The Sovereign Era (Book 1): Brave Men Run

by Matthew Wayne Selznick

  Brenhurst nodded. “Absolutely. We don't expect to disrupt your son's routine without taking care of all of you.”

  The wife leaned forward in her seat at the conference table. “Can you explain why you're so interested in Byron, again, Doctor?” Her voice was tentative and small.

  Brenhurst sat down across from her. The husband took his seat with a heavy grunt.

  “I'd be happy to, Mister and Mrs. Teslowski.” He very carefully directed the majority of his attention to the wife. It seemed the husband was ready to sell his son, but Brenhurst could tell she was not entirely convinced.

  “At Tyndale Labs, we are dedicated to improving the standard of life for the injured and infirm – especially para- and quadriplegics and amputees.”

  The husband nodded sagely. “Wooden legs and braces and stuff.” Obviously a rocket scientist.

  “Oh, that's just the beginning.” Brenhurst favored him with a complimentary nod. “We're researching ways to adapt a person's nervous system to directly control mechanical fingers, hands... even arms and legs. It's our hope that sometime within the next fifteen years, an amputee will be able to control an artificial limb simply by thinking.”

  The husband said, “Wow.”

  The wife said, “How can our Byron help with that?”

  “The human nervous system is still developing well into adolescence,” Brenhurst said. “It continues to adapt, and grow. By studying the physical fitness of exceptionally athletic young people, we can learn a lot about how human physiology adjusts to stress.”

  Understanding and acceptance began to show on the wife's face. Brenhurst pushed ahead.

  “Your boy, Byron, certainly qualifies as an exceptional young man.” He tapped the file on the table in front of him. “It seems they haven't invented a sport or physical contest at which he doesn't excel.”

  The husband beamed. “He does us proud.”

  The wife smiled too, revealing a mouth full of crooked, yellow teeth. “It’s nice to think he might be able to do something to help others.”

  Brenhurst knew he had them.

  ~

  He got to the hospice a few minutes before six. He was asked to wait at the reception counter.

  “Why? Is there something wrong with my mother?”

  The receptionist shook her head and gave him what she probably thought was a comforting smile. She picked up her telephone and pressed a button. “Mrs. Brenhurst's son is here... all right.”

  She hung up and smiled at him again. “Ms. Heller just wanted to see you for a moment.”

  “Look, I don't have much time,” he said. “I'm later than I wanted to be.”

  A door opened behind the counter and another woman came out. “Doctor Brenhurst. I'm Ms. Heller. We met when you admitted your mother.”

  “Is there something wrong?”

  “Would you mind stepping into my office, Doctor Brenhurst?”

  “Yes. I would. I'm here to see my mother. If there's nothing wrong with her, I'm going to go and do that.”

  “She's already asleep, Doctor,” Ms. Heller said. “She stayed awake as long as she could. She was expecting you.” She crossed her arms across her chest.

  Brenhurst glared at her. For this pinched, ugly woman, he reminded himself, he was saving the world.

  “I appreciate the information, Ms. Hell.”

  Her eyes flashed. “It's Ms. Heller, Doctor.” He was astonished to see her wag her index finger at him. “You mother is here to die, Doctor Brenhurst. She doesn't need any disappointments on her journey. Wouldn't you agree?”

  That was quite enough. He stepped up and laid both hands on the counter with a hard slap. Both women jerked back.

  “Listen to me, nurse. If you ever presume to... scold me... like an errant child again, I will have the County ombudsman inspect every corner of this rat-hole. One bedsore... one flea... one piece of wilted lettuce in the kitchen, and you will go back to emptying bedpans at Santa Ana Psychiatric.” When she blanched at that, he was once again grateful for the incredible access to information allowed to him.

  “Have I made clear the nature of our relationship, Ms. Heller?”

  She nodded sharply. “As glass, Dr. Brenhurst.”

  “Excellent.” He stepped back from the counter. “I'm going to visit my mother, now.” He gave a flat smile to the other woman. “I know it's late. I'll let myself out.”

  He went to his mother's room. She lay in bed, on her back, head turned away from the door. The room was dimly lit by a nondescript night light plugged into an outlet next to the door.

  Brenhurst gently pulled a plain wooden chair up to the bed, closed the door, and sat down.

  His mother didn't wake. Her breath whistled past the delicate white hairs just inside her nostrils.

  Brenhurst sighed.

  “I apologize for being late,” he said in a low voice. “The parents of that boy have committed their involvement. I had to meet with them.”

  She slept on.

  “Everything I've been preparing for... expecting... it's all happened in the last week, Mother. Donner has gone public with his metas, and worse. Things are very tenuous right now. If Teslowski's child is what I think he is, we'll have to contain him. And Andrew's son... I have to get hold of him as well, just so we can figure out exactly what he is, and if he's going to be an asset... or not. There's... a lot of pressure on me right now.”

  Brenhurst adjusted his mother's blanket where it had slipped from her shoulder. She snored lightly.

  “I can't be sure when I'll be able to come again,” he told her. “I'll try to break away, but the way things are... I've told you how important this is. It's... this is my life's work.”

  He put three fingers on her forehead and thought of the nanomechs that had swarmed there. For all that could be done with Ramey's miracle machines... what could they do for his mother?

  Brenhurst pulled his hand away and stood up. His mother was dying. There was nothing he could do about that. It was the natural order of things.

  He had to stay focused on what he could do. His job was to ensure nothing changed that natural order. Humans were born, lived, died... but were masters of the world. He'd be damned if he would let Donner and the rest of those mules and sports replace his species.

  “You can be proud of me, mother,” Brenhurst whispered. “I'm one of the good guys.”

  From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Twenty Six

  Friday afternoon at school, I responded to a call over the public address system to report to the office. It was seventh period, my free period, and since there was no Open Door at Claire’s, Mel and I had been hanging around in the commons, keeping our heads down.

  “What’s that about?”

  I stood up and shouldered my backpack. “I don’t know.” I looked across the way to Ms. Elp’s window, but the discipline advisor wasn’t in her office. “I guess I’ll see you later…”

  “Yeah. Good luck!”

  “Right.”

  I walked across the commons to the offices, confused. I had spent the entire week behaving myself. I avoided Byron Teslowski, which kept Terrance Felder and the rest of the Wingmen out of my hair. I underplayed my strength and agility even more than usual during P.E., and tried my best to stay alert and awake through all of my classes.

  The week I’d “come out” to Abbeque Valley High, I tried my best to act as normal as anyone.

  When I got to the reception area, I was doubly confused to see my mother. She smiled, so I relaxed a little, but there was tension in her face.

  “Sorry, Nate. I’m taking you home today.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t get to ride the bus? Darn!”

  We walked outside and down the long steps to the parking lot. “Your friend wasn’t giving you a ride today, was she?”

  I shook my head. “Lina? No… she’s got, like, some thing with her mother, or something. So I don’t mind you coming. But what’s the occasion?”

  “There’s going to be a press con
ference in about forty five minutes,” she said as we got into the car. “It’s about William Donner. I wanted you to be able to see it, and you wouldn’t get home in time if you waited for the bus.”

  “You don’t think they’d just repeat it?”

  She pulled out of the parking lot and flipped on AM radio. “I want you to hear it the first time,” she said. “It’s not every day history is made. You should experience it when it happens.”

  I gave a short laugh. “Seems like these days, it is every day.”

  She tilted her head. “Hm.”

  ~

  Like we had so often since the Donner Declaration, my mother and I once again sat in front of the television. Press Secretary Speakes stood in front of the cameras and announced what everyone would come to call the Sovereign Compromise.

  Essentially, the United States declared the Sovereign people would have political status similar to Native Americans. Even though Donner wanted them to be separate from the laws of the country, they worked it out that no Sovereign could ever be declared less than human or less than citizens.

  The Sovereign nation, such as it was, would be led by Dr. William Karl Donner. No big surprise there. He would be the official arbitrator and representative when dealing with the government.

  Meanwhile, Donner agreed to make any information he had about Sovereign people, including where they came from, abilities, and any new discoveries, available to the government, and they would do the same.

  Finally, just like Donner had said in the Declaration, Sovereign people would be responsible for their own actions. Donner would put together a kind of police force to handle Sovereign people who broke laws of the United States. This same police force would be available to help the government if Sovereign types threatened national security.

  “Meet the new boss,” my mother mumbled.

  “Huh?”

  “This is a pretty strange arrangement, Nathan, don’t you think?” She shook her head at the television. “It’s almost like Donner backed down…”

  “But what…”

  “Shh!”

  A reporter had asked about the jurisdiction of this proposed Sovereign police force. Speakes replied they would solely be responsible for the actions of other Sovereign, and while they would work with local and national law enforcement agencies, they would answer to Dr. Donner and the Sovereign authorities.

  My mother laughed and shook her head. “Who watches the watchmen? It’s like the damn Justice Corps.”

  “You’re losing me, mom.”

  She looked at me. “In the fifties, before the comic books were put out of business by the Wertham Act, there was a funnybook where all the mystery men banded together to fight the bad guys. They called themselves the Justice Corps. Your Uncle Greg read them, and then he’d pass them on to me. There was one story where they all decided that, since they had these amazing powers and were dedicated to fighting evil and righting wrongs, they might as well take control of the country.”

  I looked at the television and got a little chill. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. The Wertham Act drove the funnybook and pulp publishers out of business. They never finished the story.” She shrugged. “Until now.”

  “I don’t know if the Sovereigns could take over the country.”

  “If Donner really is able to make whatever he thinks into reality, he could do it himself, Nathan.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I mean, if that’s the case, why are we even cooperating with him? Why haven’t we just stopped him somehow?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just know there has to be more going on here than we’re being told. There always is.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  “So, what do you think it’s gonna mean, like, for me?”

  “For you?”

  “Well, yeah. What’s it mean to be a Sovereign?’”

  She looked at the television. “Who ever said you were a Sovereign person, hot shot?”

  My mouth dropped open. “What? You’re the one who got all freaked out when this whole thing started going down, all worried that the government would come and try to do something to me! Why would they if I wasn’t a Sovereign?”

  She smiled like she thought she was clever. “The longer you deny you’re a Sovereign, the better chance you have of living a normal life. You don’t want to live on a reservation somewhere, do you?”

  “So, now I’m not a Sovereign?”

  “Not as far as these bastards are concerned,” she said. Her smile stiffened to a thin line. “It’s all about keeping you off the radar.”

  I thought about school, about the looks I’d been getting and the comments I heard in the halls. I thought about my essay for Pfalger, and my talk with Ms. Elp.

  “Um…”

  The phone rang. My mother got up and answered it.

  “Oh, hello, Ms. Elp.”

  I might as well have said “Bloody Mary” three times in the mirror. I sat up straight and strained to hear both ends of the conversation. I could do that, sometimes, if there was no other noise in the house. With the television on, I really didn’t stand a chance, and it would be a little conspicuous to turn it down.

  “No, it’s not that late – except for you; you’re burning some late oil… yes, as a matter of fact we’re watching it now.” My mother had her polite phone voice on, but as she listened, her face hardened and her tone darkened. “Of course you will. Right. Of course.” Her knuckles were white against the receiver.

  “I appreciate your doing that, Camille. Right. Good bye.”

  She hung up and glared at me.

  “What have you been telling them at school, Nathan?”

  Shit.

  “Nothing.”

  “Really.”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Then why would Ms. Elp call to assure me the school would do everything they could minimize any disruption the Sovereign Compromise might cause you?”

  She took a step toward me, her arms rigid at her sides. I hadn’t seen her mad like this for a really long time.

  “Why did she tell me that she’d work with me to make sure the school followed any regulations that came down in the coming weeks? Why did she go out of her way to call me at almost five thirty in the evening to tell me that Abbeque Valley High and the Abbeque Valley School District was committed to respecting your new status, whatever that would come to mean?”

  I stood up. I didn’t feel comfortable sitting down when she was like this. I mean, she had never hit me or anything, but I didn’t like how small I felt.

  “Mom…”

  “Well?”

  I spread my arms and shrugged. “I mean… look, she’s just assuming the obvious, right? I mean, it’s, like, totally clear I’m not like other kids. She knows – all the teachers know – that I’ve got stuff I can do that’s different from everybody else.” I sighed, exasperated. “Heck, mom, all you have to do is look at me!”

  She relaxed slightly. She couldn’t argue with the way I looked. “Well.” She crossed her arms, turned her head, and her eyes lost focus as she thought. “Well.” She looked at me. “Fine. But I don’t want you to admit to being anything other than homo sapiens. Don’t let anyone label you as Sovereign.”

  I nodded. “I don’t want anyone to treat me any different, mom. But between you and me, I probably am one of them, right? I mean, what other explanation is there?”

  She sat down on the couch. I sat down next to her. We looked at the television, which had switched to world reaction to the Sovereign Compromise.

  “We’ll have to wait and see,” she said with a sigh. “Nobody is forced to proclaim themselves one race or another in this country, so I can’t see them forcing you to register yourself...” She shook her head and frowned. “God help us if it comes to that, though.”

  We’d studied the Holocaust in school. I knew what she was getting at. “They wouldn’t do that.”

  She gave me a sympathetic look
. It was the kind of look you give a little kid when he says something cute.

  “Well, they wouldn’t!”

  “We’d better hope so.” She slapped her knees and stood up. “I think it’s time to get cracking on this stuff.”

  “What… what do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” She tapped the tip of her chin with an index finger. “Monday, though, I think I’m going to make some calls.”

  “To who?” She was making me a little nervous.

  “The ACLU, for starters,” she said. “I’ve got some friends. They can give me some idea of what’s going on out there.” She pointed at the television. “Over there.”

  “Oh.”

  The phone rang again. My mother answered it. “Hello? Yes, hold on.” She pointed to me with the receiver. “It’s Lina.”

  I shot off the couch and scooped the phone from my mother.

  “Hey!”

  “Hey yourself!” I heard a smile in her voice, and it made me happy. “Are you busy tonight, boyfriend?”

  That word still brought out a little involuntary chuckle out of me. “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “There’s a party at my friend Car’s house,” she said. “I’ve been wanting you to meet him, and stuff. You wanna?”

  “Well, sure!”

  “Cool. You can call Mel and Jason, see if they want to, too. Those boys need to get out of the house.”

  I laughed. “Yeah they do. Lemme check… hold on, okay?”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she said.

  I cupped the mouthpiece with one hand. “Mom. Is it alright if I go out with Lina tonight?”

  “Tonight..?” She looked at the television. People were lighting cars on fire in some city somewhere.

  I frowned. “Mom. It’s here, you know?”

  She frowned right back. “When were you expecting to be home?”

  “Well, it’s Friday night…”

  “Just when, Nathan? Give me something.”

  “Um… one?”

  She stared at me just long enough, I thought I’d made a ridiculous request. I was gearing up to give ground by an hour when she said, “One o’clock. And it’s you and Lina? Where?”