The Hidden Reality (Alex Pella, #2)

by Stephen Martino

  Chapter_32

  The Achilles’ shield pendant around Jules’ neck began to glow. Its heat warmed his chest and assuaged at least some of the pain gripping his body.

  “Alex has done it!” he attempted to say aloud, coughing at the end of the accolades.

  Slowly, he began to push himself up with his back against the wall. His muscles ached and bones creaked. The footsteps were coming closer. There was just one final possibility.

  Jules turned and placed the shield into the control panel next to the door, causing it to immediately dematerialize. Another metal door stood behind it which then descended into the floor while still a third door behind the second glided to the right and into the wall.

  It worked!

  Four unarmed technicians remained inside the room. Frightened by the sight of a sickly Jules Windsor pointing a gun at them, they held their trembling hands high.

  “Don’t shoot,” one pleaded.

  “Please,” another whimpered.

  “Get out,” Jules insisted, attempting not to cough.

  “Thank you,” a tall male technician beseeched in a trembling voice while backing away towards the door with his hands held high.

  “Now!” Jules quipped while looking down at a middle-aged woman with long red hair on the floor. Her face was blue and coagulated blood covered her chin and dress.

  “She died right in front of us,” one of the other female technicians grieved, overwhelmed with a sense of sorrow. “Honestly,” she then appealed, “we could do nothing to save her. The doors were locked, and we were stuck here without any help.”

  She wept finishing the story.

  “Get out of here,” Jules responded without remorse.

  “What about Cindy?” she then pleaded, pointing to the corpse.

  In response, Jules simply raised his weapon towards the technician. Without another word, she scampered out the door with the rest of her colleagues, keeping any further comments to herself.

  Jules limped over to one of the many long, glass desks in the room and collapsed on a leather chair positioned behind one of them. Exhausted, he leaned back and took note of the massive array of computers that encircled him and spanned from the floor to the 12-foot high ceilings. They were the soul of the New World Order.

  He then attempted to remove his necklace, but intense pain scorched through his shoulder in the process, making the task impossible. Barely able to move, he simply lifted the shield and placed it onto the desk.

  What had been completely dormant a second ago lit up in a spectacular display of lights.

  Success!

  Jules leaned his hand on the table in front of him. His body gave way in the process; his arms could no longer support him.

  “Got to find out what’s going on,” he whispered.

  Shots echoed from the outside hallway. Sounding like a bunch of high-pitched fireworks, the distinctive noise could only mean one thing. The technicians must have surprised the WOGs and had been accidentally shot.

  Jules pressed a translucent, red button holographically represented on the table, shutting the room’s doors. Suddenly, he could feel his palm touching the desk begin to tingle as the activated key linked his body and mind with The New Reality’s computer system. The feeling slowly marched up his arm and then throughout his body.

  The room then grew blue and transparent. It was as if he could see through the walls and look at every aspect of the complex. In the hallway, he noted the WOGs trampling over the dead technicians, and below ground he could suddenly visualize Kevin and Myra hiding out in a bunker.

  Not only did this complex come into view, but he could now also see everywhere The New Reality spanned across the globe. The boundaries of his mind melted away as his consciousness spread effortlessly between New York, France, and Hong Kong. Everywhere The New Reality’s computer tentacles reached, so did his mind. He now had complete control over the global grid.

  Nanosplicers.

  The answer for his illness became apparent as Jules’ mind raced to ascertain more information. Like The Disease, which had swept the planet three years before, this manmade weapon of mass destruction now caused havoc not only on himself but also on a significant portion of the world’s population. He knew that easily over a billion people would die in the process.

  Their deaths meant nothing to him. Just like one of the inscriptions on the Georgia Guidestones read, Maintain Humanity under 500,000,000, he knew these nanosplicers would serve their purpose in helping secure one of his New World Order’s objectives.

  Fortunately, the scientists who create this scourge also designed a treatment, which Jules found easily enough with his global access. Jules then disseminated the antidote in an aerosolized form directly into his room. As the MicroDNA stabilizers and reconstitutioners filled his lungs and went into his blood stream, he could feel instant relief. Destroying the nanosplicers in the process and rebuilding his DNA, they slowly pulled him away from the final throes of death.

  He was saved. However, for the approximately billion others inflicted with this weapon of mass destruction, they would not be as lucky. Holding back the antidote from the world not only would prove deadly to the others infected with the nanosplicers, but it would also create a most fortunate opportunity Jules was all too happy to exploit.

  Despite feeling somewhat better, Jules knew he could not wait until he was completely recovered before he addressed the world’s population. Jules needed to act now and not allow Myra the opportunity to negate his momentary advantage.

  It was show time.

  “Don’t look at me with pity,” Jules went on to say, transmitting his visual and audio signal wherever The New Reality computer systems would broadcast across the world. Now with complete control over the entire system, the task proved effortless. “I, like you all, am simply a victim.”

  Jules attempted to smile as his parched lips struggled to open. Blotches of redness speckled his face while the remaining hair on his head gave him a scarecrow-like appearance.

  “A victim,” he went on to say after a brief cough, “not of some biblical disease but of a deadly scourge created by man’s hands alone.” He took a breath. “No, with woman’s hands alone. This plague, which has assuredly taken already both loved ones and friends from all of us, was manufactured and dispersed by your president Myra Keres. The same woman you entrusted to lead you, your families, and the next generation into a new era of prosperity.”

  Jules sighed. “But what has she done instead?”

  He looked perplexed for a second. “She has forsaken not only you and your families but also all of mankind.”

  Jules then played the recording saved by the ISA showing how Myra Keres and the head of this organization, Kevin, let the nanosplicers free into the atmosphere to kill not only Jules but also everyone else genetically susceptible to their deadly bite. It also showed how Kevin and Myra then went on to dispose of the scientist who headed the project.

  Jules made a studied pause and then began to cough in order to increase the drama of the situation before regaining his composure.

  “Humans were meant to be free, to seek out our own interests, and to follow our own beliefs—not to be caged like a bunch of animals in a military state under constant Marshal Law. The New World Order has enslaved you all, and now with the release of these nanosplicers, it has made you suffer far worse than you could have ever imagined.”

  He rubbed his balding head.

  “My friends, my fellow world citizens, we all have been fooled. Fooled into believing the government could take care of all our needs and solve all our problems. However, as the American President Thomas Jefferson said, ‘A government big enough to give you everything you want, is a government big enough to take away everything that you have.’ The New Reality has taken away your dignity, your friends, and your loved ones. Look around you. Are you better off than before Myra Keres and The New Reality took control of this world, better off than after The Disease was cured?”

>   ***

  Myra and Kevin watched the screens in the room. Every one of them broadcasted Jules’ message. Even the hologram in the center of the room depicted Jules sitting behind a desk delivering his speech to the world.

  They held each other arm-in-arm, helplessly awaiting their fate. After multiple attempts to evacuate the bunker or gain contact with the outside world had failed, Myra and Kevin realized that they were trapped in their underground bunker. They had lost.

  Why didn’t I erase those recordings? Myra lamented. In the past, she had hidden or erased her trail of deceit, forgery, bribery, and at times incompetence, so well that even her biggest detractors could never find any incriminating evidence against her.

  Myra and Kevin embraced each other tighter the longer Jules spoke. Looking around the bunker, they no longer envisioned it as a place of salvation. Instead, they saw it as a tomb for both their bodies and their dreams. All that they had worked for was now gone.

  Suddenly, the screens all around the room showed Myra and Kevin in a loving embrace. Kevin rubbed Myra’s head as tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Now,” Jules’ voice echoed throughout the bunker, “as the leader of The New Reality and the ISA are securely evacuated in an underground bunker, away from the carnage they released upon the planet, they wait safely in the lap of luxury while billions die a horrible death at their hands.”

  Myra and Kevin both knew Jules spoke the truth and could do nothing but listen helplessly. Their fate was now in the hands of a hardened man they had attempted to assassinate.

  Jules shook his head. “This tyranny must end. They must pay for the suffering they’ve caused to you and your loved ones.” Building up the theatrics, he continued speaking to the people around the world, “As a peaceful man, I would rather see justice served in a court of law. But in this extreme case, I believe the rule of law must be suspended when billions of lives are at stake. I, no we, cannot wait for the justice system. For the safety of this planet, I must make a difficult and heartbreaking decision.”

  He took a deep, sorrowful breath. “I cannot risk losing any more of your lives at the hands of these two criminals. I don’t know what other scourges they plan to release on this planet or what further injustices they plot against her people. However, I do know this…”

  Jules again took a dramatic pause and continued slowly and deliberately, “They must be stopped. Now.”

  A yellow gas began to seep into the bunker through the small vent slits located along the ceiling. Immediately upon inhalation, the gas gripped Myra and Kevin’s throats and began to burn their eyes. Myra fell to the floor in agony. Kevin held his breath and laid down atop of her. Wanting to offer her his last bit of kindness, he attempted to say, “I lo…,” but the words became too painful to utter. The intense sting from the gas made it impossible to speak.

  Kevin managed to caress Myra’s hair one final time as the two died in each other’s arms—a death that was quick compared to those afflicted with the nanosplicers.

  Jules held his head and solemnly stated, “It is done.”

  He then looked up in a more matter-of-fact manner. “The New World Order is no more. No longer will we the people have to live under constant military surveillance by the ISA and the WOGs. As the leading executive at the New Reality, I am now dismantling both the ISA and the military WOG police.”

  He slowly stood up, acting as if it were much more painful than it was. “Remember this day. The day The New World Order fell and a great new Open Society began. A society whereby all people are free to think, live, and act by their own common interests and shared values. By coming together as a society and accepting each other’s beliefs, we can live in a world of laws not imposed on us by some tyrannical government but created by the people themselves seeking out the ultimate truths in life.”

  Jules smiled. “Let the Open Society begin!”

  The broadcast ended in the bunker and around the world. As Myra and Kevin lay dead on the floor, all the lights on the walls, ceilings and computers faded out, leaving the area in total darkness.

  Chapter_33

  “Stop those tanks,” Samantha ordered. “I know how to get us to Alex.”

  Tom stabilized the ship and brought it back to an upright position. Luckily those inside did not feel the brunt of the attack.

  The volley made them almost fall off their seats. Bright, kaleidoscoping lights engulfed the ship as it rattled in the wake of the assault.

  Tom immediately sent out a barrage of electron pulses, dematerializing a dozen tanks. While turning the ship, he continued the onslaught. However, for every tank he destroyed, two new ones appeared in their place.

  “What’s going on here?” Tom asked, frustrated with the situation. “Where are all these tanks coming from?” While flicking a few more switches, he attempted to fend off further attacks before the tank offensive overwhelmed them.

  Samantha looked at the dashboard readouts of the assailants. “Something’s not right,” she announced. “These tanks’ energy readings are off the charts while their indigenous heat indexes are barely detectible. Plus, they’re not emitting any quantum vibrational signals or causing any gravitational fluxes.”

  “Now in English,” Tom asked.

  “They’re nothing but holograms,” Marissa explained.

  “And then some,” Samantha agreed. “With these readings, you would be able to touch and feel these tanks as if they were actually there and never realize they were a mere hologram. Ingenious! I’ve never encountered such technology before!”

  “We can revel at how great these holograms are some other time,” Tom stated, “but if we don’t do something to destroy all of them or get out of here, we’ll be incinerated in a matter of minutes.”

  Tom then released the smog in a futile attempt to disrupt the attack. This time, the smoke screen did little to abate the onslaught. In fact, all it proved to accomplish was to decrease their own visibility outside the front windshield.

  “The circuits here are about to fry!” Tom warned.

  “Sometimes the best offense,” Samantha said sagely, “is a better defense. Since a hologram is nothing more than a complex interference and diffraction pattern of light, we can counter its effects by modulating the electromagnetic field around the ship.”

  Though not a physicist, Tom knew how a stratoskimmer worked and recognized the ingenuity in Samantha’s plan. “So what you are saying is that I can create a force field around the stratoskimmer to protect us from further attack just by rapidly alternating the ship’s electromagnetic output frequencies?” he said, surmising the implications.

  “Exactly!” Samantha agreed.

  Tom worked on the dashboard until finally the rattling and jostling of the ship abruptly terminated.

  “Tom,” Samantha asked, “can you expand the stratoskimmer’s electromagnetic field so that I could stand outside the ship in about a 20-by-20-foot area?”

  The ship slightly jolted to the side. However small, they all understood the implication.

  “Does that answer your question?” responded Tom.

  “That’s a yes to me!” Samantha answered.

  “I can certainly create the space you need,” Tom responded, attempting to quell her overzealous enthusiasm. “But the obvious problem is that the electromagnetic shield around the ship does not protect us against every fluctuation of the holograms’ interference and diffraction patterns—leaving you out in the open and potentially vulnerable.”

  A faint, crackling voice on the ship’s telecommunicator interrupted their conversation.

  “Samantha, can you hear me?” the voice whispered. “Samantha?”

  “It’s William,” Marissa said, leaning closer to the dashboard.

  “Hone in on that signal and isolate it so that no one else can trace or hear it,” Samantha insisted.

  “Already done,” Tom quickly replied.

  “William?” Marissa said. “Is that you?”

  The response came b
ack much louder and crisper. “Don’t trust that son of a bitch Jules Windsor!” He reiterated it again after acknowledging his identity.

  “Where are you?” Marissa asked.

  “Safe,” he uttered, not wanting to divulge too much information in case the message was being intercepted.

  The signal then again became wispy and tapered off with each word. “Save Alex before it’s too late!” William insisted. “I left the quantum entanglement cube in the…”

  “Lost it,” Tom said. However, I at least got his coordinates.” He turned to Samantha. “What’s this cube?”

  “Our only hope of saving Alex,” she answered, getting to her feet. “My whole plan was based on the assumption that William left it somewhere next to Alex.”

  Samantha then walked back to the ship’s hull. “If you could please lower the door,” she asked after the stratoskimmer nudged again to the side.

  “I’m coming with you,” insisted Marissa, unbuckling her seatbelt.

  “No,” Samantha said. “I’m going to find us a way in, and when I do, I want you two to take it. I can’t risk both of us out there at the same time.”

  Marissa nodded her head in agreement. No matter how much she wanted to get out of the ship and find Alex, she knew Samantha was right.

  “I’ve got you covered,” Tom responded.

  Blasts from the tanks dissipated about a few feet before impacting the ship. However, as Tom manipulated the controls on the dashboard, this distance began to slowly expand until it reached about a 40-foot perimeter around the stratoskimmer.

  As the force field grew it actually overtook one of the tanks, making it virtually disappear in the process. An occasional faint red or blue light would hit the ship, letting them know they were still vulnerable.

  Samantha ran down the stratoskimmer’s stairs while activating the quantum entanglement cube. Her hand again became cold and blue in the process. Neglecting her own discomfort, she cautiously set it down halfway between the ship and the outer edge of the force field.

  Though warm outside, she felt suddenly cold as the dirt and air began to spin around her. The effect was momentarily disorienting, especially with the occasional flashing light of a tank’s blasts infiltrating the stratoskimmer’s shield.