the encryption codes have been compromised. To my knowledge, Jimmy does not have the skill, nor the knowledge, for such an action.” Her dark glasses swept across them in a worrisome span.
“Are you certain about your data, Jacob?” voiced Eli dubiously.
“Yes. Absolutely!” he defended. “That unit just went off line. I have confirmation from the other sentinel droids. They have reported losing contact with it and have queried for authorization to send in a replacement. I’m telling you, Jimmy has shut his escort down!”
The silence which followed empowered Jacob’s speculation, as each felt the sting of something amiss.
“It is unlikely that Jimmy knows his actions have been flagged,” allowed Ruthanne. “Perhaps we should wait and see if he reports the incident. There may still be a reasonable explanation.”
“He’s hiding something,” grumbled Ellen. “That’s the ‘reasonable explanation’. Jimmy knows the sentinel systems record all bio, visual and audio data while in proximity to their human attendee.” She turned a suspicious eye on Eli, then back to Ruthanne. “I know this is a heretical suggestion, but Ruthanne find out for certain. She could read Jimmy, just briefly and—”
Ruthanne whirled at Ellen in a gasp. She shook her head adamantly. “I cannot believe you would suggest such a violation of a cardinal rule! I absolutely refuse!”
Ellen sighed shamefully. “Sorry Ruthy. It was a bad proposition. I just don’t trust the man.”
“Neither do I, but that is beside the point,” Ruthanne reproached.
“Jacob. Where is Jimmy now?” Eli asked.
Jacob tapped several commands into his wristcom. “
He is where he said he would be. On route to MU1, the umbilical station.”
“Then I agree with Ruthanne. We wait and see if he reports anything unusual with the escort droid.”
“And if he doesn’t?” questioned Ellen.
“Then we do some prudent investigating,” Eli replied.
“That’s what has me worried,” mumbled Jacob.
“What do you mean?” Eli probed, the answer to his question already apparent as his stomach grew nauseous.
The boy returned a chilling gaze on his comrade. “I mean we might actually find something . . . something terrible.”
The air inside the control center felt unexpectedly cold.
--
Jimmy had, in fact, shut down his menacing attendant. But the deed was not a haphazard one. It was intentional . . . and he knew that the violation would be detected. Jimmy—his attempt at evading the escort having failed—had already taken tactical precautions for such a scenario. Miserable, painstaking precautions which had delayed his visit to the underground complex by days. How he had cursed that wretched rule, and scorned his father for implementing it!
Jimmy’s access to the Four’s clandestine materials on their artificial intelligence technology both enabled and empowered him. Just days prior, with the help of his military subordinates, and his government funded state-of-the-art laboratory, he had successfully hacked the V-series’ encryption codes. After that, developing the data transfer interface was a piece-of-cake. Jimmy’s reprogramming of the sentinel droid—the one he had called upon to parallel his movements in the underground complex—took only minutes, and was shockingly easy. But there was still risk. Jimmy knew the android would transmit its status. There was no way to disable this integrated collective-communication algorithm. But as before, he had taken preemptive measures.
Before bringing the mechanical escort back online, he would download an advanced packet of logic designed to corrupt the droid’s memory and precipitate a CPU crash. He could then claim that the escort had malfunctioned and gone offline of its own volition. The packet, once executed, would delete itself bit-by-bit, leaving no incriminating evidence of its parasitical actions. Even the most scrutinizing diagnostics could not disclose his tampering. It was a foolproof plan, aggressively tested at Mole Hole on other sentinel replicas. Jimmy was now confident enough to engage his traitorous task.
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