by Philip Elrod
It was not going to be easy to get Tanaka II through adulthood and prepare him for the task he had been born to perform. But Maxx would see to it. Over time, the computer began to experience a new emotion. He was becoming fond of the young Tanaka II. Could it be that he might be beginning to love this earthling? Could a computer actually have these feelings?
Maxx was in the process, almost without realizing it himself, of creating an emotional module.
Over time, Maxx gradually gave the young human more and more information. Sometimes it was through vivid dreams that he could not erase from his mind. He dreamed of a great civilization and the dangers they faced. He learned of the transporter, and eventually, how he alone could save it. Somehow, he knew that these dreams were not just dreams at all. They seemed to answer many confusing questions that had troubled him for a long time.
Maxx had the technical ability to read Mylean thoughts, but he was prohibited from doing so without the subject’s express consent. The voice had been very careful to keep this information from the boy, but, eventually, even this secret was revealed.
The young man had often wondered about the privacy of his thoughts and had eventually asked the voice about it. The response had been purposely vague and obtuse.
Obviously, the youth had been able to use this response to figure out how to block access to his thoughts somehow. Maxx soon conceded that his young lad was quite clever, and he experienced another new feeling, pride. He was proud of this young Tanaka II even though his behavior often left a great deal to be desired.
Now, Maxx was prevented from reading Tanaka II’s mind more and more frequently. For Maxx, it was an alarming situation. He would have to improvise a method for making sure all contact would not be lost. He could not risk asking his subject directly as it might make their connection deteriorate even further.
Slowly, very slowly, the computer would divulge more secrets to the young man. He tempted his ward with vast riches and power, but he seemed to have little interest in such things. The human part of him was indeed very clever and had methodically, over a span of time, manipulated Maxx into just the right position. He had come to understand and appreciate his substantial power over the voice and that he could control situations. When he was ready, he would make a deal with the voice, and it would not be able to refuse his request.
At last, the time was right. The voice had become desperate. Tanaka II continued to block the voice from his mind for long periods of time. Now, he would make his demands known, and when he did, Maxx had to acknowledge that this mere human had matured into the perfect image of the original Tanaka.
He spoke with the voice, “To start with, I want a small scale version of you. There’ll be some other essentials to go along with that, but I’m sure you can handle everything without a problem. Of course, my version will require its home spacecraft and sufficient remote craft to protect and supply it. And, of course, I will require a craft suitable for use in visiting my property, which will be kept permanently out in space.”
The voice had immediately agreed, “You shall have your request in full. I will be prepared to deliver all upon my arrival.”
Then, thinking to himself, Maxx mused about the irony, “Tanaka created me, and I created Tanaka II to fulfill a desperate need. Tanaka II could have anything he desired as a reward, and he chooses me, or at least a version of me.”
He experienced another emotion: flattery. He was flattered by the request. Suddenly, Maxx came to realize that he must have some means of suppressing and controlling these new feelings. He desired to be equal to a biological being in all ways, but he also wanted to retain his obvious superiority as well. Emotions could be a problem. He must devise a means to use them, but he had to be able to control them at the same time. Emotions should not be allowed to overrule rationality when making decisions.
Tanaka II was now a mature adult, at an age that most humans considered to be old. However, he did not consider himself old at all. At age sixty-eight, he was still very healthy and had the stamina and energy of men half his age. He considered that to be completely normal for him and never thought much about the fact that he might be part Mylean. He never thought of himself as anything other than human. As least not yet.
He gave much thought to the highly anticipated meeting with Maxx. He had long ago learned the name of “the voice” that had been talking to him all those years. He had pressed Maxx for information on a continuing basis and by now had a pretty good idea of what his assistance to Maxx involved and why it was so important.
He knew his DNA had been manipulated before his birth, and he knew why it had been done. However, he still considered himself to be completely human, and there was no significant evidence to dispute that.
All of those things that had happened to him as a result of talking to the voice were simply accepted as the work of Maxx. He scarcely noted that his stamina, particularly his breathing, had always been much greater than his peers. As a young swimmer he discovered he could stay under water for much longer than anyone else. But he never wanted to be singled out, so he did not overly flaunt his capability.
The oxygen level on Mylea was little more than half that of Earth, so Mylean lungs had evolved to be much more efficient than those of humans in extracting oxygen from the air. He could have stayed under the water much longer than he ever did.
Tanaka II did not want Maxx’s arrival to startle the world, so he devised a complex plan of how Maxx was to arrive in our solar system. Further, precisely how that arrival was to be detected. His plan involved a very few carefully selected individuals and a carefully orchestrated chain of events.
Maxx protested that it was ridiculously complex and unnecessary, but Tanaka II was adamant. So Maxx relented and set it up as instructed. He would do anything to get this Earthling to perform his one small task.
Finally, the interstellar transporter craft arrived at the outer edge of Earth’s solar system.
Part Two
Casting the Players
Chapter 4
The Starring Role
“A great play requires the right cast.” - Anonymous
Jim Slater looked forward to having his lunch at the National Mall. His favorite spot, near the middle of The Mall and across from the Smithsonian, was always a great place for relaxing and getting some fresh air.
For the past few weeks, work had been rather slow for Jim, and he was getting somewhat bored. It just seemed that his assignments of late had been contrived just to give him something to do.
His job, assistant to the national security advisor for scientific matters, was quite a mouthful. His superior, Matthew Walker, Ph.D., frequently joked that their work was similar to that of an airline pilot, “Hours of tedium punctuated by moments of sheer terror." After two years on the job, Jim was more than willing to trade the tedium for something more exciting and challenging.
Jim was a graduate of the United States Naval Academy in nearby Annapolis, Maryland. He had always loved history, particularly American history, and, during his student days at the academy, he had spent several weekends in Washington. He came to love this beautiful city at the heart of American democracy and decided that, someday, he would call it home.
On some of these weekends, he would convince a fellow student or a date to come along, but none of them ever seemed to have his level of interest in the history of the area. Finally, Jim realized that he’d be better off alone instead of putting up with a companion who would much rather be checking out the bars and nightlife.
Jim loved the museums and monuments, but his favorite place of all was the National Mall. It had originally been designed to be a grand boulevard with the Capitol on the eastern end and the Washington Monument on the western end.
Jim never tired of strolling the mall, no matter what the weather or season. He took pleasure in watching the chattering tourists from around the world who were relentlessly photographing everything in sight. It seemed that they were far more interested in
recording their visit with selfies to show their friends back home than to think about the history portrayed here. Would any one of them even think of the rebellious colonials who gave their lives to fight for freedom from the British crown? Probably not.
There were occasionally a few who seemed immersed in thought and respect. They took the time to study their guidebooks and discuss the history among themselves. Usually, they were at least of middle age and had probably lived long enough and worked hard enough to appreciate how much they were blessed to live in such a free and democratic nation.
Jim loved to think of George Washington and his rag-tag Continental Army. The proud and sometimes arrogant British commanders couldn’t possibly believe that his group of rebels could send them home in defeat. After all, the upstarts didn’t even have a real national government. There was no national military. Not even an established financial system. They certainly seemed to do everything by the seat of their pants. How could they stand against the handsomely dressed and well organized British Army, backed up and supplied by the Navy with all their resources and skills?
The well-disciplined British were stunned and probably insulted by these upstarts who didn’t hesitate to use guerilla warfare tactics to win their battles. The rebels would lie in wait and attack from hidden positions. They certainly weren’t trained in battlefield tactics. Or, so they thought.
The British were confident that these misfits could be beaten into submission quickly, and life in the colonies would return to normal. After all, the British had the finest military with well-trained officers of the highest caliber. The British government was strong and well-financed. Their Navy ruled the waves. What could go wrong?
Who could have predicted that the strong-willed Americans would survive brutal winters, near starvation, and a serious shortage of essential supplies and achieve ultimate victory?
The difference was probably the fact that the Americans had a cause. They were fighting for their freedom and weren’t afraid to make any and all sacrifices to achieve their goal.
Yes, Jim did love the entire colonial states area and liked to visit the historic towns and battle sites. Philadelphia, New York, and Boston all had their rich history, but Washington was his first love. There was no end of places to visit and things to do. In winter months, or if the weather were bad, he would visit his favorite museums, the National Air and Space Museum, and the Smithsonian. There was so much to learn there that he would never tire of visiting.
Also, there was always time for fun with so many bars and pubs filled with gregarious students or young professionals who could be counted on to provide uninhibited entertainment.
Jim’s favorite time of the year in the city was during the height of the cherry blossom season when the trees that lined the mall were at their most glorious. Simply incredible! Even the most jaded of politicians could not help but be impressed and humbled by this treasured area at its most beautiful time.
Now that he lived and worked in D.C., he could visit the mall whenever he liked, and that was often. His office was in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building. A very impressive address but Jim’s office was not much larger than a large walk-in closet and sparsely furnished.
At least he didn’t have to share space with anyone else, and he did have a window. Several times a week he would order his lunch to be delivered from Jimmy John’s, a nearby sandwich shop. As soon as it arrived, he would hop a cab to his favorite area of the mall, find a vacant park bench, and enjoy the ever-changing action around him.
There was always a mishmash of joggers, mothers with strollers, tourists, and scraggly ex-hippies on their way to protest something or anything.
Then there might be idealistic young enthusiasts heading to a rally in support of something or anything.
You name it, it was here.
****
Jim would have preferred to walk to the mall, but the distance from his office made it too far for his lunch break. He had taken the metro a few times but had come to prefer using a taxi, even though the trip was short. Over time, he had struck up an acquaintance with one cab driver in particular. His name was Rudy. Jim and Rudy had an unspoken agreement regarding the noontime trips. Rudy almost always made sure that he was available for Jim, and Jim, in turn, showed his appreciation by adding a substantial tip to make up for the relatively small fare.
Rudy was from Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. He had immigrated to the United States after being subject to political and economic upheavals in his country. He had a mellifluous voice that sounded a little like the actor Morgan Freeman. He admitted to Jim, on one occasion, that he had seen almost all Morgan Freeman's movies more than once and had spent a great deal of time learning to emulate his near perfect speech.
Rudy was proud of his American citizenship and loved to talk about all things American, especially football. He was a devout Redskins fan and proudly boasted that he had held season tickets for many years even though it was an expense that he could hardly afford.
Jim always wondered where the name “Rudy” came from thinking that, just maybe, his original name was difficult to pronounce; or, just maybe, Rudy was his very own name. Hmm, no matter. He might ask someday and, then again, maybe he wouldn't as he did enjoy even the tiniest of mysteries.
When the cab arrived, Jim opened the door and got in the front seat. Rudy tipped his ever-present baseball cap exposing the gray hair that contrasted with his dark features. He gave a broad smile and laughed. “Hey there, I just traded calls with another driver to get this gig! I didn't want to miss our lunchtime trip to the mall."
Jim was always appreciative of Rudy's outgoing personality and sense of humor. That happy attitude was infectious. No matter how boring or frustrating his day had been, he could always trust Rudy to make it better. Even Rudy's garishly colored shirts would bring a smile! The cab was always filled with Afro-Cuban music as usual. The music made you want to get out and dance. Jim leaned back in his seat and suddenly realized that his foot was softly tapping in time to the happy beat.
“Hey, Rudy! Let's head for the mall!”
Rudy laughed in response and pulled into the traffic of D.C. going towards 17th Street NW. As he did, Rudy picked up their conversation where it had left off on their last trip. He got emotional about the Redskins attempt to beef up their offensive line to protect their new young quarterback sensation who had opted for the NFL draft early. Jim interrupted Rudy in the midst of his endless ode to Redskins football. “Hey, man, with a voice like that, you could be in show biz."
Rudy turned to him, winked and replied, “When you drive a cab in D.C., it is show biz."
Rudy eased to a stop on Madison Avenue to allow Jim to get out. “See you in an hour, my friend, and I will explain to you how that rookie from Baylor is going to be a real star quarterback. SOON!”
Jim quickly paid Rudy, waved, and said, “See you later. I’ll be expecting a full discourse on the new quarterback."
Rudy turned up the volume of the music, touched his hat in salute, and quickly disappeared into the frantic noontime traffic.
Jim breathed in deeply being very appreciative of the luxury that these outdoor lunchtimes afforded him. He stretched his arms to embrace the rays of the sun. Looking around he headed to a vacant bench that offered him a great view of the surroundings.
The passing people could be counted on to provide endless entertainment and speculation. He liked to guess where they might be from, what they were talking about, and what they might be up to (after all, this was Washington).
He sat down on a sunlit bench and immediately detected a rather distinctive aroma that was rising from his lunch container. He had ordered a salami sandwich, which, although tasty, significantly stimulated the olfactory department.
He opened the wrapper of the sandwich and began to eat. It tasted quite good, and he even liked the chips that accompanied his sandwich.
There didn’t seem to be many interesting people around today, but he didn’t care, although he
did look forward to seeing “the old man” who had shared the park bench with him on several occasions. The gentleman was always nattily attired in a conservative suit and tie even in the summertime. He invariably wore a fresh flower in his lapel, giving him a genteel air not frequently seen in Washington these days.
The old man was a mystery to Jim. Sometimes, he seemed to be the perfect Southern gentleman from days long gone. At other times, he had an air of timelessness, that of someone who had seen and experienced much. Then, on at least one occasion, he revealed deep interest and knowledge of history, astronomy, and physics. Was he a retired professor? The old man never talked about his personal life. A mystery. Why did he pick Jim for these visits? Another mystery. He was like a wraith, suddenly appearing from nowhere and then poof—he was gone again.
On this particular day, the old man did not appear. A few joggers passed. Further away were a couple of teenagers tossing a Frisbee back and forth. Jim leaned back on the bench with his face turned upward to catch some sun. He allowed his thoughts to wander and to think about the path that had led him to this place and time.
****
Jim had grown up in northeastern Georgia. His natural intelligence and thirst for knowledge made it easy for him to coast through high school with little effort. As a result, he graduated with a GPA near 4.0. He also had scored in the top 1% of the SAT.
Jim was a natural athlete and excelled in sports. He could have had a scholarship at several leading universities with his top grades and leadership skills.
He was an Eagle Scout and had never had a single brush with the law. Well, there was that one time. He participated in a raid on a neighboring farm where he and a few friends stole deliciously ripe watermelons. Unfortunately, the miscreants were caught with the evidence and hauled down to the local police station.