by Scott Bly
Molina was just behind on foot. But the truck’s dust cloud cut off his view.
Charlie leaped with all his strength. He heaved himself forward, and his legs cleared the opening. The metal door closed halfway, and the dumbwaiter inched upward.
Molina was furious. The kid’s feet were disappearing behind the metal door! He dove. His shoulder rammed into the brick wall, but he had the kid’s foot.
Pain shot up Charlie’s leg. He flipped over. One of the security guys had him. Charlie grabbed the dumbwaiter rope for leverage and pulled up. With the sudden strength of pure rage, Charlie kicked his free heel straight down, rodeo style.
Molina’s head snapped back. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.
Garcia saw it in slow motion. He hoped Molina’s neck wasn’t broken.
The metal door clanged shut. By the time Garcia wrenched it open, the kid had raised the dumbwaiter just out of reach.
Garcia leaned in and grabbed the rope. The dumbwaiter stopped. After a few seconds’ tug-of-war, the box suddenly reversed. Screek! Down it came — fast. Garcia dove back, barely making it out alive. The kid tried to crush me!
Now the dumbwaiter cranked back up. Garcia looked over at Molina. He was stretched out on the pavement, moaning but alive. Unbelievably, the kid had managed to escape again.
Charlie wedged a bench into the open dumbwaiter. The security goons could pull all day, and it wouldn’t get them anywhere.
Then the spiders started crawling in the open window. Charlie closed it tight and scrambled after them, crushing each one with a paint can. Callaya pounced and bit a bug’s head off, but the electrical shock made her yelp.
Charlie rinsed himself off, changed clothes, and washed Callaya. Then he collapsed against the wall. If only he and his puppy could slip away. Foxx could have his mind-control virus and run the world.
But Foxx had Geneva. And he would not get away with murder again.
Charlie had work to do. The Future was his own family’s hideous creation. It was his responsibility to destroy it.
Big words, but now what? Charlie was trapped, surrounded, and alone.
* * *
“Garcia, do you have the target?”
“That’s a negative, sir. He’s inside. Guards are covering the exits.”
McCallum hovered overhead in Blue Bird. This was the very neighborhood where he had flown Foxx.
* * *
Charlie hugged his knees. The helicopter grew louder, then faded away. A voice boomed, “Come out! You’re surrounded!”
What will happen when they take me? They wouldn’t kill him. They were working too hard to catch him.
By now, Geneva was no doubt dead. Did Foxx know she’d inserted a code into The Future? And did he know she’d sent Charlie that code? What would it do?
What would it do?
His mind snapped to attention. Her code was still on the broken cell phone, and he had the Code Analyzer!
Shutting out all the banging and shouting, Charlie connected the phone to the analyzer and launched the sequence.
The analyzer was able to pull Geneva’s codes directly out of the memory chips. Charlie had learned a lot about computers. But when the Code Analyzer told him he was looking at a Nested Port/Time-Variable, Spread Spectrum Firewall Exploit, it didn’t mean a thing to him — it was too advanced. Same with the code Geneva inserted into The Future.
The last piece of code was an excerpt from The Future — the code that closely matched that of Geneva and Callaya.
Two minutes of translation later he understood. Part of the code converted three different types of energy into Hum energy — electrical, potential, spiritual. Geneva’s code referenced electrical energy to be able to time travel. Callaya’s code referenced potential energy, which made sense because she was a catalyst. And The Future referenced spiritual energy. Spiritual energy? Belief itself? Life force? That sounded insane. Charlie was completely confused. What would Foxx do with that?
* * *
The sensor bots couldn’t actually see him. But infrared readouts showed Charlie through the walls.
“Let’s see,” McCallum growled.
Garcia spun out an image of the building. “He’s been sitting right there, but now he’s moving.” Garcia pointed out a red and yellow rectangle. “There must be a powerful piece of hardware in there.”
“Watch him. And let me know when demolition gets here. We’re going in.”
* * *
Charlie set Callaya in his lap and closed his eyes. He hummed the notes he used to do his homework back home. The music gave him an edge, especially when he studied math. Maybe it would help here.
It did.
Geneva had opened a back door to Foxx’s network that was very difficult to detect. Charlie didn’t know how to take advantage of it — with or without the Hum.
Brainstorming time. What could he put in the back door? Geneva had taught him about computer viruses; The Future code was a virus. But Charlie couldn’t write one. Once upon a time, viruses spread through email. Then viruses were replaced by stuff that was even worse — worms, Trojans, spyware, root kits, malware.
Boom! Boom! The military types were on the roof now.
What could Charlie do? Now that he had Pandora’s Box, was there a way to get it into TerraThinc? A back door couldn’t get it in there, could it?
Wait.
What if the back door could get him inside with the box?
He had once transmogrified a pebble into a flower. He wished he could just turn himself into a bird and fly off. He couldn’t do that, but he did know how to translate the Hum code and DNA code. It was an insanely difficult idea, but could he transmogrify himself into the computer? The Future code was based on DNA, which defined a person or an animal, so why couldn’t he transmogrify himself into a code — The Charlie Code? He could send himself into that back door if he were a code, couldn’t he?
Except … he had no idea how to do that.
But Callaya would help. As Grandfather pointed out, Callaya was a catalyst. She’d enhance any connection he made with the Hum. The Hum required belief — so if he believed, could he send himself into that back door?
Maybe he’d fail and get caught.
Maybe it would work.
Above him, plaster dust began snowing down from the ceiling. Somebody was drilling up there. Time was running out.
Maybe it would get him out of this building, where he was surrounded. That alone made it worth a try.
Did he have a better idea? No.
* * *
First, he needed to be sure he could actually get in there. He put the Code Analyzer into Security mode. Geneva had already set it up, so Charlie just hit the button. The TerraThinc IP6 addresses appeared. The system scanned everything, but each scan returned nothing. The entire building had been locked down.
Only the most critical information got through. A handful of websites and email addresses worked. [email protected] was accepting email. That must be Foxx’s new address. The old ones didn’t work.
What if he emailed himself to Foxx? Email could go through. He could transmogrify into digital information — into energy — and email himself to Foxx! It was wild, but it wasn’t impossible. When Foxx opened the email, Charlie would turn back into himself, trap Foxx in Pandora’s Box, and save the day! Simple!
Ha! Simple. Right. There was nothing simple about it.
Next: How to transmogrify? Only a true master could transform out of his body. Grandfather could do it. He once turned into a wolf and chased a prowler up a tree. But that was Grandfather. Still, Charlie had Callaya. She’d worked wonders so far.
Charlie wanted to change into an email — a code. His DNA identified him. Turn his DNA code into digital code. Convert his physical self into intangible information — into energy.
This was his craziest idea yet.
But it was the Hum, not engineering.
He thought of Grandfather’s mathematical proofs. The Hum is a rela
tionship between matter and energy, and I am able to manipulate the Hum, therefore I am able to manipulate energy, therefore I can turn matter into energy.
This will never work.
Intention and belief, he reminded himself. His hands were already shaking.
Callaya would sit in his lap with the box, and then they’d be … digital. But where would they go? We’ll go into the computer. He connected it to the Code Analyzer.
Another problem was size: DNA was a very long molecule. Stretched out, a single molecule would be three feet long. But every cell’s DNA twisted on itself until it crammed into the cell nucleus.
Charlie needed to turn all of himself into digital information. He couldn’t miss a single part. That would be a lot of information — would he fit into the computer, into an email?
It was the Hum, not engineering.
He didn’t need to understand. He needed to believe. The Hum could compress more powerfully than anything a computer scientist could develop.
Intention and belief, intention and belief.
Once he had gone digital and had made it into the computer, he’d need to get to Foxx. Charlie Email would have to get past firewalls and antivirus protection, but most important, Foxx would have to open it. If Foxx didn’t open the email, then there was no point. Charlie could end up stuck forever. Gulp.
But Geneva had risked her life. So had Charlie’s mother. He took a deep breath and began to type the email that would propel him into Foxx’s network.
These days, it took a revolutionary approach to get through powerful computer defenses. Foxx was counting on it: Security software wouldn’t expect The Future virus. By the same token, Foxx’s defenses wouldn’t expect a Charlie Code. Intention and belief, intention and belief.
Next up: How to get Foxx to open the email. Would he even notice it? Then would he open it? Would he open the Charlie Code attachment?
Virus writers tricked people into opening viruses by making them sound fun. “Click here for the coolest game ever!” Careful people knew not to open unexpected attachments. Gramercy Foxx was very, very careful. Charlie needed to outfox Foxx.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Callis, I Know You’re Trying to Find Me
BODY: I know who you are, Callis. I know where you’re from. And I know WHEN you’re from. Time traveler.
Here’s something your sister knew about the Hum. Read it before you release The Future.
SIGNED: The Boy Who Has Escaped You
ATTACHMENT: What You Don’t Know
Between Geneva’s email address and Charlie’s taunt, Foxx would open it for sure. No one else could know he was from the past. And how many people knew about the Hum? It would work. It had to.
Intention and belief. Believe, believe, believe.
* * *
Charlie hadn’t noticed the two tiny cameras in the ceiling that had slid in through a pair of fresh holes. They were hair-thin fiber-optic cameras that could drill with laser light as easily as they could take in the room’s light to capture video.
The cameras delivered a decent 3D image. The boy had electronic contraptions spread out on a table. The puppy was on his lap.
“What’s he up to?” McCallum wondered. “What’s in that wooden box?”
“Food?” Garcia guessed, twisting the image to zoom, pan, and tilt.
“It’s more important than that. Watch him,” McCallum ordered. “Keep me posted. What’s the holdup with the demolition team?”
“Traffic, sir. It ain’t easy to get into downtown today.”
“Figures,” McCallum grunted. Traffic was bad already, but The Future had generated a mania he’d never seen before. “Let me know when they arrive.”
* * *
Foxx’s wireless earpiece chimed.
“We have video.”
“Send me the link,” Foxx snapped.
“You already have it, sir.”
Foxx pulled his pen phone out of his pocket, unrolling the screen. He opened the link. The boy was hunched over a table, pulling wires on some contraption.
“We cut power to the building and it had no effect. They must be powered by the city mains. So we’re waiting on demo, sir.”
“There’s no time.” Foxx dropped the line. He spun to the table where Geneva had been strapped for a day and a half. He shoved the screen at her.
Geneva’s eyes were dim. Her breathing was shallow. Foxx didn’t care. “Tell me what the boy is doing, and I’ll let him live.”
Geneva could barely focus. Charlie was at the Code Analyzer with the dog and … something else. “He’s … he’s … in a room.”
“That’s right,” Foxx soothed. “What is he doing? Tell me. I can stop the pain.”
She didn’t know. But she couldn’t let Foxx see that. She had to keep him guessing. She opened her mouth as though she would spill her guts. Then she closed her mouth again and glared. Hopefully Foxx would take the bait.
“Tell me, you stupid, stupid girl, or the boy will feel such pain he will wish to die to end it!” Geneva gave no reaction whatsoever. Foxx pressed the button on his earpiece. “Bring the boy to me. Dead or alive — it makes no difference.”
* * *
McCallum surveyed the scene. Red Team perimeter was one block out, and LAanges Police blockaded at two. No one in or out. Sensor bots swarmed the building, even in the sewer lines. The kid couldn’t possibly get away.
Five hours until The Future was released. They could wait on demo for ten minutes. He had tactical command. But he cringed at the thought of disobeying his master.
Master? Something was very wrong. His head spun.
When McCallum doubled over, Garcia dashed up and pulled him to his feet. McCallum was dead weight — he dropped to his knees and vomited.
“Boss, you all right?” Garcia asked. “You’ve been a little … off the last few days.”
“Where’s the demo team?” McCallum asked, wiping his face with the back of his arm. He steadied himself on Garcia’s shoulder.
“Still a few minutes out. Are you OK, sir?”
“Yeah, yeah.” McCallum shook his head — too slowly. Things were getting weirder by the second. He felt drunk. But he hadn’t touched a drop in four years.
McCallum craned back to look up at the helicopter, and that was it. His eyes rolled up, and his knees buckled.
* * *
Charlie ignored the voice outside. He was busy. He clipped two leads from the analyzer to his pinkies, two more to his big toes. It just seemed right. He had to go with his instincts.
Breathing correctly, he focused his mind. His feet tingled. The Hum was flowing, all right. Callaya made all the difference.
Delicate music floated in his head. He stayed out of the way — let the Hum do the work. He calmly listened as it softly poured out of him.
Callaya’s head cocked to one side as she listened, too — the subtle sound of the Hum stream grew stronger and stronger.
* * *
“Sir?”
A blurry haze — someone’s face was too close to McCallum’s. He pushed Garcia away.
“Demo team?” he asked groggily.
“The building’s wired, sir. The teams are ready. Thirty-second countdown.” Garcia was looking at him with … ugh, pity.
“This is McCallum, resuming command. Status report.” Fifteen seconds and counting.
Why had he collapsed? It was a privilege to serve a great man like Gramercy Foxx.
Foxx, a great man? He didn’t remember feeling that way before. He seemed to recall wanting to resign. Ugh. The dizziness returned.
“Three, two, one …” came the countdown.
“All teams are go.”
* * *
Charlie and Callaya worked together effortlessly. Charlie called the Hum, and Callaya increased the stream. The more Hum power came, the more they drew. The stream became a flood. Callaya was physically separate, but within the Hum, the boy and the dog mel
ted together as one.
Transmogrify. It changed the very nature of matter — from a beetle to a mouse, a frog to an eagle. It made no difference — matter simply changed from one state to another. Now Charlie wanted to turn from a human — matter — into information — energy.
Albert Einstein determined the relationship of matter to energy. E=MC2. A little bit of mass equaled an unbelievably huge amount of energy.
But this was the Hum.
It swirled around Charlie, breaking his body down, DNA strand by DNA strand, atom by atom. He and Callaya and the box were being converted into energy, into information itself.
* * *
Outside, everything went wrong.
First, seconds after the demo team leader pressed the detonation button, there should have been only a gaping hole in the side of the building. The outside wall of the hideout should have disintegrated in a brief plume of smoke.
Second, the Red Team should have poured in — men from the roof; jet bikes from the alley; and a stun cannon set to deliver a knockout electrical shock.
That was what should have happened. But it all relied on electricity. Charlie’s use of the Hum had already energized and ionized the room. Outside, the electrical equipment would be unstable.
The electrical relays in the explosives fired imprecisely. The wall didn’t shatter or pulverize. It splintered. The Hum field in the room repelled the debris and blew the wall out. It pummeled everyone on the ground as if a bomb had hit. Dozens would go to the hospital.
The cannon backfired, stunning the operator.
Fortunately the fuel tanks in the jet bikes didn’t explode, or everyone on the roof would have been killed.
McCallum looked at his covert video screen. The boy was still sitting there with the puppy in his lap. He hadn’t moved a muscle despite the explosion.
What in the world was going on? Then it got even more impossible.
Before John’s eyes, the boy and the puppy began to disappear. Was it the video? The rest of the image stayed intact. No, it wasn’t the video.
He couldn’t give an order to move in. No one could move. Garcia was down.