Slaves of Pangaea: The Second Nick Wolfe Sci Fi Adventure (Nick Wolfe Adventure Series Book 2)

by Ross H Henderson

  “This is where we created and developed our nanobots, where we heal the real healers. They are small, even by nanobot standards, but they are self-improving by design. They have developed surprising autonomy and decision-making abilities, but are ultimately a hive mind, most of which is housed in the towers you see behind me. It’s the best of both worlds, intelligent beings united toward a common cause.”

  “What’s behind the towers?”

  “A few developmental milestones and past experiments.”

  “Do we have time to see them?”

  Gretchen broke up the Q & A session, “Mr. Kronos, you have a reception to get ready for.”

  Kronos appreciated Gretchen giving him the out, but he waved it off, “It won’t take long, my dear.”

  Despite her all-business demeanor, Gretchen liked Josh and Nick. She didn’t want them in a position of having seen too much, but Kronos would not be stopped from putting his genius on display. Maybe now would be the time to announce it to the world.

  The lighting for the remaining 50 feet of the room was turned on, revealing eight cylindrical glass containers, each about five feet in diameter and eight feet tall, filled with a pinkish fluid. There was an apparatus dangling into the fluid, presumably for taking various measurements. One of the cylinders had a body in it, not moving, but apparently breathing the fluid. It was a male, with no hair, but otherwise looked like a normal adult. The visitors were taken aback by how much the being looked like Rik Kronos.

  Taylor asked the question this time, “Is that a clone?”

  Kronos still had the answers, “Not in a matter of speaking, but essentially, yes, it is.”

  “But instead of being raised from cells, it was created by your nanobots.”

  “That’s right. If the basic building blocks of life are available on a cellular level, my nanos can locate them and build them according to the instructions given by a tissue’s DNA. Plus they have an understanding of how the parts fit together, so to speak, that no scientist or doctor could ever hope to possess. Their intelligence has increased exponentially since the research started being done on the island. No government agencies or regulations to get in the way. Technically, Pangaea is a sovereign nation of its own.”

  Wolfe, caught up in the conversation, remembered he should write things like this down to keep up his appearance as a reporter and started jotting down notes.

  “Like I said, they are not technically clones, but there are no genetic, cellular, or physical differences between them and a traditional clone, except they do not age and die prematurely. With this in mind, I still call them clones. By extension this would be a blastocyst.”

  Taylor asked,“Why? You seem to have enough recruits on the island. From what I understand you’ve had no shortage of volunteers even from the beginning.”

  “That’s true. No, the reason is the medical research. I wanted to see if there were any limits on what the nanos could recreate, so I let them develop as much as they could from a small piece of my own tissue. They created a full clone of me. As long as he’s in the tank he is technically unborn, and he won’t have consciousness until I have him activated. That is, when I have the nanos complete those parts of his brain where consciousness is formed. I’m not sure what to do with him, but if you’re wondering, I’m not keeping him around for spare parts or anything so immoral.”

  “I have no doubt of that. Besides, I can’t see that working better than what we saw an hour ago.”

  “You are correct, Mr. Taylor.”

  Gretchen had seen Rik Kronos in tour guide mode before, but never like this. As secretive as he normally was, he jumped at the opportunity to share his scientific and social accomplishments with someone who could appreciate them, if not help the world to appreciate them. She took the opportunity to remind Kronos about the dinner event that evening and that he really should wrap up the guided tour.

  Chapter 10

  “That was very impressive, but I think we should remember why we’re here,” Taylor said on the way back to the guest quarters.

  “Yeah, we need to get Stephen Evans out of here soon,” agreed Wolfe.

  “It should be easy enough to find him. Everything is so organized.”

  As Josh had guessed, Stephen was extremely easy to find. A touch-screen kiosk gave his exact location in the commissary in the same building. The two went there and had a quick dinner while waiting for Evans to finish his. Stephen was easy to pick out: tall and thin like his father, blond-haired and blue-eyed. The trademark Evans spiky hair was now slicked back. He didn’t have the swaggering confidence that both men had grown used to with his father. In fact, he looked tired and beaten. They followed him back to his quarters. Before he walked in, they stopped him and called his name. He didn’t answer at first, but turned toward them when he heard his name again. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?” asked Taylor.

  “Yes, of course,” replied Stephen.

  “Your father sent us to make sure … and to bring you home.”

  “Who is my father?”

  After a few seconds of stunned silence, Wolfe answered, “Tristan Evans.”

  “No, that’s not right. I know he shares the surname on my ID badge, and about half of my DNA, but Rik Kronos is my father. He’s more, and because of him I am more. All of us are. We are all Kronos.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  “Well, not really. Sorry to have bothered you.”

  What was clear to both men was that they could not take Stephen back to his father like that. They had to go back to the lab if they could and try to figure out what had been done to brainwash Tristan Evans’ son so thoroughly.

  “We could go to the lab tonight,” Wolfe offered as they headed back to their own building, “We both know that Kronos is at that dinner event.”

  “I don’t know, Nick. We don’t know what kind of security system there is down there. Let’s talk to Gretchen about Stephen tomorrow, and maybe talk with a few of the other recruits. We may find out that Stephen is just nuts all on his own.”

  Wolfe reluctantly agreed. He had much to think about anyway: nanobots that repair the body with the ability to create clones; memory chips that restore memory, but yet Stephen Evans barely seemed to remember his own name, let alone the fact his father was one of the most powerful men in the world. Maybe Stephen had been injured and no one was aware he needed help. Maybe all he needed was to get a reboot from one of KronosKorp’s magic brain chips.

  Chapter 11

  Taylor and Wolfe went to their separate rooms, each with their own game plans to follow in the morning. Taylor would go out among the population and ask questions about Bailey, Stephen Evans, and life in general on Pangaea. Meanwhile Wolfe, keeping with his cover as the “technology journalist,” would meet with Gretchen and compare the medical histories of Evans and Bailey.

  Wolfe’s questions kept him up late and woke him up early. At 4:30 a.m., he decided to take a walk around the island. It was a beautiful place. Maybe a little over-manicured, but the ocean view and salt air were just what he needed to clear his head. The jogging trails and obstacle courses were flat and not challenging. That Bailey kid must have been really clumsy to break his arm on a course like this. Maybe it was a different course. Maybe …

  “Mr. Wolfe, I hardly expected to see you out here.” It was Gretchen Brooks, out for a run.

  “Were you hoping to see Josh?”

  “Does it show that easily?”

  “Yeah, but it’s okay. I’m surprised to be out here too, but what’s the good of reporting on a beautiful island if you can’t get out and enjoy it at least once before heading home?”

  “Indeed. I don’t know how much of what you’ve written will make it into print, but Mr. Kronos seems to like you, so who knows? Maybe the world is ready to learn what he’s been doing to save mankind, both on this world and among the stars.”

  “I had actually planned to call you at a more respectable hour. I wanted to see any medic
al footage that exists of Peter Bailey and if there is any, of Stephen Evans.”

  “Why Stephen Evans?”

  “Well, as you’re aware, he is the son of Tristan Evans, the owner of our magazine. I promised him I would check on his son while I’m here. Last night I ran into Stephen and he barely recognized his own name or that of his father.”

  “Okay, we can do that this morning. I have to meet Mr. Kronos at lunch today, but I’m free until then.”

  ***

  Taylor started his own fact-finding mission around 6am, heading to the commissary to people watch. They were all civil to each other, though no one genuinely seemed to enjoy the company of others. They seemed afraid. But scared of what? They were protected against any kind of injury or sickness, and they were being trained for the jobs of a lifetime. Weird.

  He avoided direct eye contact with the recruits whenever possible, but found it increasingly difficult to do so. Before long they noticed him; then they were staring at him. All of them. All activity in the cafeteria ceased. Finally, one of the more athletic Pangaeans, a 6’3” living statue of a man with bronze skin and slicked back, sun-bleached hair, approached his table and spoke up, “Are you Kronos?”

  Taylor chuckled, “Am I starting to look like a pudgy white guy to any of you?”

  No one else was laughing.

  “Tough room,” Taylor quipped. “No, seriously, I’m just a visitor who stopped by to relax for a minute and see how they do things here in Pangaea. My name’s Josh.”

  “Well, Josh, I think it’s time you left.”

  “No thanks, Surfer Boy. I think I’ll stay a while longer. I hear the pancakes are really good here.”

  The newly christened “Surfer Boy” put his hand on the table where Josh was sitting and leaned in.

  “No, Josh. I really think …”

  “You have three seconds to back off before I mop the floor of this place with your face.”

  With that, Surfer Boy stepped back quickly, stood up straight, and readied himself for action. His stance betrayed a lack of fighting experience. Man, this guy stands like he’s never been in a fight in his life, Taylor thought. Either he knows something I don’t or he has no idea what he’s up against.

  Taylor asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Surfer was clearly out of his depth but was not about to back down in front of his peers, so he answered by swinging wildly. He was quick, but telegraphed his moves badly. Taylor easily ducked his roundhouse right, and had a clear shot at the right half of Surfer’s head if he wanted it. Taylor could see he was so off balance he was about to fall over, so he pushed him the rest of the way with his hand, sending him harmlessly down on his side.

  One of the onlookers laughed slightly, and the mood went from bad to worse. Surfer was enraged at being embarrassed. Taylor let him get to his feet to be as fair as possible to him, before following through on his promise. He knew it was no use trying to defuse the situation—if he showed weakness at this point, the whole room might come after him. Besides the psychology of the situation, Josh was no longer amused and decided to put an end to it as quickly as possible.

  So far Taylor’s moves had all been defensive, backing up and dodging, but this time he waited until Surfer took a few slow steps and punched him right in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. The look of shock and fear on his face was like a youngster who had never had the wind knocked out of him before. His groans were comical, but he couldn’t help it. All he could think of was getting air.

  “Can we stop this now?” Taylor asked. “I’m not Kronos, and neither are you.”

  “Yes, we are,” said another one of the Pangaeans.

  “We are all Kronos.”

  “You mind telling me what that means?”

  Chapter 12

  At the hospital, Gretchen dialed up the footage of Peter Bailey and they watched him wake up.

  “There! See how Peter wakes up looking like he’s ready to take on the world, but as soon as he gets his bearings, he looks disappointed, even sad. Hardly the reaction one would expect from waking up in one piece after breaking an arm.”

  Gretchen was stoic, but only on the surface, as if trying in vain to stay objective, “What are you getting at?”

  “I’m not sure. I noticed it when I was there, but I chalked it off to disorientation. He looks like he lost something valuable. I don’t know. Let’s see Stephen’s footage.”

  As it happened, Stephen fainted shortly after arriving at Pangaea. It wasn’t treated as a serious event, but there was footage of him waking up. He rose up quickly, looked around and then at his hands and his own naked body, and the same look of disappointment washed over his features. He then lay back down, apparently resigned to his fate.

  Wolfe attempted to work things out, “I don’t get it. Why go through the trouble of operating on Stephen for a simple fainting spell? To look at him in this video, you’d think he broke his arm too, or worse … and why record the results? It’s like … an experiment.”

  As he paced around the room, Wolfe absently started snooping around, looking in drawers, under desks, and trying any door that would open. He came to a door with the word “Supplies” spray-painted in black stencil letters. It looked the most like a lowly broom closet of anything else in the room. All the other doors had very official looking plaques on them.

  Nick tried the doorknob and found it to be locked. There was no scan plate on the side, none of the usual high security technology found on most of the doors in the building. He picked the lock with some small tools he had with him, and the door was open.

  It was just a small closet, with a few brooms and an empty rolling mop bucket. Gretchen had a hunch something else was there, and she stopped Nick as he was about to close the door to the closet and move on.

  “Wait!”

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’d like to look at the back wall of that closet.”

  “Okay, be my guest.”

  Gretchen slid her hands around the corners and walls of the closet, but found nothing. She sighed, “I guess it’s nothing, but I thought it would lead somewhere, like a secret door. Pretty dumb, huh?” Nick had seen more than a few secret doors, and told her not to be embarrassed for playing a hunch, especially when there was nothing to lose by doing so. He shared Gretchen’s sense of doubt about this closet being what it seemed.

  “Hang on a second,” he said as he ushered Gretchen into the closet with him. Nothing happened. There was no electric eye or hidden button to be seen. The two looked at each other, then at the door. They closed themselves inside the closet and heard two beeps.

  The back wall slid apart, revealing a basic freight-style elevator, with a safety railing that pulled across the opening of the car. They walked in and it went down about 50 feet, into an enormous laboratory. Computers and several work stations were up front, but the back was hidden in darkness.

  As the pair ventured farther back they saw hundreds of giant glass cylinders, all about eight feet tall and filled with a pinkish liquid. Nick guessed there were enough to hold every inhabitant of the island. When they got closer they could see the bodies in the containers, silhouetted by the viscous pink fluid. Nick found the light switch to the tanks and lit them up. Despite the distortion caused by the curve of the thick glass, the faces were more recognizable as they floated closer to the front of the glass.

  “It’s Peter Bailey!” Gretchen exclaimed, stepping back in horror. “It’s all true.”

  “What do you mean? Gretchen, have you been operated on since coming to the island?”

  Her face went white. She broke away, running down seemingly endless rows of pink cylinders, looking frantically.

  “What are you doing?” Nick shouted.

  “I have to see! I have to know!”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, but he already knew the answer. She already knew what she was looking for, and once she found it, he would know too.

  Nick caugh
t up with Gretchen, who was on her knees with her head down, in front of a tube containing a young woman who looked exactly like her. She rose up, eyes full of tears, and threw up a hand, gesturing toward the tank. She sniffled and said, “Nick Wolfe, meet Gretchen Brooks … the real Gretchen Brooks.”

  Nick let Gretchen calm down and began, “Okay, let’s start at the top. You have been operated on. What happened?”

  “I was tired and dehydrated after a long day at the hospital and they told me I passed out.”

  “But you woke up on the table?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what will I see if we bring up your reawakening on-screen? The same disappointment?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll think I’m insane if I tell you.”

  “I’m looking for any answers I can find. Try me.”

  “Okay, this may not come out right, but here goes. At first I thought it was just some weird delusion I shared with a handful of people. At first I could only remember being Rik Kronos, but then my own memories came back in addition. Most of them, anyway. I couldn’t remember what my parents looked like, and I don’t have many memories from before high school. After seeing this footage, I think it’s everyone on the island, with varying degrees of acceptance.”

  “Acceptance? Of what?”

  “It’s Rik Kronos’ plan to control everyone here and all KronosKorp’s people in space. In his younger days he created a brain chip that helped restore memories to the old, and eventually to create new realities for the young. He is using this chip to implant his knowledge into our brains in addition to our own.”

  “How?” Nick frowned.

  “The nanobots aren’t just capable of creating clones. That’s their only purpose. That’s why people are made to sign away the rights to their own DNA. It’s not so they can re-grow limbs and fight disease. Everyone ‘treated’ at Pangaea General is killed and replaced with a clone implanted with two memory chips: one with most of their DNA donor’s memory, and one with Rik Kronos’ knowledge and a few of his memories—enough for someone to excel at his or her job—and to have an understanding of his or her place in Kronos’ society. In a way, his plan was to ‘be’ everyone to ensure total loyalty and maximum efficiency, as he sees it. Everyone has his job in mind, but each one is an individual with Kronos’ intelligence and skills. It’s the perfect macrocosm of the hive mind mentality of his nanobots, but I don’t know if he counted on so many of his memories and plans being imprinted on them … on the clones … on us … on me.”