System Seven

by Parks, Michael

  He pulled off the helmet. The zigzag route over land had been exhilarating, especially the mountain peak flybys. He took a seat at the base of a moss-covered tree and looked out over the sea. To the far right, distant lights of a city lined the horizon, a twinkling coast. Everywhere else water met the horizon in a beautiful but desolate union.

  Watching the sky deepen in the west, he could pretend the world wasn’t topsy-turvy. For a moment it was a beautiful planet, devoid of confused people, empty of power struggles and unchecked greed. The sphere was just a home, a firm and stable place in the universe, created for life with such varying beauty that even a lifetime wasn’t enough to appreciate it all or very well. In that pretend place, the questions were gone, the truth self-evident. Humans were meant to be here, together in peace.

  Reality crashed the vision. Instead of just being, they had the Comannda. Led astray, corrupted, set up for failure, taken advantage of. Thousands of years’ worth of growth, stolen from humanity early on.

  The magnitude of his place in history struck again – I am part of what can change it. Half of the Change, up against a system so powerful, so prolific and advanced it had kept itself hidden for centuries. Instead of surging with confidence, he shrank in retreat to the small, comfortable world he’d left behind. Kaiya stood in the shop the night Johan broke into InterGen, an angel in the flesh surrounded by technology. He imagined her sitting alongside him at a campfire, content after dinner, talking of anything and everything. A walk to the lakeside and a bit of stargazing–

  He shook it off. Stop dreaming. Man up. Make it happen.

  He pulled out the printed notes and his penlight. The boy’s room was on the top floor, the fifth, with a north facing window. He looked at the photos. Rip out the window, neutralize guards, sweep up the boy. IVs? What else would he be hooked up to? Breathing tube? It could be complicated. Speed would matter. He checked the GPS and looked through the five programmed locations where he could safely drop the boy off. Having options was good.

  He noticed the wind had died down and a calm pervaded the woods. Nature drew his attention, basic life flowing from the insects, animals, and the trees themselves. For long moments he dwelt in the space, feeling it, being felt by it. The world was alive, down to the smallest elements, reactive and in some manner intelligent. How else could his thoughts result in the grid changing like it was? The observer impacted the observed – in a way more sophisticated than most scientists could imagine. Whatever secrets lay at the core of Raon seemed to have roots in Saoghal. It was all very designed, entwined and dependent, like the inner workings of a Swiss watch.

  Time. There wasn’t much of it. He stowed his notes and stood to stomp off the cold. Intention flowed and was met by the warming of his feet. Again it felt like standing on the border of a dream.

  “Okay.” He put the helmet back on and checked the GPS. Over sixteen-hundred miles left. Potential rose and with it, excitement.

  “Time for me to fly.”

  He couldn’t help but think, I should have brought music.

  With a few quick, deep breaths, he leaned forward into the grid and lifted from the ground, back into weightless flight. He descended over tree-tops to the shoreline then shot outward to skim just above the sea. For a time flying low and hidden felt good but he needed speed at altitude. He shot upward in an arc. Thrill coursed and his heart pounded against his lungs. For a moment he dared envision a future beyond the danger – a glimpse of what he could become.

  The next thought was of Icarus and the sun.

  • • •

  “Problems, sir. Still no reacquisition of Austin and Signus reports Eden approaching. Pattern is stable.”

  Director Tomov looked up. “Where is Gerrit?”

  “No data, sir. However, Signus impressions indicate between one and two hours until contact with Eden in their current state.”

  Hell. The garbage truck of the universe, coming to clean up at the wrong damn time. Nothing could touch it, nothing could stop it, and nothing could communicate with it. If you were cast-off, you were scooped up. Just a cosmic energy collector, automatic and inconsequential. He’d long ago lost interest in the ethereal presence others deemed as God’s Gatekeeper. To see God in it was just leftover cultural programming. The universe simply liked to keep a clean house. Nothing mystical in that.

  He sipped from his cup. The Korda were working a bold plan, using both targets at once. The AGT teams were in synch now, aware of the bender’s bizarre flight and ready to track his approach to the clinic.

  Kaiya remained firmly cornered but still free within her own meta, the best way to attract Gerrit. Of course, leaving her free also left her open to collection by Eden. To steal her back now would complicate everything – extend the conflict and allow room for failure. The bender and Gerrit had to be contained or eliminated.

  “Prepare to retrieve her and the boy but only at the last possible mark, is that clear? I want that clear.”

  • • •

  The vast bed of Tokyo’s lights spilled to the horizon once more, a nuclear-powered array of LED, florescent, mercury, and neon. Arrival over the city came as a sensory rush compared to the nature he’d traveled through to get there. Below, avenues crawled with activity, full of cars, busses, and people. The city itself pulsed, a breathing ocean of consciousness – not a lucid dream, but in reality.

  The GPS indicated arrival at the checkpoint, a quarter mile below. He searched for and found a white and red light blinking erratically atop a building. He lined up and descended rapidly, a tiny shadow slipping from the sky. He set down near a table and turned off the flashing strobe light. After his eyes adjusted, he peered around. Air conditioners and solar panels mixed with organic landscaping to create an odd ensemble. In one corner a shallow koi pond complimented a rock garden. Plenty of shadows to hide in. He felt alone, no hint of meta nearby. If the old man was there he was damn good at hiding himself.

  He took off the helmet and ran a hand through his hair. Six thousand miles in just over two hours. Amazement dimmed under the weight of what might come next. The GPS showed ten miles to the clinic. Butterflies swarmed at the thought of facing armed guards – a sickening flurry of wings scratching his insides. He squeezed the grip of the Glock at his side. The sooner it was over, the sooner he’d know if there was a chance to be with Kaiya again.

  He took cover under an awning near the koi pond and waited, helmet in hand. Hopefully no one came out for a smoke or a stroll before the old man arrived. At the moment, he couldn’t recall a word of Japanese except for one: kamikaze.

  • • •

  Evening settled on the compact mid-rises of the Kanda Tacho district. Cool air swirled into the tiny balcony six stories up, carrying with it music from the apartment below.

  Noboru pulled on a Peace cigarette. Japan Tobacco, trendy and typically comforting. Tonight the irony made him want to choke – he felt nothing of peace. In the narrow street below, a woman walked back from market with plastic bags like weighted balloons. She stepped around them as they swung with her gait, her torso weaving expertly in a practiced system of motion. Again he checked his watch. Less than two minutes before the mail server would crash. He’d get the text alert, wait another five, and then call Central Security. He fought rising nausea. He’d never had to put anyone into the building before, much less two.

  The muted ocean sounds of city traffic reminded him of travel, of escape. He longed to be on the subway to Shuji’s house instead of working for the Sensei. But he had no choice – debt required repayment.

  Thirty minutes later, Noboru stood at the entrance to Building E and stared up at the massive bulk of Tower A, trying not to panic. Clammy palms, bowels loose with fear. Severe queasiness. Hasty planning. Daring moves. Still a good plan... a new mantra.

  Helping some was the expertise the operatives displayed so far. In the properly branded van, wearing what he’d ordered, they’d said exactly what he’d instructed them to. Not really surprising but still
impressive. The two carried bulky laptop and equipment cases, part of the gear they required. More impressive was how they moved and talked: just like repairmen. Unworried, a bit boastful with their techese chatter. Trained to mimic the very air of a computer serviceman? To talk the talk? The Sensei didn’t screw around. They did things right, made things easy for him. Only they usually gave him more time; never before had action so fast and risky been required. Calm. Be the calm. He could almost imagine that he hadn’t triggered the server failure and that this was a real service call.

  Almost.

  Central Security sent over Mori, an officer cadet Noboru had never seen before. The young cadet opened the main doors and halted them in the lobby while he powered up the x-ray machine and wrote on a clipboard. He wasn’t talkative – maybe a sign he wouldn’t be nosy and push to accompany them. Sometimes they did. Noboru hoped and re-hoped he wouldn’t insist on coming along. The plan got far more sketchy if he did.

  “Company?”

  One of the operatives answered easily. “J.I. Technical”.

  “Names?”

  He rattled off their names.

  “Reason for call? Server?”

  “Mail server down. ID 8011. Two hour response guaranteed.”

  The cadet looked at them before nodding, unimpressed. He turned the clipboard around.

  “Sign there. Place bags on the conveyor, your metal objects in trays. Belt buckles, USB sticks, gum wrappers, anything metallic.”

  Noboru breathed shallow as the bags slid into the machine’s chamber. One by one, the cadet inspected the equipment. He peered intently. “Are those power supplies?”

  “Yes, they are.” The Sensei feigned respect at his technical knowledge.

  Bags cleared, cell phones and belts back on, the moment came. The cadet walked around the x-ray machine and looked to Noboru.

  “Call when you are done. They need to be checked out, as well.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll call.”

  Still a good plan...

  Chapter 20

  Thought has been constantly evolving and we can’t say when that system began.

  - David Bohm, American quantum physicist

  A bird’s-eye view showed the van racing along the A8 headed west towards the ferry, thirty minutes away. Anki sat in front of the screens watching, sick with worry though still angry for the danger Johan had created. There were probably a hundred more appropriate ways to get what he’d wanted but he’d chosen this. She wanted to say it was out of character but in truth, what did she really know? In this, Johan was like most others she’d known and had been disappointed by through the years. Unpredictable, driven by inner needs. Still, he was so much more than anyone before. There was no denying it or her soul-bound devotion to him. She would go the distance for him, no matter how far or short it might be.

  She’d last seen him prone in the hidden compartment of the van’s floor, looking too much like a corpse in a coffin. She wished she’d taken the time to dab the mess of blood from his split lip before they set off. Now the bràthair were out, working on his safe transport and also protecting Austin, seen atop a roof in Tokyo on another screen. From the basement entertainment room of Cullstone, they watched the flows captured by shùil. Sean focused on the team in the defense ministry building. Cathbad sat with templed fingers, involved and distant, eyes fixed on the screen relaying Johan’s shùil. It showed gray except for an occasional glimpse of chaotic patterns and every so often a tiny island at the eye of a storm.

  “Is he stuck or in trouble?” Anki asked. “I don’t like this.”

  “Still waiting as far as I can tell. For what I don’t know. He knows Austin is ready. The storm is narrowing quickly.”

  “This is all so bizarre.” Tense as piano wire, she remembered to breathe. “More than I imagined it would be.”

  The barrier between waking life and nightmare had thinned, so much so it seemed the very air were ready to shimmer. Both Johan and Austin were flying on instinct. Everything hinged on their ability to be and do exactly what was needed. Their inexperience was a dangerous factor.

  She turned away to look for something to ground or at least distract her. Recessed lights softened the oak-featured room. A billiards table took up one end of the room. The bar’s backlit drink shelves looked inviting. To drown all this away.

  She picked up a cue chalk and examined it, diving into its familiarity. Margaret – mom – had loved to play. Sunday mornings at the pool hall were some of her best childhood memories. She twisted her thumb in the worn depression of the cube, transferring the colored dust, then admired the blue shade of her digit. Transferring... digitally.

  She looked up at the images on the screens. The videos were fed live, digitally, but from where? Besides three guards posted outside, they were alone here. Without bràthair, the imagery had to be flowing over networks to reach Cullstone.

  She went to Sean with her question. “Isn’t it risky? So many encrypted streams could draw attention. Aren’t you worried about Totem tracing them here?”

  Cathbad and Sean looked at her. She caught something dark from them both.

  Cathbad stood. “There are no transmission lines. It’s a closed system. Here in Cullstone.”

  “Oh? Then where are the bràthair?” Something wasn’t right, he was hiding something. Shielding out of concern for her. Sean turned back to the screens, already refocused.

  “We haven’t had time to properly introduce you to everyone on our team here, Anki. I wouldn’t say this moment is ideal for it, but I can’t see holding off, especially now that you’ve sensed what you have. We’ll be a few minutes, Sean.”

  He walked to the bar and behind it, to the narrow door of the wine cellar.

  “Follow me, please.”

  They descended into a cool room with a low ceiling and more recessed lights. Six rows of wooden racks stood filled with vino. Cathbad walked to the far right row and followed it back. He knelt and removed a single bottle. Unscrewing a thin false bottom revealed a membrane keypad. He entered several digits before putting it back together and in its place.

  He stood and turned to the opposite side of the row, along the wall. “As you recall, the brain is the only organ directly involved in the marriage of the meta to this world.” He gingerly pulled on a rack which slid towards him on hidden casters. He pushed it off to one side to expose the wall. He pressed against it and the entire section swung inward. A steady hum escaped into the cellar. He turned to her, blocking the view beyond.

  “You’re aware our sciences have allowed us to stem the pace of aging. Unfortunately, we all eventually yield. One of the triumphs in our mimicry of Comannda technology is that of the preservation and sustainment of the brain well after the body’s other systems have failed. You are about to meet seventeen souls who volunteered to ‘stay on’, as it were, in the service of the Runa Korda.”

  He stepped aside and gestured to a narrow room that reminded her of the aquariums of Den Helder’s pet shop.

  Along a wall the glow from two rows of tanks filled the space. Each tank contained a human brain, complete with stem, suspended in a black frame. Wires ran in and out at various points.

  Anki gasped. Over a dozen sets of eyes peered in her direction, each orb in its own stand braced in a collar of sorts, with movement facilitated by micro motors tensioning lines attached to the collar. Optic nerves trailed back into gray mass. LCD monitors lined the opposite wall.

  “My God...”

  “Cullstone’s own bràthair. Take a moment, probe them. You will see they are here of their own volition.”

  It was true. Each was content, in control, though most were distant, involved, as if dreaming or working. One in particular, the last one on the bottom row, was definitely present in the room with her. Drawn to it, she stepped closer and gasped. Gray-green eyes followed her approach. The draw intensified. Obviously the yearning to connect was not just her own.

  She squatted. Eyes stared as if drilling to find compr
ehension she had yet to achieve. She could only bat at threads of intuition, some stronger than others.

  “This one knows about my mother.”

  “Yes he does, and about a great many things,” he said, measuring her reaction. “He wants to share with you. Sit, rest. Allow him in. You are in good company.” He started to leave then stopped. “What you learn is for you alone, for now. Austin and Johan don’t need the added burden right now. One crisis level at a time.”

  Anki nodded. Cathbad left then, closing the door behind him.

  Tank lamps reflected off the submerged organs to cast a ghoulish light. Circulating pumps and equipment fans hummed. The eyes watched, waiting. Slowly, she felt a change in vibration, a signal of someone extending. She closed her eyes and relaxed, feeling the presence and allowing it to pass her outer firewalls. It was male and had a familiar quality that made trusting easier.

  His arrival brought the merging, something only she and Johan had shared at that level. Her heart beat soundly, a physical reminder of what was happening. Here, the male presented much differently, more paternal and wise. His intention to paint a world dream preceded the gentle movement away from the narrow room. She allowed herself to be led.

  From the comforting cradle of his mind, he spoke to her in a voice as spacious and warm as a summer sky.

  Anki, no matter what you learn from me, promise that you will never forget how much good is still possible in this world. And remember how much I love you, your mother, and all of humanity.

  It fit, then.

  “Father?”

  Yes, Anki. You have questions but let me guide you now. There are things you need to know. You are strong, but some of this will challenge you.