by Suzanne Weyn
“I’m Grace. Yes, this is my first day.”
He looked her over. “I’m guessing from that jacket that you’re a Postman.”
“You’re not supposed to be able to guess that.”
“You get an eye for it after a while. The jacket is too conspicuously nondescript.”
“What?”
“You’re trying too hard to blend in. No one is that bland.”
“It’s also roasting.”
“Take it off,” Nate advised. “You’re deep enough underground.” As she removed the jacket, relieved to be free of it, Nate’s eyes went to the silver lining. “You’re seventeen,” he remarked.
“Yeah. How could you tell?”
“You’re chipped. Seventeen-year-olds. It’s the newest wave of Global-1 evil.”
“It’s horrible.”
Nate’s expression became skeptical. “It’s creepy but we’re all trackable, with or without the nanochip. Our phones send off signals, all our electronics do. That’s why we work without them down here, even though we think it’s safe. We’re not one hundred percent sure, so we don’t take chances. The signal jammers we have are nothing compared to the powerful ones Global-1 has. Ours just mess up their satellite signals for a few minutes.”
“But they can find me anywhere,” Grace said.
“They can see us all. From way high in the air they can locate our whereabouts and then focus down small enough to read our bar codes if we’re unlucky enough to have one. Plus, there are surveillance cameras. We’ve grown so used to them that we don’t even notice them anymore. But they’re there. Putting that chip in you guys just eliminates all the guesswork. They don’t even have to bother to look for you. You’re broadcasting all the time. You’re like a dog in one of those electronic fences — step out of line and they’ll zap you.”
“How long have you worked for Decode?” Grace asked, wanting to change the subject. She didn’t like the trapped feeling his words were imparting.
“I was a Drakian at first. Gene Drake, the guy who first tried to blow the whistle on the bar code tattoo, was my house-mate for a while. But I switched to Decode. They’re not as dramatic, but I think they’re more effective.”
Grace pointed to the book of maps spread out in front of him. “What are you doing there?”
“Ever hear of The Bar Code Prophecy?”
From the way he asked, Grace knew he had no idea about her connection to the prophecy. And she wasn’t about to tell him.
“I’ve heard of it, yes,” she said.
“Well, Decode is studying the native American Indian lands. We’re looking especially at the sacred Hopi places. We think if we can find the second tablet of The Bar Code Prophecy, it might help us fight Global-1.” Nate shifted his position and pushed his hair back pensively. “Personally, I think it’s got to be underground somewhere. The Hopi had ceremonial dwellings built into the earth. Kivas.”
Grace remembered Eric’s terrifying climb down Spider Rock to the opening holding the first half of the prophecy. “That makes sense,” she agreed.
Harry Clemente came out of a room and approached her. “The boss wants to talk to you,” he told Grace.
Nate’s eyes widened. “Big day, Grace. You’re about to meet David Young.”
“The head of Decode?”
“Yep.”
Grace followed Harry Clemente into a spare, unadorned office. Behind a metal desk sat a thinly muscular man in his forties, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. A bristly gray and white beard covered the lower half of his chiseled face. Dark eyes sparkled at her. “Welcome, Grace,” David Young said, standing and extending a hand to shake. “It’s so good to meet you. I’m pleased that you’ve become a Postman.”
Just six months earlier, Grace recalled, Global-1 had nearly killed David Young with their nanobot technology. She had read all about how they’d jailed him and used the tiny robots to stimulate his vagus nerve until it induced thoughts of suicide. Now, though, he struck her as vigorous and bristling with energy, warm and open and intense.
David Young came around and leaned against his desk, inviting Grace to sit on a nearby desk chair. He handed her back the manila envelope Jack had given her. “You’ve met Jack Kelly?” he inquired.
“Yes,” Grace confirmed. “And his partner, Allyson.”
“Geniuses, the both of them. My father and I are thrilled to fund them. Not only do we agree that magnetic repulsion technology will be the way to provide free energy for all people, we don’t want Global-1 to wind up getting a part of their work. It’s too important to humanity.”
“Jack and Allyson would never sell out to Global-1,” Grace replied. She hadn’t known them long, but she felt certain this was true.
“Global-1 is tricky,” David Young countered. “They have lots of small subsidiary companies posing as independents, but they all belong to Global-1. They own whole countries.”
“What countries?” Grace asked, shocked.
“They’re small countries … so far. They’re thinking bigger these days.”
“America?” Grace guessed.
“They’re almost there,” David Young said with a nod. “They own lots of our lawmakers already. That’s why my father can’t get anywhere with his investigation.”
“Is it hopeless?”
David Young’s face grew serious. “I don’t know. Maybe. We’re starting to think so. It’s why The Bar Code Prophecy might be our last hope. That’s why I wanted to meet you. Eutonah feels somehow that you are the key. She told me about taking you and her son, Eric, to Spider Rock.”
“Do you believe in prophecies?” Grace asked him. She still wasn’t sure that she did.
“Not normally,” David Young admitted. “I’m not superstitious. But I’ve studied this, and so many of the Hopi prophecies have come to pass. I remember when British Petroleum dumped all that oil in the Gulf, killing so much wildlife. The Hopi predicted that. We’re watching it — carefully. That’s all I can say. And that’s why we’ve been watching you.”
“Is there something I’m supposed to do?” Grace asked.
“Could be,” David Young said. There was something in the way he said it that made Grace nervous. It was as though he was taking her measure, deciding if she was ready to hear what he had to say next.
“I’ve loaded the fake bar code in that envelope with a great deal of money. I want Jack Kelly and Allyson Minor to set up shop in the Great Basin Desert where he started out, at the Decode caves there. He can run the whole operation on solar power. He knows how and there’s no shortage of sun. I want you and Eric to go stay with him in the caves.”
“Why?” Grace asked.
“Eutonah tells me there will be a gathering of the tribes at Big Mountain. The tribal elders believe that the time has come for The Bar Code Prophecy to be fulfilled. They believe that somehow the presence of the Brother and his love, the Daughter of the Master of Destruction, will deliver the people.”
“His love,” Grace echoed softly.
David Young heard her and smiled gently. “I don’t know what will happen, Grace. What I’m asking might take a lot of courage. I can’t be sure. But in my gut, I feel that’s where you should be. It’s where we all need you to be.”
“Do you know what’s happened to my family — the one I was raised with?” Grace asked. “I don’t want to go before I find out.”
“The Postman didn’t tell you?” David Young seemed surprised.
“He wanted to, but the Global-1 police came between us. Is he all right? Eric Chaca is out looking for him now.”
“If you don’t hear from Eric soon, get word to us. We have a Postman out there who knows where they are, but we usually let the Postmen run themselves. It’s safer that way. If there’s no central headquarters, Global-1 can’t raid it. I give you my personal promise that I will keep tabs on this and get word to you.”
David Young seemed like a man she could trust. He had insisted on staying in jail until every last resister
picked up in the D.C. raid of the last year had been freed.
“All right,” Grace agreed. “If you keep looking for my family, I’ll go.”
David Young extended his hand to shake and Grace took it. “I give you my word,” he said.
When Grace was once more out on the street, the manila envelope tucked in the back waistband of her jeans and under her T-shirt, she headed back toward the subway station, completely lost in thought. What was going to happen? She’d been only four years old during the Mayan calendar doomsday scare of 2012. Nothing had happened, and people laughed about it now. But was Eutonah right? Was the creation of the bar code tattoo the thing that had actually happened in 2012? Had it set in motion a series of events that were now unfolding?
Shielding her eyes, Grace tried to look at the sky but had to turn away. The bright yellow was overlaid with a haze of dirty smog. She saw the sign for the subway just two blocks away on the other side and she cut a diagonal across the street, heading for it. At least her first mission had gone well. Jack and Allyson would be pleased to have so much money for their swing-lo project. Maybe Eric would be there when she returned to the garage and would have news about her family.
As Grace crossed, she noticed two uniformed Global-1 police officers were walking down the street toward her. When she reached the other side she would walk right past them.
Her heartbeat quickened and, to be safe, she turned back to the side of the street she’d just left. There was something in their purposeful stride that had alarmed her.
Without waiting to reach the corner, the officers crossed, fanning out.
Now on high alert, Grace turned back toward Decode headquarters. The G-1 cops began walking with aggressive strides in the same direction.
A drone helicopter appeared in the lemon sky between two skyscrapers.
How had they found her? Grace’s growing fear caused her heart to hammer in her chest. The pounding reminded her of her circulation. The nanochip had most likely circulated outside the jacket’s protection. In moments the signal would be blocked by the jacket once more.
The signal jammer was in her pocket, and Grace used it now.
But they’d already established visual contact. It was too late.
Shot threw with adrenaline-fueled fear, Grace broke into an all-out run and the G-1 police did the same. They would soon outrun her. This was the time to use all the free-running skills Eric had taught her.
Remembering Eric’s advice, she shut down conscious thought and let her body take over. Leaping, she landed catlike on a railing and then sprang to a low window ledge, gripping with her fingers.
“Grace Morrow! Freeze!” The words boomed from one of the officers on the street below. “Global-1 Police.”
Without a backward glance Grace found her footing on a window ledge and moved swiftly to the right until she came to a window that was slightly open. With her foot she lifted it and slipped inside, racing through the apartment, jumping over children sprawled on the floor watching TV.
Out in the hall, she ran toward the stairs, only to see four G-1 cops running up. Reversing directions, she sprinted up a staircase to the roof.
The G-1 drone helicopter hovered there in anticipation of her arrival. A red dot played on her chest as the drone sought its target. Grace launched into a forward flip to elude the robotic predator as red laser light scorched the side of her shoulder. The flip brought her to the edge of the building. There was a lower roof, but a leap was required.
The four G-1 police raced out the roof doorway.
Backing up several paces, Grace sprang forward, kicking her arms and legs to drive her body forward, and landed on her side, rolling to standing. She was by the door of this rooftop and ran for it, but found it locked. Looking over the side, she found a fire escape that she was able to drop to and scramble down. She made it to the alley and saw no sign of her pursuers.
But they would soon be upon her. They probably knew where she was already. Grace spied a basement window and, seizing a broken brick in the alley, smashed it so she could reach in and unlock it. Maneuvering carefully through the broken glass, she scraped her arm anyway as she slipped into the basement, landing on top of a closed washing machine. Her coat was torn and the blood ran in a stream down her arm. Wiping the blood, she thought of the nanobots in it sending signals into space even as they escaped her body.
The blades of the drone helicopter flapped overhead.
Grace checked that the envelope from David Young was still tucked into the waistband of her jeans and was relieved to find it there.
On the far wall of the large basement were two doors and Grace headed for them. One led to a staircase going up. The other led into a cool, windowless room containing the building’s plumbing and piled with dirt. There was no sense going up again. They’d only grab her.
Locking the basement door leading to the staircase, Grace crawled into the dirt room. Pulling her knees to her chest, she sat and waited until the sound of the whirring chopper blades receded, all the while knowing that as soon as she went out again, they might return.
Grace’s stomach rumbled with hunger as she pushed open the door of the dirt room and re-entered the dark basement. She couldn’t stay there all night. She’d simply have to try to find her way back to the garage. Hopefully the blackness of night would help and the jammer would work. She had to pray that the nanochip in her blood wouldn’t begin broadcasting a signal the moment she emerged from underground.
The building she was in seemed quiet as she stole up the dimly let staircase to the first floor. A man came into the lobby, holding his jacket over his shoulder, sweating from the heat he’d just left behind in the street. “Wow, it’s hot out!” he said to her as he punched a number into his cell phone.
“Sure is,” Grace replied casually.
He eyed the cut on her arm. “That looks like it hurts,” he remarked. “Better clean it up.”
“I will,” Grace agreed, heading for the front door.
The man suddenly cursed and banged his cell phone with his other hand. Grace whirled toward him to see what the problem could be. “I haven’t been able to get a call through all day,” he explained angrily. “These solar flares are jamming everything.”
Not everything, Grace thought as she pushed the door open and left the building. Apparently Global-1 had stronger equipment than the average person.
Outside the sky glowed eerily, almost as though the sun were still making its way through the blackness of night. The heat was no better than it had been during the day. Checking that she still had the manila envelope, Grace made her way down the front steps onto the street, her eyes darting in every direction, alert for any sign she was being trailed.
“Grace,” a female voice hissed.
Startled, Grace turned. Kayla’s back was to the side wall of an alley. Reaching out, she snapped Grace into the alley beside her. “Thank God, I found you. We all came out looking for you as soon as we saw the commotion. Did they come for you?”
Grace nodded. “It was close,” she reported.
“I’ll bet.” In a quick jog, Kayla headed down the alley. “Come on. We’re all leaving.”
Grace followed close behind. “Where are we going?”
“To the desert. Hurry. We were just waiting on you. We’re already way behind schedule.”
Pasadena Sun
August 8, 2026 — Bedford Hills, New York
CHEROKEE BAR CODE DISSIDENT RELEASED FROM JAIL. CALLS FOR SUMMIT OF NATIVE AMERICAN SHAMANS AND CHIEFTAINS
In her first press conference upon being released from the all-women Bedford Hills Correctional Facility in Bedford Hills, New York, the Cherokee Medicine Woman and shaman known only as Eutonah thanked former Senator Ambrose Young, who had worked vigilantly for her freedom. “He has become a great friend to our cause,” she told the press and followers who had assembled to hear her.
Her second statement called for Native American leaders to send delegations to a summit to be held
on Hopi and Navajo lands near Sedona, Arizona. “This too-bright sun means the time is upon us,” she said enigmatically. When questioned on the meaning of her words, Eutonah said only, “The people have long awaited the time that all the prophecies have foretold since the beginning of this world. We must be ready to engage our hearts, minds, and spirits to face the inevitable changes.” When pressed to say what these “changes” might be, Eutonah refused to elaborate, but added, “Companies have been strip-mining this land for almost a hundred years. First it was coal and minerals, then oil. Most recently it’s the uranium. And last year they found lithium deposits out there.”
When it was pointed out that native peoples have allowed this by selling mining rights, she answered, “Back in the last century the Navajo were so impoverished that they sold some of the mining rights. That’s true, but the company they sold the rights to mined to an extent that was never imagined by the native Indians. Back in 2014, Global-1 bought up every small mining company with a contract out there; now they’re spreading into Hopi territory. In the last five years, Global-1 has also spread into Utah, onto the lands of the Ute, Shoshone, and Paiute nations. It’s completely destroying the land.”
When asked to speak to the feelings of the tribal nations on this issue, Eutonah told the assembled crowd, “The native people are protesting like crazy. A Tribal Council has gone to D.C., believing that the entire balance of the universe has been upset because all these minerals are being pulled out of the ground. The members of the council say that by taking the minerals out of the earth there, the very bio-electric balance of the universe has been thrown off-kilter. They are not speaking in the mystical abstract here. They are talking about science: radioactivity, magnetism, and the tidal and gravitational balance that the heavenly bodies maintain in relation to each other.”