by Shea Oliver
“How is Bjorn doing?” she inquired.
“I think we may have had a little challenge with the lesson at school today, but with a little focus, he’s completely grasped the concepts,” answered Atticus, as Bjorn broke into a wide grin.
“You are a saint, Mr. Freeman. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You would do quite well. I’m just glad I can help.”
The Cairbre family really liked their neighbor, Mr. Freeman. He had moved into a home across the street, just a few houses down, only a week after Dylan, Bjorn, and their mom had moved into their home in Denver. Dylan had been returning home on his bike after exploring his new neighborhood when he saw Atticus, carrying a large box from his car to his front door. Dylan had quickly ridden up the sidewalk to offer Mr. Freeman a hand.
Atticus was very appreciative, especially as Dylan happily helped him unload a few more boxes from his car. When Atticus attempted to give Dylan a $20 bill, Dylan refused. He was just happy to talk to someone other than his brother, especially when he saw the laptop, iPad, and boxes with logos from Dell, HP, and Apple stacked in the living room. School would start in a few weeks, but he hadn’t made any friends yet. When they’d left Tennessee, the circumstances were a bit uncomfortable, and Dylan had lost contact with all of his friends. The teen wasn’t sure what it was, but he felt safe around Mr. Freeman. He was like a grandfather that the boys had never had, and from the look of things, he was a bit geeky too!
That first evening after their meeting, Atticus had brought a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies over to their house. Joanna had answered the door and brought him into the living room. By the time Dylan came out of his room, it was obvious that Atticus had explained how kind Dylan had been in helping him with unloading his car earlier in the day. Dylan blushed as Joanna praised her son for his kindness and good heart.
Shortly after Dylan had helped Atticus move the boxes into his house, Dylan and his mom were working in the yard, when Atticus passed by while out on a walk. School had only been in session a couple of weeks. They all began chatting about the beautiful end-of-summer weather when Bjorn’s voice broke the pleasant conversation.
“That doesn’t make sense!” shouted the frustrated boy. “It simply does not work that way!”
“I got it Mom,” Dylan declared, as he headed into the house. Bjorn must have been having trouble with some homework again, and Dylan would test his own patience again, attempting to help his frustrated little brother. Dylan headed inside, hoping this round would be a good one. It wasn’t that Bjorn wasn’t smart. He was, but he just wasn’t very patient with himself.
After about twenty minutes, Dylan walked out and plopped on the bench on the front porch. His mom looked at him sympathetically. She could help her younger son with homework, but she hadn’t done much math in many years. On top of that, the way that math was currently being taught was completely foreign to her. Dylan was closer to the subject and usually did a great job with his brother. Dylan cracked up and smiled.
“So . . .” his mom asked, drawing the “oh” sound out.
“He’s not getting it. It’s not that hard, but he’s got it in his mind that he can’t understand,” explained Dylan.
“Thanks for trying.” His mom let out a long sigh, and turned to Atticus to wish him a good day, with the intention of heading in to help her son with his homework.
“Ma’am, if I may. I spent a little time tutoring in my day. Perhaps a different voice would help?” inquired Atticus.
She began to tell him that he was amazingly kind, but before she could explain how she simply couldn’t ask someone else to deal with the stubborn child, Dylan interjected, “Mom, it’s a great idea!”
Mr. Freeman, beaming at Dylan, turned to see Joanna’s response. She was happy to be home from work a bit earlier than usual, and she was greatly enjoying the chance to do some yard work with Dylan’s help. She wanted to help Bjorn with his homework, but she knew that it might be a bit of an uphill battle since Dylan had already thrown in the towel.
“Mr. Freeman, you’re very kind for offering,” she began, knowing that it was probably a good idea. “Perhaps, someone else’s approach may be a good alternative.”
“It’s always hard to say,” Mr. Freeman replied sympathetically, “but often a few words from a different perspective is all it takes. I’ll see what I can do.”
Ten minutes later, Bjorn and Mr. Freeman came out the front door. Bjorn was beaming, obviously happy. Dylan and his mom looked at each other and then at Mr. Freeman, both revealing a bit of surprise on their faces. The young boy pumped his fist in the air, as if he had achieved some great goal, and announced, “Mom, I finished my homework. Can I please play some video games?”
“Sure, if your homework is done, you can,” replied Johanna, somewhat astonished at Bjorn’s positive attitude.
She turned to Mr. Freeman, wanting to ask how on Earth he had both managed to help Bjorn with his homework and improve his mood. More often than not, Bjorn was a bit cranky when he did his homework, and when he was frustrated, it was always worse.
“A smart young man you have there, Mrs. Cairbre. But I tell you, some of the methods they use nowadays to teach simply don’t register as well with some kids,” stated the older gentleman.
“Thank you, um, Mr. Freeman.” Johanna stumbled trying to be grateful, but also wanting to know what had transpired in the kitchen. “What did you . . . how . . . I mean, thank you for helping him, but what . . .”
“It’s my pleasure,” interjected Mr. Freeman, saving Johanna from tripping over her own tongue.
Dylan headed into the house to play some video games with his brother while Atticus and Joanna remained outside, chatting on the porch for some time. When she came inside, she seemed quite at ease and sat down on the plush chair in the living room, next to the sofa where the boys were intently killing aliens on the screen.
When the boys hit a good stopping point, they paused the game, knowing their mom had something she wanted to talk about. Being a single mom was not always easy, and her job required more hours at times than she wished. Mr. Freeman had offered to stop by occasionally in the evenings to check on the boys and to help with homework if they needed it. Bjorn immediately expressed his approval of the idea, especially considering how quickly Mr. Freeman had just helped him finish his homework that day. Dylan was also appreciative, especially if it could reduce his occasional frustration from dealing with his stubborn little brother.
Over the course of the school year, Mr. Freeman became a huge help to the boys, and Bjorn even asked if Mr. Freeman could get Ms. Arthur fired and take over her job. There were occasional times where Mr. Freeman would not stop by, as he loved to travel. When he would return, he would tell the boys about some of the sites he had seen and foods he had tried. Despite her best efforts, Mr. Freeman diligently and politely refused any type of payment for helping the boys with homework or checking on them, other than joining them for an occasional meal.
Over the course of the summer, Johanna was relieved to have a trusted neighbor close by in case the boys needed anything. She felt some sense of relief when he had hired the boys to mow his lawn while he was on a trip. They agreed but refused payment. After that trip, the boys continued to mow Mr. Freeman’s lawn. For the Cairbre family, life seemed to be about as good as it could get. The boys were doing well in school. The family’s friendship with Mr. Freeman seemed to be a real blessing. He helped the boys with schoolwork. They were able to help him around his house. It was as if his kind manner and patience had even rubbed off on the boys, especially Bjorn. Joanna had even started dating. The troubles and stresses that they experienced in Tennessee seemed to be fading into the past.
Chapter 9
It’s About Who You Know
Celestina’s shuttle made good time as it headed towards the Moran-Kathor Portal, through which she would travel to Zoranth. As with all of the portals, a massive city had grown up around the portal. Her captain steered t
he shuttle to one of the large buildings on the outskirts of the city. It was a huge hotel and entertainment complex complete with casinos, gaming centers, and experiential conclaves, which was nothing more than a fancy way of saying a place where you could experience things that were illegal, but tolerated.
The shuttle docked on the shuttle bay situated on the top of the building. Celestina instructed her staff to wait for her, as none of them were invited to this private meeting. As expected, her head of security balked at the idea of her going into the hotel alone, but she commanded him and his staff to remain with the shuttle.
As she entered the large suite, she was first struck by the astounding views. Two of the walls were solid glass, with nothing at all covering them. The view of the city and its gigantic portal facility was amazing. However, her view was partially obstructed by four massive men standing across one of the windows. They were all dressed in black. They were obviously armed. All four remained nearly motionless with faces revealing no emotion.
A much smaller, leaner man sat on an oversized, stuffed sofa, smiling at her. He was dressed in light-colored, casual slacks, and an unusual silky shirt, sporting a wild tropical design. He almost seemed out of place, with his attire and seemingly relaxed, casual attitude.
As she looked him up and down, he stood up. “Do you like my new look? I’m heading to the tropical region for a little business soon, and I’m trying to find the right look.”
She continued to stare at him and then began walking into the room. She sat down on a chair and motioned him to sit back down too. She wasn’t frightened of him. She really wasn’t frightened by anyone, but he was different. He was obviously cunning and smooth, so incredibly smooth. His words slipped out of his mouth with such ease, but also with such amazing control. As she had no doubt that he was a master manipulator, she simply remained cautious during the few times that they had met.
“You’ve never even tried it, have you?” the man asked with an inviting smile.
She shook her head, ever so slightly back and forth.
“You haven’t even ever seen it, have you?” he asked, with his smile getting wider, but seeming to become more intense.
With her eyes locked on his, she reminded him, “We’re here to discuss our arrangement. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
With his smile widening again, he set a small box with a hinged lid onto the table that sat in-between them. He slowly opened it, revealing a number of small, flat packages, each with a bump in its middle. It was obvious that the packages could be peeled open to reveal an adhesive strip.
“You’ve heard about it, my dear Chief Executive Minster, but are you brave enough to try it?” He set his eyes upon her, issuing a challenge to her character with the intensity of his stare.
“Doctor Z, I have no intention of ever trying rath. You can enjoy it yourself,” she responded coldly.
Chuckling, he admitted, “Opening the box is as close as I ever will get to it. It’s not that I’m a prude. I just know better than messing with what I’m distributing, especially one that straight-up kills one out of a hundred that want to enjoy it. We need to add that to our agenda, along with expanding the delivery mechanisms.”
She was not excited about having to deal with a man like this, but it was a necessary evil. The Ministry had its own security force, but it was far smaller than what she wanted. Eliminating two of the Ministers would significantly improve the Ministry’s financial state, but she wanted to build more than just a security force. She needed a military as strong as any of the Eleven Corporations’ militaries and stronger than any single country’s military. To do this, she needed vast sums of money, and, more importantly, discretion in raising and spending it.
Tomar had given her the perfect way to do this. His Corporate military was toying with drugs to make its soldiers more effective. The goals were to find substances that could stimulate soldiers as quickly as possible, making them hyper-alert and giving them extra stamina.
Additionally, something was needed to counter the effects, bringing the soldiers back down and to recovery as quickly as possible. Rath was a byproduct of that research. However, it turned out to be a bit too much of a recreational drug, was mildly addictive, and killed about one percent of those who tried it.
Tomar’s idea was genius. Rath was cheap to produce. Celestina had some black box discretionary funds to use. Nothing had to be declared or traced on the Ministry’s books. Tomar had his military begin producing large quantities of rath and then sold it to the Ministry. While it was black box on the Ministry side, he could show it as revenue, burying it deep in the books under names of other products. The Ministry, in turn, sold it to Doctor Z’s organization. It had turned into a huge cash cow for everyone involved.
“Ms. Minister, please let me put this very bluntly and openly. You came to me wanting a way to distribute a new drug, rath. My network is vast and powerful. You made a good decision. We are now in a position to greatly expand distribution, but I need a few things. We have got to reduce or eliminate the deaths. And more importantly, we need to have other delivery mechanisms, like pills, liquids, and powders. Most importantly, we need more—much, much more. You are the only supplier, and, as long as I am your exclusive distribution channel, I can make rath flow like water.”
The meeting was taking an even better turn than she had expected. She was anticipating that he would want to renegotiate prices, but he didn’t. He just wanted more. He was savvy, and he was making enormous profits. He knew when not to rock the boat. Doctor Z smiled in wait of her reply.
“My scientists are working on the random death aspect,” she partially lied. Scientists were working on it, just not hers. “It will take a little longer to develop other delivery mechanisms, but I promise that we will have more soon. Tell me, what do you think will sell best? Pills? Liquid? We could even make suppositories if you think people would enjoy shoving it up their asses.”
Doctor Z let out a huge, spontaneous laugh. “I love your style! Most people fear me, with good cause. But you and I, we see eye-to-eye. This partnership is going to be massively profitable for both of us. Ramp that production up. I’ll sell every single bit that you can provide.”
She was almost giddy as she headed back to her shuttle. It wouldn’t happen overnight, but she would soon have a huge military under the Ministry’s command. If the next Ministry meeting went as planned, she would be in complete control of the Ministry, and, therefore, its military as well.
*****
The Moran-Kathor Portal Complex was a truly vast set of buildings and stations, spread over many square miles. The portal itself, like all portals, was only a four-foot diameter opening into a huge machine. If the portal was turned off, there was nothing but internal mechanisms to see. When it was turned on, the opening was a mesmerizing shade of blue. In many ways, it was as if you were looking into a deep, vast, clear place in the ocean. The surface shimmered, but you could see past the surface, into a depth that was impossible to describe.
As beautiful as a portal was to see, this was big business, and actually seeing the portal’s physical opening for more than a moment was a rarity. The massive enclosed area around the portal itself was similar to a huge train station. Instead of trains of large train cars, there were trains of long cylindrical tubes. The tubes would be blasted through the portal, as quickly as possible, one after the other. After a few hundred or few thousand tubes went through one way, the direction reversed, and tubes came flying through from the other end of the portal.
The tubes themselves were set on an intricate series of rail-like guides. Over the centuries, hundreds of different tubes had been designed, each specific for what would be carried inside. The tubes glided in and out of the gigantic building that housed the portal itself. The portal complex had a massive variety of shipping facilities and buildings spread over the many square miles. Tubes zoomed in and out of the portal building, heading to various other facilities in the complex. There were traditional train a
nd trucking facilities that were constantly loading and unloading tubes. Huge shuttle facilities and a large seaport enabled tubes to be moved to and from the facility by air and sea. The logistics were dauntingly phenomenal.
Of course, corporations wanted the portals to be larger than the four-foot diameter, but larger portals failed. Over time, corporations had maximized the volume of what moved through a portal. Enormous quantities of goods of every type flowed through these portals, packed tightly inside the tubes. On the other end of this portal, in Zoranth, was a similar complex. Trade was good. Thousands upon thousands of companies benefited, and profits were always a good thing.
Like every other product, humans were also carried through the portals in tubes. When a portal was first set up, people could easily crawl through, and they did, until the infrastructure was in place to move the tubes on both sides.
Celestina departed her shuttle with her staff and security. Only part of them would be traveling through the portal, as she had staff and security on the other side. They headed to one of the tube stations. This particular station targeted those of significant financial means, as using these first-class tubes cost significantly more than using others. Of course, the security checkpoints were just as thorough, but the experience was more pleasant, if such a thing can be said for being packed into something that looked like a rounded coffin.
A porter took their bags and escorted them into a huge room. Row after row of tubes were lined up with walkways in between. It was more akin to boarding a ride at an amusement park, than boarding a train or shuttle. For these more expensive tube rides, each passenger had a few more inches of tube length than his or her own height. The lower portion of the tube was for whatever luggage a passenger had brought while the top portion of the tube was for the passenger. To access the inside of the tube, the top of the tube opened like a hinged, rounded box. A padded, flat bed-like surface could be lifted to reveal the luggage area below where the passenger would lie.