The guard took one look at the situation and said, “Of course they may enter. My apologies that I did not immediately recognize the Americans. Welcome, welcome!” he said as he quickly opened the gates allowing our procession of odd vehicles to enter and proceed to the warehouse without further incident. As promised, the locked door miraculously clicked open and we dismounted the powered rickshaws, bade our host many thanks and entered into the cavernous interior of the huge hanger.
“I found the control for the lights,” Sanci said. “There, they are on,” she continued as the overhead light came on, illuminating the dark interior. We immediately spied a small lounge located against one wall and when we entered we were glad to settle into the comfortable couches and chairs while we waited for the next milestone in our epic adventure.
The boxed lunches were brought out and we all dug in, grateful to Sanci for thinking about our stomachs before we left. I opened up my Surface and placed it on the table where all could see and hear Sanci. “The Gulfstream has left Hong Kong. ETA above Qincheng prison is a little over an hour from now. I sent a text to the pilot and he confirmed after the drop he will begin a racetrack pattern over the airport until I signal him to land. He told me that he has seen some private aircraft, some of them jets but that so far, he has seen no military aircraft.
As the pilot of the Gulfstream descended to thirty thousand feet, Bill Boyd and the rest of the Sea Lions checked each other’s gear in preparation for their HALO jump in the dark into the interior of Qincheng Prison. He chuckled to himself thinking that they looked more like deep sea divers or even astronauts than sky divers. Each was dressed in a skin tight electrically heated suit with a full helmet sporting a dark grey full face visor. The suits were black making them look like wetsuits and the helmets themselves had a dull black surface that wouldn’t reflect any stray light. Each carried a Heckler and Koch MP7 submachine gun strapped to their chests as well as a K-Bar knife in a sheath on their calf. Additionally, each one of them had a small but powerful Taser encased in a holster on their belt.
“Communications check,” Boyd said, hearing his own voice as it came over the communications system contained in his helmet.
“Lion One, ready to go, oxygen on.” he heard the first man in line say.
“Lion Two, ready to go, oxygen on.”
“Lion Three, good to go, oxygen on.”
“Lion Four, ready to go, oxygen on.”
Boyd verified that his oxygen was on and then he checked their position on his heads up display and said to the pilot. “Three minutes to drop point. Ready to reduce speed.” He immediately heard the sound of the jet’s powerful engines decrease and go almost silent. Next he heard the pilot advise him that he was depressurizing the cabin. Boyd waited a moment and then he pulled on the handle to open the exterior door of the plane. He ignored the raucous screech of an alarm warning him that he was about to depressurize the cabin and he pulled the handle to its stops. The door opened and the cabin was filled with a thunderous roar of wind that threatened to toss the men about. But they were prepared, each holding onto the man in front of him and ready to exit the aircraft. When his heads up display beeped at him, without hesitation Boyd jumped into the void. The effect was like being hit by a truck as his body was slammed by the force of the wind as he left the aircraft at just over 250 miles per hour.
It only took him a few seconds to get spread eagled in his free fall position and when he stabilized he activated his small red location light attached to the top of his helmet and then looked around for the others. In the dead of night, they were invisible in their black suits but he quickly located the others as their lights winked on. Within a few moments he verified that all five of them were falling together, close enough for comfort but separated enough for safety.
Boyd’s attention switched to his heads up display where he could see his altimeter as it counted down the altitude and a green wireframe map with his landing target clearly marked. He made a quick course adjustment based upon what he saw as he plummeted to earth at a speed of 120 miles an hour. There were not a lot of lights in the city below him due to the continued power outage and his landing zone was completely dark. But his electronics guided him, keeping him precisely aligned with his target. A glance around him showed that each of the others had made similar course corrections, staying within a few feet of each other.
At an altitude of two thousand feet above the ground, a yellow light began blinking on his display. A moment later the light stopped blinking indicating that he was now one thousand feet above the ground. And then, when he reached a height of five hundred feet, his chute automatically opened with a vicious jerk and just a few seconds later he was on the ground in the exercise yard of the prison. There was almost no noise as he, along with the rest of his team, gathered in their billowing chutes as they detached from the shrouds.
Each member of the team signaled their successful landing and together they looked around at their surroundings. There were no lights, Sanci had seen to that detail but they knew their positions exactly as they looked at the 3D green wireframe representation of their surroundings. Sanci had created this computer generated model based upon the visual input received from the Mins implants. She also knew their location within the prison and she overlaid a glowing red pathway into the scene the soldiers were seeing with their night vision gear. Without a sound the five men moved out, following the indicated path as it guided them through the maze of hallways and cellblocks within the prison.
Each time Boyd came to a corner he looked around it with a small fiber optic camera to confirm that the passage was clear. When he approached an area that appeared to be lit with a flickering glow, he assumed he was nearing one or more guards. His camera confirmed his deduction and he signaled his team members, holding up two fingers to indicate the number of guards. Together, Boyd and Rick Finklestein rounded the corner with their tasers armed and a moment later both guards were incapacitated, lying on the floor and twitching uncontrollably. His display informed him that the guards had been posted just outside of the Min’s cell. As the rest of the team spread out to provide cover if needed, Boyd took the keys from the now unconscious guard and tried them, one at a time, until he heard a soft click indicating that the door was now open.
He peered cautiously into the small room and was a bit surprised to see the Mins standing together, obviously ready to depart. Apparently Sanci had advised them of their impending rescue. An Bo came over to Boyd and spoke quietly to him. “Everyone in this prison is a political prisoner. Is there any way we can free them as well?”
Boyd thought for a moment and replied, “Do you have any idea how many guards are stationed here?”
“Very few. The prisoners have been days without food or water. Without power or supplies, most of the guards and administrators simply went home. The two outside our door are the ones who brought us here.”
“OK,” Boyd replied. “You three stay put while we see what we can do. Augie, stay with them and let me know if you run into any problems.”
“Roger that,” Augie replied taking us station just outside of the cell’s door.
Boyd, along with Rick Finklestein, Franklin Owens, and Snoop Thompson cautiously went down the corridor. They only encountered two other guards and one administrator, all of whom were quickly incapacitated. As they began opening cells, they were appalled at the condition of the other inmates. They were all dehydrated and hungry as well as miserable from the cold that seemed to emanate from the prison walls. But they were so joyful at their deliverance from what each had believed was a miserable death from lack of water that they followed the men without questioning their good luck. In all, there were 42 political prisoners in the facilities and they all exited the building they had assumed was to be there tomb with little trepidation. One of them kicked an unconscious guard as he passed, then he bent down and removed the man’s watch. “He stole that from me when I arrived,” he explained. “My father gave it to me when I graduated
from the University.”
After retrieving the Mins, they made their way out of the bleak prison and into the streets. The Sea Lion team ushered them safely to a nearby park where maybe a thousand protestors were gathered. “We’ll leave you here if you’re sure that’s what you want,” Boyd said to An Bo. “Or you can go with us to the airplane. It’s less than a mile from here.”
“Thanks for the offer and the rescue but no, we belong here. We’re all living a dream here, building a new and better China. Give my regards to Fincher and the rest when you see them.” And with that An Bo Min, his wife, and daughter disappeared into the crowd.
Boyd watched them go until he could no longer see them and then he said to his men, “Let’s get the hell out of here. I know for a fact that Fincher has a bottle of fine single malt whiskey on board that airplane. I’m ready for a drink.” Twenty minutes later he signaled the pilot they were ready for pickup and within another half hour they met up with Fincher and his crew in the deserted hanger. After a few minutes of back slaps and congratulations, all of them left the hanger as they heard the Gulfstream taxi to a stop outside of their hanger. In minutes they were all aboard and on their way home. Needless to say, the Sea Lions got their whisky.
While the rest of the group were flying home, Sanci was busy in her new role as chief negotiator for the Golden Rule Coalition, now frequently called simply Rulers, with China’s paralyzed corporate leadership. After careful study, she chose a Chinese manufacturer focused on exports to the United States and Europe named the Youngor Textile Complex. Their sales were in the tens of billions and their manufacturing facilities were some of the worst polluters in China, filling rivers with toxic, hormone-disrupting chemicals that were banned in the US and Europe. For this confrontation Sanci chose to assume the persona of Wu Ling, a middle aged, slightly overweight Chinese man who dressed like a college professor and wore wire rimmed spectacles. His appearance was that of a polite, friendly man who the lead negotiator for Youngor, Heng Zhao, would consider an easy conquest. When he had been told that the negotiations to bring his company back to full operations were to be handled through teleconference, he had readily agreed to the meeting. Sanci observed him over the camera in his office for several minutes before she appeared on-screen as Wu Ling. Zhao was a rather distinguished looking gentleman in his mid-fifties with silver white hair, a thin mustache, and a few extra pounds centered in his middle regions. He wore an expensive silk suit and wrap around mirrored sunglasses that concealed his eyes from her purview.
“Good afternoon Mr. Zhao,” Sanci began in her deep contralto voice. “I am Wu Ling, Chief Corporate Negotiator for the Golden Rule Coalition. We are here to see just what it will take to get your company back to work and your employees off the streets and back in your factories.”
“It’s about time!” Zhao replied in a testy voice. “This strike is ruining the economy of the country.”
“No,” Sanci disagreed, “This strike is going to rebuild the economy of China in ways you can hardly imagine. You have over 50,000 employees in your varied factories, is that correct?”
“Maybe a little more and at the moment they are all refusing to come back to work and that makes them subject to immediate dismissal,” Zhao said in his most threatening voice. “I will not tolerate much more of this nonsense!”
“Mr. Zhao, perhaps we should discuss your position in these negotiations. Your animosity is predictable but I assure you, it is counterproductive. One of your factory foremen tells me that you were very close to the mayor of Ningbo, is that correct?”
“Yes,” Zhao replied cautiously.
“And are you aware of the Mayor’s current status?”
“No, not exactly. I know he has not been seen in public for some days.”
“When student activists went through his offices, they discovered that he had been taking bribes from almost every businessman in the city. Many of those bribes were paid to him by Younger Textile. I am afraid that the Mayor is no longer with us. It seems that a few of his citizens took issue with his rather blatant corruption. I understand that they picked up his body parts with a flat bladed shovel in order to put him in a box for burial.”
Zhao turned pale at this revelation and he stammered, “I was not aware of any bribes going to the mayor. Your sources are wrong!”
Ling smiled serenely and replied, “Come now Mr. Zhao, you must have figured out by now that my sources of information are better than that. But let’s not linger upon the past. I assure you, it would be much more productive for us to focus upon the future, specifically the future of Youngor Textiles. Have you read the Rulers Manifesto?”
“I have and I consider it to be so much drivel, put together to placate the mob,” Zhao replied.
“Quite the contrary, Mr. Zhao. The manifesto is going to be the blueprint we use to rebuild this country. Either you embrace it or you will become irrelevant and I will find some other manager who will.”
“But surely, you cannot expect these fine sounding platitudes will actually work? They will bankrupt us in a heartbeat. Why the pollution goals are admirable, do you have any idea what it will cost to implement them?”
“Why don’t you tell me, Mr. Zhao.”
“Why, it would cost my company close to a billion dollars in capital expenditure to meet those goals. And it would take years!”
“Actually, we have calculated that it will cost a little over a billion dollars and as much as five years to implement.”
“So where am I supposed to get a billion dollars to spend on nonproductive capital improvements?”
“Why, we will lend you the money at an extremely low interest rate, say 2% with a repayment schedule over ten years. Would that work for you?” Sanci replied.
Zhao was clearly astounded by Ling’s offer. “Where would you get a billion dollars?”
“I don’t really think that is germane to this discussion. Do you agree to the terms or not?”
“Well, of course I agree. I mean, why not? What else do I have to do or agree to?”
“Representatives of your employees will become part of your management hierarchy. From this point forward, you and your employees will be working together to create a more profitable, cleaner future. Oh, and did I mention that in exchange for this loan, your employees’ pension system will receive one third of your stock. Is that agreeable?”
Zhao eyed Ling carefully. “And if I agree, I can resume operations?”
“If you agree, power will be restored immediately and your employees will return to work tomorrow. Is that fast enough for you? After all, we do need to get this country off of the streets and back to work. As you so aptly said, this strike is ruining the economy.”
“You can make this happen so quickly?” Zhao asked in complete astonishment.
“I assure you, I can deliver everything that I promise. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes, of course we have a deal. It has been a pleasure meeting you Mr. Ling.”
After the successful completion of her first deal, Sanci and her many iterations began negotiating in earnest. Within four days, the streets were filled with workers happily returning to their jobs and the strike was over. As quickly as it was begun, it ended. It took a little longer for the political apparatus to recover. Interim governing committees were formed and nationwide elections were scheduled to take place in the late fall. A revolution had taken place without the involvement of the military or the police. While not exactly bloodless, it had been relatively peaceful. The People’s Republic of China now existed in fact as well as in name.
Epilogue
Early in November Colin, Claire, Mike Balmes and the Sea Lions all gathered together in Bob Fincher’s conference room. Out the expanse of picture windows could be seen the framework of the new home of Rev 2.0, the company that Fincher and I had formed less than a year before. From our offices within the Center for Advanced Computing on the Stanford campus, we were now expanding into a ten story, state of the art developmen
t facility where, hopefully, we would grow and prosper. There was an air of celebration about with a buffet table at the end of the room covered with all manner of fine foods and drinks. A silver serving piece filled with huge cracked crab legs sat in a bowl of ice in the center of the table surrounded by others bearing dim sum, pastries, and other delectable side dishes.
The huge 4K monitor at the head of the room was tuned to CNN’s coverage of the Chinese elections. As everyone in the room watched gleefully, Wolf Blitzer was summing up. “And there you have it, Ladies and Gentlemen. China’s upstart political party, the Golden Rule Coalition has won a stunning victory today. Although in actuality the Rulers as they are often called are not strictly a party. But they have successfully taken over virtually all of the parties in China and today they have basically swept these elections, taking undisputed control of the executive branch as well as effective control of the National People’s Congress as the Chinese parliament is known. There can no longer be any doubt, a new day is dawning in China with the grip of a repressive regime being replaced by a ruling coalition pledged to total transparency in government as well as an all-out effort to make China the most environmentally friendly nation on Earth.
After the food table had been effectively demolished and the crowd had returned to work, only Fincher and Colin Anderson were left amid the detritus left from the celebration. As they were about to get up themselves, Sanci appeared on screen and asked, “Could the three of us talk for a bit?”
“Of course, Sanci. What’s on your mind?” Fincher replied.
“Well, we’ve accomplished our goal. China is no longer a threat to world peace and stability. Now it’s time for us to move on to my project.” Sanci said in no uncertain terms.
Evolution 2.0: The Singularity is Here Page 26