by Scott Bly
* * *
Above him, Geneva smiled. She had been right about Charlie. Time was running out, but at least they had a chance. There was so much to tell the human. She would wait for the right moment to let him know the truth.
Gramercy Foxx had no difficulty attracting all twelve of the most influential businesspeople in the world for his meeting. They stood, transfixed by the codes and images on the wall-size displays.
“I’m so glad you could be here to share this moment.” Foxx spoke from behind. “I’ve chosen to call my newest offering ‘The Future.’ I want to share it first with you, my most trusted associates — the inner circle. As always, you are sworn to secrecy.”
“We knew you were working on something big, Foxx, but this is amazing!” James Cricket, CEO of Global Oil, shook his head. “That is, if it really does what you suggest. How can a product truly provide serenity and peace of mind?”
“You doubted his hologram devices, though, didn’t you, James? And they worked out.” Terrence Wrightwood was the leader of early cloud and solarium Internet systems. Now ninety-seven, he needed an oxygen cell to breathe. “Gramercy, I’m sure it will be your finest work yet.”
“I agree, and Time Man is my favorite 3D show.” Janice Wong beamed at Foxx. “The Future will accomplish more for society than the automobile! This makes InterNext look simplistic.” Janice Wong wrote the code that brought InterNext connectivity to every piece of electrical equipment imaginable. In one move, you could update your calendar, set the alarm clock, program a Smart Coffeepot, and adjust your Smart Lights to dim for bedtime. “We’ll have to prepare for this, Foxx. Change of this nature must be evolutionary, not revolutionary.”
“You’ll have time,” Foxx assured them, “while the TerraThinc marketing machine gets rolling.”
“We’ll need to get our products ready to compete with yours!” Dick Crawford joked. Crawford’s orbiting weapons systems could vaporize a single person or an entire city block anywhere in the world — in less than a minute. “When will you reveal it?”
“I will announce the date tomorrow.”
“No! We have to know now, Gramercy,” Tom Dennis said. He was the man who engineered the deregulation of banks and mergers that had led to a worldwide economic collapse. Everyone in the room had raked in record profits.
“Come now,” Foxx cooed, almost musically. “Isn’t it enough to be the first to see my technology? And I do promise it will change the world as we know it.”
“You gained your success with our collective blessing.” The warmth was gone from Wrightwood’s voice.
“Let’s not bicker over details.” Foxx ignored Wrightwood’s threat.
“We opened the door for you,” Crawford growled. “Tom’s right. We need to know more now. Don’t even think about crossing us.”
Foxx suppressed a smile. He was about to cross all of them.
“Friends! Enough bickering! You haven’t seen the best part. How about a sample? Prepare to become more relaxed than you have ever been before. Watch the screens, watch the screens.”
All twelve men and women turned to view the last images their free minds would ever see.
* * *
Two hundred stories above ground, Charles was watching. His hand slipped, and he struggled to pull himself up. How did I end up here? I’m no hero! The wind made his eyes burn.
The people and the screens’ images were not what caught Charles’s attention, however. He was relieved to feel the familiar — and surprisingly strong — tingle of the Hum. So powerful here! He hadn’t felt a trace of it anywhere else. He could even see its telltale glow, though no one else would. Geneva was right about Gramercy Foxx.
* * *
Foxx’s guests didn’t hear him softly begin his fragile chant to tap into the deep, endless power of the Hum. They didn’t see his hands dancing to the peculiar rhythms.
The wall of screens flashed, but Foxx had refined his technique since he’d tested it on Yates; his confidence had grown. Now his plan would progress to its next crucial step.
Six minutes passed, and he was finished.
Outside, on the ladder, Charles sat perfectly still.
The room fell silent. The screens dimmed. In a hushed yet commanding voice, Foxx asked, “Who is your master?”
The twelve answered in perfect unison. “Our master is Callis. You are our master.”
“I am.” Foxx leered at the eldest. “Wrightwood, come.”
Terrence Wrightwood stood stiffly. His knees wobbled. He took a few unsteady steps. His eyes were lifeless.
“Terrence Wrightwood, who is your master?” Foxx demanded.
“My master is Callis. You are my master.”
“And you will obey my command.”
“Yes.”
“Terrence Wrightwood, you will fall into a coma. You are to never wake up. You will not die now. You will live an unnaturally long life. You will die only when I allow it. You will wait forever if I choose.”
“As you command.”
“Do it now.”
* * *
Perched on the invisible ladder, Charles watched a terrible glow pour out of Foxx.
The brittle, old man collapsed.
The strength of the Hum was unmistakable. Every bone in Charles’s body tingled.
* * *
Gramercy Foxx came over to the window. He gazed out. Something was amiss. A strange flicker interrupted the flow of his power. What was it? His past, resurfacing to haunt him?
No. He refused to allow unpleasant memories to spoil his satisfaction. Not tonight.
He smiled, contemplating his next move as he turned back to his guests. The virus had been a success. Everything was in place.
* * *
Foxx had been inches away from Charles, but Geneva’s invisible ladder worked perfectly. A twisted, corrupted abomination of the Hum was coursing through the ageless man. The encounter was making Charles sick. First, his hands went numb, and then …
Slam! Charles’s foot slipped through the rungs. His knee knocked into the glass window of Foxx’s office.
* * *
Gramercy Foxx spun at the sound. What was that thump?
He looked at the window but saw nothing unusual. Another stupid bird, slamming into the glass. He turned abruptly and returned to his guests.
None of the other eleven leaders of industry had blinked an eye when Terrence Wrightwood fell to the floor.
“Who is your master?” Foxx asked again.
“Our master is Callis. You are our master.”
“Now you will return to consciousness and help Mr. Wrightwood.” Foxx raised his hands.
Clap!
“Wrightwood!” the others shouted, and rushed to him.
Foxx pressed the intercom on his desk.
“Evelyn, call an ambulance! There’s been an accident!” His voice sounded urgent, almost as if he cared.
* * *
Charles, nearly hypnotized by Foxx, was losing consciousness. Fast as lightning, Geneva darted down the ladder. She flipped her feet toward the sky and caught him, defying gravity as casually as if she were standing right-side up on solid ground. The skin of her fingers and toes rippled into millions of microscopic hooks, each entangling the electrical fields of the molecules of Charles’s skin and the ladder.
Charles shook off the numb feeling. “How did you do that? You moved so fast!”
“Gecko mode. But forget about me. What did you see?” She lifted Charles up onto the roof.
“You were right. It was the Hum!” he choked out. “I could feel it!”
The sickness in the pit of his stomach hit him again. “I … I … I think I recognize him. But from where?”
When Charles woke up the next morning, he was in a small, dingy room on the 2nd floor of an abandoned building. He was lying on a couch, but he did not remember how he got there.
Now he looked curiously around the small room.
“Someone sealed this place up years ago,” Geneva tol
d him. “They forgot about the dumbwaiter to the alley. It’s a secret way to get in and out. You were so tired last night I carried you all the way here. We’re a couple of miles from the TerraThinc Building. This is my hideout.” She touched a screen, and a news report flashed on. “See, we’re streaming media….”
On the screen, a woman spoke beside a crush of people. “We’re live from City Hospital, where Gramercy Foxx’s emergency press conference is under way. Mr. Foxx has announced his new creation: ‘The Future.’ ”
“Who is she?” Charles asked.
“Jane Virtue. She’s the only honest reporter in town. Shhhhh.”
Gramercy Foxx addressed a throng of men and women from the press. “My dear friend Terrence Wrightwood believed The Future would bring us all together. Help me make his dream come true. In twenty days, I will release The Future to everyone, everywhere. Imagine finally having peace of mind! And I promise the world will never, ever be the same.”
Geneva turned off the news feed, disgusted. “Twenty days,” she said. “Twenty days to figure out how to stop him.”
“Last night he hypnotized all those people. Is that The Future he’s talking about?”
“It has to be. He’s marketing it as if it can make your life perfect! But he’s taking away free will. When people look into a computer screen, the system infects them like a virus.”
“Does everyone look into computer screens?”
“Yes! Everybody!” Geneva snapped. Then she caught herself. “Right. This is all new to you. I’m sorry. Computers are everywhere — phones, TVs, on toilets! Computers can catch viruses — sicknesses — but until now, a computer can’t make a person sick. That’s the creepiest thing about it, Charlie. Somehow he’s mixing a computer virus with a biological virus so a person can catch it from a computer, or from another person. It’s going to spread like wildfire.”
“Will it spread from the old people who got it last night?”
“I don’t think so. He doesn’t seem to be finished yet. He’s adding the infectious part to the final code.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve been spying on him.”
“Aren’t other people spying on him, too?”
“I can spy on him in ways nobody else can. I have abilities — my sight, my hearing, my technology — that are beyond human.”
“What does that mean?”
“I wanted to wait to tell you, but you need to know now.”
“Tell me what?”
“About who I am. I look like a girl, but I’m not human, Charlie. I have human parts, but I’m a robot.”
“What is a robot?”
“I wasn’t born, I was built. I’m a machine — an advanced synthesis of biotech, nanotech, computer tech, and nuclear energy!” A strange light suddenly beamed from her eyes onto her palms. The skin of her hands vibrated, and the light reflected into the air above, creating moving holographic images that danced overhead.
“Wow! How do you do that? Can you teach me?”
“No. You’d have to be made of plasmonic processors, holographic storage, a particle accelerator, cyberhydronetics … things like that. I’m a robot.” Then her eyes went dark. “I’ve never told anyone before.”
Charles sat quietly for a moment and stared at her, completely confused. “What’s a robot?” he asked again. “You are some kind of angel, aren’t you?”
“Angel? No! I’m an invention! No different than a table or a carriage. I’m made of more metal than flesh and blood. Robots were invented to help people. I’m a machine that follows directions. I only seem human.”
She looked away. Was she ashamed? “You’re … an invention? An invention that looks like a real girl?”
Had that been a flicker of pain Charles had seen in her eyes?
“I didn’t want to tell you yet,” Geneva said. “What do I know about things like the Hum, or friendship, or happiness? I’m just a machine pretending to be a real person.”
She hates herself, Charlie thought. But she made it sound as if robots didn’t have feelings. He still didn’t understand what a robot was, but he knew Geneva was no normal girl. She’s better, he thought. She can do much more than I can. And what defined being a human, anyway? Who cares if she’s made of metal? She’s tough, but she’s kind. She does have feelings. And she’s trying to save the world!
Geneva wouldn’t look at him. She played with her fingers, flexing her skin into different shapes and textures.
Charlie — something you’d call a good friend, she had said. “You know,” he told her softly, “I think you’re amazing. Look at what you’ve done! And look at what you’re doing! If you’re a robot, then that’s what I want to be.”
“No you don’t.”
“I do.”
“Then you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She finally looked at him. He could see the faint beginning of a smile. “Thanks, Charlie.”
“I decided you can call me that.”
“Whatever,” she said with a grin. “Watch this, Charlie.” Then she rolled her eye beams around in different directions and made a light show on the ceiling.
“And you should know, it’s not math I love — it’s solving puzzles.”
“Perfect. Because Gramercy Foxx has given us quite a puzzle to solve.”
Gramercy Foxx had set an unstoppable machine into motion. A wild frenzy erupted across the globe. Every form of international media frantically guessed what The Future might be. Every crackpot inventor developed a spin-off of The Future … and no one even knew what it was.
Foxx was ecstatic. Humans were driven to consume, and they followed directions. Especially the trendsetters in LAanges. Even after the worldwide economic collapse, they continued to set the pace for the rest of the planet. Other countries despised their excess and greed, but people all over the globe still hungered for more, more, more.
Stuff. They wanted more stuff.
For years Foxx had been ratcheting up the public’s need to have ever-increasing collections of products. He had diverted the public’s attention from truly important events and slowly turned news into entertainment. Money poured in. Eventually even entertainment news was pushed out by worse and worse mindless dreck. Foxx hadn’t come up with the idea. He’d just perfected it.
Now the same techniques were selling The Future. Drive them crazy with desire, and they would stampede to the feeding troughs.
Let them come.
Over the next six days, Foxx made calls, sent emails, and deployed automated software that wrote blog postings under pseudonyms. The Future was coming, and it was the biggest thing ever released in the world. With no idea what it might be, people read everything and watched everything — all for a glimpse of what The Future might hold.
Through it all, Foxx kept every shred of it a secret. Some publications received “exclusive” information that The Future was a new generation of flying vehicles powered by hydrogen to eliminate traffic and pollution forever. Others learned from “a source close to Foxx” that The Future was a brain chip implant for pleasure and prosperity. And still others heard “off the record” that The Future was an energy source more abundant than water. Foxx’s personal favorite was when one of Foxx’s “top advisers” leaked that it was a time machine. Oh, the irony.
It all added up to a perfect storm of blitz advertising. And just wait until the real marketing campaign begins.
Meanwhile, at the hideout, Geneva gave Charlie a crash education on computers, science, and technology. She lectured tirelessly, hour after hour. Fortunately, Charlie was a sponge. She had never seen anyone learn so fast.
“OK, trivia time. Did you know that very early mathematicians used a counting board to —”
“I know all about that,” Charlie interrupted. He was tired, but math came easily. “I use an abacus for calculations. It’s fun. Did you know that some say the abacus was invented by the Babylonians, not the Chinese?”
“Sure, and the aba
cus led to the invention of the calculator and eventually the computer … but remember, we’re talking about language.”
“Do you know why numbers go to ten?” Charlie challenged. He was sure he would stump her with this one.
Geneva held up her hands, fingers spread wide.
“Ten fingers!” Charlie laughed. “You know everything!”
“Most civilizations counted to ten,” she corrected. “That’s called a base-ten number system — because each digit has ten possible numbers before you add another digit. But the Babylonians — they used a number system based on sixty.”
“Like your clock!”
“Exactly. The Babylonians developed timekeeping. Sixty seconds to a minute, sixty minutes to an hour.”
“Oooh, base-sixty, then, right?”
“Yeah. But let’s bring it back to Foxx. His code is numbers, and computers speak in numbers. Computers speak in a base-two number system called binary.”
“Which is why you gave me this binary abacus….”
“Correct. You have to learn the language. Math is a language of numbers.”
Charlie had never thought of math as a language. He liked the puzzles his grandfather gave him — number puzzles, logic puzzles, word puzzles, any puzzles. He would stay up all night to finish one. “You’ll need mathematics to survive in the world if the prophecy is true,” Grandfather always said. Blah, blah, blah. “One day, the Hum will disconnect, and the world will —”
Charlie stopped cold. The prophecy. The Hum will disconnect. Something about a leader and the whole world. And, and …
He couldn’t remember. A thunderstorm pounded outside. He listened to the rain and amped up his mind, trying to recall.
After all the times he had heard it, now when he needed it, the story was gone. Poof.
Geneva interrupted his thoughts. “I’m running low on power,” she said.
“What?”
“It’s going to take a while for my ultra-capacitors to recharge. There isn’t enough voltage from my long-term storage to charge them.”
“Voltage — that’s electrical … pressure, right?”