Aethon Arises (Endless Fire Book 2)

by R E Kearney

  With a grimace and an audible groan, Negocio watches an internal combustion engine vehicle approach and pass them heading the opposite direction. He sniffs the air, snorting as if the vehicle had filled the city with fumes. Exaggerating his discomfort at the vehicle’s engine noise, he covers his ears.

  With his hands still protecting his hearing, Negocio instructs the auto-auto. “Play Lamento Borincano by Marc Anthony.”

  As the music begins, he uncovers his ears and describes the music to Robert. “This is one of my favorite old songs. It was originally written by composer Rafael Hernández Marín in 1929. In his song, he describes the harsh conditions impoverished Puerto Rican farmers had to face on a daily basis. So long ago, but still a lot of similarities to today. My favorite part is the last line when he sings Yo te adoro, Puerto Rico, y eso nadie lo va a quitar, which roughly translates to, I adore you, Puerto Rico, and no one can take that away.”

  “I imagine you would agree with Bob Marley, who said that one good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.” Robert reinforces Negocio.

  Negocio smiles. “True. No pain here. I’m alive in my Puerto Rico or as Raul Labrador once said, I'm proud of who I am, and I'm proud I grew up in Puerto Rico.”

  Negocio closes his eyes and leans back to enjoy the music. Having him cease his rat-a-tat chatter for a few moments is a welcome relief for Robert. He rests his ears while engaging his mind. With Negocio not talking, this is a perfect time for some mental meandering. Like most gig workers these days, he never has time for vacations. He cannot afford them. He simply takes short breaks between assignments. This is his first visit to Puerto Rico, probably his only visit. So why not enjoy this Caribbean escape?

  As they noiselessly glide above the seaside street of Avenida Luis Munoz Rivera, Robert watches the Atlantic Ocean’s waves slap the shore. Surging in and slipping out. Rushing and retreating. Flooding and flowing. Hypnotic. Relaxing. But, Robert is an analyzer. He never just sees. He witnesses.

  Spellbound by the sea, his mind wanders - drifts in and out with the tide. With the water he momentarily slips away, happily escapes today for yesterday. He envisions the island as it once was, pristine and pure. He imagines how relieved and happy Christopher Columbus and his Spanish sailors must have been to see this lush island. After so many months at sea, finally land and safety. They must have rejoiced at finding fresh water, trees, grass, food and a protected bay. After months of stormy seas, Columbus dropped anchor and completed his second ocean crossing. Robert wonders if they thought they had found the paradise of Eden.

  Still absorbing his music, Negocio remains silent. His eyes are closed. Hector is also enjoying a relaxing, semi-sleep swim in the soft guitar sounds and singing.

  Massaging his wound from his Africa attack, Robert envies them their tranquility. He hopes he will also be able to enjoy a little serenity in this Puerto Rican paradise. Too much of the time, his mind is as turbulent and troubled as the storming seas Columbus crossed. So much of the reality he knows is disappearing. The world is changing too fast to understand, even for a cyber citizen like him, and he is a person who can be held responsible for changing it.

  Abruptly, Robert’s peacefulness ends. Zipping in from behind, a drone pops up next to his window. A small turret on its top rotates toward him. Is it a camera or a laser? Laser!

  Instinctively, Robert leaps into the seat next to Negocio shielding him from the drone. Startled, Negocio squirms and slowly begins opening his eyes. A searing, bright light flashes. Zip, the threatening drone disappears, racing away ahead of a police drone.

  Just as fast as he jumped next to Negocio, Robert hops back into his own seat. Quickly looking away from Negocio, he returns to studying the seashore scenery. He is embarrassed by his panic. Yet, he remains unsettled. Did he just witness, the graphene blocking a laser shot? In Puerto Rico for less than twenty-four hours and already under attack, twice. He does not consider this a good beginning.

  After chasing away their menace, the San Juan police drone settles into position just outside Negocio’s window. Awakening, Negocio waves toward the drone. A green light on the drone’s side flickers as acknowledgement. On the opposite side a second police drone flies into escort position. Robert notes the drones’ significant array of laser weapons. He determines they are sufficiently armed to provide formidable protection.

  All is not peaceful in Puerto Rico.

  POOR RICH PORT

  Fully awake now, Negocio is also enjoying viewing the ocean, but he regards the kissing of sea and shore as a proud Puerto Rican, not as a Canadian tourist. He shatters the silence with his purely Puerto Rican observation. “You know Robert, Christopher Columbus didn’t really discover America, he discovered Puerto Rico. We were here long before they were there. In 1493, the indigenous Tainos of this island met him with open arms and open hearts and he enslaved and raped them. History proves that some things never change when it comes to outsiders and our islands. America never treated us much better.”

  “Play Yo soy Boricua, pa'que tu lo sepas!" Negocio orders as the song, Lamento Borincanto ends. “This is another of my favorites. Tainos called this island Boricua, just so you know. It means, I’m Puerto Rican. Of course, I’m a proud Puerto Rican.”

  “Yes sir, I’ve heard that about you.” Robert snidely remarks, before he puffs out his chest. “Well, I’m proud I’m Canadian. As actor Daniel Gillies once said, ‘tell people you're a Canadian or a Kiwi when you travel and they'll adore you.’ I appreciate adoration.”

  Where Calle Norzagaray replaces the Avenida Rivera, the ocean view is abruptly blocked by the stout stone walls of historic Castillo de San Cristobal and the tourists surrounding it. After hundreds of years, silent San Cristobal is still standing guard. Stoically, protecting San Juan. Of course, mankind goes nowhere without making war, Robert mulls. From the beginning of time until now, man is always fighting with himself. Clubs to cannon to cyber. Now digital death. Civilization is still so far from civilized.

  Mankind will also always have poverty, he realizes as the proud, strong Castillo de San Cristobal gives way to a section of crumbling, slum housing. Squeezed into a low spot below the street’s cliff and the rising Caribbean, surging seawaters surround and swamp the row of houses nearest the ocean. Higher up on the beach, the ramshackle houses stand on rotting wooden stilts, out of the water’s reach, for the moment. Floating trash, rubbish and garbage swirls between the collapsing shacks. Blight blocking beauty.

  “I see you’re staring at La Perla, Robert. Hard to imagine something looking that bad is actually called the pearl. Ironic, isn’t it? Still, looks can be deceiving. The La Perla neighborhood may not look like much, but the people living there refuse to live anywhere else, even with the rising sea threatening to wash it all away. When I tried to clean it up, I almost started a small war. My advice to you, though, is stay out of there. Most of the time, La Perla residents are no problem, but it’s also a haven for drug dealers, smugglers and other criminals.”

  “La Perla looks like something from last century. I understand, of course, that you keep your oldest buildings for tourists. But, almost everything that I’ve seen here so far, looks out of date…behind the times.”

  “That’s because it is Robert. Most of Puerto Rico is so far behind.” Negocio sadly shakes his head. “And just think, Puerto Rico is Spanish for rich port. It’s a poor rich port. Just look at those shacks. Look at those people sitting there with nothing to do. No work. No future. The majority of my people are just subsisting. They’re Sists barely able to meet their day to day needs. I’m fighting to improve their lives and save Puerto Rico. Raise my people above those rising seas of poverty. I will do whatever is necessary.”

  “Blink your eyes and the present is past,” Robert mumbles.

  Negocio nods his head in agreement. “Yes, and I am afraid that Puerto Rico is starting the race from far behind. We will leap forward. I refuse to allow my nation to be a future failure.”r />
  Just past the Instituto de Neurobiologia, their auto-auto turns left onto Calle Del Cristo and enters the heart of Old San Juan.

  “Here we are, Robert.” While their auto-auto is rolling to a stop, Negocio is stepping out its door. “Now to reconnoiter and prepare before tourists flood the plaza.”

  Having fallen into this oddly shaped conveyance, Robert is in no hurry to now fall out. He navigates his exit through the auto-auto’s multi-curved, access panel only when their transport is fully stopped. Silent and stalwart, Hector and Rubio follow him out to establish security. Their two accompanying police drones disappear into the flock of drones hovering above the plaza.

  Robert finds Negocio impatiently waiting for him at the base of the Ponce de Leon Statue centered in San Jose Plaza. It quickly becomes apparent why he hit the pavement before their vehicle stopped. As soon as the popular Negocio is sighted, regular routines halt and a crowd of workers begins gathering.

  Hector and Rubio hurry to form a buffer zone between him and his adoring public. Admirers shout his name and wave. Other devotees pose for selfies with him in the background. Excited and adoring, his worshipping throng swells forward.

  Negocio smiles and waves and then motions with his hands for the crowd to step back. Thrilled to be near him, they ignore his request and hug him tighter. Robert begins to experience the uneasiness of claustrophobia. He struggles for breath, suffering an anxiety attack. Too many too close. Squeezing tighter and tighter. Just in time, San Juan police arrive to help restrain the crowd.

  “There is simply no escaping the grip of social media, Robert. I don’t announce my movements, but wherever and whenever I appear a crowd materializes. Forces me to move fast and often. Drives the police crazy, but I believe surprise is my best security.”

  With barrier tape and police in place, Robert and Negocio are no longer being squashed by his fans. But, that does not make them safe. As the San Juan police push the observers away, a fist fight erupts. Robert watches two men and a police officer knock an angry, screaming man to the pavement. He cannot hear what the man is shouting clearly, but to Robert, he appears to be threatening Negocio. The police shock him silent before Robert is certain.

  Although no longer threatened by spectators, above and around them small aerodrones and biobots are swarming like flies. Standing much taller than Negocio, Robert finds them buzzing distressingly close to his head. After his visit from the drone during their trip, he is fearful. He swats at a bio-bee drone buzzing too close to his eyes. A second later he feels a sharp burn on his left hand. Immediately a fiery, welt appears. He has been bio-bee stung.

  “I believe I just learned the painful lesson that I should never mess with your fan’s drones.” Robert shows Negocio his throbbing hand.

  Negocio chuckles. “Oh well, welcome to the club. I’ve made the same blunder myself. Only it wasn’t a fan’s drone, it was my own. That one may have been mine too. I never know whether to swat or not.”

  “So it was a mistake?”

  Negocio flexes his right hand. Occasionally, he still feels pain from the drone laser sting. “Oh, I didn’t say that. I’m just telling you not to trust anybody or their drones.”

  Shadows from the increasing number of aerodrones speckle the blazing hot pavement. Although, he is covered above and surrounded below, Robert takes Negocio’s warning to heart. He ducks and dodges instead of swinging and swatting at any of the growing swarm of drones and bio-bots.

  “In these times of capricious loyalties, I’ve learned by painful experience that once I see a drone I can never turn my back on it.” Negocio scans the cloud of flitting and flying electronics above him. “You never really know who is operating that drone or that drone or that purple drone over there. The operators are anonymous, hiding in the crowd. They could be friends, foes or enemy assassins. Ruthless reality of our time. So, I’ve just accepted life as a continual target. And, now that you’re with me, you’re a target, too. So, stay alert, and be prepared to duck or you’ll deep-fry.”

  SAY QUANXI

  Still early morning and yet, perspiration pours across Robert’s face dripping onto his sweat-wet chest. Some of his perspiration is the result of Negocio’s cheering speech, but the majority results from the soaring heat. He wonders how soon he will melt into a pudding puddle. He would welcome some Toronto snow right now.

  Next to him Negocio stands cool and comfortable. Not a drop of sweat. But then again, he is standing in the shade of Robert’s shadow. Robert considers his discomfort the cost of being a Canadian in the Caribbean.

  “Right here, at seven tonight, I’m announcing my successful implementation of some geoeconomics by introducing our major Chinese partners.” Negocio lowers his voice and moves closer to Robert. “They’re part of the alliance that has been quietly financing my efforts to end our life as America’s forsaken territory. Free of ridiculous US laws and restraints, and with Chinese help, very soon Puerto Rico will again mean rich port. I’m optimistically excited. Teaming with Chinese scientists and innovators will make Puerto Rico the creative center of the Caribbean.”

  “So you’re selling Puerto Rico to the Chinese? No wonder so many people in the US are coming after you.”

  Negocio grimaces at Robert’s comment. “Selling has such a nasty connotation, Robert. I prefer to use the Chinese term of Quanxi. In Chinese, Quanxi means connections or relationships, you know. But then again, so what if I do open up Puerto Rico to the Chinese? We owe America nothing. Nada. For more than one hundred years, America did nothing for Puerto Rico, except insult us, kick us around and bankrupt us. As a territory, our votes didn’t count. Our Representatives in Congress were ignored.”

  Robert feebly attempts to calm his host. “Well, I’ll admit that during my travels in the states, I’ve found most Americans to be very ignorant about their own country. I doubt the majority of Americans even knew Puerto Rico was a US territory or, for that fact, even existed.”

  Anger flares in Negocio’s eyes. He leans close to Robert and snarls. “Their ultimate insult was denying us statehood. We weren’t wanted. Puerto Rico is not welcome. A slap in our face. A kick to our gut. So, since they don’t want us…since Puerto Ricans aren’t good enough to be Americans…I decided that we would not be the American lapdog to be kicked around anymore. I say, Independencia! And, on top of that do you know how deep in debt Puerto Rico is right now thanks to American dictates?”

  “No I…well, I’m Canadian, so I…”

  Negocio disregards Robert continuing his rant. “Well then, as a Canadian with the US trying to run you from south of your border you can understand why we could no longer leave our future in their hands. Mainland Americans’ single greatest characteristic is that they are bewildered by the present and totally unprepared for the future. America is sinking into an era of arrogant ignorance. Don’t you agree?”

  Surprise silences Robert. He does not know how best to answer. He wobbles his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “Well, uh…”

  Speaking faster and faster, Negocio marches on with his angry monologue. “Besides, the Chinese are entrenched in Central and South America, now. You should know yourself that the Chinese established themselves through-out the Caribbean during the US racist rage period. Now that we’re independent, it’s finally our turn to benefit. America may not want us, but the Chinese certainly do. Besides industry, just think of our tourism potential. Millions of Chinese tourists visiting us. Wouldn’t that be fantastic? They have the minds and the money. Lots of money. Why shouldn’t they spend it here? Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, I believe you make a valid point…I guess I…”

  Without taking a breath, Negocio continues orating. “Sure, Quanxi is Chinese, but here we also have the saying, quien a buen árbol se arrima, buena sombra lo cobija. It’s an old Spanish proverb that means if you want to succeed, you have to be close to successful people. If you hang around losers, you’ll end up being a loser. Do you think we al
ways want to be losers?”

  “Well no…I wouldn’t…I mean.” Robert is increasingly confused. “Sorry?”

  Embarrassed by his own ignorance, Robert stops stammering and begins surveying the square. Straightaway, he recognizes several security vulnerabilities. Not only is the plaza full of strangers, it is surrounded by unsecured buildings. It is an aged, concrete canyon that is perfect for an aerodrone attack or a laser shot from a window.

  When Negocio stops to breathe, Robert cautiously inquires. “Sorry, but why are you making your announcement here where it’s so open and accessible? Aren’t you concerned about security?”

  “Historical significance mi amigo. Historical significance. Our history means a lot to us. Ponce de Leon was the first governor of Puerto Rico. He established San Juan. But then, as you may remember from school, he left Puerto Rico to search for the fountain of youth.”

  “Yes, so?”

  Pointing easterly, Negocio continues excitedly, “China’s genome engineering genius, Shengwu Kexuejia, established a large genetic medicine operation in Catano across the Bahia de San Juan in a pharmaceutical plant the American government forced us to close. She’s merging next-generation nanotechnology with advanced genomics creating an international genetics research and treatment center here. And one major area of her expertise is epigenetics. That’s extending human life through genetic manipulation, or as you may call it…the fountain of youth.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard about epigenetics. But, I also understand that it’s still in developmental stages.” Teasing, Robert counters with his own theory. “I, on the other hand, am a Singularian. I hope to continually stay alive long enough to make it to the next life-prolonging innovation until I can upload my mind into a robot. I could be very comfortable as a robot…just call me Robby robot.”