Kaleidocide

by Dave Swavely

  “This is an Atreides shield, designed by BASS about a year ago and recently cleared for safe use. If you’re in danger or expect it, you can wear this on a belt or waistband at your right hip, like you would a phone. When activated, it will protect your body from almost any weapon, but for only about half an hour, so only turn it on when necessary. There’s one for Lynn, too, courtesy of her husband, in case she does go outside the house at some time.” The triplet gave another one to my wife. “It took this long to get them to you because they have to be programmed to your body specifically in order to be safe. They also cost a small fortune to build, so unfortunately the rest of us won’t be so blessed.”

  That wasn’t entirely true, I knew, because Min had a version of the shield built into his body—one of his many combat augmentations. He could activate this “second skin” at any time with his mind, and instantly become even more indestructible than he already was.

  “Could we be alerted visually to potential dangers?” the double asked. “You said this lunatic has colors for everything he sends, right? Like the blue color on that assault team in the holo you showed me. Would it help to watch for certain colors?”

  “Maybe,” Terrey said, “but the problem is we haven’t been able to identify a common pattern in the kaleidocides that have already happened, or that there necessarily is a common pattern. There could be different colors, depending on the situation. There are five that figure prominently in the Tibetan Book of the Dead—and there are some Buddhist elements in Sun’s religion: red, yellow, blue, white, and green. But that doesn’t explain the black that we’ve seen associated with betrayal and poison, unless the black is simply added to those five.”

  “Or it could be the five elements,” the triplets said, briefly forgetting their protocol and all speaking at the same time. So now I knew that they were capable of making a mistake. But they corrected it quickly, and just one of them continued. “Throughout the Shang, Tang, Zhou and Qin dynasties of ancient China, which is the referent for much of Sun’s faith, the emperors selected colors as symbols based on the theory of the five elements, which are water, fire, wood, metal and earth. These correspond with the colors black, red, greenish blue, white, and yellow. Ancient Chinese people believed that the five elements were the source of everything in nature, including the colors that come from each of them. They had a saying, ‘Colors come naturally while black and white are the first.’”

  “So that’s the working hypothesis of the Trois,” Terrey said. “And I don’t think I’ve seen anything to disprove it yet. If it’s true, and that’s a big if, then we’ve already seen greenish blue—”

  “The teal color of the assault team was greenish blue,” the triplet interrupted again, “with black mixed in because it is the color of death, or maybe ‘the king of colors,’ as it was referred to in ancient China.”

  “So the greenish blue and the method of direct assault are off the table now,” Terrey resumed. “And we’d be looking for the other methods to be black, red, white, or yellow, according to the Shimmies’ theory. I don’t know if that helps us much, Jon, because like I said, we don’t really know.”

  “You said something about a car accident in one of the assassinations,” the double added. “What color was the car?”

  Terrey looked at the triplets, and they remained still for a moment as they were accessing their data files. Then one of them said, “White.”

  “So we should be especially looking out for black, red, and yellow,” Jon said, and Terrey shrugged his shoulders and said “Maybe.”

  As they were talking, the second screen on my wall flashed like it had before, and some letters unfolded across it again:

  YON: I DO NOT COMPLETELY AGREE WITH MY SISTERS. BE CAREFUL ABOUT OTHER COLORS TOO.

  As I was wondering which triplet was texting me these words with her mind, and why she didn’t speak up in the meeting, the words disappeared off the screen and Terrey wrenched my attention back to him.

  “But overall we’re in good shape to hold out for a while,” he said. “And speaking of that, Michael, have you come up with any more clues as to why Sun wants you dead, or anything we could use to expose him and get him to back off?”

  “Nothing yet,” I said, and felt guilty again, this time because I had been watching a movie tonight instead of investigating the mystery.

  “All right,” Terrey said. “Then the next agenda item is our man Lawrence here.” He pointed to Stephenson, who was definitely sweating now. “He shared something with me after dinner that I thought would be best discussed with everyone, rather than being whispered down the lane. Go ahead, mate.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to have to bother you with this,” the little man said, starting out nervously but soon gaining confidence because of his conviction about what he had to say. “For the past year or so, I’ve been experimenting with a Dreamscape rig that records my dreams and calculates their precognitive potential. Which means their ability to tell the future. I know some of you may think I’m crazy—heck, my partner doesn’t even agree with me. But I believe that there’s really something to this. I’ve had numerous dreams that have come true in one way or another, most recently the exact circumstances of our rescue from a fire in New York, when we were brought here.”

  “Is that true, Korcz?” I asked from the peanut gallery.

  “Yah, that one is true,” the big, bald Russian replied. “But the others, not really.”

  “The Dreamscape system is in continuing development,” Stephenson countered. “They’re learning how to identify precog dreams better as time goes on, and so am I.”

  “I’m sure we can respect your right to your hobby, Stephenson,” I said, “as long as it doesn’t interfere with your work. But why are you telling us about it?”

  “I’m getting to that, sir. When I met Miss Ponchinello and saw her interest in Valeri…” I raised my eyebrows at this, and saw Lynn do the same. “It reminded me of something I had seen before, kind of like a déjà vu. So I searched my dreams that had been recorded and found images of a dark-haired, dark-skinned lady who was in love with Valeri.”

  “Hold on a second,” Lynn said. “Tyra, do you even have this interest that he’s talking about?”

  The woman in the floating chair hesitated for a moment, so Stephenson spoke for her: “Last night she told Valeri that when she was recovered, she wanted to … celebrate with him.”

  Lynn asked Tyra if that was true, and the woman smiled and nodded. Everyone then looked at Korcz, who just shrugged his shoulders.

  “That may have happened very fast,” I said. “Love at first sight, I guess. But it hardly qualifies as a convincing case of predicting the future.”

  “Right, but I’m not done yet. I not only had a dream where a dark-haired, dark-skinned lady was with him, I also had a dream where a dark-haired, dark-skinned man was with him.”

  “So?”

  “So, I searched the net about Tyra, trying to scratch my déjà vu itch, you know, and I remembered from working security in New York that boss Ponchinello had a son named Tyrone Jr.” He looked across the room at Tyra. “I’m sorry if this is too personal, but it is well documented on the web, so it’s really public. But Tyra used to be Tyrone—she’s a transgender person.”

  There was a bit of a gasp around the room, not because Tyra was transgender—that was very common—but because this must have been an interesting surprise for Korcz, especially if the feelings had been mutual.

  “The relationship is over,” Korcz said with a slight grin, removing all doubt about his opinion regarding this. When he said it, I noticed Lynn trying to suppress a laugh and found myself smiling at her, since no one could see me.

  “Valeri,” Terrey said with a bemused look on his face, “you’re as mean as cat’s piss.”

  “She is still a man,” Korcz said matter-of-factly. “He is still a man. No matter what you cut off—”

  “Wait,” Tyra said, holding up a hand in her chair. “Since this relations
hip is bein’ ruined before it starts, all my secrets should come out.”

  She paused for effect, and it was effective indeed. We were all waiting to hear what she had to say.

  “I was only Tyrone for five years. Before that I was Tyra again. I mean before. I didnta have a healthy childhood, ya feel me? Got the idea that becoming a man would solve my problems. It didn’t, so I went back to what I was. Long story short: Valeri, I’m all woman, and I’m sure not gonna go through that again.”

  I had heard about “double trans” people, and despite Tyra’s personal protestation, I had also heard of “triple trans” people. This was more and more common now that the technology for the treatment had evolved so far, and was so readily available. But this was the only time I’d ever met one—at least as far as I knew. We all looked at Korcz to see how this mini-saga would end.

  “We may be able to celebrate,” he said finally, much to her delight. And Lynn laughed out loud this time.

  “This is all very fascinating,” I said, “but let’s get back to the point. You’re telling us all this, Stephenson, because you think we should include your dreams in our protection plan. Right?”

  “Well, right, I think that would be smart. But I’m not sure it would actually do any good, because they may come true anyway.” A collective sigh rang through the room, but he continued: “Look, I didn’t know that she was a woman before, but even with that it all fits. My dreams predicted he would meet a woman who was also a man, or vice versa, or whatever versa.”

  “It could easily be coincidence,” I countered, “even the trans-transgender thing. There could be all sorts of reasons why you might have a dream and then it, quote, comes true. What about all the other ones that don’t? So let’s do this, if it’s all right with you, Terrey. Why don’t you just tell us, Stephenson, if you happen to find something with your machine that pertains to our situation here, and then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “Well, I already have one,” he said. “And I’m afraid there’s an ethical bridge to cross, too—that’s why I’m telling you. In the dreams I found with Korcz and Tyra, there is one where she dies from eating something.”

  A pall fell over the room, not so much from the idea that Tyra might die—that was already possible. But we all immediately felt the weight of the moral dilemma that Stephenson had referred to: Should we continue on our present course if we knew that she would die?

  “Let me see the file,” I said, and Stephenson sent it to me. I watched it on my second screen and found it to be a blurry kaleidoscope of mostly indecipherable images, though there was a ten-second segment where a black woman (darker than Tyra, if I recall correctly) did gag at a table and fall over. But the woman didn’t look exactly like Tyra, and the table didn’t look like anything in our house.

  “Upon review,” I said to the room, “I think we should postpone any action based on this, and consider it further. Stephenson, I appreciate you sharing it and want you to continue to do so, within reason, but we have to stick with what we can see clearly at this point. Is that all right with you, Terrey?”

  “It’s all right with me,” he said, “but I think we should use any possible advantage, whether we believe in it or not. In fact, my last agenda item for this meeting is something that you might think is even stranger.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. I’m gonna suggest that we all participate in a ban lan ritual, the kind that General Sun uses to empower his kaleidocide.”

  I was stunned, but managed to say, “He doesn’t empower it at all; the power comes from money and equipment and people. His religion is just a primitive cult that doesn’t really do anything.”

  “He thinks it does,” Terrey said. “And if you look at the sheer facts of what has happened over the years, it seems to be working for him.”

  “Terrey, you can’t honestly think it would help us to pray to some eastern mystical force, or whatever it is?”

  “I don’t really know, mate. But I know I want to keep you alive, and the rest of us, too. And if it’s even a possibility that there is something supernatural going on in Sun’s religion, I say we use it ourselves in the hope it might counteract. I’ve done some of the rituals myself already, and we’re all okay so far. So I thought we should all do it, just in case it actually works.”

  “Wow,” I said. “I’m really gonna have to think about this one. So the answer’s no for tonight. It’s late, everyone should get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As it turned out, we were all going to need the rest, because the next day we would find out how deadly the colors yellow and red could be.

  26

  QINGDAO

  “China is the Middle Kingdom,” Zhang Sun said forcefully to his chief advisors, “not the Peripheral Kingdom.”

  That was one of his favorite sayings, and he pulled it out again in this meeting because he felt that Li-Zhan Wei was challenging his authority. Wei was respectful and subtle but challenging nonetheless, and the age-old imperialistic ambitions of Sun’s country were an effective tool for solidifying and maintaining his own power over it.

  “I am concerned that your government,” Wei said, “which is good and necessary for the prosperity of China, may be put at risk if you step out too far. The Communist party made sure long ago that the citizenry could not be armed with guns, at least not any that were comparable to what the military has. But now the people are armed with an even more powerful weapon—they are armed with the vote. You used that weapon to procure for yourself special powers in the wake of world recession and the Taiwan debacle, but the masses can be fickle.”

  Sun looked around at the other faces in the meeting while Wei was talking, to see their reactions. He had to strain his eyes a little because they were not really present, only virtually. The meeting was being held in the back of his limousine, as he traveled from the airport to his next destination. The windows were completely darkened, and the car’s projectors simulated a conference table with chairs around it. The holos of his advisors were imported from Beijing and other locations around the country.

  “We talked a lot about the rights of the people,” Wei continued, “and how they had a right to be protected from outside aggressors and overpopulation within. But now that they have been made more secure by our military buildup, and the economy has been improved by state-sponsored birth control and euthanasia, they don’t have the same fears they had before. So they start to turn their ears to the latest fashions in cultural and political ideology, some of which are directly contrary to what they wanted previously. There is still much talk of rights, but with the western religions becoming more prevalent, we are hearing more about the right to have a larger family, or the right to keep their aging parents in the home with them. And we have agitators like Gao Dao suggesting that money should be taken from the military budget to support practices like that.”

  “Do you have to mention that name, Li?” Sun said, only half joking, because other than Michael Ares, this up-and-coming leader from the People’s Party was the man he would most like to kill. But he couldn’t do so at this time because his hold on power wasn’t yet strong enough to survive the kind of martyr Gao Dao would become.

  “We must mention him,” Wei answered. “He is young, articulate, attractive, and some dare say that he is a term or less away from being electable. Which brings me to the specific concern I have right now. Dao has also been agitating, though at a more private level, about the vast amounts of money that have been directed to your special military technology project. He knows that it would not be feasible to produce or use on a broad scale because of the cost involved, so he is pointing to it as an example of you spending the people’s money for something that will never benefit them. There are also rumblings from him and other pacifistic factions that the project does not contribute to national defense, but is only useful for assassinations.”

  Sun had always liked Li-Zhan Wei—the man had been loyal to him and his p
rinciples. And he especially liked Wei’s name, which could mean “stand and fight” or “instigate war.” But as far as Sun was concerned, this faithful advisor was the one who was overstepping his bounds. The pet project Wei spoke of was one that could possibly make his revenge upon Michael Ares infinitely sweeter, if it worked out the way he hoped. And the truth was that he did plan to use it to eliminate others, even in his own country, who might incur his wrath. But that was not something that should be discussed in a meeting like this.

  “I appreciate your concern,” Sun said, and the man seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “But this is the second time you have raised it, and the first time should have been sufficient. If I wanted to change anything as a result of what you were saying, I would have done it after the first time. So if you do this again, I will have to conclude that you require some further education about the interaction within authority structures, and I will send you to one of our correctional facilities in Siberia.”

  He intentionally did not say whether Wei would be sent there as a person in authority or as a prisoner, but both were very undesirable positions in that endless frozen tundra. This had been an effective threat for many years in the former Soviet Union, and Sun was glad to revive it now that China had procured much of Siberia for the purpose of drilling for oil there.

  “Does anyone else have any concerns?” Sun asked, and of course there were none, which was a good thing because his limousine had arrived at its destination, and the meeting was now over.

  “Hēi sè … hóng sè … bì … bái … huáng,” he whispered to himself as he exited the back of the big black car and walked toward the church building. “Jìn … jiǒng … zhǎn … lún … rǎng.”

  As with the first ritual at the Temple of Azure Clouds near Beijing, Sun was experiencing a feeling of euphoria even without drugs, because this setting was so perfect for his purposes. As was the timing of what was about to happen in the Napa Valley of California.