“Ma’am, sir, I think you better have a look.”
“Well,” Samantha chimed in, “let’s see what the esteemed Dr. Pella had sent to him.” She jested, hoping to liven up Alex’s spirits, “Maybe it’s another one of those muon thing-a-ma-doodles or a different accelerometer you ordered.”
She looked inside. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She shook her head in disbelief. “No, it looks like you’ve received a huge ego accelerometer instead.”
“What are you talking about?” Alex said as he rose to his feet.
Inside the box he saw a beautifully ornate crown. Made completely of golden oak leaves and acorns, it was fashioned together to craft a breathtaking headpiece.
“For you, my queen,” Alex joked, gesturing to the package.
“Will that be all sir?” Phil interrupted, uninterested in non-pertinent banter.
“Yes, Phil,” Alex responded. “As always, I appreciate your services.”
Phil tipped his hat, did an about face and walked stiff-armed out the office.
“This thing is heavier than it looks,” Samantha went on to say, putting on the crown. “I don’t know who wore this, but either they had the neck the size of a tree trunk or used it solely for decoration.”
Alex pondered where he saw a crown similar to this one as he took a small strip of plastic out of this box. Upon touching it, a message appeared in red:
The key to changing The New Reality is to break the pound.
Albert Rosenberg
“Odd,” Alex thought. “What’s that supposed to mean? Plus, why would I be getting a package from Albert now, over three years after his death? And why would it be marked urgent?”
“What’s it say?” Samantha asked, trying to model the crown without slipping a disk in her neck.
Alex turned the card so that she could read it.
“Well, that makes completely no sense,” she responded. “The New Reality did away with the pound three years ago for their own universal currency. Plus, I thought that Albert Rosenberg’s been long dead.”
“He is,” Alex commented. “In fact, Albert entrusted me, personally, with his cremation and burial. Without any immediate family, his will and testament insisted on my sole participation. In fact, I was not only the only person at his funeral ceremony but also the only who knows where he was buried.”
Alex was not surprised by the lack of pomp or circumstance with Albert’s funeral. As a private man, Albert reveled in his anonymity and found social gatherings pretentious at best. However, Alex was surprised that he, instead of one of Albert’s close friends, cousins, or even executives, was chosen to execute the man’s final wishes.
Alex had known Albert ever since he was a young boy. Because his parents worked with him in the New Reality before he gained control of the company, Alex occasionally spoke with him throughout his younger years. When Alex lost both of his parents as a teenager, Albert took much more interest in the boy’s affairs and offered him advice and assistance whenever needed. Albert also took great pleasure in all of Alex’s successes, almost like a father would a son. Even when Alex was an adult, the two would meet once a year over tea for casual conversation. Albert enjoyed their intellectual banter over such subjects as politics, religion, and science.
“So then,” Samantha asked, steadying the crown on her head, “Why are you getting this crown now?” She jested, “Maybe the package got lost in the mail?”
“No,” Alex answered. “Albert was an extremely shrewd and intelligent man. If he sent this package three years ago and wanted me to receive it today, then it was certainly no accident.”
Samantha finally took the crown off of her head. Twisting her neck around to rid herself of the kink, she then brought it over to Alex. With a little curtsy, she held the crown out in front of her and said, “Sire, I think this is yours.”
Alex walked around the desk and took the crown. “Thank you, my lady,” he responded in good humor.
“Finally,” Samantha said. “A smile. I haven’t seen that for some time now.”
Alex inspected the crown, and was surprised by its weight. Understanding its historical context, he marveled at the ancient beauty.
“You think it’s real?” Samantha asked.
Alex rotated it in his hands and let it bounce a few times to better get the feel of it. “This is no forgery. Solid gold. Probably worth a small fortune.”
“Who do you think it belonged to? Looks Roman to me.”
“Close,” Alex responded. “It’s Macedonian in origin.”
“Macedonian?”
“Albert used to have a similar one on display in his massive Greco-Roman collection. That crown belonged to Alexander the Great’s father, King Philip II. It was discovered when his burial mound was excavated in 1977.”
“Could this be Alexander the Great’s then?” Samantha asked.
“I doubt it. Although this crown seems like a natural successor to that of King Philip II, Alexander’s tomb was never found. It was lost to history when paganism was outlawed by Emperor Theodosius I in the fourth century.”
“Well,” Samantha said with her hands out.
“Well, what?”
“Aren’t you at least going to try it on?”
“No,” he smirked. “I was just about to put it back into this box so we can get on with our meeting. I wanted to finish early today so that I could get my aero-bike ready for the race tomorrow.”
Before he could place the crown in the box, Samantha grabbed it from him. Not wanting to protest and make this conversation last any longer, Alex capitulated as Samantha placed it on his head.
“Are you happy now?” Alex jested as he bowed toward Samantha. “Can I take this thing off so we can get started with this meeting?”
“Anything you wish, King Alex,” Samantha responded.
Before Alex could grab the crown, he suddenly felt hot and clammy. Sweat began to bead down his temples while his pulse rapidly accelerated. The room slowly began to close in on him, and he felt as if he were about to pass out. “I… a…,” he attempted, staggering.
He could hear Samantha asking if he needed help, her voice growing more distant by the second, until her questioning became a faint whisper.
As the world around him began to go completely black, a bright flash of light suddenly overwhelmed all of his senses. In the next instant, he could see an impressive mountain towering above him. Trees covered its lower half while bare, gray rock adorned its uppermost region, which pierced the scant cloud cover in its seeming attempt to reach the heavens.
To his amazement Alex was mounted upon a horse, which trotted through the grassy plains along the valley. Looking down, he marveled at the stature of this beast, a beautiful black stallion with a long, flowing mane. The horse’s muscular physique made it appear is if it were chiseled from stone. As it trod, the ground underneath seemed to delight at its footfalls.
Alex thought, This feels so natural. He nudged the horse with his left heel, and it began to slowly gallop in response. Memories of Neurono-Tek, gadgets, and The New Reality faded away with each new step.
I’ve only ridden a horse once in my life, yet I feel like I know exactly what do to. He gave it a second spur. This time, the brilliant stallion broke into a full gallop. Alex clutched the reigns, lowered his head behind the horse’s mane, and eased the great beast into the nearby cluster of pine trees.
Picking up even more speed, Alex negotiated through the forest with the dexterity of an expert equestrian. The horse felt like an extension of his own body. No space was too tight, and no turn too sudden for the two of them. Exiting the trees, Alex felt exhilarated as his body was once again basked in sunlight.
“Alexander,” called a young boy running toward him from across the valley. “Alexander! Alexander!” the child continued to yell until he stood at his feet.
The child, out of breath and sweating profusely, bent over and took a deep breath. Alex noticed the boy was wearing a rather unusual type of
attire for a child of his age. The long, light-brown tunic tied with a white rope around his waist made him look out of place for the 21st century.
“Alexander,” the child repeated. “There is word the king wishes to make amends with you. A messenger awaits. Come with me!”
The boy turned and ran back in the direction from which he came. Slightly confused, Alex hesitated a moment before calling, “Wait!” Intending to follow the youth, Alex went to give his mighty steed a quick kick with his left foot.
Before could bring back his heel, the world went black, sending him into a mental spiral of both confusion and pain.
Chapter_3
Jules Windsor took the shield out of the box and hurled it like a Frisbee towards the WOG standing in the doorway. Amazingly, the shield glided through the air as if self-propelled and upon striking the guard, sent him flying backwards into his companions. The WOGs fell to the ground and lay there momentarily dazed as the air around them sizzled and crackled.
The shield spun in the doorway for a few seconds before it slowly descended to the floor.
Though surprised by such an unexpected result, Jules had no time to contemplate its significance. Instead, he jumped under his desk. Ever since Myra Keres took control of The New Reality he had felt as if his days there were numbered. In fact, with her tyrannical manner of running the company, he assumed she would eventually send him to a NewREMA camp, never to be seen or heard from again.
As a result, Jules had multiple methods of escape engineered in both his home and office in case he required an immediate, unimpeded escape. He then grabbed two handles that were separated by about a foot and a half on the ground. Instantly activated, the floor underneath him tilted to a 45-degree slope, and he began to slide down the trap door into complete darkness. Knowing that there were more WOGs to follow, he was forced to leave the shield behind, most likely to unfortunately end up in the hands of Myra Keres.
Jules could feel the heat at his back as his desk splintered into pieces behind him. Just as he began to descend, one of the guards firebombed his desk. He held onto the handles as his escape sled plummeted a hundred feet below ground. As he reached the end of the shaft, a faint light began to emerge.
The light became blinding as his sled shot out and into a large tunnel upon exiting. Without brakes, the sled began to spin out of control, sending Jules tumbling until the lack of further momentum brought him to a stop. Though bruised and with his suit now partly shredded, Jules jumped to his feet otherwise unharmed.
Throwing his jacket to the ground, he placed his hand under a sign with an arrow that read MOVE THIS WAY. The sign immediately dematerialized, revealing a black vest with an assortment of pockets on both its sides.
Jules put on the vest and zipped it to the top. He then grabbed a concealed lever behind where the vest was positioned and gave it a strong yank. A small doorway dematerialized in the wall next to him. With only a few seconds to negotiate through the small aperture, he ducked his head and turned sideways before the wall rematerialized upon his entrance.
He then ran down the small, cramped tunnel that offered him little illumination along the way. Only a dim light would begin to shine upon his approach, creating just enough luminosity for him to see a few feet in front of him.
Jules hoped that when the WOGs finally discovered where the escape shaft from his office led to, they would become lost in the maze of underground tunnels that were originally created by The New Reality for mass population migration.
Jules heard a loud explosion behind him as the concussion of the blast sent him stumbling to the ground. He staggered a little slower to his feet. Taking out a few red, sphere-like objects from his vest, he threw three of them against the wall about 20 feet apart as he continued to run down the tunnel.
Upon striking the wall, each sphere stuck upon impact and shot out a red laser beam of light that gyrated in different directions until focusing on the adjacent wall, parallel to the floor. The spheres then rotated until they clicked into position, curtailing any further laser guidance.
Hoping that his biotags would prove undetectable underground, Jules quickly discovered the error in his logic. The obliteration of the wall he used to enter the tunnel confirmed he had been wrong. The WOGs definitely knew his location and were now just behind him.
They must have upgraded the sensitivity of the biotags, Jules thought, still running down the tunnel. Or, he reconsidered, they probably installed more sensors underground and in these tunnels.
Without any means to remove the biotags, he only hoped to follow this tunnel deeper underground where hopefully there would be no sensors. Because the biotags were microscopic nanorobots, no larger than a complex protein, they were dispersed throughout the atmosphere and into the world’s water supply, making it impossible not to come in contact with them.
Once inhaled, ingested, or even absorbed through the skin, these nanorobots would seek out forming red blood cells and attach to the nascent DNA. As the cells matured through erythropoiesis, they would lose their DNA, leaving the nanorobots alone in the fluid part of the cell called the cytoplasm.
Configured with the red blood cell’s unique DNA signature, the nanorobots created and transmitted a unique, personalized quantum signal that The New Reality utilized to track the world’s population. To rid one’s self of the nanorobots would mean destroying all the oxygen carrying red blood cells in one’s body, making the option essentially impossible.
Two separate explosions shook the tunnel behind Jules. In the distance, he could hear muffled sounds of screaming and wailing for help. Jules knew the WOGs must have activated the motion-induced explosives, also known as MIEs, which he had thrown along the walls. Because he heard only two detonations, he surmised the explosives must have curtailed the WOGs’ pursuit before they had reached the third explosive.
When preparing for a possible escape a few months ago, Jules had walked down this tunnel to familiarize himself with it in case of an emergency. He had also hidden a few survival vests, one of which he wore at the moment. Because owning any means of self-defense was illegal and banned by The New Reality, he had obtained the vests surreptitiously.
All his previously legal firearms had been confiscated by the government of the New World Order. Their goal was to disarm the citizens of the planet so that their global police force could enforce The New Reality’s will with minimal interference.
Jules continued to run at full speed. With tremendous physical stamina, he barely became winded, even at this sprint-like pace.
Another explosion detonated in the tunnel. This one was in front of him, far ahead in the tunnel. In the distance he could see bright moving lights approaching him.
Trapped!
Jules stopped running. Knowing that the WOGs were both ahead and behind him, he realized he had almost no options to remain underground. He remembered that the tunnel possessed a few shafts that led directly up to the street all along its path.
Grabbing a flashlight from his vest pocket, Jules quickly began to walk in the opposite direction while shining the light on the ceiling. The WOGs’ voices grew clearer with each step he took away from them.
That’s it, Jules quickly realized.
After snapping the flashlight on the vest above his left shoulder, Jules twisted a cast iron wheel above his head until he heard a click. A circular-hinged portion of the ceiling with the wheel slowly opened, revealing a ladder heading up a long shaft.
Jules then grabbed his last MIEs and threw them against the wall in the direction from which the guards were approaching. He also snagged from his vest a quantum disruptor that was shaped like a small metal stick of dynamite and twisted its cap three times until it began to glow red.
He then dropped it to the ground and seized the first rung of the ladder above him. In a few seconds, the quantum disruptor detonated with a whoosh, leaving him with an uneasy feeling that quickly enveloped his entire body.
The lights in the tunnel and his flashlight went
dark as the device rendered all electromagnetic equipment momentarily dysfunctional. He knew this effect would only last about a minute. Hoping it would give him enough time to ascend to the surface undetected, he climbed the ladder in pitch darkness with great dexterity and skill until his hand hit another circular wheel above him.
Though he didn’t know where this ladder led, Jules only hoped that the quantum disruptor would obscure his biotag signal long enough for him to discover another escape route. He quickly turned the wheel. The hatch would not budge.
He had assumed that it would open easily. After a few nudges, the hatch remained shut. Before he could make another attempt, Jules heard WOGs in a distance underneath him. Though far-off, it sounded as if they were bypassing the escape shaft unaware of his escape. Fortunately, it meant that the quantum disruptor was still working. It also meant the MIEs mounted on the walls also must have been deactivated by the quantum disruptor.
Jules placed the side of his head and shoulder against the hatch and gave it one final push. This time it slowly opened as the rust, grime, and mold fastening it in place fell down the shaft. Jules peered out into the daylight, opening the hatch just enough to view his surroundings.
He immediately noted that he was in an alley off what appeared to be a main street in London. Two WOGs with grounded heliocrafts stood about 10 feet in front of him. Both had removed their helmets and appeared confused as to why their vehicles and equipment seemed nonfunctional.
Before Jules could exit, he could hear yelling beneath him, and the sound was growing closer by the second.
The falling debris must have alerted them to my presence, Jules presumed.
Without any further option, Jules crawled out of the shaft and quickly jumped to his feet. Other than the WOGs, only a few, large green trash containers each with The New Reality emblem and a few bicycles were present.
Jules charged the WOGs’ position. With a strong chop to the nape of the neck, Jules sent one of them face first to the ground. Hitting the side of his vehicle on the way down, the man bled profusely from his forehead and he twitched unconscious next to the heliocraft.
The Hidden Reality (Alex Pella, #2) Page 4